They didn't make it far from the silent field, and though the fog had begun to clear, something in the air still felt unusual.
The silence had pressure to it, as if the ground was fondling them.
"I don't feel good about this place, Veyla," Riven said, glancing around as if something were following them.
She stopped just ahead of him, her back stiff. "Something seems to be following us," she whispered, her voice sounding alarming.
He glanced over his shoulder to check, but only saw gray trees, the surrounding grass, and patches of mud-covered stones.
"I feel it as well, but I don't seem to understand where it's coming from," he whispered, his hands hovering over the pouch.
Then they heard something—sloppy footsteps, but not behind them—beside them.
He turned slowly, and what he saw made him freeze at that point.
A figure stood only a few feet away from him, not approaching—just standing there, watching them silently.
Its shape was almost exactly his height, same body build, same stance, and a look alike blade. The figure also wore a cloak, though it was torn and burned on the sides. A twisted metal helmet, warped into a grin, hid its face—but the mask wasn't the worst part.
It was the way the thing moved—because it moved just like him.
He tilted his head, and so did I. He raised his hand, and I followed suit.
"What the hell is that?" he muttered, out of shock and confusion.
Veyla, who stood there amazed, responded, "It's a Hollowborne."
It didn't wait for them to start a conversation about it—it moved toward them, not out of help but to end them both.
Riven moved without thinking, dodging right. His blade came up, countering with a wide slash across the thing's side.
But the Hollow borne moved the same way he did—the same dodge and the same counter.
Their swords clashed mid-air, canceling each other out. Sparks flew, and both staggered back from the shock.
It was just copying his movements. It was mirroring them—every stance, every twitch, every breath.
He circled slowly, and it followed, perfectly matched.
Veyla stood there, shocked. She knew she couldn't help out in a fight like this—not when the enemy moved and looked like him.
Riven charged low, feinting a step to the left, then cutting right, angling for side of the thing's knee.
The Hollow borne mirrored it as well. The blades struck again, edge to edge, and for a moment they remained locked—faces inches apart. Riven could hear it breathe, matching his.
Its blade was almost an exact match to his, but older, cracked, and worn out.
He shoved off and dashed backward, putting space between them.
"What is he?" he asked, panting hard from the continuous deflections.
Veyla's voice came steady, "It's a reflection of what it once was, Riven—of what the Remnants took from him."
He didn't fully understand what she meant because he didn't have time to. The Hollow borne moved again, but this time faster than usual.
In a blur of movements, strikes flashed like storms. Riven dodged, blocked, parried—every blow was one he would have made. Every angle and strike was one he would have used.
It was like fighting his own instincts, so he had no choice but to go on the defensive. He breathed slowly, trying to think of something it wouldn't expect.
"But how do you trick your own self?" he whispered, wiping the sweat off his face.
The thing closed in again, this time with a spin kick aimed at his ribs, but Riven caught the leg, spun it off, and slashed for its exposed side.
It recovered mid-air, just like he would have.
The next exchange was brutal—blades dancing in tight arcs, elbows, knees, counterstrikes.
Each strike matched perfectly, like a deadly game of chess played against a mirror.
And it was slowly winning—but it wasn't getting tired of the battle. He was.
The rune hadn't come to life yet. That scared him more than the fight itself.
"Come on!" he growled, parrying a high strike and ducking below a backhand slash.
He jabbed forward, his blade aimed for the thing's throat, but it twisted to the side and stabbed him back—catching him by the side.
The pain hit him hard and deep. "Shit!" he said, staggering back, clutching his ribs with his left hand.
Blood spilled out fast. His knees buckled. "Ahh, f*ck!" he screamed.
The Hollow borne didn't move in for the kill—it just stood there, blade lowered, like it was mocking him.
Riven fell to one knee, and finally the Rune flared wildly.
"You had to wait until I'm almost dead, huh?" he questioned, as if it would respond.
The wound at his side sizzled. Skin burned as the bleeding slowed, muscles stitched back together—but the pain didn't vanish. It just dulled a bit, enough for him to stand.
And now everything is different. His heartbeat slowed, but his body didn't.
Energy surged through him—not wildly. Precise. As he stepped forward, the Hollowborne followed suit.
They clashed again, but this time he was faster.
He broke the pattern. He did unreasonable things—letting his weight fall off-center, turning late, striking from the wrong angle—just to confuse it.
The thing faltered. He spun low, slashing it up from the hip. Not a clean move and not a proper stance—but it caught the Hollow borne off guard.
A scream tore from the creature's throat—not the sound of a human or beast.
It staggered back, and now its movements were slower. Still mirroring him, but not fast enough.
Riven pressed forward, pushing harder and attacking off-rhythm. One strike to the elbow—and its blade dropped.
He took another slash across its ribs. Cracks formed down its side.
He gritted his teeth and screamed as he drove the blade into its chest.
The Hollow borne reeled, flailing, then stopped—its eyes wide.
It stumbled back, a soft moan escaping its broken helmet, and beneath the warped metal, for just a moment, he saw its face.
Older, tired, and afraid—as it collapsed, remnants pouring from its body.
Riven stood still, breathing hard, with blood running down his side. "Took you long enough. I thought you'd never die," he cursed.
The wound had stopped bleeding—but it wasn't gone. His legs trembled slightly, but he had won.
Veyla, who was watching, finally stepped closer, holding him from the back. "You're bleeding badly," she muttered, urgency in her voice.
"I know," he responded, sounding tired.
"The rune is healing you," she said, staring at the wounds closing bit by bit.
"Yeah... but it's slow, though," he said, looking up as sweat rolled down his face.
She crouched beside the creature's remains, her eyes narrowing. "It was once a human," she muttered, trailing her fingers on its body. "Probably consumed too much Remnants."
Riven didn't say anything, because it clearly reminded him of himself. He stared down at his hands, and they were shaking—unlike before.
"The Hollow borne didn't fight like a monster," he murmured. "It fought like someone trying to cling to life."
Fear gripped him as he stared down at it.