Chapter 53 Encounter

Chapter 53: Chapter 53 Encounter

"It is impossible for a man to learn what he thinks he already knows." — Epictetus

The midnight air howled through the jagged stone corridors of the old monolith ruins.

Riven walked cautiously through the darkness, his boots barely making a sound against the uneven floor. The ruins stood several miles north of the settlement, far beyond the usual hunting grounds of most low ranking adventurers. Their crumbling walls and collapsed archways had once belonged to an ancient civilization, but now they served as little more than a nesting ground for monsters.

It was the perfect place for an F Rank adventurer to earn some money.

At least, that was what Riven had thought when he accepted the contract.

His objective was simple: clear out a nest of minor shadow touched ghouls that had been spotted wandering near the ruins. They were weak creatures, barely more dangerous than ordinary ghouls, and the Guild had classified the job as suitable for a solo adventurer.

The reward wasn’t particularly impressive, but Riven didn’t mind.

He needed the money, and more importantly, he needed the experience.

His black cloak shifted as he moved deeper into the ruins. Beneath it, his reinforced leather armor covered his torso, while his short sword rested securely at his hip.

The obsidian half mask covering his lower face remained perfectly still.

It had become a permanent part of him.

Riven had long since stopped trying to remove it. After his visit to Vesper, he understood that attempting to tear it from his face could damage his jaw, his mana channels, or even his core.

He had no intention of risking that.

Besides, the mask had its uses.

His vision was perfectly clear despite the darkness. Every crack in the stone, every loose piece of rubble, and every narrow passage stood out as though the ruins were illuminated by daylight.

More importantly, he could sense movement around him.

His spatial awareness wasn’t perfect, but it was considerably better than it had been before the mask fused with his body.

A faint pulse of mana passed through his core.

Riven raised his hand.

A thin veil of shadow spread across his sword.

Shadow Veil.

He had spent months practicing the technique. What had once required intense concentration now came naturally, and he could maintain it without exhausting himself immediately.

Riven examined it briefly.

Then he dismissed the spell.

There was no reason to waste mana before he encountered anything dangerous.

He continued down the corridor.

The deeper he went, the colder the air became.

Old stone pillars lined the walls, their surfaces covered in faded carvings. Most had been damaged beyond recognition, but a few still displayed strange symbols resembling twisting branches or spiraling circles.

Riven didn’t recognize any of them.

He wasn’t particularly interested in ancient history anyway.

He was here for the bounty.

A faint scratching sound came from somewhere ahead.

Riven stopped.

His hand moved toward the hilt of his sword.

Another scratching sound followed.

Then a low, wet growl.

Something was moving behind the collapsed wall to his left.

Riven narrowed his eyes.

He could sense it now.

A small creature, perhaps the size of a large dog, was crouched behind the rubble. Its mana signature was weak and irregular.

A ghoul.

Riven drew his sword.

The creature suddenly lunged from behind the wall.

Its body was thin and twisted, with pale gray skin stretched tightly over its bones. Its long arms ended in crooked claws, and its jaw hung open far wider than any human’s should.

Black veins spread across its neck and chest.

A faint shadow clung to its body.

Riven stepped aside.

The ghoul’s claws scraped against the stone where he had been standing.

Before it could turn around, Riven moved forward and slashed across its back.

His sword cut through the creature’s flesh.

It shrieked and stumbled.

Riven followed with another strike, cutting through its neck.

The ghoul collapsed.

He watched it for a moment before lowering his sword.

That had been easy.

He crouched beside the corpse and examined it.

The creature’s body was already beginning to dissolve into a dark mist. Its shadow touched mana seemed unstable, and the black veins beneath its skin were slowly fading.

Riven didn’t bother trying to harvest anything.

He checked the corpse for a moment longer, then continued deeper into the ruins.

Several minutes passed without incident.

Then he heard another growl.

This time, it came from behind him.

Riven turned.

Two ghouls emerged from a narrow passage.

He immediately activated Shadow Veil.

Dark mana spread along his sword, coating its edge in a thin layer of concentrated shadow.

The first ghoul charged.

Riven waited until it was close before stepping to the side. Its claws passed harmlessly in front of him.

He cut across its exposed ribs.

The second creature lunged before he could recover.

Riven twisted his body and brought his sword up to block its claws. The impact rattled his arm, but his reinforced armor prevented the creature from reaching his chest.

He kicked it backward.

