Third Person POV
Riyan sat in the leather chair by his window, watching the sun bleed out over Qara City's skyline. Seven days until the Academy opened. Seven days until he'd be thrown into the grinder with the protagonist and all the other destiny-blessed idiots.
He should've been focused on preparation. Strategy. Making sure he was ready for whatever the plot threw at him.
Instead, his mind was locked on tomorrow night.
Hotel BlackMoon. Five-star establishment on the city's outskirts, black marble facade and a reputation for discretion that made it the perfect venue for business you didn't want anyone knowing about. The kind of place where the wealthy and powerful met to discuss things that would never see daylight.
Tomorrow night, that hotel would host a gathering of some of the most corrupt bastards in Fers Domain. Hunters who'd sold out for coin. Officials who turned blind eyes to crimes in exchange for influence. Businessmen whose fortunes were built on suffering they'd never personally witnessed and could comfortably ignore.
They were meeting to orchestrate a manufactured riot that would culminate in artificial gate breaches. The kind of event that would kill hundreds—maybe thousands—while lining pockets of everyone positioned to profit from the chaos.
Riyan felt disgust, though not from moral outrage. He'd killed a man when he was nine years old. Morality was a luxury he couldn't afford in excess.
No, what disgusted him was the waste. All that power and influence squandered on petty profit schemes when they could've been building something that lasted.
But their shortsightedness was his opportunity.
According to the novel's timeline, an organization called Sirus would hijack the hotel tomorrow night. Vigilantes operating in shadows, hunting corrupt individuals who'd slipped through legal cracks. Noble intentions wrapped in criminal methodology, which made them pariahs to legitimate authority.
The government called them terrorists. The corrupt feared them as executioners. The truth lived somewhere in that messy space where righteousness and violence intersected in ways that made everyone uncomfortable.
Sirus members were skilled hunters and dedicated citizens who'd lost faith in systems that protected the guilty better than they served the innocent. Rogue agents, whistleblowers, vigilantes united by rage at injustice and determination to correct it through means no court would approve.
Their methods were brutal. Effective. They infiltrated criminal organizations, gathered evidence that would never see trial, and eliminated threats the law couldn't or wouldn't touch. They operated as ghosts—silent observers who struck without warning and vanished without trace.
Tomorrow night, a Sirus team would infiltrate BlackMoon with orders to eliminate every corrupt official attending the meeting. Clean, efficient, sending a message that corruption carried consequences even power and wealth couldn't shield against.
Except that wasn't what would actually happen.
The team assigned to this mission had other plans. Plans involving betraying Sirus's ideals for personal profit.
Instead of executing their targets, the team would seize control of the entire hotel. Take every guest hostage—not just the corrupt officials, but innocent civilians who'd picked the worst possible night for luxury accommodations. Then they'd issue demands to the Hunter's Association: ransom paid not in currency, but in high-rank mana and aura weapons.
The kind of weapons that represented significant military assets. The kind that could arm a rebellion or fetch astronomical prices on black markets.
And once they had those weapons? They'd sell them to Nexus.
The same organization that had kidnapped Raven and him when they were children. The same fanatics who wanted to create artificial devils. The same group his mother and Principal Zeus had been hunting for years without success.
Riyan couldn't allow that.
Not out of loyalty to Sirus—he'd never met them. Not out of moral objection to the hostage plan, though that was distasteful. Not even personal vendetta against Nexus, though that factored in.
No, he was getting involved because the situation represented an opportunity too valuable to waste.
An opportunity to make an impression on someone who could be extraordinarily useful to his long-term plans.
Sia Crimson.
Leader of Sirus. An SS- rank hunter whose skills were legendary even in the shadows where her organization operated. A woman whose network of information and resources would be invaluable to someone trying to disrupt destiny's carefully laid plans.
And currently, someone who had no idea her operation was about to be betrayed from within.
The system's notification chimed in his mind.
[Mission: Make Sia Crimson Your Fanatic]
[Real Identity: Sia Crimson, SS- Rank Hunter and Leader of Sirus Organization]
[Time Limit: Before Academy Graduation]
[Reward: Unknown]
[Does Host wish to accept this Mission?]
"Yes," Riyan said aloud, even though mental confirmation would've sufficed. Sometimes hearing his own voice commit to decisions that might get him killed helped solidify things.
[Mission Accepted]
[Current Favorability: Unknown]
[Recommended Approach: Demonstrate value through action. Sia Crimson respects strength, intelligence, and those who share her vision of justice]
Justice. Riyan's lips curved into a dark smile. What an interesting word. So subjective. So malleable.
