Chapter 25: Training

The abandoned forge was quiet except for the sound of knuckles brushing the dusty floor. Riven balanced on one arm, body taut like a bowstring as he pressed himself upward and downward. Sweat barely clung to him, despite the effort it took to pull off the exercise. His lips moved in steady rhythm.

"...nine hundred seventy-eight... nine hundred seventy-nine..."

His voice was low, almost meditative, even as his muscles strained against the stress he was visiting upon them. He pushed again in a steady and controlled manner.

"...nine hundred eighty-nine... nine hundred ninety..."

"...nine hundred ninety-nine..."

His palm flattened as his elbow started to tremble. One more.

"...one thousand."

He stayed in that inverted balance for a few minutes, his eyes half-lidded with his lungs pulling in steady drafts of air. But even as his body stilled, his mind did not.

Those dreams were starting to become an annoyance. That shadowed thing kept whispering in riddles and in gibberish. The same words, over and over again. Sometimes they spilled out in an unintelligible mess, other times they were clear as a fucking bell but somehow, always forgotten once he woke, except the very first time he saw the entity.

Riven gritted his teeth. No matter how many times he replayed it in his mind and tried to make sense of what that eerie entity was trying to tell him, it led nowhere, with no answers and clarity whatsoever. Just a gnawing riddle and the chill of something that wasn't quite human. And that, more than the words was whatworried him the most. Instinct screamed the truth: it wasn't human at all or even a deviant for that matter it was just… nothing.

With a grunt he stabled himself and dismissed it. No point chasing whispers right now. Tomorrow mattered more. Tomorrow they would be transported to Astralis, where he would finally stand among other Awakened. Arcanum wielders, Sigil bearers, those who had pushed past human limits. His blood hummed at the thought of meeting other types of awakened.

He shifted to the center of the forge, rolling upright with controlled grace. Stretching his arms behind his back until his shoulders cracked, he dropped into movement again and in a sharp, precise strikes.

A jab snapped out as he channels his energy, lumen faintly shimmering across his forearm like cracks of light. The punch rattled the air. His kicks twisted at impossible angles, each pivot driven by timed bursts of lumen that magnified his speed. He spun, heel slicing through empty space and leaving a glowing arc behind.

Minutes bled into an hour. Only when his body began to burn did he stop practicing the fighting style. He grabbed his battered flask, drank deep, then poured the rest across his head. Cold water ran down his chest, dripping to the cracked stone floor.

His gaze shifted toward the corner of the forge, where an ordinary wooden box sat. It had gathered dust for over a year, untouched since the day it was given to him till he decided to bring it along for training today.

"Why the hell did I even bring this?" he muttered.

For a moment, he thought of ignoring it again. But silence pressed in. With a sigh, he crouched and unlatched it.

The lid creaked.

Riven's eyes narrowed, scanning the contents. A scoff escaped him, followed by a wry grin.

"Well... at least he's got taste. I'll give him that."

A chuckle slipped free. His fingers curled around the item inside.

"Now then," he whispered. "Let's see how much better I can use this now."

---

The sound of Blades slickng through the air in a deadly symphony echoed out of the forge with a sharp hiss, steel clattered against beams, floors chipped and cracked under heavy strikes. The rhythm built, relentless. For three long hours, the echoes rang out, until silence returned once more.

Riven exhaled, sweat dripping from his temple. He placed the object back in the box, shut it, and slipped on his shirt and pack. A crooked smile tugged at his lips.

'Yup. I've still got it.'

The night air was cool as he walked home, head tilted up to the scattering of stars.

'I wonder how the first Awakeneds felt... when catastrophe fell, when oceans swallowed continents, when the Deviant's presence burned across the sky. Did they feel hope? Relief at having power beyond the regulars imagination? No... relief wouldn't come to those who knew they were the last line between humanity and annihilation.'

The thought lingered heavy in his mind, he had wanted power for so long and now that he's got it…will everything that is about to follow be worth it? After a while of walking and enjoying the night he finally reached his door. He set the box in the corner, stripped, and stepped into the shower. Water washed the dirt and sweat of training away.

Later, in bed, his mind drifted to the other institutes: Caelora Institute and Gravenholt... soon to gather in Eryndor.

'Rivals, allies, obstacles... which will they be?'

He sighed. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow."