Riven didn't go for Lanks.
That was the first thing that felt wrong to everyone watching.
Every time before, he closed distance. Forced the fight into a space where he had control. Where patterns mattered. Where timing decided everything.
This time—
He stepped off-line.
Not away from Lanks.
Away from the center of the fight.
"…what is he doing?" someone muttered, unable to look away.
Lanks moved instantly to follow. The moment distance opened, the control snapped back perfectly. His posture straightened, movements sharper, cleaner than before.
No hesitation.
No delay.
Exactly how it was at the start.
But Riven didn't meet him head-on.
He kept shifting.
Small steps.
Angles that didn't make sense if you were just trying to dodge.
"…that's not evasion…" another voice said, quieter now.
"…he's placing himself."
Riven's eyes weren't locked on Lanks anymore.
They kept moving.
Not randomly.
Searching.
Tracking something that didn't show.
Every attack came faster now. Gravity spikes slammed down in narrow lines. Flames cut across instead of spreading. Direct. Efficient. Built to end it quickly.
Riven avoided them—but barely.
Not clean dodges.
Not perfect reads.
Just enough.
Like he was buying time.
Like he needed the attacks to happen.
"…he's letting himself get pushed…" someone whispered.
They weren't wrong.
Each movement forced him into another position. Another angle. Another line.
And with every shift—
His gaze adjusted.
A fraction.
Again.
Again.
Then—
He stopped.
For just a second.
Right foot slightly behind. Weight uneven. Not a stable stance.
Not something he'd normally choose.
Lanks didn't hesitate.
A straight-line strike came in, faster than anything before. The space around it compressed, turning a single hit into something heavier.
Riven didn't dodge immediately.
He waited.
"…too slow—!" someone shouted.
At the last possible moment—
He moved.
Not away.
Across.
The strike missed by a hair.
But that wasn't the important part.
Riven's eyes didn't follow the attack.
They locked somewhere else.
"…there."
He said it under his breath.
But this time—
Something answered.
Not a voice.
A shift.
Small.
Barely there.
But real.
The space behind Lanks bent for a split second. Not from power. From perspective. Like something had adjusted its position after being noticed.
Riven's expression didn't change.
But his next step did.
Faster.
Direct.
He didn't aim for Lanks.
He aimed past him.
"…what—?"
Lanks reacted instantly, moving to intercept, but his motion hit a delay. Just a flicker. The same one from before.
Because for a moment—
The control wasn't focused on him.
Riven slipped through.
That tiny gap was enough.
He passed Lanks completely.
Now standing behind him.
Facing—
Nothing.
From the outside, it looked like he had made a mistake.
There was nothing there.
No enemy.
No target.
Just empty space.
"…did he miss?" someone whispered.
Riven didn't move.
Didn't turn.
"…I know you're there," he said quietly.
Silence.
Lanks' body froze again, mid-motion.
Not by choice.
Held.
The pressure didn't build.
Didn't attack.
It paused.
Like something was deciding.
"…you're not part of this fight," Riven continued. "…so why interfere?"
Still nothing.
But the air changed.
Heavier.
Not crushing.
Watching.
Closer than before.
"…Riven…" Lanks' voice came out, strained, distant. "…don't…"
Riven ignored him.
His gaze stayed fixed on that empty point.
"…you react when I see you," he said. "…you adjust when I move here."
A small step to the side.
The space shifted again.
Clearer this time.
"…so you're not everywhere."
Another step.
"…you're just… looking from somewhere."
The pressure flickered.
Just once.
That was enough.
Riven's hand tightened.
"…found it."
He moved instantly.
No buildup.
No warning.
A single step forward—
And he struck.
Not at Lanks.
Through him.
Into that exact point where nothing existed.
The moment his fist passed through—
The world broke.
Not shattered.
Skipped.
Like a frame missing.
Sound cut out for a split second.
Then came back all at once.
Lanks dropped to one knee, his body spasming as the control snapped violently, like something had been forced to disconnect for a moment.
"…you—" the voice came again.
But this time—
It wasn't coming from Lanks.
It was everywhere.
And nowhere.
Riven exhaled slowly, lowering his hand.
"…yeah," he muttered.
"…you shouldn't have let me see that."
The pressure surged back instantly.
Stronger.
Sharper.
Angrier.
But different.
Not controlled anymore.
Not clean.
It felt—
Aware.
Behind him, no one spoke.
Because now they understood something much worse than before.
This wasn't just a fight.
And it wasn't just Lanks.
Something else had been there the entire time.
Watching.
And now—
It knew Riven was watching back.
Lanks struggled to stand, barely holding himself up.
"…you did it…" he said, breath uneven. "…you actually hit it…"
Riven didn't respond.
His eyes stayed forward.
Because even after that—
He could still feel it.
That presence.
Still there.
Just… further back now.
"…not enough," Riven said quietly.
His stance shifted again.
Calm.
Controlled.
Ready.
"…then I'll hit it again."
The chapter ends. 🔥