Trial by Fire

The alarms screamed across the base. The ground trembled with every explosion, and the acrid scent of smoke filled the air. Shadows flickered against the steel walls as soldiers scrambled to their positions. The Organization's stronghold was under attack.

Riven flexed his wrists as the last of his shackles fell to the floor with a dull clang. His body was free, but the guards standing around him didn't lower their weapons. Suspicion lingered in their eyes, their fingers twitching over their triggers. They had seen what he could do. They had seen his shadow move when he had not commanded it.

Commander Veydris smirked, standing just a few feet away. "Well then, Shadowborn," he said, voice laced with amusement. "Here's your chance to prove yourself. Or die. Either way, we find our answer."

Riven met his gaze but said nothing. He knew what this was—a test. The Organization didn't trust him. They didn't know if he was an ally, a monster, or a time bomb waiting to detonate. And if he faltered here, they'd make their decision for him.

Another explosion rocked the compound, and the steel doors to the chamber burst open. A soldier, bloodied and breathing hard, stumbled in. "They've breached the eastern perimeter," he reported. "It's them—the Requiem Blades."

Veydris clicked his tongue. "Oh? Interesting." He turned to Riven and gestured toward the door. "Show us what you can do."

Riven stepped forward, the tension in the air crackling like a storm about to break. The moment he walked past the guards, he felt them shift behind him, following his every move. Even unshackled, he was still a prisoner in their eyes.

But that wouldn't last for long.

Stepping out onto the open battlefield, Riven took in the chaos. The Requiem Blades were an elite faction of rogue warriors, mercenaries who thrived in destruction. Their forces swarmed the compound, cutting down Organization soldiers with ruthless efficiency.

In the center of it all stood Lucien Graves, the infamous leader of the Requiem Blades. He was a towering figure clad in dark armor, spectral chains writhing around him like living serpents. His power was legendary—those chains drained the strength of his enemies, rendering them helpless before the killing blow.

Riven clenched his fists. He had heard the rumors about Lucien. How he hunted warriors with unique abilities. How he delighted in breaking them.

And now, his golden eyes locked onto Riven.

"There you are," Lucien murmured, a smirk playing on his lips. "I was hoping to find something… interesting tonight."

The chains lashed out before Riven could react. They wrapped around his throat, his wrists, his legs—pulling him forward with unnatural force. He gasped as cold energy seeped into his body, sapping his strength. It was like something was clawing into his soul, prying into places it didn't belong.

"I know what you are," Lucien whispered, tightening the chains. "I've hunted your kind before."

Riven's vision darkened. His shadow trembled beneath him, flickering erratically. He gritted his teeth, trying to will his power under control, but the more he resisted, the more it clawed to break free.

Then something inside him snapped.

His body vanished into the shadows.

Lucien's chains pulled taut—but there was nothing there.

A heartbeat later, Riven reappeared behind him, his blade slicing through the air. The chains severed like fragile thread. Lucien staggered forward, caught off guard. For the first time, the hunter looked afraid.

But Riven wasn't done.

The shadows surged from beneath him, rising like a living army. Tendrils lashed out, wrapping around Lucien's limbs, tightening, constricting. The battlefield grew darker as if the very night had descended upon them.

Lucien struggled, his chains flaring in defiance, but Riven stepped closer, voice a whisper of controlled rage. "You made a mistake."

Lucien's eyes widened. "What—"

Riven clenched his fist. The shadows devoured him.

The battlefield fell silent.

The Requiem Blades, who had once fought with such confidence, hesitated. Their leader was gone, swallowed by something beyond their comprehension. Murmurs spread like wildfire. Some ran. Others stood frozen, unwilling to face whatever Riven had become.

The Organization's forces pushed forward, cutting through the retreating enemies. But they weren't cheering. They weren't celebrating.

They were watching Riven.

He stood amidst the wreckage, his body wreathed in shifting shadows. His squad—his supposed allies—stared at him with mixed expressions. Fear. Awe. Distrust.

Veydris stepped forward, slow and deliberate. He appraised Riven like one might observe a caged beast, calculating its worth.

"Well," the commander murmured, crossing his arms. "That was quite the display."

Riven didn't reply. His body still thrummed with power, the echoes of his shadows whispering in his mind.

Veydris tilted his head. "You do realize what this means, don't you?"

Riven exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. He did. There was no hiding anymore. The Organization knew he was something beyond human. They had seen his power. And now…

They would never let him go.

Veydris's smirk widened. "Welcome to the real war, Shadowborn."