The deeper Riven went, the thicker the air became.
What started as knee-deep swampwater had narrowed into a winding bog trail, flanked by twisted trees and pulsating fungal growths. The stench was worse here—like rotting algae mixed with something chemical. Yet even through the overwhelming scent, he could still hear them: the hum of wings, distant and rhythmic, like drums muffled underwater.
He paused behind a slick, half-fallen log, crouching low.
The terrain ahead opened into a clearing—if it could even be called that. Dozens of thorned stalks pierced the swamp, forming an uneven ring. In the center, slumped over a rotting tree stump, was a single large insectoid creature. Humanoid in shape, but stretched and deformed—chitinous plates covering its body, two sets of arms folded against its thorax, antennae twitching.
Around it, smaller ones crawled through the murk—scouts, barely knee-high, but fast. Their mandibles clicked with eerie synchronicity.
"Well," Riven muttered under his breath, "that's new."
He didn't rush.
Instead, he watched.
The adaptive relic he wore had already adjusted to the swamp's ecosystem, the flexible armor darkened in tone and texture, blending better with the surrounding rot and mud. Yet it couldn't stop the smell—and it definitely couldn't make the environment more forgiving. Still, he was impressed. The subtle runes etched into the suit's threading shimmered faintly with every breath he took, adjusting to the mana density and pressure.
"Next time," he muttered, shifting his grip on Nullshift, "I'm asking for a relic that comes with a scent filter."
The blade pulsed softly in response—almost as if mocking him.
He slid into the clearing with silent steps, keeping low. He'd trained himself to move quietly, especially after the last few dungeons taught him just how unforgiving real combat was. Nullshift remained in sword form, its edge gleaming dully in the hazy light that filtered through the fogged canopy.
One of the scouts jerked its head.
Riven froze.
Then another turned.
He tightened his grip.
A sudden screech cut through the stillness, and the insectoid creature on the stump snapped upright—its back splitting open in a spray of dark fluid. Wings unfurled. Not translucent, but chitin-coated and barbed.
"Ah, hell."
The scouts lunged.
Riven moved.
His first swing was clean—Nullshift sliced through the closest creature with a hiss. Its body hit the swamp with a muted splash, but the others didn't hesitate. Two flanked him from either side, and a third leapt from above.
He ducked under the first, twisting to parry the second, blade clanging against exoskeleton. His movements were sharper now—more instinctive. The suit's adaptive fabric aided his balance, adjusting to his rhythm, and Nullshift flowed with him like an extension of his own body.
The third creature dropped toward him from above.
He pivoted and kicked upward, sending it sprawling with a satisfying crunch. It skittered backward, legs twitching, but the bigger one was already airborne now—wings buzzing, chittering in a pitch that made his eardrums ache.
"Right," Riven muttered, breath fogging, "I'm done playing."
Nullshift shifted in his hands.
He didn't press a button. Didn't issue a command. But he could feel the relic responding.
With a shimmer of mana, the sword's core elongated—folding out into its blaster configuration. Twin energy barrels hummed to life, pulsing green along the seams.
Riven steadied his stance and fired.
The blast cracked through the clearing—a focused burst of green energy that slammed into the lead creature mid-flight. It screeched as its chest exploded in a flash of steam and chitin, its body crashing into the trunk behind it and splitting it down the middle.
The scouts paused.
Then charged.
Riven fired again—two, three more shots, each one searing through the air and hitting with pinpoint precision. The power surged through his arms, but with each shot, he could feel the drain. Nullshift's core trembled faintly, the light in its runes dimming with each blast.
The fifth shot was slower—less responsive. When he pulled the trigger, the energy fizzled out halfway.
He looked down.
The blaster form shuddered—and auto-retracted with a metallic whirr, collapsing back into the sword.
Riven grimaced. "Figures. Five shots per charge."
He took a shaky breath, panting now. The adaptive armor flexed to match his posture, but it couldn't hide the fatigue building in his muscles. His arms ached from the recoil. Nullshift's weight felt heavier.
The last two scouts hesitated—then lunged together.
Riven raised his blade, ready to meet them—when a familiar screech tore through the clearing.
His eyes darted upward.
The creature from earlier—the larger one that had first emerged from the stump—was back.
Only now, it looked… different.
Crimson streaks ran across its chitin, veins glowing with some internal pressure. Its wings buzzed violently, vibrating with raw mana, and its lower arms had fused into bladed sickles. It had retreated earlier, but now?
Now, it was furious.
Riven exhaled, tightening his grip on Nullshift.
"Of course you came back."
The mutated four-legged creature launched toward him with terrifying speed.
Riven didn't flinch.
But his eyes flicked briefly to his wrist.
The Omnitrix pulsed once—slow, steady.
He didn't transform. Not yet.
But the moment hovered—tension crackling in the humid air like the spark before a storm.
And then—
The creature screamed.
Riven charged to meet it.
Then he slammed the Omnitrix.
"Diamondhead!"
End of Chapter.
Thank you for reading.