Varnis looked down at the soldier standing before him.
His gaze moved slowly, deliberately — studying the man as if inspecting a weapon.
His eyes traced the scars across the soldier’s armor, the tension in his posture…and finally settled on his eyes.
They were golden.
A faint smile crept across Varnis’s face.
“Golden eyes…” he murmured.
He swung one leg over his saddle and stepped down from his horse.
When his boots hit the dirt, the ground seemed to feel it.
Up close, his size was overwhelming.
His massive frame was covered in dark, twisting tattoos that crawled across his arms and neck like living shadows.
Muscles strained beneath his armor, thick and brutal, built like a man who had spent his life fighting.
“To think,” Varnis continued calmly, “I missed one when I raided Sulmere.”
Around them the battlefield raged.
Soldiers screamed as steel clashed against steel.
Men rushed past them in both directions, desperate to survive the chaos.
Yet between Riven and Varnis…there was silence.
Varnis climbed down from his steed and began walking toward him.
Slow and unhurried.
Like a predator that already knew its prey couldn’t escape.
Varnis stood like a giant among men, towering over Riven by nearly a full head.
His broad shoulders stretched so wide they seemed capable of blocking the morning sun itself, while layers of hardened muscle rolled beneath weathered skin that looked as though it had been carved from solid granite rather than flesh.
Every movement carried an effortless strength, the kind possessed by someone who had spent a lifetime crushing anyone foolish enough to stand in his path.
His long chestnut-brown hair spilled past his shoulders, swaying lazily in the breeze despite the violence radiating from his presence.
Strands occasionally fell across his face, only adding to the savage appearance of the infamous bandit leader.
His smile was perhaps the most unsettling feature.
It wasn’t the confident grin of a warrior.
It was the grin of a predator.
Several teeth were missing, others chipped and stained from countless years of brutality.
It was a smile that spoke of tavern brawls, executions, and battles fought with no regard for mercy.
The kind of smile that promised suffering before death.
His face was surprisingly free of scars.
Only one remained.
A long, pale scar stretched across the side of his neck, disappearing beneath the collar of his armor like a silent reminder that someone, somewhere, had once come close to killing him.
Judging by the way it narrowly missed his throat, it had been a wound that should have ended his life.
Instead, it had only made him more dangerous.
The rest of his body was almost unnaturally untouched.
It wasn’t because he had never fought.
It was because very few opponents had survived long enough to leave another mark.
Heavy iron armor wrapped around his torso and shoulders, dented from years of battle but still intimidating.
A massive battle axe rested casually over one shoulder as though it weighed nothing more than a walking stick.
The weapon alone looked heavy enough to split a horse in two with a single swing.
Then there was his soul pressure.
The air itself seemed to grow heavier around him.
Birdsong disappeared.
The wind grew still.
Even the forest seemed unwilling to breathe in his presence.
An invisible weight settled over everyone nearby, pressing against their instincts and whispering a single command.
Run.
Varnis didn’t need to shout.
He didn’t need to boast.
His mere presence declared exactly who he was.
A man who had spent decades standing atop mountains of corpses.
A man who believed strength alone decided who lived and who died.
“To think,” he said again, voice almost amused, “I would run into a loose end that needs cleaning.”
Riven stood still.
Normally his expression was unreadable — cold and distant.
But now… anger burned across his face.
His golden eyes glinted with hatred.
His teeth clenched as his fists slowly tightened.
“So you killed my family.”
He stepped forward.
A pulse of energy exploded outward from his body.
The ground beneath his feet trembled as Vyr surged into the air around him.
“Oho… we’ve got ourselves a lively one.”
Varnis’s smile widened slightly as he studied Riven’s defiance.
“Looks like you need a proper introduction to this world.”
He stepped forward.
One step was all it took.
A wave of crushing pressure burst outward from his body as deep blue Vyr erupted around him like a rising storm.
The air itself seemed to bend under its weight.
Soldiers nearby suddenly staggered.
Some dropped to their knees.
Others instinctively backed away, eyes wide with fear.
Varnis continued walking until he stood directly in front of Riven.
Face to face.
Towering over him.
His Vyr poured from his body in violent waves, surging forward to meet Riven’s golden aura.
The two energies collided.
The sky above them flashed with color.
Riven’s golden Vyr blazed upward like fire breaking through darkness, while Varnis’ deep blue energy rolled outward like a crushing ocean tide.
Where the two forces met, the air trembled violently.
Clouds above them twisted as if caught in an unseen storm.
Even the battlefield began to quiet.
Soldiers slowed their fighting.
Eyes turned toward the two figures standing at the center of the chaos.
The clash of their auras lit the dark sky in shifting shades of gold and blue.
Inside Riven’s mind, Raku’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Sire… be careful.”
The warrior spirit’s tone was tense.
“He is at least at the Chaya level. This will not be an easy battle.”
There was a pause.
“You must remain calm and think carefully.”
But Riven barely heard him.
His entire body trembled not from fear but from rage.
Images flashed through his mind of his burning home.
Images flooded his mind without warning.
His burning home, the smell of smoke.,his mother collapsing to the ground and his father’s body falling beside her.
And standing above them—Varnis.
Riven’s emotions surged completely out of control.
His breathing grew heavy.
His golden aura flared violently Varnis watched him carefully.
Then chuckled at the sight of the boy in front of him.
“Ah… there it is.”
His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement.
“That hatred.”
He leaned slightly closer to Riven, lowering his voice just enough that only he could hear.
“I was wondering when you’d show it.”
Riven’s jaw clenched.
Raku’s voice spoke again inside his mind.
“Sire—”
But Riven shook his head sharply.
The warning faded into silence.
He didn’t want caution.
He didn’t want a strategy.
He only wanted one thing and that was Varnis.
Slowly, both men reached for their swords.
Steel slid from its sheath with a sharp metallic whisper.
Vyr flowed along the blades instantly.
Riven’s weapon ignited with blazing golden energy, the aura crawling along the metal like living flame.
Across from him, Varnis’s sword darkened as deep blue energy wrapped around it like a gathering storm.
For a brief moment, the battlefield held its breath.
Then Varnis grinned.
“Come then, boy.”
Varnis lifted his sword slowly, the deep blue Vyr coiling around the blade like a living storm.
He did not wait.
He did not offer Riven the luxury of striking first.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he lunged forward.
His massive body moved with terrifying speed, the sword cutting through the air with a violent whistle as it descended toward Riven’s head.
Riven barely reacted in time.
Steel met steel.
CLANG!
The impact exploded through the air like a thunderclap.
Golden Vyr flared along Riven’s blade as he blocked the strike, but the moment their swords collided a crushing force surged down his arms.
It felt as though a falling mountain had struck him.
“AGH!”
Pain shot through his body as the power behind the blow forced him backward.
His boots scraped violently across the ground, carving deep lines through the dirt as he struggled to stay standing.
His arms trembled beneath the weight of Varnis’s strength.
Varnis smiled.
Not a wide grin.
Just a small, cold curve of amusement.
“You feel it now, don’t you?” he said calmly.
He pulled his sword back and swung again.
Riven barely raised his blade before the next strike crashed down.
CLANG!
The shock ran through his bones.
Another strike followed immediately.
CLANG!
And another.
CLANG!
Varnis attacked relentlessly, his massive sword cutting through the air again and again like a raging storm.
Each swing forced Riven further back across the battlefield.
The ground cracked beneath his heels.
His breathing grew heavier.
Each impact numbed his arms.
“You know,” Varnis said casually between strikes, “it is rather sad.”
Another strike slammed against Riven’s sword, forcing him to one knee.
“That you don’t even know your own lineage.”
Riven gritted his teeth, forcing himself back to his feet as golden Vyr surged around his body.
“What are you talking about?!” he shouted.
Varnis chuckled.
The sound carried a strange mixture of amusement and contempt.
“You truly have no idea.”
He stepped forward again, swinging his sword in a wide arc.
Riven blocked—
—but the force shattered his stance and sent him sliding several more feet across the ground.
Dust rose around him as he struggled to regain his balance.
Varnis walked toward him slowly, his blade resting lazily on his shoulder.
“You think this power of yours appeared from nowhere?” he continued.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Riven’s glowing golden aura.
“That aura… those eyes…”
A faint smirk appeared again.
“You carry the blood of something far older than this pathetic village.”
Riven’s heart pounded violently in his chest.
“What do you mean?”
Varnis didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he suddenly vanished.
Riven’s eyes widened—
The air behind him split with a violent rush.
Riven turned just in time to see the massive blade descending toward his back.
He barely twisted aside.
The sword struck the ground instead.
BOOM.
The earth exploded outward, sending chunks of stone and dirt flying through the battlefield.
Riven staggered away, his heart racing.
Varnis slowly pulled his sword free from the crater he had created.
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said calmly.
