I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 37 - 36 - The Cut That Wasn’t There

Chapter 37: Chapter 36 - The Cut That Wasn’t There

The white tiger leapt—long, powerful, and without hesitation. The air tore beneath the weight of its airborne body. Its claws raised, jaws wide open, ready to shred anything that stood in its path.

At the same moment, Riven moved.

He didn’t jump or retreat, but stepped to the side—half a pace. Just enough to slip out of the direct line of the tiger’s strike. His feet anchored into the ground, his waist turned, and Crysthalis... swung.

It wasn’t a wild strike. Nor was it a slash driven by brute strength.

It was smooth. Controlled. But sharp—like an unwavering will honed into a blade.

Srakkhh—!!

The world fell silent in that single second.

Time stopped.

Then came a faint ringing, like the twang of a snapped string echoing from the edge of the sky.

The white tiger’s body passed Riven, grazing his left side at full speed, then landed meters behind him. Its claws tore deep grooves into the soil. Its breath came heavy. Muscles tense.

Riven stood still, his back to the beast, sword still held in a horizontal arc, frozen mid-air.

Silence.

Then...

Blood began to drip.

Drop by drop from the tiger’s shoulder. Then its neck. The wound was hard to see—but deep. Sharp.

The tiger tilted its head upward, gazing at the night sky. The moonlight flickered in its eyes, now dimming.

One step back.

Two.

Then its body crumpled gently to the ground—no explosion, no roar—just a collapse, like a shadow losing its source of light.

Riven remained unmoving. His chest rose and fell steadily. At last, he lowered Crysthalis to his side, the edge of the blade now stained crimson.

He looked ahead, not turning back.

Not out of fear—but because he knew.

He knew the strike had landed.

Not because he was stronger.

Not because his technique was flawless.

But because—for a moment—he truly understood.

Not the tiger. Not the stone. But himself. The arc of his slash, the focus in his eyes, the intent in his heart... all aligned into a single, seamless line.

And that line, for the first time, cut through the world.

He closed his eyes, holding onto the feeling. It wasn’t euphoria. It was... clarity.

When he opened them again, the night remained dark.

But inside, something had ignited—small, faint, but unextinguishable.

A comprehension not yet complete, but enough to move forward.

Enough... to try again.

Riven turned and swiftly left the battleground. He didn’t want to waste a second. Only one thought pulsed in his mind: return to where Mira and Ashtoria waited. They were counting on him—and he had no idea what other dangers might be approaching.

His steps turned into a run, nearly full sprint. Crysthalis was firm in his grip once more, the tiger’s blood still dripping along the grass with every motion.

The night wind lashed his face, yet it felt different now—thicker, heavier. At times, a sudden gust would blow from deep within the forest, carrying the scent of wet earth... and something deeper. Above him, another wave of birds burst from the trees, forming a chaotic spiral in the air—rushing, frantic, as though the world was fleeing from something unseen.

And Riven began to feel it.

Pressure.

Distant at first, from a place beyond sight, yet swiftly drawing closer.

From between the trees came a pounding sound—heavy, rhythmic, growing louder.

Then he saw it.

A bear—larger even than the white tiger—charging at terrifying speed. Its fur was pitch black, eyes glowing with a dull red hue, and drool laced with blood dripped from its open maw. Its breath came like a forge’s bellows, deep and thunderous.

It should have kept running.

But when its eyes locked onto Riven’s, its course shifted.

With a guttural roar, the beast lunged straight toward him.

"Damn it," Riven hissed, turning and bolting.

But within moments, he realized—running wasn’t an option. The bear was far faster than it looked. The ground shook with every pounding step, and the distance closed alarmingly fast.

Riven clenched his teeth, pivoted sharply.

He stopped, feet planted firmly, raising Crysthalis in a defensive stance.

The bear roared again, barreling forward with claws wide—like a wall of knives.

Riven recalled the feeling from the previous battle—the calm, the focus, the clarity.

He swung.

But—

CRANGG!!

His blade only grazed the bear’s outer arm—a shallow cut, barely a scratch.

The bear’s claw came crashing down.

Riven dodged to the side, his footwork agile thanks to Ashtoria’s training. He rolled, sprang up, and countered with a slash from behind.

But the bear wasn’t a mindless beast. It spun around, attacking with savage precision. Riven barely saw the next strike coming and had to leap back again.

Blow after blow rained down. Riven dodged, slashed, countered—yet his blade had little effect. The beast’s flesh was too thick, its strength overwhelming.

His breath grew ragged.

And he was starting to struggle.

One of the bear’s claws grazed his shoulder, nearly toppling him. Riven stumbled back, his heels digging into the dirt.

The bear didn’t let up. It advanced—relentless, merciless.

Riven, though still standing, knew one truth:

If he didn’t find an opening...

He would die.

He took another step back, body trembling. His breath came in gasps, his chest heaving like he was drowning. Dew and dirt clung to his skin, sweat trickling down his jaw, mixing with fresh blood from minor wounds.

Before him, the bear loomed—its breath a death knell. Those red eyes stared through him, as if to say: You’re just another prey delaying the inevitable.

Riven gripped Crysthalis tighter. His hands trembled.

He tried to recall the sensation—that moment of perfect stillness. When his body had moved as one, and the world had narrowed into a single line.

He tried to summon it again.

He took a breath. Adjusted his stance. Relaxed his shoulders. Lightened his grip. Re-centered his weight, just as he’d been taught.

But it didn’t work.

There was no mistake in his form. His breathing was controlled. His posture stable. His swing precise, fluid.

Riven knew that. He could feel it—his body moved as it should. Nothing was technically wrong.

Yet...

Crysthalis still bounced off the bear’s hide, leaving only a shallow mark. No blood flowed.

His strike had landed. But it hadn’t cut.

Riven froze for a heartbeat, disbelieving.

"I did it right... then why...?"

His steps faltered—not from exhaustion, but from the creeping doubt clouding his heart. His gaze stayed fixed on the beast, but confusion dimmed his focus.

The bear stepped back, then countered with primal fury. Its claw nearly tore through his midsection, had he not twisted at the last second. The air hissed beside him, searing his skin with the sheer force of the missed blow.

Riven stumbled. His breath caught. His knees weakened.

’Why...’

His mind screamed.

’Why can’t I do it again?’

The question echoed inside him, full of despair and disbelief.

’What changed? I could do it before. I knew I could...’

But now...

He only felt lost.

As if that moment had been a dream he’d awakened from too soon.

He clutched his hair for a second, then seized Crysthalis again—tighter this time. Desperate. As if gripping a shattered hope.

"What am I supposed to understand now?!" he cried inwardly. The words never left his lips. Only heavy breaths and the thunder of blood rushing in his ears remained.

The bear roared again.

And Riven knew—his time was running out.

He couldn’t keep dodging.

He couldn’t keep questioning.

But he still... didn’t have the answer.