[ Coordinates: 60.3°N, 21.0°E. Before 48 hours ]

The cold air bit hard against the exposed skin.

A wide stretch of meadow was half buried under the snow, several boots and heavy moving machinery trampled it flat.

Portable floodlights were raised into the grey sky, their light reflecting on the metal units, armoured trucks and the nearby tents.

Atleast, fifty people moved around the base with nimble footsteps — engineers checking the comms near their tents, few medics warming their hands near the electric heaters and some soldiers checking their ammunition and gear with unmoving eyes and accuracy.

Their eyes locked onto the piece of land across the huge river.

Beyond the camp sat a semi frozen lake, its surface cracked silently with the snow piling on it. On the far side of the frozen water, stood a small piece of land.

And at the centre of it—

Stood a rift.

Even from this far, the people in the camp could feel the pressure oozing out from the rift. From their eyes it looked like a tiny black dot which was swallowing all the light nearby.

A man stood near the shoreline, tall and broad, dressed in a crisp black military uniform with a scarf on his neck. His voice cut through the cold.

"Check your surroundings thoroughly," he said. "I want updates on everything that happens inside that damned rift."

The camp slowly quieted as the people turned towards him.

He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. His presence alone was enough to attract the attention.

"And remember this," he continued calmly, eyes cold as the ice underfoot. "I need every single one of you motherfuckers alive."

A few soldiers stiffened in their gear, other smirked nervously as they looked in his eyes.

"If you don't come out," the man went on, his tone darkening, "I'll personally come to 'Tuonela' and drag your worthless souls back myself. Is it clear?"

In front of him stood a squad of twenty, fully geared soldiers, battle ready for Arctic combat. Snow camouflage, sealed visors, heavy backpacks loaded with supplies and artifacts. Frost clung to their boots and shoulders.

The squad captain stepped forward, saluted cleanly, and answered without hesitation.

"Sir, yes sir."

The man smiled, gave a short nod and walked away into one of the units.

Moments later, the squad moved toward the lake. A reinforced transport boat waited at the edge, its engine humming in low frequency. One by one, they climbed aboard, weapons secured, their faces hidden behind masks.

As the boat pushed off and cut across the frozen water, the rift loomed larger with every second — its black distortion spreading like a ink stain against the white world.

______

The cold winds inside the rift was even more unforgiving and howled like something alive.

The blizzard cut across their visors. Every step here sounded loud and most importantly, dry. Their entire surroundings were now swallowed by the blizzard and a faint purple sky, towering above their heads.

Their squad leader, Väinö Korhonen lowered his arm after checking the digital readout again on his wrist.

"Minus forty, degrees" he repeated, voice calm but firm. "Don't waste heat. Keep your breathing steady."

The squad adjusted as soon as they heard the command. The power settings on suits dropped a notch. No one complained. Everyone here knew what an A+ rift meant, stabilized or not.

"This is a search mission only," Väinö continued as he scanned the horizon, the long barrel of the sniper on his back coated with frost. "We're looking for signs of the Kultainen team. Their gear, signals, tracks anything."

He paused, letting the silence sink in.

"If you see something that feels off," he said, "you don't play hero. You mark it, you pull back here, and you report. We don't engage unless I say so."

A few acknowledgements came through the inbuilt transmitter from their suits.

Ahead of them, the landscape was constantly pierced by the blizzard.

Väinö tightened his grip on his rifle strap.

"Stay sharp," he said. "Stabilized doesn't mean safe."

As soon as the instructions were given.

One by one, they pulled out a heavy black box from their backpacks and tossed them onto the snow.

The boxes hit with a dull thud, hissed then unfolded with sharp stinging mechanical clicks, pannels slid apart and an engine hummed with life.

In seconds, sleek snowbikes rested on the snow where the boxes were thrown, steam rising from their exhaust as they turned it on.

The squad moved without much talking, grabbing their helmets and gloves. The eighteen riders mounted on their respective bikes.

Väinö climbed onto one bike with Otsu, his teammate, behind him, the extra weight barely made the suspension go lower. His sniper rifle rested against his back, wrapped and secured.

Engines roared low and controlled as they took off, carving lines into the untouched snow. The wind bit hard, even through layered gear. The land stretched wide and empty, white broken only by dark rock and the distant shadow of a massive cliff to the northwest.

As they gained distance, Väinö tapped on his transmitter slightly.

