Reincarnation: Beyond Mortal Bounds.

Persistence is a scary thing, especially when fueled by determination. Riven's refusal to give up despite having his ass handed to him in every aspect was a testament to his unwavering resolve. Who knew it paid to be stubborn and bone-headed? At first, it was all about appearances, a desperate attempt to keep up the charade that he was the real Riven, the young noble whose life he was now living. But then Vaelorian got involved, training him privately, and Riven's motivation shifted. He wanted to prove to Vaelorian that he wasn't a complete failure, that he could keep up with the older boy's speed.

Had he transformed into the polished noble he envisioned? Not even close! But Riven was no longer the same lost boy who had been yanked back from the brink of death and thrust into another life. He was on a quest for self-discovery, trying to adapt to this alien world. He was learning about responsibilities, etiquette, and the nuances of being part of something larger than himself. Classes had become less intimidating, and he found himself answering questions and sparring with other kids, all thanks to the grueling training sessions with Vaelorian.

They had a hunting lesson outside the camp's fortified walls, accompanied by adult supervision, of course. Riven felt a surge of triumph when he and a group of fellow campers brought back rabbits. Things like this would've been impossible in his past life—yet here, in this world, they're happening. He's starting to crave more of that feeling. That fleeting sense of being capable of doing something good, of earning respect. He doesn't quite understand it all yet—what it means to feel appreciated or to succeed—but he's determined to figure it out.

Riven suddenly checked his watch and cursed under his breath. He's so late already. He picked up the pace.

"He's gonna be a pain in the ass about this." Riven mumbles.

And sure enough, as he pushes open the door to the training room, the first thing he hears is that unmistakably sharp voice.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up," Vaelorian said, leaning casually against the wall with an annoyed expression.

Riven rolled his eyes inwardly but kept his face neutral.

Fucking called it!

"Sorry, dude! Lunch took a while." Riven apologized, deciding not to aggravate Vaelorian further, but Vaelorian's piercing gaze saw right through the excuse.

"Didn't lunch end like thirty minutes ago?"

Riven smiled sheepishly, warming up for training. "Oh, yeah! I was talking to this girl and I kinda lost track of time."

Vaelorian's eyes narrowed, his tone flat.

"You got yourself a girlfriend?"

"What? A girlfriend? Nah... just this girl that helped me during class today. She's umm...very vanilla. Not really my type." Riven hastily clarified, Vaelorian's attention was on him like a hawk's, he felt like he was being dissected.

"Oh! So, you have a type?" Vaelorian asked, his curiosity piqued.

Riven sighed. "Everyone's got a type, dude."

As they got into sparring positions, blows exchanged, fists flying—boyish grins and competitive spirit filling the air.

"So, what's your type?"

Vaelorian asked, knocking Riven off balance with a swift kick, his tone light but inquisitive. Riven did a seamless backflip, landing gracefully on his feet and dusting himself off.

He thought for a moment before responding, "I guess my type would be someone fun"

Vaelorian's brow twitched in curiosity. "Fun?"

"You know, someone who knows how to let loose, witty, appreciates a good prank, and isn't afraid to say what they're thinking. Someone like that." Riven clarified and Vaelorian nodded slowly, taking in Riven's words.

"So... you mean a female version of you?" Vaelorian asked with a smirk.

Riven rolled his eyes, "You must think you're very funny, your highness. Newsflash, you're not!" Riven retorted before charging forward again, only to be knocked off his feet.

As they sparred, Riven threw Vaelorian's question back at him.

"What about you, your highness? What's your type?"

"I can only say you and I don't have the same taste in lovers." was Vaelorian's simple response.

"Lovers? How very 90's." Riven scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Did you just call me old?" Vaelorian shot back, brows arching in mock offense.

Riven smirked, "Well, if the shoes fit."

And in the blink of an eye, Vaelorian picked him up and slammed him to the floor.

Ouch!" Riven laughed, brushing himself off, a grin plastered across his face. It was official—he had successfully pissed Vaelorian off.

Back on his feet, Riven took an offensive stance, trying to read Vaelorian but the older boy just looked back with a bored expression. With a burst of adrenaline, Riven charged at him again, but this time, Vaelorian decided to stay still, and the moment Riven crashed into him, he easily caught Riven around the waist and lifted him off the ground with seemingly zero effort. In a heartbeat, Riven found himself on the ground, Vaelorian looming over him, a triumphant smirk on his face.

"How's that for an old man?" Vaelorian teased, his smirk widening.

"The fact that you had to prove you aren't old by kicking my ass says a lot about you, wouldn't you agree?" Riven chuckled, feeling exhilarated by his quick comeback.

"I ought to break your fingers because of that sharp mouth of yours," Vaelorian said, flicking Riven's forehead lightly, the gesture was somewhat playful and affectionate.

"You'll have to up your game if you want to get back at me," Riven sassed, feeling more confident in his ability to mess with Vaelorian.

"Oh, really? Is that a challenge?" Vaelorian replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Will you accept it if it were?" Riven countered, leaning in with feigned seriousness.

"You know what? I'll accept it." Vaelorian said with determination, mirroring Riven's confidence.

"Alright then, your highness. The ball is in your court—try your best to get back at me, if you can." Vaelorian's smirk was all the confirmation Riven needed.

"Don't you dare think I'm going to go easy on you for a second," Vaelorian warned.

Riven grinned, puffing his chest. "The game is so on, your Highness."

And just like that, the sparring resumed—an endless dance of sass, speed, and boyish charm. Both boys basked in the thrill of excitement. The challenge had been issued, and both boys were eager to take on the other. Riven thinks he's already got this in the bag but little did he know that Vaelorian had been going easy on him this whole time.