Chapter 197: Riven vs Dorian, Part III: Two Rewinds

Riven let the next exchange go on purpose, lowering his guard a fraction so Dorian's blade slipped under his arm. The gift was as plain as an open hand, yet the perfect hero accepted it without a single worried question.

"Finally," Dorian said, almost tender, "you stop pretending that you can win this."

Dorian's blade opened his side from rib to hip, a line of heat that spread through him in a rush. Riven staggered with a grunt, one knee buckling, while a long groan rolled across the stands like slow distant thunder.

"The villain is finished, the scrolls were right all along and the ink is dry," Selh moaned into his horn, wiping a tear from his cheek.

"He is not finished, he chose that, I saw him choose it," Isolde said, gripping the rail.

In the stands Nix's hands froze on the Receipt box, the lid halfway open as she watched him bleed. Beside her Mara was silent, which was the worst sign, her tail coiled around the rail like a whip.

"Get up or I will come down there," she said, very quietly.

"Under article nine he may choose to bleed," Veska said grimly, "I have checked the wording twice."

Riven felt the blood soak his shirt from rib to hip, each breath catching on the edge of the cut. Maybe a dozen more exchanges remained in this body, a number he held with the dull certainty of counting coins.

'Twelve exchanges left in this body... I'd better spend one of them wisely.'

Riven pressed one palm to the wound and whispered the name of the skill softly through his clenched teeth. Forty points of Reserve spilled from his chest like cold water, making the whole arena tremble all around him.

[ Second Answer: replay granted | Reserve: 260 / 300 ]

"My turn to rewind."

The world folded backward, but this fold was his own, stitched from his pulse instead of a bracelet. Dorian's blade withdrew slowly from his side into the air, the pain draining out as the moment rewound.

"I witness: two men now remember the same loop," Lucas called from the stands, "this has never been recorded."

"Your pulse is playing two rhythms at once," Nix whispered through the thread, "please decide which one you mean."

Both men stood at the start of the exchange once more, each of them remembering the cut that never happened. Dorian's eyes widened, the first expression he wore since the bell a quick flash of honest alarm across his face.

"That is not possible, you cannot hold a loop, no one told you how to—" Dorian began, his practiced calm slipping badly in front of everyone.

"Nobody told me anything... that has been my whole advantage."

Dorian's blade came around in a short vicious arc, the same cut that opened Riven's side a breath ago. He watched it come with a strange calm, feeling the wound that never happened throb faintly along his ribs.

"Hold still, this will be quick, I promise it will not hurt for long," Dorian murmured, his blade already falling.

This time Riven kept his guard up all the way, meeting the cut with Overdue's spine and turning it aside. His elbow slammed across Dorian's jaw with a crack like a snapped branch, the sound carrying up to the rafters.

"Twice," Ysabel shouted, standing on the bench, "I specifically asked for twice and that was only once!"

"That was one very honest hit," Cassen called from the corner.

Dorian stumbled backward with blood on his lip, staring at his gloved fingers like a man who misread a page. The Weaver's thread above him sagged for a heartbeat, its golden light stuttering like a candle in a sudden wind.

"You are cheating," Dorian rasped, wiping his mouth, "that loop belongs to me."

"Rewinding is only cheating when you're the one losing."

"Then I will stop losing," Dorian said flatly, "starting from the very next tick."

'Two rewinds in the same exchange... and for once the loop was mine to spend.'

The air thickened around them until each breath tasted like tin, the roar of the crowd thinning to a hum. Then the sound cut out entirely, as if an enormous blanket fell across the whole arena from the sky above.

"The Correction runs silence, glow, blade," Isolde whispered through the thread, "he knows the order."

The Correction was firing at long last, punishing the villain for striking the hero off his script. Silence fell first, thirty thousand mouths moving without sound in a hush that pressed on his ears.

'Silence first, white second... blade last, I know exactly how this one ends.'

He opened his mouth and found one word waiting, the word he spent a long night learning to hold. Rest left his lips as a whisper the silence could not swallow, freezing the white halfway up the blade.

[ Rest: Correction halted | Beats held: 1 ]

"One beat held... that is all it can give you."

Sound flooded back into the arena in a sudden gasp, Dorian lifting his wrist with visible irritation. The bracelet ticked once, folding the arena backward and dissolving the Rest like breath on a window.

"You held it for one beat," Dorian said, brushing blood from his lip, "I only need to leave it."

"Your friends cannot carry you forever," Dorian added, tapping the bracelet with one finger.

The white fell a second time, thicker than before, hissing along the blade like frost on a hot stove. Riven felt it settle across his shoulders, a crushing pressure that pushed his knees steadily toward the waiting sand.

"Dead Weight," Ysabel cried, snapping her fan open so hard that the ribs cracked.

[ Dead Weight: Ysabel | Correction weight lessened ]

"Hurry, it is much heavier than it looks on paper."

The pressure slid off his shoulders onto an unseen hook, as though someone leaned in to carry half. He still staggered under the remainder, blood running from his side, but his knees stayed locked beneath him.

"I'll pay you back for that, President," he gasped, planting Overdue in the sand.

Ysabel swayed on the bench with half the Correction hooked across her shoulders, gripping the rail to stay upright. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead, yet her fan stayed open, a stubborn little flag planted in the storm.

"You will pay me back with a duel next week and lose it politely."

"Deal," he said, "but I am choosing the venue."

Standing there bleeding, he finally saw a hairline seam of gold hanging in the air where the bracelet ticked. Every loop Dorian threw began from that same instant, the moment Hindsight woke, like a bookmark in a page.

'He always comes back to the same spot... the tick itself.'

"The beat is identical every time," Cassen shouted, pointing, "he lands on the same instant."

"Then I will stop running from it," Riven said, wiping blood from his eye.

"You cannot stand on a bookmark," Dorian said, laughing, "it is not even a place."

Dorian's laugh cracked in the thick air, the sound of a man hearing a joke aimed at him. His bracelet glinted at the ready, a small gold coin of borrowed time still hanging at his wrist.

He stepped forward into the falling white, planting both feet on the bookmark where the seam hung.