Riven hurried out of the field of corpses, his steps as light as possible so as not to attract the attention of wild beasts or looters who might still be prowling nearby. The stench of blood mixed with rotting flesh clawed at his nose, making every breath feel heavy.

He moved past scattered bodies, his feet nearly slipping on patches of congealed blood. Every so often his gaze would catch a frozen face, eyes wide and staring blankly at the sky, tongues hanging out, jaws broken. Riven forced himself not to look too long. His eyes stayed forward, searching for an exit. His body pushed its way out of the heap of corpses, descending the soft, blood-soaked earth before entering the trees and climbing upward.

His stride was steady despite the ache gnawing at his muscles. He kept moving, stepping over thick roots and slick stones. His breath grew heavy, but he did not stop. Only once he reached higher ground, far enough from the battlefield, did Riven finally set his burdens down slowly. The sack of loot dropped onto the ground, followed by the axe and the sword still strapped to his waist. Then he let his body collapse into the grass.

The chill of damp grass brushed against his skin, but exhaustion drowned out the discomfort. Riven pulled down the cloth covering his nose and drew in a long breath. The scent of blood lingered faintly here, but not as suffocating as in the field of corpses. His chest rose and fell, his breathing gradually finding rhythm again.

Melly’s face appeared in his mind. The little girl was surely terrified, trembling alone in the dark, surrounded by the chirping of insects and the whisper of wind through the grass.

A pang of regret hit him. He had decided to bring her along so she could see with her own eyes the cruelty of the world. But now he wondered what was going through her mind as she saw it—bodies butchered, rivers of blood, screams frozen in the silence of night.

Melly was still too young. But sooner or later, she had to understand the true face of this world. He could not shield her forever. Eventually, she would learn that his work was revolting, far worse than she might imagine. That was why he had to be there for her, guiding her so she wouldn’t drown in fear, teaching her to be strong.

Riven wiped his face with his palm, then sat up again. His legs throbbed, but he forced himself to rise. He couldn’t rest long. Melly was out there alone, and his worry for her gnawed at his chest.

He reached for his belongings again. His gaze lingered briefly on the sack filled with loot, the spoils of the man he had slain earlier. His heart brimmed with hope. Perhaps inside there would be something valuable: a fine weapon, or supplies they could use. Once they returned home, he would check.

But for now, nothing mattered more than Melly.

Riven tightened the knot holding his sword and resumed walking. He climbed once more, passing the thick trunks of towering trees until the forest thinned into a stretch of tall grass swaying in the wind. His breath grew heavier, sweat trickled down his temple. Straightening his back, he looked toward the place where he had left Melly.

The sight froze him in place.

There stood about ten men. Strangers with hard faces and wild eyes, gathered in a circle as though surrounding something.

Riven’s heart seemed to stop beating.

His trembling hands lowered his load to the ground. Slowly, he stepped forward, his sharp gaze locked on the black-cloaked figures ahead. Every step felt heavy, as if the earth itself resisted his weight.

But the fragile calm he clung to shattered at once. From his angle, he saw one of the men draw a sword from his back. The faint gleam of steel caught the moonlight. The man’s head was lowered, his lips moving as if speaking to someone before him.

Something tightened in Riven’s chest. Fear and despair churned together. Then his eyes found her—Melly, curled on the ground, trembling in terror. His mind went blank. Nothing else mattered, not even his own life.

Without giving thought to logic or strategy, Riven exploded into motion. His feet pounded the earth as he sprinted toward them with reckless urgency.

His frantic footsteps shattered the silence of night. The ten black-cloaked men turned almost in unison, like a single body pulled by invisible strings. Their gazes cut into him—cold, watchful, merciless.

Riven scanned them one by one, seeking a sign, a symbol, a face he might recognize. But all were strangers. Only the black cloaks united them, veiling their true identities.

Amid the suffocating dread, he found the one he sought most—Melly. The little girl wept, her body shaking violently. When she saw her brother rushing toward her, her tear-streaked eyes widened, shock and relief mingled on her small face.

Riven broke through their circle, ignoring the sharp stares, and pulled his sister into his arms. Dropping to his knees, he clutched Melly tightly. The girl clung back, her frail arms wrapped desperately around his waist.

“It’s okay… I’m here,” Riven whispered, though his own voice quivered.

He held her tighter, shielding her small frame with every fiber of his being. His gaze rose, sweeping across the black-cloaked men encircling them. From just one look, Riven knew they were not looters like himself, nor stray soldiers prowling for prey. There was something else in their eyes, something deeper, far more dangerous.

One man stepped forward. His hair was stark white, the same man who had drawn his sword earlier. He seemed to be their leader. His gaze fell upon Riven and Melly, cold and devoid of emotion. When he spoke, his voice was flat, yet heavy with a weight that made Riven’s skin crawl.

“At first, I only intended to kill the little girl,” he said. “But who would have thought the brother would appear as well? Should I kill you both, then?”

Riven’s blood turned to ice. The world seemed to halt around him. The man’s words slid into his ears and crawled down his spine, seeding a cold terror in his heart.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep