A dull ache dragged Riven back to consciousness. Groaning, he pried his eyes open and clutched his throbbing head in both hands—the familiar, punishing aftermath of mana depletion gnawing through his skull.
Damn, that hurts. Thought I'd be used to it by now.
The thought made him chuckle, only for the pain to retaliate with a spike of agony that almost made him wince aloud. Slowly, he lifted his head, expecting to see the sterile whites of a healer's center or, at the very least, the crumbling rafters of a rundown tavern.
Instead, dim orange torchlight flickered across rough stone walls, casting long, twitching shadows. Cold bit at his back from the floor—also stone—and three of the walls boxed him in with unyielding silence. The only way out was ahead: a barred gate of blackened metal, its lock sealed tight at the center.
Wait… what? Am I in a jail cell?
The question came not with panic but confusion, a slow, disbelieving blink as the fog in his mind began to clear. Then it hit him—the last moments before darkness claimed him. The noble's face flashed across his memory, twisted in fury and desperation as he rushed toward him. Then nothing.
Riven exhaled. Did I get kidnaped?
His thoughts were cut short by a sudden feeling emanating from his chest. Something throbbed faintly—not in his heart, but in his soul. Alarmed, he sat up straighter, folding his legs and closing his eyes as he slipped inward, into the quiet, infinite space of his soul.
His astral self drifted toward the cores. Both pulsed like living hearts, larger now, vibrant with renewed strength.
The joy hit him like a wave the moment his vision cleared. Rank One.For a heartbeat, he could only stare at his cores in disbelief before laughter slipped out, light and shaky. He had done it—he'd actually ranked up. That meant he'd absorbed a huge amount of essence, and judging by the strength of it, it had to be from the Galeclaw noble's beast.
A grin spread across his face as relief washed through him. His desperate gamble—the explosion, the reckless surge of mana, the hope that at least one of those monsters would die—hadn't been for nothing. The Galeclaw was gone, and he'd survived long enough to feel the reward.
But as the rush faded, so did the smile.Something felt off. He leaned closer, examining the faint glow pulsing from his two cores. Both were dim, nearly hollow—barely clinging to the base of Rank One.
"That's… strange," he murmured. "The Galeclaw should've been at least Rank Three."
Then, a memory surfaced—one of those dull academy lessons he'd half-slept through. When a low-ranker kills a beast far stronger than themselves, the resulting essence is simply too dense, too powerful to absorb. Most of it ends up dispersing into the surroundings.
He exhaled slowly, realization sinking in."So that's it…" he muttered. "Half of it just bled away."
And then another thought followed, quieter but sharper. He hadn't fought the Galeclaw alone. Roman had been there too—had done most of the work, in fact. Riven had only delivered the final blow.
Which meant the essence had been split. Half wasted… and half shared.
He tilted his head back with a tired, crooked smile. "Guess I should still be grateful I got anything at all."
Shaking his head, he turned toward his amber core—and froze.
Seven small motes orbited around it—each glowing faintly like stars caught in a slow drift. Soul shards.
His breath hitched. "Wait… when did I—?"
He reached out with his astral sense, examining them one by one. Four were familiar—white and grey, the same kind of common shards he'd seen before. Two, however, pulsed with a faint green tint at their centers, giving off a soft, earthy warmth. Uncommon, he realized, recalling the faint impressions of beasts he'd once glimpsed in memory visions.
But the last one—hovering slightly apart from the rest—was different. Its glow was cool and pale, white at first glance but shot through with faint blue threads that shimmered when the light shifted. The air around it felt sharper, almost cold, tinged with a strange, regal pressure that made his astral form hum faintly.
His eyes widened. "A rare shard…" he breathed. "White with blue…"
He couldn't remember harvesting any of them—definitely not consciously. The Galeclaw's death must have released them directly into his soul when the beast's essence was pulled in. The thought both awed and unsettled him.
Still, despite the shock, a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. After losing the three shards he'd gathered from the Zeltrick, this felt like the universe evening the score.
He let out a quiet chuckle, the tension bleeding from his shoulders. "Guess luck decided to throw me a bone this time."
