Chapter 198: Whetstone

Chapter 198: Whetstone The battlefield remained tumultuous following the final collapse of a combatant; rather than quieting, it seemed to resonate with the residual effects of violence. The air was thick with heat and mana, as if the very world struggled to reconcile with the events that had transpired.


The ground resembled a graveyard, littered with shattered armor and severed limbs. The soil had darkened into a viscous crimson mud where blood pooled and spread in slow, heavy currents. At the center of this chaos stood Valeria, motionless, her sword lowered at her side while she maintained controlled and measured breaths.


Surrounding her were the remnants of the 4-Star Master Knights who had charged at her moments earlier; their once-cohesive formation had devolved into scattered corpses.


Their power was extinguished with such clinical precision that the encounter felt less like a battle and more akin to an execution executed by an overwhelming force of nature.


Standing at the edge of a shattered ridge, Riven surveyed the battlefield below.


With his hands clasped behind his back and a relaxed posture, he appeared almost indifferent to the chaos unfolding before him. His long dark coat fluttered slightly in the warm air rising from the scorched earth, while his sharp, observant eyes followed Valeria’s every move with an unsettling calmness.


For most people, the scene would be horrifying: trained soldiers falling one by one, formations collapsing, bodies reduced to mere fragments. But for Riven, it was all about data, observation and evaluation.


He scanned the battlefield methodically, taking note of angles, timing, movement patterns, and the efficiency of her strikes. He admired her precise control over mana and how she conserved energy even amid overwhelming odds. Each detail added to his understanding of her capabilities in this brutal engagement.


He didn’t witness men dying; he observed a performance.


"...Still flawless," he murmured to himself, his voice low and contemplative, like a craftsman examining a finished masterpiece.


"No wasted motion, no hesitation. Her instincts have sharpened even further... she doesn’t just react to attacks anymore; she anticipates them before they take shape. Every strike lands where it causes the most disruption, not merely the most damage. That’s the real difference."


His eyes narrowed slightly as Valeria stepped through the remnants of another fallen Master Knight, her crimson armor soaked in blood that wasn’t her own. Despite her wounds, her movements remained steady.


"She’s improved," he continued quietly, almost with admiration. "Far more than I expected."


He tilted his head, watching as she pivoted mid-step, intercepting an incoming strike from a surviving knight and redirecting it into his ally before finishing both off with a single swing. The motion was seamless and clean, almost elegant in its brutality.


"No," Riven corrected himself softly, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "She hasn’t improved. She’s returned to form."


Below him, another BOOM echoed across the battlefield as Valeria’s strike sent shockwaves through the ground, hurling debris into the air and toppling several remaining fighters.


He watched intently, his eyes glinting as bodies continued to fall around him. To Riven, these men were not comrades; they were merely tools, a whetstone, a gift.


"Good," he thought, the smile on his face deepening just a touch. "Very good."


In his mind, it was all quite straightforward. These soldiers held value only in how well they could sharpen her skills, forcing her to move, think, and realign her instincts. If they fell in battle, they had fulfilled their purpose. If they survived, they would emerge stronger from the experience. Either way benefited him, strengthened the Clan, and honed the weapon he had forged.


He observed as another Master Knight charged at Valeria, blade glowing with concentrated mana. For a moment, his interest piqued; he analyzed the angle and timing of the attack, considering whether she might be pushed to exert more effort than necessary.


But that moment passed quickly. Valeria shifted with precision, seized the man’s wrist, and plunged her blade through his chest before he could complete his strike.


Riven let out a soft exhale, almost disappointed.


"...Still too predictable," he murmured.


His attention then flickered briefly to other parts of the battlefield where Vanthrice moved like a storm among the Expert Knights, her halberd carving arcs of destruction as bodies crumpled around her.


Gregor fought valiantly in the distance, his movements rough and heavy, yet resolute as he held his ground against multiple opponents, absorbing blows but refusing to yield.


Riven watched intently, taking in every detail before his gaze shifted back to Valeria.


"...You were always the sharpest," he thought. "Even back when you were still learning how to wield a blade."


A loud boom reverberated across the battlefield as the last of her immediate attackers fell. For the first time since the fighting erupted, Valeria paused.


She stood amidst a field of corpses, blood pooling beneath her boots, her sword hanging loosely at her side while her chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths.


Her eyes lifted not searching or scanning, but locking directly onto Riven’s from across the distance. The moment stretched out, thick with silence.


Riven met her gaze easily, his expression calm and composed as if they were merely sharing a conversation in a quiet hall rather than standing on a blood-soaked battlefield.


Then he began to clap. Each sound echoed clearly over the devastated terrain, slicing through the lingering rumble of mana storms and distant clashes.


"Well done," he called out effortlessly. "Truly... well done."


Valeria didn’t respond. Instead, an icy tension enveloped her as she narrowed her eyes slightly; a palpable killing intent radiated from her presence like pressure pushing outward.


Riven’s smile broadened. "You haven’t lost your edge," he continued casually. "Not at all. If anything, it’s sharper now than ever before, the control, the instinct, even how you conserve energy while dispatching foes... it’s all still there. Everything we built into you is functioning perfectly."


Valeria tightened her grip on her sword.


"And Vanthrice," he added nonchalantly while glancing past her towards the carnage she had wrought. "She’s just as fierce and efficient, merciless too. You two have always been the most... reliable."


Silence hung between them for a moment.


Finally, Valeria spoke in a low voice that was steady yet cold enough to freeze the air around them: "Stop talking."


Riven chuckled softly. "Ah," he said with amusement, "there it is, that tone I’ve missed so much."


He stepped forward along the ridge with deliberate slowness; his boots crunched against fractured stone without breaking eye contact with her.


"You know," he continued smoothly, "watching you now brings back memories of those early days, training halls filled with endless drills and your refusal to break when others did. You always adapted faster than anyone else; pain never slowed you down; failure only sharpened your resolve."


Valeria’s eyes flickered at his words.


Riven noticed it right away.


"And now look at you," he said, his voice smooth and almost contemplative. "Here you are, standing in the middle of a battlefield, drenched in blood, cutting down Master Knights as if they were mere obstacles. You’ve truly become what you were destined to be."


He paused for a moment, then added with a chilling smile, "I can still hear the screams of the Weapons. It’s like music to my ears..."


His grin widened as he turned to Valeria. "Do you remember the scream of... Azhrae...."


Before he can finish....


Something shifted in Valeria’s expression; her eyes transformed into deep pools of crimson.


A fierce, blood-red glow ignited within them, and an oppressive aura surged around her, sending tremors through the ground beneath her feet.


Boom.


The earth fractured as Mana erupted from her body. The air compressed around her like a storm gathering strength at its core.


Riven’s smile remained intact, if anything, it grew sharper.


"...There it is," he whispered with evident satisfaction.


In an instant, Valeria vanished; the ground crumbled beneath her as she shot forward, a blur of crimson lightning streaking across the battlefield. Shockwaves rippled outward in her wake as the very air screamed around her.


Boom.


Bang.


Crack.


Her speed closed the distance between them in no time at all. She appeared above him, sword poised to strike.


With terrifying force, she brought the blade downwards; Mana coiled along its edge with such pressure that it threatened to split the ridge beneath him in two.


This was not just a strike fueled by strength but by years of pent-up rage distilled into one lethal motion aimed at ending him before he could even react. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow down.


Riven looked up at her, tilted his head slightly and smiled.