Riven didn't wait for applause.
He didn't need it.
The arena was still trapped in silence, the echoes of his final blow hanging in the air like ghostlight. Even the Monolith seemed reluctant to pulse again, its glow dulled beneath the union of shadow and sunlight still spiraling across its surface.
Riven turned without a word.
No victory cry. No smirk. Just the faint crackle of his boots against scorched stone as he walked away from the ring—his blackened blade now sheathed, his body taut with fatigue he refused to show.
Nyx waited near the edge, her expression unreadable.
When he passed her, she fell into step without speaking.
Together, they left the Training Grounds.
No one dared follow.
No one dared speak.
They moved like wraiths through the outer corridors of the Academy, the world blurring into quiet stone and distant whispers. A few students bowed instinctively as they passed, unsure if it was respect… or fear.
Riven didn't acknowledge any of them.
