The shards of light hovered above the beast's corpse, turning slowly in a hypnotic circle. Riven's breath caught. His pulse was still racing from the battle, adrenaline thrumming through his veins. For a moment, he wasn't sure if what he saw was real—or just his senses playing tricks on him.
Instinct took over. He blinked a few feet back, putting distance between himself and the Zeltrick's corpse, never taking his eyes off the glowing motes that drifted above it.
Tim and Jack looked up from where they were tending to Nyla. Jack's hand immediately went to his hammer."What happened?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he glanced from Riven to the carcass.
Riven didn't answer. He simply pointed at the beast's body, his gaze locked on the floating lights.
Tim and Jack followed his gesture, staring at the same spot for several tense seconds. Nothing. Then, slowly, they both relaxed, stepping back from their fighting stances.
"There's nothing there," Tim said, his voice steady but tired. "You're probably just still wired from the fight. Relax—there's nothing."
Riven frowned. Were they joking? Or could they really not see it? The shards shimmered right in front of him, vivid and impossible to miss. Not wanting to seem unhinged, he simply nodded."Yeah… maybe," he muttered, though he didn't believe a word of it.
As the others returned to checking Nyla, Riven cautiously approached the Zeltrick's body again. The lights seemed to respond to his nearness, their glow pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He watched them in silence, trying to make sense of what they were—essence? energy? something else entirely?
Then, suddenly, a strange pressure coiled around his mind. It wasn't a voice, but a pull—gentle, insistent, and impossible to ignore. His thoughts blurred, replaced by a single, overpowering urge: Touch it.
Riven's breath hitched as his body moved on its own. He tried to resist, but his limbs refused to obey. His arm lifted, trembling, reaching out toward the glowing fragments.
Before he could even register what was happening, his fingertips brushed the light.
In an instant, the shards flared brilliantly—blinding and alive. Then, like whispers dissolving into the wind, they shattered into a cascade of shimmering motes that spiraled toward him, sinking into his outstretched hand.
Riven jerked back, startled. "What's going on?" he muttered, inspecting his palm. His skin was unmarked, smooth, as though nothing had happened. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, half-convinced it had been a mirage. Am I imagining this?
Then came the pull—a sudden, undeniable tug at his consciousness. His soul space. Something inside it had changed.
He closed his eyes and focused, sinking inward. The world faded until only the vast, dark expanse of his soul remained, infinite and still. Everything seemed normal at first glance. But then he saw it.
Around the amber core, the shards from before orbited like tiny moons, glinting faintly in the darkness. Strands of essence—the slain beast's remnants—flowed through them in rhythmic pulses.
Riven frowned. That doesn't make sense. The essence should've been absorbed, not left floating like debris.
Worry pressed against his thoughts as he turned toward the pink core. Relief washed over him when he saw it glowing faintly stronger, no stray energy surrounding it.
Still, the amber core's anomaly nagged at him. He willed the shards closer, and they obeyed, drifting through the mist until they hovered before him.
Three shards in total.
Up close, they resembled small crystalline marbles, alive with swirling inner light. Two glimmered white, their depths shifting through subtle colors like sunlight refracting through glass. The third shone a vivid green, flecked with tiny multicolored sparks that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
When Riven reached out to touch one, his world exploded.
Memories—fragmented, alien—flooded his mind. He saw through another's eyes: a monstrous creature gathering shards from fallen beasts, arranging them into intricate patterns. One by one, the shards fused into a single, radiant orb crackling with power. Through that swirling maelstrom of mana and essence, a new creature was born—violent, magnificent, alive.
Riven's consciousness flickered, and in that same vision, he saw them clearly now—the marbles he somehow knew were called soul fragments. Information poured into his mind as if carved there by some unseen force. Each fragment's color represented its purity, just like how beasts were classified by the strength of their bloodlines.
The powerful being in the vision—towering, ancient, and incomprehensible—collected these soul fragments and began aligning them into complex geometric formations. The shapes varied—circles, triangles, spirals—but one constant remained: thirty fragments formed each complete pattern.
Sometimes, the creature used a single arrangement of thirty fragments; other times, multiple layered shapes interlocked to form far more intricate constructs. Riven realized that the quality of the fragments dictated the nature of the creation. The weaker, duller fragments could only form simple beasts. But when the being sought to forge something greater, it layered fragments of higher purity atop the lesser ones—thirty upon thirty—each tier building upon the last, like bricks in a living pyramid of power.