Then he used Shadow Leap.

Space folded around him.

For a brief instant, the corridor seemed to stretch and distort. The next moment, Riven reappeared behind the ghoul.

His sword flashed.

The creature fell.

Riven turned toward the first ghoul, which was still struggling to stand.

He finished it with a quick thrust through the skull.

Two more kills.

He wiped his sword against the creature’s ragged clothing and checked his surroundings.

Nothing.

He exhaled.

The fight had been straightforward, but he wasn’t careless enough to assume the rest of the contract would be the same.

The ruins were old, and the Guild’s information was often incomplete.

He had learned that lesson the hard way.

Riven continued toward the center of the ruins.

The corridor eventually opened into a large chamber.

A broken stone archway stood at the far end, its surface covered in faded runes. Several pillars had collapsed, leaving piles of rubble scattered across the floor.

The ceiling was partially missing.

Moonlight spilled through the opening, illuminating the chamber in pale silver.

Riven stopped at the entrance.

Something was wrong.

He couldn’t explain it at first.

The chamber was empty, yet his spatial senses kept detecting something unusual.

It wasn’t movement.

It wasn’t mana.

It was more like a distortion in the space around him.

Riven slowly stepped forward.

His boots crossed the threshold.

Immediately, the air changed.

A sudden pressure settled over the chamber.

Riven froze.

His spatial senses flared violently.

Something was approaching.

No.

Something was already there.

His instincts screamed at him to move.

Riven snapped and activated Shadow Leap.

Darkness swallowed his body.

Space folded.

He aimed for a point ten feet ahead, intending to reappear near the far wall where he would have room to maneuver.

But the instant he emerged, he struck something.

An invisible barrier slammed into his chest.

The impact knocked the wind out of him.

His body bounced backward, and he stumbled across the stone floor, struggling to remain standing.

Before he could recover, a heavy hand seized his shoulder.

Riven was yanked forward and slammed against the wall.

Pain shot through his back.

His sword hand moved instinctively, but the stranger caught his wrist before he could draw his weapon.

Riven struggled.

He tried to pull mana from his core.

Nothing happened.

A crushing pressure surrounded him, smothering his mana channels before he could form even the smallest spell.

For the first time since his encounter with Vane, Riven felt genuine fear.

He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t cast.

And he had no idea who was holding him.

The stranger leaned closer.

"Your footwork is sloppy."

His voice was deep and gravelly.

"Your spatial anchor is jagged, and you telegraph your leaps like a novice trying to throw a punch."

Riven looked up.

The man standing before him was tall and heavily scarred. A tattered ash gray cloak hung from his shoulders, partially concealing a battered chestplate beneath it.

His face was hidden beneath a deep hood.

Only his eyes were visible.

They were cold, steel gray, and utterly unimpressed.

The man flicked two fingers.

The Umbral Needle that had begun forming in Riven’s palm dissolved into harmless mist.

Riven stared at his empty hand.

He had barely started casting.

The stranger had erased the spell as though it were nothing.

"Who are you?" Riven demanded.

The man ignored the question.

Instead, he tightened his grip on Riven’s shoulder.

"Do you always leap blindly into unknown spaces?"

Riven gritted his teeth.

"I knew where I was going."

"Clearly."

The man released him.

Riven stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall.

He immediately stepped away, keeping his distance.

His eyes remained fixed on the stranger.

The man didn’t seem particularly concerned.

He simply turned and walked toward the center of the chamber.

There had been no sound of footsteps before the attack. No warning. No indication that anyone had been waiting for him.

Riven’s spatial senses had detected the man only when he had already been caught.

That alone was enough to make him cautious.

He had fought monsters, bandits, mercenaries, and assassins.

But this man was different.

He didn’t need to move quickly.

He didn’t need to draw a weapon.

He had stopped Riven’s Shadow Leap with nothing more than a spatial barrier and suppressed his mana with an almost casual gesture.

Riven had never encountered anyone like him.

The stranger stopped beside a broken pillar and crossed his arms.

"I’ve watched you creeping around the frontier for weeks, boy."

Riven stiffened.

Weeks?

He had been followed?

The thought made his stomach tighten.

"Watching me?"

"Don’t look so surprised. You’re not particularly difficult to find."

The man glanced at the mask covering Riven’s face.

"Slicing sword straps, bullying veterans in taverns, and leaning entirely on that cursed piece of bone scrap on your jaw to carry your combat weight."

