Riven glanced at the slate, then back at her.
"…Sure," he said.
She nodded once, before leading him toward the backwing.
Once there, Riven fought one of the guilds instructors.
It was a different one from last time.
Older, heavier stance, strength pulsing beneath his skin. Mid-stage Inner Essence.
An opponent he'd never have beat before the mission.
But it was a different situation now.
The exchange lasted less than a minute.
No injuries. No flair. Just clean movement, precise strikes, and the quiet certainty of someone who knew exactly how much force to use—and how little was needed.
When it was over, the instructor raised a hand, breathing slightly heavier than Riven.
"That's sufficient," he said.
Riven was escorted back to the counter.
The same clerk updated the slate, her brush moving in quick, practiced strokes.
"Congratulations," she said. "You're a Silver Rank Mercenary now."
She slid a new badge across the counter—same emblem, heavier weight. No ceremony attached.
No one asked about Yue Lin.
There was no reason to.
They hadn't registered the mission as a formal party. No shared contract. No linked report. To the guild, this had been a single mercenary completing a task and turning in materials.
Whatever had happened beyond that… wasn't their concern.
Riven took the badge and stepped away from the counter and left the guild.
Outside, Verdance continued exactly as it had before.
Lanterns swayed. Merchants argued prices.
Riven drifted through it for a while after leaving the guild, letting the current of people carry him across bridges and around trunks without purpose. Conversations brushed past him. Laughter. Bargaining. The distant clang of metal on metal from a forge somewhere deeper in the canopy.
It all felt… detached.
Like watching a river from the bank instead of standing in it.
Eventually, he veered off toward an area with inns—one of the mid-level platforms where foot traffic thinned and the lanterns hung lower. A small sign carved into the bark advertised short-term lodging.
He went inside and quietly rented a room.
It was nothing more than a hollowed chamber grown into the tree itself. Smooth wooden walls. A low bed padded with woven fiber. A narrow window slit that let in filtered green light and the faint hum of the city beyond.
Riven closed the door behind him.
The sounds dulled instantly.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and didn't move for a while.
Now that he'd returned he didn't know what to do next.
But either way, a small break felt good to him.
He lay down a bit, gaze drifting across the ceiling.
After a while he exhaled and sat up again.
Instead of lazing around, he might as well get to testing out the effects of his remaining beast cores.
Riven reached for the ring.
The greater feral wind core came out first.
It was heavier than the others, not in mass but in presence—compressed wind-aspected qi folded tight around a pale center.
He pulled out a needle and began.
The process was familiar by now. He slowly guided the energy inward. Wind qi bled into his channels, sharp at first, then smoothing as it merged with what was already there.
When it was done, Riven opened his eyes and checked.
A small increase.
He focused inward, measuring carefully.
0.1 percent.
A total of eleven point three percent covered.
Riven stared at the core's empty shell for a moment before letting it crumble into useless dust.
He'd hoped for more from a Greater Ferals core.
Even the Lesser Feral cores from before the trials had given him point one percent.
It was the same increase as here.
He frowned faintly and pulled out one of the lesser wind cores next, mostly out of stubbornness. If nothing else, it would confirm the trend.
The absorption was quicker. Easier.
And when he checked again—
Nothing.
No visible increase. No shift he could reliably measure.
Riven let out a quiet breath and stopped there.
It really fell off...
He looked at the remaining four cores sitting in his spatial ring.
There's no reason to keep them.
With that he decided to give these cores to Bosu later, convinced he could at least get money for them.
But with the testing done, Riven was lost again.
Except this time, he decided to actually think about his possibilities instead of lying back down.
His thoughts circled for a moment, touching on money, missions, maps—
Then settled somewhere heavier.
Vaern.
The body was still in his spatial ring, preserved exactly as it had been when he stored it. Untouched. Waiting. He hadn't let himself think about it properly before—there had always been something immediate demanding his attention.
Now there wasn't.
He owed Vaern more than leaving him rotting in his ring.
At the very least, he should return him to the sect.
A proper burial. A place he belonged.
With more than three months left until the auction, there was time. Enough, if he didn't waste it.
Riven reached into the ring and pulled out a small object he rarely touched.
A small silver disc, cool against his palm, its surface etched with fine, unfamiliar lines. From its center, a pointer emanated a steady green glow, unwavering as it aimed toward a single direction.
Elder Syen's gift.
He had carried it on his person for weeks out of habit, before eventually storing it in the ring for safety. Now, he turned it slowly in his hand, watching the pointer refuse to drift no matter how he angled it.
Riven stared down at it, expression settling.
Elder Syen had said this would help him find his way back to the sect.
He put the compass down on the bed and reached for the map next.
The paper unfolded across his lap, edges soft from repeated handling. Verdance sat near its center, surrounded by familiar terrain—ridges, gullies and forests.
Riven aligned the map as best he could, then adjusted the compass again.
The glowing pointer cut cleanly across the parchment.
Not precise.
But clear enough.
"…So that way," he murmured.
It wasn't a precise location. But it gave him a general bearing.
And that was enough.
He'd just have to travel in that direction.
Riven folded the map and stood.
There was no reason to rush, but there was no reason to linger either. He still needed money. Supplies. Information. Better maps didn't buy themselves, and neither did safe passage across long distances.
If he was leaving Verdance again, he might as well be paid for it.
He slipped the compass back into the ring and turned toward the door.
First, the guild.
Public Tree No. 1 was just as busy as before, the mercenary boards crowded with bodies and noise. Riven didn't linger on the Timber section this time. He moved past it without slowing, eyes scanning the Bronze board only briefly before stopping at Silver.
The missions there were fewer. Longer routes. Higher risk. Better rewards.
He read in silence, dismissing anything that veered too far off-course or tied him down for too long. Escort contracts with unpredictable clients. Regional suppression requests that hinted at drawn-out conflicts.
Eventually, he found one that fit.
A silver-rank subjugation mission, posted along a route that ran broadly in the same direction as the compass's pull. No time limit. Open completion. Enough danger to be worth the points.
That would do.
He logged the mission without ceremony and left the guild as quietly as he'd entered.
Bosu's shop came next.
The merchant looked up as Riven stepped inside again, surprise flashing across his face before he smoothed it away.
"…Back already?" Bosu asked.
Riven set the remaining beast cores on the counter—four lesser feral wind cores, pale and unassuming.
"I forgot to give you these," he said.
Bosu examined them briefly, then nodded. "Lesser Feral beast cores. Not bad. I can give you one spirit stone each."
Riven agreed without haggling.
As Bosu counted out the stones, he glanced up again. "What do you plan to do now?"
Riven accepted the payment. "Leave. I found a new mission."
Bosu paused for a second, then sighed softly. "You're tough."
Riven didn't respond.
He turned and left.
Verdance swallowed him once more—bridges, lanterns, voices—then let him go just as easily. When he passed beneath the living archway and the forest closed in behind him, the city faded to a distant hum.
Riven didn't look back.