The rain still poured relentlessly, swallowing the world in an endless drum of falling water. Riven stood there in silence, letting the cold bite into his body, letting each drop wash over his face and the blood that still clung to his hands.

He closed his eyes for a moment, sinking his mind into the pitch-black storm, trying to steady the wild rhythm of his heart. Only after his body calmed did he draw a deep breath, open his eyes, and take in the chaos around him.

Three lifeless bodies lay sprawled on the ground.

Riven lowered his gaze, a faint wave of nausea pressing against his stomach. He couldn’t let Melly see this. More terrifying than anything else in the world was just one thought: that his little sister might one day look at him with fear. That, to him, would be far more horrifying than fighting beasts or monsters.

His movements were swift yet careful as he dragged the cold bodies one by one. They were unbearably heavy, especially for someone who had not rested properly, but he forced himself to keep going.

His breath grew ragged, his boots splashing in the mud as fresh blood mixed with the wet earth beneath him.

He dragged them far, far enough from the house he and Melly had been staying in. A hidden spot where the stench of blood would soon vanish, swallowed by the rain.

Afterward, he returned. With a soaked cloth in hand, he wrung out the water, then scrubbed the wooden floor inside the room, wiping away the red stains that had marked the house.

His motions were quick, a little rough, but precise. He paid no mind to the overturned chairs or the small table broken from the earlier clash. That kind of mess could be ignored, as long as the blood was gone, Melly would not suspect.

Once he was certain the place was clean enough, Riven stood upright. His shoulders rose and fell, his chest heavy with exhaustion. He wiped his face with a wet hand, then walked toward the bedroom. As the door opened, he called out as calmly as possible, though his voice was hoarse with fatigue.

“Melly… it’s safe now. You can come out.”

Melly appeared from behind the bed where she had been hiding. Her face was pale, her wide eyes full of unease. Seeing Riven drenched, his clothes torn and smeared faintly with red, his body marked with bruises, she ran quickly toward him.

“What did you just do, Riven?” Her voice trembled.

Melly was still too innocent, but not so naïve that she failed to sense something terrible had happened. Especially after the muffled crashes and shouts she had heard earlier, faint but unmistakable even beneath the storm.

Riven smiled stiffly. He knew lying wasn’t right, but the truth would only plant nightmares in her mind. So he chose to cover it up with a proud tone, as if it were something trivial.

“They tried to get in… so I threw them out after teaching them a little lesson.”

Melly stared at him, disbelief written all over her face. Her gaze drifted to his wounds—the bruises on his arms and back, the long gash across his chest. “You… only threw them out?” she whispered.

Riven let out a small chuckle as he peeled off his soaked clothes. “Of course. Look at me. They’re in far worse shape than this. Scratches like these mean nothing to me.” He forced a gentle smile, one meant to convince her he was fine.

Melly bit her lip, still worried, though she knew her brother wouldn’t say more. With her small hands she fetched dry clothes, offering them as Riven wiped down his drenched body. Her eyes flicked repeatedly to his wounds, as if trying to make sure he truly wasn’t in pain.

Riven reached over and patted her head lightly. “Don’t worry, Mel. I’m tougher than I look. You have to trust me.”

Outside, the rain began to ease, its thunder no longer as deafening. Riven glanced toward the window. He knew this place was no longer safe. They had to leave. But there was still something he needed to do before they abandoned the house.

He took the old umbrella leaning against the wall. Its fabric was patched and worn, but still strong enough to shield against the lingering rain. He turned back to Melly.

“There’s something I need to take care of outside. Wait here. No matter what happens, don’t come out.”

Melly immediately shook her head. “No! I want to go with you! I don’t want you to go alone, Riven!”

But Riven’s gaze hardened into a coldness he rarely showed her. That look froze her in place, her lips trembling but unable to voice another protest.

“Trust me, Mel. I need you to stay here. If something happens and I don’t come back, hide. Don’t show yourself to anyone. Do you understand?”

Melly wanted to object, wanted to scream her refusal, but the determination etched on her brother’s face silenced her. Tears welled in her eyes as she gave a small nod.

Riven exhaled deeply, brushing her hair once more before stepping outside. The chill of the night greeted him at once.

The worn umbrella opened, shielding him from the last heavy drops of rain. His steps were steady as he left the house behind, heading down the wet road toward the distant town.

Behind him, Melly stood frozen at the doorway. She clutched at her clothes, watching his back disappear, weighed down by a fear she did not fully understand.

.

.

.

The shop inside was silent. So silent that the scratch of Jacky’s pen against paper could be heard clearly, filling the room with a faint rhythm, nearly drowned by the rain outside.

An oil lamp glowed faintly on the desk, its yellow light falling across Jacky’s calm face. The faint gleam caught on the single-lensed monocle perched awkwardly over his eye, a strange accessory that seemed more comical than dignified.

He sat with relaxed posture, slightly hunched, as though occupied with something trivial—numbers, a list of goods, or perhaps an order log.

Riven stood outside the side window, half-hidden behind the curtain of rain that streaked down the filthy glass. He watched closely. No footsteps. No shifting shadows. Only Jacky, occasionally lifting his pen to dip it in ink.

Just one man inside.

Riven checked again. He held his breath, letting his ears catch every detail, his eyes scanning every corner around Jacky. No one else lurked nearby.

Satisfied, he moved toward the front door. His rain-chilled fingers closed around the wooden handle, pushing it slowly. The hinge creaked faintly as the door opened, releasing the smell of metal, gun oil, and damp gunpowder into the air.

Riven leaned the old umbrella against the wall by the entrance, water dripping from its fabric to pool on the wooden floor. He stepped inside with measured strides, deliberately making his presence known.

Jacky lifted his head. The lamplight glinted in his eyes, and for a brief moment Riven caught a look that was not entirely surprised.

“Oh… boy.” Jacky’s voice was light, almost friendly. A faint smile curled at his lips. “What brings you here this time?”

His tone carried no hint of panic. He seemed calm, his voice steady as ever.

Riven did not answer right away. He simply stared, cold-eyed, his breathing steady. In the silence filled only by the rain, he noticed it—the small movement of Jacky’s fingers slipping under the desk. Reflex screamed through Riven’s body, his survival instincts recognizing it instantly.

Jacky’s face remained calm, but his hand was reaching for something.

In a flash, Jacky raised a crossbow from beneath the table, its metal glinting in the lamplight. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, loosing a deadly bolt straight toward Riven’s chest.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep