After a long stretch of running, he stopped at what once seemed to be a cathedral. The roof was gone — torn clean off, as if some massive creature had ripped it away. Riven sat at the broken staircase of the cathedral, trying to catch his breath.
Soon, the sound of hooves reached the crumbling pillars. But when the riders arrived, the crawling abominations were gone — all except one, dragging itself away slowly, bleeding across the stone.
In the heart of the ruined city lay a fractured plaza where six roads met — the Broken Nexus. Cracked stone paths stretched out in every direction, choked with rubble and twisted roots. Each road carried its own decay: one climbed toward crumbling towers, another sank into mist and silence. One was flooded, another lined with hollowed homes. The rest twisted through shattered arches or vanished beneath dark vines.
At the center, a toppled statue watched over the crossroads — its face worn smooth by time, its meaning long forgotten. To the left of it was the pillar where Riven had once taken shelter.
The man in the brown coat dismounted his horse, followed by three others. He moved around, scanning the area for signs of Riven — but found none.
He let out a sigh.
"I guess we'll have to split up."
There were twenty of them. Four rode alone, while the remaining sixteen shared eight horses in pairs.
He lingered for a moment, then spoke again.
"We're twenty, and there are six paths ahead. Six of us will act as leaders — including me."
He pointed at the three who had dismounted with him.
"You three — two others will follow each of you."
The rest of the group moved to stand behind their assigned leaders. But one pair remained unassigned. The man tapped his forehead, then pointed at a warrior dressed like a Spartan with a long spear.
"You two — follow him."
Soon, the group split and disappeared into the six roads.
After resting a while, Riven began moving deeper into the ruined city. He passed a statue of a woman — or perhaps a goddess. Her face was barely visible, worn down by time. The shoulder of her left arm had crumbled, but the hand still held on, raised in a gesture of offering. Resting on her palm was an eye.
He had started noticing something strange about the city. From the very entrance, he'd seen an eye symbol carved into the gate. At first, he hadn't thought much of it, but now... it was everywhere. On walls, stones, and even doors.Even the cathedral had them, every building, every ruin seemed to have the symbol.
Creepy. What's the deal with all the eyes?
After a while of walking, Riven froze. In the distance — the distinct clatter of hooves. One horse,Maybe more they were moving fast.
He didn't run, there was no point. They were mounted, and this city was a maze of dead ends. Instead, he slipped into the ruins of what might've once been an alley — just enough cover to disappear.
If they were going to catch up anyway, he'd strike first.
He crouched low behind a shattered wall, hand tight around the hilt of his knife. Dust swirled with each step. He moved quietly. The plan was simple — ambush, kill, vanish. It was night. The moon hung overhead, but the alley was too dark to see clearly but it was still a little visible. That didn't matter. Riven could hear everything — even the small bugs moving nearby.
Soon, three figures reached the alley and dismounted.
At the front was a woman with even brown hair and steady brown eyes. A black cloak hung from her shoulders — worn, but whole — and twin blades rested at her sides. Around her neck was a pale, featureless mark.
Two others followed, dressed similarly, cracked masks dangling around their necks.
Their boots crunched against scattered debris.
One of the men at the rear muttered, "What do you think we'll get if we catch him? A raise? Extra rations?"
The other rolled his eyes. "You ask too many stupid questions."
"I'm just saying—he's one guy. One messed-up Firstborn. And we're twenty. He might not even be that tough."
"Shut up and watch the corners."
The first man grumbled and turned his head.
A stone clicked off the wall to his left. He froze.
"Huh?" he whispered.
A hand clamped over his mouth. Cold steel slid into the gap beneath his jaw.
He twitched once, then stilled.
Riven dragged the body into the shadows. Blood soaked into the cracked stones.
The remaining two continued on, unaware. The leader walked ahead with quiet precision. The last man hesitated, then followed. He soon realized the other wasn't speaking anymore.
"Huh? Where did that idiot go?"
