Building The First Adventurer Guild In Another World-Chapter 194: Come Home

The wind shifted. Not the kind that naturally rolled across shattered terrain or slipped through broken stone, but a slow, deliberate displacement of air, as if the world itself had paused to make room for something that didn’t belong.

Ash drifted sideways instead of falling. Heat shimmered unevenly. The black-clad figures encircling the battlefield leaned slightly inward, not moving or breathing, but adjusting like a living mechanism tightening around its target.

Riven’s gaze flickered past Valeria for a moment, settling on the figure standing to her left.

"Well... well," he said softly, his voice smooth and unhurried, carrying an unsettling warmth that chilled rather than comforted. "If it isn’t another one who chose to run."

Vanthrice froze. The change was immediate and unmistakable. The woman who had stood firm against a Lord Beast and faced infernos and shockwaves without hesitation suddenly went pale. Her fingers tightened around the halberd shaft until her knuckles whitened beneath grime and blood.

She took a few steps back, her breathing shallow as something old and buried surfaced in her eyes, something jagged and raw she had locked away years ago.

"...You," she whispered, her voice cracking despite herself.

Riven’s smile widened slowly, satisfaction evident in his expression. "There it is," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement. "Recognition. I was worried time might dull your memory."

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like an artisan examining a long-lost piece of work.

"...T-09," he said calmly.

The name landed like a blade. Vanthrice’s body stiffened as if struck; the halberd dipped slightly in her grip before she forced it upright again, her jaw tightening hard enough to tremble.

Gregor glanced between them, confusion flashing across his face, but the tension radiating from both women told him everything he needed to know: this man wasn’t just an enemy; he was something worse, part of their past.

Riven clasped his hands behind his back and began to circle slowly, boots crunching against cooled obsidian and ash, his movements measured and precise as though this were a controlled environment rather than the aftermath of a battlefield capable of erasing cities.

"I must admit," he continued in an almost conversational tone, "seeing both of you here... alive, powerful, refined... it’s gratifying."

His eyes flicked between Valeria and Vanthrice. "You’ve grown beyond projections," he noted. "Improved even, adapted in ways the elders did not anticipate."

Valeria remained still; her sword steady and angled toward him while her grip tightened with each word.

"You talk too much," she said coldly.

Riven ignored her remark entirely; his gaze remained fixed on Valeria.

"V–13," he stated instead.

The way he spoke her name was almost gentle, tinged with a strange fondness that made her skin crawl.

"You were always exceptional," he continued, his voice lowering slightly, carrying a note of quiet pride that felt more unsettling than any hatred. "Even among the others, you were... efficient."

Valeria’s killing intent surged. The temperature plummeted. Frost began to creep across the shattered stone and blackened earth, thin crystalline patterns spreading outward from her boots as her mana pulsed violently beneath her skin.

"Don’t," she warned.

Riven chuckled softly. "Still temperamental," he said. "Still refusing to acknowledge your origins."

Vanthrice finally found her voice. "...You don’t get to speak like that," she said, raising her halberd slightly; golden mana flickered weakly along its edge despite her injuries. "Not after what you..."

"What we did?" Riven finished gently.

He turned to face her fully. "Refined you?" he asked. "Sharpened you? Gave you purpose when the world would have discarded you?"

Vanthrice’s eyes shook with fury. "You call that purpose?" she snapped. "Chains? Numbers? Training halls soaked in blood?"

Riven’s expression remained unchanged. "Yes," he replied simply.

Silence enveloped them, a heavy, suffocating silence that pressed down on the battlefield like a physical weight.

"You were never meant for ordinary lives," he continued calmly. "You were born into a lineage with a role and responsibility. The clan does not create daughters; it creates instruments."

His gaze shifted back to Valeria. "And you," he said softly, "were the finest one we ever forged."

Valeria’s blade lifted slightly. "Say that again," she demanded, her voice low and steady, a lethal whisper.

Riven smiled knowingly. "Weapon," he repeated.

The ground beneath her cracked as a pulse of mana rolled outward, scattering ash and forcing several black-clad figures to subtly adjust their stances.

Riven’s smile widened further. "There it is," he murmured..."that reaction, that edge, that refusal to break, that’s what made you special."

