Jordan was in the kitchen.
Even though he and Riven had gotten roughed up, it wasn't bad enough to need bandages. Casfer and his two goons had only used their fists—like the two brothers weren't even worth wasting abilities on.
Jordan opened the fridge and found a slab of meat, still fresh. He sliced it thin, stretching it as far as he could, then slapped together a sandwich and devoured it in two seconds flat. After that, he made two more, carried them upstairs, and set them beside Riven's bed like offerings.
Then he went back down and made four more—two for Mom, two for Dad—carefully placing them near the couch where they'd fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.
"Love you," Jordan whispered, almost too quiet to count, before heading back to his room.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the VR helmet strapped over Riven's head.
"I wonder if he's ever gonna let me take a go at that thing," he muttered to himself.
But something was off.
Riven had worn a peaceful look the entire time he'd been in VR. Like whatever world he'd gone to was finally giving him a break from the real one.
That look… started to change.
It faded—slowly at first—until it was replaced by something Jordan knew too well.
Stress.
Then the frown deepened.
Deeper.
Deeper—
Until it looked like pain.
Riven's breathing hitched.
Then his eyes snapped open.
He sucked in air like he'd been drowning.
Jordan's heart slammed against his ribs.
"Riven?"
He moved fast—his first instinct was the only instinct he had.
Take the helmet off.
Jordan grabbed the VR headset.
The heat hit him instantly.
It wasn't warm.
It was unbearable—like a stove that had been left on too long. He yanked his hand back with a sharp gasp, staring at his palm like he'd been burned.
"Riven! Riven! Are you alright?!" Jordan shouted.
Fear spiked so hard it made his vision blur. He turned toward the living room, ready to run and wake their parents. He didn't even know what they could do—but at his age, calling for Mom and Dad was automatic.
Then a hand grabbed his wrist.
Jordan froze.
He looked down.
It was Riven.
His grip was weak, trembling… but it was there.
"R-Riven?"
"Don't—just don't," Riven stuttered, his words breaking apart like his tongue couldn't keep up. His body jerked as if lightning was traveling through his veins. "Please… just stay by my side."
"Why?" Jordan's voice cracked. "Riven, what's going on?"
Riven didn't answer right away.
Jordan could see him fighting for air, fighting for control, fighting for something.
"Please," Jordan begged. "Please answer me."
Riven's eyes shined with something wet. A tear slipped down the side of his face.
"I just…" he whispered.
His lips trembled.
"…want to be like you."
Then his eyes shut again.
Jordan's whole world dropped.
"No—no, no, no—"
He leaned down immediately, pressing his ear to Riven's chest.
A heartbeat.
Thank God.
But it was wrong.
Too fast.
Too hard.
Like his heart was sprinting inside his ribs.
Jordan pulled back, shaking, staring at his brother's face like he might vanish if Jordan blinked too long.
⸻
An hour earlier
Riven crouched on a thick tree branch, staring down at a camp of massive green creatures.
Orcs.
Not the cute fantasy kind.
These were hulking—shoulders like boulders, muscles packed tight, tusks sharp enough to tear through armor like paper. The air around their camp looked heavy, like the world itself didn't want to get too close.
Riven swallowed.
Okay… think.
He watched them for a full minute, studying their movement, their spacing, their attention.
Then an idea formed.
"Alright," he whispered. "From what I've seen so far… these things attack anything that enters their vision."
He stared at the nearest one.
"Meaning if they see me…" He exhaled. "…I'm dead."
Riven shifted along the branch, moving to the back of the tree so the leaves could hide his body.
"So what if…" his eyes narrowed, "…they don't see the attacker?"
He dropped down to the ground, landing quietly, then started scavenging.
Sticks. Pebbles. Broken chunks of stone. Anything small enough to throw.
If someone had seen him, it would've looked pathetic—like he was digging through dirt for coins.
But Riven didn't care.
He filled his hands, climbed back up, and returned to his original branch. His eyes locked onto the orc camp below.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a small, dirty stone.
A rock.
Riven stared at it.
Then smirked faintly.
"Let's see how good my pitching arm is."
He threw it as hard as he could.
The rock cut through the air and smacked into an orc standing with two others.
Riven leaned forward instantly, waiting for the damage number.
He got one.
But it wasn't what he expected.
[+50 Health]
Riven blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…No way."
He stared at the orc.
The orc scratched its shoulder like it had been mildly annoyed.
Riven's mouth opened.
He threw another rock.
[+50 Health]
"…What?" Riven choked out. "What the hell is this?"
He threw a third.
[+50 Health]
"HOW do I do so little damage that I HEAL them instead?!" Riven hissed, anger and disbelief mixing together. "Who made this game?!"
A system prompt started to materialize in the corner of his vision, but Riven angrily swiped it away like it was an insult.
