The sizzling hiss faded.
Riven leaned closer.
The joint between the mantis's scythe arm and its main body had… melted. Not entirely — but enough. The fibrous cartilage had been seared straight through, a dark ring of bubbling residue left in its place.
He started to reach out—
But then the light around him dimmed. Rapidly.
His eyes darted to the side. The Illuminating Stone — still lying where he'd dropped it to try to pry the blade arm loose — flickered once, then again. Fading. It was running out of qi.
Riven cursed under his breath and moved fast, snatching it up with his hand.
He shoved a pulse of qi into the core.
The glow flared again — sharp and cold, shadows dancing across the underbrush. But now that he was holding it again, the same issue came crawling back.
This is annoying.
Holding it constantly meant losing his only hand in every fight — or worse, dropping it and gambling on a few seconds of light before getting sliced apart.
He frowned.
Where else can I put it?
He glanced down at the breast pocket of his inner robe — where his sect token rested, snug and still.
That should be close enough to still be able to channel qi into it. Right?
He slid the stone inside, tucking it just beside the token. The fabric muffled the glow — but not entirely. A faint light still bled through the weave, casting a subtle glow around his torso. Dimmer. Uneven.
But enough.
Riven took a breath and focused. He directed the thinnest thread of qi toward the stone, feeding it through contact. The glow pulsed in return — stabilizing, though slightly weaker than before.
It worked.
Not optimal.
But it worked.
He just hoped it wouldn't overheat pressed against his chest.
He rolled his shoulder, getting used to the new arrangement.
Better than nothing.
Then he crouched beside the mantis again, turning his attention back to the blade-limb — now glowing faintly beneath the cloth-filtered light.
The spider was still there.
Perched beside the melted joint — unmoving, legs tucked in like it was waiting. Watching.
Waiting for… praise?
Riven hesitated. It was absurd. But the thought wouldn't leave him.
Something about the way the spider stood — quiet, expectant — made him feel like it wanted acknowledgment. Like it was proud of what it had done.
This is insane.
He reached out anyway.
His fingers hovered for a second… then lightly tapped the spider's back.
It didn't flinch. Didn't scurry away.
Instead, it shifted slightly. Almost into the touch.
And somehow, Riven felt something. A flicker of warmth. Emotion.
Happiness?
His brow furrowed.
Then — just for a moment — the back of his hand heated slightly.
The tattoo.
Riven blinked and turned his hand, lifting it to the light.
There it was. Etched into skin like inked fire.
A spider. Thin-lined and small. Its legs curled just short of his knuckles, too precise to be decorative, too fresh to be old. It hadn't faded in the weeks since it appeared. Not even slightly.
He still didn't remember getting it.
It had simply been there when he woke up in wherever he was.
He looked at the spider again. It had stopped reacting — simply standing near him, legs still, as if its job was done.
Was it the tattoo?
That would explain a lot. The spiders watching. Following. Not attacking.
Even helping.
He didn't know much about Silkspines, but this clearly wasn't normal.
Riven frowned and let his hand fall back to his side.
Then his expression shifted, realizing something.
He had just… patted a spider on the back.
Sure, he'd never been particularly afraid of spiders — but comfortable enough to do that? No way.
He even remembered flinching sometimes as a kid when one skittered too close.
He was never this at ease around them.
But since waking up here?
He hadn't felt that same instinctive discomfort. Even now, with dozens of tiny eyes watching from every branch and bark split — he didn't feel revulsion.
Just… curiosity. Calm.
He looked down again.
The spider shifted its weight once more, then turned — and silently walked off into the dark, vanishing between the roots.
Riven remained still for a moment.
He was alone again.
But not really.
A strange chill passed through him, light, like cold water running over skin.
His gaze drifted to his hand again — to the clean lines of the ink, unmoving but somehow alive against his skin.
Is it doing something to my thoughts?
He exhaled, low and steady.
Focus.
That was a question for later. Right now, he still had a trial to survive.
Riven turned back toward the mantis carcass and crouched once more.
The scythe-limb was still there — detached now, lying where the spider had left it. He picked it up carefully.
The base of the limb was rough and fibrous, a natural grip where the chitin hadn't hardened into a cutting edge. Primitive… but workable. Not balanced like a real blade, and heavier than ideal, but it would do for now.
He gave it a few test swings, watching the air split cleanly around the curved edge.
Sharp enough to split his leg for sure.
I was reckless.
He shivered slightly.
Then he did a quick tally.
Something Vaern had drilled into him after every fight.
No injuries. His breathing had evened out.
Qi…
He took a breath and reached inward.
His dantian pulsed steadily, warm and full.
Now that he'd reached mid-stage Inner Essence Realm, it held more qi than ever before — about as much as a clenched fist, dense and coiled, ready to move.
Under normal circumstances, that gave him four full uses of Falconburst Kick before he'd run dry.
But these weren't normal circumstances.
The Illuminating Stone pulsed gently inside his robe, still drawing qi to maintain its glow. A tiny trickle — barely anything at all — but constant.
And constant adds up.
He already felt the difference.
Realistically, he had two clean uses of Falconburst left.
Maybe three, if he was willing to end the fight with nothing in reserve.
I have to use my qi sparingly.
He decided to only use Falconburst if he came across a lesser feral — one of the bigger Sharpclaws Elder Syen had warned them about.
If he met semi-ferals — like this one, he'd would fight slower, using his strength and newfound weapon to win the fight.
He could also meditate and recover some qi. Circulate his cultivation method, draw in essence from the air.
It wouldn't be fast — but it would help.
Still, he hesitated.
The trial was based on kill count. There was a tournament at the end, yes, but if he didn't make top sixteen before that… none of it would matter.
And right now, he had no idea where he stood.
He couldn't afford to waste time sitting still.
It was too risky.
He needed to be in the top 16.
His grip tightened slightly around the bladed limb as he turned toward the deeper forest.
No time to waste.
He had to find more sharpclaws.
Just then —
A sharp sound echoed through the trees.
Metal against chitin. A grunt. A crash.
A fight. Not far off.
Riven's expression sharpened.
He adjusted his grip — then moved, slipping between the trees like a shadow.
The spiders followed.
Soon he reached the source of the sounds.
The trees parted ahead.
Riven crouched low, parting the final branches just enough to see into the clearing beyond.
What he saw made his stomach tighten.
A mantis.
But not like before.
Taller. Sleeker. The jagged arc of its scythe arms gleamed faintly even without light, and its chitin shimmered with a dull green polish. It was as tall as his waist.
A lesser feral.
He tensed, hand gripping the carapace knife more tighly.
And then he saw the one standing opposite it.
A girl.
Short-cropped black hair. Sleeves torn. Glaive in hand. Even with her back half-turned, Riven recognized the sharpness in her posture.
It was one of the three late-stage Inner Essence Realm disciples.
If he remembered right, her name was Lara.
She was locked in a close battle with the Sharpclaw.
Her glaive spun in a tight arc, deflecting the mantis's lunge just enough to dodge — but not enough to fully counter. One blade scraped past her shoulder, slicing a thin line of red across her upper arm.
She didn't flinch.
Her counter had landed too — a sharp kick to the mantis's side as its blade clipped her arm.
Riven watched silently from the treeline — they were evenly matched.