The morning sun filtered through stained-glass windows, casting warm colors onto the polished stone floor of the estate's main hall. Riven stood near one of the columns, arms crossed, silently watching as servants hurried about their tasks. It had been only a day since the monstrous wave was repelled, but the atmosphere had already shifted. Less tension in the air—more expectation. The kind that clung to your skin like damp fog.
"Riven," his father's voice echoed sharply across the hall.
He turned, gaze steady. His father stood at the top of the stairs, expression unreadable but with that slight narrowing of the eyes Riven had learned meant: 'I'm about to give you an order I expect you to follow.'
"We've received a request from the Merchant Guild," Lord Thorne continued as he descended the stairs. "You'll be escorting their grand envoy to the Elven Kingdom. Velarion."
Riven arched a brow. "Velarion? That's deep in the southeast. You trust me enough to guard your most valuable trader through wild roads and foreign lands?"
A ghost of a smirk flickered on Lord Thorne's lips. "I trust your fists. And more importantly—your system."
Riven's jaw tightened. He wasn't used to his father being so… blunt. "So this is more than just a courtesy to the guild, isn't it?"
"There have been rumors," his father said, voice lowering. "Of beastkin scouts crossing borders. Raiders seen on the fringe of trade routes. This isn't just about goods. It's politics. And intimidation."
Riven's eyes narrowed. "You want me to be the warning."
"Exactly."
Two days later, Riven found himself riding at the head of a six-wagon caravan, flanked by ten armed guards and the portly, overly-perfumed master merchant, Geller Voren. The man was all rings and smiles, laughing too loudly and eating too much.
"I tell you, lad!" Geller bellowed as his cart rolled beside Riven's. "The elves may be mysterious and cold, but they do pay handsomely. Their crystals sell for thrice the value anywhere else in Orithal!"
Riven glanced at him, half-listening. His senses were tuned to the woods—every rustle of the branches, every snap of a twig. Something felt wrong.
He clicked his tongue. "Stop the caravan."
The lead guard looked back, confused. "My lord?"
"Now."
As the wagons came to a halt, silence swallowed the road. And then—
A whistling sound.
Arrows.
They rained down from the treeline, several thunking into the wooden sides of the wagons. Screams erupted as masked raiders burst out of the foliage, blades gleaming.
The guards moved to engage, but Riven was already off his horse, cloak billowing as he stepped forward.
"Tch. Amateurs." He cracked his neck.
One of the raiders lunged at him, blade aimed for the gut. Riven sidestepped easily, catching the man's wrist. A pivot, a twist—crack. The arm bent the wrong way.
Before the man could scream, Riven's knee slammed into his stomach. Then an elbow to the back of the skull. One down.
More came, five this time.
"Good," Riven muttered. "I needed a warm-up."
He dropped low, sweeping one attacker's legs out. As the man fell, Riven caught him mid-air and used him as a human battering ram to slam into the next two. Momentum shattered bones.
A dagger flashed toward his neck. Riven leaned back, narrowly avoiding it, then surged forward with a hook punch that knocked the assailant's jaw out of alignment. He followed up with a back hook—one of his newly unlocked Ssireum techniques—sending the last attacker sprawling.
The rest of the guards were still fighting—but Riven had already taken down ten men alone.
"You're insane!" Geller yelled from his covered cart, watching Riven dance through the battlefield like a phantom.
"No," Riven muttered, wiping blood from his knuckles. "I'm efficient."
One more raider charged him, screaming something in beast tongue. Riven raised a brow.
"You talk too much."
He ducked under the swing and planted a punch into the man's ribs—Muay Thai Form: Tiger Claw Knee. The sound of bones crunching was followed by a scream.
Quest Complete: Defend the Caravan.
You have gained 1 Level. Current Level: 11. Attribute Points gained: 3 Skill Tree Point gained: 1
New Skill Unlocked – Ssireum Style: 'Back Hook' (Active) New Passive – Efficient Grappler: Reduces stamina cost of all grappling techniques by 5%.
Riven exhaled slowly, the system interface fading from his vision. Around him, the guards finished off the remaining attackers. Silence returned to the forest.
"That's all of them," the lead guard said, panting. "Not a single one escaped."
Riven didn't answer right away. His gaze swept over the corpses, then the treeline.
Too clean. Too easy.
"This was a test," he muttered.
"What?" Geller waddled over. "You think there'll be more?"
"Eventually. Someone wanted to see how we'd react."
The merchant paled. "By the gods..."
Riven ignored him. He turned to the guards. "Regroup. Fix the wagons. We move double pace from now on. We reach Velarion within three days."
He wasn't just an escort anymore. He was a blade drawn in the open—seen, tested, marked.
And he liked it that way.
As the caravan resumed its path through the winding roads toward the Emerald Veil, Riven rode at the front again, but this time, a faint smirk touched his lips.
If this world wanted to test him—he would test it back. One broken jaw at a time.