Later that evening, as Riven returned back to Hagrid’s cramped dwelling with his wooden sword in hand, he already carried a vague premonition that the old cripple would not react positively to seeing him bring a weapon home.

’Please don’t beat me with a belt for it....’

Riven prayed while trembling involuntarily, because although the sword was nothing more than a harmless training tool issued by Garron, Hagrid had never been the sort of man who viewed such things rationally whenever slaves were involved.

After all, to most people, a wooden sword was simply a piece of carved timber meant for practice.

However, to a man like Hagrid, it represented something entirely different, because regardless of whether the weapon was dangerous or not, the mere sight of a slave returning home while carrying something that resembled a weapon was enough to stir uncomfortable thoughts inside his mind.

Naturally, Riven understood this better than anyone.

Which was precisely why he found himself mentally preparing for the inevitable confrontation long before he pushed open the front door, because after spending years beneath Hagrid’s control, he had become intimately familiar with the old man’s habits and knew that whenever the cripple felt threatened, insecure, or unhappy, he almost always looked for someone weaker than himself to torment.

Unfortunately, his instincts proved correct.

As the moment he stepped inside, he found Hagrid sitting in his usual chair near the center of the room while Tasha quietly stood behind, as the old man’s lone functioning eye immediately drifted toward the wooden sword resting against his shoulder.

For several moments, neither of them spoke.

Then slowly, a twisted smile began spreading across Hagrid’s face.

And the moment Riven saw that smile, he knew exactly what was coming.

"Well now..." Hagrid slurred, as his gaze remained fixed on the wooden sword.

"Look at what we’ve got here. Thomebody finally gave the little slave a weapon."

Hagrid muttered with amusement audible in his voice, as Riven instinctively lowered his head in response.

"What’s the matter?" Hagrid continued, as his smile widened further. "Not going to show it off? You walked all the way home carrying it on your shoulder. You looked pretty proud when you came through that door."

Hagrid accused, as once again, Riven remained silent.

The truth was that he had not been proud at all.

He had merely been carrying the weapon home because he did not want to place it outside and have it stolen or ruined by the elements.

However, Hagrid was not interested in the truth, as the cripple had already decided upon the version of events he preferred.

"Tell me something, boy..." Hagrid muttered, as he leaned forward slightly within his chair. "Do they tell you you’re special over there now? Ith that it? Have all thoshe little training lessons finally gone to your head?"

He asked, as the room fell quiet.

Even Tasha stopped moving for a brief moment.

Because despite the casual tone of the conversation, both she and Riven could feel the hostility lurking beneath Hagrid’s words.

"You’ve been acting different lately."

The old man’s voice grew lower.

"Thtraighter back. More eye contact. More confidence."

His eye narrowed.

"You think I haven’t noticed?"

A cold feeling settled inside Riven’s stomach, because unfortunately for him, Hagrid was right.

He had indeed grown stronger these past few weeks, as his frame was no longer lean and weak, while his posture was indeed straighter.

"You know what your problem is?" Hagrid asked, as he pointed a crooked finger toward him.

"You’re starting to forget what you are."

The accusation hung heavily within the room.

"All this training..."

The cripple laughed.

"All thith Aether nonsense..."

He shook his head.

"It’s making you dream."

Riven felt his grip tighten slightly around the wooden sword.

Immediately, Hagrid noticed.

And immediately, his smile widened.

"There it ith again."

He chuckled.

"That look."

The old man’s voice softened.

"Your mother used to look at me that way too, when I first bought her."

The moment those words left his mouth, Riven felt his body stiffen involuntarily.

Unfortunately, that reaction was exactly what Hagrid wanted.

Because the cripple’s smile grew wider than ever.

"Always glaring."

He muttered.

"Always acting like she was better than everybody around her."

His eye gleamed maliciously.

"Always looking at me like she hated me."

The room seemed colder now.

"And do you know what happened in the end?"

Hagrid asked.

"She stopped."

A pulse of anger surged through Riven’s chest.

Memories immediately resurfaced.

His mother’s face.

Her suffering.

The hopelessness.

The humiliation.

Years of misery compressed into a single moment.

Meanwhile, Hagrid continued speaking.

"By the end she didn’t look at me like that anymore, because I broke her down bit by bit until she understood that she was just a slave and I was her master."

He chuckled.

"Life fixed that problem eventually."

The old man leaned back comfortably into his chair.

"And once I’m done with you, you won’t be looking at me that way either."

His voice remained calm, almost casual, which somehow made the threat feel even worse.

"Because if there’th one thing I’ve always enjoyed in thith world..."

He said, as his eye remained fixed on Riven.

"It’s breaking people."

A long silence followed.

"I like watching proud people become obedient."

Hagrid continued.

"I like watching stubborn people learn their place."

His smile widened.

"And I especially like watching disobedient slaves realize that no matter how hard they struggle, no matter how much they dream, and no matter how much they pretend otherwise..."

The cripple pointed toward the floor.

"They always end up right back where they belong."

Hagrid concluded, as Riven remained silent.

However, for reasons he could not fully explain, Hagrid found himself becoming increasingly irritated by the boy’s silence, because years ago a conversation like this would have ended very differently, with Riven being in tears by now, or at the very least trying desperately to defend himself.

However, despite everything he had said so far, Riven simply stood there with his head lowered and endured it all in silence, as although the boy still appeared obedient on the surface, the old man could no longer shake the uncomfortable feeling that something about him had fundamentally changed over the past few weeks.

And he was not wrong, because unlike before, when his words would have filled Riven with despair, they now produced something else entirely.

Rage

Pure rage.

The kind that settled deep inside the heart and remained there.

The kind that waited.

The kind that remembered.

And while Hagrid continued talking, laughing, and trying to grind him down piece by piece, Riven simply lowered his head further and endured it all in silence, because despite the violent thoughts surging through his mind, he understood one simple truth.

Today was not the day.

However, although he knew that today was not the day, somewhere deep down he also understood that the day for him to exact his revenge was not too far away either.

"And listen to me boy, tell your insthructor tomorrow thath you need to be excused earlier than usual day afther.

It’s the moon goddess festival day afther and I need you to take me to the central campfire.

Do you understand?"

Hagrid asked, as Riven nodded with his head bown low, completely unaware of the consequences this request was going to have on his life.