After spending some time speaking with Garron and gathering what he could about this unfamiliar world and the royal family to which he now belonged, Riven leaned back slightly against the bedpost. The faint candlelight flickered across his pale features as a question tugged at the edge of his thoughts.
He glanced at the aging servant and asked with careful curiosity, "Uncle Garron… do you know what happened to me? What kind of illness I've been suffering from—and how it all began?"
The question made Garron freeze. The warmth in the old man's expression faltered. Slowly, he sighed, as if the memories themselves carried weight too heavy for his chest.
"Young master…" he began, his voice tinged with sorrow, "two years ago, when you were sixteen… you were bright. Talented. Fearless. You had a fondness for exploring the unknown, and a will that wouldn't bend to anything."
He paused, his fingers curling into his robe sleeves, knuckles whitening.
"One day, without informing anyone, you went into the Red Lotus Forest. You brought three companions—sons of noble families, all strong and ambitious like yourself. You told no guards. No elders. Not even your father."
Riven remained silent, but his gaze sharpened.
"We didn't worry at first," Garron continued, voice quieter now. "You'd often disappear on small adventures. But when a full day passed without your return… then two… then three… concern grew. On the fourth day, the families of those boys stormed the royal palace, demanding answers."
His jaw tightened.
"His Majesty… your father… grew furious. But also concerned. He sent his personal guards, and the families dispatched their own search parties. They scoured the Red Lotus Forest for days. But there was nothing. Not even footprints."
A chill spread through the room as Garron lowered his voice to a hush. "Ten days passed. Still nothing. And by then, hope began to rot into dread. People whispered of beasts, of bandits, of curses older than the kingdom itself."
Riven's brows furrowed slightly, but he didn't speak. His mind was already painting the picture—one soaked in silence, blood, and the unseen.
"Then… on the thirteenth day," Garron said, eyes darkening, "a group of hunters went deep into the forest, chasing a silver-horned buck. They reached the edge of a forgotten lake… and there, they caught the stench of death."
Riven's heartbeat slowed.
"They followed the smell. Beneath a massive, ancient tree… they saw them. The three boys. Hanging from its branches. Bound in rope. Their bodies were… shriveled. Skin clinging to bone. As if their blood had been drained, every drop."
A moment of silence.
Even Riven—who had witnessed galaxies burn and empires fall—felt a faint disturbance crawl down his spine.
"And then," Garron whispered, "behind a large stone, they found you."
He met Riven's gaze, voice shaking now.
"You were covered in blood. Bones shattered. Eyes closed. Barely breathing. You should have died, young master. The healers later said you had over seventeen fractures. Internal bleeding. No pulse for over a minute."
He looked away.
"But somehow… you lived."
Riven's fingers curled into the bedsheet. "Why? Why only me?"
The question echoed in the hollow space of his mind, unanswered.
"After you were brought back, His Majesty summoned every known healer, scholar, and spirit doctor in the region. But they could do little. "—Your Nether Veins…" he hesitated. "were broken." Mangled beyond healing. You were no longer a cultivator. Just… an ordinary person."
Riven's gaze dropped to his hands. They trembled faintly, not from weakness… but from fury.
"They drained them dry… but spared me? No. This wasn't mercy. It was intentional?"
He remembered the mirror. His same face. But this body… was just a cage.
"And I've been unconscious for two years," he muttered, more to himself than Garron.
"Yes…" Garron said, nodding slowly. "No one thought you'd ever wake up. And yet, here you are. Alive."
Riven looked up, something unreadable in his eyes. "Is there a way to fully recover?" he asked, though he knew what the answer would be.
"I… don't know," Garron admitted, guilt lacing his voice. "But perhaps… His Majesty may have more answers. You should speak to him."
The man stood up shakily and bowed, trying to compose himself. "Please rest, young master. I'll prepare a bath and bring you something to eat."
He stepped toward the door, then turned back, his voice softening with genuine care. "I'm truly glad you returned."
And with that, he left—quietly closing the door behind him.
Riven sat alone in the dim chamber, silence pressing against his skin like cold mist.
"Three noble heirs, drained of blood. Their corpses bound like sacrifices. And me—the only survivor—left barely alive behind a rock."
"Interesting," Riven muttered under his breath. "Why did he survive? Beast attack? A hidden enemy? Or something else entirely?"
He exhaled, slow and controlled. "That wasn't luck. It wasn't mercy. It was intention."
The Red Lotus Forest had stolen more than his body. It had swallowed his future, his cultivation, his dignity. And now… he would dig into its secrets like claws through flesh.
"Whatever did this… be it beast or curse, I'll uncover it. And then I'll bury it."
