Riven shut down.
He bent forward, hands on his knees, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling violently. His energy was nearly empty—dangerously close to zero. Luckily, he'd managed to finish everyone off before it dropped completely.
Four energy.
That was all he had left.
Barely enough to stay standing.
He needed time. Time to recover.
The boy straightened slightly and exhaled, forcing his racing heart to calm. This felt like the right moment to check his stats—and the quest progress. Not that he cared about the quest itself.
To him, it was just a body count.
A way to see how many were left.
⸻
[System: Status Window — Riven Harlow]
Level: 14
Awakening: II
Evolved Ability: Lightning
Race: Feymir
XP: 2,724 / 3,690
Strength: 40
Speed: 46
Durability: 41
Energy: 4 / 41
Health: 42 / 42
⸻
Good thing I dumped all those stats into speed, Riven thought, wiping the sweat from his face.
Back when he'd been fighting Crow—after killing the man on the balcony—he'd finally leveled up. That had been part of the plan. Every stat point had gone straight into Speed.
Thanks to the Feymir race trait, every level-up boosted all stats by one.
Which meant speed had gone up twice per level.
On paper, two stat points didn't look like much.
But two points stacked on top of forty-plus speed?
That difference was hell itself.
After Crow's death, Riven had slaughtered the remaining members without pause—and in doing so, he'd leveled up four more times.
⸻
[System: Quest Progress]
149 / 150 Gang Members Eliminated
⸻
Riven straightened fully.
"Whoops," he muttered, accidentally kicking something as he rose.
He stepped outside the warehouse, scanning the area, wondering who—if anyone—was still alive.
That was when he saw him.
A man, battered and broken, barely standing. Blood soaked his clothes, and black ink clung to his body like living stains. He looked like he was moments away from collapsing—if not dying outright.
"Yo," Riven said casually as he walked over to Jordan and Darren.
"You done in there?" Jordan asked.
He hadn't doubted Riven for a second. Not now. Not after everything.
With their father's death fueling him, there was no way Riven would lose. No way he'd allow himself to.
"Wait—" Darren suddenly spoke, shock plastered across his face. "Where's Crow? And how are you even—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
As if on cue, Crow's lifeless head rolled out of the warehouse, tumbling across the ground until it stopped at Darren's feet.
That was when the fear truly set in.
"L-look—" Darren began, then stopped himself.
He knew it.
Say the wrong thing, and he'd die either way.
"Look… do you want the units?" he said instead.
Riven and Jordan both stiffened.
There was nothing sad about units tied to their father's death.
"What do you mean, do we want the units?" Jordan asked.
Small particles of ink rose from the ground around him, forming into dozens of razor-sharp daggers, all aimed at Darren.
"Didn't know…" Darren let out a weak laugh, immediately coughing and spitting blood. "Do you really think we'd try to kill your parents for free?"
He wheezed, forcing himself to continue.
"We had no beef with you. Or them. There was a hit."
"A hit?" Riven repeated sharply.
"Basically," Jordan said, voice cold, "there was a bounty on their heads."
But a question burned in his mind.
Mom and Dad didn't have enemies.
Not when they left.
So who would want them dead?
And whatever the price was—it had been high enough to make this gang try.
"Who did it?" Riven snapped.
Whoever it was mattered more than every man he'd just killed.
"We don't know," Darren said quickly. "It was anonymous. All we knew was the payout."
He swallowed hard.
"One hundred thousand units for the deaths of both of them."
The words barely finished leaving his mouth before Riven pulled a Level 5 beast weapon from his inventory and pressed it to Darren's throat.
"Show us where it is," Riven demanded.
Jordan lowered his hand.
The inky clone restraining Darren dissolved instantly, collapsing into a dark puddle before slipping back into the shadows. Jordan reached into his inventory and pulled out a small container, carefully gathering the remaining ink inside.
Darren collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. Blood dripped steadily onto the concrete beneath him.
He didn't resist.
He knew better.
Riven looked down at him and understood one thing immediately—Darren wouldn't even make it to wherever the Units were before bleeding out. With a quiet curse, Riven stepped forward and held out his hand, focusing what little energy he had left.
Not enough to fully heal.
Just enough to stop the bleeding.
Warm light seeped into Darren's wounds.
Darren's eyes widened.
"Healing…?" he muttered. "Wait. I thought his ability was lightning."
Realization struck him like a hammer.
"He's a dual evolver," Darren thought in horror. "No wonder Crow lost. He can heal himself too… not just others."
Riven grabbed Darren by the collar and forced him to his feet, shoving him forward.
"Walk."
They moved deeper into the warehouse.
As Darren stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat.
Bodies.
Everywhere.
