Riven didn’t answer Marquess Briarwood’s question. He simply turned his face away, suppressing the boiling emotion in his chest. His tongue felt heavy, not from fear, but from the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind.

Time passed.

The next few hours dragged on slowly, as if the world itself was waiting for something that refused to come. The wagon wheels groaned against the stony forest path, trembling each time they crossed a pothole or the root of a tree. All the while, Riven remained still, bound tightly by roots that wrapped around his body like living chains.

But within that silence… he began to notice something.

His body felt… different.

He lowered his head, closed his eyes, and focused inward. He held his breath. He tried to listen to his body, not with his ears, but with a deeper awareness.

The mana he had used to cleave through the dragon was nearly depleted. His body felt dry, like every drop of energy had been drained. But soon after, he felt something—a soft current trickling slowly within him, like a small river beginning to fill the cracked basin of parched earth.

His mana.

Slowly but surely, the flow began to fill the empty spaces inside him, circulating and purifying.

The clearer he sensed it, the more he realized something had changed. As someone trained in mana absorption, he could tell—this flow was smoother, deeper. The mana seeping into him wasn’t just refilling his reserves; it flowed into every gap, every fiber, with a different intensity, as if his body had become more open and attuned to the energy itself.

It was as if new channels had opened—pathways that had once been blocked now clear, allowing mana to flow wider, deeper, and purer than before.

He remembered that moment—when the wooden staff in his hand unleashed a devastating strike. When his understanding of Severance ignited something inside him. It felt like thousands of doors had opened all at once. His mana had burst in every direction, not just filling his body, but reaching outward… touching something far greater.

And now… though fatigue still weighed heavily on him and hunger gnawed at his stomach, he couldn’t ignore the truth—his body had transformed completely.

His muscles felt denser, stronger, though he hadn’t yet moved. His bones felt sturdier, yet lighter. He could feel the cold in the air and the vibration of the wagon more sharply, smell the damp earth even with the window closed, and hear Melly’s heartbeat from across the wagon. Even the distant breath of the horses reached his ears, faint but real.

Every strand of his nerves had come alive.

But it wasn’t wild, chaotic strength—it was something honed. Like a perfectly forged sword, waiting for direction.

He was no longer the weak Riven from before.

He was now the Lawbearer, wielder of the Law of Severance.

…And yet, look at him now.

After all that—after the mana explosion, the deep revelation, the new strength—he was back to being tied up, a captive of a man who should’ve been reduced to ash.

It would’ve been funny, if it wasn’t so infuriating.

Riven turned, eyes fixed on the back of Marquess Briarwood, who sat confidently at the reins. The noble’s tattered cloak fluttered in the breeze, revealing scorched skin that was still badly wounded. His arms were badly burned, and his fingers were wrapped in rough strips of bloodied cloth.

If only he could move one hand.

If only the roots loosened just a little.

He swore, he would slice the nobleman in two without hesitation.

.

.

The moon didn’t shine brightly that night. Only a faint glow filtered through the forest canopy, casting long shadows inside the gently swaying wagon. The night air was damp, cold, and heavy.

Several hours had passed since Riven had awakened, and finally, Melly stirred.

Her eyelids fluttered slowly before opening fully. Her gaze was still hazy, but the moment she saw Riven sitting nearby, relief bloomed across her face.

“Riven…?” she whispered.

Riven immediately turned toward her. His gaze softened, and his breath caught slightly.

“Melly… thank goodness you’re awake.”

For a moment, they simply looked at each other. No words. But in that silence, there was deep relief.

The feeling didn’t last long, though. Riven had too many questions racing through his mind. He looked at Melly, his concern evident, and finally asked quietly, “What happened after I passed out? How did we end up here?”

Melly fell silent for a moment. Her eyes dropped as memories of the destruction of Glimfell returned.

“After you collapsed… the dragon…” she paused, gathering her thoughts.

“That massive dragon… suddenly split in two.”

Riven listened carefully, saying nothing.

“Its body fell onto the city… everything was destroyed. There was fire everywhere. Buildings collapsed. The ground broke apart. Everything was burning. I… I thought we were going to die.”

Her voice trembled. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to hold herself together.

“But then… he appeared. A man. With golden hair.”

Riven narrowed his eyes. “Golden hair…?”

“Yes…” Melly nodded. “He was the same man who shared our cell briefly before. He suddenly appeared in front of us. He picked us up and carried us out of the city.”

Riven fell silent. A vivid image returned to him—an almost inhumanly beautiful man, with lazy eyes that seemed utterly indifferent to the world. That man hadn’t seemed to care about either of them back in the prison cell… so why save them now?

Was he just a good person who couldn’t leave others in danger? That didn’t feel right.

Before Riven could ask further, a familiar raspy voice called out from the front of the horse-drawn carriage.

“Well, look at that. You’re chatting now. How touching. Sibling love, it’s always so heartwarming.”

It was Marquess Briarwood.

Still seated at the front, his back turned to them, he continued in a casual tone:

“How about we set up camp here for the night? The horses are tired. And you two must be starving, no?

Without waiting for a response, the carriage gradually rolled to a stop along a relatively clear stretch of forest road.

The night wind slipped through the cracks in the wooden walls. The scent of damp wood and freshly lit embers filled the air. Riven stared coldly at the traitorous noble’s back.

And this night… was far from over.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep