A few minutes drifted by as Riven lay sprawled on the wooden floor of the training area, Luna curled up atop his chest. I should probably get moving soon, he thought, though his body refused to cooperate. His gaze wandered to a flickering rune on the ceiling, likely part of the same array responsible for expanding this space. The faint glow pulsed erratically, but Riven lazily chalked it up to normal rune activity—until the stone itself started to vibrate.
His brows furrowed. Okay, that's not normal.
Then the entire floor trembled beneath him. His eyes widened as he shot to his feet, heart pounding. Luna was quicker—she had already teleported to a nearby shelf, her fur bristling.
Riven scanned the room. Every weapon rack, every cabinet, every piece of furniture shook violently. His mind raced. Earthquake? He vaguely recalled something about not staying indoors during one—especially in a place like this, where the outer walls weren't exactly inspiring confidence.
Roman's warning about using the back exit flashed in his mind, but he ignored it. Sprinting across the training room, he threw open the office door and burst into the bar.
And stopped dead in his tracks.
What the…?
A massive cube of translucent blue energy pulsed in the center of the room. Inside it, two figures stood motionless, locked in silent confrontation. Outside the barrier, the bar was in ruins—tables overturned, chairs smashed, deep claw-like gouges raked across the floorboards. The place was eerily empty, as if every patron had fled the moment that thing appeared.
Yeah, must be the giant blue box, Riven thought dryly.
Instinct kicked in, and he dropped low, creeping behind the bar with slow, deliberate movements. His eyes never left the two men inside the energy field. Only when he was fully concealed did he recognize one of them.
Roman.
Riven almost called out—but stopped himself just in time. Roman's earlier warning rang in his head like a gong.
Don't get involved.
So instead, Riven focused on the other man.
He was tall, with long sky-green hair that drifted behind him, moving as if caught in an unseen breeze. He wore a tailored silver-and-green suit, an insignia emblazoned on his chest, and a short cape draped across his back. The man radiated elegance—sophistication in human form. Yet his expression betrayed something far more dangerous.
A manic grin stretched across his face, sharp and predatory, his glowing sky-blue eyes locked onto Roman like a hunter savoring the moment before the kill.
Roman, by contrast, was rigid, his expression a mask of hardened control. But beneath the surface, Riven could see it—the barely restrained fury.
An invisible current of wind coiled around the man, shifting like a living specter. At first, Riven wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light, but as the seconds passed, he caught flickers of green energy pulsing within the air.
Then it hit him. Windmere.
His gaze sharpened, locking onto the crest emblazoned on the man's suit. A chill ran down his spine. He's from the main family.
Riven cast a glance at Roman, expecting some sort of reaction. But Roman remained unreadable, his expression a mask of cold indifference as he stared down the Windmere noble.
Then, without warning, a flash of blinding light erupted in front of the man.
When the glare subsided, a towering avian beast stood in its place, nearly ten feet tall. Its silver-green feathers shimmered like polished metal, wreathed in a pale green aura that crackled with raw power. The Windmere noble spread his arms, his predatory grin stretching wider as he spoke—but no sound reached Riven's ears. The energy field around them was blocking all noise.
Not that Riven needed to hear. He knew exactly what he was looking at.
The greater beast, Gale Beak.
Luna must have recognized it too. She tensed against Riven's shoulder, ears flat, her tiny body pressing further into the curve of his neck as if trying to disappear.
Roman's stance shifted. Slowly, he raised his left arm, fingers splayed wide. Another burst of light flared to life—this time at his side.
When the glow faded, a massive greatsword rested in his grip.
Riven's breath hitched as he took in the weapon. Nearly as tall as Roman himself, the blade was forged from a dark gray metal unlike anything Riven had ever seen. It had an unnatural sheen, not quite reflecting the light but absorbing it, as though drinking in the surrounding energy. Mana-infused metal, he thought, his mind racing.
Roman's grip tightened around the hilt. In a single fluid motion, he swung the sword in a broad arc before resting it against his shoulder.
