A dull ache dragged Riven back to consciousness. Groaning, he pried his eyes open and clutched his throbbing head in both hands—the familiar, punishing aftermath of mana depletion gnawing through his skull.
Damn, that hurts. Thought I'd be used to it by now.
The thought made him chuckle, only for the pain to retaliate with a spike of agony that almost made him wince aloud. Slowly, he lifted his head, expecting to see the sterile whites of a healer's center or, at the very least, the crumbling rafters of that rundown tavern.
Instead, dim orange torchlight flickered across rough stone walls, casting long, twitching shadows. Cold bit at his back from the floor—also stone—and three of the walls boxed him in with unyielding silence. The only way out was ahead: a barred gate of blackened metal, its lock sealed tight at the center.
Wait… what? Am I in a jail cell?
The question came not with panic but confusion, a slow, disbelieving blink as the fog in his mind began to clear. Then it hit him—the last moments before darkness claimed him. The noble's face flashed across his memory, twisted in fury as he rushed forward. Then nothing.
Riven exhaled. So I'm being held captive… Probably in that noble's estate or something.
His thoughts were cut short by a sudden, unmistakable fullness deep within. Something throbbed faintly—not in his head, but in his soul. Alarmed, he sat up straighter, folding his legs and closing his eyes as he slipped inward, into the quiet, infinite space of his soul.
His astral self drifted toward the cores. Both pulsed like living hearts, larger now, vibrant with renewed strength.
Shit. There's no mistaking it. I ranked up.
Riven hovered between them, probing with a mix of curiosity and quiet anticipation. The joy faded quickly as he assessed the change—only Rank 1. A tired groan escaped him.
His second core had siphoned half of the beast essence again, and worse, most of it had been wasted. The gap between his strength and that of the beasts he'd fought was too great.
They were at least Rank 3… and I was just a Rank 0. Over half the essence must've bled into the surroundings instead.
Shaking his head, he turned toward his amber core—and froze. The three soul fragments he'd gathered from the red Zeltrick were gone. Not orbiting, not dormant. Just… gone.
He darted through the space, scanning every inch for a trace of them. Nothing. Only a lingering emptiness, like a song cut off mid-note.
Before he could dwell on it, a deeper dread settled into his gut. Something else was missing.
His eyes flew open like snapped shutters, and he scrambled to his feet, scanning the cell.
"Luna…" he breathed.
She'd vanished the moment the mana barrier fell during the tavern fight, teleporting herself to safety. In the chaos of battle, Riven hadn't spared her a single thought.
"Damn it," he muttered, smacking himself lightly on the forehead.
Dropping back down, he plunged into his soul space again, honing in on the delicate thread of energy stretching from the center of his soul outward—thin as spider silk, fragile as wet paper. But it was still there. Still pulsing.
She's alive.
A long, shaky sigh slipped from his lips as he leaned back against the stone wall, letting its chill anchor him. The pain in his head dulled to a low throb, but it was nothing compared to the relief in his chest.
A few minutes passed as Riven stared at the metal bars standing between him and freedom. Cold and silent, they gleamed faintly in the flickering torchlight, as though mocking his powerlessness. His thoughts wandered, drifting back to the Academy lectures he barely paid attention to at the time—specifically the one on how guardsmen restrained criminal mana users and beast tamers.
They used mana disruptors to disable most abilities and spells, though internal enhancements—like strengthening the body—still slipped through. That's where enchanted materials or naturally magic-resistant resources came in, used to reinforce the walls and cells.
I remember something about revolutionary new chains, he mused. Ones that suck the mana straight out of you, keeping you near empty. But even those stop working properly against higher-ranked tamers.
He snorted faintly. Yeah, once you rank up, even your body gets tougher—so they usually pile on multiple layers of restrictions.
Shaking his head, Riven got to his feet. His muscles ached with the dull pulse of slow healing, but he forced them into motion. He stepped closer to the bars and peered through, expecting a watchful guard lounging outside with a bored expression.
Instead, silence.
The corridor beyond stretched into darkness, eerily still. The only source of light was a single torch mounted at the far end of the tunnel, its flame wavering weakly, casting long shadows that danced across the stone walls.
"Well… here goes nothing."
Drawing a breath, Riven channeled his mana—amber and pink swirling in tandem—letting it flood his limbs. A faint heat prickled along his skin as the power flowed, making his muscles tense and swell with strength.
He grabbed two bars, one in each hand, and pulled. Hard.
Nothing. Not even a creak.
