Darkness.
It was not the comforting black of sleep, nor the fleeting moment of blindness when one closes their eyes. This was deeper. Colder. A space between thoughts, between existence itself. It whispered to Riven, pulling at the frayed edges of his mind like fingers grazing a loose thread.
You are no longer one of them.
Riven's consciousness stirred, but his body remained still. It was as if he were floating in a void without shape or form, without the weight of flesh anchoring him to reality. The only sensation was the distant thrum of something vast and ancient pressing against his mind. It did not speak with words, but with presence, with inevitability.
The last thing he remembered was the battle. The final shard. The unbearable light as he struck the core and let the Void surge through him, shattering the last remnants of balance. And then—
Nothing.
A flicker of warmth—distant, fragile. A voice, distant yet desperate. “Riven—wake up!”
Riven’s eyes snapped open.
The Veins of Eternity stretched out around him, the shifting expanse of light and shadow undisturbed. He was lying on the cold, smooth stone of an anchor platform, the same kind he had used to travel between realms. But something was different. The air felt heavier and The light dimmer.
A tremor ran through his limbs as he pushed himself up, his breath coming in short gasps. His fingers curled against the stone, but the sensation was wrong. His hands felt too steady. Too strong.
He glanced down.
His skin, once lined with faint traces of corruption, was now marred by deep black veins that ran from his fingertips to his forearms, pulsing faintly with dark energy. He could see them twisting beneath the surface like living things as if the Void itself had woven into his flesh.
His heart should have raced. His breathing should have been panicked. But he felt nothing. No fear. No nausea. Just a cold, clinical awareness of what had changed.
I should feel something.
A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision. He turned sharply.
Lyra hovered a few feet away, her glow dim and flickering, her form almost translucent. She looked afraid.
“Riven,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “What... what did you do?”
Riven opened his mouth, but his voice came out differently—lower, rougher, laced with an unnatural echo. “I won.”
Lyra flinched.
It was slight, barely noticeable, but Riven caught it. The way her glow wavered. The hesitation in her movements.
She wasn’t just looking at him. She was looking through him.
---
[System Message: Veilborn Status Achieved.]
Humanity Integrity: 48% (Warning: Irreversible threshold approaching)
Void Assimilation: 23% (Status: Unstable. Mutations Possible.)
New Trait Acquired: Echo of the Abyss (Presence shifts unnaturally. Causes unease in living beings.)
---
Riven exhaled sharply, watching the words burn themselves into his vision before fading. His fingers twitched. Even his breath felt wrong, his lungs filling too smoothly, too efficiently, as if his body had been recalibrated into something... else.
“How long was I out?” he asked, forcing his voice to sound steady.
Lyra hesitated. “Hours. Maybe longer. I—” she swallowed, her glow dimming further. “I tried to wake you, but... you weren’t breathing. Your heart wasn’t beating, Riven. I thought—”
She stopped herself, shaking her head. “And now you’re just—standing there. Like nothing had happened. But everything about you is wrong.”
Riven flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders. The stiffness was gone. No aches. No wounds. He should have felt exhausted after the last battle, but instead... he felt stronger.
Too strong.
He took a step forward—and Lyra instinctively floated back.
It was a small movement. A mere flicker of retreat. But it confirmed everything.
She was afraid of him.
Riven clenched his jaw. He needed to see.
He turned sharply, looking into the shifting surface of the anchor stone beneath his feet. The faint, distorted reflection of himself stared back.
And what he saw made his stomach twist.
His eyes—no longer just dark, but now edged with flickering veins of crimson light. His skin, paler, stretched too tightly over his form. His hair had darkened slightly, strands of black mixing into its natural color. But worst of all was the subtle unreality to his presence—like his body was struggling to exist in this world properly.
The moment stretched, heavy and suffocating. He wasn’t himself anymore.
Riven’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword.
He had fought for so long to hold onto himself, to resist the Void’s pull. But now, standing here, he realized the truth.
He had already lost something.
And he didn’t even know what.
“We need to move,” Riven said finally, his voice steady but lacking conviction. “The Veil won’t stay dormant forever.”
Lyra didn’t respond at first. She watched him, uncertainty and fear flickering behind her spectral gaze.
Then, softly: “Are you still Riven?”
The question cut deeper than any wound.
He wanted to say yes. That he was still the same. That nothing had changed. But the words wouldn’t come. Because he wasn’t sure if it was true anymore.
So instead, he turned away.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Before we find out what’s waiting for us next.”
