His eyes widened.
"What is—"
The words left him.
But that only made it worse.
Beneath his voice was another.
Layered under it. Softer. Lighter.
Perfectly aligned within the same breath.
He froze.
The sound faded into the wind.
For a brief, terrible second, he knew exactly what it resembled.
It wasn't an imitation.
It wasn't distortion.
It sounded like her.
Not speaking over him.
Not separate from him.
But threaded through his own voice as if it had always belonged there.
His throat tightened.
"What… is this skill?"
This time he barely let the words form.
Silence answered.
Then he felt a faint pull at the edge of his awareness.
A strain.
Like tension building beneath the surface.
The warmth inside him shifted.
Less steady now.
He turned inward instinctively.
And felt it—
The blossom in his Mind Palace dimming, just slightly.
The crimson center no longer pulsing as confidently as before.
The seal was running out of energy.
Before long it dimmed completely.
And heat spread through his body again.
But this time it retracted.
The second pulse that had aligned with his heartbeat began to drift out of rhythm.
Once.
Twice.
Then it faltered.
The grey qi coating his right arm flickered.
The sharp sheen dulled.
His fingers—slender, pale, elegant—lost solidity at the edges.
The arm unraveled without pain. Threads of grey light peeled away from his shoulder like mist being drawn backward into a vacuum. The structure dissolved from fingertips inward, forearm thinning, elbow fading—
Until there was nothing.
The weight vanished.
The absence returned.
And somehow it felt weird.
Even though he'd only recovered his arm for a short time of maybe five minutes.
His white hair darkened strand by strand, color bleeding back in from root to tip, before small threads of blue and green showed up. The length shortened, brushing his shoulders—then his neck—then settling back to what it had been before.
The subtle refinement in his features washed away.
His breathing steadied.
The second heartbeat disappeared completely.
And his boosted strength returned to what it had been before.
Silence.
Only his own pulse remained.
He stood there for a few seconds longer.
Then—
"…Hello?"
The word left him softly.
Only his own voice answered.
Flat. Singular.
No second tone threaded beneath it.
It felt strange to speak without purpose—stranger still to confirm that nothing answered back. The air carried the sound away without resistance.
He stopped trying.
His gaze dropped to his right shoulder.
Empty.
The familiar absence stared back at him.
A faint ache lingered—not pain, but memory.
It was maybe five minutes of balance. Of having two hands again.
But it had felt great.
Like he had been complete again.
A flicker of disappointment moved through him.
Then hesitation followed.
Walking around with someone else's arm attached to him—
Her arm—
White hair. Altered face. Layered voice.
Maybe it's better like this afterall.
It was cleaner like this.
Not a permanent transformation.
Just a temporary situation.
A combat skill.
He exhaled quietly and turned inward once more.
The blossom in his Mind Palace was dim now, the crimson center reduced to a faint glow. Not extinguished. Just exhausted.
Unlike the Divine Speed bloodline, which strained muscle and tendon and left his body trembling, this—
This left something deeper fatigued.
His thoughts felt heavier.
Edges dulled.
A tiredness that didn't sit in his limbs, but behind his eyes.
Soul strain.
His eyes started to fall, before he quickly caught himself.
For now, he needed distance.
He walked back to the shattered remains of the small gale scorpion. The corpse was already still, ichor drying against stone.
He crouched and cut into it with Yue Lin's dagger.
No beast core.
He hadn't expected one.
He removed the poison sac carefully, then carved a few strips of usable meat. Not much—but enough.
Everything went into the ring.
Then he headed toward the cave he and Yue Lin had once used as shelter.
The walk was quiet.
The wind unchanged.
When he reached the entrance, he paused and scanned the area carefully.
No disturbed gravel.
No fresh tracks.
No territorial markings.
Good.
Inside, the cave was as they had left it.
He stepped in.
Sat down.
Leaned back against stone.
Exhaustion crept up on him again.
For a moment, he told himself it was only the transformation.
But it wasn't.
The trial.
Yue Lin.
Vaern.
Everything.
It all weighed on him at once.
He closed his eyes.
Just for a moment.
Darkness pressed in gently.
His breathing slowed.
He drifted.
Then—
His body jerked.
Eyes snapping open.
His hand moved on instinct.
The ring at his chest flickered.
Yue Lin's dagger slid into his palm.