Riven’s expression hardened beneath the mask.

He remembered Marcus.

The man had tried to grab his hood in the tavern, and Riven had used Shadow Leap to reposition himself before cutting the strap of Marcus’s sword.

It hadn’t been a difficult fight.

But apparently, someone had been watching.

Riven kept his voice steady.

"Who are you?"

The stranger looked at him.

"A ghost, just like you."

He paused.

"The name is Garreth."

Riven waited.

Garreth sighed.

"I used to be a vanguard knight for a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore. Now I’m just a hermit watching a six year old kid play assassin in a garbage heap of a settlement."

Riven didn’t respond.

He didn’t know what to make of the man’s introduction.

A former knight.

A kingdom that no longer existed.

A hermit living in the ruins.

None of it explained why he had been watching Riven.

Or why he was powerful enough to suppress his magic so easily.

Garreth seemed to notice his silence.

"Well?"

"What do you want?"

Garreth raised an eyebrow.

"Straight to the point. Good."

He looked toward the broken archway.

"I want to know whether you’re actually worth the trouble."

Riven frowned.

"What trouble?"

"Watching you."

Garreth turned back toward him.

"You’ve been running around the frontier for weeks, taking contracts and fighting monsters. You’ve got a decent instinct for survival, and you aren’t afraid to get your hands dirty."

He paused.

"But you’re sloppy."

Riven’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.

Garreth noticed.

"Don’t like hearing that?"

"I don’t care what you think."

"Then you won’t mind proving me wrong."

Garreth stepped closer.

Riven immediately shifted his stance.

The man’s eyes moved toward his feet.

"There’s that terrible footwork again."

Riven said nothing.

Garreth continued.

"You rely too much on your magic. Your swordsmanship is passable for a child, but you have no real understanding of how to fight someone who can counter your abilities."

Riven’s jaw tightened beneath the mask.

He had spent months training with Aiden.

He had fought monsters that could tear him apart.

He had survived an ambush that nearly killed him.

And now this stranger was telling him that none of it was enough.

Garreth pointed toward the mask.

"That thing is a crutch."

Riven’s expression darkened.

"It’s saved my life."

"Perhaps."

Garreth shrugged.

"But it has also made you lazy."

Riven stared at him.

The accusation irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

The mask had given him abilities he couldn’t have developed on his own. It enhanced his spatial awareness, improved his mana efficiency, and allowed him to move through darkness with far greater precision.

Without it, he might not have survived the frontier.

But Garreth didn’t seem impressed.

"It gives you raw spatial efficiency," he continued. "You can leap farther, form spells faster, and sense things you shouldn’t be able to detect at your age."

He stepped closer.

"But you don’t understand any of it."

Riven remained silent.

Garreth pointed toward the place where Riven had attempted to leap.

"Your anchor was unstable. You chose a destination without properly accounting for the surrounding space. You didn’t check whether anything could interfere with your arrival."

He tapped the stone floor with his boot.

"And when I blocked your destination, you had no backup plan."

Riven glanced toward the spot.

He remembered the impact.

The barrier had felt like striking a solid wall, except there had been nothing there.

He had never encountered anything like it.

"How did you do that?"

Garreth gave him a flat look.

"Spatial magic."

Riven frowned.

"You’re a spatial mage?"

"Among other things."

That answer only raised more questions.

Garreth didn’t seem interested in answering them.

Instead, he reached down and picked up a heavy iron training sword lying beside the broken pillar.

Its blade was dull and slightly chipped. The weapon looked old, but its weight was considerable.

Garreth tossed it toward Riven.

The sword clattered across the flagstones and stopped at his boots.

"Pick it up."

Riven looked down.

Then he looked back at Garreth.

"Why?"

"Because I’m going to teach you something."

Riven hesitated.

He didn’t trust the man.

Not after being ambushed and pinned against a wall.

But he also knew that he had no chance of defeating him in a fight.

Garreth had demonstrated that much already.

Riven bent down and picked up the training sword.

It was heavier than his short sword, and its grip was worn smooth from years of use.

He adjusted his hold.

Garreth watched him.

"Not terrible."

Riven raised the blade.

Garreth moved into a stance.

It was a simple position, with his feet planted firmly on the stone and his body relaxed. There was no obvious tension in his shoulders or arms.

Yet something about the stance made Riven hesitate.

It looked almost casual.

