The Glitched Mage-Chapter 52: The Infiltration Begins

The weight of the mausoleum's silence settled around Riven like a cloak. He closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath. The sharpening of his mind had granted him an edge—one he fully intended to test.

With a flicker of thought, he reached outward, stretching his awareness beyond his own body, beyond the walls of the chamber.

The bond with Sana pulsed in his mind, distant yet clear.

She was inside the library.

Standing. Waiting.

Through the connection, Riven could sense her stillness, the eerie lack of breath, the way she blended seamlessly with the living Acolytes. If he hadn't known better, he might have thought she was just another servant of the academy.

Riven inhaled deeply, pushing his consciousness further until something in his mind shifted—an invisible thread tightening. His vision flickered, and in the next instant, he was no longer in his own body.

He felt it—Sana's awareness.

The world unfolded around him, not in shades of light and dark, but in pulses of mana. Every object, every structure, exuded its own unique signature, weaving a tapestry of presence and power. The restricted archives loomed before her—not as towering bookshelves and shadowed alcoves, but as a dense cluster of mana signatures, the knowledge within thrumming with dormant energy.

So this was how the Acolytes perceived the world. He had always known that their blindfolds were a requirement for serving in the library—a symbol of both privilege and restriction. They had access to the vast knowledge of magic and the kingdom's secrets, yet they were forbidden from reading a single word with their own eyes.

Instead, their sight was forged through mana. Deprived of vision, they had cultivated an acute sensitivity to its flow, navigating reality not through light and shadow, but through the ebb and pulse of raw energy itself.

Scrolls glowed faintly with preserved spells ahead, ancient tomes radiated layered enchantments meant to deter intruders, and the very walls hummed with wards designed to repel unauthorized hands. Every trace of magic left behind by the acolytes was like an imprint on the air, a whisper of movement long faded.

Sana moved with careful precision.

She knew what she was looking for—files detailing the hidden archives beneath the academy.

Riven's command echoed within her mind:

"Wait until they're gone. No witnesses."

And so she stood, motionless, waiting as time stretched on.

Footsteps passed, Acolytes whispering to each other as they departed for the night.

The glow of lanterns dimmed as the last of them exited the restricted section, the heavy door groaning shut behind them.

Silence.

'Now.'

Sana moved.

Her steps made no sound as she drifted toward the towering shelves. Her fingers, cold and precise, trailed along the labeled spines, scanning quickly.

Then, she found it.

A row of aged documents, sealed with the emblem of the academy's High Curators.

She reached forward, her fingers ghosting over the edges.

A shudder ran through the air.

A ward.

Riven, still connected to her mind, could see the delicate threads of mana woven around the files. A passive alarm—not an active defense, but a detection spell meant to alert the Curators if the seal was broken.

A lesser infiltrator might have been caught, but Riven had already anticipated this.

He reached through Sana's consciousness, guiding her mana, weaving it like a thread through the structure of the ward.

Unravel it.

Sana's fingers moved in precise patterns, tracing unseen sigils in the air. Slowly, the ward began to loosen, its mana shifting under her influence.

The spell broke apart soundlessly and Riven smirked.

She lifted the files from their place, slipping them into the folds of her robes.

Step one was complete — Now came the real test.

Sana turned, gliding through the dim corridors of the library, careful to avoid the last remaining patrols.

She made her way toward the second floor, where private training rooms were located—where Riven still had access. She reached the door without issue, using the acolyte keystone to bypass the lock.

The moment she stepped inside, she moved to the farthest corner of the room, where stacks of discarded books lay forgotten for the day. With careful precision, she slipped the stolen files beneath them, making sure they blended into the surrounding clutter.

Then, without hesitation, she turned and left.

The door locked behind her with a soft click.

Riven's mind recoiled back into his own body, the sudden shift leaving his vision blurred for a heartbeat before clarity returned. He drew in a sharp breath, his fingers flexing as the weight of the mission's success settled over him.

"The files are in place," he murmured.

Nyx straightened, pushing off the wall. "That easy?"

Riven smirked. "We're not done yet. I still have to retrieve them."

Krux cracked his knuckles, his golden eyes gleaming. "Then let's not waste time."

Riven nodded.

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The real infiltration was about to begin.

—x—

The academy's library was quiet at this hour. Riven moved through the halls with calculated ease, his presence barely registering to the few remaining students still buried in their studies.

The Acolyte at the entrance barely glanced at him as he passed through, scanning his talisman without question.

He ascended to the second floor, his steps measured, precise.

The private training rooms stood in a long, empty hallway. Riven reached for the keystone in his pocket, pressing it against the panel. A soft shimmer pulsed through the air as the barrier recognized his access.

The door unlocked and Riven stepped inside.

He moved toward the corner of the room, kneeling beside the abandoned books that had yet to be retrieved by the acolytes.

His fingers brushed against the edge of the files.

A faint pulse of magic still lingered over them, an aftershock of the ward he had broken through Sana.

He picked up the documents, flipping through the first few pages.

