The world around him twisted.
One moment, he stood bloodied and locked in deadly combat with the Panther King—and in the next, he was standing alone before an ancient lake, shrouded by towering stone ridges like the ribs of a long-dead god. The air here was still. Cold. So cold it bit through his flesh and bone like glass needles. Even breath crystallized midair.
Above, the sky was torn between twilight and oblivion—a canvas of deep purples and endless black, scattered with crimson stars that pulsed like watching eyes.
Riven narrowed his eyes. He knew it had truly happened in his past life.
The lake in front of him reflected nothing. Not the stars. Not his body. Not even light.
And then, from the mist.
Three colossal black dragons emerged, their forms so massive they darkened the horizon. Their scales rippled with ancient power, each movement exuding suffocating majesty.
Behind them floated ten ancient cultivators, cloaked in gold and obsidian, hovering like deities untouched by time. Their eyes burned with the weight of forgotten eras.
Riven's instincts flared.
Every cell in his body screamed to move. To act.
The world shuddered—And then it began.
The battle.
Voidless Flame erupted around him as he shot forward, meeting overwhelming power with divine fury. Flames turned the sky gold. Each of his strikes split the air. His enemies moved like lightning, but Riven—he was faster, sharper, colder.
Ten ancient cultivators. Three immortal dragons.
And he fought them alone.
Every strike shattered valleys. Every parry echoed like thunder across mountains. His movements were a dance—lethal, beautiful, unrelenting.
This was not the Riven of now.
This was the Riven from before.
A cultivator who once stood at the peak of the Astral Void Domain. The boy king of destruction. The child of prophecy… or perhaps, of doom.
But just as he was about to release his final strike the world dissolved.
Like smoke being drawn back into the lungs of time.
Riven's vision snapped back.
He stood once again in the present—face-to-face with the Panther King. His breath misted in the cold air. His dagger burned with a fading golden glow.
Only one second had passed.
Yet within him… centuries had stirred.
He blinked, ember-blue eyes steady.
"In my previous life, I had already become powerful before I even turned eighteen… but this time…"
His gaze sharpened.
"This time, I'm late. This time… I've barely even started."
He clenched his fist. "I have to grow faster. I can't waste another moment."
The Panther King growled low, reading the shift in his aura.
And again—they clashed.
Blow after blow. One hundred, two hundred. Fangs and fire. Speed and precision. Riven's cloak fluttered, now torn and singed, his mouth bleeding at the corners.
Yet he smiled. Not out of arrogance.
But freedom.
This was the first time he had fought with such recklessness since his reincarnation.
And the Panther King?
Its fur was scorched. Dagger wounds lined its flanks—some shallow, others deep, still glowing faintly with lingering golden flame.
But neither could gain the upper hand.
Until—Riven's eyes narrowed. His expression changed. He stopped mid-air, floating in stillness.
"Panther King," he said telepathically, the words bypassing speech.
"You feel it too, don't you? Neither of us can kill the other. But if I unleash my trump card, that Voidless Flame…"
His voice echoed through the beast's mind, cold and deliberate.
"…you'll be reduced to ash in seconds."
The Panther stilled. Its golden eyes flickered. It didn't deny it.
Moments passed in silence, until—
"What's your deal?"
The answer came, surprisingly… from the beast itself.
A telepathic reply. Its voice was low and rough, but ancient—far older than any ordinary spirit beast.
Riven blinked, surprised. He hadn't expected it to respond.
"You're bound to this place," he continued. "Compelled to guard those three ancient trees. I want to know what they're hiding. And in return… I'll find a way to release you from your binding."
The Panther considered him. A flicker of intelligence moved in its golden eyes.
"I know little. Only that something old slumbers there. If you want to uncover its truth, feed your blood to the trees. But know this—"
Its tone turned grave.
"Many have tried. Most never returned. Others… returned mindless. Broken. Turned into ghouls."
Riven's gaze didn't waver.
"I've already died once. I'll take the risk."
He vanished.
A soft rustle marked his reappearance near the ancient trees—three towering, twisted giants wrapped in blackened bark, their leaves shimmered faintly under the moonlight like etched silver runes.
The air here was heavy. Too heavy.
Something was watching.
Riven inspected the base of each tree carefully, senses stretched to their limit. No visible traps. No spiritual ripples. Nothing that hinted danger—at least, not on the surface.
He inhaled deeply.
Then he cut his finger.
One drop of his blood, placed carefully on each tree.
He waited. But nothing happened.
No light. No sound. Not even shift in wind.
He frowned, disappointed. "That bastard beast tricked me—"
But before he could curse, a white flash swallowed him whole.
He vanished. Gone in an instant.
Elsewhere—
Lucien leaned against a shattered boulder, chest heaving. Blood crusted the edge of his jaw. Mira sat beside him, still pale, sipping the last of her healing elixirs. Her spiritual aura was frayed, her robes torn, but her gaze remained fixed on the place where the cloaked figure had vanished.
The battlefield had gone silent.
The Black Panther King, once the incarnation of slaughter and fury, now lounged atop a broken stone like a sovereign grown bored of war.
It glanced at Lucien and Mira once.
Then turned away. And dismissed them.
As if they weren't even worth finishing.
Like weak chickens pecking at the edges of a feast they were never meant to join.
Lucien clenched his fists.
He had survived. But it didn't feel like victory.
"…Who was that man?" Mira asked softly.
Lucien shook his head. "I don't know."
His voice was quiet and bitter.
"But I know one thing… he doesn't belong to any sect or bloodline in our kingdom. Someone like that—someone who can fight a Soulspark-class beast to a draw and survive…"
His eyes darkened. "Is not ordinary."
—
When the haze cleared from his vision, Riven found himself standing in the center of a quiet courtyard.
It was… ordinary, almost unnervingly so.
Small stone tiles lined the floor. Flowers bloomed at the edges—lavender, moon-pearls, and frost lilies—all swaying in a wind that didn't exist. In front of him, a wooden table stood between two simple chairs, and on one of them…
Sat a woman.
She was breathtaking.
She didn't shimmer with divine energy, nor radiate overwhelming presence, but her very being tilted the world. Her long hair cascaded like silver rivers bathed in starlight. Her fingers moved with grace as she brought a cup of pale-blue tea to her lips.
She looked at him and smiled—warmly, as though she'd known him for lifetimes.
"Riven," she said, her voice like moonlight on still water. "Come. Sit. It's your favorite… frost tea."
Riven's heart thudded. A whirlwind of emotions roared inside him—shock, disbelief, a sliver of longing.
But his face remained calm.
He stepped forward without hesitation, sat across from her, and took the tea cup.
The aroma hit him instantly. Cold and clean. The taste of memories.
He sipped.
It tasted exactly like home.
From a distance, they looked like lovers in quiet companionship. A man and woman sharing tea beneath a pale sky, lost in their own world.
But beneath the stillness… was a storm.
At last, Riven broke the silence, a sarcastic edge in his tone. "Should I call you the Goddess of Time and Space now, Selenia? Or just 'your highness'? To what do I owe the honor of seeing you again?"
Selenia didn't flinch at his sarcasm. She only smiled, gently placing her cup down.
"I know you're angry," she said softly. "You have every right to be. I wasn't there... when they hunted you. When the entire Astral Void Domain turned on you."
His eyes darkened, lips pressed into a firm line.
Pain flickered beneath the surface. A memory of betrayal. Of countless blades turned toward him. Of gods and kings joining hands to erase his existence.
She continued, voice tinged with regret. "I couldn't help you, Riven. Because I was already trapped."
His brow furrowed. "What are you saying? Trapped where?"
"My original body…" she whispered. "Is trapped in the Immortal Realm. Sealed by an ancient bloodline with power even I couldn't predict."
Riven's gaze sharpened. "What?"
He stood abruptly, the teacup clinking on the table. "You're the Goddess of Time and Space. Who could possibly seal you?"