But the longer he stared at it, the more he realized that every part of Garreth’s body was positioned deliberately.

His weight was balanced.

His knees were slightly bent.

His hands rested naturally near the center of his body.

There was no obvious opening.

Riven had seen similar stances before, but never one that felt so complete.

Garreth tilted his head.

"Come on."

Riven didn’t move.

"Are you waiting for an invitation?"

Riven tightened his grip.

Then he attacked.

He stepped forward and swung the training sword toward Garreth’s shoulder.

The man barely moved.

He shifted his weight, allowing the blade to pass in front of him, then struck Riven’s wrist with the back of his hand.

Pain shot through Riven’s fingers.

His grip loosened.

Before he could recover, Garreth stepped forward and kicked his leg out from beneath him.

Riven hit the floor.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs.

He rolled onto his side and scrambled backward.

Garreth hadn’t even drawn a weapon.

"Dead."

Riven pushed himself up.

Garreth waited.

Riven attacked again.

This time, he tried to feint before striking.

He shifted his weight to the left, then swung from the opposite side.

Garreth saw through it immediately.

He caught Riven’s sword arm, turned his body, and sent him crashing onto the stone floor again.

"Dead."

Riven gritted his teeth.

He got up.

Again.

He tried to use Shadow Leap.

The spell activated, but before he could complete the movement, Garreth raised one hand.

Space tightened around Riven.

His body stopped halfway through the leap.

For an instant, he felt as though he were being pulled in two different directions.

Then the spell collapsed.

Riven stumbled forward.

Garreth struck him lightly in the chest with two fingers.

The impact was enough to send him sprawling backward.

"Dead."

Riven lay on the floor, breathing heavily.

His chest hurt.

His pride hurt even more.

He had barely lasted a few seconds in each exchange.

Garreth hadn’t needed to use a sword, and Riven hadn’t landed a single clean hit.

The man walked toward him.

"Get up."

Riven stared at him.

"Why?"

Garreth stopped.

"Because you’re not finished."

Riven slowly rose to his feet.

His arms trembled slightly from exhaustion.

Garreth watched him for a moment.

Then he nodded toward the training sword.

"Again."

The next several attempts went no better.

Riven tried attacking from different angles.

He attempted to use his improved footwork, moving around Garreth instead of charging directly at him.

He even tried combining Shadow Veil with his sword strikes.

None of it worked.

Garreth seemed to anticipate every movement.

When Riven tried to close the distance, Garreth stepped aside.

When Riven attempted to retreat, Garreth followed.

When Riven tried to create space for another Shadow Leap, Garreth disrupted the mana gathering before the spell could form.

It was humiliating.

Riven had grown accustomed to being the one who controlled the pace of a fight.

Against ordinary monsters, he could use his speed and magic to create openings.

Against weaker adventurers, his mask gave him enough of an advantage to overwhelm them before they could respond.

But Garreth didn’t give him any openings.

Every attack was met with a counter.

Every retreat was punished.

Every attempt to cast magic was interrupted.

Eventually, Riven’s arms began to shake.

He lowered the training sword.

Garreth stared at him.

"Already tired?"

Riven said nothing.

"You’re six years old. I suppose I shouldn’t expect much."

Riven’s eyes narrowed.

Garreth noticed.

"There’s the anger."

He stepped forward.

"Good. Use it."

Riven raised his sword again.

Garreth shook his head.

"No. Not like that."

Riven froze.

Garreth pointed toward his feet.

"Your stance is falling apart. Your weight is too far forward, and your shoulders are tense."

He demonstrated the position.

"You’re trying to force your way through every exchange. That’s why you keep getting thrown around."

Riven looked down at his feet.

He adjusted his stance.

Garreth nodded.

"Better."

Riven raised his sword.

"Now what?"

"Watch me."

Garreth moved.

It was a small movement.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, barely moving his upper body.

Riven watched closely.

"Again," Garreth said.

He repeated the movement.

Riven tried to imitate him.

His feet moved awkwardly.

Garreth immediately shook his head.

"You’re copying the motion without understanding it."

Riven frowned.

"Then explain it."

Garreth stared at him for a moment.

Then he crouched slightly and tapped the floor.

"Your feet aren’t just there to keep you standing. They’re how you control your distance. Every movement starts with them."

He shifted his weight again.

"If you move too far forward, you lose your balance. If you lean too far back, you can’t attack. If you keep your feet planted, anyone with decent timing can knock you down."

