The Glitched Mage-Chapter 51: Strengthening the Mind

Riven and Nyx clashed relentlessly, their movements a blur of steel and abyssal fire. Each strike was met with equal ferocity, neither holding back, neither yielding. The chamber echoed with the sharp crackle of flames and the sharp clang of steel meeting unnatural heat.

By the time they finally staggered apart, their bodies bore the marks of battle—bruises forming beneath torn clothing, shallow cuts tracing lines of red against pale skin.

But Riven's breathing had steadied. The storm that had surged within him, the quiet rage that had threatened to consume him, was finally satiated.

If only for now.

Riven exhaled, flexing his fingers as the last embers of abyssal fire flickered and faded from his fingertips. The echoes of the battle still lingered in the air—Nyx's sharp breaths, the heat of their exchange, the faint scent of scorched stone.

Nyx wiped a thin line of blood from her lip with the back of her hand, her obsidian eyes gleaming with something close to exhilaration. She was grinning. She enjoyed this.

Riven smirked, shaking his head. "Satisfied?"

Nyx's grin widened as she sheathed her blade. "For now."

Krux reappeared then, stepping from the shadows, his arms crossed as he surveyed the aftermath of their spar. He let out a low whistle, his golden eyes flicking between them. "Well, that was something."

Nyx shot him a glare, but Riven merely chuckled. "Jealous, Krux?"

Krux placed a hand over his chest, feigning injury. "Always, my liege. I have yet to spar with you."

Nyx ignored them both, stepping closer to Riven, her expression sobering. "That fight… you were different," she murmured, her voice tinged with curiosity. "You let go, even if it was only for a moment.

Riven stilled. She wasn't wrong.

For those few minutes, he had felt something shift—something raw and unrestrained clawing at the surface alongside his growing anger. His abyssal flames had responded, their hunger mirroring his own.

And yet… he had been in complete control. In fact, he enjoyed it.

Riven glanced down at his palm, flexing his fingers as if expecting the abyss to still be there, coiling, waiting. But it was silent— dormant once more as if its hunger had been satiated.

"My liege," Krux said then, breaking Riven from his thoughts. "I've managed to compile this — forgive its messiness, I was in a rush to inscribe it."

Riven took the messily put together book from Krux's outstretched hand. Rivens brow furrowed as he felt how mana dense the book was. I flicked open a few pages and saw the hastily scribbled words. He ran his fingers over the letters and noticed that the words weren't written with ink — they were engraved.

'System, how are skill books made?' Riven sent out the question mentally, the thought never appearing till now.

[[ Scanning for data… ]]

The system responded with a wave of information flooding Riven's mind.

[[ Skill Books are created through an advanced Inscription Technique. This process requires a strong mental foundation, precise mana control, and a specially treated medium known as Arcane Parchment. The process follows these steps:

1. Mental Projection – The creator must first visualize the skill in its entirety, breaking it down into its core components. This requires a deep understanding of the technique.

2. Mana Inscription – Using a concentrated form of their own mana, the inscriber weaves the technique into the Arcane Parchment, fusing knowledge with energy.

3. Seal of Permanence – The final step requires a stabilizing mana formation to prevent the knowledge from dissipating, making the skill accessible to others.

Warning: A weak mind or an unstable mana core can result in backlash, causing permanent damage to one's cognition or mana pathways. Only advanced scholars or highly disciplined warriors attempt the craft.]]

Riven blinked, absorbing the information. He traced the engraved words on the page again, his sharp gaze narrowing in thought.

"You…" Riven's gaze lifted to Krux, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the warrior's appearance. He looked noticeably gaunt, exhaustion evident in the tightness of his features. "You can inscribe?"

Krux's grin didn't falter, though his tired eyes squinted slightly. "Of course!" he declared, thumping his chest with his fist. "I told you, martial artists like me need a strong mind! Inscription's just another form of discipline."

Riven's frown deepened, his skepticism plain. He tilted his head, as if reassessing Krux entirely. The idea that someone as boisterous—and occasionally dense—as Krux could master something as intricate as inscription seemed almost absurd.

