Riven stayed low.
The fight ahead dragged on — harsh, efficient. Lara didn't waste energy. Every movement was tight, practiced. Even bleeding, she moved like she'd done this a hundred times before.
But so did the mantis.
The Lesser Feral Sharpclaw towered to her waist. It darted and lunged in sharp, angular bursts, its blade arms carving arcs through the air, smashing into stone and trunk. It moved faster than the semi-feral Riven had fought — and smarter.
They circled each other. Careful. Calculated.
Blood had already soaked through the shoulder of Lara's torn sleeve. The mantis's carapace bore a long, splintered crack down its left foreleg, and one eye looked milky, like it had been struck earlier.
Neither side had the edge. Not yet.
Riven's grip tightened around the carapace blade. His knuckles went white.
She'll get more points for that one than I did.
With only three disciples here at the late stage of the Inner Essence Realm, just this kill alone could all but guarantee her a spot in the top sixteen. There couldn't be many others capable of handling a Lesser Feral solo.
Unless I get the kill.
The thought came unbidden. Sudden.
Not noble. But true.
Maybe he'd been affected by the atmosphere of the sect more than he cared to admit.
From everything he'd seen — and from what Elder Syen had hinted at — it seemed the spiders only tracked final hits, not damage dealt.
If I get it, I'm in.
His heart beat harder. He needed to be in the top sixteen. He needed to get to the city.
He needed to find his family.
He shifted slightly, judging distance.
And then — the moment came.
Lara struck hard. A sweeping glaive arc slammed into the mantis's shoulder, sending it stumbling sideways. Its stance crumpled. One blade dragged low, the other twitched to rise.
She lunged forward — poised to end it.
So did Riven.
He burst from the trees in a blur.
The wind rushed past his face. The faint blue glow of his Illuminating Stone pulsed under his robe.
Falconburst Kick.
Qi surged down his leg. The world snapped sharp his leg. Speed. Precision. Power.
The mantis turned — its remaining eye catching the blur of movement too late.
Riven's foot slammed into its side, knocking it off balance and violently clear of Lara's finishing strike.
She skidded to a halt mid-swing, eyes flaring in surprise — but Riven didn't look back.
He moved fast, boot hitting the ground, body twisting as he drove forward.
His carapace blade punched straight into the mantis's throat.
A wet, chitinous crunch. A twitch.
Then stillness.
"…What."
Lara's voice cut the clearing in half — sharp, stunned, livid.
Riven yanked the blade free, chest rising and falling. Qi pulsed faintly in his dantian — almost drained now. He turned to face her, just enough to see her expression.
Eyes wide.
Face pale with fury and blood loss.
She took one step forward, glaive still raised. "You—"
"I'm sorry," Riven said quickly, already backing away. "I need this kill."
She shouted something — a curse or a threat — but he didn't stay to hear the rest.
He vanished into the trees.
He didn't run because he was afraid.
Okay, maybe a little.
That girl looked livid.
But he ran mostly because there was no point.
Lara was strong. Late-stage Inner Essence Realm, clearly skilled. But she was wounded — and furious. If they fought now, he wouldn't walk away unscathed. Maybe neither of them would.
And there was nothing to gain from it.
The spiders had already seen who landed the final blow.
So he kept going — weaving between the trees, slipping through shadows, the faint blue glow of the Illuminating Stone still pulsing against his chest. Behind him, branches snapped. Footsteps chased.
Then stopped.
A few more angry curses echoed into the trees. But eventually, they quieted.
She'd realized what he had. She couldn't catch him, not like this — not while injured. Not while the trial was still going. Wandering the forest in that state was asking to be torn apart by the next Lesser Feral that stumbled across her.
Riven didn't slow until he was sure the sound had faded completely.
Only then did he stop — ducking under a low branch and sliding down against a tree trunk. His legs ached. His chest heaved. The earlier adrenaline now drained from his limbs, replaced by a faint, nagging soreness.
He closed his eyes briefly and reached inward.
Qi stirred in his dantian — faint, flickering. Just enough for one more Falconburst.
That was it.
He'd have to win every fight from here with his body, blade, and whatever advantage he could scrape together. And if he found another Lesser Feral…
He shook his head.
I'll think about it when it happens.
After a few minutes, he pushed back up, wiping the blood of the makeshift knife against the side of a bush. There was still time left in the trial. Still room to climb the kill board.
He moved forward again.
Deeper into the forest.
It was almost ten minutes later when he stopped again.
Not from sound. Not from instinct.
But from what lay ahead.
A body.
Sprawled across a patch of torn roots and crumpled ferns, arms twisted, neck bent at a crooked angle. Blood soaked into the moss around it, dull and dried.
Riven froze.
He stepped closer — slowly — heart beating harder with each step.
It was a disciple.
Mid-stage, just like him.
One of the others who'd boarded the beast earlier that morning. He remembered the face — not the name.
A quiet boy.