Chapter 4 : Ruins
Drifting through the trees, Riven moved like a mirage—appearing in one place, vanishing the next.
Even so, the kept up.
Just as Riven intended.
He veered sharply to the right without warning. The creature failed to adjust in time and slammed headfirst into a tree, the impact cracking through the forest. It staggered back two steps, shaking off the blow—
—then unleashed a deafening scream that nearly ruptured Riven's eardrums.
Despite that, it lunged forward again, relentless, claws tearing into the earth as it resumed the chase.
Riven glanced back, his gaze sharp, predatory.
A hunter's focus.
One mistake—one misstep—and he would die.
He pushed on, heart steady, breath controlled. Then, at the edge of his vision, something moved.
Another shadow.
Then another—this one to his left.
Two more Aeskarims emerged from the trees, cutting off his path.
That's not right, Riven thought grimly. They're not supposed to travel in groups this time of year. What's happening?
He assessed the situation instantly.
Riven knew his limits.After all knowing your limits is a strength, not a weakness. He could lure one Aeskarmi into his trap and kill it cleanly.
But two?
Fighting even one head-on with nothing but sword and martial skill was deadly.
Facing two would be a death sentence.
He had to improvise.
Survival came first.
His priority was clear—kill one with the trap, then face the remaining two by sheer will or miracle.
Riven sprinted through the forest, cutting sharp angles, feet barely touching the ground. The familiar clearing appeared ahead.
The trap.
He reached it and raised his sword, slicing cleanly through the thin line that held the massive trunk aloft.
But he didn't turn back.
He kept running.
Only a single glance over his shoulder—
The trunk fell like a meteor, slamming into the earth with catastrophic force.
One of the abominations was crushed instantly, its body reduced to a broken ruin beneath the weight.
One down.
Plans raced through Riven's mind—too many, too fast. None felt right. His movements became erratic as panic crept in. He clipped trees, bark scraping his skin, his speed faltering with every mistake.
Then it was too late.
A thunderous side kick slammed into his lower body.
Pain exploded.
Riven was hurled meters away, crashing through undergrowth before rolling across the forest floor again and again until his body finally stopped.
For a moment, the world spun.
Then the pain arrived in full.
Blood spilled from his mouth. The taste of iron filled his senses. He spat it onto the ground and forced his trembling hand around the hilt of his sword.
Planting the blade into the earth, he used it to pull himself up.
One knee remained pressed into the mud.
Sweat and grime coated his body as he slowly lifted his head.
Two figures stood before him.
Horrible.
Twisted.
Long necks craned unnaturally above narrow shoulders, massive ears twitching as they stared him down.
Riven drew in a ragged breath and pushed himself higher.
Muscles screamed.
Bones protested.
But he rose.
Standing at last on both legs, battered and bleeding
Facing them.
'Come bastards, i will take you to hell myself'
Riven smiled crookedly, crimson-stained teeth bared.
Gathering every shred of strength left in his battered body, he lunged at the creature on the right, blade flashing toward its throat—if it even had one.
The Aeskarmi saw through the attack as if it were nothing.
It slid aside effortlessly.
Riven's strike cut only air.
Before he could recover or attempt a follow-up, a brutal kick came crashing down from above.
Pain tore through his spine.
His body slammed into the ground, breath ripped from his lungs. He lay there, gasping, unable to move.
Is this really it?
Is this how I die?
At least… I didn't die like a coward. I fought.
Riven closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the moment. He listened as a heavy foot lifted high above him, poised to crush his skull.
Strangely, peace washed over him.
An end to this life—
No.
To this nightmare.
…To hell with this.
Hatred surged within him, burning hotter than fear. It gave him will. Purpose.
But hatred alone wouldn't save him.
Rage did not grant miracles.
The creature's foot descended with lightning speed.
Riven's eyes snapped open.
He twisted his head just enough.
The blow missed.
Acting on pure instinct, Riven seized his sword with what little strength remained and hurled it forward.
The blade struck true.
It carved cleanly through the creature's eyes.