His deep blue aura flared once more, pressing down on the battlefield like an approaching storm.
“But sadly…”
He raised his sword again.
“…you won’t live to experience it.”
High above the battlefield, the stone walls of Thunderwood trembled faintly with every distant clash of power.
From the top of the battlements, Vistara gripped the cold stone railing so tightly her knuckles had turned pale.
Below them, the battlefield stretched like a storm-torn sea of steel and dust.
Golden and deep blue light flickered across the darkening sky as Riven and Varnis’s Vyr collided again and again.
Each clash sent ripples of pressure through the air.
Even from the safety of the walls, the force of it made her chest tighten.
Vistara swallowed hard, her eyes locked on the lone figure below.
Riven moved through the battlefield like a flame struggling against a hurricane — stubborn, relentless, refusing to be extinguished.
But Varnis…
Varnis was overwhelming.
Each time their blades met, Riven was forced back further across the shattered ground.
Fear twisted in Vistara’s chest.
The Riven she knew — the man who always carried himself like he could take on the entire world — looked smaller against the towering warlord.
And for the first time since she had met him…
She realized he might actually lose.
“No…”
Her voice trembled.
She turned suddenly and ran across the stone wall toward the elderly spirit watching the battle in silence.
“Aelwyn!”
The old wizard stood near the edge of the battlements, his translucent form flickering faintly in the wind.
His long robes drifted like mist around him as he gazed calmly at the chaos unfolding below.
Vistara grabbed the edge of his sleeve, though her hand passed through the spectral fabric.
“Do something!” she pleaded.
“He needs your help!”
Aelwyn did not move.
His ancient eyes remained fixed on the battlefield, calm and thoughtful as if watching events unfold exactly as they were meant to.
“He needs to overcome this battle himself,” the spirit said quietly.
Vistara stared at him in disbelief.
“What are you talking about?! He’s going to die!”
Aelwyn remained silent for a moment.
Then he spoke again, his voice thoughtful, almost distant.
“From the moment I first saw him… I felt something familiar.”
His gaze followed the glow of Riven’s golden aura as it flared against Varnis’s deep blue storm of Vyr.
“A memory long buried.”
Vistara frowned, her breathing still unsteady.
“What memory?”
Aelwyn’s expression darkened slightly as his thoughts drifted far into the past.
“His eyes.”
He slowly turned his head toward her.
“That golden light.”
The wind swept across the battlements as another distant shockwave rolled across the battlefield below.
“I have seen those eyes before.”
Vistara’s confusion deepened.
“Where?”
Aelwyn looked back toward the battlefield, his gaze fixed on the lone figure still standing against impossible odds.
“That boy,” he said quietly,
“…is the last surviving member of the Yewshade tribe.”
Vistara blinked.
“The Yewshade Tribe?”
Her voice carried both confusion and curiosity.
“I’ve never even heard of them.”
Aelwyn gave a soft, humorless chuckle.
“Few people have.”
His form drifted slightly as if the wind itself carried him.
“Because the world has done an excellent job of forgetting them.”
He rested his hands behind his back as his eyes drifted across the distant horizon.
“Long before the kingdoms of Velora grew into the powers they are today… the forests of Yewshade were home to an ancient people.”
“Not a kingdom,” he continued.
“Not an empire.”
“A tribe.”
“But one that possessed a power the rest of the world both feared and envied.”
Vistara leaned closer despite herself.
“What kind of power?”
Aelwyn’s gaze softened as he spoke the answer.
“They were Soulmancers.”
The word seemed to hang in the air.
“They possessed the rare ability to hear the voices of wandering souls and form bonds with them. Not enslaving them… not commanding them… but partnering with them.”
He paused.
“Each Soulbinder carried the wisdom and strength of countless lives.”
Vistara slowly looked back down toward the battlefield.
Toward Riven.
“Wait… you mean…”
“Yes,” Aelwyn said quietly.
“That ability of his… the spirits that follow him…”
He gestured toward the distant glow of Raku’s blue aura flickering near Riven.
“…that is no accident.”
Vistara’s eyes widened.
“So he’s some kind of ancient spirit master or something?”
Aelwyn shook his head.
“No.”
His voice carried quiet respect.
“He is something far rarer.”
“The last heir of a forgotten lineage.”
Vistara looked back toward the battlefield again.
Riven staggered as another powerful strike from Varnis forced him backward.
Her heart clenched.
“If that’s true… then why aren’t you helping him?!”
