Riven's other self had told him to buy hair dye.
He hadn't understood why—until he saw his reflection.
His hair was a strange mixture of green and black, the colors split unevenly, sitting side by side as if neither wanted to give way. Neither color fully dominated. Just… clashing.
Only then did Riven understand.
Green wasn't his color.
"I think it's okay," Joey said honestly, tilting his head as he looked at Riven. "I kind of like the half-and-half."
"I don't," Riven snapped back. "Harkel, they gave you units, didn't they? We need to go down to the city and buy some hair dye. Now."
He pulled his hood back, fully revealing his hair.
"Uh… about that," Harkel said, scratching the back of his head. "I was meaning to explain this to everyone."
"So I spent all of my units with the instructors and that shed."
"But why can't you just ask the Voss Clan for money?" Luka asked.
"No. We can't ask anyone for units during the Games," Harkel replied firmly. "If we do, we get a penalty."
"How bad are the penalties?" Leo asked.
"I don't know. It could be negative points… or straight-up removal from the game entirely. This is part of the rules."
Riven clenched his fist. "So what—you're saying we need to make our own money if we want weapons?"
"Wait," Jordan said. "The Academy gives us 100 units every month, so shouldn't we—"
"That also counts," Harkel cut in. "Meaning the only way we can get units is by hunting beasts, collecting their gemstones, and selling them online."
He paused, then added, "Which brings up something else we need to do."
Everyone looked at him, confused.
Harkel pulled out a sheet of paper and laid it on the round table. Everyone leaned in.
Printed across the page were names and photos of students.
"I've been thinking," Harkel said. "After our first beast hunt, we need at least twenty gemstones if we want custom-made weapons."
"The Academy will give us weapons through combat class," he continued, "so we're fine for now. But those are all Level One weapons."
Everyone already knew what he was about to say.
"Beast weapons are rare," Harkel said. "So rare that even the Academy is stingy with them. If we want higher-level weapons, the Academy is useless."
He tapped the paper.
"These students are all in the forging class."
Understanding slowly spread through the group.
Forgers—people capable of turning beast gemstones into weapons.
It was a respected art. Beautiful, difficult, and highly sought after. Many people pursued forging because it allowed them to climb the ranks of guilds and factions without excelling in combat.
But only the truly skilled forgers ever reached the top.
"So these five students are currently the best in beast forging," Harkel said. "I'm open to suggestions on who we should approach."
"I say her," Riven said, pointing at a girl.
He didn't know why he picked her—only that she looked focused, completely absorbed in her work.
"I say him," Joey said, pointing at a boy who looked relaxed and easygoing while crafting. "He looks like he knows what he's doing."
"That's not a smart way to judge," Leo said, stepping in.
He knew beast weapons well—the Ashvale Clan used them extensively.
"Forging isn't easy," Leo continued. "A forger needs total focus—mind and body. They need to know exactly what they're doing before they even start."
He looked at Joey's choice.
"If someone like that crafts your weapon, it'll probably be faulty. Or worse—it won't have a built-in trait at all. That makes it weaker than other weapons of the same level."
Silence fell over the table.
"…He's right," Luka muttered.
"I say none of them," Jordan finally spoke, studying the paper. "It's too early. Rankings can change in a week or two."
"Some people just haven't had time to shine yet."
Everyone nodded.
"That's smart," Harkel agreed. "But I still believe our first ally should be a forger."
Riven grabbed his hair. "So… I'm stuck like this?"
"I guess so," Harkel chuckled.
"Don't worry," Leo said with a grin, clearly holding back laughter. "By the time we get units, you'll probably be used to it."
"Yeah, yeah," Riven waved him off. "But there's something else."
His tone shifted.
He told them about meeting his future self again.
When he finished, the room was quiet.
"…Is it just me," Luka finally said, "or is Future Riven the most useless version out of all of them?"
"Hey!" Riven yelled.
"Yeah, he's got a point," Jordan chuckled.
Riven sighed, scratching his half-green, half-black hair.
"But we can all agree that warning wasn't meant for me. In most fights, I go all out."
"So who was it for?" Leo asked.
Riven answered by turning his gaze toward Joey.
"…Me?" Joey pointed at himself, stunned.
Then quieter, "…Me."
