Chapter 11 - Crysthalis Awakens

As if driven by pure instinct, Riven's body flung itself backward.

WUSHH!

The blade sliced through the space just in front of his face, so close he could feel the cold gust graze his cheek. His breath hitched. In the next second, he was already several meters away, chest heaving, eyes wide.

Cold sweat clung to his temples and back. That one exchange was all it took for him to understand. If he stayed in close range, he'd die.

How did he know I was going to strike from that direction?

The question echoed sharply through his mind.

Did the man possess some kind of sixth sense? Could he sense aura, hear breathing, or read the movement of air itself? Riven didn't know. He only knew one thing:

He was facing something far beyond him.

"I let you live earlier…" the man growled, his voice ragged with fury, "and now you choose to stand in my way?"

Riven didn't answer right away. His eyes remained locked on his opponent, watching for the slightest movement, the tiniest opening. Then, slowly, he parted his lips and replied in a flat tone.

"Do you regret letting me live?"

A guttural snarl followed.

The man gritted his teeth. His eyes, once sharp and calculating, now burned with bloodlust and ruin. "I made a mistake. I should've killed you the moment I saw you."

Riven began to move, one step at a time, circling slowly. He kept his distance, body low, steps careful. Like a young wolf testing the perimeter of a wounded bear.

But he knew… even in this weakened state, a single mistake could end him.

The man's body swayed. His breath was heavy and uneven. The light in his eyes was dimming. And yet, like a dying flame clinging to the wick, he burned—fueled by anger and something dangerously close to madness.

Suddenly, he raised his sword.

"Don't interfere with my mission…!" he roared.

He swung his blade into empty air.

ZRAAAK!

The wind split apart. A long, deep fissure tore through the ground. A pressure wave exploded outward.

Riven leapt sideways, nearly thrown off balance by the sudden force. When he looked back, his eyes widened. A tree had been cleaved vertically from root to crown, split in two as if by an invisible god's blade.

What the hell was that…?

But he had no time to think. The man was already swinging again—left, then right, then a sharp diagonal.

WUSHH! WUSHH! WUSHH!

Invisible blades of wind tore through the night.

Riven ran, weaving around the attacks, staying on the move. The man turned with him, tracking his every step with eerie precision, despite the fact that his body looked ready to collapse at any moment.

"DON'T BLOCK MY PATH!" the man bellowed, his voice cracking with rage and exhaustion.

"I WON'T LET THEIR DEATHS BE FOR NOTHING!"

Riven gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on his sword. One misstep, and it would be over. The last shockwave had already grazed his shoulder, nearly knocking him flat. But above the howling wind, he caught the man's words.

Them.

His comrades.

Was this man the last one left?

"The woman…" the man shouted again. "She's not human! She is… THE REINCARNATION OF RUIN!"

The words left his throat like a curse scraped from the depths of hell. Every syllable pulsed with hatred and certainty.

And Riven saw it.

The man was faltering.

His steps dragged. His vision blurred. Even standing seemed like a struggle, as if he were a withered tree waiting for the final breeze to bring him down.

He was dying.

Riven could feel it. If he could endure just a little longer, he might actually win.

But like a wounded beast with its claws still bared, the man remained dangerous. As long as he breathed, the threat wasn't over.

"She's a madwoman… a monster who revels in suffering! If she lives… this world ends! She has to die, SHE HAS TO DIE!"

Riven held his breath. His eyes dropped to his sword, now glowing faintly—not from fire, but something else. Energy. A pale golden light was beginning to shimmer along the blade. Cold, soft, almost like a whisper.

A whisper that told him not to be afraid.

He glanced briefly toward the house in the distance. Behind those fragile wooden walls, Mira and that woman were waiting.

And if the man was right… if she truly was the incarnation of destruction.

Then why did she look like a victim?

Why was she covered in wounds?

Why did she seem more like someone who had been tortured… and thrown away?

There was no time left for doubt.

The final swing came.

SRAAK!

The gust roared toward him, larger than the ones before.

The man could no longer see clearly. His vision was gone.

But his strike was still deadly.

The blast was invisible, but Riven felt it.

CRAAK!

He raised his sword.

The pale golden light, once faint, flared to life.

The sword pulsed.

It responded.

Light burst from the blade, flooding the air with a chilling brilliance. And in that moment, a voice, faint and wordless, echoed in his mind.

"Crysthalis."

It was a name he'd never heard.

But he knew, without question, that it was the name of the sword.

And with that name came something else. A flow of knowledge, a sudden connection, like pieces clicking into place.

The blast of wind struck the sword's light—

—and vanished.

Like rain dissolving into flame.

There was no pain.

Riven remained standing.

Alive.

And then, as if guided by instinct, his arms moved. He swung Crysthalis forward.

SWAAAKK!

A wave of force burst from the blade. Invisible, but sharp like the judgment of something divine.

The slash hit.

The man's left arm flew off.

Blood gushed from the wound. The man stared in blank disbelief.

But Riven didn't stop.

He charged.

Only a few steps separated them now. The man tried to move, but his body refused. He wanted to scream, but breath wouldn't come.

Crysthalis plunged forward.

Straight through his chest.

Straight into his heart.

SRRRKKK.

Riven pushed the blade in to the hilt. Their eyes met.

No words were spoken.

Only death lingered between them.

The man's body slumped.

But before it hit the ground.

He smiled.

A hateful, broken smile.

His cracked lips moved. And in a whisper, barely audible, he said:

"…I hope… you're ready for what comes next…"

Riven froze.

And a moment later.

The man collapsed.

And the night went still.

The wind returned, quiet as before.

Riven stood unmoving. Crysthalis remained in his hand, soaked in blood. His chest rose and fell, but deep down, he knew—

The battle was over.

Or perhaps…

It had only just begun.