His plan was simple, though execution would be considerably messier.
He'd infiltrate the hotel before the betrayers made their move. Position himself to observe and intervene if necessary. The original Riyan's memories included detailed floor plans of BlackMoon—his mother had held business meetings there frequently enough that he'd memorized the layout out of childhood boredom.
Then he'd let the betrayers reveal themselves fully. Commit to their betrayal in ways that couldn't be walked back. Evidence was always more convincing than accusation.
After that? Disrupt their plan at the critical moment. Not by alerting authorities—that would accomplish nothing except getting hostages killed in crossfire. He'd handle it personally.
And most importantly, he'd ensure Sia witnessed his intervention. Ideally in a way that demonstrated both capability and alignment with her organization's stated goals.
The trick would be managing all of this without revealing his identity prematurely. He was already too high-profile after the entrance exam. If word spread that Riyan Descartes had single-handedly disrupted a hostage situation, questions would follow that he wasn't prepared to answer.
The mask stayed on. At least until the critical moment.
Riyan pulled up his status mentally, reviewing capabilities.
[Status
Host Name: Riyan Cris Descartes
Charm: SS+
Strength: B+
Speed: B+
Endurance: A-
Mana: B-
Aura: C+
Current Rank: B-]
B- rank at eighteen was exceptional, but he'd be facing betrayers who were likely A-rank or higher. SS- rank Sia would be manageable if she was an ally, catastrophic if she decided he was an enemy.
The math wasn't in his favor for direct confrontation.
Which meant he'd need to be smart. Use preparation, tactics, and surprise to offset the raw power differential.
His Reader's Eye was one advantage—the Unique rank talent let him analyze combat patterns, predict movements, identify weaknesses in real-time. Against multiple opponents of superior rank, it might be the difference between success and a very short, very painful death.
His Spear Mastery had reached Master level, supplemented by SS-rank Spear Saint talent. Combined with fire and darkness affinities, he had options for both ranged and close combat.
The Dual Energy User talent meant he could fight with both mana and aura, giving him flexibility most hunters lacked. When mana users expected him to empty his reserves, he could switch to aura techniques and keep fighting.
Workable, Riyan concluded. Dangerous, probably stupid, definitely not what anyone would call safe. But workable.
A knock interrupted his tactical planning.
"Young Master Riyan?" A servant's voice, carefully neutral. "Your mother requests your presence in her study."
Riyan glanced at the clock. Late evening, well past normal business hours. Whatever Riya wanted, it wasn't casual.
"Tell her I'll be there momentarily," he called back.
As he stood and straightened his clothes, Riyan considered what this summons might mean. Had she somehow learned about his plans for tomorrow? That seemed unlikely—he'd been careful to leave no digital trail, and his knowledge came from memories of a novel rather than actionable intelligence she could intercept.
More likely, this was about Academy preparations. Or possibly Fera—their families would need to discuss handling the engagement now that he'd stopped his pathetic pursuit.
Either way, he'd need to be careful. Riya was SS+ rank and frighteningly perceptive. If she suspected he was planning something dangerous, she'd lock him in his room until Academy opened just to keep him safe.
Can't have that, Riyan thought, already composing plausible lies as he headed for the door. Not when I'm this close to making a real move.
He moved through the estate's corridors with practiced ease, nodding to servants who bowed as he passed. The Descartes estate was massive—a sprawling complex that spoke of generational wealth and power. Black marble floors reflected enchanted lighting that never quite felt natural. Portraits of ancestors lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow him with judgment or approval depending on the angle.
Riyan had never felt comfortable here, even with the original's memories providing familiarity. Too much history. Too many expectations. Too many people watching to see if he'd live up to the Descartes name or become another disappointment.
Good thing I'm planning to exceed expectations so dramatically they won't know what hit them.
He reached his mother's study and knocked twice—the family signal that meant "it's me, not a servant."
"Enter," came Riya's voice, cool and controlled as always.
Riyan pushed open the heavy oak door and stepped inside.
Riya Descartes sat behind her desk, paperwork spread before her in organized chaos that somehow made sense to her brilliant mind. At SS+ rank and one of the strongest individuals in Fers Domain, she commanded respect through presence alone. Her black hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her blue eyes—identical to Livia's—swept over him with the kind of assessment that missed nothing.
"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
Riyan sat, keeping his expression neutral and relaxed. The key to lying to someone this perceptive was to stay as close to truth as possible.