Valeria’s eyes burned with intensity. "You don’t get to talk like you own me," she stated firmly. "Not anymore."

Riven raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "Own you?" he echoed back at her incredulously. "V–13, you misunderstand me completely, ownership implies limitation! What we did was... investment."

Gregor felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest at the word ’investment.’ It sounded cold and clinical against the backdrop of their shared history.

Riven gestured lightly toward the battlefield, where the fallen Lion lay amidst the shattered land.

"Look at you," he continued. "A Lord Beast brought down by your hand. Territory erased. Survivors clinging to life behind you. This is precisely what you were created for."

Valeria stepped forward, her sword aimed directly at his throat. "Enough," she demanded. "How did you find us? We’ve been off the map for years, no trails, no signals, nothing."

Riven’s smile softened as he replied, "You really think that hiding from the world means hiding from the clan?" He shook his head gently. "We knew where you were from the moment you ran."

Valeria’s pupils constricted in shock. "What?"

"The elders were... patient," Riven explained. "They wanted to see what would happen, whether their creations would crumble or evolve." His eyes gleamed with a mix of curiosity and admiration. "And look at the result."

Valeria’s hands trembled slightly as she processed his words. "You watched us all this time?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

Gregor felt a twist of unease in his chest.

Riven clasped his hands together again, continuing, "Your growth has been fascinating, especially this little excursion." He gestured toward the Lion’s corpse. "Did you really believe coming here was just coincidence?"

Valeria’s breath caught in her throat.

Riven wagged a finger playfully. "No, V–13," he said lightly. "Paths like this don’t just happen; opportunities like this don’t simply appear."

Gregor’s stomach dropped as realization set in.

Riven glanced briefly at him before continuing, "You thought this mission was organic, a lucky find or a desperate gamble."

Valeria’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Riven smiled knowingly. "We nudged things along," he admitted. "Information flows, contracts move... certain beasts become more visible."

Gregor clenched his jaw tightly. "You set this up," he stated flatly.

"Opportunity," Riven corrected with a casual shrug.

Valeria’s aura flared violently as she hissed through gritted teeth, "You used us."

Riven tilted his head slightly and replied, "You say that like it’s new."

The impact of his words struck harder than any blow could have; Valeria’s rage burned hot enough to distort the air around her. But Riven wasn’t focused on her anymore.

His gaze shifted past her to the Lion lying lifeless on the ground.

His eyes narrowed slightly before flicking back to Valeria; for the first time since arriving, something akin to surprise crossed his face.

"...Interesting."

Valeria didn’t respond. But her body... did. A flush crept across her skin. Crimson seeped beneath her neck and spread over her arms, radiating heat like a furnace barely held in check. The ground near her boots darkened, steam rising faintly where drops of blood had fallen.

Riven glanced back at the Lion. The corpse had transformed. It wasn’t just drained; it had shriveled, collapsing inward as if hollowed out from within. Riven’s eyes widened slightly.

"...You’ve been doing it all along," he said softly.

Valeria remained silent, her breathing slow and controlled. Yet beneath that calm facade, her mana churned violently, pulsing like a living entity below her skin.

Riven stared at her for a long moment and then burst into laughter, a deep, full sound that echoed across the desolate landscape.

"Magnificent," he said, his eyes glinting with a hint of pride. "You never waste anything, do you?"

Valeria’s silence was her response.

Riven nodded slowly, admiration evident in his expression. "Absorbing a Lord Beast’s blood while conversing... stabilizing your mana flow mid-combat... keeping it hidden even from me..."

He shook his head appreciatively. "You’ve exceeded all expectations."

The black-clad figures shifted subtly, tension rippling through their ranks.

Riven raised a hand slightly, and they froze instantly. His gaze locked onto Valeria, warm yet sharp and terrifying.

"Well then," he said softly. "V–13."

"Enough wandering," he continued. "Enough pretending."

He extended his hand slightly. "Come home."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with meaning.

"After all," he added with a calm, chilling smile, "you are the greatest weapon the clan has produced in over a thousand years."

His eyes gleamed. "We cannot allow such a valuable asset... to go to waste."