“Because if he is truly the last of the Yewshade…”
His voice lowered slightly.
“…then he must awaken that strength himself.”
Another explosion of golden and blue light lit the battlefield below.
Aelwyn watched carefully.
“The soulmancers were never meant to rely on others to save them.”
His eyes narrowed slightly as Riven pushed himself back to his feet.
“They were meant to rise… when the world believed they had already fallen.”
“What made that nation so powerful,” Aelwyn continued quietly, his voice barely carrying above the distant roar of battle, “was their ability to draw strength from the souls bound to them.”
His eyes remained fixed on the battlefield below.
“The spirits do not simply lend their power freely. A Soulbinder must ask for it… and the soul must choose to give it.”
Vistara’s brow furrowed.
“You mean… Riven hasn’t even used his real strength yet?”
Aelwyn slowly shook his head.
“No.”
His voice carried an unsettling calm.
“He has only been borrowing fragments.”
Vistara’s heart tightened as she looked back toward the battlefield.
Below them, the war raged like a storm.
Steel clashed against steel.
Soldiers shouted in fury and pain as the armies of Thunderwood and Varnis collided across the shattered ground.
Flames burned in scattered patches across the battlefield, and the air smelled of blood and smoke.
Yet even in the chaos, one fight drew the attention of everyone present.
Riven and Varnis.
Each time their blades collided, the shockwaves rolled across the battlefield like thunder.
Golden light clashed against deep blue.
The sky itself seemed to pulse with their struggle.
Many soldiers had begun watching the duel in brief glances between their own desperate battles.
Among them, Javon tore his sword free from the chest of a fallen enemy soldier.
The man collapsed at his feet.
Javon wiped the blood from his blade with a quick flick before turning his head toward the distant flashes of golden light.
Riven was forced back again by another devastating strike from Varnis.
Javon shook his head slowly.
“Again…” he muttered under his breath.
“What the hell did he eat in that forest?”
Another soldier rushed toward him.
Javon sidestepped the attack effortlessly before slamming his sword into the man’s side.
But even as the soldier fell, Javon’s eyes drifted back toward the duel.
Because deep down…
Everyone could feel it.
That fight would decide everything.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, Raku moved like a ghost through the chaos.
His glowing blue form flickered between enemies, his blade cutting through armored soldiers with terrifying precision.
Each swing of his sword left trails of light hanging in the air.
A soldier charged him.
Raku’s blade flashed once.
The man fell instantly.
Another followed.
Then another.
Yet even as he fought, something inside Raku stirred uneasily.
A strange pull tugged at his soul.
He turned his head.
Across the battlefield, he saw Riven staggering backward under another crushing strike from Varnis.
The massive warlord moved like an unstoppable force, his blade hammering down again and again.
Riven barely managed to block.
The force of each blow drove him further toward collapse.
Raku’s glowing eyes narrowed.
“Sire…”
The word left him quietly.
Then—
Varnis’s blade cut through Riven’s guard.
A flash of blue steel.
A spray of blood.
Riven’s body jerked as the blade slashed across his chest.
“AGH!”
The sound tore from him as pain exploded through his body.
His sword slipped slightly from his grip as his knees hit the ground.
He dropped to one knee.
Across the battlefield, Raku froze.
A strange ache rippled through his soul.
Something deeper than duty.
Something far more personal.
Riven’s breathing came in ragged bursts.
Each inhale burned like fire in his lungs.
The cut across his chest throbbed violently as blood soaked through his clothes.
His vision blurred for a moment.
A crushing pressure filled his chest — not just from pain…
But from something else.
Something heavy.
Fear.
Footsteps approached slowly.
Deliberately.
Riven forced his head up.
Varnis stood before him.
The towering warlord rested his massive blade casually against his shoulder, his deep blue aura swirling around him like a storm barely contained.
He studied the kneeling boy with quiet amusement.
“You know…” Varnis said slowly.
“I will let you in on a little secret.”
He stepped closer.
His shadow fell across Riven’s kneeling form.
“You are the reason the people of Sulmere were killed.”
Riven’s eyes widened.
The words struck harder than any blade.
“What…?”
His voice came out weak and breathless.
Varnis stepped behind him.
The massive blade lifted slowly.
Cold steel pressed against the back of Riven’s neck.
“You heard me.”
His voice was calm.
Almost casual.
“If it weren’t for you…”
The blade pressed slightly deeper.
“…that village would still be standing.”
Riven’s heart pounded violently.