Riven listened carefully.

Garreth pointed toward him.

"Now move."

Riven stepped forward.

Garreth immediately tapped his ankle with his boot.

Riven stumbled.

"Too much."

Riven tried again.

This time, he moved more carefully.

Garreth watched his feet.

"Better. Again."

Riven repeated the movement.

"Again."

He continued.

After several attempts, he began to understand what Garreth wanted.

The movements were small.

Almost insignificant.

But they changed the way his body carried its weight.

He no longer needed to lean forward to move quickly. He could shift his weight without losing his balance, allowing him to change direction more easily.

It was similar to what Aiden had taught him.

But Garreth’s explanations were different.

Aiden had focused on practical swordsmanship and surviving ordinary fights.

Garreth seemed interested in something more fundamental.

He was teaching Riven how to move.

An hour passed.

Riven’s arms were sore, his legs ached, and his breathing had become uneven.

Yet Garreth showed no sign of stopping.

"Again."

Riven stepped forward.

This time, he didn’t attack immediately.

He watched Garreth’s shoulders.

Then his hips.

Then his feet.

He remembered Aiden’s lessons about reading an opponent’s movements.

Garreth shifted his weight.

Riven moved to the side.

For the first time, he avoided the man’s initial counter.

He stepped forward and swung the training sword.

Garreth blocked the attack with his forearm.

Riven immediately tried to recover.

But Garreth was already moving.

He swept Riven’s legs out from beneath him.

Riven hit the floor.

"Dead."

He lay there for a moment.

Then he slowly sat up.

Garreth looked down at him.

"That was better."

Riven blinked.

It was the first time the man had said anything remotely encouraging.

"Really?"

"Don’t get excited. You still lost."

Riven pushed himself to his feet.

"But I avoided your first attack."

"Yes."

"And I almost hit you."

"No."

Riven frowned.

Garreth sighed.

"You almost hit where I was standing. That isn’t the same thing."

Riven looked at the training sword.

He couldn’t argue with that.

Garreth stepped back.

"Again."

Riven raised the blade.

This time, he paid closer attention to the man’s movements.

He watched the subtle shifts in Garreth’s shoulders and hips.

He waited for the slightest indication that the man was about to move.

Then he attacked.

Garreth blocked the strike.

Riven shifted his weight and tried to follow with another.

Garreth stepped aside.

But Riven didn’t overextend himself.

He kept his balance and adjusted his position.

For a brief moment, he managed to remain standing in front of the man without being immediately knocked down.

Then Garreth struck his shoulder.

Riven stumbled backward.

He barely managed to keep his grip on the sword.

"Dead."

Riven exhaled.

It wasn’t much.

But it was progress.

Eventually, Garreth lowered his hand.

"Enough."

Riven stopped.

His entire body ached.

He could feel the strain in his legs, and his arms were trembling from the repeated impacts.

He leaned on the training sword.

Garreth watched him for a moment.

"You’re stubborn."

Riven looked up.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?"

"No."

Garreth turned toward the broken archway.

"It’s an observation."

Riven remained silent.

The man walked toward the center of the chamber and picked up a small piece of rubble.

He tossed it aside.

"Most children your age would have quit after the first few falls."

"I’m not most children."

Garreth glanced over his shoulder.

"No. You’re not."

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Riven asked the question that had been bothering him since the beginning.

"Why are you doing this?"

Garreth stopped.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he looked toward the ruined ceiling, where the moonlight spilled into the chamber.

"Because you’re going to get yourself killed."

Riven frowned.

"I’ve survived this long."

"By luck."

The words stung.

Garreth continued.

"You’ve got talent. More than most children your age. Your mana control is decent, and your instincts aren’t terrible."

He turned toward Riven.

"But you rely on that mask too much. You use it to cover weaknesses that you should be fixing."

Riven lowered his eyes.

He didn’t want to admit it.

But he knew Garreth wasn’t entirely wrong.

His Shadow Leap had saved his life more than once.

His Umbral Needle had allowed him to kill enemies from a distance.

And the mask had made both abilities easier to use.

But he had never truly understood the spatial principles behind the mask’s abilities.

He had learned to use them.

Not to master them.

Garreth folded his arms.

"If you keep fighting the way you do now, sooner or later you’ll run into someone who knows how to counter you."

Riven looked up.

"And then?"

Garreth’s expression didn’t change.

