Riven dusted his hands, casually flipping the grimoire shut with a soft thud. The ocean beneath him didn't ripple. The moon above pulsed like a watching eye. He looked up at the vast canopy, its silence older than memory.
"That aside…" he muttered, stepping into the glow of the moonlight, "what do you want me to do, lil' old tree?"
The leaves rustled like laughter in slow motion.
"You never answered my damn question," Riven added, pointing. "Why do you test people every ten thousand years? What's the point of dragging poor souls into that death trap? And that man—who was he? The one who gave me this cursed grimoire. You called him the previous holder of this place."
There was a long, ancient pause.
Then the voice returned—richer now, heavier, as if it had shed a mask.
"I cannot speak of him," it said, with an unplaceable sadness. "She forbade it."
"She?" Riven raised an eyebrow. "Oh great. Now we've got she-who-must-not-be-named involved."
"You will not find him through me," the voice said, ignoring the sarcasm. "He gave you the book because he chose you. Not I. His reasons… are his own."
"So basically," Riven muttered, "I get the homework and none of the answers."
The voice hummed with a smile hidden in the wind. "If you wish to know him—seek him yourself. But do not expect me to reveal his truth."
"And the Ten-Thousand-Year curse?" Riven pushed. "Why you pick people and let them die?"
"You are worthy," the voice replied, "but not worthy enough—not yet. One day, I will tell you. When you are ready. When you understand pain deeper than survival. But first…"
The voice grew lower.
"Save your world. The invaders have begun their march again."
Riven blinked.
"My world?" he repeated. "Wait. What do you mean my world? This isn't yours?"
The pressure shifted instantly.
The skies seemed to darken. The stars above blinked once—and vanished. The ocean below went black. The very space groaned like an ancient beast waking.
"Where… are we?" Riven asked.
"This place," the voice answered, "is not of your world. Nor mine. It exists beyond planes. Beyond stars. Beyond comprehension. This realm is a sanctuary, a crucible, a memory… a whisper."
Riven frowned. "You're dodging again. What even is this place?"
A pause.
Then came the pressure—heavy, bone-deep, godlike.
"I answer only what you are ready to hear."
A gust of force slammed into him—not wind, but truth. Riven gritted his teeth as it pressed against his body, like the weight of every dead trial soul stacked upon his back.
He winced.
"Ghh… guess you are the World Tree after all," he muttered.
Then paused.
Brows furrowing. Something clicked.
"…Wait. Actually…" His gaze sharpened. "No. You're not the World Tree, are you?"
The voice stilled.
"…What makes you say that?"
"You're too… smug," Riven said, arms crossed. "Too playful. You act like the world's a riddle and everyone else is just too dumb to solve it. And this pressure—it's not from a tree. It's something far bigger."
The leaves above froze.
And then—
A laugh.
Deep. Echoing. Almost proud.
"…I didn't expect you to see it so quickly," the voice said. "Clever child. Cleverer than most."
"So I'm right," Riven said. "You're not the tree. What are you?"
The realm pulsed.
"I am not in this realm, Riven," the voice said. "I am this realm."
Riven's eyes widened.
"The World Tree… is but a branch. A splinter. A tiny part of me extended into your world to watch, to wait, to test."
He took a step back, half in awe, half in disbelief. "So… if the World Tree is just a branch… then who are you?"
The voice responded with a chuckle so old it felt like the beginning of time was laughing.
"I am the one even gods fear to name," it said. "The Architect of this Sanctuary. The First Realmwalker. The Dreamer of Dimensions."
Riven blinked.
"…Okay. I was just asking for a name, not your résumé."
The pressure eased slightly, amused.
"You may call me what few have dared: Myrr'danthal—The Eternal Grove."
Riven nodded slowly.
"Okay, Myrr'danthal. Let me get this straight. You're the father of the World Tree?"
"I suppose… in the way the sun is the father of a spark."
Riven whistled.
"Damn. No offense, but I think your kid's got some serious abandonment issues."
The sky shimmered with quiet laughter.
Riven sighed, dragging a hand through his messy hair, the ocean-sky behind him still humming with ancient quiet.
"So… I have to save this whole damn world, in short?" he muttered, glancing upward like he was asking the moon itself.
The realm answered with no hesitation."Yes. That is what you are supposed to do."
Riven squinted. "And why, exactly, should I?"
His voice wasn't angry. Just tired. Raw from too many truths, too many wounds, and one very persistent realm watching his every move.
"Why should I risk my life," he went on, "for the sake of a world that didn't even ask me? Just because I'm your 'chosen one' who passed your death-maze of a trial?"
The silence stretched—
Then the voice of the realm replied, calm and timeless:
"But what will you do with your fortune if the world is finished?"
Riven blinked.
"…Ah. That's a good damn point."
The realm chuckled in its quiet, godlike way."It was surprisingly easy to bottle you up."
"Oh no no," Riven said, smirking, "don't get too proud. You didn't win that argument."
He crossed his arms.
"It's true," he admitted. "If the world's gone, what use is my money, my food, my future—or this cool dark grimoire I can't even read yet."
Then he leaned back a little, tilting his head.
"But that's not the only reason I'm doing it."
The realm paused.
"What is it then? Family? Friends?"
Riven laughed softly, shaking his head.
"No. I mean, I love them. Of course I do. But this... this isn't a selfless hero speech."
He looked up at the shimmering canopy, eyes glinting.
"I'll do it for the fun."
The silence shifted.
"…For fun?"
"Yeah," Riven grinned. "Excitement. Challenge. Adventure. You nearly killed me, old realm, and I liked it. Not the dying part—but the fighting back. The mystery. The unknown."
He tapped the grimoire with two fingers.
"I've had nightmares since I was a kid. Powerless, small. But now? I've got blood on my fists, secrets in my hands, and one hell of a pissed-off realm watching my back."
He cracked his neck and stretched like someone preparing for a game.
"So yeah. I'll save this world."
The realm waited.
"Because of excitement," it echoed, almost stunned.
Riven grinned wider.
"Because if I'm going to die someday, I might as well die doing something insane. And let's be honest—who the hell else could pull this off if not me"?
A single leaf from the sky drifted down, as if the realm were bowing in respect.