Riven thought he could outrun the past, that if he ignored Kael's taunts and kept his head down, things would eventually settle. That Kael would grow bored and leave him alone.
He was wrong.
The morning air was cool, the kind that whispered of storms long past and ones yet to come. The streets were unusually quiet for that hour—no cars, no vendors, no barking dogs. Just silence and the soft rhythm of his footsteps echoing against empty pavement. The sky had barely shaken off its sleep, a thin streak of pale orange struggling to push back the shadows.
Riven took the alley shortcut, as he always did.
But something was off.
Too quiet.
He slowed down.
Too late.
A heavy footstep behind him. Another ahead. He froze as a figure stepped out from the shadows. Then another. Then two more. Four in total. Surrounding him. They didn't look like random thugs—no, they were too calm. Too ready. Their eyes gleamed like they knew a secret, like they knew him.
"You've got the wrong guy," Riven said, voice low, cautious.
One of them chuckled. "Do we?"
The tallest among them cracked his knuckles, taking a slow step forward. "Let's see if the 'wrong guy' fights like that guy."
And then they lunged.
Riven didn't want to fight. He hated fighting. But something deep in his body remembered. Muscle memory. Reflex. Instinct. He moved before he could think, his body acting like it had just been waiting for the bell to ring.
His fist struck the first one in the throat before the man could blink. He spun, ducked, slammed his elbow into another's ribs, twisted, kicked the third one into the alley wall. The fourth tried to grapple him—bad mistake. Riven dropped his weight, twisted his body, and hurled the man over his shoulder with a brutal thud.
Less than a minute.
It was over.
Four groaning bodies lay sprawled on the alley floor, coughing, whimpering, clutching ribs and jaws. One of them had blood trickling from his mouth.
Riven stood in the center, chest heaving, fists clenched tight. He looked down at his hands.
Knuckles split. Blood dripping. Shaking—not from exhaustion, but from something else.
From familiarity.
A cut above his eyebrow dripped a slow, stinging line of blood down his cheek. He reached up, wiped it with the back of his hand. For a moment, everything blurred. His vision swam. The alley became something else—somewhere else.
The underground ring.
The bloodstained mat.
The roar of a hidden crowd.
The blinding spotlight above him.
"Hidden Fist! Hidden Fist!"
Riven staggered back a step, heart pounding against his ribs. No... I'm not him. Not anymore.
Then—
Clapping.
Slow. Deliberate.
He turned his head.
Kael leaned casually against a lamppost at the edge of the alley, dressed in his usual school uniform, hands in his pockets, a dangerous glint in his eyes. The rising sun cast golden light across his face, catching on the darkening bruise on his jaw.
"Wow," Kael said, pushing off the post. "Less than a minute. I was expecting... longer."
Riven's eyes narrowed. "You set this up."
Kael grinned, not even trying to deny it. "Consider it a warm-up. A friendly test. Gotta make sure the blade hasn't gone completely dull."
Riven's fists clenched tighter. "You're insane."
"No," Kael said, stepping closer, voice low and amused. "I'm interested." His eyes flicked to the cut on Riven's brow, then to the blood on his hands. "Although... I'll admit. One of them actually managed to land a hit on you."
He tilted his head slightly, mock-thoughtful. "I guess even a legendary blade starts to rust without a whetstone."
Riven's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Deep inside, something twisted. He had thought he was weaker. Slower. Softer. That by burying the Hidden Fist, he'd left the ring behind for good.
Kael stepped closer, the rising sun catching the edge of Riven's jaw, where there was a small bruise from one of the men who turned on him.
"You set this up?" Riven's voice was low, cold.
Kael shrugged. "Consider it a warm-up. Thought I'd help you remember who you are."
Riven's jaw tightened. "You're insane."
"No," Kael said, grin widening. "I'm interested."
He turned to leave, but paused just as he passed Riven.
"Oh, and by the way," Kael said casually, not even looking back. "Those guys? They weren't alone. They've got friends. Stronger ones. And when they find out what you did to their buddies, they'll come for you."
Riven's gaze darkened.
Kael continued walking, hands in his pockets. "Guess we'll find out soon if the Hidden Fist is still sharp—or if it's gone dull and rusted for good."
Riven stood there in silence. His heartbeat slowed, but the weight in his chest stayed heavy. The blood from his temple trailed down his jawline. This wasn't over.
Not even close.