The Glitched Mage-Chapter 41: Second Year

As Riven stepped out of the Headmaster's office, the same two Acolytes awaited him, standing motionless beside the now-active teleportation gate that had appeared beside the office doors.

Amusement flickered in his eyes as he let out a quiet chuckle.

So, making him walk all the way up here had been intentional after all.

Without hesitation, he strode into the gate, and in an instant, the towering halls of the upper academy vanished. When the light faded, he found himself standing in the academy's main entrance hall once more.

Other students cast glances his way, murmuring in hushed voices as he passed.

The academy buzzed with early morning activity—students filtering in and out, preparing for the start of a new day. Riven exhaled, weaving through the crowd as he made his way back to his quarters to freshen up.

"Riven Drakar?"

The call stopped him mid-step. He turned to find a young male staff member standing behind the desk near the first-year dormitories, his expression a mixture of disbelief and curiosity.

"Yes?" Riven arched a brow.

"We just received word—you've been promoted to the second year." The staff member hesitated as if double-checking the information, then continued, "You've been assigned a new room in the second-year dormitories on level twenty. There's a teleportation gate at the end of that hallway." He gestured toward a corridor Riven had yet to explore.

Riven paused, momentarily taken aback.

That was fast.

Realizing he had little to pack from his first-year dorm, Riven decided to locate his new accommodations.

Stepping through the teleportation gate, he was immediately struck by the shift in atmosphere. The mana here was denser, saturating the air with an almost tangible weight. The hallways were broader, the decor far more elaborate than the stark simplicity of the lower floors.

As he took in his surroundings, a girl with short brown hair and dark eyes approached him, her gaze flicking over his white first-year robes with a slight frown.

"Excuse me," she said hesitantly. "This is the second-year residence." She glanced back toward the lower levels. "The first-year dorms are below."

Riven offered a fake, polite smile. "Thank you, but I've just been promoted to the second year."

Her expression shifted, eyes widening slightly. "Oh… but aren't you the youngest son…" She trailed off, shaking her head before motioning to a set of desks further down the hallway. "Never mind. You'll need to report to the office to receive your room assignment and new uniform."

With a nod of gratitude, Riven continued toward the administrative desk. The hallway buzzed with hushed whispers, second-year students throwing curious glances his way.

"Isn't that Riven Drakar?" someone murmured.

"Why is he here? He's a first-year, isn't he?"

"I wonder if Ember and Cole know their little brother is here."

Riven exhaled, pushing aside the attention as he approached the desk. A middle-aged staff member, barely looking up from his stack of files, greeted him with the enthusiasm of a man who had long since stopped caring.

"How can I help?" the man muttered, flipping through documents without meeting Riven's gaze.

"I've been transferred to the second-year class," Riven explained. "I was told to come here for my room assignment and new robes."

"Name?" the man asked, his tone flat.

"Riven Drakar."

At that, the staff member hesitated ever so slightly before scribbling something down. Without another word, he disappeared into the back, returning moments later with two sets of dark robes and a small crystal talisman attached to a string.

"The second-year system is vastly different from the first," he explained as he handed over the items. "This talisman records your progress. It grants access to the upper floors of the library and tracks your merit points. Elders award merits based on achievements, which can then be exchanged for potions, training resources, or access to mana-dense islands."

Riven's brow lifted slightly as he examined the talisman.

So, there were real benefits to advancing. That made him wonder—what privileges did the third years have?

"Your room is at the end of this hallway, number 238," the man added with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Taking the hint, Riven turned and strode down the hall. He stopped at the very last door, pushing it open to reveal his new quarters.

His expression darkened slightly.

Though more furnished than his previous room, it was far smaller than he expected. A single chamber with an adjoining bathroom—functional, but lacking.

Most importantly, there was no training room.

"Tsk." Riven dropped onto the bed, irritation flickering in his mind.

There had to be better rooms than this.

And he intended to find out how to get one.

—x—

Riven secured his new robes, the dark fabric light and breathable compared to his previous ones. He fastened the circular talisman to his belt, its weight barely noticeable—but its significance clear.

[[ WARNING ]]

[[ Someone is approaching your room ]]

His brows furrowed as his gaze snapped toward the door. A moment later, three soft knocks echoed through the space.

Shadows curled at his fingertips, barely visible behind his back, ready to strike if needed.

He pulled the door open, and the first thing he saw was a cascade of fiery red curls.

"Riven!" Ember grinned up at him, her ruby eyes gleaming with excitement. "So the rumors are true! You really have advanced to the second year, haven't you?"

"Ember." Riven forced a polite smile, letting the lingering shadows dissipate from his hands. "Yes, it all happened rather suddenly."