It was a process of creation through ascension, each layer strengthening the one below, shaping something both stable and alive.
The knowledge was not learned; it was implanted—etched into his mind as if it had always been there.
And then he saw it: a creature formed through this layered method. Unlike others born naturally into the world, this one shimmered with potential. It could evolve—truly evolve—its bloodline purity rising through the same process of layered soul fragments he had just witnessed.
The vision shattered. Riven gasped, clutching his head as his consciousness reeled. "What in the world… was that?" he whispered.
Before him, the soul shards resumed their gentle orbit, glowing faintly as though mocking his confusion. Now that Riven looked closer, he noticed their differences more clearly. Two of the fragments were a swirling blend of white and gray, their colors twisting around one another like living mist inside the marble. The third, however, was distinct—a mix of white and vibrant grassy green. It pulsed faintly, heavier and brighter than the rest, emanating a stronger presence that tugged at his senses.
Digging through the newly imprinted memories within his mind, understanding dawned on him. The two gray-white fragments were common in purity, while the green-white one was of a higher grade—uncommon.
Even as he realized what was happening, Riven couldn't help but feel mesmerized. Each motion, every flicker of light, pulled him deeper into its strange rhythm. He knew what he was doing—what the fragments were supposed to represent—but a part of him still doubted whether any of this was truly real. The calm, almost dreamlike atmosphere of his soul space only deepened that uncertainty.
Compelled by both curiosity and disbelief, he willed the fragments closer. They responded instantly, drifting into position before him. As they aligned, glowing lines of energy extended outward, connecting them into a delicate, web-like lattice. The formation shimmered, revealing thirty hollow slots—places meant to be filled by additional soul fragments.
From the implanted memories, Riven understood that he could alter the structure, shaping the lattice into different patterns. Yet as he watched, the two common fragments settled into place, occupying two of the thirty slots. The rest remained empty, the formation flickering as though straining to sustain itself.
A heartbeat later, the lattice destabilized and collapsed, dissolving into faint trails of light. The fragments drifted apart once more, resuming their slow orbit around the amber core. Riven didn't even try to fit the uncommon one—he already knew it wouldn't yield any results without the rest of its set.
Still, as he gazed at the fragments circling him, a quiet thought lingered in the back of his mind: Is this really happening… or am I just losing my grip on reality?
He opened his eyes.
The forest swam back into focus—then tilted. His legs gave out beneath him before he could even blink. A sharp throb pulsed through his skull as his vision flared white, his eyes burning as if he'd been staring straight into the sun. His body crashed to the ground, catching himself just in time with his knees and forearms. One hand clutched the side of his head as waves of dizziness rolled over him.
It felt like his brain had been fried—as though the flood of memories and visions he'd just experienced had scorched his very mind. Now that he was back in his physical body, the toll became painfully clear. Every muscle screamed in protest, his thoughts sluggish, his breath shallow. The aftershock of what he'd seen—the revelations, the power—had drained him to the bone.
"Riven!" Jack's voice cut through the haze, followed by hurried footsteps. In an instant, the others were at his side.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, crouching beside him, concern creasing his brow. "You were just standing there a second ago, totally still—and then you dropped! Are you hurt?"
Tim was already scanning him with a practiced eye, his expression calm but wary. "No visible injuries," he said, tone steady. "No wounds or burns, either. Physically, he's fine."
Riven forced himself to breathe, pushing the dizziness back. He didn't dare tell them the truth—mostly because even he didn't understand it. "I'm fine," he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to steady himself. "Guess the adrenaline finally wore off. My body's just… catching up. That fight took more out of me than I thought."
The group exchanged looks, skeptical but relieved. Jack offered his hand, helping Riven back to his feet.
"Well," Jack said with a grin that didn't quite mask his worry, "at least you didn't pass out mid-battle. That would've made for a story."
Riven managed a weak chuckle, brushing the dirt from his gloves. "Yeah. Still, can't complain. Between the essence we gathered and the materials, this turned out to be a good haul." He tried to sound casual, forcing the conversation away from himself.
Jack's grin widened. "Now that's the spirit."
Tim gave a rare smirk. "Wait until you see the payout for this one. All your fatigue will disappear."
Riven nodded faintly, his lips curling into a small, weary smile. "Can't wait."
But even as he said it, a part of him couldn't shake the lingering unease—the phantom ache in his head, the faint echo of those floating shards in his mind's eye. Something had changed. And though he couldn't explain it, he knew deep down this was only the beginning.
