The fire had barely cooled in the Eastern District.
Ashes still floated in the air. The scent of blood, smoke, and burned cloth lingered in the streets. But life had returned—fiercely, stubbornly.
Children carried messages instead of begging.
Blacksmiths hammered in rhythm with hope.
And people spoke his name with reverence and fear.
Riven Valen. Defender of the East.
But there was no time to bask in victory.
A sealed letter arrived at dawn, hand-delivered by a masked courier riding a white wyvern.
> "You are summoned to the Council.
One seat has been earned.
Appear unarmed. Appear alone."
Riven narrowed his eyes.
A test. A trap. An opportunity.
He read it once more, then burned it.
He would go.
---
> [New Quest: The Council of Power]
Objective: Attend the Shadow Council and survive political confrontation.
Reward: Territory Recognition, New Faction Interface, Hidden Skill Unlock.
---
Eron paced as Riven strapped a simple dagger to his calf.
"They said alone."
"They always say alone," Riven replied, tying the clasp under his trousers.
Eron frowned. "You know this could be a setup."
"I'm counting on it."
---
They traveled at dusk. Two horses. One rider.
Riven rode in silence across empty avenues, once run by gangs now in hiding or gone entirely.
The council was held in the ruins of the Old Tribunal, a collapsed courthouse from the first war. Its underground survived—a labyrinth of stone halls, sealed from the world.
He reached the arched entrance, where six guards in crimson armor stood without speaking.
They took his weapons. Scanned him with runes.
He was clean.
Or so they thought.
---
A massive stone door creaked open.
He descended into darkness.
Torches flickered to life magically as he passed.
And then—light.
A domed chamber, circular, with seven thrones carved into the wall like judgment seats.
Four were occupied.
Two empty.
One for him.
---
He walked to the sixth seat and stood before it.
No one gestured.
No one welcomed him.
He sat anyway.
---
From the far side, a woman with silver hair and green robes watched him closely.
Lady Varell. Mistress of trade, espionage, and blackmail. Said to be noble-born, exiled after orchestrating a coup against her own brother.
Next to her, draped in chains and red monk robes, sat The Scourged Monk. His face was bandaged, eyes hollow. His district was ruled through fear and purity laws. Followers mutilated themselves in his honor.
Third was Don Halberd, wide and soft-looking, but his gold rings whispered power. He controlled the river routes, hired the best killers money could buy.
The fourth, silent and unseen, wore a mask shaped like a serpent's head.
The Serpent's Emissary. Genderless. Ageless. A living shadow of the Order.
---
"Riven Valen," Lady Varell said first, her voice velvet and poison.
"You arrive bloodstained from battle, and already the city sings of you."
"I didn't come for compliments," Riven replied.
"Good," said Don Halberd. "Because they may become curses, depending on how you act here."
Riven leaned back in his chair.
"I'm listening."
---
The Scourged Monk hissed.
"You upset balance. You kill without blessing. You occupy ground once ruled by penance."
"The Eastern District bled for itself," Riven said. "I just stopped the bleeding."
Varell chuckled. "Clever words. But you're here because we allow it."
"No," Riven said sharply. "You're here because you need me now."
A beat of silence.
Then Halberd grinned. "Bold. But not wrong."
---
For the next hour, the council discussed:
Garrick's failed invasion.
The growing unrest in the northern tunnels.
The rising influence of a distant cult beyond the city walls.
Rumors that the Imperial Army may soon send an enforcer.
Every move, every phrase, held double meaning.
Power swirled here like smoke—intangible, toxic.
Riven said little. He observed. He learned.
---
> [Passive Skill Activated: Battlefield Awareness – Political Variant Lv.1]
---
Then came the proposal.
"We recognize you as Warden of the East," said Lady Varell. "In exchange for access."
"What kind of access?"
"Passage for our agents. Storage rights. Limited taxes."
Riven narrowed his eyes.
"Too much. You want presence without responsibility."
Don Halberd coughed. "Then make a counteroffer, boy."
"I hold the East. I protect its people. I fund it myself. If you want something from it, you pay for it."
Silence.
Then—
A slow clap.
The Serpent Emissary leaned forward.
"You play well for a new piece."
"I'm not a piece," Riven said.
"I'm the player."
---
> [New Faction Status: Recognized - Eastern Sovereign (Provisional)]
[Faction Panel Unlocked.]
> Territory: Eastern District
Population: 3,200
Military Strength: 412
Morale: Rising
Loyalty: 62%
---
The Emissary passed him a sealed scroll.
"Then perhaps you'll accept our blessing. Or our test."
He took it.
The scroll bore no markings. Only wax stamped with a serpent's eye.
"I'll consider it."
---
The council adjourned with murmurs and glances.
As Riven turned to leave, the Scourged Monk hissed once more.
"One of us will kill you, Archer King."
Riven stopped.
Without turning, he said, "Try. But only once."
Then walked into the shadows.
---
Outside, Eron was waiting with a fresh horse and a worried look.
"Alive?" he asked.
"Barely," Riven replied, mounting. "We made an impression."
"And?"
"And they'll try to use us. Or kill us. Possibly both."
Eron sighed. "Standard politics, then."
Riven cracked a smile.
"Exactly."
---
That night, back in the tower of the Eastern District, he unsealed the scroll.
Inside:
> [Hidden Mission Unlocked: The Blade Within the Circle]
Objective: Identify which council member has ordered your assassination.
Reward: Unique Skill – Judgment of the Forgotten.
Penalty: Permanent Death.
---
He closed the scroll, expression hardening.
He had entered the game now.
And in this game, there was no second life.
Only strategy.
And survival.
---
> [Synchronization: 74%...]