And with that, Riven stepped forward—into a world that no longer felt like his own.
And behind him, Lyra hesitated before following.
The silence between them stretched.
As Riven and Lyra moved through the Veins of Eternity, the endless expanse of shifting shadows and light felt different now. It was no longer just a passage between worlds—it was watching him. He could feel it in the weight of the air, in the way the energy swirled unnaturally around him.
Was it always like this? Or is it because of me?
Lyra had barely spoken since they left the anchor platform. She stayed a few paces ahead, her glow dim and flickering like a dying ember. Normally, she would float closer, watching his blind spots, keeping pace. But now, she was keeping her distance.
It was small. Subtle. But Riven noticed.
Everything felt different.
And then—
[System Notification: Archive Access Restored.]
Riven froze.
A pulse of energy rippled through the air, stopping him in his tracks. The shifting void around them warped, twisting unnaturally as if something vast and unseen had turned its attention toward him.
Then, for the first time since his transformation—
The Archive spoke.
[System Message: Alert—Custodian Designation: Riven. Status: Veilborn.]
[Unauthorized Evolution Detected.]
[Warning: You are no longer within acceptable human parameters. Adjustments required.]
Riven’s breath slowed. He could feel it now—a vast, ancient presence behind the words. The Archive wasn’t just text on a screen. It was speaking to him.
Lyra turned sharply, her glow brightening. “Riven... something’s wrong.”
The space around them darkened.
Then—
[Initiating System Correction.]
A crushing weight pressed down on Riven’s body, like gravity had suddenly tripled. His knees buckled, his vision flickering as raw pain surged through his veins. The black corruption across his skin flared, burning from the inside out.
He clenched his jaw, forcing himself upright. “What... the hell... is this?”
Lyra moved toward him. “The Archive is trying to force you back into human form!”
[Warning: Veil Corruption Detected at 23%. Initiating Purge Sequence.]
Something tore through Riven’s chest.
He gasped, dropping to one knee as an invisible force clawed at his body, trying to rip something out of him. The black veins on his arms pulsed violently, spreading and contracting as the system tried to suppress them.
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Pain. Pure, searing pain. Like something was tearing him in half.
His vision blurred. His body convulsed.
And in the depths of his mind, the Void whispered.
“They’re trying to erase you.”
The voice was not the Archive’s. It was older. Darker. The same voice that had lurked in the edges of his thoughts ever since he absorbed too much Void energy.
Riven’s fingers dug into the ground, his breathing ragged. The system’s grip tightened, dragging him toward something he did not understand.
Lyra’s voice cut through the haze. “Riven! Fight it! If you let the Archive overwrite you, you might—”
She stopped.
She didn’t say die.
She said you might not be you anymore.
The realization hit hard.
This wasn’t just purification. This was reprogramming.
A system correction. A reset.
And deep inside, something in Riven rebelled.
[System Correction Progress: 32%...]
Riven’s vision flickered—he could feel something breaking inside him. The weight of the Archive pressing down. The burn of its energy trying to reforge him into what it wanted him to be.
No.
No, I won’t let you.
Riven clawed at the force holding him down, his blackened fingers twitching as he reached deep into the void within him—into the power he shouldn’t use.
And then—
[WARNING: Corruption Surge Detected!]
The black veins across his body exploded outward, the air around him distorting as the Void surged back in retaliation. The Archive’s grip wavered—then shattered.
With a guttural snarl, Riven broke free.
The weight lifted. The pain vanished. The Veins of Eternity stabilized.
Riven staggered to his feet, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His body felt raw like he had just survived being burned alive and then stitched back together.
Lyra floated back, her expression unreadable. “You... fought off a system override.”
Riven exhaled sharply, flexing his fingers. “They tried to erase me.”
Lyra didn’t respond.
And then—
[System Message: Archive Correction Attempt Failed.]
[Adjusting Parameters...]
[Alternative Measures Engaging.]
Riven’s stomach twisted.
The sky above them shifted.
And from the swirling void, something began descending.
A Custodian Hunter.
A figure cloaked in silver and black, its body surrounded by threads of glowing energy, its mask a flawless, emotionless mirror. A weapon formed in its hands—an obsidian blade lined with shifting symbols.
It spoke without speaking, its voice directly entering Riven’s mind.
“You have strayed too far. Submit—or be corrected.”
The air crackled with energy. The fight was inevitable.
Riven’s fingers tightened around his sword.
He was done being someone else’s pawn.
The world held its breath.
