The weight that had pinned Riven to the ground suddenly doubled as his attacker's body went limp on top of him. For a moment, he lay there, face pressed into the dirt, the unexpected collapse robbing him of his next breath.

  Then, he twisted violently, shoving the deadweight off his back and rolling to his feet in one fluid motion. His sword was already in his hand, his violet eyes transfixed on the woman lying at his feet.

  "Wait! Stop!" Lya's voice cut through the moment as she lunged forward, catching his wrist. Her fingers dug into his skin, surprisingly strong for her slender frame. "Wait," she repeated, breathless from her sprint across the battlefield.

  She thrust her arm protectively between him and the collapsed figure. "Just... stop."

  Riven's jaw clenched hard enough to make his teeth ache. His eyes never left the prone form before him. "Relax," he said, the false smile that spread across his face doing nothing to mask his irritation. "I wasn't going to kill her."

  His grip on the sword remained white-knuckled. "Just... return the favor."

  Lya's voice rose to a shout as Aron's heavy footsteps approached. "No! She's not a monster. She's like us!"

  The woman lay unconscious in the dirt, her silver hair fanned out in the blood that soaked the ground. She was tall and slender, with features that might have been striking if not for the deep gash across her cheek that leaked fresh blood down the ivory skin of her face. Blood covered most of her body—some hers, much of it not—staining the surface of her elegant armor.

  Lya knelt beside the woman, hands hovering over her still form as her green eyes darted rapidly across the injuries. "It's worse than I thought," she said, voice dropping to a worried murmur. "She's seriously wounded. The stomach injury is deep, and she's got cuts everywhere." Her hands settled gently on the woman's abdomen, fingers probing carefully. "She's lost a lot of blood. If we don't help her and find shelter now, she'll die."

  Riven's brow furrowed, the violet glow of his eyes intensifying with his anger. "You're joking, right? She just tried to kill me, and now you want me to save her?" He gestured toward the battlefield with his free hand. "She can join her companions. One less threat to worry about."

  "Riven! Stop being an ass!" Lya's voice cracked like a whip. "We don't have time for this!"

  The sudden outburst shocked them both into silence. Even Aron, who had just arrived at the scene, blinked in surprise. None of them had ever heard Lya raise her voice like that.

  The moment stretched, taut with tension, before Riven finally lowered his sword with a hiss of frustration. "Fine," he conceded, though his expression remained stormy. "But Aron carries her."

  He turned expectantly to the giant, who merely shrugged and gestured to the enormous pile of meat he'd gathered while Riven had been occupied with the armor. The stack was enormous—chunks of salvaged flesh piled into a gory tower

  "Fuck," Riven muttered, scowling at both of his companions. "Fine. I'll do it."

  With careful movements that belied his irritation, he sheathed his sword and crouched beside the unconscious woman. Under Lya's watchful gaze, he slid his arms beneath her knees and shoulders, lifting her from the blood-soaked ground. Her head lolled against his chest, silver hair trailing over his arm.

  Why the hell am I saving someone who had a blade to my throat a minute ago?

  They plunged into the forest at a rapid pace, the dense canopy of trees swallowing them within seconds. Lya took the lead, her green cape fluttering as she darted between trees, eyes scanning desperately for a safe place to stop and treat the woman's wounds.

  "We need somewhere defendable," she called back, her voice tight with concern. "Elevated, if possible."

  Riven followed close behind, the woman's weight growing heavier with each step. Despite his annoyance, he found himself searching the surroundings with his Spatial Eyes, probing the forest for potential shelter.

  "There," he said suddenly, nodding toward a massive tree that towered above its neighbors. "Up there."

  The tree stood like an ancient sentinel, its trunk wider than Aron's considerable span. Thick branches extended outward at various heights, creating a natural stairway into the canopy. Near the top, a dense network of limbs formed what appeared to be a platform, sheltered by a curtain of blood-red leaves.

  Lya assessed it with a quick glance and nodded. "Perfect."

  The climb was arduous, especially for Riven. With the woman's unconscious form cradled in his arms, each handhold became a challenge. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running into his eyes.

  "Could've just left her," he muttered under his breath, shifting the woman's weight to reach for the next branch. "Would've made this a hell of a lot easier."

  Eventually, they reached the platform Riven had spotted. It was larger than it had appeared from below, a natural floor formed by interlocking branches and covered with a soft layer of fallen leaves. The blood-red foliage around its perimeter formed a dense screen, hiding them from view while still allowing glimpses of the forest below.

  "Put her here," Lya commanded, immediately clearing a space in the center of the platform.

  Stolen story; please report.

  The moment Riven laid the woman down, Lya was in motion. Her fingers worked quickly, removing the pieces of armor protecting the woman's torso. Beneath was a midnight-blue fabric, slick with blood.

  Lya placed both palms flat against it, her face immediately tightening with concentration.

  Green light bloomed beneath her hands, brighter and more intense than Riven had ever seen from her before. Small tendrils of emerald energy snaked their way beneath the fabric, seeking out wounds. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with Lya's Koras as she poured her energy into the healing.

  Riven stepped back, his expression finally softening slightly as he watched Lya work.

  "This will take a while," he said, turning to Aron. "Keep an eye on her."

  He took a few steps away, then turned back with a hard smile. "Oh, and if she wakes up hysterical, restrain her. Or cut off an arm if you prefer."