Below, the orcs were looking around now, heads turning, nostrils flaring as they tried to find the source.
Riven's eyes sharpened.
"Okay," he whispered. "Part one down."
A slow grin formed.
"Now let's see if you guys are as dumb as you look."
He grabbed another rock.
This time, he didn't throw it at them.
He threw it fifteen meters away—into the grass, hard enough to make a sharp crack.
Every single orc turned at once.
Like puppets.
Then they started walking toward the sound.
Riven watched carefully, his heart beating faster.
"…Good," he whispered.
"Now we're playing the same game."
"Follow the mouse" was a success.
Riven repeated the trick for the next fifteen minutes—throw, distract, relocate. Every time the orcs turned their heads like idiots chasing sound, he learned their pattern a little better.
When he finally jumped down from the tree, he didn't hesitate.
He sprinted toward the camp.
Spikes jutted from the ground like crude defenses, some sharpened bone, some jagged wood. Riven climbed carefully, forcing his breathing to stay quiet. The last thing he needed was to die now—after pulling off a plan this clean.
He slipped over the barrier and dropped into the camp.
His eyes flicked around.
Nothing.
No orcs in sight.
Good.
He moved fast but controlled, cutting through the tents and crude structures until his gaze landed on the largest building in the center—less like a hut, more like a stronghold.
"If anything's valuable," he whispered, "it's in there."
Riven approached the door and gently pushed it open, inch by inch, ready to bolt if something lunged at him.
The gap widened.
No movement.
He slipped inside.
And what he saw made his throat tighten.
"Mama Orc…" he breathed.
A massive figure lay sprawled across an even larger bed—bigger than any orc he'd seen in his short time here. Her chest rose and fell in slow, heavy breaths. She was asleep.
He called her Mama Orc because of the name floating above her body.
Not because of anything weird.
He wasn't that down bad.
Riven swallowed and forced himself to think.
Then he noticed something… strange.
He stepped back outside.
Then stepped back in.
Then out again.
Then in again.
The fourth time, it finally clicked.
The inside of the building was way larger than the outside.
He stared around, baffled.
"What kind of logic is this?"
Then he remembered.
Video game.
"Oh," he muttered. "Right."
He crept through the room, scanning every corner, every shelf, every shadow.
Nothing.
Not a single item.
Not a single weapon rack. Not a stash. Not a secret compartment.
The realization hit him like a slap.
"C'mon… there has to be something here. No way this is just—"
His voice died.
His eyes slowly lifted.
Up.
To the massive sleeping orc.
"…Wait," he whispered. "Don't tell me."
A cold fear crawled up his spine.
"This is a game," he told himself, forcing the words to sound true. "I know this is a game…"
He stared at the sleeping giant.
"…So why does the fear feel so real?"
A sound came from outside.
Footsteps.
Multiple.
The orcs were back.
"Damn," Riven hissed. "What now?"
There was no time to think.
Riven rushed to the only hiding spot he could—
—and slid under the Mama Orc's bed.
Moments later, the cabin door opened.
Several orcs entered.
Riven could see their feet, their shadows, the way their bodies shifted—slow, cautious, careful. They weren't charging in.
They were hunting.
They sniffed. They paced. They circled the bed like they didn't even trust their own footsteps.
Riven held his breath so long his lungs screamed.
Seconds stretched.
A minute.
Two.
Then, after a tense search… the orcs finally left.
The door creaked shut.
Riven exhaled silently, barely letting air escape his lips.
Then, as he adjusted his position under the bed, something caught his eye.
A glow—far back in the darkness.
It was faint, but it pulsed like a heartbeat.
Like it had been calling him the entire time.
The bed was so massive that Riven could stand beneath it without even ducking. Curious—and desperate—he carefully moved toward the light.
How did I not notice this sooner?
When he reached the back, he saw it.
A single chest.
Glowing with deep red, mystical light.
Riven didn't know what that color meant—but every gamer instinct he had screamed the same thing:
Loot.
He reached for the lid.
The moment he opened it, a prompt materialized.
⸻
[System]: You surprise me. You have acquired a high-level chest in a high-level area while avoiding high-level beasts—all while still being level one, without any help from friends or party members. We are impressed, so we will add one extra reward for you.
⸻
Yes! Riven nearly shouted, but he swallowed the sound and celebrated in silence.
Another prompt appeared.
⸻
[System]: Epic Item — Shard of Negative Space
This item, when used, causes the user's footsteps and overall presence to become as quiet as a shadow, allowing them to remain hidden from enemies.
⸻
"This is cool, I guess," Riven whispered, clutching the shard.
"I definitely could've used this earlier."
Another prompt slid in.
