A lone figure danced through the forest, laughing like a madman under the pale moonlight. A sword flashed in his hands—its arc catching the glow of the moon with every wild swing.
It was Riven.
"I told you I'd be back!" he shouted, hacking down another slime. "Revenge, baby! Hahahaha!"
He was utterly lost in the chaos, cutting through every slime that dared bounce into his path. To be fair, slimes weren't exactly tough opponents but to Riven, this was war. Glorious, gooey war.
By the time the first rays of sunlight touched the treetops, Riven lay collapsed at the base of a tree, his back pressed against the bark. A wide grin stretched across his face, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion.
He looked down at the bulging sack beside him stuffed with slime cores. Spark snored nearby, curled up and clearly over it.
"We're gonna be rich…" Riven muttered, then burst out laughing. "Ahahahaha!"
Then, without warning, he smacked himself in the face.
"Okay, calm down, Riven. You're starting to lose it."
He took a deep breath.
He hadn't been slaughtering slimes just for revenge… this was training. Sword training. Self-taught, sure, mostly "swing and pray" but it was something.
And something felt off. Or maybe… right?
For someone with no memory, he fought with surprising instinct. His body moved like it had done this before: smooth, precise, powerful. No cramps, no fatigue in his arms, and his stamina? Unshakable. It was only sleep that wore him down.
"Like my body remembers what I don't," Riven muttered, staring down at his callus-free hands.
No doubt about it he must've been a warrior in his past life. And not just any warrior… probably a badass. The thought made him grin.
"C'mon, Spark," Riven muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "We've got business to take care of."
But exhaustion clung to him like a heavy fog. His steps were unsteady, and after only a few paces, his knees buckled. He collapsed onto the grass with a soft thud.
Sleep took him immediately.
And so did the nightmare.
Screams echoed through a sky choked with smoke. The ground trembled beneath him cracked and scorched like a battlefield. In the chaos, children cried out, their voices piercing through the roar of destruction. One child stood just ahead, reaching out blindly, calling for his mother.
Riven staggered forward, his arm outstretched. But as the child looked up at him, there was no relief in his eyes, only terror.
The boy recoiled.
Then everything vanished.
He jolted awake, breath catching in his throat. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting golden light over the quiet clearing. His belongings were untouched. Spark lay nearby, dozing peacefully.
But Riven's mind was still stuck in that dream. The fear in the child's eyes. The way he looked at him not with hope, but horror.
Riven sat up slowly, rubbing his forehead.
"…I didn't like that," he whispered. "Something about it, watching those kids cry felt like it tore straight through me."
He placed a hand over his chest and his heart was pounding uncontrollably.
"Calm down…" he muttered.
He closed his eyes, drawing in a long, steady breath… and then exhaled. Slowly, his heartbeat began to settle. The tension in his body eased. When he opened his eyes again, something inside him felt… different.
Looking down, his fingers rested naturally on the hilt of his sword. Almost without thinking, he drew it and gave it a clean, fluid swing through the air. The movement was precise. Balanced. Controlled.
He paused, staring at his own hands.
That felt… sharper. Stronger. Quicker.
"How…?" he whispered.
Something had changed, but he didn't know what. All he knew was that he felt stronger, sharper, more attuned than before.
He glanced back toward the forest.
"Was it… because I killed those slimes?" he muttered.
"Whatever," he muttered, shaking it off. "Guess I'm just built differently."
He reached down and gave Spark a scratch behind the ears.
"Good boy. Thanks for keeping watch."
With a small grin, he stood up and stretched.
"Alright, let's get moving."
Back in town, Riven stepped into the Adventurers' Guild, dropping the sack of slime cores onto the counter with a satisfying thud.
The receptionist blinked. "Whoa that's… a lot."
Riven's eyes lit up as she handed over a hefty pouch of Mora. It almost sparkled in the light, and for a second, he swore his pupils turned into golden coins.
This time, no scams. Just straight profit.
"Sign me up!" he shouted with a wide grin.
And just like that, he joined the guild. Honestly, the process was easier than expected. He also handed over the mysterious note he'd found on his first day awake. The receptionist took it with a curious look and nodded.
"We'll do what we can. If this message is for a family member, they'll be contacted."
That… actually made him feel good. Like he'd done something right.
Riven stepped outside and looked out over the small town. He took a deep breath.
"Alright, Spark food time."
He had enjoyed his stay in Oakfield. It was quiet, peaceful… but like all things, it was time to move on.
Their next destination? Mondstadt.
Beside him was Mona, his strange, mysterious new friend. Together, they rode her wagon down the long trail. The journey took a few days, but thankfully, it was calm. No monsters. No nightmares. They took turns sleeping while the other kept watch, and Riven quickly learned something important: Mona traveled with way too many books.
He ended up sleeping on the hard grass floor most nights, silently regretting not buying a tent.
Eventually, they passed through the Stormbearer Mountains… and what awaited him on the other side left him breathless.
There it was sprawled across a distant island, surrounded by water and kissed by the wind, a massive city. Grand towers, spinning windmills, and bridges connecting the land like threads of silk. It shimmered under the sun like a dream.
He stood there, stunned.
Mona glanced over with a smile.
"Welcome to the City of Freedom," she said.