"So what if I killed them?"
The voice was cold. Calm. Carried just far enough to slice through the still forest air.
Riven froze.
It was a woman's voice — smooth, confident, with not even a hint of guilt.
Killed who?
He remembered the corpses he'd passed on his way here.
The blunt-force wounds. The cracked ribs. The smashed skulls.
Was she responsible for all of that?
He hesitated. Retreat? Put distance between himself and whoever this was?
Or get closer. Learn more.
He made his decision quickly.
The voice sounded young — roughly his age. She couldn't be too strong.
And even if she noticed him… he still had Extreme Speed unused. He could escape.
Information was worth the risk. That was one thing Vaern had made sure he remembered.
He crouched lower and moved forward. Slow. Careful. His boots silent on moss. Avoiding every dry twig. Slipping between trunks like a passing shadow.
"This is a demonic sect's trial. Not a charity. What did they expect?"
Her tone was steady. Unhurried. Not mocking — just… matter-of-fact.
Riven narrowed his eyes and slid closer. Branches swayed with the faintest breeze. Through the dense web-strewn underbrush, two figures came into view.
One stood tall, arms folded. High ponytail. Dark robes.
Sharp posture.
He recognized her immediately.
One of the three late-stage Inner Essence Realm disciples.
The other figure beside her was a boy — a little taller, shifting nervously.
"I just—" he began, voice low, strained. "I didn't think you'd actually go that far. Killing them just so I could—"
"You said you wanted the top-16 reward," the girl replied smoothly. "You said you were worried you wouldn't qualify."
"Yeah, but—!"
"You're welcome." She tilted her head. "No need to get all righteous now."
The boy fell silent. His fists tightened at his sides.
Riven stayed low behind a thick trunk, barely breathing.
"You'll thank me later," she added. "Once we're in the top sixteen."
"But if someone finds out—"
"They won't," she said, voice sharpening. "Unless you do something stupid. Like talk too loud."
The boy stiffened. Took a subtle step back. "…Right."
A long quiet stretched between them.
Then she exhaled — a slow, controlled breath.
"Go. We shouldn't be seen together too long anyway."
The boy hesitated before finally turning and slipping into the trees, throwing one uneasy glance over his shoulder.
Riven didn't move.
Now he knew why there were so many corpses.
But… he wasn't here to punish anyone.
He wasn't a righteous hero. Not even close.
He just wanted to find home.
And while he would never copy her strategy… it certainly helped him too. Fewer competitors. A clearer path to the top sixteen.
Riven shivered.
Had he fallen so low?
He barely felt anger. Barely felt anything about this situation. Just quiet calculation.
He didn't even care that much.
Maybe Vaern would've said that kind of care — that kind of outrage — was for the strong.
And Riven wasn't one of them.
But…
He wasn't sure he agreed with that.
He shook his head, forcing the thought away. Now wasn't the time.
He needed to move — before she noticed.
He began to quietly slide back, not wanting to get involved.
He'd taken two careful steps when—
"…Come out," the girl said.
Riven tensed.
Of course it wasn't that easy.
She wasn't even looking at him. But her head angled slightly, her gaze sweeping the exact section of trees he hid behind.
"You've been creeping around for two minutes," she said flatly. "You're not that quiet."
Riven remained low, silent.
She might just be bluffing—
"You think I'm stupid?" she said, answering his thought with eerie timing.
He went still.
"You think I'm just spouting air?" she continued.
She bent down, fingers closing around a small stone from the mossy ground.
"Get. Out. Here."
Her arm snapped forward—
The stone whistled through the air—
And Riven moved.
He ducked, twisting sharply aside as the stone tore through the leaves exactly where his head had been a heartbeat before.
The motion gave him away instantly.
Leaves shook. Branches parted.
And he was exposed.
The girl's eyes locked onto him at once — sharp, cold, evaluating.
"…Figures," she said. "Should've expected someone nosy."
She shifted her stance, feet sliding apart, pulling a long-handled tool? — from somewhere out of her robe.
Her slender fingers slid around the handle, giving her a firm grip on the small hammer.
Riven blinked.
That... looked odd.
A girl with a hammer?
Regardless he tightened his hand on his carapace-blade.
He'd seen the indents she'd left in other disciples heads.
Her voice fell to a flat murmur.
"Since you heard us… you won't be leaving."
Then she lunged.
Fast.
The hammer came down in a sharp arc — not a wide swing, but a tight, precise slam toward his shoulder, meant to break bone, not just bruise. Riven twisted aside, the iron edge catching the air where he'd just been. He kicked back, giving himself space — just enough to raise his weapon in time to deflect the follow-up blow.
She didn't slow down.
Each swing of her hammer was short, brutal, calculated. She didn't waste energy on wide arcs. Every motion was tight, efficient — like she was used to fighting in tight spaces, used to ending fights quickly.
Riven ducked beneath a crushing overhead strike and rolled to the side.
He was suddenly very glad for all the brutal combat drills Vaern had put him through.
Coming up on one knee he lashed out — his makeshift-blade slicing across her hip. A clean hit.
She grunted, turned, and the haft of the hammer caught him in the ribs.
The blow knocked the air from his lungs, sent him stumbling back. Pain flared, but nothing felt broken. Not yet.
They reset.
Circling. Breathing hard.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she studied him again.
"…Wait," she muttered. "I've seen you before."
Her gaze flicked across his robes — toward his golden tassel.
"You're that new core disciple," she said slowly, a flicker of recognition sharpening into something colder. "The weird one, with far too low a cultivation for his rank."
Her lips thinned.
For a second, she stopped to think. Her brow furrowed. Killing a core disciple might land her in trouble.
But then the moment passed.
She shifted again — deeper, firmer footing.
When her eyes lifted, there was no uncertainty left.
Just the look of someone who had already made up their mind.
No witnesses. No problems.
She came at him again.
This time the faint sheen of qi flickered on her hammer.
It was faster.
Harder.
No more hesitation. Every strike now aimed to end the fight in one hit — temple, heart, throat. The hammer wasn't clumsy in her hands. It was precise. Surgical. Made for murder. And she conserved no qi trying to amp her power.
He blocked the first attack — barely. The second skimmed his side. The third dented the earth where his head had been.
She was trying to kill him.
Not win. Kill.
And suddenly, Riven understood.
He'd lose.
Not because she was stronger — though she was.
But because she was committed.
And he wasn't.
He'd still been holding back. Still fighting not to cross that line.
But she'd already crossed it a long time ago.
If he didn't match her intent — she would kill him.
And no one would ever know.
Riven's breath caught. His hand tightened on the blade-limb.
He made up his mind.