Krux's smile faltered, his expression twisting into something halfway between offense and wounded pride. "Hey," he muttered, folding his arms. "You don't have to look so doubtful, my liege. I do have a brain, you know."

Nyx snorted, and Krux's jaw tensed before he reached out to ruffle her hair in retaliation. The gesture barely lasted a second before Nyx's fist slammed into his stomach with a sharp thud, forcing a grunt from his lips.

What started as a harmless squabble escalated almost instantly. Krux retaliated with a sweeping leg feint, which Nyx dodged with a sharp pivot. In the span of a breath, they were fully engaged—Nyx weaving between Krux's wide strikes, her movements precise and fluid, while Krux grinned through the skirmish, enjoying the challenge.

Riven sighed, shaking his head as he left them to their antics. He took the book Krux had given him and moved to a quieter corner of the mausoleum, settling down on a worn stone bench.

With a flick of his thumb, he opened the book.

[[ You have obtained a Skill Book! ]]

[[ Skill Book: Strengthening the Mind ]]

[[ Once learned, you will understand how to access and strengthen your mental power. ]]

[[ Would you like to learn this skill? ]]

[[ Yes / No ]]

Riven's eyes flickered over the notification, the weight of the decision settling over him. Strengthening his mental power… if this worked, it could mean refining his connection to the undead, extending the duration of his control over Sana, and perhaps even pushing his abyssal flames further.

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He didn't hesitate.

[[ Yes. ]]

Riven expected the familiar sensation—the gentle lift of his body, the book hovering alongside him, both bound by an intricate web of mana, just as it had been when he learned his previous skills.

But this time… it was different.

The moment Riven confirmed his choice, a deep, resonating pulse echoed through his mind.

The world around him dimmed. The torches lining the mausoleum flickered, then vanished altogether as an unseen force pulled him inward—deeper.

For a moment, he felt nothing.

Then—reality fractured.

When his senses returned, he found himself standing in an unfamiliar space.

A void stretched infinitely in all directions, not dark, not light—just empty. It wasn't the abyss, nor was it the Created Space Training space — it was something else entirely. Something raw.

He was in his own mind.

Riven took a slow breath, steadying himself. The silence here wasn't oppressive—it was absolute.

Then, his surroundings shifted.

A shape emerged from the nothingness. At first, it was indistinct, but as Riven focused, it solidified—a weathered grindstone, cracked and chipped with age. A foot pedal rested at its base, and the faintest glimmer of steel lay beside it.

Riven stepped closer.

An old, rusty sword rested next to the grindstone. Its blade was dulled, edges jagged from time, rust eating away at its once-proud steel. The hilt was worn, the leather wrapping barely holding together.

It was his sword. Not in the literal sense—he had never wielded this blade before—but somehow, he knew.

This was his mind. And the sword… it was his will.

A single realization settled over him.

To strengthen the mind, one must sharpen the blade.

He exhaled, reaching down to grasp the weapon. His fingers closed around the hilt, and for a brief moment, he felt the weight of it—far heavier than any sword he had ever held.

Slowly, he lifted it, placing the rusted edge against the grindstone.

The moment the blade made contact—pain.

A searing agony tore through his skull.

It was unlike anything Riven had ever felt before. Not the burning of abyssal flames, not the raw tearing of mana backlash—this pain wasn't physical.

It was internal.

Like something was clawing at his very mind, tearing through his thoughts, unraveling the foundation of his own consciousness.

His vision blurred.

For a moment, he saw himself. Flickering images—his past, his battles, the cold, uncaring faces of the Drakar family. The scorn in the maids eyes as they tormented him. The betrayal of his father from his previous life. The pain of rejection, of exile, of being deemed insufficient.

The weight of all those memories crashed down on him like an avalanche.

He staggered, nearly dropping the sword.

His body screamed at him to stop.

But he gritted his teeth, forcing his grip to tighten.

This is the test.