Still half-drowsy, he pressed the blade into his thigh.
Not deep.
Just enough.
Sharp pain lanced upward instantly.
His breath hissed between his teeth.
Fully awake.
"!"
"That was close."
He wouldn't have done this months ago.
Back then, exhaustion was just exhaustion. Sleep was just sleep.
Now he knew better.
One lapse.One moment of carelessness.
That was all it took.
He couldn't sleep yet.Not here.Not with the Greater Feral Gale Scorpion roaming nearby.
If he fell asleep now and got dragged out in the night—
That would be the biggest joke of all.
He pulled the dagger free.
The wound was shallow. Already clotting.
But even if he didn't want to sleep, he couldn't stay awake much longer either.
His eyelids felt heavy.
His thoughts slower.
This wasn't ordinary fatigue. It pressed inward from somewhere deeper, dulling his awareness at the edges.
He pushed himself upright.
Staying here like this would get him killed.
He stepped back toward the cave entrance and looked outside, scanning the terrain again.
His gaze shifted.
A large boulder sat a short distance to the right of the cave mouth. Half-buried. Broad. Thick enough to block the opening if moved.
He stared at it for a moment.
Then walked over.
He planted his feet and pressed his right should and left hand against the stone.
Pushed.
It didn't budge.
His jaw tightened.
Qi flowed through his legs, into his core, then into his remaining arm and shoulder. His muscles tightened, veins standing out as he leaned his full weight into it.
The stone shifted.
Barely.
Grinding against gravel.
He adjusted his footing and pushed again.
Slowly.
Inch by inch.
It was heavy—but his body after the trial was stronger—far beyond what it had been months ago.
The boulder scraped forward.
Closer.
Closer.
Until at last he maneuvered it in front of the cave entrance.
It didn't seal it completely. He left a narrow gap at the side—just wide enough for him to squeeze through sideways.
From outside, it looked almost fully blocked.
He slipped back in and examined the gap.
Maybe he was being paranoid, but even this gap, too small for a beast like the Greater Feral Gale Scorpion to pass through, was too big in his opinion.
But he couldn't close it fully.
From inside, he had no leverage to pull the stone fully shut.
He frowned faintly.
Then paused.
The ring.
He touched it lightly and sent a thread of soul force inward.
The small storage space unfolded in his awareness.
Clothes.
Pouches.
Tools.
And—
A folded brown blanket.
He withdrew it.
The fabric fell into his hand, rough but intact.
He wedged one edge between the boulder and the cave wall up top, then let it hang down, pulling it in place to cover the narrow opening.
Light dimmed instantly.
From outside, it should look like shadow.
From inside, the cave sank into near darkness.
As good as possible.
He stepped deeper inside, toward the back where the rock curved inward slightly, forming a natural recess.
He didn't check the ring for anything else.
Didn't look for bedding.
Didn't care.
He was too tired.
His body now on the ground gave in.
His eyes closed and even darker darkness immediately swallowed him whole.
>>>
When his eyes opened again, he didn't know how long had passed.
The cave was still dark. The blanket over the entrance let in no more than a thin seam of muted light along the edges.
For a moment, he simply lay there.
Listening.
His mind felt… steady.
Not perfectly restored—but far better than before.
The exhaustion pressing behind his eyes had receded. The dull ache in his thoughts had lifted.
He turned inward.
The Mind Palace unfolded in quiet stillness.
And there—
The five-petal blossom was no longer dimmed.
It glowed faintly.
The crimson center pulsed with full, confident rhythm.
A slow breath left him.
How long he had slept, he couldn't tell—minutes or hours—but whatever time had passed, it had been enough.
He could transform whenever he wanted.
Riven rose and walked toward the entrance.
At the blanket's edge, he paused and lifted a corner just enough to peer outside.
Still.
No scorpion in sight.
No signs of disturbance.
Good.
He withdrew the blanket and sent it back into the ring, then slipped through the narrow gap beside the boulder. Once outside, he left the stone in place.
No need to undo it.
His steps were confident, a goal in mind.
A little later he reached it, a cliffside loomed ahead, jagged and wind-worn.
At its base, half-hidden beneath loose stone and dried moss, a narrow crevice waited.
The scorpion's lair.
Faint movement flickered in the darkness within.
His eyes hardened.
That Greater Feral had lived long enough.