"Please… spare me…"

  The man begging was trembling so hard his armor rattled like loose chains.

  Riven stared at him in silence.

  Smoke drifted through the ruins around them. The battlefield was quiet now — too

  quiet. The kind of silence that only came after screaming had ceased.

  "Spare you?"

  Riven's voice was hoarse, hollowed by something far deeper than rage.

  "Why would I do that?"

  He steppedforward slowly.

  "You took everything from me."

  The kneeling man tried to crawl back, fingers digging into blood-soaked dirt.

  "All I ever wanted… was peace."

  Riven's hand tightened around the hilt of his blade.

  "I fought your wars. I killed your enemies. I became your weapon."

  His voice cracked.

  "And when I finally laid the sword down… when I finally chose my family…"

  His breathing shook now.

  "You hunted me."

  He paused.

  "You slaughtered my wife."

  "My child."

  "You burned my home to ash."

  The blade hummed as pale silver light gathered along its edge — Aura responding to grief so deep it had long since become part of his bones.

  "And now… you beg for mercy?"

  The man sobbed.

  Riven raised the sword.

  "The only mercy I have left to give… is a swift death."

  One clean motion.

  What followed was silence.

  The head rolled across broken stone.

  For a long moment, Riven didn't move.

  Then he knelt beside the corpse, shoulders trembling.

  "I did it…" he whispered.

  Tears slipped down his face, disappearing into the dirt.

  "It's over… my love… You can finally rest."

  He turned the blade toward himself.

  "I'm coming, my love

  Steel pierced his heart.

  Darkness swallowed everything.

  ....

  Not the cold numbness of death.

  Warmth.

  Air in his lungs. A sting on

  his cheek.

  "Wake up, you useless brat! You'll be late for the entrance exam!"

  Riven's eyes snapped open. He gasped —

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  breathing hard — clutching his chest.

  No wound.

  No blood.

  He turned toward the small cracked mirror hanging on the wall. And froze. The face staring back at him was young — far too young. No scars. No hardened lines carved by war. No exhaustion buried deep beneath the skin. His hair fell in soft, uneven strands around his face — silver, almost white, catching the morning light like frost. It shimmered faintly with movement, as if reflecting something deeper than mere color. His eyes matched it. Cold silver. Clear. Sharp. The kind of gaze that looked like it had seen far too much for someone so young. He slowly raised a hand, touching his face in disbelief… then his shoulders… his chest.

  His body was lean, but defined — slim muscle shaped by natural balance rather than brute strength. Not the massive build of a battlefield veteran, but the precise, efficient physique of someone born for speed, control, and lethal movement. He turned his head. What he saw was not a battlefield. Just a small, worn room… sunlight spilling through thin curtains… and a woman glaring

  down at him with hands on her hips.

  His mother. Alive.

  "…What…?"

  His voice was barely sound. "Where am I…?"

  "You're home, idiot!" she snapped. "Now get up!"

  Home.

  He looked down at his hands.

  Young. Smooth. Unscarred. His body felt… light.

  Sixteen.

  Impossible.

  His heart began pounding harder than it ever had in battle. No battlefield. No ruins. No corpses. Just morning light… and the smell of cheap stew from the kitchen.

  "…I'm alive."

  The relief didn't hit the way he expected.

  It felt… distant. Muted.

  As if this wasn't the first time he had opened his eyes like this.

  He shook his head. Shock was doing strange things to his mind.

  That is when memories struck like lightning.

  The war.

  The king.

  The betrayal.

  Qiyana's scream.

  His child's lifeless body.

  The sword in his chest.

  Riven's breath hitched.

  He stumbled out of bed, staring at the woman in front of him — poor clothes, tired eyes,

  gentle hands hidden beneath a harsh voice.

  Viviene.

  The woman who saved him when the world threw him away.

  Emotion surged up so violently his knees nearly gave out.

  She frowned.

  "Why are you staring at me like that?"

  Riven swallowed hard.

  "…Nothing."

  But inside,his thoughts roared.

  Thirty years…

  I've gone back thirty years.