The fog pressed heavy against the ruined city, swallowing sound and light. Every corner of this cursed Gate reeked of blood and ash.
Riven crouched atop a half-collapsed wall, his breathing steady, his body aching from the duel with Kael. His hand still tingled with heat — that strange, stolen flame flickering deep inside him.
He opened his palm. A faint spark licked across his fingertips. Weak, unstable. Gone in an instant.
So it wasn't a fluke. Devour really does steal power… but it's incomplete. Just fragments.
The hunger within him stirred, gnawing like a beast rattling its cage. It wanted more. Always more.
"You look like a boy who's just tasted wine for the first time," a sultry voice called.
Riven didn't need to turn. He knew who it was.
Seraphina strolled into view, hips swaying, crimson hair spilling down her back like living flame. She leaned casually against the crumbling wall, emerald eyes glinting with amusement.
"Playing with fire can be dangerous, darling." Her lips curved. "Especially when it's not yours."
Riven clenched his fist, snuffing out the spark. "Then I'll make it mine."
Her laughter was low and velvety, curling around him like smoke. "Ambitious. I like that." She tilted her head, studying him. "Show me."
He frowned. "Show you?"
"Yes." She gestured toward the fog where growls echoed faintly. Shadows shifted in the mist, claws scraping stone. "The Gate provides plenty of toys. Use your spark. Burn them. Or…" Her eyes sharpened. "Be burned yourself."
Riven rose silently. No hesitation. No questions. He leapt down from the wall, boots crunching against broken stone.
The first beast lunged from the mist — a wolf-like creature, its body twisted with bone spikes, its eyes glowing crimson.
Riven dodged, his movements sharp, his knife flashing. But instead of striking with steel, he thrust his hand forward.
The spark flared.
A burst of fire sputtered out, barely strong enough to scorch fur. The beast howled, more enraged than hurt.
Riven clicked his tongue. Not enough.
The wolf pounced again. This time, Riven met it head-on, his palm slamming into its throat. His mark pulsed — Devour's hunger snapping violently.
The beast convulsed as fragments of its essence tore away. Riven staggered, his veins burning with stolen fire. The spark inside him roared brighter.
And then, flame erupted from his hand — wild, uncontrolled, but real.
The wolf's head ignited in a burst of scarlet fire. Its body writhed before dissolving into fragments.
Riven stood over the ashes, his chest heaving, his palm smoking.
A slow clap echoed from behind.
"My, my…" Seraphina's voice purred with amusement. "Not bad for your first dance."
Riven turned, his eyes cold, his smirk faint. "It's still weak."
"Of course it's weak." She stepped closer, her curves swaying with every movement, her emerald eyes locked on him. "You're trying to wield fragments of an element you weren't born with. Most would burn alive just attempting it. But you…"
Her fingers brushed the air inches from his chest, not touching, but close enough he could feel the heat radiating from her. "…you adapt. Quickly."
Riven didn't move. Didn't flinch. Just held her gaze, unshaken.
"Teach me," he said simply.
For a moment, silence. Then, her lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.
"Oh, darling… do you know how many men have begged me for that?"
Riven's smirk was cold. "I don't beg."
Her laughter rang out, rich and teasing. "Good. Keep it that way."
More growls echoed from the fog. This time, a pack of three wolves emerged, crimson eyes burning, bone spikes glinting.
Riven readied his knife, his other hand flexing, fire sparking faintly between his fingers.
"Show me again," Seraphina whispered, her voice silk and flame combined.
And so he did.
The wolves attacked together. Riven fought, blade flashing, fire sputtering and roaring as he forced his new power to obey. Each strike, each Devour, each desperate spark made him stronger, sharper.
But it was agony. His veins burned, his skin seared, his lungs ached from smoke that didn't exist. His body wasn't ready.
Yet he endured.
When the last wolf fell, its head wreathed in fire, Riven stood over the ashes, his chest heaving, his fists trembling. But his eyes burned cold and sharp, unwavering.
Seraphina watched, her emerald gaze unreadable for once. Slowly, she smiled, almost to herself.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Riven glanced at her. "Satisfied?"
She met his stare, her lips curving again into that dangerous, playful smile. "Not yet."
She stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly across his jaw — soft, but with the heat of flame behind it. "But you're getting there, Devourer. You might just be worth my time."
Riven's smirk was faint, cold. "Then don't waste mine."
Her laughter echoed again, sultry and amused, filling the fog.
As the mist thickened once more, the Gate pulsed, shadows stirring deeper within. Phase Two was only beginning. Stronger beasts awaited. Stronger trials.
And in the center of it all stood Riven Kael, Devourer, his fire spark flickering brighter with every stolen breath.
He was still weak. Still unrefined. But each step forward brought him closer to power that could shake the world.
And Seraphina Veyra — the scarlet flame herself — had decided to watch every step.