Chapter 26: The Hero’s Path (Part II)

The sun had barely crested the horizon when Riven Caelum was already awake, stretching beside the open window of his dormitory. The soft golden glow of dawn spilled through the curtains, casting gentle rays across the polished wooden floor. Outside, the academy grounds lay silent, still in the grasp of early morning mist. But within Riven's mind, a storm brewed.

He could not sleep last night. Not fully. His body had rested, yes, but his thoughts had not.

Every time he closed his eyes, flashes of Kael Varian's duel with Garron came to mind—the fluidity, the speed, the precision. It had been mesmerizing. Terrifying, even.

How did someone move like that without channeling mana? Without a weapon?

That technique—whatever it was—spoke of years of brutal training and experience. Not just talent.

Riven clenched his fist. "I can't fall behind."

—

The training halls were empty when Riven arrived. Most students didn't begin their day until after sunrise, but he had no intention of wasting time. Drawing his practice sword, he stepped into the mirrored chamber on the east wing—the one reserved for solo refinement.

His reflection stared back at him: golden hair tousled, eyes determined, and mana already beginning to shimmer faintly around his limbs. He focused.

"Light Blade Form—Second Sequence."

He moved.

Sweeping arcs, calculated footwork, overhead strikes followed by sharp pivots and reversals. His mana channeled into his blade, creating thin trails of golden light that lingered for a second before vanishing.

Strike, twist, counter, rebound.

Sweat formed on his brow. Not from physical exhaustion—but from how intensely he focused on perfection. One slip in form meant inefficiency. One imbalance meant vulnerability.

He was the hero, wasn't he?

The story's original main character.

But now it felt like the spotlight wasn't his anymore.

—

Later that morning, classes resumed. The focus today was on elemental harmonics—a topic Riven normally excelled in. With Light Affinity, his mana was among the most stable, and his capacity to attune to celestial ley lines was considered advanced.

But his mind wasn't fully in it.

As Instructor Maelin explained the resonance between high-elemental runes, Riven found his eyes wandering.

A few rows down, Kael sat in his usual place, notebook open, silent as ever.

He didn't speak during lectures. He didn't ask questions. But there was something about him—some weight—that made people sit straighter when he was around.

Riven wasn't sure how he felt about that.

When the class ended, Riven lingered behind.

"Something wrong?" asked Lira.

"No," he replied. "Just thinking."

She tilted her head. "About Kael?"

Riven blinked. "...Maybe."

"He's strong," she said simply. "Strange, but strong."

"That's what worries me."

—

By mid-afternoon, Riven had moved to the enchanted garden behind the east tower. It was a place rarely visited except by a few seniors who needed quiet for advanced spell formations.

Here, the mana flowed more freely—runes inscribed in the stones channeled ambient energy through glowing lines in the earth. Birds sang in the distance. Cherry blossoms drifted on the breeze.

Riven unsheathed his blade and practiced again.

This time, he used more than form.

He infused his strikes with light, shaping the golden mana into slashes of glowing power. Each swing created arcs of brilliance that shimmered in the air before fading.

He tried to remember the principles his father taught him.

"Your sword is not just metal. It is your will made manifest."

"Light is not gentle. Light reveals. Light burns away what hides in shadow."

He struck again. Harder. Sharper.

And then stopped.

A presence behind him.

Turning, he saw another student approaching—tall, with a cloak lined in violet runes and silver trim.

"Riven Caelum," the boy greeted with a nod.

"Verrian," Riven acknowledged.

Verrian Allor, son of the Archmage of Eastern Draven. Top of the class in spell theory and alchemical augmentation. He was not part of the original main cast in the story Kael knew—but Riven remembered him well. A worthy rival.

"You're working harder lately," Verrian noted.

"Trying to stay sharp."

Verrian paused. "Or trying to catch up to Kael Varian?"

Riven lowered his blade slightly. "I don't chase others. I chase myself."

Verrian chuckled. "A noble answer. But you feel it too, don't you? The shift. The way the Academy watches him now."

Riven didn't answer.

"You should duel him," Verrian added. "Settle it. See who truly walks the path of strength."

"I don't fight to prove myself," Riven said. "When the time comes, I'll know."

Verrian nodded once and left.

But the seed had been planted.

—

That night, Riven sat beneath the constellation tree in the astronomy courtyard. The stars above were bright, bathing the campus in a pale silver light.

He closed his eyes, feeling the mana lines pulsing beneath the stone.

He didn't hate Kael.

He didn't envy him.

But Riven Caelum was meant to be the light in this world.

That was what the original story said.

Yet now, a shadow walked beside him—quiet, powerful, and unreadable.

Kael Varian.

A name whispered among instructors. Feared by bullies. Respected by the few who truly saw what he was.

And Riven couldn't ignore that.

He wouldn't try to outshine Kael.

He would burn as bright as he must.

Because light does not compete with shadow.

It stands against it.

And Riven Caelum…

Would rise.