Belaphorde marched with mud up to his ankles. Baby-blue puddles sparkled with the light of the early morning sun. The streets were already alive and buzzing with misery and hope. Altars for the dead lined a lone stone wall of a ruined house, decorated with flowers and little personal trinkets such as a necklace or straw dolls. The sounds of chickens, painful wailing, and hammers filled the destroyed city block.

The Guide wiped the sweat off his brow before adjusting his facemask and pulled the baseball cap he'd borrowed from Tobi down low. It was not much of a disguise, but it was what he had available. As long as he remained cautious Belaphorde hoped he could stay clear of any Skulls or other people who'd like to hurt him or abuse him for his powers.

The path beneath Belaphorde's feet got progressively worse until he had plenty reason to worry that he could sink and get stuck. He was heading north to an area known as The Hills. A desolate place leading up to the mountains. Outcasts and goat herders lived on The Hills, far away from the Hustle of the Outskirts. It was also where people who fled from the flood went and all the non-profit organizations with them. It was the Rift furthest away from the Skull's territory and the most vulnerable to attack. So, naturally, Belaphorde decided to head towards that rift, not thinking much about the fact that he'd have to travel upstream across the dunes of sludge the flood had brought.

Belaphorde sighed at his lack of foresight, seeing the buildings as debris half submerged in the dirt. There were lines of rope set up by people who had traveled back and forth over the worst of the mud fields. The Guide scouted the area, trying to find either a path or something to help him. The landslide had formed a wall where there was no getting around. He did find a solution in the form of a long wooden pole that used to serve as a drying rack. If he could only harness the abilities of an Olympic pole vaulter and make a particularly long jump he could climb across to solid ground over the ruined buildings. Easy, right?

Belaphorde stepped back, holding the pole over his shoulder. He sprinted, jumped, and pushed the pole into the sludge. With the momentum he propelled himself up, but it was not enough to go all the way. The pole slowed down and barely made it to the highest point in the middle of the arch. Belaphorde shifted his weight to the other side, shifting the balance and falling down into the dirt. Though the jump was somewhat of a failure, Belaphorde was close enough to the building to grab on and pull himself out of the muck.

"Heya, friend. Don't go around doing reckless stuff like that. Death by mud drowning ain't no joke!" A familiar sweet candy voice called out to the Guide.

Belaphorde followed the voice and saw a couple of middle-aged ladies with short-cut hair and leather jackets like some Outskirts rock n roll cougars. They stood in the middle of the wall of mud with a barely visible trail of footprints behind them. Their legs were glowing with green energy that wrapped around them like ribbons.

"Focus. We are already running late. Shits can hit the fan at any moment."

Belaphorde recognized the impatient one as Hertha. Her jacket was made out of brown cowhide. Her jeans could barely contain her muscular legs. Hertha's Esper ability was her "wind-borne shoes", allowing her to walk feather-light, drill monsters with her kicks and walk in the air if she put enough energy into it.

"Ain't a thing, sure thing!"

Darlacarla, the sugar of the duo. She was robust, dressed in snakeskin, and had a stuffed military backpack. Her ability was to copy the ability of an Esper that was near her, but way weaker than the original.

"Wait! Please excuse me, Miss. Hertha, Miss. Darlscarla, I want to come too."

Belaphorde knew them from hunts they did some years back. The twins had an intense but kind air about them. They had left Vigo's guild on good terms to join up with friends to make their own smaller group of tight-nit Espers.

"Do we know you perhaps? I swear I know that voice." Hertha called out.

"Yes, I'm from Vigo's guild..."

Belaphorde pondered if he should trust them with his name, he had a disguise for a reason after all.

Darlacarla made the decision for the young Guide and before he knew it he was carried on Hertha's back.

"Hold on kid, it'll be a ride."

Belaphorde could not help but feel a bit flustered as the ladies began hop-sprinting.

"Thank you, but how did you recognize me?"

"Ey, that's easy. You are the only one insisting on using my full name instead of Lala.

"I see. Apologies. I'll use 'Lala' from now on. And speaking of nicknames could you please continue to refer to me as BF? I'm trying to keep a low profile."

As much as he disliked the abbreviation and the jokes that once followed being called 'BF' it was better than people shouting his actual name around.

"Heh, you make me laugh kid. Glad to have you on the team. Though non-regulars get 30% less of the cut, understand?" Hertha spoke over her shoulder.

Lala huffed as she just tried to keep up with her sister's effortless jumps. Her backpack rattled at every landing.

"Glad to have you along, BF!"

Though her words sounded reassuring, Belaphorde still felt a bit uneasy as he put his trust in these near strangers.