“No…”
Varnis chuckled quietly.
“You really are clueless.”
He leaned closer, his voice lowering to a whisper meant only for Riven.
“You see, boy… we weren’t looking for your village.”
Riven’s breath caught.
“We were looking for you.”
The battlefield noise faded from Riven’s ears.
Everything felt distant.
Unreal.
“You…” he whispered.
“You’re lying.”
Varnis’s smile widened slightly.
“Am I?”
He tilted his head.
“Tell me something… did your so-called parents ever explain why your eyes were golden and theirs weren’t?”
Riven’s mind spun.
His father…
His mother…
Varnis’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“You see. You carry a very interesting bloodline, boy.”
The blade pressed harder against his neck.
“And powerful people do not want you alive.”
Riven’s hands trembled against the ground.
His chest tightened painfully.
“We searched for years to find you. And when we did…”
Varnis shrugged slightly.
“We did what soldiers do.”
The words fell like stones.
Riven’s heart felt like it had stopped beating.
Around them, the battle continued.
But for Riven…
The world had gone completely silent.
Has my life been a lie?
The thought echoed inside Riven’s mind like a broken bell.
His breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps as he knelt on the shattered ground.
Blood dripped slowly from the wound across his chest, staining the dirt beneath him.
Who… am I?
The question clawed at his thoughts, growing louder with every passing second.
Everything he believed about himself felt as though it had shattered in an instant.
His home.
His parents.
The quiet life he had once known in Sulmere.
Were they simply… hiding the truth from him?
Or had they died protecting a secret he had never been meant to learn?
The weight of it crushed his chest far worse than the wound bleeding beneath his ribs.
Across from him, Varnis watched the boy’s silence with a faint smile.
“Now, now,” the warlord said casually, rolling his shoulders as if the battle had been little more than a warm-up.
“Don’t think too much.”
His deep blue aura pulsed slowly around him, heavy and suffocating like the pressure of a coming storm.
“It will only make the end harder.”
He lifted his sword high above his head.
The blade shimmered with violent Vyr.
“Your life ends here.”
Riven did not move.
His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered quietly against the ground.
His shoulders sagged.
His head lowered.
The fire that had burned in his golden eyes moments ago had faded into something hollow.
Defeat.
He slowly sank backward until his body lay against the broken earth.
Motionless.
Above the battlefield, Vistara felt her stomach drop.
“No…!”
Her voice trembled as she gripped the stone railing of the battlements.
“Riven!”
But the distance between them swallowed her cry.
Below, Varnis’s sword began its descent.
The blade cut through the air with terrifying speed.
Too fast.
Far too fast for a wounded, exhausted boy to escape.
The entire battlefield seemed to pause.
Soldiers stopped mid-swing.
Javon turned sharply toward the falling blade.
Raku felt something in his chest snap.
Time seemed to slow.
The massive sword fell toward Riven’s throat—
Then—
Silence.
For a heartbeat, the battlefield held its breath.
Then a sharp groan cut through the quiet.
Varnis staggered slightly.
His sword halted inches above Riven’s body.
Riven blinked slowly, confusion clouding his vision.
He lifted his head.
Standing between him and the descending blade…
Was Raku.
The glowing spirit soldier stood tall, his translucent blue form flickering like a flame in the wind.
His blade was buried deep into Varnis’s shoulder.
Blue energy crackled around the wound.
Varnis’s face twisted slightly as his hand grabbed the spirit’s arm.
“So…” the warlord muttered through clenched teeth.
“One of your ghosts decided to grow bold.”
Raku said nothing.
His glowing eyes remained fixed on Riven.
“Sire…”
His voice echoed gently inside Riven’s mind.
“You must rise.”
Riven stared at him in shock.
“Raku…?”
The spirit’s form flickered as the strain of holding back Varnis’s massive blade rippled through him.
“You must use my power.”
Riven’s eyes widened.
“No!”
He pushed himself up slightly, panic filling his voice.
“Raku, you need to leave!”
His hands trembled as he tried to stand.
“He’ll destroy you!”
Varnis chuckled darkly behind them.
“He’s right, spirit.”
The warlord’s grip tightened around Raku’s shoulder as he slowly forced the glowing blade deeper into his own flesh just to prove a point.
“You cannot stop me.”
Raku ignored him completely.
His gaze remained locked on Riven.
“For centuries I wandered without purpose.”
His voice was calm.
Resolute.
“Until the day I found you.”
The battlefield around them seemed to fade away as the spirit spoke.
