Riven sat cross-legged, eyes closed, both hands resting on the scythe's handle. Alright… let's do this, he thought, summoning his amber mana.
He drew a slow breath, guiding the amber energy through his body. It pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, circling his limbs before pooling in his hands. With a focused exhale, he pushed it outward, willing it to flow around the weapon—to form the outer layer, the first step of mana imbuement.
But to Riven's surprise, the mana didn't follow his command. Instead, it reacted on its own, as if it understood his intent more deeply than he did. Rather than wrapping around the spear to form a shell, the amber mana surged forward and sank directly into it. In an instant, the weapon came alive, its surface glowing with a rich, molten amber light that pulsed like a living heartbeat in his grip.
At the sight, Roman's expression shifted, eyes widening slightly. "Wait—hold on, what are you doing?"
He took a step forward, voice sharp now. "I told you to encase the weapon in mana, not start injecting it! The weapon won't be able to hold that kind of energy—it'll just leak out into the air!"
Before Riven could attempt to stem the flow of mana, it started to pour out even faster, flooding the scythe with reckless force. The glow brightened, pulsing erratically. Even through his eyelids, Riven saw the light bleeding through.
"Kid! Stop the flow of mana!" Roman's tone cut through the hum with urgency.
Panic shot through Riven. He tried to pull back, to seize control—but the mana ignored him, gushing out in torrents. Why is this happening again… His mind flashed back to his fight with Zephyr—when he'd circulated most of the amber mana around his body and nearly lost himself to its will.
The weapon began to tremble, emitting a deep hum that climbed in pitch. Riven's eyes snapped open. The scythe was drowned in amber light, its form barely visible beneath it. Cracks ran along its surface—fractures filled not with emptiness but with glowing liquid, as if the mana itself was fusing the broken parts together.
More than half his amber mana was already used up.
Roman stepped closer, crouching to inspect it, eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Fascinating," he murmured. "Normally, all the mana should have escaped into the atmosphere… but your mana's holding onto the weapon. No—more than that." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It's like your mana and the weapon have fused into some kind of unholy amalgamation."
Riven barely heard him over his racing heartbeat. The drain wouldn't stop. The weapon kept pulling, devouring his energy.
"I—I can't control it," he stammered. "It's taking everything!"
Then—suddenly—the pull weakened. The wild torrent slowed to a trickle. But even as it did, the weapon's power continued to swell, glowing brighter and brighter until the room was drenched in amber light.
Roman didn't move. He just watched, studying every flicker of the weapon.
A minute crawled by. The scythe's body fractured completely—yet somehow stayed whole. Its form expanded, fragments suspended in a viscous amber liquid shaped like a scythe. Then, without warning, the glow collapsed inward.
The draining stopped.
They watched as the liquid hardened into a solid shell, the amber glow fading to a faint, rhythmic pulse.
"I… I don't know what happened," Riven said quietly. He could feel Roman's gaze on him—sharp, analyzing. "I've never done anything like this before."
Roman studied him a moment longer, then smiled again—this time softer. "I believe you, kid. It's a colossal waste of mana… but it's incredibly interesting."
Roman rose to his feet, spinning his own scythe, its blade starting to thrum with dark violet energy. "Come on. Let's see if it's any good."
Riven hesitated, eyes on the weapon's altered form. Is it even safe to use this?
"Kid," Roman's voice broke through, firm but reassuring, "you won't get stronger if you're afraid to take risks. Now pick it up and let's go."
Riven exhaled slowly. He's right. I came here for a reason. Besides, since when had he ever backed down from potential danger?
Confidence reignited; he grabbed the scythe and stood. Despite the weapon being larger than before, its weight was slightly lesser. Still, a faint unease stirred in the back of his mind as he stepped into the pit and fell into a natural stance.
Roman's figure flickered—then vanished.
Riven's instincts screamed. A blur of motion, a flash of steel—Roman appeared a foot away, scythe slicing toward his waist.
Riven froze under the crushing pressure—until the amber mana moved for him.
It burst to life, flooding his body with sharp, violent intent. His eyes flared amber as he twisted, bringing his weapon up just in time to intercept.
The blades met with a sharp, ringing clang that echoed through the training hall. Sparks flashed between them—but instead of feeling the force of impact drive him back, Riven blinked in shock. The blow hadn't just met Roman's strength—it overpowered it. His swing had flowed through effortlessly, redirecting Roman's attack as if he'd been the one in control the whole time.
He stepped back slightly, eyes darting to the weapon in disbelief. "How… how did I do that?" he muttered. "Did what I did to the scythe really make it this strong?"
Roman landed lightly on his feet, boots sliding across the ground without losing balance. For a moment, there was genuine confusion in his eyes—then the corners of his mouth pulled into a knowing smile.
The air around his weapon darkened as its edge began to hum with a deeper, heavier energy. Riven's pulse quickened. He didn't need Roman to say anything; he could feel what was coming next. Tightening his grip on the scythe, he raised his stance, every muscle braced for the next strike—one that promised to be far stronger than the last.
Roman lunged again, his scythe now pulsing with darker, hungrier energy. Riven's heart pounded. His body moved before thought—he ducked low, pivoted, and swung horizontally.
Roman met it head-on.
The clash detonated in a shockwave that tore through the area, sand and light exploding outward.
Riven was thrown back, slamming into the stone wall. His vision blurred as his weapon slipped from his grip.
When his sight cleared, he saw the result—a crater gouged into the training ground, half a foot deep. His weapon lay to his right, breaking apart, the amber material disintegrating into drifting motes.
Through the ringing in his ears, Roman's voice reached him. "Well done, kid. That thing just took Rank 2 empowered strikes without shattering completely."
Riven groaned, forcing himself upright. "Why do you keep throwing me around like that? You could go a little easier, you know."
Roman only chuckled, brushing sand off his trousers.
Before he could reply, the training room door creaked open.
A tall, pale man stepped in—immaculate suit, bartender's poise—but his expression was taut, uneasy. "Sir," he said curtly. "We've got a problem. The noble kind."
Roman's posture shifted in an instant. Amusement drained from his face, replaced by cool focus. "Alright," he said simply, striding toward the door. Just before stepping out, he glanced back at Riven. "Training's over. Use the door on the other side of the room, it will lead to the back exit."
Riven opened his mouth about to ask for clarification but before he could, Roman exited through the main door, walking fast.
With a sigh, he sank into the sand, exhaustion finally catching up. "It's alright if I rest for a bit before leaving right, he didn't seem like he would be coming back anytime soon…" he muttered.
A soft meow was his only reply.
Luna padded over and curled up on his chest, purring softly as Riven's eyes drifted closed.