  The comment visibly unsettled Aron, whose golden eyes widened slightly, but Riven was already moving away, his mind on other matters he considered far more pressing.

  He settled on a branch a short distance from the others, near enough to hear any disturbance but far enough for privacy. From his pack, he carefully extracted the complete set of armor he'd salvaged from the battlefield—he'd made sure to retrieve it just before picking up the woman.

  With methodical precision, he laid out each piece on the flat surface of the branch. The matte black fabric gleamed dully in the dappled light filtering through the leaves.

  A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he uncorked the water flask and began the careful process of cleaning each piece. The blood and grime of the battlefield had soaked deep into the fabric, but he worked patiently, imagining how he would look once the transformation was complete.

  No more ragged slave clothes. No more visible reminder of what he'd been before. This armor represented something else entirely—something he was determined to become.

  The green glow faded from Lya's hands as she sat back on her heels, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She had been working on the silver-haired woman for nearly three hours, pouring Koras into the broken body with an intensity that had left her drained and pale. But there was satisfaction in her eyes as she looked up at Riven and Aron. "I've stabilized her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "She'll live."

  Then she had collapsed backward, sprawling against the trunk of the tree, her reserves of energy as depleted as her Koras.

  That had been an hour ago. Now, as evening approached, shadows lengthened across their makeshift refuge in the canopy.

  The unconscious woman lay still on her back, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep rather than the erratic patterns of someone fighting for life.

  With the blood cleaned from her face, Riven looked closer. He realized she appeared to be the same age as him and Lya. Her features were strikingly elegant, holding a refined grace that was utterly captivating. Her silver hair spilled around her like shimmering silk, startling against the blood-red leaves that carpeted their shelter.

  Beside her rested her sword—a weapon that had captured Riven's attention from the moment he'd first seen it. The blade was long and slightly curved, fashioned from what appeared to be ice of the palest blue. So fine it seemed almost translucent when caught in certain angles of light, yet it radiated an unmistakable aura of lethality. Along its edge, delicate engravings pulsed with a cold, mysterious energy that seemed to lower the temperature in its immediate vicinity.

  Riven's violet eyes widened as he examined her equipment more closely. Everything about her gear spoke of quality beyond anything he'd ever encountered—even beyond what he could have imagined. Her armor was a masterpiece of silver plates, that somehow never caught the light in a way that would betray her position. Etched directly into the breastplate was a striking blue emblem: a crown with a sword plunged through its center.

  Beneath the armor, which Lya had carefully removed to treat her wounds, she wore a midnight-blue bodysuit that fit her form like a second skin. The material appeared both flexible and incredibly resilient. Hanging from her waist was a half-cape of the same midnight blue, split to allow freedom of movement while still providing the regal silhouette of a proper cape.

  How does someone get access to equipment like this? Riven wondered, unable to tear his eyes away from the craftsmanship. The armor was both elegantly designed and brutally efficient for combat—protective without restricting movement. Despite its apparent complexity, it had been surprisingly light when he'd carried her, the weight barely noticeable beyond that of her actual body.

  He glanced down at his own newly acquired outfit, the black fabric still slightly damp against his skin from his thorough cleaning. While it couldn't match the obvious prestige of the woman's gear, he felt a quiet satisfaction with his new appearance. The tactical suit fit him well, the reinforced plates positioned perfectly to protect vital areas without compromising his agility.

  He ran a hand over the matte black surface, appreciating its subtle quality.

  A crackling sound drew his attention to the small fire Aron had somehow managed to construct in a hollow of stone he'd carried up and placed at the center of their platform. The giant had positioned it carefully, ensuring the flames remained contained and the smoke dispersed through gaps in the canopy above them. Around it, strips of monster meat sizzled on improvised skewers.

  Aron sat cross-legged beside the fire, his massive frame hunched forward as he tended the cooking meat with surprising delicacy. But any impression of patience vanished the moment a piece looked remotely edible. He would pluck it from the fire, blow on it cursorily, and swallow it in two bites before returning his attention to the remaining food.

  Riven watched in fascinated horror as Aron consumed piece after piece with barely a pause for breathing. The giant's appetite seemed bottomless, his golden eyes fixed intently on the next morsel even as he chewed the current one.

  Gods, he's a real bottomless pit. He's eaten at least two kilos of meat already. When does he stop?

  Moving closer to the fire, Riven managed to snatch a few pieces for himself, but it required speed and constant vigilance. If his attention wandered for even a moment, Aron's hand would dart out and claim another portion.

  The meat pile Aron had brought up to their shelter had been enormous—almost as tall as Lya when stacked.

  "How exactly are you planning to move that mountain of meat?" he'd asked, eyeing the pile skeptically.

  Aron had simply shrugged his massive shoulders. "I'll manage it," he'd said, as if carrying half a monster up a tree was no more challenging than picking up a pebble.

  And true to his word, he had. Somehow balancing the entire stack in one arm while climbing with the other, he'd brought their entire food supply up without dropping a single piece. Now that same supply was rapidly disappearing down his throat.

  A sudden movement caught Riven's eye, pulling him from his thoughts.

  The silver-haired woman had sat bolt upright, the motion so abrupt it seemed impossible for someone who had been unconscious moments before. Her face remained eerily impassive as her eyes—a piercing blue that almost matched her sword—swept rapidly across their shelter, cataloging every detail with clinical precision.

  Her hand closed around the hilt of her blade, the other held open at her side, ice-blue Koras spilling from her palm in cold waves.