Chapter 42 - Before It Pulls Back

It didn't attack again. That was the first thing Riven noticed, and that alone told him more than anything else so far. Something that had been pushing this hard, controlling this precisely, didn't just stop unless it had a reason. He stayed where he was, posture relaxed but ready, eyes fixed on that point where the pressure felt thinner now, further than before but not gone. It hadn't left. It was holding distance. Testing a different approach. Riven exhaled quietly, adjusting his footing just slightly, and the space reacted again—slower this time, not snapping instantly like before. "…you're hesitating," he said under his breath. No reply came, but the air tightened for a fraction of a second, enough to confirm it. Behind him, Lanks steadied himself, one hand pressed against his side, breathing uneven but more controlled than before. "…it's not used to this," he said, voice low, like saying it too loud would bring it back harder. Riven didn't turn. "…no," he answered, "…it's just figuring out a better way." The silence stretched, but it wasn't empty. It was watching. Calculating. Riven could feel it shifting its focus, not locking onto one point anymore, but spreading slightly, trying to avoid being pinned again. That alone told him he had done damage. Not physical. Something else. Something deeper in how it interacted. "…so it learns," he muttered. Then his gaze sharpened. "…good." He moved again, not fast, not aggressive, just a step forward to test the reaction. The pressure followed, but delayed, thinner, like it was avoiding full contact. Riven stepped again. Same response. Pull back, adjust, reposition. It wasn't trying to trap him now. It was trying not to be touched. "…you're pulling away from me," he said quietly. This time, the voice came back, lower than before, less stable. "…you shouldn't reach this far." Riven almost smiled. "…too late." The moment hung for a second, and then everything shifted. Not around him. Beyond him. The space where he had been striking didn't just move—it folded. Like distance itself stretched, creating separation without motion. The presence didn't retreat step by step. It made the gap bigger all at once. Riven felt it instantly. "…that's new," he muttered. Lanks' voice came from behind, strained again. "…it's trying to reset… if it gets far enough, it'll take control clean again…" Riven's eyes didn't leave that shifting point. "…then I won't let it." He moved immediately, faster than before, closing distance not in a straight line but through angles, cutting across the field in a way that forced the space to react. The pressure tried to respond, but it lagged again, not from weakness but from conflict—pulling back and blocking at the same time. Riven saw it clearly. That hesitation. That overlap. "…you can't do both," he said quietly. He stepped into that overlap without slowing down. The space tightened suddenly, trying to lock him in place again, but it wasn't as clean as before. Not perfect. Not instant. He slipped through the same way as earlier, not forcing it, just finding where it broke under its own adjustments. From the outside, it looked like nothing had changed, but the party could feel it. The pressure wasn't overwhelming anymore. It was unstable. "…he's forcing it to mess up…" someone whispered, almost not believing it. Riven didn't hear them. His focus stayed forward, tracking that point as it kept shifting back, further, thinner. It was trying to disappear without actually leaving. That was the mistake. "…you're still there," he murmured. The voice didn't answer this time. But the reaction did. The space bent again, faster, trying to widen the gap before he could close it. Riven adjusted instantly, changing direction mid-step, not chasing directly but cutting across where it would move next. For the first time, the delay became visible. Not to the others. To him. A fraction too slow. That was all he needed. He accelerated. No wasted movement, no buildup, just a clean burst forward, slipping through the shifting pressure before it could fully respond. His hand came up again, aura tightening, controlled, aligned. Not stronger than before. Just clearer. "…you're not getting away," he said quietly. The space reacted sharply, trying to fold again, to stretch the distance before impact, but this time Riven was already there. No gap left to create. No angle left to escape through. And then—he struck again. The contact hit deeper than before. Not wider. Not louder. Just deeper. The air collapsed inward at a single point, like something invisible had been pierced, and for a moment, everything went silent again. Then it snapped. The pressure broke outward unevenly, not controlled, not directed, just forced away. Lanks dropped to one knee again, his body finally free for more than a second, his breathing rough but real now, no longer layered with that other voice. "…you're actually pushing it back…" he said, almost in disbelief. Riven lowered his arm slowly, eyes still locked forward. "…not enough," he answered. Because he could still feel it. Further now. Weaker. But still there. And this time— It didn't speak. It didn't react immediately. It just stayed at that distance. Watching again. But different. Not testing. Not playing. Waiting. Riven's stance shifted slightly, more grounded than before. "…yeah," he muttered under his breath. "…now it's serious."