A piercing scream ripped through the forest.
That moment—
That single heartbeat of distraction—
Was enough.
Riven forced his broken body upright and ran.
He didn't know where he was going.
He didn't care.
He only knew one thing—
If he wanted to live, he had to run.
Behind him, the blinded Aeskarmi howled in fury. Despite its injury, it quickly regained its focus, locking onto the limping boy fleeing through the trees.
The advantage was still theirs.
Riven tried to use his mirage technique again, darting left and right—but with his shattered speed, it was useless.
The forest changed.
The trees grew unfamiliar.
He had never been this deep before.
He was dozens of kilometers from the village.
No help was coming.
Even if he were closer… no one would have come.
If only I had a team, he thought bitterly. If we fought together, this would have been easy.
Sadness crept into his expression.
No team would ever accept him.
He was nameless.
In this world, lacking a surname made you less than nothing.
A village that sheltered a nameless risked its reputation.
A shop that traded with one would be avoided.
To them—
Riven was no better than garbage.
Still running with everything he had left, Riven felt the creatures closing in.
They were close—far too close.
The Aeskarmi on his left, its eyes still intact, drew a sword from its sheath. The blade caught a glint of dim light as it rose, poised to strike Riven from behind.
And just as the attack was about to fall—
The world vanished.
Riven, along with both creatures, dropped into a vast abyss.
Pitch-black.
Silent.
There was no wind. No sound. Only endless falling.
Before he could even scream, a withered gray stone appeared beneath him as if conjured from nothing.
His head struck it violently.
Blood splattered across the stone.
Pain exploded through his skull.
His vision blurred—but then, slowly, his eyes opened.
From above, organs and blood rained down, splattering against the ground around him.
With what little strength remained, Riven rolled onto his back.
What he saw stole his breath.
The two Aeskarmis were gone.
In their place hovered countless cubic fragments, suspended unnaturally in the air. At first, they appeared motionless—but then Riven noticed it.
A thin line.
So impossibly fine it was nearly invisible to the naked eye.
Blood traced its path in the air.
As the creatures fell, that line had sliced through them—again and again—reducing them to hundreds of perfectly severed pieces.
Riven swallowed hard.
Why wasn't I cut too?
What… is this place?
He forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pain screaming through his body.
The walls surrounding him were carved from stone—once solid, now cracked and brittle, thick vines creeping through the fractures like veins. Etched into the walls were countless thin lines, forming an enormous mural.
The carving depicted a vast, sun-like entity.
At its center was a single, enormous eye.
Four radiant rays extended from the creature, each reaching down toward a kneeling figure.
On the upper right stood a figure Riven assumed to be a woman. She wore garments fit for royalty—a coat trimmed with expensive fur, her body adorned with countless pieces of jewelry. Yet when Riven tried to focus on her face, he found it erased.
Only vague details remained.
In truth, every kneeling figure had their face erased.
Next, on the lower right, was a man clad in strange armor—so tightly fitted it almost seemed to be his skin rather than metal. A warrior of some kind.
On the upper left knelt another man.
This one appeared ordinary.
No royal garments. No strange armor.
Just… normal.
As Riven's gaze drifted downward, a small detail caught his eye.
And froze his blood.
On the lower wrist of the ordinary man was a carved mark.
The letter S.
The same mark burned into Riven's own left wrist.
He gasped, pain flaring through his chest as he raised his trembling hand to compare.
It was identical.
Questions flooded his mind—but he didn't have the luxury to dwell on them.
Swallowing hard, Riven shifted his gaze to the final kneeling figure.
His breath hitched.
Almost everything about this person had been erased.
Only the lower body remained—kneeling legs carved into the stone.
Where the face and upper body should have been, two deep scars crossed violently through the mural.
An X.
Not faded.
Not worn.
But deliberately carved.
Riven's pulse thundered in his ears.
He pulled his gaze away and finally noticed the structure of the chamber itself.
He stood at the center of a vast circular room.
And embedded into the stone walls—
One on each side—
Were four massive doors.