The Custodian Hunter hovered above the void, its obsidian blade humming with power. Threads of pure Archive energy curled around its body like living chains, crackling with restrained force. The mask it wore—a perfect, mirror-like surface—reflected Riven’s corrupted form back at him.
It did not speak. It did not need to.
Riven could feel its intent pressing against him like an iron weight.
It’s not here to capture me.
It’s here to erase me.
[System Alert: Archive-Class Executioner Engaged.]
* Threat Level: Lethal
* Enemy Status: [Direct Authority Over Archive System Functions]
* Warning: Evade System Correction Attempts at All Costs.
Riven’s grip on his sword tightened. His muscles coiled, his instincts screaming at him to move. The Void whispered in his veins, eager, waiting for him to call upon it.
Above him, the Executioner tilted its head slightly—then vanished.
Too fast.
Riven barely had time to react before a shockwave tore through the Veins of Eternity, sending him skidding backward across the platform. The Executioner materialized behind him, its blade already slashing toward his spine.
Instinct took over.
Riven twisted at the last moment, Void energy surging through his limbs, enhancing his reflexes. His sword met the obsidian weapon in a blinding clash of light and shadow. The impact sent a deep vibration through his bones, the sheer force behind the strike unnatural.
It’s stronger than me.
The realization came cold and fast. This wasn’t a mortal opponent. It wasn’t like the corrupted Shades or even the monstrous Guardians he had fought before. This was the Archive’s will made manifest. A machine, a force of absolute precision designed to correct anomalies like him.
And he was the anomaly.
The Executioner didn’t hesitate. Its attacks came in a relentless, mathematical rhythm, each strike calculated to force Riven into a disadvantage. A horizontal cut at his ribs—followed by a downward thrust aimed for his shoulder—then a pivot to attack his exposed side.
There was no wasted movement. No hesitation. No emotion.
Riven dodged the first two strikes, his enhanced agility barely keeping up. He parried the third—but the Executioner adapted instantly, shifting its momentum and driving its knee into his gut with crushing force.
The air ripped from Riven’s lungs as he flew backward, hitting the ground hard. Pain flared across his ribs, but he forced himself to roll before the next strike split the ground where he had just been.
Lyra’s voice rang out, sharp with urgency. “Riven! You can’t fight it like a normal enemy—it’s adapting to you in real-time!”
Riven wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes narrowing. “Then I’ll adapt faster.”
He closed his eyes for half a second—just long enough.
The Void welcomed him.
The corruption in his veins pulsed, no longer just a taint but a resource. His body felt lighter, his perception sharper, time itself seeming to stretch and contract around him.
The Executioner lunged—
And this time, Riven moved first.
A ripple of black energy erupted from his feet as he surged forward, his speed almost doubling. His sword flashed, meeting the Executioner’s blade once more—but this time, he wasn’t just blocking.
He redirected.
A flicker of Void-step altered his position mid-motion, his blade twisting at an unnatural angle, sliding past the Executioner’s guard. He struck.
The Executioner vanished again, avoiding the attack by mere inches. But as it reappeared, Riven was already moving, closing the gap before it could reset its stance.
He wasn’t letting it control the fight anymore.
The Executioner adjusted instantly.
[System Alert: Archive Combat Parameters Adjusting.]
The air shook as a massive pulse of golden energy erupted from its body, forcing Riven back. Symbols burned into the space around them, forming a shifting barrier of light.
Riven tensed. He didn’t recognize the formation—
Then his system flared red.
[WARNING: SYSTEM PURGE PROTOCOL ACTIVATING.]
Before he could react, his entire body locked up.
His limbs refused to move. His breath caught in his throat. It was inside him.
The Archive is overriding me—
A surge of searing pain tore through his head as if his system was turning against him.
Lyra screamed. “Riven! It’s shutting you down—”
The Executioner raised its sword.
One final strike—meant to erase him.
No.
The Void roared inside him, a chorus of unearthly voices rising in unison.
NO.
The black veins across Riven’s body flared, the corruption surging past 30% in an instant.
And then—
Everything shattered.
The golden barrier cracked. The pain vanished. Riven’s entire body shifted.
His breath came back sharper, but it was no longer entirely his.
His eyes glowed a deep, haunting crimson.
The Executioner hesitated. For the first time.
And Riven moved.
Faster than before. Faster than the Executioner could predict. It didn’t have a pattern for this.
His blade cut through the air, striking directly into the Executioner’s mask. The impact fractured the flawless mirror-like surface, revealing—
Nothing.
A void beneath. No face. No human remnants.
Just obedience.
And then, the mask collapsed.