“You gave this lost soul a reason to fight again.”
His glowing hand extended toward Riven.
“So please…”
His voice softened.
“…do not throw your life away here.”
Riven’s chest tightened.
His vision blurred.
The weight of everything — his parents, Sulmere, the truth about Yewshade — crashed down on him all at once.
But through the chaos in his mind…
One thing remained clear.
Raku had chosen him.
And now…
Raku was willing to die for him.
The spirit’s hand remained extended.
“Sire…”
His voice echoed once more.
“Ask for my strength.”
The battlefield blurred around him.
Riven’s breathing was ragged, each breath scraping painfully through his chest as he struggled to stay conscious.
Blood soaked through his torn clothes, dripping steadily onto the broken earth beneath him.
But slowly… the chaos around him began to fade.
The clash of steel.
The screams of soldiers.
Even the oppressive presence of Varnis.
All of it seemed distant, like echoes carried on the wind.
Instead, something else stirred deep within him.
A quiet voice.
Not spoken aloud.
But felt.
It pulsed gently within his chest like a heartbeat that did not belong to him alone.
Riven’s thoughts, once scattered with fear and anger, began to settle.
The weight pressing down on his mind lifted little by little.
Then he understood.
This power…
It had never been something he could simply take.
It was something he had to ask for.
Riven lifted his head slowly, his golden eyes searching for the glowing spirit standing before him.
Raku still stood between him and Varnis, his spectral body flickering faintly as he struggled to hold the massive warlord back.
The spirit soldier turned his head slightly.
Their eyes met.
Riven’s voice came quietly at first.
“Raku…”
The name carried a mixture of exhaustion, trust, and realization.
Then he spoke again, louder this time.
“Give me your strength.”
For a brief moment, Raku said nothing.
Then the spirit smiled.
It was not the smile of a warrior eager for battle.
It was the smile of a soldier who had finally found a purpose worth fighting for.
“Yes, sire.”
His body began to glow.
The blue light surrounding him intensified, growing brighter and brighter until his entire form dissolved into pure energy.
In the next instant—
Raku collapsed into a brilliant sphere of radiant blue light.
It struck Riven’s chest.
And vanished inside him.
For a single heartbeat—
Everything stopped.
Then power erupted.
Riven’s golden aura exploded outward in a violent surge, blasting dust and shattered stone away from his body in every direction.
The ground beneath him cracked as waves of energy rippled across the battlefield.
Soldiers on both sides staggered under the sudden pressure.
The air itself seemed to tremble.
The wound across Riven’s chest began to glow faintly.
Golden light spread across the torn flesh like flowing fire.
Slowly…
The injury closed.
The blood dried.
The torn skin sealed itself as if time had reversed.
Riven rose to his feet.
His golden aura now burned brighter than ever before, threaded with streaks of deep blue energy — the mark of the soul now bound to him.
His eyes opened.
They shone like twin stars.
Across from him, Varnis clicked his tongue in irritation.
“Damn it…”
The massive warlord tightened his grip on his sword, deep blue Vyr swirling violently around the blade as he prepared himself.
Above the battlefield, standing atop the walls of Thunderwood, Aelwyn watched the transformation unfold.
The old wizard stroked his long beard thoughtfully.
“There you go, child.”
His voice carried quiet satisfaction.
“The first step of a Soulbinder.”
Below, Riven bent slightly and picked up his fallen sword.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt—
He moved.
The ground shattered beneath his feet as he dashed forward with explosive speed.
Golden and blue energy streamed behind him like a blazing comet.
But as he ran…
Memories flooded his mind.
His mother laughing softly as she taught him from the history book.
His father clapping a hand on his shoulder after a training session.
The warmth of their small home.
The nights spent celebrating birthdays around a candlelit table.
The times they stayed by his bedside when he was sick.
The quiet moments that once seemed ordinary…
But now meant everything.
His chest tightened.
I will not let those memories fade.
His speed increased.
His resolve hardened.
When he reached Varnis—
His sword flashed.
CLANG!
The strike hit with overwhelming force.
Varnis barely blocked in time.
Riven attacked again.
And again.
And again.
His blade moved faster than before, each strike sharper and more precise than the last.
The golden-blue aura swirling around him surged with every movement, amplifying his strength.
Varnis was forced back.
His boots scraped against the ground as he struggled to match the sudden change in speed.
“You think,” the warlord growled as he blocked another powerful strike,
“That gaining access to your power suddenly changes anything?”