If the Windmere noble was impressed, he didn't show it. He merely stood there, that wild, hungry grin still carved into his face as he stared Roman down.
Riven's mind raced, grasping for an explanation as to why Roman had drawn someone like that here. This was a poor, rundown district—what business did a noble of his stature have in a place like this?
Riven wasn't sure about much when it came to nobles. His parents had ensured he had as little interaction with them as possible, aside from the few he encountered at school before the Soul Tournament. But one thing he was certain of—no main family member was weak. And one wandering around without guards in an area like this? That meant they were something far worse.
As if in response to his thoughts, the noble's fingers twitched. A sudden vortex of green ethereal wind flared to life in his palms, swirling into two concentrated spheres. At the same time, his beast opened its beak, and another identical mass of wind energy began forming in front of it, all angled toward Roman.
The sheer magical pressure was suffocating. Riven's legs nearly buckled beneath him, and he had to circulate his amber mana through his body just to stay upright.
I should have left.
The thought barely had time to settle before the noble thrust his hands forward, unleashing the three churning spheres. A spiraling vortex of wind tore through the air, roaring toward Roman.
One moment, Roman was still, watching the attack. The next, his arm had already dropped—and the vortex was ripped apart as though it had never existed. The ground quaked under the force of his counter. Riven barely caught the motion, but the deep red glow now pulsing along Roman's sword made one thing clear—it wasn't just an ordinary weapon. It was something powerful. Something capable of channeling immense mana.
The noble wasn't done. His hands dropped to the floor, and another vortex burst forth from beneath Roman, swallowing him whole. The beast seized the moment, wings igniting with green energy as it soared upward. Then, with a single massive flap, it sent two razor-sharp crescents of wind energy slicing toward the swirling vortex.
Riven's grip on the table tightened, his eyes locked on Roman's position. Why hasn't he summoned his bond yet?
The answer came an instant later.
The vortex shattered as the wind blades tore through it, triggering an explosion of compressed air. Dust and shredded wood erupted in all directions, sending debris skidding across the floor. Through the chaos, Riven caught sight of a beam of red light streaking toward the beast.
Squinting, he realized—that's not light.
It was Roman. His sword angled forward, cutting through the dust as he shot toward the creature like a spear.
The beast reacted in time, flapping its massive wings to dodge, but Roman wasn't finished. Twisting mid-air, he landed on the dome's ceiling, crouching for only a fraction of a second before launching himself again. This time, his sword pulsed with red energy, doubling in size as he thrust it forward.
The enclosed space left the beast with no room to escape. Instead, it raised its talons, now wreathed in emerald light. The claws extended, tripling in length, and caught the blade mid-strike.
Roman jerked to a stop in midair, locked in a power struggle against the beast's crushing grip.
The noble took full advantage. His hands stretched forward again, but this time, the swirling green energy in his palms darkened, thickening into something wild. The winds no longer flowed in smooth streams—instead, they twisted and clashed against each other, violent and unstable, sending chaotic gusts blasting in all directions.
Roman tilted his head toward the noble, likely sensing the shift in power. He wrenched at his blade, trying to break free of the beast's grasp, but it refused to let go.
For the first time, Riven saw something flicker across Roman's face—concern.
Then, his expression hardened. His grip on the massive hilt tightened, and with a single motion, he swung himself forward, using the sword as leverage. His legs glowed with the same dense red energy as he drove both feet into the beast's chest.
The impact was brutal. The creature faltered, its claws loosening just enough for Roman to rip his sword free. He dropped like a stone, crashing to the ground in a plume of dust.
But there was no time to recover.
Above him, the noble's outstretched hands burned with power. The twin spheres of energy had morphed, no longer simple vortexes. Now, they spiraled violently into a single mass—a dark green tornado, churning with chaotic, shredding winds.
It wasn't just magic anymore.
It was something destructive.
And it was heading straight for Roman.