KRAVEN_x

In a world where the strong reign and the weak are left behind, Riven is nothing more than an afterthought—a boy overshadowed by his powerful allies, mocked for his insignificance. Yet, beneath his seemingly ordinary exterior lies a strength he dares not unleash.

When a devastating battle sends him plummeting into a forbidden land where no one survives, his allies mourn his death, believing their weakest link is gone forever. But Riven’s fall is only the beginning. Rescued by a mysterious figure, he endures a year of relentless training, forced to confront the truth about himself, his power, and the unseen forces shaping his destiny.

Now, when his friends stand on the brink of destruction, Riven returns—not as the weakling they once knew, but as a force beyond their comprehension. The world will soon learn that the boy they overlooked is the one who will burn through the shadows and reshape their fate.

But will his newfound strength be enough to stand against the unseen forces pulling the strings from the dark?

The battle for survival has begun. And in the end, only ashes will remain.

"Ashes of the Unseen."

Beneath the shining skyline of Virestia, beyond the bustling markets and grand halls, lay a different world—one that thrived in the dark. The underground wasn't a place for the weak. It was where debts were paid in blood, where power was measured in weapons, and where survival belonged to those who knew when to strike and when to disappear.

Riven Thorne knew how to disappear.

He moved through the narrow alleys, his hood pulled low, avoiding the flickering neon signs that barely lit the streets. The smell of oil, rust, and damp concrete filled the air. Voices drifted from shadowed corners—whispers of stolen goods, vendettas, and deals that would never make it to the surface world.

He had no business with any of it.

At least, that's what he told himself.

From above, a pair of sharp eyes watched him.

Orin stood atop a rusted metal walkway, arms crossed, studying the lone figure below. He had seen this kid before—always lingering in the background, always watching but never acting. Too silent. Too careful.

"Who the hell are you really, kid?" Orin muttered under his breath.

"You trying to cheat us, you bastard?!"

Further down the alley, two groups faced off. One side—mercenaries in high-tech armor, their weapons humming with energy. The other—augmented fighters with glowing veins and cybernetic fists. The kind of men who settled disputes with bullets and blades.

Riven exhaled softly. Not my problem.

A plasma bolt seared through the air, followed by the unmistakable clash of steel against reinforced bone. The mercenaries opened fire, their blasts lighting up the darkened alley, while the cybernetic brawlers charged in, fists shattering walls and skulls alike. Someone screamed. Someone fell. Blood hit the pavement.

Riven stood still. He didn't flinch, didn't move.

Then, a stray plasma shot veered toward him.

In an instant—so quick it was barely noticeable—he shifted, just enough for the shot to miss him by an inch. The next moment, a body hurtled toward him, flung by the sheer force of a cybernetically enhanced punch. Without even looking, he stepped to the side at the exact moment it would have hit him. The man crashed onto the ground where Riven had been standing, groaning in pain.

The fight raged on, but no one paid attention to him.

The older man's smirk deepened as he leaned forward, eyes gleaming with curiosity. That wasn't luck. That wasn't coincidence. That was instinct—precise, practiced. Too refined for a kid who was supposed to be a nobody.

Down below, Riven disappeared into the shadows, his presence fading as if he had never been there at all.

"Shadows of the Underground"