Riven sat stiffly on the sofa, flanked by his parents. His fingers fidgeted with restless energy, twisting and untwisting in anxious loops as they waited for the arrival of the Beast Association's Veldora Branch Manager. The air felt heavy—thick with unspoken tension that seemed to seep from the very walls.
Then it came—a wave of pressure that slammed through the room, raising the hairs on Riven's arms. The weight of the presence was immense, vast and suffocating, bearing down on him like a tidal wave. Only the amber mana pulsing within his core kept him upright—barely.
He darted a look at his parents. They too felt it, though to a lesser degree, their rigid postures betraying the strain beneath their composed faces.
A sound cut through the pressure. Footsteps—steady, deliberate, echoing closer.
Riven's heartbeat quickened. Each step reverberated like a drumbeat until, at last, the grand double doors creaked open.
A man entered—not with ceremony, but with a calm confidence that filled the room regardless.
Riven's breath caught.
The first thing he noticed was the man's hair—long, silver strands threaded with streaks of red, green, yellow, and blue, like refracted light caught in motion. His coat followed the same motif of contradiction: military precision fused with regal artistry. The black fabric seemed to drink in the room's light, while fine silver accents traced the lapels and buttons that shimmered like stars.
Pinned neatly to his chest were several insignias that drew Riven's attention almost immediately. The first was a hexagonal emblem outlined twice in silver. Within its borders, a pattern of falling stars descended from the top, like fragments of a night sky frozen mid-descent. It was unmistakably a noble house crest—though Riven couldn't place which one. The double silver outline, however, said enough. It was the mark of a patriarch, the head of an entire noble line, not a mere branch family.
Next to it gleamed a circular insignia depicting a crowned griffin—emblem of the Beast Association. That crown wasn't decorative; it symbolized leadership. This man wasn't just a member of the Association—he was its Veldora Branch Head.
And then, Riven's gaze caught the final symbol—one that made his breath hitch. A sword pointing downward, flanked by two smaller blades and crowned at the hilt. His pulse quickened. That was no ordinary mark—it was the emblem of the Twelve Swords of Valoria, the kingdom's strongest and most noble protectors.
The man's features were youthful, no older than his mid-twenties, but his aura told a different story.
Riven's mind scrambled for context. His rank must be truly high. That explained everything—the timeless vitality, the quiet authority, the overwhelming pressure. High Rankers could live up to two centuries, though few reached such an age. Most met their end facing beasts of unimaginable power.
The man stepped fully into the room. Instinctively, Riven and his parents tried to rise—but couldn't.
An invisible force pinned them to their seats, gentle yet absolute. The air itself refused to let them stand.
The man raised a hand. Instantly, the pressure vanished. "None of that, please," he said lightly, his tone smooth and unassuming. "I came to meet you, so I am but a humble guest."
Riven's father recovered first, speaking with practiced courtesy. "Welcome to our home, Grand Sword Zephyr. It is an honor to have you here."
Zephyr smiled faintly and waved off the formality. Rather than sit on the couch, he lowered himself onto thin air, conjuring a seat of nothingness beneath him. "No, no—the pleasure is all mine," he said, his voice carrying an easy confidence as his silver hair caught the light.
Riven stared in awe. The man before him manipulated ambient mana as effortlessly as breathing. One the twelve swords indeed.
Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out: "Can I… see your bonded creature?"
Zephyr's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Of course."
His hair stirred as though caught in a phantom wind. The colored streaks began to glow, weaving into a spiral of living light. Mana thickened around them as the spiral widened, becoming a vortex. From within, an immense head emerged—dwarfing Riven completely.
The creature was magnificent. A fox, silver-furred, with nine crystalline eyes arranged in a crescent along its face. Each eye pulsed with a radiant hue, focusing on Riven with an otherworldly sharpness.
When it spoke, its voice was melodic and layered, carrying the timbre of a thousand tones. "Curious. Such a powerful beast I sense… yet I cannot locate it."
Its gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on Riven before the great head retreated. The vortex collapsed back into Zephyr's hair, the glowing strands settling neatly over his shoulders once more.
Riven could only stare.
Zephyr's voice broke the silence. "Now, child. Show me your hand."
Riven obeyed, extending his palm. Zephyr grasped it gently, and a surge of foreign mana flowed into him. It burrowed deep, heading straight for his core.
The amber mana stirred—snarling like a cornered beast. Waves of amber energy lashed out, but Zephyr's mana cut through them effortlessly, delving deeper into his soul space.
