Player Chapter 20. Competitive Instinct
She felt it in her bones. The hollow ache behind her eyes. The faint tremor in her fingers she refused to acknowledge.
Riven noticed anyway.
Of course he did.
He watched her withdraw her hand from the prince's chest and shift her weight ever so slightly to compensate for dizziness. The way she straightened too quickly, as if posture alone could trick exhaustion.
Her Mana depleted.
He didn't comment. Not directly.
Instead, he clapped his hands lightly once, as if they had just finished an afternoon picnic instead of a massacre.
"Anyway," he said brightly, because subtlety was overrated, "you look better, Prince."
The young man blinked at him. "I feel like I was trampled by a war elephant."
"Improvement," Riven replied. "We'll use your testimony. And since I also got this-"
He yanked the frost chain.
The fake vampire stumbled forward with a very undignified noise. The white powder on his face had smeared into streaks. He looked less terrifying villain and more failed theatre actor.
Riven beamed. "-we're going to get the real mastermind soon, right?"
He sounded genuinely cheerful.
Which would've been fine.
If he didn't look like he'd just walked out of a bloodbath.
Coat splattered. Boots stained. Hair slightly wind-tousled in a way that would have trended online in another universe. And a literal fake vampire dragged behind him like a misbehaving pet.
The prince stared.
"…You look clever," he said slowly. Then paused. "…But also terrifying."
Riven smiled. "Thanks."
He meant it.
Elena almost groaned.
"Anyway," Riven continued, as if they were late for tea, "we should go. The guards probably caught the flare by now."
Elena turned toward the distant road instinctively. "Then shouldn't we wait? They can escort us. They usually bring carriages."
He looked at her. Just for a second longer than necessary.
And she understood.
He didn't trust that idea.
"Leaving them?" she pressed quietly. She gestured to the survivors. "The guards will help them too."
He scanned the scene again. Bodies covered. Injured stabilized. No one actively bleeding out.
"None of them are dying right now," he said calmly. "All injured already attended. And the dead…" He paused. His voice dropped half a tone. "…we can't do anything for the dead."
It wasn't cold. It was honest.
She hated that he was right. "But the guards-"
"-could have spies among them." He didn't raise his voice. Didn't dramatize it. Just stated it like weather forecast.
The prince slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing steadier now. He glanced toward the road too.
"He is right," the prince said quietly. "If my presence was leaked once, it can be leaked again."
Elena felt tension crawl up her spine. The temple. The guard. The caravan. All compromised?
She didn't like how fast her world was shrinking.
"But walking is impossible," she argued. "You can barely stand."
Riven didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he turned his head. Slowly. Deliberately.
Toward the horses.
Two remained. Shaken. Untethered. But alive.
He pointed. "We can use those."
Elena stiffened. "…I can't ride a horse."
Silence.
Riven blinked at her. "…You can't ride a horse?"
She felt heat creep up her neck. "I was not raised in a rural village." She couldn't say that she was from the modern world. So she couldn't ride a horse.
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
He said it anyway. "Saint of Light. Can summon miracles. Cannot operate basic four-legged transportation."
She glared. "You summon ice chains from the ground. Don't mock me."
He considered that. Fair point.
The prince coughed, trying not to laugh. Immediately regretted it.
Riven sighed dramatically. "I can ride." Riven had attended a horse riding course since he was eight. He even had his own horse. Rich kid stuff.
The prince straightened. "So can I."
Riven nodded. "Great. So one needs to ride with Elena. And one with this fake vampire."
The fake vampire made a distressed noise.
"Not optional," Riven added pleasantly.
Elena looked between them. "We cannot leave him unsecured."
Riven flicked his wrist.
[Ice Restraint. Reinforced: Arms + Torso]
Frost crawled tighter around the captive's limbs. He shivered violently.
"He's secured," Riven said. 'Unless he's secretly a professional contortionist.'
Elena watched him move again, the ease, the confidence, the absolute refusal to panic. He wasn't rushing. He was planning. Even in absurdity.
She hated that it worked.
The prince pushed himself up slowly, leaning on a wagon for balance. His eyes met Riven's.
Riven noticed the posture. The way the prince stabilized himself without wobbling. The way his gaze didn't avoid eye contact. The way he calculated distance to the horses even while injured.
Competitive instinct stirred.
Interesting.
"So," Riven said lightly, "who wants which assignment?"
Elena frowned. "Assignment?"
"You," he pointed, "need a stable rider."
She stiffened. "I am stable."
"On a spiritual level."
She inhaled sharply.
The prince smirked faintly.
Riven enjoyed that a little too much.
Elena crossed her arms. "This is not a game."
He looked at her then. Fully.
And his expression shifted slightly. Not joking. Not flippant.
"I know," he said quietly.
It was barely audible.
But she heard it.
And something in her chest softened again, annoyingly.
The prince cleared his throat. "Time is limited. Guards will arrive soon."
Riven nodded. "Right. Decision time."
He stepped closer to the horses, grabbing one by the reins. It tossed its head but calmed quickly under his grip. He moved like he had done this before.
The prince reached the second horse, slower but determined.
They stood opposite each other now. Two men. Two reins. One Saint. One fake vampire.
Riven's eyes flicked to the prince's.
Challenge.
The prince saw it.
And didn't look away.
They weren't measuring rank.
They weren't measuring capability.
But something else.
Elena felt it too. The shift. The subtle tightening in the air.
"I prefer with the saint," the prince announced.
Riven smirked. "Well, me too." NPC or not, he preferred sat with a girl than a man.
Elena smelled trouble. "Uh oh…"
"Rock, paper, scissors?" the prince challenged.
"Deal."