The Glitched Mage-Chapter 53: Echoes of the Past Part 1

The descent was silent.

Riven, Nyx, and Krux slipped into the darkness beneath the library, the hatch sealing behind them with a soft, final click.

Cold air wrapped around them, thick with the weight of time. The scent of dust, damp parchment, and stale mana lingered in the air like a ghost of forgotten knowledge. The walls of the passage were tight, curving as they spiraled downward, deeper into the abyss of the Hidden Archives.

Riven led the way, his flames casting flickering shadows along the stone.

His mind pulsed with his connection to Sana. She remained stationed at the front desk above, still as a statue, ensuring no one would notice their absence. The deception held—for now.

But the air was shifting.

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It was heavier now, thick with something unseen yet undeniable.

Krux stopped first.

His usual grin was nowhere to be found. He pressed a hand against the cold stone, his golden eyes darkening with something deep, something terrible.

Nyx halted beside him, her expression unreadable, her fingers twitching at her sides.

Riven frowned. "What is it?"

Neither answered at first.

Then, Krux exhaled, his voice quieter than usual. "It's here."

Nyx's fingers curled into a fist. "The past."

Riven's lips parted to question them further—but then he felt it.

A pull.

It wasn't magic. It wasn't a spell or a trap.

It was something older. Something woven into the very stones of this place.

The air thickened.

The world tilted.

And suddenly, they weren't in the passage anymore.

Flames raged in the night, reaching toward the heavens in violent, hungry spirals.

Screams tore through the air.

A kingdom, once thriving—was burning.

The Shadow Kingdom.

Dark-cloaked figures fled through the streets, their faces twisted in terror. Mothers clutched their children. Fathers stood, shaking, their bodies riddled with arrows and divine fire.

But there was no escape.

The Solis Kingdom's forces moved like an unstoppable tide, their golden armor gleaming beneath the blood-red sky.

The warriors of the Shadow Kingdom fought.

Necromantic magic twisted through the streets, raising the dead in desperate defiance, their skeletal hands clawing at invaders. Dark spells lashed through the air, shattering the ranks of the Solis Paladins.

But it wasn't enough.

For every enemy that fell, two more took their place. The Solis Kingdom had come prepared—archmages wreathed in holy fire, their spells cutting through necrotic energy like a blade through silk.

This wasn't war.

This was a purge.

Krux stood at the heart of the slaughter.

Not as he was now—not as the reckless warrior who laughed in the face of death—but as he had been then.

A general of Velmorian's army.

A warrior standing amidst the ruins of his people.

The battlefield stretched before him, the scent of burning flesh thick in the air. The cries of the dying had long since faded, swallowed by the triumphant roars of the Solis army.

His sword was shattered. The once-pristine edge was now jagged, chipped, useless.

Blood—not his own—coated his armor.

His men were gone.

His comrades, his soldiers, his brothers-in-arms—all cut down before him.

And he had failed them.

Krux's breath came ragged as he stood amidst the carnage, golden eyes burning as he watched the archmages drag the last of the necromancers into the open square.

Their robes were torn, their faces smeared with soot and despair.

Their hands were bound in radiant chains.

There was no trial. No judgment.

Only fire.

The archmages didn't hesitate as they set the necromancers alight.

Krux did not scream.

He did not beg.

He only clenched his fists so tightly his gauntlets cracked, his fury an unspoken vow as he watched his people turn to ash.

Nyx was there too.

The royal palace—the very heart of the Shadow Kingdom—lay in ruins.

Its once-majestic towers had been shattered. Its grand halls lay in crumbled ruin, covered with smoke and the scent of death.

She had stood in the throne room.

A warrior. A general. A guardian of the throne.

Her obsidian blade was slick with the blood of the invaders, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

The last of the Shadow Court lay around her—Velmorian's most trusted advisors, his scholars, his strategists. Their bodies were strewn across the black marble floors.

Velmorian himself was gone.

And with his departure, he had taken a vast reservoir of Abyssal mana—the very lifeblood that had sustained their people and fueled the might of their armies.

Still, Nyx had fought on.

For her people. For her king. For the remnants of what was left.

Until the Solis Paladins overwhelmed her.

Their golden-clad warriors surged into the throne room like a relentless tide. Their divine magic burned through her defenses, their radiant blades cutting through armor and flesh as though she were nothing.

She remembered the pain.

The unbearable light searing through her veins, tearing away the abyssal power she had sworn to protect.

Then—the cold.

The silence.

They had imprisoned her, shackled in divine chains, and cast her into the Abyss, condemned to centuries of silence and oblivion.

Until Riven appeared.

The visions faded as swiftly as they had come.

The past retreated, peeling away like smoke until the cold, dark corridor of the Hidden Archives returned.

But Krux and Nyx did not move.

Their breath came sharp and uneven, their bodies rigid, caught between then and now.

Krux exhaled first, a slow, shuddering breath.

"…I had almost forgotten," he murmured, his voice hoarse. Not with anger.

But with grief.

Nyx did not speak. She only pressed a hand to her temple, fingers trembling for the barest moment before curling into a tight fist.

Riven said nothing.

