Shadow Reborn

Chapter 3

Riven plunged deeper into the dense foliage, the soles of his feet silently pressing against the large, gnarled roots that crisscrossed the forest floor. Sharp branches lashed against his near-naked body, leaving painful scrapes across his skin.

"Split up! Spread out to the north and east!"

"There are muddy tracks towards the river! He must have gone that way!"

Magical torches flared one by one, their strange light swaying and fluttering through the thick undergrowth and around massive tree trunks. Riven's eyes sharpened at the sight, finding this new environment increasingly bizarre.

He quickened his pace, moving further away from his pursuers. Hiding in a forest was nothing new to him. At this moment, he had no intention of fighting. Not when he was unarmed, weakened, and without protective clothing. He didn't even know the true combat skills of these unfamiliar soldiers; confronting them now would be nothing short of suicide.

His steps slowed as he neared a thick bush, from which the distinct sound of a flowing river reached his ears. Without hesitation, he forced his way through the dense foliage. A rapidly flowing river stretched out before him. On the opposite bank, a sheer rock face loomed. Further down, the current appeared to narrow, leading to a lower section of the cliff. The gap was tight, just wide enough for someone to slip beneath it.

That's it! A small, grim smile touched Riven's lips as his body shot down the steep slope. However, the slippery ground betrayed his footing, causing him to stumble and fall, his unprotected body slamming against hard rock.

"Where did he go?!"

"He couldn't have just vanished!"

"Check under the cliff! Don't let him escape!"

The executioners' shouts were deafening. Riven winced at the sharp pain piercing his back. He half-stumbled to his feet, then plunged into the narrow crevice beneath the cliff, nestled among tree roots and damp rocks.

Riven lay still, shivering, holding his breath as footsteps stomped on the hard ground above him, the executioners sweeping the area where he had fallen.

The light from the magical torches danced into the rocky crevice where he hid, but none of them realized their quarry was concealed directly beneath their feet. In his silence, his ears sharpened, counting their steps one by one.

Twenty steps... thirty...

Until finally, the voices receded into the distance, leaving only the sound of the river. They were gone. Slowly, he emerged from the narrow crevice.

He gradually lifted his face, gazing at the river's surface, which shimmered silver under the moonlight. His body still trembled from the cold. He leaned slowly against a large rock, trying to regulate his breathing.

Where am I?

What is this place?

This world... it was strange. Too alien. Everything seemed ancient... horse-drawn carriages, sword-wielding executioners, suits of armor, even the currency consisted of gold and silver coins. And he had just witnessed torches burning without flame, light appearing from thin air, and people chasing him like hunters pursuing wild game.

"This is insane," he muttered to himself. "Am I dreaming? Or... am I dead?"

His gaze dropped to his trembling hands. The small cuts from branches and thorns stung, but it was precisely these physical sensations that cemented the reality of his situation..

His eyes then caught a faint glint at the edge of a large rock—a tiny reflection of light. Riven squinted, then slowly rose, treading cautiously on the slippery ground, his body poised to leap back should the object prove dangerous, perhaps a bomb or a trap they had laid. But upon reaching and touching it, he discovered it was merely a thick piece of fabric, embroidered with golden threads. A luxurious cloak, likely belonging to a noble or an important figure, somehow abandoned here.

He glanced around. No one was in sight. No trace of its owner. Perhaps it was discarded. Or left behind.

He draped it over his body. It was enough to provide warmth and was far preferable to his bare skin constantly assailed by the night air.

"Not bad," he murmured, "At least I'm not naked like a madman anymore."

Just as he was about to turn away, another faint light caught his attention—a delicate silver glow emanating from behind a bush at the cliff's edge. He stepped forward, carefully parting the foliage.

"A cave?" he whispered.

A grim smile touched the corner of Riven's lips as he gazed at the gaping mouth of the cave before him—dark and seemingly deserted. A perfect place to hide for the night.

The moment his foot touched the cold cave floor, a blinding light suddenly exploded before his eyes. His body tensed reflexively, ready to leap back, but his gaze was transfixed by the figure floating within that light, causing his eyes to widen involuntarily.

A man... suspended motionless in the air with his eyes closed, his lithe body draped in a thin white robe. He was perfectly still, like a statue. His skin was pale, porcelain-white, and his long hair cascaded downwards in shimmering silver strands. And his body glowed softly with a faint silver aura swirling around him, like a living spiritual mist.

"W-what is this?" Riven whispered, his sharp gaze unwavering as he watched the ethereal figure.

His logic—usually swift in analyzing current situations—suddenly froze. His mind felt blank. Everything he had just witnessed... horse-drawn carriages, armored executioners, gold and silver coins, strange magic, and now... a man floating directly before his eyes?!

He desperately tried to find a logical explanation, but none fit this scene. This was too absurd, even by the standards of the insane world he had just entered.

His mind struggled for answers—hypnosis? A light projection? A narcotic effect? But all explanations crumbled one by one when his hand slowly reached out and touched the man. The smooth skin felt warm beneath his touch, indicating that the person was no illusion at all, but a human being just like himself.

What kind of human are you...? Are you some kind of... ancient ascetic?

It was then that the man's eyelids slowly opened, revealing glowing, menacing crimson eyes.

Riven froze in place. His pupils dilated before he could even take a step back.

In a split second, an explosion of energy erupted from the man's body. The air inside the cave instantly roared, and Riven didn't even have time to react. His body was lifted from the ground and violently slammed against the stone wall.

Riven coughed violently, his body writhing weakly on the rocky ground. Every breath felt like a knife tearing through his lungs.

He saw no movement.

In just a blink, a cold hand had clamped around his neck, pressing with immense force that nearly robbed Riven of his senses. He felt as if his throat were being flayed.

Not just his neck, but his entire body felt paralyzed by an invisible pressure. His veins tightened, his breath hitched, and the energy within him felt as if it were being drained, as if the world itself rejected his existence.

His body hung suspended.

Unable to move. Unable to breathe.

What kind of attack is this...?

The power that had just struck him was clearly not military technique. Not martial arts. Not human strength as he knew it.

He had fought against world-class assassins. People hunted by the CIA and FBI. He had gone one-on-one in open battle against mercenaries paid millions of dollars for a single life. He had even survived ambushes by fully armed elite forces in the middle of a desert.

And he had always won. Always been able to read his opponent's movements.

But now?

The man before him seemed to move outside the laws of physics. Not like the killers he usually encountered. Not like a human. Not even like a creature from any world he knew.

This... what kind of place is this?

His eyes stared at the man's face—cold.

"Who... are... you...?" he rasped, his voice choked.

His breath was growing shallow. "It makes no sense... impossible... Can something like this truly exist in the world?"