I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 36 - 35 - A Blade’s Understanding

Chapter 36: Chapter 35 - A Blade’s Understanding

Riven sat still, leaning against the massive stone, his body still warm from the remnants of anger, and his breath yet to steady. Crysthalis lay beside him on the ground, its blade reflecting the faint light of the moon, but there was no glint of triumph in that steel—only the blurred, weary shadow of himself.

"You can cut through anything—if you truly understand it."

That sentence echoed again within him like a whisper that refused to leave.

He tried to digest the words, to search for meaning amidst memories, experiences, and the wounds he carried.

Understand?

What was he supposed to understand?

Himself? The world? His sword? Or... the helplessness he’d long buried beneath a facade of strength?

He recalled his dream, that man’s figure—so similar to himself, and yet foreign. The man’s eyes were filled with a certainty, as if he’d discovered something others never could. A single slash... and the world split apart. Yet the swing looked so simple. Light. Calm.

Riven tried to find logic behind it.

"Was it technique?" he wondered. "Or magic? Or perhaps the sword itself was made of something divine?"

But deep inside, he knew that wasn’t the answer.

The issue wasn’t the weapon. It wasn’t his strength.

The issue was... he didn’t understand.

And that was what frustrated him the most.

He ran a hand through his hair, bowing his head, as if hoping that understanding would suddenly rise from the cracks of his thoughts. But all he found was noise—doubt, questions, and the voice of a self that no longer trusted anything.

"What do you mean by understand?" he whispered to the night wind.

No reply came.

So he searched for meaning in simpler things. He remembered calming Mira when she was little. Choosing to forgive himself for past mistakes. Choosing to cover Ashtoria with a blanket tonight without saying a single word.

Was that what it meant to understand?

Not through power—but through empathy?

But doubt crept in again. He wasn’t sure. It all felt too vague, too abstract. And Riven despised what he couldn’t measure. All he knew was that, when he saw that slash in his dream—something inside him felt as though it too had been split.

And now, in reality, his blade couldn’t even leave a proper mark on stone.

He let out a long breath.

"I don’t know," he admitted to himself.

The massive stone still stood silently before him, solid and unmoving. The world too remained still, as if waiting. But it offered no answers.

So Riven sat—just a young man seeking the meaning of a single word, in a world that never left him clues.

Night deepened.

And he still hadn’t found his answer.

While Riven lingered in front of the unbroken stone, lost in the riddle of those mysterious words, something shifted.

Faintly—almost imperceptibly.

The air around him stirred, like heat rippling off coals. The earth beneath his feet trembled softly... so subtly he might’ve missed it had he not been silent and hyperaware.

His head lifted instinctively.

The night sky was still filled with stars. But beyond the silhouette of trees and drifting clouds, Riven saw something—movement.

A flock of birds.

Dozens, maybe hundreds. They soared in panicked disarray, all rushing toward the same direction, fleeing the forest, fleeing wherever the darkness thickened. The flapping of their wings broke the silence of the night, leaving a distant roar behind—like a fleeing crowd abandoning a collapsing arena.

Riven rose to his feet, tension snapping through his limbs, the frustration from earlier melting away beneath the weight of a sudden instinct:

Something was wrong.

He seized Crysthalis, fingers tightening around its hilt. Without a word, he walked away from the stone, his steps brisk, tracing the origin of the birds’ flight.

The night wind now carried a different scent—the scent of earth shaken... and despair.

His pace quickened, yet his mind stayed calm. Breathing steady, gaze sharpened, all his senses on high alert.

Then, from the thinning shadows of the forest ahead... something emerged.

Something large.

Riven stopped abruptly.

Through the gaps between shrubs and trees, it revealed itself—swift as wind. The moonlight swept over its fur, illuminating it with a silvery sheen. Its body was long and lean, but packed with power. Its paws struck the earth with shuddering speed.

A fully grown white tiger.

Not an ordinary one.

Its body was twice the size of any natural predator in the woods. Its eyes glowed with a pale blue light, like a flame from another world. Its breath came in foggy clouds, and every step it took flattened the grass beneath it with unnatural force.

Riven stood motionless.

The tiger looked at him briefly, even while running. That gaze—it wasn’t just animalistic instinct... it was awareness. As if the creature recognized him. As if its approach was no coincidence.

Then, without warning—

The tiger veered toward him, charging straight in his direction.

Riven lifted his sword, crouching low into the stance he’d trained in. His gaze sharpened. Not afraid. But focused.

If I couldn’t cut the stone... then I’ll start by cutting this beast.

Crysthalis shimmered faintly beneath the moonlight, and the wind around him suddenly felt blade-thin. Time slowed, each second stretching in anticipation of the clash between man and beast beneath a night that still refused to reveal its secrets.

Riven took a deep breath, drawing cold air into his tense lungs. The tiger’s steps grew louder, vibrations traveling through the ground toward his feet. A low rumble filled his ears—not from the beast, but from his own heartbeat, fast yet steady.

He didn’t step back.

Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, and in that brief darkness, Riven summoned the memory of a red-haired woman who had once stood before him—calm, assured, and unflinching with a sword in hand.

He opened his eyes.

His left hand stabilized Crysthalis’s base. His right gripped the upper hilt tightly, but with relaxed index and thumb—eagle’s grip, just as she had taught. His stance was grounded. Shoulders relaxed. Eyes locked forward, pinpointed at the space between the tiger’s eyes.

Strangely...

There was no fear.

Even though he knew this beast could tear him apart in a single leap. There was no trembling, no urge to run.

Only clarity.

As though the world had narrowed to a single point—a single moment. Him and the tiger. Blade and claw. Breath and time.

If I couldn’t understand the stone... then now, I’ll try to understand myself.

The tiger drew closer. Just a few meters now. Its breath came in misty huffs, its mouth slightly open, revealing long, gleaming fangs.

Riven shifted his stance slightly, rotating his waist and drawing his elbow in.

His mind was blank—not from panic.

But like still water... moments before a stone is thrown in.

One final breath—

Then the tiger leapt.