The pain was the rust. The weaknesses. The burdens he had carried all this time.

And to strengthen the mind—to sharpen the blade—he had to endure.

Riven inhaled sharply and pressed his foot against the grindstone pedal.

The wheel turned.

Sparks flew as the rusted edge scraped against the stone, the sound grating and sharp. The pain doubled, a jagged bolt of agony lancing through his skull, but Riven did not stop.

He pushed through it.

Sparks turned to embers. The rust flaked away, revealing something beneath—steel, still dull, but purer than before.

The pain was excruciating.

It felt like his very existence was being reshaped.

But Riven… Riven was not weak.

He had endured torment before. He had been cast aside, abandoned, underestimated.

This was nothing.

He ground the blade.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Each pass over the grindstone stripped away another layer of weakness. Of doubt. Of fear.

The memories that once haunted him—the echoes of the past—began to sharpen, reshaped and reforged by his own will.

Until finally—

The pain lessened.

The blade gleamed.

It was still incomplete, still rough, but no longer buried under decay.

Riven exhaled, stepping back. His vision flickered, the void around him shifting.

He was returning.

—x—

His eyes snapped open.

The mausoleum came back into focus.

Riven was drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged, his entire body trembling despite the fact that he had not moved.

Nyx and Krux were staring at him.

Nyx looked slightly alarmed. "Uh… you okay, my liege? You were convulsing."

Riven let out a slow, controlled breath.

His mind felt… clearer.

Lighter.

He clenched his fists, testing his own focus. The world around him seemed sharper—details he would have once overlooked now stood out in perfect clarity. The sensation of noise in his mind, the unnecessary distractions that always lurked in the back of his thoughts, was gone.

His mental strength had increased. He knew it.

A notification appeared before him.

[[ Your mental fortitude has increased! ]]

Riven's lips curled into a slow smirk.

"That is quite the skill, Krux." Riven gasped slightly and a flash of understanding flickered in Krux's golden eyes.

Krux's grin widened, though there was something more knowing behind his usual boisterous confidence. "Told you, my liege. Martial artists aren't all brawn. Strength of mind is just as important as strength of body."

Riven flexed his fingers and then rubbed at the stiff muscles at his neck as the last vestiges of the experience faded.

He noticed the subtle flicker of Nyx's amused smirk— something he might not have caught before. Now, it stood out as clear as a rune etched in stone.

"You look different," Nyx mused, tilting her head. "More… composed."

Riven smirked. "I feel different."

Nyx arched a brow. "In a good way?"

"In the only way that matters." He stood, stretching slightly. "I feel stronger."

He turned his focus back to Krux, considering the warrior for a moment. There was something there—something he hadn't noticed before. Beneath Krux's usual bravado, there was a discipline. A sharpness.

This man… is more than he appears.

"I'll admit," Riven said slowly, crossing his arms. "I underestimated how useful this would be. You have my thanks, Krux."

Krux straightened at those words, his entire body seeming to bristle with pride. "Haha! Of course! Leave it to your number one general to provide the best techniques!" He thumped his chest with an exaggerated grin before his expression softened slightly. "But… be careful with it, my liege. Strengthening the mind isn't just about focus. It's about breaking down barriers. You'll see things more clearly, but you'll also feel more. Remember that."

Riven absorbed those words, filing them away for later.

He had already sensed it—his thoughts were sharper, but so were his emotions. They felt closer, more vivid. More tangible.

It was something to be wary of.

Nyx leaned against the mausoleum wall, arms crossed. "So, what now?"

Riven exhaled, his mind already shifting to the next step. "We move forward. The library's hidden archives are still my priority. Sana is in place and still remains undetected, and now…" He clenched his fist, feeling the renewed strength in his mind. "I have the tools to take this further."

A smirk tugged at Nyx's lips. "So we're finally doing this?"

Krux cracked his knuckles. "About time."

Riven's gaze darkened, his abyssal flames flickering to life around his fingertips.

"It's time," he murmured. "Let's claim what's mine."