Streets of Red Lotus

As if thinking of something, Riven asked telepathically inside his mind, "By the way, little flame... do you have a name? Or are you just called Voidless Flame?"

The flame girl paused for a moment, clearly annoyed. "Although I am the Voidless Flame, it's not pleasant to be addressed like that all the time. I'm a girl, you know!"

Riven nodded thoughtfully. "Zuzu. How about that? It sounds pleasant."

"Zuzu..!? You're Zuzu! Your whole bloodline is Zuzu!" she snapped, her voice full of indignant fury. She huffed, cursing under her breath, muttering about how Riven clearly had no taste in names.

Just then, while they were bickering mentally, the door creaked open again. Garron entered, bowing respectfully.

"Pardon the interruption, young master. His Highness, your father, wishes to see you."

Riven ignored the furious flame still ranting in his head and replied calmly, "Alright. I'd like to meet him, but I can't walk properly yet."

Garron nodded with a smile. "No need to worry. His Highness will come here in about an hour."

Riven sighed in relief.

Garron hesitated briefly before adding, "Young master, I've prepared a bath for you. You should freshen up before meeting the king."

Riven simply nodded.

With Garron's help, Riven made his way to the bath. The warm water and fragrant herbs helped ease the fatigue from his body. Afterward, dressed in a plain white robe, he returned to his chamber, feeling refreshed. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of amber and dusk.

When he entered, he noticed a middle-aged man seated on a sofa. Dressed in regal robes embroidered with royal insignias, the man radiated a quiet authority. His eyes, sharp and observant, softened when he looked up and saw Riven.

"Riven… my son, are you alright?" he asked calmly.

Riven, wearing a flawless smile that masked his true thoughts, responded, "I'm fine, Father. My body is slowly recovering. It's been a long time since we last spoke."

The man before him was Alaric, the King of Red Lotus Kingdom—and the father of the boy whose body Riven now inhabited.

Alaric stood and walked over to him, gently ruffling Riven's hair as he smiled. "Thank the heavens you've awakened from your coma. You're still weak, so take it easy. I'll have someone bring you elixirs and medicine later."

Notably, he made no mention of the incident from two years ago.

Riven nodded in false gratitude, engaging in light conversation. But eventually, his expression grew more serious.

"Father… I can't cultivate. My Veinroot has been destroyed. Is there any way to recover it?"

Alaric's smile faded. He let out a heavy sigh. "Regrowing a Veinroot… is thought to be impossible. I don't have that ability, nor do I know anyone who does."

He paused, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. Then his voice shifted, becoming more serious. "However, just because it's impossible here, doesn't mean it's impossible everywhere."

Riven's gaze sharpened. "Do you know of a place?"

"Crimson Vale Institute," Alaric said without hesitation. "It's the most powerful legacy in our East Continent. Getting recruited is extremely difficult. Only two people from our kingdom have been admitted in recent years. Even then, they're only Outer Candidates. But it's still a tremendous achievement."

Riven listened intently.

"One of them is your older brother, the First Prince. The other is the eldest daughter of a noble house."

Riven's thoughts turned inward. "So my brother made it in. If I want to recover my power, I need to get into Crimson Vale Institute. No matter the cost."

Just as he was processing that, the Voidless Flame's voice echoed in his mind—teasing, slightly embarrassed.

"Riven... I saw everything during your bath… and that thing between your legs—my god, it's so huge~! What kind of monster reincarnates with that kind of weapon?!"

Riven froze.

"..."

A mix of shame and fury bloomed across his mind, though he kept his expression calm. "This perverted flame…" he cursed inwardly.

Thankfully, Alaric didn't notice his sudden pause. He simply gave Riven a gentle wave.

"Get some rest. It's already evening. We'll speak more tomorrow."

And with that, the king left the room, leaving Riven standing alone in the fading light, already calculating how to break past his mortal shell once more.

Riven sank into the velvet-cushioned chair, exhaustion pressing against his bones like lead. His body was far too weak, but it wasn't just the physical strain. His thoughts of memories of betrayal, whispers of ancient power, and the soft voice of the flame girl—had left him mentally drained.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes. His eyes drifted shut, and he quietly fell asleep.

