Yue Lin's fingers moved first.
Her hand slid down to her thigh, resting lightly on the hilt of her dagger. Not drawing it yet. Just feeling its presence. Grounding herself.
Her eyes didn't leave Riven's.
"Whoever loses submits," she said. Her voice was steady, but thinner than usual. "No resentment. So this damned ritual works. And at least one of us can survive."
The formation beneath their feet pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging the words.
Riven swallowed.
For a moment, he just looked at her hand on the knife.
Then at her face.
There was no mockery there. No teasing curve to her lips. Just resolve—and something fragile behind it.
"…Deal," he said.
Not loud.
Just tired.
The hum in the chamber deepened. The carved grooves along the floor flickered once, light threading through them like veins reacting to blood not yet spilled.
They both stepped back.
Not much.
Just enough to give space.
The distance felt unnatural after living chained together for so long.
They had fought side by side dozens of times. Moved in silent coordination through forests and bone-trees and desert winds.
Now they were seperated again—
Becoming each others prey.
But even so.
Even when they had agreed on this.
He just couldn't get himself to pull out his needles.
Yue Lin shifted to her right, dagger now in her hand. Her footwork was familiar—light, precise, economical. He'd seen it dozens of times from the side, from behind, from just within reach.
Now it was aimed at him.
The formation hummed.
He moved left.
Instinctively matching her rhythm.
They both knew how the other preferred to open a fight. Where the weight shifted before an attack. How breath changed half a second before a burst.
She stepped forward.
And his mind betrayed him.
The sway of her hair reminded him of how light caught her hair outside.
How they had shared a flask during the trial.
Her smile when she caught him staring.
His reaction lagged.
Just slightly.
But she saw it.
Her jaw tightened.
But she didn't stop.
She couldn't afford to go easy.
The dagger flashed upward in a clean diagonal arc.
Riven jerked back on instinct, the blade grazing fabric, missing flesh by a breath.
She stepped in immediately, not giving him time to reset.
Second strike.
Lower.
Faster.
This time he wasn't quick enough.
The blade cut deep across his left chest.
White-hot pain tore through him.
His breath left in a sharp, involuntary gasp as blood soaked into his torn robes.
He staggered back, one hand flying to the wound.
Yue Lin didn't press.
Her eyes looked hurt.
I'm the one who's wounded...
But no matter how she'd steeled herself, she also still wasn't fully ready for this.
Not able to immediately follow up with a finishing blow.
Riven's fingers pressed against his chest.
They came away red.
Thick.
Warm.
The grey qi had bitten deeper than a normal blade ever could. The cut stretched from just below his collarbone diagonally across his left pectoral, carving toward his ribs. It would scar. He knew that instantly.
Blood slid down his side in steady lines, soaking into his waistband.
For a heartbeat, the chamber seemed too quiet.
Too still.
He could hear his own pulse.
Feel it in the wound.
That hadn't been a warning strike.
That had been clean.
Precise.
Lethal—if she'd angled it a little deeper.
His breath trembled once.
She really could have killed him.
Yue Lin stood a few paces away, dagger still raised.
Her knuckles were pale around the hilt.
She hadn't followed up.
But she hadn't dropped her guard either.
Her eyes flicked to the blood on his hand.
Something in her expression cracked—
Just for a second.
Then she forced it down.
The formation beneath them pulsed.
[00:24:13]
Riven looked at the red staining his fingers.
Then at her.
This wasn't symbolic.
This wasn't some distant ritual.
He had almost died.
If I don't fight properly… I really will.
The thought settled in his chest.
His hand dropped from the wound.
Slowly.
His breathing evened out.
A younger girls face flashed in front of his eyes.
His sister.
When he looked up again, something had changed.
The softness was gone.
Replaced by clarity.
"…Okay," he murmured.
And this time—
He reached for his needles.
Steel touched skin.
Yue Lin saw it.
Her eyes sharpened, the little hesitation vanishing instantly.
Before he could even flick his wrist, she moved.
Not back.
Forward.
Closing the distance in two swift steps, cutting inside the comfortable arc he needed to throw cleanly.
Smart.
Too smart.
She'd watched him use those needles for months. Seen the angle of his shoulder before he released. The minute shift in his fingers.
She wasn't going to give him that space.
Her dagger thrust straight for his wrist.
