Rivers of the Night - Chapter 93

Chapter 93: Someone Else
Theron dashed through a forest, his expression calm. His former arrogance seemed to have vanished into thin air.

As much fun as that character was to play, it wasn’t him. It just made those elders think that he had more weaknesses to exploit than he actually did.

His emotions were just the same as always. He rarely got too high or too low. The only real weakness he had was mention of his parents, but after slipping up that way once… he refused to allow himself to do it again.

These last few days could be considered the first time since his parents’ death that anyone had used them to attack him. It had caught him off guard and his body reacted on its own.

He had almost killed Thessa, and if not for Malaya, he would have certainly killed Sawyer.

But what he did best was adapt. That wasn’t a button he would allow others to push again.

Who cared if he got revenge for what an unrelated party said about his parents if he died before he could make the person that killed them pay dearly? What were words to the graves where his parents were buried right now? His innocent little sister?

The more Theron thought, the calmer he became and the smoother his blood flowed.

An odd feeling of lightness overcame him and his steps felt faster. His blood moved through his veins faster, and though his heartbeat became slower, it was at the expense of becoming more efficient.

It all happened subconsciously, and suddenly he was moving faster.

Theron didn’t seem to notice the change, but there was a slight glow to his necklace once again as he accelerated. His speed just barely touched onto the threshold of Silver Mancy before he noticed that he was fatiguing himself faster than usual.

It was only when Theron realized his breath had become more labored than he remembered that he finally raised an eyebrow.

‘What happened?’

The odd state vanished and his body went back to normal.

He hadn’t thought much of it because he thought that he was dealing with Veinsong again. But that didn’t quite feel like Veinsong.

Theron realized that he couldn’t just wait here, so he started to move again. This time, he felt a slight tick up in his physical abilities as he moved, but it wasn’t exaggerated enough for it to be noticed normally. If Theron wasn’t paying so much attention, he wouldn’t have thought much of it at all.

‘Odd… truly odd…’

There was one thing that was for certain. Veinsong had gotten stronger, and he didn’t need to slip back into it again to confirm that. He almost knew innately.

Was it because of his training with the old man? That didn’t seem like it was the case either.

‘I’ll be needing it. Now isn’t the time to test it out…’

Theron accelerated again, dancing and darting around. He fought a few feral beasts on the way, making short work of them even if they were deep into the Ninth Bronze Resonance.

The more he fought these existences, though, the more he wondered just how the gap between Bronze and Silver Resonance was so large.

He had felt undefeatable in Bronze Resonance so long as there was rain ever since he was in the Third Resonance. But he still didn’t feel like he could take on someone at Silver Resonance even at the Eighth Resonance now.

‘Is Third Eye really such a huge deal?’

It didn’t feel like a power gap. It felt like a control and reaction gap that he couldn’t bridge.

‘Does Gold Resonance have such a gap as well?’

It was an odd thought for Theron to have. Usually, he wouldn’t consider something so far into the future.

Ever since he began to cultivate, he found himself changing… but it was hard to tell if this was because of the cultivation or because he was slowly adapting to what life without family felt like.

From a young man wrapped in warmth every day, he was thrown into a world of chilling cold. There was nothing but damp chill around him, almost humid, but lacking in any of the warmth.

That was his world now. How could he not change?

Theron tapped a foot on a branch and fluttered down, landing in a vast expanse of nothingness. Up ahead, there was a familiar old man sitting at a stone table.

The ravaged lands that he had left in waste just days earlier had been tidied up to the point that it was perfectly fine.

Slowly, the old man looked up from the table. His expression was placid and cold, impossible to read. It was the face he put on when he was the least predictable. The sort of face he used when he just might kill any moment now.

“Why, exactly, should I not kill you?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, that’s the second time tonight someone has asked me that question,” Theron said as though he hadn’t just been threatened.

“Do you think I’m that easy to use?”

Theron blinked as though he was confused. “Aren’t you the one who said I was under your protection now?”

The old man’s eyes narrowed. Facing that gaze, Theron felt as though tiny razor blades were cutting across his cheeks and neck. It wasn’t suffocating like the Dean’s aura… but that was because he could hardly sense it at all.

This was the aura of an assassin.

“They will know.” The old man finally said.

“I’m sure you have a method to kill him without his Soul Lamp going out.”

The old man said nothing.

“This will be the last time. Do something like this again, and I won’t be so kind.”

“I can’t promise that. Rescind your promise first, and then I will gladly take a step back. Or maybe you’re confident in finding someone else that can learn [Songful Blade] and [Blood Escape] in three days?”

The old man didn’t reply, tapping his tea cup. The ripple of sound was sharp and almost grating despite being so acute.

…

Burne had already turned to run, pushing himself to his absolute limits. Even his wrinkles had flattened against his face, the fear in his gaze palpable.

He wasn’t fast enough.

His legs continued to move, but his head had long fallen from his shoulders.