The ruins were quiet again.
Too quiet.
Riven's breathing rasped in his ears as he staggered deeper into the fog. His body screamed with every step, but his mind was sharper than ever — carved into steel by exhaustion and pain.
He needed a place to stop. Just for a while.
He passed through broken arches and hollow courtyards, every shadow feeling heavier than it should. The silence of the Gate was worse than any monster's roar. It pressed down, whispering of unseen eyes, of things waiting beyond the mist.
At last, he found it: the remains of a collapsed tower. Its stones had fallen into a jagged shelter, a hollow just wide enough for him to crawl inside.
Riven slid down against the wall, his knife still clenched tightly in his hand.
Only when his body finally gave out did he allow himself to close his eyes.
The hunger was waiting for him.
It throbbed in his veins like a second heartbeat, louder now that he was still. The mark on his arm glowed faintly in the dark, the cracks of crimson light seeping through his skin.
Riven gritted his teeth.
The chain he had forged earlier — the one that held the hunger back — was still there, faint but unyielding. He could feel it in his mind, like a lock on a door.
But the hunger pressed harder with every breath, testing the links.
Devour.
Always devour.
His stomach clenched. Not with ordinary hunger. But with a craving for essence, for life, for more.
He pressed his palm against the mark, forcing it still.
"No."
The hunger surged, angry, like a beast denied its kill.
The chain rattled but held.
Images from the vision flickered behind his eyelids: the shattered sky, the reflection of himself older, monstrous, divine. The whispers of colossi in the void.
Chain or be chained.
Riven's chest rose and fell with steady control. He thought of the survivors who had called him a monster. Of the way Seraphina's emerald eyes lingered on him, amused and curious.
They weren't wrong.
He was something else. Something dangerous.
But it would be him — not the hunger — who decided what he became.
A faint sound broke the silence.
Seraphina's voice, soft, almost bored.
"You're not sleeping."
Riven opened his eyes. She was sitting on a broken slab nearby, legs crossed, arms resting casually on her knees. The dim light caught her crimson hair, painting her in fire.
"Sleep's for the dead," he muttered.
Her lips curved in a smirk. "And yet you look half-dead already."
He said nothing.
Seraphina studied him for a while, her eyes glinting in the dark. Then she leaned back against the stone, her voice dropping lower.
"I saw the glow in your veins earlier. That wasn't just brute strength. The Gate spoke to you, didn't it?"
Riven's grip on his knife tightened.
He didn't answer.
Seraphina smiled faintly, as though his silence was an admission.
"Good. Secrets are worth more than lives in here. Keep yours close, little Devourer. The others won't forgive you for being different."
Riven leaned his head back against the stone. His eyes closed again, but his voice was cold.
"They already haven't."
The silence returned.
But this time, it wasn't empty.
It was a lull before the storm.
And Riven knew — the storm was coming soon.
The fog never truly slept.
Riven stirred at the faint scrape of steel on stone. His eyes snapped open, knife already in hand.
Shapes moved outside the hollow of the ruined tower — shadows too precise to be beasts. Human shadows.
He rose silently, his body still aching, hunger gnawing at his core.
The voices came first, hushed but urgent.
"…He's in there."
"…Are you sure?"
"I saw him crawl inside. The monster. If we kill him now—"
"Quiet!"
Riven's expression didn't change. His cold gaze flicked to Seraphina.
She was still sitting where she had been, her crimson hair spilling down like a curtain of fire. Her emerald eyes met his, gleaming with anticipation.
"Seems your friends have returned," she whispered, her voice dripping with amusement.
Riven said nothing.
The survivors stepped into view.
Five of them this time — the shield-bearer, the wild-eyed man, and three others armed with scavenged blades and jagged spears. Their faces were pale, drawn tight with fear and desperation.
The shield-bearer raised his arm, his voice trembling but loud.
"Come out, monster. Slowly."
Riven stepped forward. Not rushed, not hesitant. Calm, deliberate.
He emerged into the fog, the dim light catching the crimson cracks along his arm.
The survivors flinched.
The wild-eyed man snarled, forcing courage into his shaking voice.
"You see? Look at him! No human looks like that. He'll kill us all if we let him live."
The others murmured uneasily, shifting their grips on their weapons.
Riven's voice was cold, flat.
"You ran when the beasts came. You left others to die. Now you point your blades at me."
The shield-bearer's jaw clenched. "You're too dangerous. We can't risk it. The Gate doesn't just… give powers for free. You're cursed. If killing you means we live, then so be it."
Silence stretched.
Riven's grip on his knife tightened. The hunger stirred, eager, whispering.
Devour.
Take them. Take their fear, their strength.
The chain rattled.
But he held it.
His gaze remained steady, ice-cold.
"Then try."
The first to move was the wild-eyed man.
He screamed and lunged with his rusted blade, swinging wildly.
Riven sidestepped, his knife flashing. Steel met flesh. The man's scream cut short as he collapsed to the stones, blood spreading fast.
The others froze, shock plastered across their faces.
Riven's voice was calm, merciless.
"One down."
The shield-bearer roared, rushing forward with his dented shield. Two others followed, spears thrusting.
Riven moved like water, his exhaustion buried beneath instinct. He let the first spear glance off the shield-bearer's arm before driving his knife into the second attacker's throat.
Blood sprayed.
The last spear scraped his side, leaving a shallow cut. Riven turned with a cold glare, disarmed the survivor with brutal efficiency, and sent him sprawling to the ground.
The shield-bearer was left, his shield trembling in his grip.
Riven stepped forward, his knife dripping crimson.
The hunger surged.
Devour.
For a moment, Riven's vision blurred, the mark on his arm burning.
Then he forced it down, the chain clamping tight.
His voice cut the silence like a blade.
"Run."
The shield-bearer's breath hitched. His shield clattered to the ground as he stumbled backward, then turned and fled into the fog.
The corpses lay still around him.
Riven wiped his blade clean, his expression unreadable.
Behind him, Seraphina's laugh rang out, rich and amused.
"Cold as the grave. I like it."
Riven didn't answer. He stared into the fog where the shield-bearer had vanished, his voice barely above a whisper.
"This is only the beginning."