Night descended slowly. The cold air clung to his skin, while the gentle murmur of the river flowed clearly nearby.
Riven sat cross-legged on the grass, just in front of a large, uneven rock. The horse-drawn wagon was a faint shape in the distance, and on the riverbank, Melly was quietly practicing, focused and still.
He closed his eyes. His breathing was steady, controlled. Slowly, mana seeped through his pores. It felt strange, like a thin mist sinking into his body. The flow spread across his limbs and gathered at a center that he could now feel more clearly than ever.
Time passed unnoticed.
Three hours slipped away in silence.
Riven opened his eyes. For a moment, the world felt different. He drew a deep breath and reached for Riftmaker lying before him. Its pale, almost icy blade reflected the moonlight. Faint golden runes were etched along its surface, as if waiting for something.
Until now, he still didn't know how to activate the sword's abilities.
His thoughts drifted back to the battle a few days ago, when he had fought the white-haired man. Riftmaker had only reacted when clashing with that man's electric blade. Before that, nothing had happened. Had Riftmaker really absorbed mana from the electricity?
Riven wanted to try channeling his own mana into the sword.
He had avoided trying before because he didn't yet know how to sense mana, much less absorb or channel it. But now, he would.
He focused his mind and pushed his mana into Riftmaker. Instantly, his body felt hollow, the mana sucked in so quickly his chest tightened. The golden runes on the blade glowed faintly.
Without hesitation, Riven swung the sword toward the rock.
Swish!
Riftmaker's blade passed through the stone smoothly, as if the rock were only a shadow—or perhaps, as if the sword itself were the shadow. There was no sound of impact, no cracks, and even after he pulled the blade back, the rock remained intact, untouched.
Riven froze, eyes wide. Slowly, a thin smile crept across his face.
"So… it's that simple."
But the smile faded quickly. Checking within himself, he realized a quarter of his mana reserves had been drained by just a single illusionary slash. With what remained, he could only repeat it… three more times.
Three slashes. That was the limit.
Because his body could not yet absorb and store mana automatically, he would have to spend a long time replenishing and increasing his mana.
He exhaled deeply, straightened his back, and gazed up at the starry sky. An urgent pressure swelled in his chest, a feeling of being constricted.
"I have to learn to absorb mana faster," he muttered softly.
Riven stared at the cold, white, silent blade of Riftmaker. The sword seemed simple, yet he knew all too well the terrifying power hidden behind its icy glow.
In his mind, Riven imagined a swordsman unaware of Riftmaker's abilities. As the swordsman tried to block an attack with his own blade, Riftmaker bypassed it effortlessly, slicing through his body in an instant. He was dead before he even realized what had happened.
"This sword… it's far too powerful."
For a moment, Riven considered whether he should sell it. With this sword, he could gain enough wealth to survive for years, perhaps even protect Melly without constantly drawing it.
But that thought was quickly silenced by a heavy exhale.
Now he had to focus on what needed to be done. He could worry about selling it later, once they reached Glimfell.
Riven lowered his gaze, planted his feet firmly, and fixed his eyes on the rock ahead. His breathing steady, his body tense, ready to channel all his energy into a single strike.
And then, the words from his dream echoed again—
"Do you understand?"
The mysterious voice reverberated clearly in his mind, haunting every corner of his thoughts. At the same time, the shadowy figure from his dream appeared once more: a man swinging his sword with terrifying precision, capable of splitting the world itself. Riven swallowed, mimicking every movement he remembered, trying to capture the feeling and rhythm from that hazy memory.
He drew a long breath, lifted Riftmaker above his head, and swung it straight down.
—KRANG!
The blade struck the rock. The sound echoed sharply, yet the result was only a faint scratch, almost invisible.
The world did not split.
His jaw stiffened, teeth clenched.
"Not… quite right."
He readied himself again. Slash after slash, sweat dripping, his arm muscles trembling. But the rock remained unmoved, cold and unyielding.
This was nothing new for him. Ever since he was a child in the remote village where he had grown up with his parents, Riven had been obsessed with rocks after a mysterious dream began haunting him. He had tried striking them with wooden swords or his father's blade, yet even now, he could not split one. Splitting a rock as tall as himself had always been his dream.
Now, even as an adult holding Riftmaker, that obsession had not faded.
Strike after strike passed. His body began to waver. Panting, drenched in sweat, he finally bent down, taking a brief pause, gritting his teeth in frustration.
"What must I understand… to cut through everything?"
He collapsed onto the ground, back against the dewy grass. His heart pounded, his body hot, slowly cooling as he lay still. When he rose, he realized his clothes were soaked through with sweat.
"That's enough…" he muttered. Straightening up, with his mind slightly clearer, he decided to wash.
Riven walked to the wagon, grabbed a change of clothes and a towel, and made his way to the river. From a distance, he saw Melly still sitting cross-legged, focused, absorbing mana with a serious expression. A faint sense of pride stirred in his chest.
Ashtoria was nowhere in sight. But Riven felt no concern. She was too strong; someone weak like him had no reason to worry about someone that powerful.
He continued along the riverbank, letting the gentle gurgle of water calm his thoughts. Eventually, he reached a widening part of the river, a large lake whose surface shimmered, reflecting the moonlight.
"Beautiful…" he whispered.
He placed the towel on a flat stone and began removing his clothes one by one. The biting night air made him shiver, preparing himself to plunge into the cold water, washing away the sweat and frustration accumulated.
But before he could step in, something emerged from the lake's surface. The water swirled, then burst with a small, violent splash.
Riven froze in place. His eyes went wide immediately.