The water had stilled again.
But it wasn't peace that followed—it was aftermath. Mist rolled over the pond's surface like breath exhaled from the corpse of battle. The air felt thicker, full of smoke and silence, charged with something unnamed.
Mira stood close to Caelum, her voice hushed and fraying at the edges. "Caelum, are you really sure Riven's going to be okay after this?"
She wasn't just watching the crimson-eyed knight anymore—she was studying him. Watching how his silhouette flickered red under the faint light, how green blood stained every inch of him from head to toe. It soaked his disheveled black hair, ran in rivers down his chestplate, boots, and gauntlets. His helmet, which he had taken off for more visibility, was also stained with the cursed blood, strapped sideways on his neck. And underneath it all—there was a smell. A strange one. Like fresh leaves dying in winter. Earthly, sickly sweet. Unnatural.
"The Instructors always told us not to keep our Faiths activated this long," Mira continued, her voice tightening. "And you rarely used your Creeds at all. You remember that, right? How strict they were?"
Caelum nodded slowly, eyes still locked on Riven's form, which hadn't moved for several long seconds. "Yeah. I remember. But honestly?" He exhaled through his nose, rubbing at his temple. "I don't think we need to worry. The Trial's been scraping everyone raw, but Riven… this side of him? It doesn't show up unless it has to. He's controlled."
Brin chuckled, his blade resting across his shoulder. "He is, most of the time. Stoic as a statue. But honestly, I think he needed this. My mother always said being too composed all the time freezes the nerves. You need to let some warmth flicker through once in a while. This might be his."
Sir Calden scoffed. "The boy's right," he rumbled. "Sometimes a person needs to burn a little." His gaze lifted toward Riven. "And let's not forget—it's Riven we're talking about. He wasn't chosen for the Trial of Purity just because he looked the part. He came from…" Calden hesitated. "Well. That section."
Everything went still.
Three pairs of eyes—Mira's, Brin's, and Caelum's—turned to him like wolves sensing weakness.
"What was that you said, Sir?" Mira asked, her voice calm… and unblinking.
The older knight coughed and cleared his throat. "What I meant was—we don't have to worry about him. He's solid. Everyone knows it. Future general, that one."
Caelum beamed instantly, almost glowing. "Of course he is! Who else could he be if not my best friend?" He puffed out his chest. "We're basically brothers, right? Trained together. Bled together. Survived together."
A small wave of laughter rippled through the group. For a moment, the pressure broke. Their feet still ached in the freezing water, but their spirits lifted.
And then… the water shifted.
The slashing stopped.
They turned as one.
Riven stood tall upon a mountain—a mountain of tree corpses stacked in a grotesque pile, fifty feet tall at least. Their mangled forms twisted into one another like broken branches forced into scaffolding. Some bore matching wounds across their necks, as if they'd been cut by a sword that never touched them directly.
And Riven—he climbed the heap as if it were a throne.
Step by step, his boots left smears of dark green blood down the corpses. His black armor shimmered red at the edges, a ghost of the energy still clinging to him.
Then he reached the top.
He held his sword loosely, the tip dragging against the topmost trunk. He turned it in his hand. Drove the blade down into the heart of the pile.
And the energy shifted.
The red aura that had flickered around his body surged—roaring through the blade like fire drawn to oxygen. It shot downward, burrowing into the pile beneath him, lighting the heap with pulsing veins of scarlet.
Riven lowered his head.
"I've done it," he whispered. "I've avenged all of you."
His voice trembled, but not from exhaustion.
"All of you guys are happy now, right? You can stop bothering me now. Right?"
He chuckled, a brittle sound. Shook his head once. And the light in his eyes darkened to a steady red glow.
"May your souls never have a chance to flicker again."
He twisted the sword once.
And the world exploded.
A ripple of red force blew through the mound of corpses. Not a flash. Not a fire. A devouring pulse. All at once, the tree monsters were reduced to mist—green, earthy, and thick, flooding the cavern in a swirling cloud.
Riven fell.
Fifty feet straight down. And he landed without flinching—knees unbent, posture perfect. The impact cracked the bone-white floor beneath him, spiderweb lines fanning out from where his boots struck.
The green mist clung to him like a cape of death.
The others stood motionless on the original platform, too stunned to speak.
Then Riven straightened, blood-slick armor gleaming.
With a small, tired smile, he lifted a hand toward them. "Let's actually get across this treacherous pond now."
And collapsed.
Sir Calden surged forward, catching him mid-fall. Riven groaned faintly but didn't resist as the old knight hoisted him over his back.
"I'll carry him across," Calden muttered. "Strong or not, he needs rest."
Mira nodded, eyes soft. Caelum exhaled. Brin cleaned his blade and turned back toward the center of the pond.
Then Mira asked the question they'd all been avoiding.
"Does anyone know where the little psycho was taken? All I saw was a blur and then—he was just gone."
Brin shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine. I saw the same thing. Just a flash of water, and then…" He trailed off.
Caelum rubbed the back of his neck, then murmured, "I guess he wasn't all bad. Just needs some fixing. A bit of discipline. I could turn him into a decent squire, maybe. Give him a shot at becoming a knight. The army's always open to fresh recruits. The only question is—what platoon should he—"
Sir Calden rolled his eyes so hard it echoed. "Always trying to recruit for the Court of Faces. This boy…"
The group burst into laughter.
Their voices bounced off the cavern walls. Tired. Raw. But genuine.
For a moment… they were just people again.
Survivors.
And for the first time in a long time, the Trial didn't feel so heavy.
Everyone was having a good time.
It's like this was all a dream. And they have never truly left their homes.
Safely tucked in their cozy beds.