Riven jerked back, barely avoiding the stab, but the motion ruined his angle. The needle remained between his fingers—unused.
She pressed.
No hesitation now.
Short, economical slashes. Not wide arcs. Not flashy movements. Tight cuts meant to open arteries, tendons, the throat.
He dodged.
He knew he couldn't block it, well aware of the sharpness of her attacks.
Especially considering he had no weapon to parry with either.
She drove him backward across the formation lines, never giving him more than half a step of distance. Each time his arm twitched to throw—
She was there.
Inside his reach.
Her shoulder nearly brushing his chest.
Her knee slamming toward his thigh.
Her dagger angling for the wound she'd already made.
Blood loss slowed him.
He tried to disengage—
She anticipated it.
Foot hooking his ankle.
Blade flashing toward his throat.
He twisted at the last instant. The tip carved a shallow line along his jaw instead of sinking deep.
Too close.
Way too close.
Her breathing was controlled.
Measured.
She wasn't frantic anymore.
She was fighting to win.
And right now—
She had the advantage.
Her blade came again.
Low.
Precise.
Aiming to open the wound she'd already made across his chest.
Riven dodged backwards, already having given up on using his needles.
And saw it.
Not a mistake.
Not hesitation.
Just the smallest imbalance in her footing as she adjusted to stay inside his throwing range.
A fraction.
An opening that wouldn't exist again.
He didn't think.
He moved.
Divine Speed.
The world stretched.
The hum of the formation dropped into a distant, muffled thrum. The ticking slowed into hollow, spaced beats.
Yue Lin's eyes widened.
That was what she had been most scared about.
That weird burst of speed, Riven had shown only once before, the moment they'd ecaped from the Greater Feral Gale Scorpion.
But it didn't matter if she'd kept it in mind.
With how close they were in this fight, she couldn't find the time to react.
Riven stepped through her guard.
Appeared where he hadn't been a heartbeat ago.
The needle dropped as his fist drove forward, qi surging through muscle already strengthened by his bloodline.
It struck her abdomen.
Solid.
Devastating.
The impact folded her.
She didn't have the resilience of the stags they'd fought together.
One solid hit was enough for her.
Air left her lungs in a broken gasp. The dagger flew from her hand, skittering across stone.
Time snapped back into place.
She was thrown backward, body lifting off her feet before crashing hard against the walls.
She didn't rise.
Riven stood frozen, arm still extended.
His fist trembled.
He hadn't held back.
He'd known he couldn't.
If he missed this chance, he wouldn't live to find another.
Across the chamber, Yue Lin struggled to draw breath. A faint, wet sound escaped her throat. No scream. No curse.
Just air that wouldn't come properly.
Blood darkened the corner of her lips.
"In the end... I just couldn't do anything about that..." Her voice trailed off.
Riven lowered his hand slowly.
Looked at it.
At the faint smear of red across his knuckles.
Then at her.
The murals in the tunnel flashed in his mind.
The man.
The woman on stone.
The raised blade.
His gaze shifted.
The dagger lay a few steps away.
He walked to it.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
The formation's grooves glowed brighter beneath his feet, as if sensing completion drawing near.
He picked up the knife.
Turned.
Walked back.
Yue Lin lay against the carved stone, breathing shallow. Her red dress had darkened further where internal damage bled through.
Her eyes found him.
Clear.
No hatred.
No accusation.
He stopped in front of her.
For a brief, suspended moment—
The image was complete.
Him standing above her.
Blade in hand.
Just like the mural.
"Do it fast," she whispered.
His grip tightened.
He didn't move.
Her gaze hardened slightly.
"Or sacrifice yourself."
The words struck deeper than her blade had.
There was no choice.
Tears blurred his vision.
"I'm sorry," he breathed.
A small smile flickered across her lips.
"If you ever see my master in trouble…" she murmured, voice thinning, "…help her out."
He swallowed.
"…Of course."
He knelt.
Lowered the blade to her throat.
For a heartbeat, he couldn't push.
Then—
He did.
The knife descended.
Simple.
Clean.
Her body tensed once.
Then relaxed.
The formation below ignited.
Red light surged through every carved groove, brilliant and blinding. Warm liquid filled the channels as her blood flowed into the sigils.
The hum became a roar.
Yue Lin's lips curved faintly—
Just before stillness took her completely.
And Riven remained kneeling above her,
Bathed in red light.