Gritting his teeth, he forced more mana through his veins. It surged like a tide, burning through his arms and chest, pushing his body toward its limit. More than seventy percent of his reserve coursed through him now.
Still nothing.
He exhaled sharply, stepping back. His body ached from the strain—still battered from the earlier clash. No point in tearing something open again.
With a smirk tugging at his lips, he cracked his knuckles. "Alright then, let's try the walls."
He turned, clenched his fists, and struck. Again and again, the dull thuds echoed in the room, vibrating through his bones. But the stone refused to yield. Not a chip. Not even a hairline fracture.
"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered, rubbing his sore knuckles. "What rank are these materials? They didn't even flinch from amber mana."
Still, he wasn't ready to give up. He centered himself and focused on his Blink skill. Eyes narrowing, he reached for the space between, the moment of vanishing—
Nothing.
No pull. No shift. No blur.
Blink is instant, he realized. If it didn't activate immediately…
Mana dampeners.
"Damn it!" he shouted, frustration bubbling over as he kicked the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth.
No reaction.
He dropped his forehead against the cool stone with a sigh, the breath leaking from him like steam.
So what now? Wait around for some miracle rescue? Hope that noble has a change of heart?
A bitter chuckle escaped him at the thought. That noble had watched one of his prized beasts die by Riven's hand. There'd be no forgiveness there.
As if on cue, footsteps echoed through the tunnel, rhythmic and deliberate, bouncing off the stone walls like a slow, mocking drumbeat. Riven squinted into the darkness, straining to make out more than the shifting shadows ahead. A shape moved within the gloom—a shadowy blob at first—until it stepped into the flickering torchlight and revealed itself.
The noble.
Of course.
His face was carved from ice, the usual cold arrogance plastered across his sharp features. But the moment his gaze landed on Riven, that mask cracked, and a new emotion etched itself into his expression—anger. Barely restrained, simmering fury.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" the noble snapped, voice raised but tightly controlled, each word a whip crack as he strode closer to the bars.
Riven's frown deepened. The audacity of the question set his nerves on edge. Irritation welled up inside him, and he spat back, "What was I doing? No—what were you doing? You blew up an entire building!"
The noble's eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the cell seemed to drop a few degrees. His voice dipped into something low and dangerous. "You dare question me, peasant? I will do as I please. Know your place."
His glare could have carved stone. Cold fury radiated from him like a poisoned fog, the sheer pressure of it causing Riven's breath to catch for just a second. He's a full-blown egomaniac, Riven thought. Probably spends more time admiring his reflection than ruling anything.
Still, the noble's presence was suffocating. Each word he spoke carried weight, backed by a deadly confidence that only power—or madness—could provide. It was a miracle Riven was even standing. Probably had his recent promotion to Rank 1 to thank for that.
When Riven didn't respond, the noble continued, pacing now just inches from the bars. "Not going to speak? That's fine. I only need you alive for a few more days—long enough for that brute to come running in a foolish attempt to save you."
He chuckled darkly at that, the sound thick with mockery. "Who would've guessed? The disgraced Roman, taking on a protégé. And not just any brat—but one he's willing to fight to protect."
The noble fell silent, his hand rising to stroke his angular chin as he sank into thought. His eyes narrowed further, lips curling slightly. "No… he would come. Yes, he'd do exactly that. Well, all the more reason to keep you breathing."
With that, he spun on his heel and began walking away, his steps smooth, almost a waltz—too graceful for someone so venomous.
What is this guy's deal with Roman? Riven wondered. Disgraced? Who even is Roman?
He filed that away for later. For now, he was content that the noble had left him in peace—even if it meant rotting in this mana-dampened hellhole.
Will Roman even show up? And can he beat him?
Riven groaned and smacked his forehead against the wall. Hard. The stone was cool and unyielding, a reminder of just how stuck he really was. This entire mess could've been avoided if he'd just run—at any point before the barrier went down.
He slid down to the ground and leaned back against the wall, the chill of it seeping through his shirt. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to his mother.
She must be worried sick.
He hadn't told her anything before setting out for the Hungry Drake. No warning. No message. Just gone.
"Damn it… what have I gone and done?"
His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. Frustration burned inside him, rising like a storm. He glared at the flickering torch down the tunnel, its flame dancing like a distant, mocking promise.
"If I get out of this," he whispered, his voice lower and colder than he thought possible, "I'll make sure that noble pays."
For a moment, his eyes glowed—bright amber cutting through the dim like embers waiting to ignite.