Player Chapter 23. Questionable Morality
Riven watched her carefully.
He saw the flicker. The doubt. The internal conflict.
He stepped away from the wall slowly and approached the circle.
Still no whip. Which made him sad.
"Interesting philosophy," he said lightly. "Burn everything so nothing grows wrong."
Eric glanced at him. "You sound amused."
"I'm entertained," Riven corrected. "There's a difference."
Elena shot him a look.
He raised his hands slightly. "I'm not agreeing. I'm observing."
He crouched in front of Ralen, meeting his eye level.
"And this Saint of Dawn," he asked calmly, "where is she now?"
Ralen's breathing quickened again. The sigil flared bright.
"In the Dawn Temple. Outside the northern district."
"And the knight?"
"Always with her."
Eric and Elena exchanged a glance.
Northern district.
Small temple. Independent authority.
Political nightmare.
Riven stood slowly.
His expression wasn't playful now.
Not disappointed either.
Focused.
"Okay," he said casually. "That's enough crusader drama for one day."
He turned to Elena. "You good?"
She took a second before answering.
"Yes."
She wasn't.
But she would be.
Eric straightened. "We need to report this to the Light Temple authorities and to the king."
Riven tilted his head. "Do we?"
Both of them looked at him.
He shrugged. "If the Light Temple and the king didn't know about an independent Saint building momentum for a year… either they're incompetent." He paused. "Or complicit."
Silence.
The thought settled heavy.
Elena's heart pounded again.
He wasn't wrong.
Eric's jaw tightened. "Careful."
"I am careful." Riven glanced back at the bound Ralen. "Looks like the crusade wasn't against vampires," he said quietly. He looked at Elena. "It was against you."
The words didn't echo in the chamber. They didn't need to. They landed clean and sharp, like a blade placed gently on a table and left there for everyone to see.
Elena didn't answer immediately. Her fingers tightened around her staff, knuckles paling slightly. For a second, just a second, something in her composure cracked, not visibly, not dramatically, but internally.
Her eyes cooled.
It wasn't anger at Riven. It wasn't even anger at the Dawn Saint. It was something colder. Something wounded.
Eric noticed too. His posture shifted subtly closer to her side.
Riven saw that. Filed it away. He didn't like to get closer to something he should part with later.
Okay. Emotional damage applied. Now what?
He rolled his shoulders once and abruptly exhaled. "Anyway," he said casually, completely tone-shifting like a man who just exited a dramatic cutscene and remembered he had basic human needs. "It's almost lunch time already."
Both of them blinked at him.
"I only ate bread this morning," he continued, completely serious. "Can we like… have lunch? A nice one. Because I don't really have much money, and I want to eat nice food after all that cardio."
Silence.
Eric stared.
Elena stared.
Ralen, still tied to a glowing pillar, stared.
Riven gestured vaguely toward the bound man. "And for him… uh… can we throw him in a safe dungeon? Or something? So no one could kill him. I can feed him, though. I mean, he's basically my pet."
[Sir, you really have questionable morality.]
'Shut up,' Riven muttered internally. 'I've been playing VR games too much. Now I have this gamer mentality. Don't blame me. I think with logic. Not my heart.'
[That is… not entirely reassuring.]
Elena finally found her voice. "…Pet?"
"It's metaphorical." He paused. "Mostly."
Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. "We are discussing a religious conspiracy and you are asking for lunch."
"Yes."
The confidence. The lack of shame. The absolute refusal to spiral emotionally.
It was absurd.
It was also stabilizing.
Elena inhaled slowly. She stepped forward and raised her staff. A translucent barrier formed around Ralen, layered light, woven tight.
"I will leave him here," she said calmly. Her voice had gone cold. Controlled. Professional. "No one enters without my authorization."
The barrier hummed. Ralen tested it once. Regretted it immediately.
She turned away from him.
Her eyes were different now. Less confused. More resolved.
"Yes," she said quietly. "Let's eat."
Eric blinked. "…We are eating?"
"You need rest," Elena replied without looking at him. "You lost blood."
He hesitated. Then nodded faintly. "…Yes. I suppose I do."
Riven clasped his hands once. "Great. Excellent. Productive interrogation followed by carbohydrates."
He started walking toward the chamber exit like they hadn't just uncovered a heretical splinter sect manipulating national narrative.
Eric and Elena followed.
Both gloomy.
Only Riven looked… fine.
Not cheerful exactly. But not crushed either.
Because in his head?
This was plot progression.
He muttered quietly, "System. Status."
A faint translucent panel flickered into view.
[Name: Riven Goldborne]
[Title: New Transmigrator]
[Class: Forbidden Dominator]
[Transmigrator Rank: F]
[Level: 15]
[HP: 2700]
[Mana: 700]
[ATK: 500]
[M.ATK: 500]
[DEF: 500]
[Stamina: 170]
[Agility: 170]
He slowed his steps slightly.
Level 15.
He had been 12 this morning.
"Hm," he muttered. "Not bad."
He flexed his fingers subtly. The increase wasn't dramatic, but he felt it. Denser mana. Slightly faster reflex response. A little more edge.
"What about the skills?" he murmured internally. "When do I get new skills?"
[After you make a major progression of the game plot, sir.]
He snorted softly. "So beating dozens of fake vampires and uncovering a religious conspiracy isn't major?"
[It is considered Act Advancement, not Skill Milestone.]
"That's insulting."
[You are welcome.]
They exited into the temple corridor. Guards stood straighter when Eric appeared. Whispers followed Elena.
Riven?
People parted instinctively, like they were afraid of him.
He noticed.
He didn't mind.
They entered the temple dining room, long wooden tables, sunlight filtering through tall windows, the smell of warm stew and roasted meat lingering in the air.
Riven inhaled deeply.
Yes. Civilization.
Elena sat first. Graceful. Controlled. But her shoulders were heavier now.
Eric lowered himself into a seat more carefully than he wanted to admit. His wound tugged slightly when he moved.
Riven dropped into a chair like he owned the place.
"So," he said casually, scanning the table. "What's good here?"
Elena looked at him. "You are not troubled?"