Riven stretched, spine popping like bubble wrap as he yawned wide enough to swallow a galaxy.
He glanced at the grimoire—the cursed book That Person gave him. "You again," he muttered.
With zero ceremony, he plucked off his subspace ring, crushed it between two fingers like a stale cookie, and inhaled the magical mist like it was steam from a cup of cocoa.
Tsssshh. He ate the subspace and made it his own part.
Then, he casually flipped the grimoire into the air.
It didn't fall.
Instead, it melted into his chest like dark ink vanishing into parchment.
"Right… that's normal."
He looked around, blinking at the quiet street.
"Realm probably had me trapped for… what? Five? Six months?"
Not a single leaf out of place.
"…But same day. Same time. Same place." He squinted at the moon. "And not even blue anymore. Ugh, zero aesthetic."
He rolled his neck. "Well, guess I'm off. Mom's probably waiting with a frying pan."
[Scene Change: Home Sweet Home]
The door creaked open. Riven stepped in like he hadn't just survived cosmic nightmares and adopted an entire population of ex-demons.
"Hey… I'm home," he called casually.
His boots had barely touched the mat when—
"RIVEN ALTHARYS!"
The voice came from the kitchen. Not loud—but layered with maternal authority, the kind that could stop time and slap the sun into behaving.
"You missed dinner!"
Riven grinned. "Technically, dinner missed me. I was on an important spiritual journey."
"You mean the journey from your room to the fridge and back?" his mom shot back.
"Correct. Enlightenment was found behind the orange juice."
His dad peeked in, towel slung over one shoulder. "Look at this guy—comes home looking like he just rewrote reality."
"I did," Riven said. "So do I get extra dessert or…?"
Before the sarcasm could finish marinating, a pink blur rocketed down the hallway.
"RIVENNNNN!"
His seven-year-old sister tackled his leg like a koala on caffeine.
"I made a drawing of you riding a unicorn, and you missed it!"
Riven gasped. "A unicorn?! What tier of mythical royalty am I?!"
"You were the sparkly prince of Moonhorn Valley. Now you're just a loser who missed snack time."
"Ouch. Brutal. Can I see it at least?"
"Nope," she pouted. "The unicorn betrayed you and now it's mine."
"Fair."
He plopped down at the dining table.
His mom poked her head out. "Shoes. Off. Now."
Riven glanced down. "C'mon, it's not like I tracked in cosmic sludge again—"
"You summoned an arcane puddle last week and it ate the living room rug."
"Okay but it stopped being sentient after I fed it socks."
"Shoes. Off."
"Yes, Empress Mother."
His dad laughed. "She rules the house with an iron ladle."
"And you love it," she replied sweetly, setting down a plate.
"I absolutely do."
Riven sat, stuffing food into his face like a man who hadn't seen soup since before puberty. His sister climbed into the seat beside him.
"You smell weird."
"I smell like victory."
"Victory smells like goat."
[The Report Card Reckoning]
His mom slid into the seat across from him, sipping tea.
"So, Riven. Moral Philosophy—17 out of 100. Care to explain?"
Riven blinked, spoon midair. "Ah. My heroic downfall."
His dad leaned in like this was the best TV he'd seen in years.
Riven scratched his head. "Look, 17 is a very noble number. Symbolic, you know? It says, 'I fought for what I believed in.'"
"You fought the teacher, didn't you?" his mom asked flatly.
"Mentally. And technically, it was a debate. She just… lost her composure when I said morality is a convenient illusion."
His dad smirked. "Ah, the old 'ethics is subjective in a multiversal framework' argument again."
Riven: "She asked what I'd do if someone wronged me. I said, 'Summon a sword of existential despair and cut their fate line in half.' Boom. Detention."
Mom: "You WHAT?"
Riven: "Figuratively."
Mom: "You CANNOT threaten to erase someone's soul in class!"
Riven: "I didn't threaten. I postulated. Strongly."
Sister: "Did you try, like, just answering the question?"
Riven: "Did you try not being seven?"
Mom: "So you failed because you over-intellectualized morality?"
Riven (defensive): "I ace every other subject! Math, physics, runic geometry, elemental mastery, mana theory—heck, I built a spell engine in lunch break! But this one teacher wants me to 'feel the suffering of others.'"
Dad: "That sounds like your cue to fake empathy."
Riven: "Dad. I'm twelve, not a politician."
Mom groaned, massaging her temples. "Riven, one day your brain is going to get you arrested."
Riven: "Or recruited."
Sister: "Still got 17 marks though."
Riven: "I'm going to erase your coloring book."
Mom stood up. "You're grounded."
Riven pointed at his soup. "Let me finish enlightenment first."
Dad: "Leave him be. He's going to save the world someday."
Mom: "Maybe. But until then, he's going to retake Moral Philosophy."
Riven groaned. "Great. Guess I'll go argue with the concept of altruism tomorrow."
Mom: "Bring a pencil and a therapist."
Sister: "I'll make a new unicorn drawing… but this time you're the villain."
Riven sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll save the world. But only so I can pass Moral Philosophy without writing a thesis on cosmic compassion."
Riven lounged on the sofa, arms behind his head, a smug grin plastered on his face.
His mom stood in the hallway, arms crossed. "You still haven't started your homework."
"I already saved a realm today. Isn't that enough productivity for one lifetime?"
"Your real-life realm includes algebra, young man."
Riven muttered, "Should've stayed in the other dimension…"
His dad chimed in from the kitchen, snacking on chips. "You wouldn't have survived their taxes."
Riven sighed dramatically. "Even otherworldly civilizations don't escape capitalism. Tragic."
His sister peeked in with a notebook. "I'm writing a story about how you failed Moral Philosophy and became a potato."
"I demand editorial rights."
"Nope. You're now Potato Prince of Ethics."
He groaned. "Why is this house against me?"
"Because we live here," his mom said sweetly. "And we love you."
Riven blinked. "That's emotional blackmail."
"It's also dessert. If you clean your room."
He stood up slowly, glaring. "You fight gods. You build realms. But in this house… Mom still wins."
Dad raised a chip in salute. "Welcome to the real final boss."
Riven dragged his feet toward his room, mumbling, "I liked the shadow monsters better."
Later that night, when Riven had finally dragged himself off to bed—grumbling about "homework being the real villain of the multiverse"—his parents sat quietly at the table, the tea long gone cold.
His mom stared at the empty cup, tapping her finger against the porcelain. "You know… he's been joking all evening. But something felt… off."
His dad leaned back in the chair, expression more thoughtful than usual. "Yeah. Same here. I mean, the usual Riven nonsense is sarcastic. This was... different. He meant some of that stuff."
Mom "Are you gonna believe that some 12 year old kid would do aomething like that. He must have watched any movie at his friends house."
His dad gave a small, crooked smile. "Of course he was joking "
There was a pause.
Then she snapped back into mom-mode. "Well, until he becomes a cosmic emperor, he still needs to pass Moral Philosophy."