Riven didn't know what he expected after he clicked on Luka's card.
Whatever happened next definitely wasn't in his imagination.
A red glow shimmered from the entrance of the cave.
Both Harkel and Leo turned around instantly, sensing something wrong. When the two boys rushed deeper inside, Riven followed right after them, his heart pounding as he tried to figure out what he had just triggered.
As he entered the cave, he slowed near where they were standing.
Luka's body lay on the stone floor.
It was twitching violently—jerking in sharp, erratic motions, almost like a seizure.
"Shit, what's going on with him?" Harkel shouted, trying to hold Luka's arm down. But the movement was too frequent, too forceful, forcing him to pull back so he wouldn't hurt Luka even more.
"Luka, you hear me, dude?" Leo yelled, crouching down and trying to snap him out of it.
"Great," Harkel muttered, panic creeping into his voice. "I already got too much crap on my mind, and now this—"
"No. He's okay."
Harkel froze.
Riven had stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim cave light. He could see it clearly—Luka's health was rising. Slowly, but steadily.
"Use your Lock-On skill," Riven said calmly. "You should have it now."
"My what?" Harkel asked, confused.
But the moment he focused, a translucent screen appeared beside Luka's unconscious body. Bars of information flickered into place, Luka's health climbing upward before his eyes.
Leo activated his as well—and saw the same thing.
"Woah…" Leo murmured, holding his hands out as if he could touch the interface, swiping through the floating display. "What exactly did you do?"
"That's something I don't know myself," Riven replied honestly.
He didn't waste the moment.
They needed units.
"Alright," Riven said, his tone shifting as he took command. "Jordan and Joey are still out cold, and Luka's going through something. But we can't just sit here."
He pulled out the Rataclawin gauntlets, the metal catching the cave's red glow as he held them up for Harkel and Leo to see.
Riven explained the Shop Tab—how it worked, what it required, and the limitations that came with it. Then he laid out his plan.
"Two of us go to the dome and try to sell these," he said. "Some people should be awake—wanderers, early risers, whoever. If we sell now, we can actually make a profit. Once we're back at the academy, most people won't be able to afford beast weapons at full price."
The idea made sense.
But Harkel still had one concern.
"So basically," Harkel said slowly, "we still have to use beast gemstones to make the weapons."
Riven nodded.
"Yes. But the level four beast gemstones should more than make up for the ones we use. Our score will still be high—maybe not the top spot, but definitely strong."
Harkel didn't like it.
But he understood why it had to be done.
"…Fine," he said, his tone defeated.
"Good," Riven said, visibly excited.
He pulled out two motorbikes, placing them side by side. The engines hummed softly in the cave.
"Me and Harkel will head to the dome," Riven continued. "Leo, since you're the strongest right now, stay here and keep everyone safe."
"Wait—what?" Harkel asked, confused, as Riven grabbed his shoulder and shoved him onto the back bike before climbing onto the front seat himself.
"Leo," Riven added, "once everyone wakes up, take the bike back to the dome. It shouldn't take them long."
"Okay," Leo nodded.
Moments later, the engines roared to life, and the two bikes tore out of the cave.
⸻
They rode through the forest, weaving between towering trees and avoiding any beasts still roaming the area. Most of them were asleep—something Riven hadn't expected.
The entire concept of beasts was still new to him.
He hadn't thought they slept like regular people.
It would've been easy to kill them now.
But if nearby beasts heard the fight and rushed in, it would take too long—and there was no guarantee they'd escape.
Eventually, the dense forest thinned, giving way to clear terrain of orange-tinted rock and hardened dirt.
"So," Riven said as they slowed slightly, "you wanna talk about it?"
Harkel turned around, confused. "Talk about what?"
"I can tell something's eating you from the inside," Riven replied. "That's why I picked you instead of Leo. And now I wanna know—do you want to talk about it?"
Harkel knew exactly what he meant.
"It's nothing. Don't—"
Riven suddenly slammed the brakes.
The bike skidded hard, throwing Harkel off the back. He hit the dirt, rolling once before stopping.
When he looked up, he saw Riven slowly walking the bike back toward him.
"Don't you dare start that 'it's nothing' crap," Riven said flatly. "Get back on the bike. You're gonna tell me what's wrong."
"…Fine, Dad," Harkel muttered under his breath.
He climbed back on, turning his back to Riven as the engine roared again.
They took off.
"So," Riven said calmly, "what is it?"
"It's just…" Harkel hesitated, the words clearly hard to push out. "This whole thing is stupid, Riven. Did you even know who that guy back there was? Or what his uniform meant?"
Riven thought back—but nothing clicked. He shook his head.
"Of course you wouldn't," Harkel said bitterly. "You're a wallborn. You guys usually focus on your own faction. That insignia proved he was part of the Assassin Guild."
"Guild?" Riven echoed.
He'd heard the word plenty of times from people outside the walls—but never had the chance to ask.
"Yeah. Think of a guild as a smaller version of the four Great Factions," Harkel explained. "Just like factions and clans, guilds own planets. Usually they split costs with other guilds. They wipe those planets clean of beasts so they can keep all the gemstones for themselves."
He sighed.
"Most guilds answer to one of the four factions. But the Assassin Guild doesn't. They answer to no one."
Riven listened silently.
"They're built on assassins—nothing else," Harkel continued. "They take contracts. If the job isn't for killing, they won't take it. Which is why I know what you're thinking."
"And what's that?" Riven asked, glancing back at him.
