Riven flinched, his heart nearly stopping. His trembling body went rigid on reflex, and he half-raised Riftmaker before recognizing the figure standing beside him.
"Aria…? What are you—"
He shut his mouth at once, swallowing his words. He knew they were still in danger. His breaths came ragged and uneven, but Ashtoria's presence somehow made his chest feel a little lighter, though it also carried a new wave of unease.
How had she reached him this quickly?
And more importantly…
He glanced at Melly, sleeping peacefully in Ashtoria's arms, her breaths steady. The fact that she could sleep through this chaos puzzled him, yet he thought it was for the best. She didn't need to see the carnage.
One question then crossed Riven's mind. Why was his sister asleep?
"Was that… you who…" Riven tried to ask softly, but the words trailed off. His gaze swept the battlefield. Blood splattered across the mud, the scattered remains of beasts still steaming, and a silence that felt like the crack before another storm.
Ashtoria gave no reply. She only turned her crimson eyes toward him. They looked colder than usual, like a frozen lake hiding something beneath its surface.
Riven's body was torn open from shoulder to waist, his flesh ripped unevenly by claws and fangs. Blood ran freely, soaking his tattered clothes until they looked like worn rags. Other wounds striped his arms, thighs, and temple, bruised and battered. His breathing was heavy but steady, the rhythm of a man too stubborn to collapse.
Ashtoria remained silent.
Yet somehow, Riven's skin prickled.
There was something behind that icy stare. Not pity. Not contempt. But neither was it hate. That was what unsettled him most. Those blood-red eyes seemed to carry something he couldn't define.
Even Ashtoria barely recognized the sensation rising inside her.
Something crawled in her chest, strange and intrusive, impossible to describe. She, who could kill without hesitation, now stood frozen before a man torn apart by battle… and felt discomfort.
But not the discomfort of disgust. Not fear.
It was heat pressing from within, threading through her bones, forcing her breath heavier. Her eyes couldn't leave his wounds.
The feeling grew stronger. She wanted to act. To touch the wounds. To make sure his life wasn't slipping away. Yet her hands refused to move. She didn't know what to do.
Because in all her life, the only feeling she had ever known like this was rage. And the only way she had learned to quiet rage was through killing.
Her fists clenched. Her jaw tightened.
She didn't notice when her fingers began to tremble, or when the muscles in her back tensed, ready for battle again. She only knew one thing.
Someone had hurt this man.
And they all had to die.
The beasts. Every wretched creature that dared wound Riven.
Her mind darkened. The world narrowed, leaving only one escape: violence. Her body leaned forward, instincts sharpening, ready to tear apart whatever moved. The aura she had kept hidden now leaked out, cold and heavy, threatening like the edge of a blade against the neck.
She looked down at Melly, still asleep, and without a word lowered the girl gently to the ground. Her movements were soft, unusually careful.
But before she could step forward, a touch stopped her.
Weak, fragile, yet strong enough to freeze her in place.
Riven's hand, bloodied and trembling, grasped her wrist. He held her not with fear, but with resolve.
"Aria… don't."
Ashtoria turned slowly.
Their eyes met.
In that silent clash, two worlds stripped bare before each other. Riven's gaze read the storm within her—anger, confusion, and something foreign he couldn't name. And what startled him most wasn't fear, but something entirely unexpected: a strange flicker of calmness.
Ashtoria's frozen stare cracked.
Before her sat a man whose body was torn, skin drenched in blood and dirt, chest heaving unsteadily. Yet it wasn't his suffering that struck her.
It was his expression.
Ashtoria didn't know how to answer it.
For her, life had always been simple. If something hurt you, destroy it. If it weakened you, discard it. If your heart felt uneasy, kill the source. That was all.
She was raised to survive, not to understand. Taught to wound, not to feel. So when this sensation came—this sharp, alien weight in her chest as she saw Riven broken and bleeding—she didn't know what to do.
And now… he held her hand.
Not with strength.
But with trust.
Ashtoria lowered her gaze to their joined hands. She could have pulled away. Could have ignored the touch. She could have stood up right now and unleashed her fury, slaughtering every beast in the forest to repay Riven's blood with theirs.
That was the only answer she had ever known.
Yet somehow, this time, it wasn't enough.
It wasn't satisfying.
It wasn't right.
And killing wouldn't fix anything.
Ashtoria let out a faint breath, almost inaudible.
Then, slowly, she lowered herself. She sat beside Riven in silence, saying nothing. She didn't pull her hand away. She let it remain, held in his, though her heart still had no name for the feeling inside it.
Only one thing was certain.
She didn't want to leave.
Riven exhaled heavily, resting his weight against Aria's shoulder. Pain still burned through his body, but now something eased it. The air around them was still tense, yet he felt a little more whole.
"We'd better stay here," he whispered, voice rough. "Don't go anywhere. Don't fight. It'll only tire you out, make things worse. We just need to hold on until this is over. If they come at us, then we strike back."
Around them, the world moved on.
Everyone else was dead, perhaps the entire village. No commoner, no low-ranked Lawbearer could have survived a wave of beasts like this.
The monsters still prowled in the distance. Shadows flickered fast between houses, walls cracked and splintered, muffled growls and heavy breaths echoing beneath the dripping of water from the rooftops.
But none dared approach.
An unseen boundary circled the place where Riven and Ashtoria sat. Ten meters. No more. As if even the world itself understood. Within this circle, there was something untouchable.