"Keep within fifteen kilometers," he said calmly, voice steady despite the cold air. "Stick to the plan. No heroics."

_______

Väinö and Otsu meanwhile, climbed the cliff the hard way.

Their fingers went numb even though they had the thick padded gloves. By the time both of them reached the top, Otsu dropped to one knee and swore loudly.

"Dammit fucker. My feet hurt from the soles and up".

Väinö snorted, breathing in controlled and trained breaths.

"Fuck off. Mine hurt more than yours. So stop whining and assemble the mana scope here."

Otsu grumbled as he worked, fingers moving fast despite the cold. "If only I had a soul-weapon like yours. Doing this in silence is literal hell."

Väinö didn't reply. He lay flat against the snow, cloak blending perfectly with the cliff, his presence almost vanishing. His breathing slowed.

He placed the sniper, and scoped in.

And whispered.

DEADEYE

The world narrowed, thermal signatures became evident and the visibility increased even in the foggy environment.

He adjusted the scope and zoomed in toward the signal ping. Fourteen kilometers out, clean and clear despite the storm. A familiar figure moved through the white.

Väinö tapped on his transmitter. "Nice ass you got there, Charles. Though it looks even more ugly now"

There was a pause, then a laugh mixed with a static breath. "You bastard. Why are you always focused on my ass? And how the hell did you even —ahh, forget it. Anything I should know about ahead?"

"Nothing useful," Väinö replied calmly. "Blizzard's killing visibility past this point."

"Got it. And the others. Check if those bastards are still following me or not?"

"They're checking the destroyed Kultainen team's vehicle. Three hundred forty meters southeast. You've got nine with you, right?"

"Yeah. Nine confirmed."

"Copy that."

Väinö shifted slightly and glanced back. "Otsu, keep eyes on them. Three-forty southeast."

Otsu nodded and raised his optics.

On the scope, Charles lifted his hand and flashed a quick HUD signal.

On it.

Väinö tapped his transmitter again. "You there, commander?"

A raspy voice answered almost instantly. "Kind of you to remember I exist now. Yeah, I see every one of you idiots."

Väinö smiled faintly under his mask. "Good. Just checking."

Back at the base, Commander Yashin stood in the middle of the command unit, inside a military bunker, arms crossed. Six operators sat around him, eyes glued to floating screens. Dozens of feeds filled the air, they cantained helmet cams, thermal scans, heart rates, mana fluctuations.

"One through twenty confirmed," one of them reported. "Body temps are slightly low across the board, but stable. No signs of frostbite yet."

Yashin grunted. "As expected. That rift's sucking heat like a bastard."

Another screen zoomed in from Otsu's body cam, showing Väinö flattened against the cliff, snow drifting over his camo. Yashin's lips twitched. "Sniper's already comfy, huh."

"Commander," a tech added, "all squads are within the communicative range. Comms are clean."

"Good," Yashin said, eyes never leaving the feeds. "Tell them to stay sharp. This place doesn't kill you fast — it fucks you up both mentally and physically and waits as you rot."

The screens flickered softly, the storm howling through the audio feeds, as the entire unit watched the squad move deeper into the rift.

Väinö shifted his scope slightly and locked onto another direction. One of their guys was near a half-buried pile of twisted metal, probably what was left of the Kultainen team's vehicle. Even through the storm, Väinö could see him pacing, kicking at the snow.

The man's voice crackled in the comms. "Fuck this place. Everything here looks the same."

Väinö frowned. "Eyes up," he muttered, more to himself than the radio.

A shadow stretched behind the man, too tall, blending with the snowfall. It moved without sound, like it had been there all along. Väinö's breath slowed.He locked into his scope.

The rifle kicked once.

The bullet travelled with hyper sonic speed that created a burst of sonic booms in the air.

The bullet travelled approximately for nineteen seconds.

The shot cut clean through the storm and punched straight into the thing's head. The shadow collapsed instantly, hitting the snow with a dull thud.

The teammate spun around, heart clearly racing from the burst of sound, then froze when he saw the body — a blackened corpse half-melted into the snow. He looked straight toward Väinö's position, even though he couldn't really see him, he raised a thumb.

Väinö exhaled slowly. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered. Then he tapped the transmitter. "You're welcome. And keep your damn head on a swivel. Next time, I might be busy."

The man's nervous shaky laugh came back through the comms. "Roger that."

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