"Joey," Riven said seriously, "you know what this means. You need to stop holding back."
Joey stiffened.
"I know you're scared. I know you don't want to hurt people. But beasts won't hesitate to kill us."
"If we want to live… if you really want to help Harkel become king… then everyone needs to fight at full strength."
"Can you do that?"
Joey hesitated.
Then Harkel stood.
"Do it for me," he said, bowing deeply. "I need you by my side."
"I need all of you by my side."
"Fate put us together for a reason," Harkel continued. "And I can't lead my clan if I don't rely on the people around me."
"So please… help me."
Joey froze.
He was a wallborn—someone with nothing.
And here stood the direct son of a powerful clan… bowing to him.
That alone said everything about Harkel's character.
He wasn't arrogant.
He wasn't forceful.
He could've demanded Joey unleash his power.
But instead… he asked.
He begged.
Joey felt his chest warm.
Maybe… kind people still existed in this world.
"…Yes," Joey said quietly.
Then louder, "I will."
"I won't hold back—during beast hunts or any fight. I promise."
Harkel lifted his head, smiling brightly.
Leo suddenly threw his arms wide and pulled everyone into a group hug.
"This is great!" he laughed. "Some of us are getting stronger, others are showing their true selves!"
"At this rate, I won't even need to fight—and I won't evolve!"
He laughed loudly—
Then stopped.
Because his arm was forcibly ripped away.
"Geez—!" Riven gasped for air. "You almost made me pass out!"
It was Riven who had broken free, proving just how strong he'd become.
Leo blinked.
"…Sweet," he thought.
An hour later
Riven went out for a walk.
He needed time to think—and to get accustomed to his new body.
Every time he clenched his fist, every time he moved, he could feel it. His body felt different. Not weak. Not wrong. Just… unfamiliar. Like it wasn't fully his yet.
But second by second, he was getting used to it.
As he walked across the Academy campus, he felt eyes on him. None of them carried killing intent or hostility—but there was confusion. Mockery.
He knew why.
Yesterday, his hair had been pitch black.
Now it was green and black.
The combination was strange, and people weren't subtle about staring.
After a while, Riven decided it would be smarter to test his body properly—in a combat setting.
He changed direction and headed toward one of the training buildings. It was a place students often visited after classes for extra practice.
When he entered, the noise hit him immediately.
Some students were doing basic exercises. Others were sparring, abilities flashing as they faced one another in combat.
This was exactly what he needed.
A test.
As Riven scanned the room, his eyes landed on a familiar face.
Not someone he liked.
Not someone he wanted to like.
A boy from his homeroom class.
The one who had talked about his parents.
Riven had never been the type to play around when it came to that. There were lines you didn't cross. His parents. His brothers. And now… his friends.
Those were the people who mattered.
And Jay had crossed that line.
Riven walked straight toward him.
Jay was standing with a group—both girls and guys—clearly trying to impress them. Laughing. Talking. Acting confident.
Riven didn't care.
He stepped forward, positioning himself directly in front of one of the girls, locking eyes with Jay.
"Yo—you," Jay said, narrowing his eyes. He hadn't seen Riven in a while. The boy had been skipping homeroom, and Jay had assumed he'd gotten scared and backed off.
"Yeah. Me," Riven replied calmly. "Remember the shit you were talking about my parents?"
"And so what if I was?" another boy said, stepping forward and pushing Jay back slightly. "This the wallborn you were talking about in class, Jay?"
"Yeah," Jay said from behind his friend. "Don't worry about him. All talk. No bite."
Riven finally looked at the boy standing in front of him.
Something was off.
The uniform.
It was different—not just from Riven's, but from every other first-year in the room.
"I don't care," the boy said, shoving Riven lightly. "You mess with my little brother, you mess with me. So make a move, wallborn."
Riven stumbled back half a step.
He didn't react.
Because he wasn't here for him.
He was here for Jay.
"Is that wallborn insane?" someone whispered nearby.
"Doesn't he know?"
"I don't think he does…"
At that moment, Nico walked into the training facility. This was where she usually spent most of her time after classes.
"Wait… is that Riven?" she muttered, confused by his new look. "When did he dye his—"
She stopped.
Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening.
"…Damn," she whispered. "That idiot—doesn't he know who that is?"
She swallowed.
"That's a second-year."