Before he could finish, he saw fingers at the side of his head, but he before riven could kill him he screamed.
"MISS NIRA!"
Then there was a sharp crack — his neck snapped. He diey instantly..
She turned, locking eyes with Riven.
He dropped the body, picked up a blade, and stared at her.
She looked down at the corpse, her expression calm, cold. But slowly, anger bled into her eyes. She unsheathed her twin blades and spun, building momentum. She vanished into a blur — and appeared in front of him.
Riven barely raised his blade in time. Sparks flew as steel clashed.
He finally got a good look at her — beautiful, not otherworldly, but striking, and angry.
She drove a boot into his abdomen. He flew backward, slammed into a moss-covered wall. He spat blood, then wiped his mouth.
He unfastened the mask around his neck. It was black — obsidian-dark, devouring the light — but made of wood, cracked with faint glowing lines. He placed it on.
The eye holes revealed nothing — just darkness. And when you stared into it… it stared back.
He charged.
Blades clashed and sparks flew.
The mask enhanced everything — his senses, strength, speed. Now he could keep up.
Riven lunged, each step deliberate — too deliberate. His left flank hung open and Vulnerable.
Nira struck, twin blade darting toward the opening.
But it was a trap.
Riven pivoted low, her blade missing by inches. His shoulder crashed into her ribs. She gasped — air knocked from her lungs — as she was hurled backward into a crumbling wall.
She dropped one blade. The other clattered, still in her grip. Blood smeared her lips as she slowly rose, planting her weapon into the dirt for support.
Her eyes narrowed — not in fear, but something colder.
She reached for the mask around her neck. It was silver, smooth and featureless and plain, untouched by detail it was a blank surface. She slowly slid it on.
A chill raced down Riven's spine.
In a blink, she vanished — and reappeared behind him.
Her hand slammed into on his face.
He flew — smashing through stone, crashing through ruins. He hit the ground hard, blade digging into the ground to keep him upright.
Before he could move, Nira's foot cracked into his jaw. He flew again, hit the ground, coughing blood.
She sprinted forward, kicked him in the gut like she was launching a ball.
He crashed into another wall — momentum slowed only by the stone.
He barely stood.
A Veiled.
In the hierarchy of mask bearers, the lowest was Firstborn — Riven's rank. Above that was Veiled. And the difference between them was nearly insurmountable.
No matter how strong a Firstborn was, they couldn't defeat a Veiled.
And it was clear now.
He didn't stand a chance.
As he stood, she became a blur—but this time, he was ready. Riven raised his blade, blocking her strike at the last second. But just because he was prepared didn't mean the blade was.
Steel shrieked. Her twin blades crashed down, and his weapon snapped under the pressure.
He stumbled back, barely dodging the follow-up strike, then hurled the broken hilt toward her.
She didn't flinch. She simply caught it.
But Riven hadn't thrown it to hurt her—just to buy time.
He turned and bolted.
She moved instantly, refusing to let him go. Before he could gain any ground, she dashed forward and slammed her foot into his spine.
Riven flew through the air and crashed into a ruined building.
The impact rocked the structure. Cracks spiderwebbed along the walls as dust poured from the ceiling. With a low groan and a thunderous snap, the ruin collapsed. Riven rolled aside just in time, the rubble crashing down behind him in a choking cloud.
The sound echoed through the silent ruins.
He moaned, clutching his back.
"I don't stand a chance against her…"
A ripple disturbed the puddle beside him. He glanced at it—and gave a faint, knowing smile.
"Looks like I won't be the one killing you after all," he muttered. "But first… I need a way out."
Just then, a distant, unearthly screech cut through the air—followed by another.
The ground trembled lightly..
Riven's eyes lit up. He snatched a chunk of stone from the ground and hurled it into the darkness to his left, shattering glass and drawing noise.
The moment she turned toward the sound—instinctively, for just a heartbeat—he vanished into the ruins, slipping between crumbling alleys and broken walls.
Not much of a plan. But it was enough.