But then his gaze fell on the Zeltrick's carcass, and he frowned. "Uh… you think we might've smashed its core during the fight?"
Tim, usually calm and unreadable, narrowed his eyes. Even that tiny shift made the air feel heavier.
"No point guessing," Wendy said firmly. "Let's check."
Jack crouched beside the creature, drawing a short blade. Riven stepped back, watching as he sliced into the underbelly with precise, practiced motions.
Moments later, Jack grinned triumphantly. "Got it!"
He lifted a marble-sized orb glowing with pale blue light. It pulsed faintly, painting his features in soft luminescence.
"Would you look at that," Jack said, awe and pride mixing in his voice. "An undamaged uncommon core."
Riven's eyes widened. The gem seemed so small—too small to have powered something so fierce.
Jack chuckled, slipping it into a small metallic box. Then, to Riven's surprise, he tossed the box toward him. Riven caught it on instinct, eyes blinking in confusion.
Jack's smile turned knowing. "You know what the most dangerous part of adventuring is?"
Riven tilted his head, confused but answered anyways. "The monsters?"
Jack smirked, though the expression didn't reach his eyes. "Other adventurers. The scavengers who show up after the fight and steal the loot."
At the mention of scavengers, Riven's eyes narrowed. His father's warnings about such people echoed in his mind. Scavengers—that's what everyone called them—were the lowest kind of adventurers. Too weak to face monsters on their own, too cowardly to risk real danger, or simply too opportunistic to care about honor. They lurked in the shadows, waiting for others to finish the fight before swooping in to claim the spoils.
And they didn't always stop at theft. More often than not, scavengers slaughtered the weary victors, taking their loot, their supplies, and even their lives.
The memory of his father's grim stories stirred something in Riven—an ember of disgust that flared into anger. His grip tightened around the metal container in his arms until his knuckles whitened.
Still, one thought dulled the edge of his rage: scavengers rarely bothered with low-ranked parties like theirs. The risk of getting caught—or wasting effort on a few common or weakly pulsing monster cores—wasn't worth it. That small comfort eased the tension in his shoulders, if only a little.
"With your blink ability," Jack continued, "I'd rather the core stay with someone who can't be pickpocketed."
Riven raised an eyebrow. "What if I just ran off with it?"
Before Jack could answer, Nyla—leaning against a tree, her shoulder still bandaged—spoke softly."You could've blinked away and saved yourself, but you didn't. You stayed to help me. I can tell you're not the type to steal."
A faint smile tugged at her lips, soft yet teasing—almost flirtatious—as her gaze lingered on him a moment longer than necessary.
Riven's face slightly flushed, and he quickly looked away. Luna, perched on his shoulder, tilted her head as if amused.
Jack broke the silence with another hearty clap. "Then it's settled. You carry the core; I'll handle the skinning."
He and Tim went to work, carefully peeling the beast's thick hide—a slow, meticulous process.
Luna rubbed against Riven's cheek, purring. Her large amber and sapphire eyes sparkled in the light.
Riven smiled, reaching up to scratch behind Luna's ear. "You did well today," he said softly. Through their bond, he could sense a faint flicker of sadness—an undercurrent of inadequacy pulsing from her.
He let out a quiet breath and continued, his tone warm. "Even if you can't fight alongside me physically, your blink ability already helps me more than you realize." As he spoke, he pushed a wave of warmth and reassurance through their bond, letting her feel his genuine gratitude.
Luna blinked as if in agreement, then vanished in a soft shimmer, reappearing on a nearby branch to keep watch. Her tail swayed gently, golden light catching on her fur.
"Riven! We're done here—let's head out!" Jack called.
Riven pushed off from where he'd been leaning against a tree, brushing the bark dust from his sleeve as he prepared to move out. Nearby, Nyla—still close to Wendy—rose to her feet. Her movements were a little unsteady, the lingering pain in her shoulder making itself known, but she could walk well enough. Wendy stayed close beside her, ready to help if needed. Jack, meanwhile, secured the rolled pelt onto his back with a satisfied nod.
"Time to get home and celebrate," Tim declared.
They fell in line behind him as he pulled out the faintly glowing orb to guide them back toward the city. Luna blinked back onto Riven's shoulder, curling up with a soft purr.
"Guess all that watching wore you out," Riven murmured, stroking her gently. He followed the others through the darkening forest, his eyes scanning the shadows—half on guard, half lost in thought about the shards that now drifted quietly within his soul.