Riven didn’t answer.
His attacks continued, relentless and controlled.
Varnis was now the one struggling.
The warlord’s expression darkened.
“Enough!”
His aura exploded outward violently.
Blue energy surged through his body as he leapt backward, putting distance between them.
Then he raised his sword high into the air.
All of his power began pouring into the blade.
The weapon screamed as the Vyr compressed around it.
The air warped.
The ground cracked beneath him.
“This ends now!”
With a furious roar, Varnis swung the blade.
A massive arc of destructive energy tore through the air, splitting the battlefield as it rushed toward Riven like a tidal wave.
But just before the attack struck—
Riven vanished.
The destructive wave carved a deep canyon through the battlefield, ripping apart everything in its path.
Varnis’s eyes widened.
“What—”
A voice spoke quietly behind him.
“You’re too slow.”
Varnis turned—
Too late.
Riven stood behind him.
His sword plunged forward.
The blade pierced deep into Varnis’s back.
Golden-blue Vyr erupted through the wound as Riven unleashed the full force of his power.
The energy surged violently through Varnis’s body, tearing through him from the inside.
For a single moment…
The warlord’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Then the power exploded outward.
A blinding flash of golden light filled the battlefield.
And Varnis’s body split cleanly in two.
The warlord collapsed.
His overwhelming aura faded like smoke carried away by the wind.
Silence fell across the battlefield.
Riven stood there, breathing heavily, his sword still glowing faintly with the remnants of the power he had unleashed.
The first true Soulbinder had returned.
For several long seconds, the battlefield remained completely silent.
The wind moved softly across the broken ground, carrying the faint smell of smoke and iron.
Bodies of fallen soldiers lay scattered across the battlefield, and shattered weapons glimmered faintly beneath the fading evening light.
At the center of it all stood Riven.
His chest rose and fell slowly as he tried to steady his breathing.
The golden-blue aura surrounding his body flickered like a dying flame, still radiating the immense power he had unleashed moments ago.
Across the battlefield, soldiers from both armies stared at him.
Some with awe.
Some with fear.
Others with disbelief.
The massive body of Varnis lay behind him, split in two, the warlord’s once terrifying presence now completely gone.
Riven slowly lifted his head.
His glowing eyes swept across the battlefield.
The enemy soldiers had stopped fighting.
They were watching him now.
Watching the man who had just defeated the monster that had led their army.
Riven tightened his grip on his sword.
With a final surge of strength, he raised the blade high into the air.
Golden and blue Vyr surged along its edge, lighting the battlefield like a torch in the dark.
Then he shouted.
A raw, victorious cry that tore from deep within his chest.
“AHHHHH!”
The sound echoed across Thunderwood’s walls and rolled through the battlefield like thunder.
For a brief moment there was silence.
Then—
The warriors of Thunderwood erupted.
A thunderous roar answered him as soldiers raised their weapons into the air.
Cheers filled the battlefield.
The sound of victory spread like wildfire among the surviving fighters.
Some slammed their swords against their shields.
Others shouted Riven’s name.
Across the battlefield, the enemy soldiers exchanged nervous glances.
Their leader was dead.
Their army was broken.
One by one, they began throwing their weapons to the ground.
Some dropped to their knees in surrender.
Others turned and fled into the distant forest, abandoning the battlefield entirely.
The war was over.
But at the center of the cheering soldiers…
Riven’s strength was finally fading.
His raised arm trembled.
The sword slowly lowered.
The golden-blue aura flickered weakly around him.
Javon pushed through the crowd of cheering warriors, his eyes locked on Riven.
He stopped beside him, breathing heavily from the fight.
“Are you alright?” he asked quickly, placing a hand on Riven’s shoulder.
“You fought like hell out there.”
For a moment, Riven remained standing.
His glowing eyes blinked slowly.
The cheers around him sounded distant now.
His body suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
Every wound.
Every bruise.
Every ounce of exhaustion he had ignored during the battle crashed down on him at once.
He turned his head slightly toward Javon.
His mouth opened as if to respond.
But no words came.
Instead—
His legs gave out beneath him.
Riven collapsed forward.
Javon barely caught him before he hit the ground.
“Hey!”
He grabbed Riven by the shoulders, panic rising instantly in his voice.
“Hey! Stay with me!”
Riven’s head lolled slightly as his breathing grew shallow.
Javon looked around frantically.
“Medic!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
“HEY! MEDIC!”
Across the battlefield, two figures broke into a sprint.