"You’ll die."

The answer was blunt.

There was no comfort in it.

No reassurance.

Just a simple statement of what Garreth believed would happen.

Riven tightened his grip on the training sword.

He didn’t want to die.

Not after everything he had endured.

Not after escaping the slave camp, surviving the frontier, and earning his place in the Guild.

He had worked too hard to throw his life away because he couldn’t be bothered to improve.

"Then teach me."

Garreth raised an eyebrow.

"Teach you?"

Riven nodded.

"You’re obviously stronger than me. You understand spatial magic, and you know how to fight."

Garreth stared at him.

Riven continued.

"I want to learn."

The man remained silent.

For a moment, Riven thought he might refuse.

Then Garreth laughed.

It was a low, rough sound, more like a cough than genuine amusement.

"You’re making a lot of assumptions, boy."

Riven didn’t respond.

Garreth stepped closer.

"I never said I was going to teach you."

Riven’s shoulders stiffened.

"Then why did you make me fight you?"

"To see whether you were worth the trouble."

"And?"

Garreth studied him.

His steel gray eyes seemed to look straight through the mask.

"You’re not hopeless."

Riven waited.

"That’s the best you’re getting tonight."

Garreth turned away.

Riven stared at him.

"Does that mean you’ll teach me?"

Garreth stopped near the archway.

"Come back tomorrow."

Riven blinked.

"What?"

"If you’re serious, come back tomorrow. Same time."

Garreth looked over his shoulder.

"Bring that sword. And don’t expect me to go easy on you."

Riven tightened his grip on the weapon.

"I won’t."

Garreth gave him a long, unimpressed look.

"We’ll see."

Then he walked through the archway and disappeared into the darkness beyond.

Riven stood alone in the chamber.

For several minutes, he didn’t move.

He could still feel the pressure of Garreth’s aura lingering in the air.

His shoulder hurt where the man had grabbed him, and his chest ached from the impact against the invisible barrier.

But something else had changed.

For the first time in months, Riven had encountered someone who could completely overwhelm him.

Not because they were faster.

Not because they were stronger.

But because they understood things he didn’t.

He looked down at the dull training sword in his hand.

Then he glanced toward the archway where Garreth had disappeared.

A strange feeling settled in his chest.

It wasn’t fear.

Not entirely.

It was anticipation.

Riven left the ruins shortly before dawn.

The journey back to the settlement was quiet.

He kept his hood pulled low and his hand near his sword, but he encountered no monsters on the way.

By the time he reached the outer road, the first traces of sunlight had begun to appear over the hills.

He was exhausted.

His legs ached, his arms were sore, and his chest still hurt from the earlier impact.

Yet his thoughts remained fixed on the man in the ruins.

Garreth.

A former vanguard knight from a kingdom that no longer existed.

A man who could manipulate space well enough to interrupt Shadow Leap and suppress Riven’s mana with almost no effort.

And apparently, someone who had been watching him for weeks.

Riven didn’t know why Garreth had taken an interest in him.

He didn’t know whether the man was trustworthy.

But he knew one thing.

If he wanted to survive the frontier, he needed to become stronger.

And Garreth might be able to teach him how.

When Riven returned to the inn, the streets were beginning to wake.

He slipped through the entrance and climbed the stairs to his room.

After locking the door, he removed his cloak and placed the training sword against the wall.

Then he sat on the edge of the bed and opened his status window.

Name: Riven

Age: 6

Rank: F Rank

Core: Level 2

Affinity: Shadow

Skills

Shadow Veil: 100%: Learned

Umbral Needle: 93%: Learned

Shadow Leap: 52%: Learned

Swordplay: 43%: Intermediate

Riven stared at the numbers.

His progress had been steady.

He had learned to use his abilities effectively, and his swordsmanship had improved considerably since his days in the slave camp.

But after fighting Garreth, those numbers felt less impressive.

He had been relying on his abilities to make up for his lack of experience.

Against ordinary monsters, that had been enough.

Against someone like Garreth, it wasn’t.

Riven closed the status window.

He needed to improve his spatial control.

He needed to become better with his sword.

And he needed to learn how to fight without relying on the mask to solve every problem.

He lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

Tomorrow, he would return to the ruins.

He would train with Garreth.

And this time, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes.

At least, that was what he told himself.

For now, he closed his eyes and allowed exhaustion to take over.

Tomorrow would be another difficult day.