⸻
[System]: Legendary Item — Potential Potion
This potion increases the user's experience gain speed for leveling their Evolution ability by 2x. However, the true value of this item is revealed if the user visits the NPC Norad, located northwest of the Carverdale Kingdom.
Norad can unlock your true potential. If he does, you will gain a significant level boost.
Note: Upon unlocking your potential, the potion's first effect will be lost.
⸻
Riven stared at the purple potion inside its glass container.
"Hm…"
His first instinct was to drink it immediately.
Then he checked his remaining battery time.
Almost five hours left.
He hesitated—then carefully stored it.
Jordan can use this. No way I waste something like this when it's his turn next.
Then the final prompt appeared.
And this one…
made Riven's skin prickle.
⸻
[System]: Mythical Item — Blood Spear
This item feeds on the blood of its user. When activated, the user will be teleported to a mythical land based on their blood type. These lands are ruled by kings capable of granting abilities beyond your understanding.
It is advised to use this item as early as possible if you wish to rise quickly in the world.
⸻
Riven's mouth went dry.
"Mythical… land?" he whispered.
He checked the time again.
One hour remaining.
He looked down.
In his hand was the blue orb—cold, smooth, humming faintly.
As he stared, another prompt surfaced.
⸻
[System]: Would you like to use the Blood Spear now?
[Y / N]
⸻
Riven thought for a moment.
"I never really planned how I'd escape from here," he admitted to himself.
"This could take me out instantly… and I won't drop my items."
He pictured Jordan, putting on the headset after him.
Jordan would have a free run while I'm gone… if this works.
After thinking for a few more minutes, he made the choice.
Yes.
A sharp needle slid out from the weapon and pierced directly into the hand holding it.
Riven stiffened.
He could feel it.
The unmistakable sensation of something foreign entering his skin—like an injection. A sharp sting followed.
That shouldn't have been possible.
He turned his pain receptors off.
Needles shouldn't hurt.
Yet…
He felt every second of it.
Then—
The system flashed.
⸻
[System: Error — Evaluating blood. Please wait while the issue is identified.]
⸻
Riven frowned. "An error…? Is this normal?"
He stared at the message, uneasy.
"My blood type should be B-positive," he muttered. "At least… I think it's B-positive. Or maybe A-negative. I always forget."
Then he froze.
"…Wait."
His eyes narrowed.
"How would they even have my actual blood in the first place?"
Before the system could finish loading—
A massive boom shook the room.
A deep, thunderous growl followed it.
Riven already knew what that meant.
And the moment two giant feet slammed into the ground beside the bed, his theory became reality.
"Oh…" Riven whispered.
"That ain't good."
He whipped his head around for a hiding spot.
There wasn't one.
The system was still loading.
Five minutes remaining.
The bed creaked.
Not like wood bending.
Like something breathing.
The weight lifted off the mattress.
Then came the sniffing.
Slow.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
The Mama Orc sensed something wrong.
Riven's heartbeat began to pound in his skull.
That wasn't a good sign.
His eyes snapped to the chest.
He didn't think—he moved.
Riven bolted and threw himself inside, pulling the lid shut with shaking hands, leaving only a thin crack to see through.
A creak came from the bed.
Riven peeked.
The Mama Orc leaned forward, lowering her massive upper body to peer under the frame.
For one split second—
Eye contact.
Deep red eyes.
As red as blood.
Riven slammed the chest shut and shivered so hard his teeth clicked.
She didn't see him.
But she noticed something else.
The chest no longer had the same shine it once did.
The cabin shook as she climbed down.
A roar ripped through the room—so loud it felt physical.
Riven clamped his hands over his ears, panic flooding him. It felt like his eardrums would burst if he didn't.
Two minutes passed.
Then the cabin door creaked open.
Riven couldn't help it.
Curiosity stabbed through his fear.
He cracked the chest open again.
Four green feet stepped inside.
Then two more orcs followed.
Growls filled the room—low, harsh, furious.
Riven couldn't understand their language, but he didn't need to.
Anger was universal.
The Mama Orc's rage felt like a mother screaming at her child for failing.
The system timer ticked down.
Three minutes remaining.
Then—
Riven nearly vomited inside the chest.
One of the orcs was lifted into the air.
Feet kicking.
Arms flailing.
A sickening crunch echoed through the cabin.
Then a wet splat.
The body hit the floor—split in half.
Guts spilled out.
Lower skeleton exposed.
Riven clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself not to look again.
Then—
Ding.
⸻
[System: Examination complete. Would you like to teleport to the Land of the Fey?]
[Y / N]
⸻
⸻
Author Note (Kelcey):
Hey, Kelcey. I'm going to make you something quick. As you can probably tell, this is different from my original book, Wallborn. I realized I made some mistakes, so I decided to revise the entire story. Hopefully, this new version will be more successful than the last one.