Hearing the old woman's words, Riven remained silent, her eyes fixed on the ceramic pot being mended before her.
Just as Riven had noted, the pot had been shattered; even though it was healed now, the scars remained, serving as a testament to its previous broken state.
With this thought, Riven suddenly spoke up: "I came here... because I didn't know where else to go. Then, I was brought here by a man."
Looking at the old woman, Riven couldn't help but ask: "If I hadn't met that man, I might be fighting on this land for Noxus right now... just as I have done in so many other places. And now, all the glory and pride of my past life have been proven to be a joke, a lie. Can a crack like this ever truly heal?"
Hearing Riven's words, the old woman smiled and shook her head. "You have not harmed Ionia. We should not feel shame or disgrace for things that were 'meant' to happen but didn't. As for whether the crack can heal..."
Gazing at Riven, who looked back with an eager thirst for an answer, the old woman chuckled softly. "Did you forget what I just said? All things crave wholeness. A Tinker merely provides the material that the spirit of all things needs to repair itself."
As she spoke, the woman used her finger to deliver a clump of clay. Upon touching it, the pot—accompanied by the rhythm of the bells—absorbed the material into its jagged cracks.
Then, the old woman said gently: "Whether it can truly heal depends entirely on whether the soul of that thing wishes to return to wholeness."
Hearing this, Riven sat frozen in place for a long time. When she finally snapped back to reality, her eyes were filled with profound gratitude. "Thank you... this was vital to me."
"Do not thank me. You have simply met your true heart, haven't you?" The old woman smiled.
Riven said no more. She turned and left the dwelling, looking up at the still-azure sky. Although she had been in Ionia for some time, this was the first time she felt that the air and the environment were even better and clearer than she had previously perceived.
She exhaled a long breath. Though it was just a simple conversation, Riven felt as if her entire being had relaxed. It was like dropping a massive burden, or like her heart had finally resumed its beat; an internal lightness made her heart dance with joy. However, immediately after, Riven curled her lip and cast a look of pure disgust to the side.
Standing there with a beaming smile was none other than Faen, the man who had brought her to Ionia.
Previously, Riven's heart had been filled with inexplicable wandering and complexity. But now, meeting Faen's gaze, she felt incredibly at ease.
She walked up to him, first eyeing him with her usual disdain, before saying bluntly: "You bastard, you planned for this to happen all along, didn't you?"
Faen didn't deny it. He nodded and said, "More or less. Though I didn't expect it to happen this quickly."
Regarding whether Riven could see through her inner confusion, Faen didn't have 100% certainty, but he was at least 90% sure. Beyond the fact that Riven had similar reflections in her short story The Confession of a Broken Blade, it was also because while Ionia might be inferior to the nations of Valoran in other areas, no one in Runeterra could beat the Ionians at "psychological counseling."
It was no joke—the past few thousand years of Ionian history were essentially a history of counseling. And this wasn't just for individuals, but a continental-scale group therapy aimed at making people peaceful, relieved, and understanding to reduce conflicts in the Spirit Realm.
Admittedly, what just happened had a degree of randomness. After all, you don't just bump into a Tinker who is also a master of explaining and willing to help with mental blocks. But in Ionia, such elders existed in every village and even every caravan—this was the positive side of Ionian tradition.
And even if they hadn't met such a wise elder on the road, it didn't matter. Faen happened to know the wisest elder of them all, also known as the Enlightened One, Karma.
If even Karma couldn't solve it, Faen would have had to resort to other means—like high doses of the Joy Factor for drug-induced stimulation.
But looking at it now, such measures were unnecessary.
"How do you feel now?" Faen asked with curiosity.
"Excellent." Hearing this, Riven looked down at her palm. She opened and closed it, feeling the power surging within. She knew it wasn't just physical strength, but her own magic.
Although Riven didn't consider herself a "mage," according to Faen, she possessed the ability to convert willpower, fighting spirit, and battle intent into mana, releasing it through raw force and wind-slashes.
Faen was stronger than her and knew more than her, so what he said was likely true. Holding this simple thought, and as the power in her body continued to rise, a look of resolve flashed in Riven's eyes.
"Though it sounds strange to say, from a Noxian perspective, their war isn't 'wrong,' because they were born for war. Their entire civilization is a nation masquerading as an army." Saying this, Riven drew the Blackstone Greatsword from her back.
In the past, this represented glory. Recently, it had represented the shame of being deceived and the confusion regarding her future. But now, with that confusion cleared, the blade pointed Riven toward a new mission.
"But now, I am certain: Noxus is wrong. From top to bottom, they are wrong!" Gripping the greatsword, Riven clenched her fist. "I will put Noxus back on the right path! No matter the cost!!"
Speaking with total conviction, Riven cast a hot and resolute gaze at Faen. She immediately grabbed Faen's wrist and dragged him toward a nearby guest room.
"Move! Inside. Now!"
"Sister Riven, please, have mercy~" Faen didn't even bother with a symbolic struggle.