Hawkeyed, Riven stood still, watching Roman, every nerve wired in anticipation. I can't mistime it. The numbness in his left arm crept steadily onward, and the weight of the sword construct dragged heavier with each breath. The burn in his muscles worsened, like molten lead was threading through his veins. Just as he thought he might not be able to hold on any longer, Roman moved.
The ground beneath him cracked, spider webbing underfoot as his body blurred forward with impossible speed. His greatsword—now wreathed in seething red energy—slashed upward in a brutal arc aimed at the lower half of the Quakefang's massive, angular head. The beast, still dazed and distracted, couldn't react in time.
The blade landed with a deafening boom, like a thunderclap exploding inches from Riven's ears. The force shook the air. The monster's thick, stone-like scales shattered under the hit, splintering into brittle shards that disintegrated under the pressure of the red energy. The attack carved deep—straight through its layered hide—tearing a jagged wound from which a fountain of glowing crimson blood erupted, splattering against the stone below.
The Quakefang reeled, screeching in agony, its massive frame rocking backward from the blow. Roman crashed down hard a few meters from it, his blade hitting the ground with a dull clang. He dropped to one knee, chest heaving, face pale—utterly spent. His eyes found Riven, and with a raw edge in his voice, he shouted, "Now!"
Riven didn't hesitate.
He forced his stiff, burning body forward, biting down the pain, and activated Blink. In a blink—literally—he crossed half the distance. Another blink carried him to the monster's side. His boots splashed through the growing puddles of blood as the air thickened with the sharp metallic tang.
Adjusting his grip on the blade, Riven brought it forward, holding it like a colossal dagger. The energy pulsing through it made his fingers tremble. One last breath—shaky, ragged—and he locked eyes on the wound Roman had left. Just above it. Just right.
His third Blink launched him into the air above the beast. Gravity seized him instantly, dragging him down with lethal force.
Perfect.
He drove the construct down with all the power of his fall. The massive blade plunged deep into the monster's wound, half of it sinking in with a sickening crunch that vibrated up Riven's bones. A grim, satisfied smile tugged at his lips as the Quakefang loosed a screech that rattled the rubble around them.
The beast thrashed wildly in rage and pain, the ground trembling with each movement. Riven clung to the weapon for a heartbeat longer—until the shaking forced his grip loose. The moment his hand slipped free, the unstable mana surrounding the construct unraveled like a snapped tether.
Still smiling, Riven turned away, blinked once more—and vanished.
The moment Riven reappeared mid-air, just a few meters from the beast, an intense wave of heat slammed into his back. He screamed in pain as it scalded through his leather armor and licked at his skin. Blinking tears from his eyes, the sky above him ignited—brighter than a thousand suns—as if the heavens themselves had detonated.
For a heartbeat, the world vanished into pure white. Then came the deafening sonic boom, a concussive force that struck his body like a hammer and tore the grin from his face. Panic surged through him. Without thinking, he activated another blink, desperate to escape—anywhere, so long as it was away.
He hit the ground hard, momentum from the blast launching him into a tumble across the fractured earth. Dirt scraped at his limbs, and sharp cracks ran through his ears as a high-pitched ringing overtook all sound. He rolled to a halt, groaning, his eyes still squeezed shut, the world spinning.
Warmth began to trail from his ears. Blood. He knelt on the scorched ground, bracing himself as gusts of wind, hot ash, and razor-like debris battered his body. The very air was warped—superheated, thick with smoke and grit that clung to his throat with every breath.
When the worst of it passed, Riven forced his eyes open. He needed to see what had become of his attack. But even though the initial flash had long since faded, all he could register was white. No shadows, no shapes—just blinding, empty light.
He blinked furiously. Nothing. His ears picked up no sound save for the constant, shrill hum drowning out everything else.
Blind. Deaf.
Riven stayed still, waiting it out, his breaths shallow and chest tight with dread. Please let it have been enough. Let that explosion have done something—anything.
Because if it hadn't… they were already dead.
Riven couldn't tell how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? It felt like forever. But slowly, the blinding white faded from his vision, retreating like mist under the sun. Shapes began to emerge—fuzzy outlines at first, murky shadows shifting at the edges of his awareness.
As more of his sight returned, he turned toward the explosion's epicenter, blinking against the lingering brightness, searching desperately for the beast—or at the very least, its remains.
In the distance, a figure stumbled forward, dragging something behind him. The distinct silhouette of a massive greatsword scraped along the ground, and it took Riven less than a heartbeat to recognize Roman.
He squinted, trying to gauge where Roman was heading. That's when he saw it—a hulking form slumped in the distance, like a chunk of jagged landscape. At first, it resembled nothing more than a massive, uneven stone. But as color bled back into Riven's world—more than just whites, greys, and blacks—he realized what it truly was.
The beast. Coiled in on itself, its body now resembled a collapsed boulder—lifeless and still.
Riven's gaze snapped back to Roman just in time to see him closing the final steps, raising the greatsword high above his head. The blade angled downward, and with a single, deliberate motion—gravity and exhaustion lending weight—he brought it down.
The metal sank deep into what had to be the creature's skull. For a moment, nothing. Then, a sharp burst of crimson spurted from the wound, splashing against the cracked earth. The beast's massive form twitched violently once… twice…
Then nothing. Limp. Still.
It was over.
Riven exhaled, only now realizing he'd been holding his breath. Relief poured through him like cool water down scorched skin. But then came something else—hot, tingling, rising from deep within his chest.
A wave of warmth and power—surging, burning, invigorating.
The beast's essence.
Closing his eyes, Riven blinked into his inner sanctum, the space where both of his cores floated—glowing, alive, and pulsating with light of varying intensity. The air shimmered with a thick, green-tinted mist, veiling the space in an eerie haze. Threads of pink and amber light flickered through it, weaving like lazy fireflies caught in a slow-motion storm.
It took him a moment to recognize what he was seeing. Since he'd never absorbed essence of this caliber before, the realization hit slow and heavy—the mist was the essence. And both of his cores were greedily sucking it in, pulling the vibrant energy into themselves as they prepared for the next leap in power.
He drifted closer, the glow of the cores warming his skin. They were nearly full, bloated with essence to the point of bursting. A crooked smirk tugged at his lips, and before he knew it, he was laughing.
"These past few days have been absolute hell," he said aloud, voice echoing faintly in the mist, laced with hysteria and raw adrenaline. "But hey, I ascended two entire ranks. That alone usually takes a hunter at least a year of slogging through rank zero and one beasts… without backing."
The laughter rattled out of him, manic and unrestrained, fueled by the essence still coursing through his veins like fire and thunder.
Eventually, it faded, leaving behind a calm—brittle, but real.
He turned his attention back to the mist. It was still thick, still swirling, still being slowly pulled into the cores. Not fast enough for a rank-up just yet. It'd take time. Maybe hours. Maybe a whole day.
Hard to tell.
The last time he'd ranked up, he'd been unconscious for who-knows-how-long, drained of mana and half-dead.
So yeah. He had no idea on how long it would take.