The Executioner’s body froze, cracks spreading through its entire form as if the very laws of its existence had been broken.
The light in its body dimmed.
And then—
It shattered into nothingness.
The silence was suffocating.
Riven stood over the remains of the Executioner, his breath uneven. The black corruption in his veins pulsed violently, reacting to his surge of power.
I should feel relieved.
But he wasn’t.
Because deep inside—something had changed.
Lyra’s voice was barely a whisper. “Riven... what did you just do?”
Riven looked down at his hands.
The glow in his eyes hadn’t faded. The Void’s presence was still wrapped around him like a second skin.
And worst of all?
For the first time since his transformation—
He hadn’t heard the Void’s whispers at all.
Because he hadn’t needed them.
He had become them.
The Executioner was gone.
Nothing remained of it—no body, no blood, not even shattered fragments of its mask. The moment Riven’s blade had broken its form, it had ceased to exist, erased by the very system that had created it.
But the air still carried its presence.
Riven stood motionless, his breath slow and steady. His fingers twitched against the hilt of his sword, but not from exhaustion. He wasn’t tired. He wasn’t even strained. His body felt hyper-efficient, and his movements were more precise than before. He had just fought an entity powered by the Archive’s authority—
And he had won.
Not because of skill. Not because of strategy.
Because of something else.
Because of what he had become.
Lyra hadn’t moved since the battle ended.
She hovered a few feet away, her glow flickering weakly as if she had just fought the Executioner herself. But she hadn’t lifted a finger. She had only watched.
And that terrified her more than anything.
“Say something.”
Her voice was quiet. Strained.
Riven exhaled through his nose, flexing his fingers. “What do you want me to say?”
Lyra hesitated. “I don’t know. That you’re still… you?”
Riven finally turned to face her. His crimson-tinged eyes met hers, and she flinched.
Not physically. Not in any obvious way. But her glow dimmed.
She didn’t believe him.
Not fully.
Riven’s jaw tightened. “I fought it because I had to. I survived because I had to. That hasn’t changed.”
Lyra didn’t respond.
But the silence between them was loud enough.
A sharp, electric pulse ran through the air.
[System Alert: Archive-Class Executioner Eliminated.]
[Analyzing Event…]
…
…
…
[Custodian Riven is no longer considered a recoverable asset.]
[Designation Updated: HOSTILE ENTITY.]
Riven’s fingers curled into a fist. He had expected this.
“They’re done pretending,” he muttered.
Lyra’s glow flickered sharply. “Riven, do you understand what this means? They won’t just send another Executioner next time. They’ll send something worse.”
Riven turned away, staring into the shifting expanse of the Veins of Eternity. The once-endless pathways between realms had changed. He could feel it now. The currents of energy flowed differently, rippling outward like a disturbance in water.
They’re closing in.
The Archive wasn’t done with him. It was only the beginning.
Lyra hovered closer, urgency lacing her voice. “We need to leave. The Veins of Eternity aren’t safe anymore.”
Riven didn’t argue. He could already see it happening—far off in the distance, the once-fluid pathways between realms began to fracture, their stability weakening. The Archive was sealing off the exits, cutting him off from the remaining realms.
If they didn’t move now—they would be trapped.
---
[Warning: Travel Restrictions Imminent.]
* Remaining Open Gateways: 1 (Temporary Access Detected.)
* Destination: Unknown.
---
Riven’s eyes narrowed.
One door left. No destination attached. A blind jump into the unknown.
He didn’t hesitate.
“We’re going.”
Lyra hesitated for a fraction of a second—but then she nodded, her glow brightening as she activated the anchor.
The world lurched. The Veins of Eternity twisted around them.
And then—
Everything shifted.
The moment they landed, Riven knew something was wrong.
The sky above them wasn’t sky at all—but a swirling mass of blackened clouds, threaded with streaks of crimson lightning. The ground beneath them was ancient, cracked stone, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly as if responding to their presence.
But the worst part?
They weren’t alone.
At the edge of the broken landscape, figures moved.
Dark silhouettes, wrapped in tattered cloaks, their eyes glowing with the same corruption that now burned in Riven’s veins.
Veilborn.
Not lost Shades. Not mindless creatures. Others like him.
Riven’s grip on his sword tightened. “What the hell is this place?”
Lyra’s voice was barely a whisper. “I think we just discovered what happens to those the Archive rejects.”
Riven exhaled slowly.
The war wasn’t just between him and the Archive anymore.
It had already begun.
And now—he had to decide which side he was on.