Part 1: Weakness is a Weapon Too
Location: Blackthorn Sector 12 – Local Training Grounds
The sky was overcast, the kind of dead gray that made mana sensors glitch.
Riven stood in the Guild's public training ring—surrounded by low-rank hunters, all fresh off registration trials.
He kept his stance casual. Awkward. Untrained.
His blade—a dull Guild-issued practice sword—hung loose at his side.
He'd purposely throttled his mana.
His aura was locked.
His movements, sloppy.
From the sidelines, someone scoffed.
"Who let that guy in? He holding the sword backward?"
Another laughed. "You sure he's not just a janitor testing weapons?"
A younger hunter smirked. "I heard he ran from his Awakening Trial. Probably E-rank trash."
Riven didn't respond.
He let them believe it.
Let them see only what he wanted.
Because in this city?
Acting weak was safer than proving you were a threat.
Overhead – Guild Surveillance Node 34
A small drone hummed above, disguised as a streetlight.
Inside the surveillance room, an operator scowled.
"No skill logs. No mana readings. His system signature's a black wall."
Another tapped her screen. "No combat registration either. He's not even marked for dueling clearance. This guy's a ghost."
The man in charge sighed.
"Then send someone to poke the ghost."
Training Ring – Five Minutes Later
A tall man stepped into the ring.
Halden Voss.
D-rank.
Guild-licensed.
Ranked duelist with four wins and zero losses.
"Hey," he called to Riven. "You the guy dodging registry?"
Riven blinked.
"…Me?"
"Yeah, you. You're either hiding or hopeless. Let's find out which."
He stepped forward, tossing his cloak off. Two real blades, class-linked, shimmered on his belt.
"Duel me. No mana restrictions. First one to yield or bleed out loses."
Riven scratched his head.
"I'm not… that good."
"You'll be fine. It'll be quick."
Riven sighed.
"…Alright."
[System Status: Active – Combat Subsystem Throttled to 30%]
[Current Displayed Stats: Strength 11 | Agility 9 | Vitality 10]
[Revenant Blade Class – Suppressed]
[Soul Echo – Locked]
[Combat Assist Disabled for Cloak Protocol]
He gripped the sword backwards.
Halden grinned.
The duel began.
What Everyone Saw:
Riven stumbled forward, barely blocking the first strike.
He spun clumsily, lost footing, and almost dropped the blade.
Halden landed three clean hits—non-lethal, but humiliating.
The crowd chuckled.
Even Lyra, watching from the roof, frowned.
He looked like garbage.
But her eyes narrowed.
Something about the way he moved… bothered her.
What Riven Saw:
[Threat Analysis Complete]
[Enemy Combat Pattern Logged – 87% Predictable]
[Counterpattern: Ready]
[System Support Held Back]
He let Halden press in.
Waited for the fifth strike—the overconfident lunge Halden always used when his opponent staggered.
And then, in one move—
Riven shifted his foot slightly.
His sword reversed direction.
And the practice blade stopped just short of Halden's throat.
Everyone froze.
Halden blinked.
The wooden blade hadn't hit.
But it would have.
If Riven had wanted it to.
"Do I win?" he asked casually.
The crowd fell silent.
[System Notice: Cloak Protocol Success]
→ You appeared 82% weaker than true capacity
→ No red flag triggered by Guild monitors
Riven stepped out of the ring before anyone recovered.
Behind him, Halden stood completely still, eyes wide with something that wasn't confusion.
It was fear.
Later – Guild Rooftop, Nightfall
Lyra caught up with him.
"You're hiding something."
He shrugged. "Aren't we all?"
"You could've ended that fight any second."
"But I didn't."
"That's what makes you dangerous."
He glanced at her.
"…Or maybe it makes me smart."
They stood in silence.
Then she asked, quieter this time:
"Why are you doing this, Riven?"
He turned to the skyline.
And for the first time, his voice sounded distant.
"Because someone I care about is missing."
"…Who?"
"My brother."
The air thickened.
Lyra didn't speak.
And Riven didn't offer more.
But the truth pulsed under the surface like a second heartbeat.
His brother had vanished three years ago—after awakening.
The Guild said he was dead.
But the system said otherwise.
And Riven would burn the whole structure to the ground to find him.
Elsewhere – Ash Blade Compound
The assassin who failed was kneeling.
Bleeding.
Shaking.
"I underestimated him," he rasped. "He evolved. He's Tier Two already."
A taller figure stepped into the room.
Clad in deep black, horns sprouting from his helm, mana rolling off him in waves.
[System Error: Class Not Recognized]
[Entity Type: Unknown]
[Designation: Hollow Brand – Ash Blade Executioner]
[Threat Level: ???]
"You will not fail again," the creature said softly.
Because he would be going next.
Part 2: The Fire That Hunts the Silent
Location: Blackthorn Sector 9 – Outer Residential Block
The apartment was small. Three rooms. Cracked walls. Government rations on the shelf.