He only watched.

This was the truth the Solis Kingdom had tried to bury.

It wasn't just about conquest — It wasn't just about power.

They had erased an entire people. A kingdom. A legacy.

Riven clenched his fists. The abyss inside him pulsed, slow and deep, like a heartbeat.

The Solis Kingdom thought they had won — that they had burned away the past.

But the past never truly disappeared.

It simply waited.

And now, Riven was here to reawaken it.

The weight of the past still clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Krux and Nyx stood frozen in place, their breaths shallow, their eyes distant—lost in the horrors they had once endured.

But Riven could not afford to linger in their grief.

He exhaled slowly, his flames dimming at his fingertips as he turned his attention forward. The corridor ahead stretched deeper into the archives, its walls lined with ancient engravings, sigils that pulsed faintly with restrained power.

The knowledge of an entire kingdom lay buried here.

And he intended to claim it.

"Move." His voice was low, steady.

Krux was the first to respond. He let out a sharp exhale, rolling his neck as if to shake off the weight of memories that threatened to drag him under. "Tch. Damn place plays tricks on your head," he muttered, his voice rough.

Nyx didn't speak. She simply nodded, her usual sharp focus returning as she fell back in step with Riven.

The three pressed forward.

The corridor tightened the deeper they went, the walls pressing in with an eerie, almost unnatural closeness. The further they descended, the stronger the mana in the air became—a silent hum of restrained energy, a presence that coiled around them like unseen eyes watching their every step.

Then, at last, the passage opened and the Hidden Archives revealed itself.

The vast underground vault stretched before them, its towering walls lined with countless shelves, each filled with ancient tomes, scrolls, and relics of an era long erased. Black stone columns reached toward a ceiling so high it disappeared into the darkness. The faint glow of suspended orbs floated like dying stars, their dim light barely enough to illuminate the chamber's vast expanse.

At the far end of the room stood a single door. Massive — reinforced with layers of steel and Solis Kingdom sigils woven together in a twisted contradiction of power.

A Vault.

The final resting place of the Shadow Kingdom's greatest secrets.

"I knew we were coming for the necromancy skill books," Riven murmured as he took a slow step forward, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. "But it feels like we've stumbled onto something more—something worse."

Nyx's jaw tightened, her eyes fixed on the massive door before them. "I didn't think the Solis Kingdom would keep anything from the Shadow Kingdom. They destroyed everything else—why hold onto whatever is behind this door?" Her voice was sharp, but beneath it lay something colder. "It seems they wanted to keep trophies. A reminder of what they did."

Krux scoffed, his golden eyes narrowing as he crossed his arms. "Hmm… Well, one day soon, they will be reminded of the Shadow Kingdom once more. And when we rise, the world will never forget again."

Riven barely heard them. Now standing directly before the vault door, he could feel the weight of the magic locked behind it—a presence so immense it pressed against his senses, ancient and unrelenting. The mana pulsing from beyond the steel was unlike anything he had encountered before.

It sent a shiver down his spine.

Krux stepped forward, lowering his head slightly. "My liege, allow me." His voice was firm, but there was something deeper in his tone—an unspoken resolve. "You've exhausted yourself enough tonight. Let me handle the wards and locks."

Then, a hesitation. Just a fraction of a second before he spoke again, quieter this time.

"I feel like… this is my duty. As your general."

Riven turned, studying him.

Krux rarely spoke in such solemn tones. For all his boasting and reckless bravado, there was a warrior's loyalty beneath it—a loyalty forged in the fires of a kingdom that no longer existed.

Riven nodded and took a step back.

"Then do it."

Krux inhaled, steadying himself before placing his hands against the door. His mana surged, gold-tinged energy sinking into the ancient locks.

As he worked, Riven turned his gaze to Nyx.

Her fingers were curled into trembling fists at her sides.

"Are you alright?" His voice was lower now, a quiet question meant for her alone.

Nyx exhaled sharply, unclenching her hands before crossing her arms. "I feel like… something terrible is behind this door." Her voice wavered, just slightly, before she swallowed it down. "And I don't know how to prepare for it."

Riven's gaze softened.

"Whatever is behind this door needs to be found," he said. "Especially by me."

Nyx looked up at him then, her dark eyes meeting his.

"If I'm to become the next King of the Shadow Kingdom, I need to know everything—the victories, the failures… the truth."

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Then, Nyx exhaled slowly and nodded. "Then I suppose it's time for you to learn it… All of it."

She turned away slightly, and Riven caught the flicker of something in her expression.

A memory surfaced in his mind.

That day—when she had told him everything about Velmorian. About his rise, his fall, and the destruction of their kingdom.

But there was one thing she never told him. One truth she refused to speak — How Velmorian had been destroyed.

His eyes drifted back to the vault door.

Perhaps the answer lay beyond it.

A sharp breath pulled his attention back to Krux.

"It's done." Krux staggered slightly, his body drenched in sweat, his hands trembling at his sides.

Riven reached out, gripping his arm firmly. "You did well," he said.

Krux let out a breathless laugh and nodded.

Then, together, they turned toward the door.

And pushed.