What he saw made his breath hitch.

Hidden Archives: Sealed Remnants of the Shadow Kingdom.

A cold chill ran down his spine. His fingers tensed around the parchment, a faint tremor betraying the storm surging beneath his calm exterior.

Riven's breath came slow and measured, but his grip on the pages was tight, knuckles pale against the aged parchment. The title alone had sent an eerie shiver down his spine, but it was the words that followed that made his blood run cold.

After Velmorian's disappearance, the Solis Kingdom declared the Shadow Kingdom a threat to the stability of the realm. Their armies descended upon its lands, not in conquest, but in complete and total eradication.

Riven's eyes flickered with abyssal flames for a split second before he forced himself to keep reading.

The war did not end with Velmorian. It did not end when the last of his generals fell. The Solis Kingdom did not claim victory when the Shadow Army crumbled beneath their overwhelming forces. No, they continued onward, deeper into the kingdom's heart, until every living remnant of it was purged.

A slow, crawling sensation coiled in his chest as he turned the page.

The civilians—men, women, and children—were not spared.

Riven's breathing stopped.

Despite surrendering, despite pleading, despite having no part in the war, they were labeled as 'tainted' by the influence of the Shadow King. Entire villages were burned to the ground, their inhabitants slaughtered in cold blood. Bloodlines were erased, histories rewritten, and the land itself salted to prevent even the memory of the Shadow Kingdom from taking root again.

The grip on the parchment tightened until the edges of the page nearly crumpled.

He had known—suspected, at the very least—that the Solis Kingdom had wiped out Velmorian's forces. But this… this was beyond mere war.

This was genocide.

A systematic destruction of everything the Shadow Kingdom once was.

The next section made his stomach twist.

Those who showed signs of necromantic affinity were executed on sight. The libraries, archives, and tombs of the Shadow Kingdom were raided, their contents deemed forbidden. All texts, artifacts, and remnants of Velmorian's rule were sealed beneath the academy in the Hidden Archives, locked away with layered enchantments to ensure that none would ever see the light of day again.

Riven's pulse thrummed against his skull.

That was the true purpose of the Hidden Archives. Not just a vault of knowledge, but a tomb—a place where history was buried. Where the truth was silenced.

A slow, bitter chuckle escaped his lips. Of course. Of course, the Solis Kingdom, so revered, so proud of its 'righteous rule,' would hide its sins in a place no one could reach.

Riven set the file down, his fingers still trembling, though his expression remained eerily calm. The silence of the training room pressed down on him, thick with the weight of revelation.

So this was what they feared.

Not necromancy itself. Not the return of Velmorian's teachings.

They feared the truth.

The knowledge of what they had done.

Riven exhaled through his nose, his expression darkening. His abyssal flames flickered along the edges of his fingertips, curling like shadows.

His mind worked quickly.

The Hidden Archives contained more than just forbidden skills—they contained the very foundation of the Shadow Kingdom. The records, the research and the former skills the shadow king and his court once wielded and taught.

A treasure trove of power.

A graveyard of the past.

The last few documents were schematics of the hidden archive. Riven traced a finger over the information laid out before him. The ink was faded, the parchment brittle, but the information was clear. Beneath the grand library, hidden beyond layers of deception and centuries-old enchantments, the Hidden Archives waited.

A tomb of knowledge. A graveyard of truth.

Riven already knew that the entrance was disguised, not behind some grand concealed door or beneath a forgotten stairwell, but in plain sight—beneath the Acolyte's desk on the first floor of the library. The very place where the blindfolded attendants processed records, issued tomes, and controlled access to restricted areas.

A brilliant deception.

No one would ever suspect that the very heart of the academy's forbidden knowledge lay just beneath the feet of those who served it.

His mind sharpened, pulling at the threads of his connection to Sana. She returned, briefly collecting the stolen files and returning them to their section, ensuring their absence would not be noticed.

After a while, she returned to the front desk on the first floor. Through her sight, he saw the flowing currents of mana that laced the space beneath her.

A hidden mechanism. A sealed hatch woven with protective enchantments. A lock that no key could open—only magic.

Riven's fingers tapped against his chin. The challenge wasn't just getting inside; it was getting inside without alerting the entire academy.

There were layers of wards. Some were passive—meant to obscure and misdirect. Others were active—alarms that would trigger the moment unauthorized magic tampered with the seal.

His mind churned.

A frontal assault was out of the question. Even with his abyssal flames, brute force would trigger every safeguard in place. He needed precision. A way to deactivate the wards without leaving a trace.

He exhaled sharply and summoned Nyx and Krux from his shadows, "We're going to dismantle the wards one by one—without triggering any alarms."

Nyx smirked, crossing her arms. "Tch. And here I thought you'd say something reckless like 'burn the whole library down.'"

Krux chuckled, but there was an edge to his usual bravado. "Alright, my liege. What's the plan?"

Riven quickly began to describe the layout to them.

There were three layers.