Riven stood just inside the doorway, arms crossed, watching his mother hum softly in the kitchen while his younger sister, barely fourteen, scrolled through a busted hologlass tablet.
For a moment… everything was normal.
But only on the surface.
"Eat with us?" his mother asked, turning.
He hesitated.
"I have to go soon."
She frowned, brushing dust off his collar like she used to when he was ten.
"You always say that."
"I always mean it."
His sister looked up from her tablet, giving him a wry grin.
"You're still wearing that ugly coat?"
"It hides my stats," he replied, deadpan.
She snorted.
"I bet you're still an F-rank."
Riven didn't correct her.
Didn't show the class menu. Didn't tell them about the kills. Or the evolution. Or the system calling him Unbound.
They didn't need to know.
Because the world he lived in now was the kind that took siblings and never gave them back.
Like it did to his older brother, three years ago.
And if he wasn't careful?
It would come for his sister next.
Location: Industrial Ruin Zone 3 – 2 Hours Later
The streets were quiet. Too quiet.
Riven walked alone, hood drawn, senses dimmed, system cloaked.
But something was off.
The shadows whispered wrong.
[Warning: Active Hostile Aura Detected Nearby]
[Threat Classification: Elite Assassin – Executioner-Class]
[Recommended Action: Retreat]
[User Note: Aura matches Ash Blade signal from prior encounter]
Riven turned the corner.
And stopped cold.
The figure standing in the ruins was tall, armored in ash-black plating etched with crimson runes.
His face was masked, his eyes glowing with quiet fire.
And unlike the last assassin, this one didn't wait.
[Combat Initiated]
[System Suppression Attempt Detected – Class Lockout: 80% Effective]
[ERROR – Revenant Blade reacting independently]
Riven didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just whispered, "So the Ash Blades are escalating."
The Executioner raised one hand—and the entire street cracked.
Flame-etched sigils burst beneath Riven's feet.
He barely dodged as a wave of blade-like flame sliced through the air.
[Damage Avoided]
[Mana Field Disrupted – Recovery Delayed]
Riven ducked behind a steel beam, his coat still smoldering.
He'd hidden his class from everyone. Kept it buried under weak footwork, lazy strikes, fake hesitation.
But this?
This wasn't something he could fake his way out of.
He had one choice.
[Cloak Protocol – Temporarily Overridden]
[Revenant Blade Partial Activation Confirmed]
[Skill: Soul Echo – Ready]
→ Summon memory of fallen elite
Riven stabbed a finger into his armguard.
Dark light poured out—and from behind him, a phantom version of the Flame-Scaled Devourer roared into the sky.
The street lit up in molten crimson.
The Executioner didn't flinch.
It charged instead.
Rooftop – Lyra Watching
She'd followed him again.
But this time… she wasn't ready.
She watched as the monster rose from Riven's shadow. A beast of flame and memory, burning with a presence that no C-rank should've ever been able to summon.
Then she saw Riven move—a blur of blade and blood, his speed far above any rank she could calculate.
[Skill Detected: Revenant Strike – Unofficial Class Signature]
The Guild database pinged red in her lens.
She froze.
He's not even using the Guild's system anymore.
He wasn't hiding power.
He was hiding something worse.
Something the world wasn't meant to hold.
Back to the Fight – Broken Street Core
The Executioner roared and unleashed its true weapon—a jagged greatsword of shadowfire, big enough to cleave a car in two.
Riven raised his blade—and whispered to the system.
"Let me borrow my brother's strength."
[Memory Sync Attempt – 12%]
[ERROR – Target Memory Corrupted]
[Partial Transfer Authorized]
Suddenly, his arm glowed with a pulse of blue static.
And a memory not his own—of a sword stance, of footsteps against metal, of a voice yelling "Strike first. Strike last."—flashed through his mind.
Then he moved.
One clean step.
One slash.
The Executioner's mask cracked down the middle.
It staggered—then dropped to a knee.
[Critical Hit – Vital Damage: Fatal]
[Elite Enemy Defeated]
[XP Gained: 11,000]
[Level Up – 10 → 11]
[Memory Fragment Gained: Kael_01.BrokenLine]
Riven stood over the corpse, chest heaving.
The memory fragment pulsed in his system like a buried heartbeat.
[You have accessed the memory of: Unknown Subject – Genetic Match: 78%]
→ Possibility: [Older Brother]
His hands trembled.
He looked down at the cracked helmet of the Executioner.
Inside was nothing.
No face.
Just void.
Rooftop – Lyra's Choice
She watched it all.
And for the first time… she was afraid.
Not of Riven.
But for him.
She could turn him in now. Report the whole thing.
The system activity. The shadow class. The illegal fight.
But she didn't move.
Didn't say a word.
Just watched him walk away, cloak dragging behind him, shadow heavier than any S-rank she'd ever seen.
Because somewhere deep down… she still believed in him.
Even if the world wouldn't.