Syanna and Vistara rushed forward, pushing past soldiers as they ran as fast as they could toward Riven.
Vistara’s heart pounded violently in her chest.
“Move! Move!”
The soldiers quickly parted for them.
Above the battlefield, atop the walls of Thunderwood, Aelwyn watched quietly.
The old spirit studied Riven’s unconscious body for a moment.
Then he nodded to himself.
“Your journey has only just begun, child.”
His translucent form flickered faintly.
With Riven unconscious, the spiritual connection sustaining his presence began to fade.
Slowly, the ancient wizard dissolved into drifting blue particles.
And vanished.
Below, the golden-blue aura surrounding Riven began to fade as well.
The brilliant energy that had once blazed around him slowly dimmed until only faint flickers remained.
Now he looked less like a warrior of legend…
And more like a young man barely clinging to consciousness.
Syanna slid to her knees beside him.
Her hands immediately began checking his wounds with practiced speed.
She pulled back the torn fabric across his chest.
Her expression darkened instantly.
“This is bad.”
Javon’s stomach dropped.
“How bad?”
Syanna looked up at him.
“His body is completely wrecked.”
She pressed her hand against the barely healed wound on his chest.
“He pushed himself far beyond his limits.”
Vistara knelt beside them, her hands trembling slightly as she looked at Riven’s pale face.
“He’s breathing…” she said quietly.
“But barely.”
Syanna nodded.
“We need to move him now.”
She looked toward the distant line of medical tents near the walls of Thunderwood.
“If we don’t stabilize him soon…”
She didn’t finish the sentence.
She didn’t need to.
Javon called a fellow soldier for help and they carefully lifted Riven into their arms.
Victory had been won.
But the cost of that victory now lay unconscious in Javon’s arms.
And no one knew if he would wake up.
Without wasting another moment, they hurried toward the medical tents.
Inside the largest tent, lanterns flickered against the canvas walls as medics rushed between wounded soldiers.
Riven was quickly laid upon an empty cot.
Syanna immediately began preparing to treat him while Vistara remained close by his side.
Moments later, another figure entered the tent.
Vistara’s father.
The commander stepped forward slowly, his armor still marked with dust from the battle.
He looked down at the young warrior lying motionless before him.
For a moment he said nothing.
Then he let out a quiet breath.
“He fought valiantly.”
His voice carried deep respect.
“I don’t believe I have ever witnessed a battle like that in my life.”
He placed a comforting hand on Vistara’s shoulder.
“We are forever in his debt.”
Tears slowly slid down Vistara’s face as she nodded silently.
Her eyes never left Riven.
But far away from the medical tent…
Far away from the battlefield…
Riven stood somewhere else entirely.
When his eyes opened, he found himself standing in the middle of a vast golden wheat field.
Warm sunlight bathed the land, and a gentle breeze caused the tall wheat to sway like waves across the earth.
Riven slowly turned in place.
His heart skipped.
He recognized this place instantly.
It looked exactly like the fields near his childhood home in Soulmere.
The same golden crops.
The same endless horizon.
Footsteps rustled softly through the wheat behind him.
Riven turned.
Two figures were walking toward him.
At first his mind refused to accept what he was seeing.
Then his breath caught in his throat.
“Mom…”
“Dad…”
Tears filled his eyes.
Oliver and Maelina approached him exactly as he remembered them.
His father’s strong frame.
His mother’s gentle smile.
Alive.
Riven’s voice trembled.
“I… I avenged you.”
Before he even realized he was moving, he ran forward.
He threw his arms around them.
His parents embraced him tightly.
Riven had felt warmth again.
He felt peace.
Maelina gently held the back of his head as he cried against her shoulder.
Oliver rested a steady hand on his son’s back.
“We know,” his father said softly.
“And we are proud of you.”
Riven slowly pulled back, wiping his eyes.
“I killed the man who destroyed everything.”
Oliver’s expression grew serious.
“We are grateful, son.”
He placed both hands on Riven’s shoulders.
“But now…”
His voice lowered.
“It is time we tell you the truth.”
Riven blinked in confusion.
“The truth?”
Oliver nodded.
“Yes.”
“The truth about your origins.”
Before Riven could speak again, Maelina gently gestured toward a wooden bench resting beneath a lone tree at the edge of the wheat field.
“Let us sit,” she said softly.
“There is much we must tell you.”
Together, the three of them walked toward the bench as the wheat swayed softly around them.
Riven was soon about to learn who he truly was.