"The Academy opens in seven days," Riya began, setting down her pen. "I wanted to discuss expectations."
"Expectations?" Riyan kept his tone casual.
"You performed exceptionally well in the entrance exam. First rank among your peers. That performance will draw attention—some of it positive, much of it dangerous." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I need to know you understand the implications."
"People will target me," Riyan said simply. "Try to knock me down, test my limits, see if the transformation is real or temporary. Some will want to recruit me, others will want to crush me before I become a threat."
"Precisely." Riya leaned back in her chair. "Which is why I'm concerned about your... extracurricular activities."
Riyan's heart rate spiked, but he kept his expression unchanged. "What activities?"
"Don't play games with me, Riyan." Her voice remained calm, but there was steel underneath. "You've been unusually interested in current events. Specifically, events involving corruption in Fers Domain."
Shit. She's been watching me more closely than I thought.
"I'm paying attention to politics," Riyan said carefully. "Isn't that what you've always wanted? For me to take an interest in matters beyond my immediate concerns?"
"There's a difference between political awareness and the kind of research you've been conducting." Riya pulled out a file from her desk drawer. "Three inquiries about Hotel BlackMoon's security protocols. Two requests for updated maps of Qara City's outskirts. Multiple searches related to vigilante organizations operating in our territory."
Double shit.
"I'm being thorough," Riyan said, shifting tactics. "The Academy will require strategic thinking. I'm practicing by analyzing real-world scenarios."
"And tomorrow night's gathering at BlackMoon is just an academic exercise?" Riya's tone suggested she didn't believe him for a second.
Riyan met her eyes directly. Sometimes the best lie was a partial truth.
"I know something is going to happen tomorrow night," he said quietly. "I don't know all the details, but I know there's going to be trouble. And I wanted to be prepared in case it affects our family interests."
Riya studied him for a long moment. "If you have intelligence about a potential incident, you should report it to the proper authorities."
"And if the proper authorities are part of the problem?"
That got her attention. Her expression shifted from stern to calculating.
"Explain."
Riyan chose his words carefully. "The people meeting at BlackMoon tomorrow aren't gathering for legitimate business. They're corrupt officials and hunters planning something that will hurt a lot of innocent people. Reporting it would just tip them off—they have connections everywhere."
"And you think you can do something about it?" Riya's tone was flat, but he could hear the underlying concern.
"I think I can gather information that might be useful," Riyan said, which was technically true. "I'm not planning to storm in and play hero. Just... observe. Learn. See how these things actually work outside of textbook scenarios."
Another long silence.
Finally, Riya sighed. "You're going regardless of what I say, aren't you?"
"I'd prefer your blessing, but yes."
She stood and walked to the window, looking out over the city. "You're eighteen years old, Riyan. B- rank. Whatever is happening at that hotel will involve individuals far beyond your current capabilities."
"I know."
"If you're captured or killed, it will destroy your sister. It will devastate your cousins. And it will..." She paused. "It will break me."
The raw honesty in her voice made something in Riyan's chest tighten. This wasn't the SS+ rank powerhouse speaking. This was his mother.
"I won't let that happen," Riyan said quietly. "I promise."
Riya turned back to face him. "You can't promise that. No one can promise that in our world."
"Then I promise I'll do everything in my power to come back alive."
She studied him again, and Riyan could see the internal debate playing across her features. Finally, she walked back to her desk and pulled out a small device—a communication crystal, military grade.
"Take this," she said, pressing it into his hand. "If things go wrong, if you're in over your head, activate it. I'll come personally."
Riyan closed his fingers around the crystal. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just don't die." Her voice hardened. "Because if you get yourself killed being reckless, I will find a way to resurrect you just so I can kill you myself."
Despite the tension, Riyan smiled. "Understood."
"Now get out of my study. I have actual work to do."
Riyan stood and headed for the door, then paused. "Mother?"
"What?"
"The engagement with Fera—"
"Is being dissolved formally next week," Riya interrupted. "The Starlight family and I have already discussed it. Your behavior at the entrance exam made continuing the arrangement... inappropriate."
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me for that either. The political fallout is going to be tedious." But there was something in her tone that suggested she wasn't entirely displeased with how things had turned out.
Riyan left the study with the communication crystal burning a hole in his pocket.
Tomorrow night, Hotel BlackMoon would become a battlefield.
And he intended to emerge victorious, with a powerful new ally and one step closer to crushing destiny's carefully laid plans.
The only question was whether he'd survive long enough to enjoy his victory.