As the old wooden door creaked open, the stench of rusted tal and weapon oil stung Riven's nose. The cramped room was filled with wooden racks stacked with swords, spears, axes, and worn-out bows that had clearly seen too many battlefields with their forr owners. A single oil lamp swayed overhead, its dim yellow glow barely pushing back the shadows, as though the room lingered on the edge of darkness.
Before Riven could take another step inside, a harsh, angry voice pierced his ears.
"Damn this night! Two of our n were slaughtered like animals! If I ever find that bastard, I'll cut him down myself. Damn it! If only we'd cornered him right away, this never would've happened!"
Riven's heart thudded once, then quickened. He knew exactly who they ant, and who they were hunting.
'Shit…' he cursed inwardly. Tonight felt as though the whole world had conspired to trap him.
His gaze flicked sharply to the right. There, beside a scarred wooden table, two n were talking.
The first was a bald, stocky man wearing a single-lensed monocle that looked entirely ill-suited to him, dressed in a black leather vest. Riven recognized him instantly—Jacky, the owner of this shop, or more accurately, a black-market arms dealer who never missed a chance wherever war and corpses piled up.
The other man was a stranger. His eyes burned red with a mix of grief and fury. From his voice, Riven could tell: this was surely one of the comrades of those he had slain earlier. Luckily, back then Riven had been cloaked in darkness, masked, his face hidden by night. Recognition was impossible.
Riven forced a calm, almost flat expression. He stepped forward a few paces and spoke casually, as though he hadn't heard a thing.
"Boss Jacky, I'm looking for a sword. Let take a look first before I decide."
Jacky glanced at him briefly, his eyes narrowing. Of course, he recognized Riven. And he understood at once—Riven didn't want to draw attention while doing business.
"Over there." He nodded toward the racks of swords lined neatly, though dulled with age, along the left side of the room.
Riven gave a short nod. He took lly's hand and led her to the racks. The little girl's eyes sparkled, as if this room brimming with weapons was so kind of paradise. She had no idea how thin the veil of tension really was.
Riven pretended to examine the swords—lifting one, weighing it, then setting it back. But his ears were fully tuned to the conversation behind him.
"I swear, Jacky, I'll hunt that bastard down! I don't care which hole he crawls into!" The stranger's fist slamd the table, making a half-empty beer mug tremble.
Jacky only gave a dry chuckle.
"You've lost them. Getting angry won't change a thing. The dead are dead. The world doesn't stop just because two n are gone."
"Shut your mouth, Jacky! They were my brothers!"
"Yeah, yeah…" Jacky shrugged with cold indifference.
No useful information, just empty curses from a grieving man. Even so, Riven kept his posture steady, fingers brushing over sword hilts as though truly weighing their worth. After a few more minutes, the man growled, pushed back his chair, and stord out of the shop.
The door groaned shut once more. Riven set the last sword back in place, then approached the table. Jacky was pouring wine into a rusted iron cup. When Riven drew near, the bald man snorted with a crooked grin.
"You troubleso brat… what kind of ss have you stirred up this ti, huh?"
Riven's expression didn't shift. His eyes were cold, steady.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
mories flickered in his mind. Their first eting, in a city suddenly attacked by mountain tribes. Back then, Riven had been nothing more than a desperate youth trying to survive with his sister. After the battle ended, he scavenged blades from fallen corpses and sold them to Jacky.
Not every weapons shop would buy looted arms, so he had been cautious. Jacky, however, had taken them readily. That was how their relationship began. Riven needed coin, Jacky needed cheap loot to resell at higher prices. But as ti passed, Riven realized: the man underpaid him, treated him like a street urchin to be squeezed dry.
So, gradually, Riven pulled away. He no longer sold everything to Jacky. Only a fraction, keeping or trading the rest elsewhere for fairer value.
Now, staring into Jacky's eyes, Riven knew one truth: this man would never truly be on his side. And yet, so thin, unspoken bond kept him from severing ties completely.
Jacky's eyes narrowed. "Why co to tonight? Did you haul in a big catch this ti, planning to sell it off?"
Riven held his calm, though unease flickered in his chest.
"The battlefield was already stripped by others," he replied curtly. "I only managed to grab a few things."
Slowly, he laid them out: a short sword stained with dried blood, and two worn daggers still sharp enough to kill. He set them on the scarred table one by one, watching Jacky's eyes narrow, weighing their worth like living scales.
But Riven's hand hesitated when it brushed the coarse cloth wrapped around the ice-white sword at his hip. A faint chill pulsed into his fingertips.
'Should I show him?' The thought clawed at him. 'If Jacky saw it, perhaps he could assess its grade, its true value. How much could it be worth?'
That had been Riven's true reason for coming tonight, to confirm the sword's worth. Yet sothing inside resisted. A whisper, invisible but sharp, urged him not to unveil it.
Monts later, the deal was done. Jacky tossed him a handful of silver coins with lazy disdain, muttering sarcastic remarks as usual. Riven accepted with a blank face, slipping the money into his pouch.
Once outside, the night air swept over him. The chill wind carried the damp, fresh scent of the forests beyond the city.
Riven walked beside lly, his steps quick. The cloth-wrapped ice-white sword hung tightly at his waist.
But neither of them noticed, eyes followed from the shadows. A man lurked in the dark alleys, trailing them with unnerving patience.
Riven halted suddenly when sothing cold brushed his skin. He looked up. A drop of rain had landed on his nose. Heavy black clouds lood, swallowing the moon.
"Rain…" he murmured.
He quickened his pace, tugging lly along toward ho. Behind them, in the darkness, the shadow that stalked them also quickened its steps.
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