But as he glanced around at the dim orange glow flickering across his cell walls, reality quickly settled back in. Whatever joy he felt was short-lived. Now wasn't the time to celebrate or experiment with fragments. Not in a cell, and not when he had no idea what that noble planned to do next.
Before he could dwell on it, a deeper dread settled into his gut. Something else was missing.
His eyes flew open like snapped shutters, and he scrambled to his feet, scanning the cell.
"Luna…" he breathed.
She'd vanished the moment the mana barrier fell during the tavern fight, teleporting herself to safety. In the chaos of battle, Riven hadn't spared her a single thought.
"Damn it," he muttered, smacking himself lightly on the forehead.
Dropping back down, he plunged into his soul space again, honing in on the delicate thread of energy stretching from the center of his soul outward—thin as spider silk, fragile as wet paper. But it was still there. Still pulsing.
She's alive.
A long, shaky sigh slipped from his lips as he leaned back against the stone wall, letting its chill anchor him. The pain in his head dulled to a low throb, but it was nothing compared to the relief in his chest.
A few minutes passed as Riven stared at the metal bars standing between him and freedom. Cold and silent, they gleamed faintly in the flickering torchlight, as though mocking his powerlessness. His thoughts wandered, drifting back to the Academy lectures he barely paid attention to at the time—specifically the one on how guardsmen restrained criminal mana users and beast tamers.
They used mana disruptors to disable most abilities and spells, though internal enhancements—like strengthening the body—still slipped through. That's where enchanted materials or naturally magic-resistant resources came in, used to reinforce the walls and cells.
I remember something about revolutionary new chains, he mused. Ones that suck the mana straight out of you, keeping you near empty. But even those stop working properly against higher-ranked tamers.
He snorted faintly. Yeah, once you rank up, even your body gets tougher—so they usually pile on multiple layers of restrictions.
Shaking his head, Riven got to his feet. His muscles ached with the dull pulse of slow healing, but he forced them into motion. He stepped closer to the bars and peered through, expecting a watchful guard lounging outside with a bored expression.
Instead, silence.
The corridor beyond stretched into darkness, eerily still. The only source of light was a single torch mounted at the far end of the tunnel, its flame wavering weakly, casting long shadows that danced across the stone walls.
"Well… here goes nothing."
Before trying break through using brute force, Riven decided to test something first. He drew in a slow breath and focused on the faint hum of his pink mana, channeling it into his skill. The energy gathered, coiling and compressing within him—then fizzled out with a dull sputter.
He clicked his tongue. "Thought so. Mana disruptors… damn it."
So much for blinking his way out.
Fine. If finesse wouldn't work, maybe raw power would.
He gripped two of the iron bars, one in each hand, their cold surface biting into his palms. This time, he let his pink mana pour through his limbs, flooding his body with strength. His muscles tensed, veins standing out against his skin as mana surged like a tide through his arms and chest.
Fifty percent of his reserves now burned within him—but the bars didn't even tremble.
A frustrated growl escaped him. "Come on…!"
He could feel it though—his total mana had nearly doubled since reaching Rank One. That part made him grin for a second. But it didn't matter if his control was sloppy; without mastery over body reinforcement, he can't force more mana to circulate around his body.
Still, he wasn't done yet.
As a last resort, Riven reached deeper, into the pulsing warmth of his amber core, and drew out as much as he dared—roughly forty percent of it—any more and he risked losing control. His entire body thrummed as golden light rippled faintly beneath his skin, power coursing through every nerve.
For the first time, he felt truly strong.
With renewed confidence, he dug his feet into the ground, gritted his teeth, and pulled with everything he had. The chamber shook with the strain, the veins in his neck bulged—
He dug his feet into the ground, every muscle straining as veins stood out along his arms.This time, the metal creaked—actually creaked—and for a brief, wild moment, Riven felt the bars begin to shift.
"They're… moving," he hissed through clenched teeth.
The iron bent ever so slightly under his grip, allowing him to pry them apart—just half a foot at most—but that was all. His arms trembled violently, his breath turning ragged as the power running through him began to waver.
With one final pull, his strength gave out. He released the bars, stumbling back a step. They snapped right back into place, the faint gap sealing instantly as if nothing had happened. Not even a scratch.
Riven stared at them, panting. "You've got to be kidding me…"
He slumped forward, panting, staring at the unyielding metal. Whatever these things were made of, they weren't normal iron. Mana-dampening, reinforced—maybe even crafted from high-tier alloys.
"Figures," he muttered, breathless. "Of course a noble would have something like this."
He exhaled sharply, stepping back. His body ached from the strain—still battered from the earlier clash.
With a smirk tugging at his lips, he cracked his knuckles. "Alright then, let's try the walls."
He turned, clenched his fists, and struck. Again and again, the dull thuds echoed in the room, vibrating through his bones. But the stone refused to yield. Not a chip. Not even a hairline fracture.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered for what felt like the hundredth time, rubbing his sore knuckles. "What rank are these materials? They didn't even crack from my amber infused mana."
He dropped his forehead against the cool stone with a sigh, the breath leaking from him like steam.
So what now? Wait around for some miracle rescue? Hope that noble has a change of heart?
A bitter chuckle escaped him at the thought. That noble had watched one of his prized beasts die by Riven's hand. There'd be no forgiveness there.
As if on cue, footsteps echoed through the tunnel, rhythmic and deliberate, bouncing off the stone walls like a slow, mocking drumbeat. Riven squinted into the darkness, straining to make out more than the shifting shadows ahead. A shape moved within the gloom—a shadowy blob at first—until it stepped into the flickering torchlight and revealed itself.
The noble.
Of course.
His face was carved from ice, the usual cold arrogance plastered across his sharp features. But the moment his gaze landed on Riven, that mask cracked, and a new emotion etched itself into his expression—anger. Barely restrained, simmering fury.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" the noble snapped, voice raised but tightly controlled, each word a whip crack as he strode closer to the bars.
Riven's frown deepened. The audacity of the question set his nerves on edge. Irritation welled up inside him, and he spat back, "What was I doing? No—what were you doing? You blew up an entire building!"
The noble's eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the cell seemed to drop a few degrees. His voice dipped into something low and dangerous. "You dare question me, peasant? I will do as I please. Know your place."
His glare could have carved stone. Cold fury radiated from him like a poisoned fog, the sheer pressure of it causing Riven's breath to catch for just a second.
The noble's presence was suffocating. Each word he spoke carried weight, backed by a deadly confidence that only power—or madness—could provide. It was a miracle Riven was even standing. Probably due to his recent rank up.
When Riven didn't respond, the noble continued, pacing now just inches from the bars. "Not going to speak? That's fine. I only need you alive for a few more days—long enough for that brute to come running in a foolish attempt to save you."
He chuckled darkly at that, the sound thick with mockery. "Who would've guessed? The disgraced Roman, taking on a protégé. And not just any brat—but one he's willing to fight to protect."
The noble fell silent, his hand rising to stroke his angular chin as he sank into thought. His eyes narrowed further, lips curling slightly. "No… he will definitely come.
With that, he spun on his heel and began walking away, his steps smooth, almost a waltz—too graceful for someone so venomous.
What is this guy's deal with Roman? Riven wondered. Disgraced? What's Roman's background?
He filed those questions away for later. For now, he was content that the noble had left him in one peace—even if it meant rotting in this mana-dampened cell.
Will Roman actually show up?
Riven groaned and smacked his forehead against the wall. Hard. The stone was cool and unyielding, a reminder of just how stuck he really was. This entire mess could've been avoided if he'd just run—at any point before the barrier went down.
He slid down to the ground and leaned back against the wall, the chill of it seeping through his shirt. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his mother.
She must be worried sick.
"Damn it… what have I gone and done?"
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. Frustration burned inside him, rising like a storm. He glared at the flickering torch down the tunnel, its flame dancing like a distant, mocking promise.
"If I get out of this," he whispered, his voice lower and colder than he thought possible, "I'll make sure that noble pays."
For a moment, his eyes glowed—bright amber cutting through the dim like embers waiting to ignite.