"I figured. I've actually been trying to find you these past few days." Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly, a hint of unease creeping into her expression. "Can we take a walk? I need to talk to you."

Riven hesitated but then nodded. This could be an opportunity to gather valuable information about the second year.

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They passed through the teleportation gate, emerging outside the academy grounds. A narrow river ran parallel to their path, the late summer sun casting golden reflections across its surface. A few students lingered nearby, too preoccupied with their own tasks to pay much attention to the siblings.

"So," Riven finally said, "what's wrong?"

Ember exhaled, crossing her arms. "Cole returned home to recover after the fight you two had."

Riven's steps slowed, but he said nothing.

"Mother was furious," Ember continued. "She demanded you be brought back and disciplined immediately. She wanted Father to strip you of the family name and have the academy expel you."

His jaw tightened. Even his shadows trembled in response.

So, Cole had gone running back to his mother like a wounded pup.

Pathetic.

"But," Ember added, her voice softening, "Father is hesitating. He's been receiving reports about your progress at the academy." She glanced up at him, a small, almost proud smile tugging at her lips. "Now that you've reached the second year, he might just… let this go."

Riven scoffed, his tone bitter. "Of course. He only acknowledges those who prove useful."

Ember flinched at his words, but after a brief pause, she sighed. "You're not wrong. There's no room for failure in House Drakar."

Silence stretched between them, the sound of rushing water filling the space.

"You'll probably still be summoned home," she warned. "But as long as you keep advancing, there won't be a punishment."

"Thanks for the warning," Riven muttered.

They walked in silence for a while before he finally asked, "So… tell me about the second year. It's still a bit unfamiliar."

Ember's demeanor brightened, the tension lifting. "Oh! Of course! It's better if I show you."

Before he could react, she grabbed his wrist and dragged him back through the academy. Riven barely resisted the urge to wrench himself free, swallowing down his irritation.

They entered a vast chamber at the academy's center, and Riven's eyes widened.

Gateways lined the walls—some open and unguarded, others closely watched by academy staff or knights. The room thrummed with energy, the sheer density of mana palpable.

"This is the Navigation Hall," Ember explained. "Each gateway leads to different locations across the continent, as well as the various islands surrounding the academy."

Riven's eyes flickered with intrigue.

This was far more than what the first years had access to.

Ember pulled him toward one of the larger gateways, a warm breeze brushing against his skin from what lay beyond. "This is the Second-Year Island. You can only enter if you're carrying your talisman."

The moment they stepped through, Riven was stunned.

They emerged onto a bustling street, lined with shops and market stalls. Some were run by staff, but others—surprisingly—were manned by students. The air buzzed with commerce and conversation, the scent of alchemical ingredients, freshly forged weapons, and exotic foods mingling together.

"This is the market district," Ember explained, leading him down the main path. "Everything here is run by the academy. The only accepted currency is mana cores and merit points. You can even rent a stall to sell your own goods—potions, weapons, anything."

Riven was momentarily taken aback. The difference between the first and second years was staggering. It was as if the first year was nothing more than a test—to weed out the weak. Only those who proved themselves worthy could glimpse the academy's true potential.

"And over here," Ember continued, "are the main training grounds."

The path opened up into a massive arena. Several dueling stages stood in the center, surrounded by racks of training weapons and enchanted equipment. Groups of students were scattered throughout, their expressions sharp with focus.

Riven's gaze swept the crowd—until his eyes landed on a familiar face.

Kai.

The second-year student he had humiliated before.

Kai's skin lost all color the moment he saw Riven. His eyes went wide, his breath catching.

Riven smirked and gave him a small wave.

Kai immediately spun on his heel and disappeared into the crowd.

How rude.

Ember didn't seem to notice. She tugged him toward a towering black monolith near the training grounds. "This," she said with excitement, "is the most important part of the second year."

Riven stepped closer.

Etched into the monolith's surface was a list of names. Every few seconds, some of them flickered—shifting up or down in rank.

"This is the Record of Power," Ember explained. She gestured to the very bottom of the list. "Your name is last—number 238—because you just joined. You can challenge any second year and, if you win, you take their rank. The higher you climb, the better rewards you'll get."

Riven's eyes traced the glowing names.

"The top students gain access to restricted areas, rare resources, and more merits," Ember continued, her voice brimming with excitement. "And if you make it into the top ten, you get a personal house and a shop in the market district!"

Her ruby eyes gleamed as she turned to him. "Isn't that amazing?"

Riven's hands clenched.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

This—this was how the academy was truly meant to be. A place where strength dictated status. Where he could rise—carve his name into history.

And he was going to take it all.