Minutes passed in strained silence. Then Zephyr released his hand, his expression unreadable." You are a unique case, indeed," he murmured.
He turned to Riven's parents. "Would you mind stepping outside? I need a word with your son alone."
They exchanged hesitant looks but complied, closing the door behind them.
Zephyr exhaled softly, a kaleidoscopic barrier of mana blooming around the room. "Two cores," he said, snapping his fingers. "And a bond large enough to swallow your entire soul. Care to explain?"
Riven swallowed and recounted everything—the battle, the strange surge of power, the beast. Zephyr listened quietly, his silver eyes narrowing in thought.
When Riven finished, Zephyr leaned back and laughed. "Fascinating! But no, I've got no answers for you."
Riven's heart sank. He'd hoped—prayed—for guidance.
Seeing his despair, Zephyr placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't lose hope. That amber mana of yours is extraordinary. Your soul may be strained, but it's not without room. Space can be made."
Riven blinked. "Really?"
Zephyr grinned, rising. "Come. Let's see what your mana is truly capable of."Without another word, he turned toward the courtyard, his coat trailing behind him like a streak of shadow and light. Riven followed, anticipation and unease mixing in his chest.
They arrived at the small arena Riven's father had built earlier that year. The air hummed faintly with residual mana.
Across the arena, Zephyr stood motionless—calm, unreadable, his silver eyes glinting with challenge.
Riven hesitated, then steadied himself. He dropped into a stance, spreading his feet, bending his knees, amber and pink mana flickering within him.
Zephyr waited silently, that same faint smile playing on his lips.
"Fine," Riven muttered. "I'll make the first move."
He inhaled, letting pink mana flow through his limbs at half output. Then he launched forward.
The world blurred—until Zephyr disappeared.
A sudden flash to his left—Riven's instincts screamed. A kick was already descending toward his skull.
Death loomed——but then his amber mana erupted, surging upward like a tidal wave.
The world slowed. The kick that should've crushed him became readable, almost graceful. Riven ducked beneath it and countered, driving an uppercut toward Zephyr's chin.
Zephyr vanished again, reappearing several meters away, clapping slowly. "Incredible," he said, amused. "That was the other mana, wasn't it?"
He raised a hand. Instantly, Riven's body locked in place.
His mana froze. Even the amber energy dimmed, struggling against the suffocating force pressing down on him.
His mana… it's so much stronger than mine.
Then came the spark—anger. Not his own, but something buried deep within the amber mana itself. It roared to life, pulsing with chaotic red streaks that tore through the suppression.
With a shattering boom, Zephyr's grip broke.
Riven moved again—slow steps becoming a sprint. The air trembled as he closed the distance.
Zephyr's grin widened. "Come, then."
Riven appeared before him and swung, his fist blazing orange. Zephyr caught it effortlessly, the ground cracking beneath their feet.
In an instant, Zephyr vanished once more, reappearing behind him with a chop aimed for his neck.
The amber mana reacted before Riven could. His body twisted, intercepting the strike. His knee shot upward, slamming into Zephyr's ribs——and did nothing.
It was like striking a mountain.
Zephyr met his gaze, silver eyes calm. "I like your spirit," he said. "But I've already seen what I needed to."
The amber light dimmed, retreating to Riven's core. His strength vanished, and exhaustion hit like a wave.
Zephyr stood unscathed, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. "You fight at the level of a fresh Rank Two," he said evenly. "Raw, unrefined—but impressive for one who has yet to even obtain rank 1."
After assessing Riven's combat ability, Zephyr folded his arms, his sharp gaze softening—just slightly.
"You may not be able to form bonds with beasts," he said, his tone measured, "but the power within your mana should more than compensate for that. From what I've sensed while probing it, there's still a fragment of space left—perhaps enough to bond with a creature of weaker bloodline."
He paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. "Regardless, don't despair. Climb the ranks. Grow stronger. This is a cruel world, Riven."
He turned for the exit, paused at the doorway, and glanced back with a half-smile. "Keep this to yourself," he said, casual but with ice under the words. "Bury your secrets — and if they ever leak, it won't end well for you."
A faint smile ghosted across his face before his body dissolved into thin air.
Riven stood frozen, heart pounding. Then his parents appeared beside him, their concern clear.
"Well?" his father asked quietly. "Any good news?"
Riven exhaled, his voice faint.
"I… don't know."