The street was silent, save for the wet, ragged breathing of the man Asm had dismantled. He lay on the cracked asphalt, a living anatomy lesson. Asm had opened him with surgical precision—his stomach split wide, the inner workings of a human being exposed to the cool night air. Yet, nothing had spilled. No life had drained away. It was a masterpiece of agony; a body suspended in a state where death was denied entry.
The man's eyes were wide, unfocused, and vibrating in their sockets. He tried to scream, but the air in his lungs seemed to freeze before it could reach his throat.
Riven stood over him, the flickering streetlights casting long, distorted shadows. He started laughing—a jagged, high-pitched sound that grated against the silence.
"Why leave him alive?" Riven asked, wiping a tear of amusement from his eye. He looked at the man as if he were a broken toy. "Don't you think he's suffered enough? Or are you starting a collection?"
Asm's gaze snapped to him, piercing and cold. "I think you have a mental issue," he said, his voice a low, deadly crawl. "Because you were the one who told me you wanted him left alive. I was just following your 'expert' advice."
Riven waved a hand dismissively, his grin never wavering. "I know, I know. Can't you take a little joke, Asm? You're so stiff." He leaned closer to the dying man. "Let's leave him. He won't make it past morning. The crows will have a feast before the sun hits the horizon."
Asm's eyes narrowed. He scanned the surrounding buildings, his senses picking up the tell-tale hum of surveillance. "The Agency is already breathing down Nyra's neck. They visit her house constantly just to keep tabs on me. They see me as a 'troubled youth,' not a killer. We can't leave proof of what we are."
Riven tilted his head, genuinely curious. "If they suspect you, why do they keep playing house? Why do they visit you with groceries and fake smiles?"
Asm's hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. A flicker of raw anger flashed in his eyes, the air around him beginning to distort with the weight of a coming tantrum. "It's because of that useless Hero... she... she made sure they stayed close. She thinks she's protecting me."
Riven felt the temperature drop and the pressure in the air spike. He quickly stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Never mind, never mind! No need to explain. I'm not looking to get erased tonight."
Without another word, Riven flexed his fingers. Orange-white flames licked up from his palms. He tossed a casual spark onto the man on the ground. The fire didn't just burn; it consumed. It was a hungry, magical heat that turned flesh and bone into gray dust in seconds. There was no scream. There was nothing left to produce sound.
The body collapsed into a pile of ash and drifting smoke. Riven let the fire die out, wiping his hands on his trousers just as the low, electric hum of an engine grew louder.
The Chariot of the Beast
A sleek, stainless-steel Tesla Cybertruck rounded the corner, its angular frame looking like a low-resolution glitch in reality. It hissed to a stop, the passenger doors sliding open with a mechanical whine. A butler in a crisp, black suit stepped out and bowed.
"Come in, young master," the butler said, his voice devoid of emotion.
Asm stared at the massive, blocky vehicle, one eyebrow raised in genuine judgment. "Is that supposed to be a minibus... or a military vehicle?"
Riven chuckled, clapping Asm on the back. "It's a statement, Asm! It says 'I have too much money and I don't care about aerodynamics.' Get in."
They disappeared into the armored interior, leaving nothing behind but a scorched patch of asphalt and the smell of ozone.
The Mad King's Manor
After dropping Asm off at Nyra's quiet, tense home, Riven headed toward his own domain. His mansion didn't just sit on the land; it dominated it. It was a sprawling Gothic fortress of dark stone, with towering columns that felt like the ribs of a giant. Perfectly manicured gardens lined the driveway, lit by pale lights that made the shadows of the hedges dance like living things.
Gargoyle statues perched on the eaves, their stone eyes tracking Riven's movement as he stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the foyer was a cathedral of wealth. Two lines of maids stood perfectly aligned, their hands clasped and heads bowed.
"Good evening, Master," they spoke in a singular, haunting unison.
Riven didn't blink. He didn't even look at them. "You may be dismissed," he said, his voice echoing off the marble floors. They retreated like ghosts.
Riven walked into the main living area, his eyes immediately scanning his "special collection." He stopped. A space on the wall—usually occupied by a priceless, ancient vase kept behind reinforced glass—was empty.
He turned to his head butler, who stood a few paces behind. "What happened to my special vase?" Riven's voice was dangerously calm.
The butler bowed, his voice steady. "I wanted to clean it, sir. I felt the dust was an insult to the collection... but I messed up. It shattered."
Riven blinked, a look of genuine confusion crossing his face. "Cleaning it? So... what is a butler doing a maid's work for?"
Before the butler could even offer an apology, the man's body erupted into flames. He became a living torch, screaming in absolute agony as the fire consumed him. Riven watched with cold, detached curiosity, unmoved by the sound.
He turned to a nearby guard. "Dispose of him. And don't even think about putting the fire out. I like the light."
The guard froze, his face pale with terror. But before the tension could snap, Riven's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.
Asm.
"Oh? What does he want now?" Riven muttered, a dark grin forming. He signaled to another servant. "Prepare the secondary car. I'm leaving."
He looked back at the terrified guard, his voice dropping to a low, deadly whisper. "You got lucky. The guest of honor called."
Riven turned and strode out, locking the heavy doors behind him, leaving the guard alone with the charred remains. The guard let out a shaky, sobbing sigh of relief and scrambled for a fire extinguisher, desperate to clean the mess before Riven returned.
But the wall didn't just break; it exploded.
Riven burst back into the room through the masonry, bricks flying like shrapnel. He looked like a nightmare made of flesh and fury. Before the guard could react, Riven's fist connected with his chest. The guard flew across the room, smashing into a stone pillar with a sickening crunch.
"Never try to disobey me again," Riven spat, looking down at the broken, terrified man.
Without a second glance, Riven stepped back out through the hole in his own house and headed for the car.