And within the depths of his consciousness, in that quiet realm between spirit and thought, the flame girl stood watching him. Her form glowed like a gentle sun, flickering with golden embers. Her once-sharp tongue now silenced, she simply watched as Riven lay asleep.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again," she whispered, voice soft as flame-kissed silk. "You're… too precious to lose."

And with that final vow, the glow of her presence dimmed—her flame resting once more in the quiet corners of his soul.

—

Next Morning.

The first light of dawn painted the kingdom in gold and rose. Birds chirped atop the tiled roofs, and merchants rolled open their stalls with practiced ease. Children chased each other through the narrow streets, and the scent of freshly baked bread filled the morning air.

The world was Peaceful.

Sunlight spilled through the windows of the royal manor, falling upon Riven's face. His pale skin shimmered faintly, still drained of color, but beneath the weariness, one could sense the ghost of a man who once made celestial beasts tremble.

He stirred.

"Mmm..." Riven slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the light. He rubbed his face and yawned, stretching his fragile limbs carefully. A soft chuckle left his lips as he realized where he'd slept.

"Guess I dozed off on the sofa…"

Still groggy, he made his way to the washroom. After freshening up, he returned to find breakfast neatly prepared—along with a tray of medicinal elixirs left by his father's servant.

He sat down, eyeing the food. His brows twitched after the first bite.

"This tastes like boiled cardboard…"

With a faint sigh, he forced it down anyway. Healing took priority over flavor.

As he drank a small vial of elixir, he glanced inward—toward the sea of his spirit.

There, in that vast ethereal realm, the flame girl slept. Her luminous body curled up gently, drifting just above the surface of the spiritual ocean. Her hair floated like fire-streaked clouds, her expression soft and almost… innocent.

Riven found himself smiling faintly. "She looks pretty cute when she's asleep," he thought. "Almost cute enough to make me forget all the insults she threw at me yesterday..."

He didn't disturb her. Instead, after finishing his bland breakfast, he changed into a simple black shirt and white pants—formal enough to blend in, plain enough not to attract attention. His white shoes gleamed faintly, but nothing about his outfit screamed "royalty."

He didn't want eyes on him.

That servant had left a pouch of coins beside his meal, a silent gesture from the king, no doubt—so Riven took it and, without informing anyone, slipped quietly out of the palace gates.

Streets of Red Lotus, Vendors shouted prices, smiths hammered metal, and laughter echoed from taverns and tea stalls. Riven walked through the crowded lanes, observing everything. He nibbled on skewered meat, took a sip of bitter-sweet herbal tea, and even watched a street performer make coins dance in the air with spiritual threads.

"So peaceful…" he mused, hands clasped behind his back as he strolled. "Hard to believe I once commanded armies that shattered realms."

His gaze lingered on the simple things: a child giving his last dumpling to a stray dog, an old man selling hand-carved talismans, a mother teaching her daughter how to braid herbs for medicine.

This world didn't know of war or celestial wrath.

This world didn't know him. And maybe… that was a good thing.

But beneath that fleeting peace, a silent determination continued to smolder in his heart.

"I'm not just here to wander. I need to find a way to restore my power. And I won't wait for fate to hand it to me."

He turned into a quiet alley, where strange herbs and relics were being sold by masked traders. His eyes narrowed slightly, scanning each stall.

"Perhaps… someone here knows of a way to mend broken Veinroots. Even whispers could be enough."

Riven approached several vendors, asking about a well-known shop that sold herbs and elixirs. Each time, he received encouraging directions. Thankfully, no one recognized him—the prince's once-proud visage was now masked by weakness and a pale complexion.

After nearly two miles of weaving through bustling streets and changing direction a few times, he finally stood before a grand, five-story building. Bold crimson letters gleamed above the entrance: Red Lotus Herb.

The place buzzed with activity—people streamed in and out, their voices and footsteps filling the air. Without hesitation, Riven pushed open the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.