Gang members lay scattered across the floor, blood pooled beneath them. Some were missing heads entirely, others had their throats torn open. The full force of Riven's rampage was laid bare.
"149 men…" Darren thought shakily. "This kid killed 149 people in one night."
His legs trembled.
"And if I don't play my cards right," he realized, "I'll be the 150th."
They reached a back room.
Hands shaking, Darren punched in a code to a hidden safe. It slid open with a soft click, revealing a single phone resting inside.
"Is this a joke?" Riven said coldly, pressing his sword to Darren's throat.
"Wait—wait!" Darren shouted. "We keep our money on one thing. That phone."
Jordan snatched it up, eyes scanning the screen.
"The password is 24983," Darren said quickly.
Jordan entered the code.
The screen lit up.
He navigated through the menus, then froze.
"…150,000 Units," Jordan read aloud, disbelief clear in his voice.
Riven frowned. "You said they gave you 100,000."
Darren swallowed. "We only got half. Only one parent was killed, so they paid half."
His gaze flicked to the blade hovering at his neck.
Why is it black? he wondered. This is definitely Crow's sword… but Crow's blade used to shimmer with color. Now it's nothing but pure black.
Jordan typed rapidly, changing the password before slipping the phone into his inventory.
"You make me sick," Jordan spat. "You did all this—killed my father—for fifty thousand. That's a lot of money, but it's not worth a life. Are you proud of yourself?"
"Look," Darren started, desperation creeping into his voice, "you kids will never get what—"
A black blade pierced straight through his neck.
Darren's head rolled across the floor.
Riven withdrew his sword calmly.
"Riven!" Jordan shouted. "What the fuck?! I was trying to see if he knew—if he was lying!"
"It doesn't matter," Riven said flatly. "He killed our father. Why hunt the rest today? We'll find them eventually."
He exhaled sharply, his vision swimming.
"I don't have much energy left. And during my fight with Crow, more backup is probably already on the way. We need to go. Now."
Riven glanced down at the black blade before sliding it into his inventory.
"This'll be more than a good replacement for Harkel," he thought. "After I broke his original one."
Without another word, he and Jordan turned and ran, disappearing into the night as fast as their bodies would allow.
"Man… what's going on?" one of the men muttered, yawning as he walked toward the warehouse.
"I don't know," another replied, rubbing his head with both hands. "Maybe this is some test Crow's putting us through."
"Yeah, but that guy sounded pretty scared," the first man said. "There's no way two people—especially kids—could—"
His words died in his throat.
His foot struck something solid.
Heavy.
He frowned and looked down, expecting to see a rock or a piece of debris.
Instead—
Crow's head stared back at him.
"What the hell?!" the man screamed, stumbling backward.
The group froze.
There were around one hundred and eighty of them—not the entire gang, but a massive portion of it. Every single one of them stared at the severed head lying at their feet.
"What the hell… is that Crow?" someone asked, voice shaking.
"Oh god," another whispered. "I think it is."
Panic erupted.
They rushed inside the warehouse, boots splashing through blood as the full extent of the chaos revealed itself. Bodies littered the floor, some missing heads, others sprawled unnaturally where they'd fallen.
"Check around!" one man shouted. "See if anyone's still alive!"
One of them broke off, heading toward the back room—the same one Darren had led Riven and Jordan into earlier.
The moment he stepped inside, his stomach dropped.
Darren's body lay on the floor.
His head rested nearby.
Blood pooled beneath him, dark and sticky.
The man rushed to the safe and threw it open.
The phone was gone.
"Darren, you mother—" he snarled, kicking the corpse over and over again. "Only people close to Crow knew the code. He must've given it to whoever did this. Damn it."
He stormed back out, fury boiling in his chest.
"Sir Finn!" a man ran up to him.
"What is it?" Finn snapped, already seething.
"They're all dead. No survivors," the man said hesitantly. "But we couldn't find Darren."
Finn stopped walking.
Slowly, he turned and gestured toward the back room.
"I found him for you."
A sharp headache throbbed behind his eyes.
"Do you want us to go after whoever did this?" the man asked. "They shouldn't be too far."
Finn spun on him.
"Are you an idiot?!" he roared. "We leave them alone."
The man stiffened.
"They killed both Darren and Crow," Finn continued. "With Crow's own sword."
The subordinate followed Finn's gaze and went pale.
"…Damn it," Finn muttered. "They took the sword too."
His jaw tightened.
"That means they knew it was a beast weapon. And that's even more reason to stay away." Finn exhaled sharply. "I still don't know how Crow even got that thing in the first place."
He straightened.
"We're leaving. Now. Unless you want us to end up just like them."
Finn turned toward the exit.
"Move out. Before the guards arrive."