As Riven sat in the silence of his chamber, lost in a whirl of thoughts. Everything about this world, this body, and the tragedy of the Red Lotus Forest weighed heavily on his mind.
"A shattered body. Lost cultivation. The Red Lotus Forest. My second rebirth… no, my second chance."
His fingers curled into his lap, gripping the fabric of the robe Garron had given him in.
"This body is frail, nearly crippled. But not beyond redemption. I've to built once again. And when I rise, it will be higher than ever before."
But just as he steeled his thoughts— A voice, soft as velvet and sharp as poison, whispered into his ear. "So… in this life, your name is Riven? Tsk.. tsk… what an eyesore, seeing the great Immortal like this—crippled, pathetic."
The words were drenched in honeyed malice. Not loud—but piercing. As if spoken directly into his soul.
Riven's eyes narrowed, every muscle in his body going rigid. His heart thudded once—then twice, faster. No one… no one should know.
His reincarnation was his greatest secret. Even the gods shouldn't have been able to peer through the veil of fate that cloaked his rebirth.
He looked around sharply, scanning the room. Shadows remained still. The door was shut. The mirror reflected only him.
His expression remained unreadable. His voice, calm and cold as frost. "Who are you? Why don't you show yourself?"
Then, soft laughter—feminine, playful, and sharp as a dagger wrapped in silk. "Hehe~ you're really clueless. Did you forget me so soon, How disappointing Riven.."
Riven narrowed his gaze, keeping his breathing even. "If you know so much about me… then show yourself. Now."
In his mind, he considered one possibility. Could it be her again? The goddess? Has she returned again?
The voice huffed indignantly. "Hmph! I would—if I wasn't so pitifully weak right now. I'm inside your consciousness, you idiot."
Riven froze..His brows drew together in disbelief. "…What?"
That sultry voice now rang with irritation, as if offended.
"I am the Voidless Flame, you ungrateful bastard! When you died in that final battle, I followed your soul—embedded myself within it. That's how I'm here. Do you dare say you forgot me?! I'll burn you alive where you sit!"
His thoughts short-circuited.
The blood drained from his face. For a few long seconds, Riven sat there, utterly frozen, his entire being struggling to process what he had just heard.
Voidless Flame… The flame that scorched the Astral Void Domain. The living essence of destruction and rebirth. My greatest weapon. My only companion in death… and now—
He sucked in a sharp breath, hands trembling. "Little flame..?" he whispered, almost afraid to believe it.
Then the voice softened, dripping with pride. "Yeah. It's me—Voidless Flame. The one who nearly reduced the Astral Void Domain to dust with you." She paused again. Then added with a smirk in her voice, "But don't flatter yourself—I didn't follow you out of loyalty. You were just the only anchor I had left to survive annihilation… lucky you, hmm?"
And as if summoned by the weight of her name, something stirred deep within his mind.
A flicker of ember. Then light. Then shape. And then… form.
From the center of his spiritual sea, a silhouette emerged—fluid, flickering like flame—until it stabilized into a breathtaking figure. A woman, ethereal and unearthly, born not of flesh but of essence. Her hair flowed like solar winds, her skin shimmered like tempered gold, and her eyes… her eyes held a heat that had once burned celestial gates to ash.
She crossed her arms and hovered above the sea of his spirit like a queen returning to her throne. "Now do you believe me?" she said, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Riven didn't answer immediately. His mind was reeling.
In my past life… the Voidless Flame was raw destruction. It didn't speak. It didn't think. It obeyed. So how…
"You had no consciousness before..." he said aloud, his voice low and cautious. "How are you speaking now? And what is this form? Why are you shaped like…" He trailed off, eyes narrowing. "A goddess from a tale told to tempt mortal men?"
The flame-girl chuckled, folding her arms as if amused by his confusion.
"I don't know." She smirked. "Maybe it was the reincarnation. Maybe being bonded to your soul forced me to evolve. Or maybe… I always had the potential. You just never gave me a chance to talk."
She turned slowly in his mindspace, golden flames trailing from her bare feet as if she danced atop the void itself.
"As for this form…" she said with a teasing smile, "it was manifested on its own. Don't blame me if the universe decided to gift me beauty."
Riven stared at her within his spiritual sea, his expression unreadable.
Then, closing his eyes, he exhaled slowly—deeply as if letting go of an illusion he didn't know he still held. "Had she always been more than I believed? Not just a flame… but a soul, slowly learning to burn in her own way?"
His voice was barely a whisper, yet it echoed through the silence of his mind. "This life… is going to be far more complicated than I thought."
--
Far above, in a realm untouched by time or decay, a lone figure stood atop a silent mountain—his black dress billowing in the voidless wind.
A voice, indifferent as drifting ash, whispered into the stillness: "Voidless Flame… has awakened."