***

It took them a while to arrive at the meeting place in The Hills, though much faster than if Belaphorde had walked all the way by himself.

Rows of tents, carts, and temporary sanitary stations lined the usually empty steppe. How many had not lost everything to the flood? Would these people move back or stay here?

Without any tall buildings in the way, it was impossible to miss the Rift burning bright white in the middle of the misery festival. Several workers in bright vests were working hard trying to push and shout for people to move their things away from the rift but some were too sick and exhausted to do anything. Others had already cleared out from the area nearest the Rift.

"Over here!" An enthusiastic boy waving a yellow flag called over Lala and Hertha.

They had found their tribe, their group which they simply called the Satellites. A motley crew of twelve better-than-average Espers. They had found a spot to camp at with a fire set up on a rock. Three Satellites were leaning back in their folding chairs like they were ready for the world's worst outdoor festival.

Hertha introduced "BF" to the party by stating "This Guide will be with us, questions?" to which there was a round of cheers and handshakes.

Belaphorde didn't like at all how smooth things were going.

"Alright, hands off BF and hands on these goodies! Santa is a girl and you are looking right at her. Thank me for carrying your junk later." Lala plopped down the backpack and began handing out energy bars, a thermos filled with what Belaphorde assumed to be tomato soup and whole cucumbers. A meal fit for kings.

As the others began talking strategies and munching on lunch Belaphorde took a step back so he could remain silent and observe. It was agreed that he would be paired up with Hertha, either on her back or just keeping close so that she could go all out with her powers. If anyone else needed assistance Hertha had enough mobility to get around. Belaphorde and Lala would have first aid kits as they had a more supportive role.

"BF, have you ever gone inside a Rift? Will you still join us if it's a Dungeon?" Lala asked while holding hands with Belaphorde. The Guide prepared the Satellites as best he could.

There were three types of Rifts; Bud, Shard, and Dungeon. A Bud is the pre-stage of a Rift. A shining ball of light that so far no one had figured out a way to deal with. A flock of Espers from the Outskirts had gathered around the Bud and waited to see how it would develop.

A Shard was the most common type. The Bud would burst out with monsters and in part become the Boss. It would then act as a spawning point for more monsters and an energy source for the Boss. Kill the Boss and the shard disappears.

Dungeons are usually less of an immediate threat to the outside since then the Rift becomes a gate leading into a small world inside it. They are rarer and of higher ranking so Belaphorde had never had the chance to go into one, though he had heard plenty of stories of how they could be on the inside. All from vast open plains with air filled with energy making using Esper powers effortless to Indiana Jones-like temples of traps and air that's like walking underwater.

"It won't be an issue, I'll follow along," Belaphorde answered as confidently as he could manage.

With so many Espers around he thought it'd be safer to stay with the Satellites. In this competitive setting, he could feel the tension in the air. For some this was not just a chance to do good or get a bit of cash, it would mean everything to get a chance when everything they had was washed away.

Belaphorde thought of Vigo in that slightly too small bed. If he did not get anything out of this then what would happen to the both of them?

"It's moving! The Rift, Hertha, you feel this energy?"

"Yeah, sure do. We looking at at least a B-class in the making. Be alert team."

Belaphorde could see the Satellites exchange worried smiles. The air spun rapidly around the charging Bud. Everyone grabbed their weapons, and Lala took the flag.

Bel could hear lines snapping as the wind uprooted the tents. Dust swirls up into a sandstorm. Weaker Espers were brought down to their knees as an invisible force pushed them down. It was unlike anything Belaphorde had seen. There were screams. Those who could had fled the scene while the brave and foolish remained.

"What the hell kind of Rift is this?" Hertha shouted back at the other Satellites.

Then, it all went still. The tents that stood up like sails fell with a thud.

Two giant obsidian claws reached out from the Rift and stretched out the opening several meters wide. In the pure white light, a deformed human face made of black crystal poked out. It had three spikes spreading out from its head like a star-shaped hat. Its grin spread from ear to ear.

An ear-shattering sound like distant canons and abused triangles cackled out of its mouth. Belaphorde felt a chill go through his spine as he locked eyes with the creature and it stared back with unblinking eyes. It gave a nod and disappeared back into the rift.

Five seconds later or unbearable anticipation a horde of crystal monsters burst out from the Rift. Spider-like creatures big as buses, wolves made of angles and spikes, golems with sledgehammer arms; but no Boss. It must still be in the Rift. There was a lair inside.

"Satellites, follow my lead!" Hertha took Belaphorde on her back and charged against their first opponent.