The first was an Illusion Ward, meant to obscure the hatch from ordinary sight. The second was a Recognition Barrier, a spell that only allowed authorized individuals—High Curators and key Acolytes—to bypass it. The final layer was an Alarm Seal, a delayed-trigger enchantment that would activate the moment someone attempted to dispel the first two without the proper authority.

It was a perfect defense. If someone tried to brute-force their way through, the alarm would trigger before they even got past the first layer.

He had seen how the wards over the restricted archives had been woven. If the Curators used a similar system, there was a way to sever their connection to the larger detection network—turning the alarm into nothing more than a dead spell.

But that would require precision.

His mind raced, considering every possible countermeasure the academy might have. Then, finally, a plan took shape.

"Nyx, you'll handle the first ward. You're attuned to shadow magic—you can manipulate its flow just enough to distort the illusion rather than dispel it outright."

Nyx nodded, clenching her fists in anticipation.

"Krux, you and I will deal with the second barrier. The Recognition Barrier is tied to the library's Acolyte network, meaning we either need to mimic an authorized signature—or break it entirely."

Krux arched a brow. "You thinking of using Sana?"

Riven's lips curled. "Exactly. She's still an Acolyte as far as their systems are concerned. She can be our key."

"And the alarm ward?" Nyx asked, eyes sharp.

Riven smirked, "That one's mine."

Nyx let out a quiet laugh. "Of course it is."

They had their plan. Now, they just needed to execute.

They moved carefully back to the first floor, Nyx and Krux hidden in his shadow.

The library was quiet at this hour, the last lingering students having already departed. The remaining Acolytes moved in predictable patterns.

Sana was at the front desk, unmoving as always.

Riven tapped into their link.

"Stand by. When I give the signal, tap into the Recognition Barrier. Just enough to distort it—don't dispel it completely."

Sana gave a silent acknowledgment through their bond.

Nyx moved first.

She moved with the grace of a whisper, stepping towards the Acolyte's desk under the cover of her own shadows. She leaned against it lazily, her expression unreadable, her fingers tracing the polished wood in slow, idle movements.

Riven saw it through his enhanced perception—shadows seeping from her fingertips, curling like ink spreading through water. They laced through the surface of the desk, sinking into the mana currents that composed the Illusion Ward.

She wasn't dispelling it. She was shifting it.

Rather than forcing the illusion to break, she wove her shadows into its construct, making it respond to her will.

A heartbeat passed.

The enchantment flickered, its edges rippling like disturbed water.

The hatch beneath the desk began to reveal itself. Faintly—only for those who knew what to look for. To any outsider, the desk still appeared unremarkable. But to them, the spell's veil had been lifted.

Nyx's lips curled slightly. "First one's down."

Riven tapped into Sana's mind. "Now."

Sana shifted ever so slightly. To the Acolytes nearby, it was nothing—a mere adjustment in posture.

But to the magic interwoven around the hatch, it was everything.

She brushed against the Recognition Barrier, her mana aligning with its threads in perfect synchronization. Not to force her way through—but to mimic an authorized presence.

For a split second, the barrier hesitated.

That was all Krux and Riven needed.

Krux pressed his palm against the desk, channeling a controlled burst of mana—not enough to disrupt the enchantment, but enough to weaken its structure.

Riven's abyssal flames slithered through the cracks, threading into the barrier like dark veins.

Then—he severed the weave.

The barrier crumbled, dissipating into scattered embers.

Krux grinned. "That's two."

Riven crouched, his palm hovering over the hatch.

The Alarm Seal pulsed beneath his touch.

Unlike the previous wards, this one didn't block entry—it was designed to notify the academy's High Curators the moment it was tampered with. If they failed here, their cover would be blown.

Riven exhaled, closing his eyes.

He didn't just see the ward—he felt it.

It was connected to the academy's security network, an anchor linking it to a distant detection core. Most would try to disable the alarm directly—but that was a mistake.

The better strategy? Sever the anchor.

Riven's consciousness plunged into the ward's structure, following the web of mana to its source. He found it—a thread buried deep within the enchantment, pulsing with latent energy.

A delicate thing.

One wrong move, and it would snap—triggering the alarm instantly.

Riven exhaled and cut it.

The ward's mana flickered. Then died.

No alarm. No signal.

Nothing.

It was over… the hatch was unsealed.

Nyx let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Krux stretched his arms. "That could've been disastrous."

Nyx tapped her foot against the hatch's surface. "So? Are we going in or what?"

Riven's gaze darkened as he knelt, gripping the hatch's handle. With a sharp pull, he wrenched it open.

Beneath them, a dark passage spiraled downward. The air that wafted up was old—stagnant. The scent of dust, parchment, and something else.

Something ancient.

Krux peered into the abyss. "Well, this looks cozy."

Nyx rolled her shoulders. "If we get locked down there, I'm blaming you."

Riven conjured a small fireball, its flickering glow casting shifting shadows as it hovered above his palm, illuminating the path descending into the depths.

"Let's find out what they buried."

And with that, they descended into the Hidden Archives.