The old temple remained quiet.
Cold wind passed through the broken windows, carrying the distant echoes of the ghost city.
Rive sat on the stone floor, leaning against a pillar while slowly recovering his strength.
Across the room, Vikram stretched his arms and looked at him carefully.
After a moment he spoke.
"Rive."
"Yeah?"
"How do you fight like that?"
Rive blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Vikram crossed his arms.
"You were fighting Arin like someone trained you for years."
"You switched between styles."
"Striking, grappling, kicking."
He raised an eyebrow.
"And that weird spinning kick thing."
Rive scratched the back of his head.
"Oh… that."
"Yes," Vikram said slowly. "That."
"You're supposed to be a normal student."
Rive looked a little embarrassed.
"Well… I am a normal student."
Vikram stared at him.
"You fought a ghost devourer on a collapsing rooftop."
"Normal is not the word I would use."
Rive laughed awkwardly.
"Okay maybe not completely normal."
He stretched his arms slightly.
"I just like learning things."
"What things?"
"Martial arts videos… boxing tutorials… MMA breakdowns… that kind of stuff."
Vikram blinked.
"You learned that from videos?"
"Mostly."
Vikram rubbed his forehead.
"I'm fighting monsters with a YouTube-trained martial artist."
Rive grinned.
"Hey, it worked."
Vikram sighed.
"Continue."
Rive leaned back against the pillar.
"I wasn't some special prodigy or anything."
"I just… learned fast."
He shrugged.
"Maybe I'm a little bit of a genius."
Vikram raised one eyebrow.
"A little bit?"
"Okay maybe slightly more than a little."
Rive smiled.
"I started earning money when I was twelve."
Now Vikram looked genuinely surprised.
"Twelve?"
"Yeah."
"How?"
Rive scratched his cheek.
"Art."
"Art?"
"I'm a painter."
He pointed toward the floor with his finger, imagining the canvas.
"I started posting my artwork online."
"Anime style, landscapes, digital illustrations."
"Eventually people started buying them."
"Some local."
"Some international."
Vikram stared at him for a moment.
"So let me understand this."
"You were a teenage artist…"
"Who sold paintings internationally…"
"And taught himself martial arts for fun."
Rive shrugged again.
"Pretty much."
Vikram sighed.
"You know, most people your age struggle to finish homework."
Rive laughed.
"Homework was still a problem."
They both sat quietly for a moment.
Then Vikram spoke again.
"What about your life before all this?"
"I was in college."
"Second semester."
"I was coming home one evening…"
Rive's voice became quieter.
"And then the accident happened."
Silence filled the room.
The memory was still fresh.
Vikram nodded slowly.
"I see."
Rive looked at him.
"What about you?"
Vikram leaned against the wall.
"My story isn't interesting."
"Try me."
Vikram sighed.
"I was twenty-six."
"I worked in an office."
"Part-time jobs."
"Extra shifts."
"Anything that could earn money."
Rive listened carefully.
"For my mother's medical treatment," Vikram continued.
"She needed surgery."
"So I worked more."
"And more."
"And more."
His voice remained calm, but something heavy sat beneath it.
"One day…"
"My heart stopped."
"Heart attack."
The words were simple.
But the silence afterward was heavy.
Rive looked down.
"You worked yourself to death."
"Basically."
Vikram shrugged lightly.
"Not the most heroic way to die."
Rive shook his head.
"No."
"It is."
Vikram looked slightly surprised.
"You were protecting your family."
"That's not weak."
Vikram gave a faint smile.
Then he asked another question.
"And your friend?"
"Arin."
"How old was he when he died?"
Rive's expression darkened.
"Fifteen."
Vikram frowned.
"That young?"
"Yeah."
"He died in a fire accident."
The temple grew quiet again.
Vikram nodded slowly.
But inside his mind, something began to feel wrong.
Fire accident.
Rive died in a car crash.
His thoughts moved carefully.
Two close friends… dying in completely different ways.
Years apart.
But ending up connected here.
Vikram's eyes narrowed slightly.
That's strange.
Too strange.
A quiet thought formed in the back of his mind.
This might not be coincidence.
Someone… might have cursed their fate.
He didn't say it out loud.
Not yet.
Instead he looked at Rive again.
"You know," Vikram said casually, "your life story is interesting."
Rive smiled slightly.
"More interesting than yours?"
Vikram laughed.
"Definitely."
Then he stretched his arms and stood up.
"Anyway."
"We should rest."
"Tomorrow we start figuring out how to stop your friend from becoming the strongest ghost devourer in this city."
Rive sighed.
"No pressure."
"None at all."
Outside the temple, deep within the ghost city—
Something ancient had already begun watching them.