Selenia gave a helpless smile, though pain glimmered behind her eyes.
"The universe is vast, Riven. There's always someone stronger. Always something older."
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the cup again. "The day you died… the day your soul was reincarnated into that modern world… it wasn't natural."
Riven froze.
"Go on," he said.
"I found your new soul signature," she said, "trapped in a mortal modern realm. I used an ancient artifact to tear through dimensions… I stood before you. You were still young. Unaware of who you were."
She paused, eyes distant.
"And just then… a vortex appeared. It swallowed you. And I—I could only watch. Powerless."
Her voice cracked.
"You were ripped from that world. Reborn here, in the Skyren Realm… but it was no accident."
Riven's breath grew still.
"You're saying even my reincarnation was manipulated?"
She nodded solemnly.
"By a force beyond even my comprehension."
Silence returned. Riven stared at her, trying to read the lie in her eyes.
There was none.
He finally asked, voice quieter now:
"If your real body is trapped… how are you here?"
Selenia looked down into her tea.
"This is a spiritual fragment," she said. "A projection my true self left in secret—before she was captured. I only have enough power to manifest briefly."
She looked up, meeting his gaze.
She looked up, meeting his gaze.
"And I came to ask for something only you can give."
Riven's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Help?"
She smiled faintly. "Of course."
Riven stood up and walked toward the edge of the courtyard. He plucked a small violet flower from the ground and stared at it.
"Right now," he said quietly, "I'm not strong enough. The enemy you speak of… I can't even begin to imagine their level."
He paused, fingers tightening slightly around the stem.
Selenia walked toward him, her tone turning teasing.
"I know you'll help me," she said. "Even if I hadn't asked. That's just how you are to me… isn't it?"
Riven turned to her. A flicker of amusement crossed his expression.
"You're different from your original self," he said. "Bolder. If the real Selenia were here, she'd be blushing bright red by now."
She smirked. "Oh, please… you bastard."
Then, unexpectedly, she stepped closer—too close—and looked him straight in the eyes.
"The one who captured me… he wants my powers. My control over time and space. If he succeeds, my original body will die. But instead of forcing me directly, he's…"
Her voice trembled.
"…hurting the people I care about. You. My closest one. My most cherished."
She clenched her fists.
"Time flows differently across realms. One day in the Immortal Realm… is one month in the Astral Void Domain. And one year here in the Skyren Realm."
She met his gaze again.
Her voice was softer now.
"You only have ten years here before… it's too late."
Her eyes glistened. Her lips quivered.
"Ten years to reach the power that can tear through dimensions… or I die."
Then, without warning—She stepped forward and embraced him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Her warmth was brief, like a dying flame.
She rose on her toes and kissed him—gentle, sorrowful.
He didn't pull away, but his breath caught for a fraction of a second something even he hadn't expected.
And then… Her form began to dissolve.
"We'll meet again," she said, voice fading like dust in wind.
And she was gone.
Riven remained frozen in place.
His eyes, usually calm, were now bloodshot.
But he didn't rage. Didn't scream.
He only whispered to the cold air. "Whoever you are… your countdown has begun…"
He stared up at the void-like sky.
"You took the only person I ever truly cared the most. The one I…" He exhaled slowly.
His voice turned colder.
"You enjoy pulling the strings, right?"
He smiled darkly. "Let's see who controls the board when the game ends."
The world snapped again.
Riven found himself standing before a small hut in the mist.
He blinked. The transition was so smooth, it felt like waking from a dream.
He reached inward. "Kaira? Why didn't you say anything just now?"
Her voice responded instantly, confused.
"What do you mean? You just arrived here. I didn't sense anything strange."
Riven closed his eyes.
He understood now.
That entire moment had existed between moments. Folded space. Timeless time.
Only one being could create that illusion. Selenia.
And she was waiting for him. Ten years. The clock had begun ticking.
And behind the hut… something stirred. A shadow older than the stars. Waiting and watching silently.