"Did I have to kill him?"
Harkel met his eyes.
"And yeah. I did. It was either him or us. There's no in-between. If someone tries to take your life, you can't let them walk away. Because what's stopping them from coming back? Or going after someone you love?"
Riven stayed quiet.
"One day," Harkel said firmly, "you're going to have to make that decision too."
"I know," Riven said softly. "And I thank you for it. For saving our lives. For giving us another chance. For giving my parents another chance."
He took a breath.
"I don't know your whole story yet. But I know this game is our way out. A way for my family to stop scraping by. A way to give them a real life."
His voice hardened with resolve.
"If you ever need someone killed… I've got your back. For them."
Harkel heard it—the determination.
Riven wasn't doing this for himself.
He was doing it for what this game could bring.
A future.
"…But that's not the thing truly on your mind, is it?" Riven said quietly.
He saw straight through him.
Harkel sighed, knowing Riven had done exactly that. The boy had seen right through him, and honestly, Harkel didn't want to explain anymore.
"Long story short," Harkel said, rubbing his face, "no one knew the planet we'd be coming to hunt on. When it comes to portal travel, it can take at most two weeks, and at minimum five days. Remember, Riven—no one knew what planet this hunt would be on. one of the only people who knew were the citizens who lived here."
He paused, jaw tightening.
"But even they were cut off once they found out. All connections to the outside world were severed—no portals, no phones, nothing. There was no way to inform anyone. Hell, we only found out a few days before the hunt actually started."
Riven slowed the bike a little.
"There's someone in the Voss clan using underhanded means to win," Riven said, finishing Harkel's sentence.
"…Exactly," Harkel replied.
His voice dropped.
"Someone is trying to get people killed. There are three suspects. All three point to the same core issue."
He held up a finger.
"First—an elder is trying to push their child to victory by eliminating most of the competition. If that's true, then we're probably not the only ones who had an assassin sent after us."
A second finger rose.
"Second—a student participating in the game sent an assassin. But that doesn't fully add up. Contracts take about two days to complete, and they wouldn't even know which planet we'd be on until the last minute."
Then the third.
"And third—the elder and the student are working together. They both know exactly what they're doing. They're trying to knock out every remaining participant so they can be the last one standing."
Riven could see it from the corner of his eye.
Harkel was hurt by the realization.
"I'm sorry," Riven said quietly.
He didn't know why, but the words came out anyway.
"No, it's okay," Harkel replied. The hurt look on his face slowly faded. "Now that we know this, we can call a meeting. We can try to flush out whoever tried to assassinate us."
"A meeting?" Riven asked.
"Yes," Harkel said. "Each participant gets three meetings they can call. Either when a controversial moment happens or when a serious question needs to be addressed. This counts as a controversial moment. I have every right to call one."
Riven hummed, then picked up his pace slightly.
"Don't let this deter you," he said. "We need every single one of us at one hundred percent. That includes Leo—we need to talk to him too."
Riven glanced at Harkel.
"I'm sorry this is happening to you. But you said it yourself—our lives are in your hands. If you're like this, how can you protect us? Or protect the people you'll rule over one day?"
Harkel stopped wiping his face.
Tears finally slipped out.
One of his own family members was trying to kill him. Of course it hurt.
"…Right," Harkel said, his face puffy. "Thanks, Riven."
The black-and-green-haired boy turned back with a small smile.
"No problem."
After a while, the dome finally came into view.
Riven pushed the bike to its limit, the engine roaring as he tried to reach it as fast as possible. Just as they neared the edge of the safe zone, he suddenly slowed to a stop when a familiar translucent screen appeared before his eyes.
[System: Congratulations. Your party's strength has grown exponentially.]
Riven stiffened.
He stared at the message longer than he should have. The system had never congratulated him before—not once.
Before he could process it, another notification followed.
[System: Luka Thomas (Vladryne) — a bloodline sealed away for countless years — has awakened.]
That was all.
No explanation.
No additional data.
The system went silent, as if it had never appeared at all.
"…Bloodline?" Harkel asked slowly.
Riven turned toward him, shaking his head.
"I don't know," he said. "That's everything it showed me."
Before either of them could say more, the world seemed to shift.
⸻
"Is this all of them?" a man asked.
He wore a pristine military uniform, sharp and orderly, with insignias that carried quiet authority.
"Yes," a woman replied softly. She stood beside him with a clipboard tucked behind her back, her eyes briefly flicking over the group.
In front of them stood six students, each wearing the uniform that marked them as Wallborn—students of Sigil Gate Academy.
"Woah…" one of the kids whispered.
They weren't outdoors anymore.
They stood inside a massive laboratory. Towering metal frameworks stretched up toward the ceiling, cables glowing faintly as they pulsed with energy. Glass chambers, floating holographic screens, and unfamiliar machinery filled the room so completely that it felt less like a building and more like the inside of a machine designed to reshape life itself.
"So… what exactly are we doing here?" another student asked.
The man in uniform smiled.
"Oh, that's quite simple," he said calmly. "Each of you has demonstrated talent far beyond your peers. Because of that, we've decided to grant you all a very special reward."
Cheers erupted instantly.
Excitement spread through the group.
Pride.
Relief.
But none of the scientists joined in.
They watched in silence, their expressions tight and unreadable.
Doubt lingered in their eyes.
Concern followed close behind.
And beneath it all—
Pity.
Not for themselves.
But for the students standing in front of them.
Because after today…
These students would never be seen again.