Chapter 13 - 12 - Blood and Silence
Riven collapsed to his knees, both hands pressed against the cold, damp earth.
His entire body trembled violently—not just from exhaustion, but from the lingering tension that hadn’t yet faded from his nerves. His breathing was ragged, as if he’d just pulled himself back from the brink of death.
He glanced sideways, at the corpse of the man he’d just killed.
The man’s eyes were still open, vacant, staring at the night sky that offered no answers. Blood continued to seep from the wound in his chest, forming a small pool that soaked into the soil.
Riven then lowered his gaze to the sword in his hand.
Crysthalis.
The blade, once glowing with golden light, had now quieted. It radiated a faint, cold gleam—gentle, but powerful.
Only now did Riven realize: this sword had the ability to absorb an opponent’s attack—so long as it was physical—and reflect it. A truly extraordinary weapon. Far beyond anything he ever imagined possessing.
Yet, there was no pride in his heart. Only emptiness.
After several deep breaths, he began to stand, though his limbs shook. Then, he dragged the man’s body. The flesh was cold and heavy, but Riven forced himself to keep going, step by step, through the dark forest until he found a quiet stream flowing beyond the trees.
Without hesitation, he pushed the corpse into the current. The sound of it splashing into the water was soft, almost insignificant.