The Glitched Mage-Chapter 55: Battle of Shadows

The vault burned behind them.

Abyssal flames roared, devouring centuries of history, erasing the remnants of Velmorian's failures. The truth of the past had been laid bare, but it no longer mattered. Riven had seen all he needed to see.

The cursed armor had claimed him, molding itself to his form as if it had always been waiting for him. Its abyssal engravings pulsed, feeding off the dark flames coursing through his veins. Every step he took resonated with power.

At his feet, Aria lay still, her body frail from centuries of imprisonment. Her silver-white hair was matted, her once-sharp presence dulled by the weight of her suffering. Yet, even in her weakened state, the mana around her whispered of who she had been—the assassin of the Shadow Kingdom, the ghost who had once danced through battle with a set of blades like wind.

Krux and Nyx still knelt before him, their heads bowed. They had learned their place. The past was gone—Velmorian was gone. There was only one king now.

Riven turned toward the exit.

"Sana, it's time." His voice carried through their mental link, quiet but absolute.

In an instant, he felt her presence sharpen. A moment later, her voice drifted through their connection.

"Understood, master."

Above, where the library lay cloaked in silence, Sana moved unseen. Like the acolytes who roamed its halls, she glided toward the sealed hatch, her mana skimming the enchantments woven into the corridors. The wards had already been unraveled once—Sana's touch was all that was needed to guide them aside once more.

She didn't break them.

She didn't dispel them.

She simply… bent them.

A shift so minute it was imperceptible, a whisper in the flow of security. The threads of detection twisted just enough to weave around them, bypassing their presence entirely.

He lifted Aria's limp form, draping her over his shoulder with ease. Then, with a flick of his wrist, abyssal shadows unraveled from beneath him, stretching outward like living tendrils.

Nyx and Krux vanished first, swallowed by the darkness.

Then, Aria.

And finally, himself.

The shadows coiled inward, pulling them from the vault.

A heartbeat later, they emerged from the depths of the library, slipping through the hatch like a wraith. The air shifted as Riven's feet touched solid ground once more.

For now, he concealed the armor within his inventory, avoiding any unnecessary attention. But he knew—whenever the moment demanded—it would be at his command.

He gave a brief nod to Sana, who silently set to work, sealing the hatch once more. As Riven stepped out of the library, a quiet sigh escaped him. The weight of the vault still lingered in his chest, a silent acknowledgment that the person who had entered those depths hours ago was not the same one now walking away.

—x—

The mausoleum's silence greeted him like an old friend.

Riven stepped forward first. He placed Aria down against the stone, watching as her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths.

Krux appeared from Riven's shadow and knelt beside her, his fingers tightening. "She's still alive."

Nyx appeared then and exhaled, rubbing her arms as if shaking off the remnants of the vault's lingering presence. "Barely."

Riven studied Aria's unconscious face. Even in her weakened state, there was something striking about her—something dangerous, even now.

A soft rustle echoed from the entrance.

Sana emerged, her blindfold in place, her mana shifting like mist around her. She tilted her head toward Aria, her mana-sense picking up the bound woman's presence instantly.

"She's been suffering for a long time." Her voice was quiet.

Riven's expression remained unreadable. "Can you wake her?"

Sana hesitated. "I can try. But the divine chains may have left more than just physical wounds."

Riven crouched, his abyssal flames crackling in his palm. He reached toward Aria's chest, letting the fire skim over her skin, testing the extent of her damage.

She barely reacted.

He exhaled sharply. "Wake her."

Sana nodded and knelt beside Aria, pressing her palm against the woman's forehead. A faint pulse of mana rippled outward, like a breath of wind brushing through the crypt. Even though Sana was now only an Undead Warrior, her power was still impressive.

The effect was immediate.

Aria's body jerked.

Her lips parted, a sharp inhale tearing through her throat as her fingers twitched. A tremor ran through her, her silver lashes fluttering before her eyes shot open.

They were a similar silver colour to her hair. But they were unfocused, hazy with the weight of centuries spent in darkness.

Her breath hitched.

Then—

Her body moved before her mind did.

Faster than anyone could react, her hand shot up, fingers curling around Riven's throat in a weak but vicious grip.

A spark of recognition flickered in her eyes.

Then, the confusion hit.

Her grip loosened.

"…Who…?" Her voice was hoarse, raw from disuse.

Riven didn't move, even as her trembling fingers hovered near his pulse. His abyssal flames flickered, but he let her process.

Aria's gaze swept over him.

Over the abyssal flames licking at his skin.

And then—

Her breath hitched.

"…Velmorian?"

The name left her lips in a whisper, filled with disbelief, with a kind of desperate hope that clawed its way into the air.

Silence stretched.

Then, Riven smiled.

It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind.

It was sharp. Dark. Absolute.

"No," he said simply. His voice was a quiet blade, cutting through the heavy air.

"I am not Velmorian."

Aria's fingers slipped from his throat.

Riven rose to his full height, his presence looming over her, pressing down like an unseen force against her frail form. In Aria's eyes, the world behind him wavered—one moment, they stood within the mausoleum, the next, the abyss yawned open behind him, vast and all-consuming. "But I am the Shadow King now."

Her expression twisted, her weakened body trembling. Emotions warred behind her eyes—recognition, grief, confusion.

And then, finally, she bowed her head.

"…My king."

Nyx grinned, the tension leaving her shoulders as she watched Aria fall into place.

Krux let out a slow breath, glancing at Riven.

"…What now?"

Riven's abyssal flames curled along his fingers, flickering like shadows given form. He produced the seven skill books he had taken from the vault and spread them out on a small table to the side of the chamber.

"See to Aria—bring her up to speed on everything she's missed," Riven ordered, his gaze fixed on the skill books laid out before him. "I'll be focusing on mastering these. No one comes near this place. If they do—deal with them. Quietly."

"Yes, my king," Krux and Nyx responded in unison before lifting Aria and guiding her into an adjoining chamber, leaving Riven in solitude.

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows over the tomes before him. He exhaled slowly, his fingers trailing over the aged covers before settling on the one they had sought from the very beginning. With deliberate precision, he picked it up, flipping through the worn pages.

[[ You have obtained a Skill Book! ]]

[[ Skill Book: Shadow Clone ]]

[[ Consume a steady flow of mana to create a flawless duplicate of yourself or a designated target. Can be enhanced to manifest stronger clones. ]]

Riven's eyes darkened as he read. Perfect.

He set the book aside and began to read through the other skills.

Riven sat alone in the flickering candlelight, the weight of the necromancy skill books before him pressing against his very soul. He exhaled, slow and measured, his abyssal flames curling idly at his fingertips.

Everything had changed.

The vault had burned. Velmorian's failures had been erased. And now, here he was, holding the remnants of the knowledge that had once been lost—knowledge that would shape his rise.

His fingers skimmed the ancient tomes, each one exuding a whisper of the past. These were not just spells. They were weapons. The final pieces he needed to cement his rule.

With a sharp inhale, he flipped the first book open.

[[ Skill Book: Shadow Clone ]]

[[ Consume a steady flow of mana to create a flawless duplicate of yourself or a designated target. Can be enhanced to manifest stronger clones. ]]

Riven smirked. A clone of myself… The applications were endless. He could deceive. He could overwhelm. He could be everywhere at once. Perfect.

Setting it aside, he reached for the next.

[[ Skill Book: Abyssal Nightmare ]]

[[ Inflict a nightmarish illusion upon a target, pulling them into a realm of their deepest fears. The strength and intensity of the nightmare are determined by the caster's mental fortitude and abyssal power. Weaker minds will be utterly consumed, unable to distinguish illusion from reality. Stronger opponents may resist, but prolonged exposure wears down even the most fortified minds. The effect can be amplified through direct physical contact. ]]

Rivens eyebrows shot up. What an incredibly useful skill! He could torment his enemies with just a simple touch.

The next book called to him, its aura thick with dark energy.

[[ Skill Book: Abyssal Requiem ]]

[[ Call upon the remnants of those who have perished, allowing them to manifest as wraiths bound to your will. The longer the spell is sustained, the more powerful the wraiths become. ]]

Riven's grin widened. So the souls of the dead are not wasted after all.

One by one, he scanned through them all:

[[ Skill Book: Phantom Step ]]

[[ A technique that allows the user to shift between shadows instantly, making them untouchable for a brief moment. Advanced users can extend this duration or move greater distances. ]]

[[ Skill Book: Death's Pact ]]

[[ Exchange a portion of your own vitality to temporarily amplify your necromantic abilities. A dangerous but rewarding gamble. ]]

And finally, the last book—a tome bound in thick, dark leather, pulsing with an eerie glow.

[[ Skill Book: Soulforge: King's Dominion ]]

[[ A necromancer's ultimate right—to forge contracts with the souls of the departed, binding them permanently to his service. Only the strongest souls can resist this claim. ]]

So he could finally even bound those who had been dead not only for a few minutes — but centuries.

Riven's fingers twitched as he traced the letters on the page. He could feel the weight of these skills—the sheer potential they carried. These weren't just the abilities of a necromancer.

They were the tools of a king.

A true king.

Slowly, he shut the last book.

He had much to learn.

He picked up the Shadow Clone book first, determining that was the most needed skill at the moment because it meant he could finally leave the academy without raising suspicion.

[[ You have obtained a Skill Book! ]]

[[ Skill Book: Shadow Clone ]]

[[ Consume a steady flow of mana to create a flawless duplicate of yourself or a designated target. Can be enhanced to manifest stronger clones. ]]

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

[[ Yes/No ]]

Riven clicked [Yes], and instantly, his body lifted off the ground. Shadows surged from the skill book, twisting around him like a web, their tendrils weaving between his limbs as if binding him to something unseen.

'System, initiate Created Space Training.'

He barely finished the thought before the knowledge from the skill book surged toward him like a tidal wave. Anticipating the onslaught of pain, he surrendered himself to the pull.

The world shattered.

Fragments of reality collapsed around him, falling away like broken glass, until he was left in the vast, infinite space of his training realm. The realm stretched outward, endless and consuming, its depths alive with pulsing energy.

[[ Created Space Training: Active ]]

[[ Learning acceleration enabled. Increasing adaptation speed… ]]

Riven exhaled, rolling his shoulders. "Let's see how this works."

The void around him trembled.

A deep rumble echoed from the shadows, vibrating through the air as the realm twisted, shifting into something darker. The ground beneath him cracked, black mist seeping through the fractures.

[[ Generating Opponent… ]]

The shadows in front of him flickered—writhing, distorting, until they began to take shape. A figure emerged, its form unstable at first, flinching as it fought for definition.

Then, with eerie fluidity, it solidified.

Riven's smirk sharpened.

"Well," he murmured, abyssal fire flickering to life in his palms. "I suppose that makes sense."

His opponent lifted its gaze, and Riven found himself staring into a pair of abyssal eyes—his own.

A perfect reflection.

A clone.

His grip tightened, flames licking at his fingertips. "What better way to master a skill that allows me to create a shadow of myself…"

The clone mirrored his stance, abyssal fire crackling in its hands, its smirk an exact match to his own.

This wasn't just a fight.

It was a test — one he had no intention of failing.

Riven stood still, his abyssal flames licking at his fingertips, casting a flickering eerie glow over his sharp features. The void stretched around him, silent and infinite. Only one thing stood before him.

Himself.

His shadow clone, summoned from the depths of the realm, stood motionless, abyssal fire curling around its body like a living entity. It was identical to him in every way—his stance, his smirk, the lethal glint in its abyssal eyes.

And then—

The clone moved.

It shot forward without hesitation, its speed blinding. Abyssal flames erupted around its arms, the heat warping the very air.

Riven barely had a moment to react.

He twisted his body, dodging the first strike as a fist coated in burning darkness grazed past his ribs. The force alone cracked the ground beneath him.

Fast.

His smirk widened. Good. The faster and stronger it is, the faster I learn.

The clone didn't pause. It was relentless—just as he himself would be.

Another strike. Then another.

Each attack was precise, powerful. Calculated.

Riven barely blocked, his arms absorbing the impact as his own abyssal fire clashed against its twin. Sparks danced in the air as the force of their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the training realm.

Fine.

If it wants to fight at full strength—

Riven welcomed it.

His Scorching Chain ignited in an instant.

Flaming links of abyssal fire shot from his palm, snaking through the air like a burning serpent, aiming to wrap around the clone's limbs.

The clone anticipated it.

It pivoted sharply, avoiding the first chain, but Riven was already adjusting. The second lash of his Scorching Chain snapped around its ankle, burning into its form with abyssal heat.

The clone faltered—only for a fraction of a second—but that was all he needed.

Riven moved.

Abyssal fire surged up his body as he activated Ember Cloak.

His speed doubled.

Power surged through his limbs as he dashed forward, his burning fist aimed straight for his clone's ribs.

The strike landed clean. A shockwave burst outward as the clone was sent flying, its body skidding across the battlefield, tearing up the ground beneath it.

But it wasn't done.

As soon as it crashed, it vanished.

Riven's eyes narrowed. Crimson Mirage.

A flickering afterimage was left in its wake.

"So it can use my illusion techniques, too." A smirk played at the corner of his lips. "Then let's see if it can keep up."

His abyssal fire surged again as he cast Crimson Mirage himself, his own form flickering—multiplying. Five Riven's now stood on the battlefield, all identical, all shifting in and out of reality.

The clone's eyes darted between them, scanning.

It wasn't fooled.

It lunged toward the correct Riven with pinpoint accuracy.

Expected.

Riven had already prepared.

Flames condensed in his palm, swirling into a compact, destructive sphere. The heat intensified, the air growing heavy.

A fiery explosion detonated between them. The shockwave sent the clone flying back again, the blast searing through the training realm. Smoke and embers filled the air as the ground cracked apart beneath them.

Still—

It didn't fall.

The clone emerged from the smoke, battered, scorched—but still standing.

Riven grinned. "Stubborn bastard."

The battlefield quaked beneath them as they clashed again, abyssal flames colliding in an explosion of raw power. Their strikes came in rapid succession—each one mirrored perfectly, a dance of precision and ferocity.

Every time Riven adapted, the clone did too. Every counter was met with another. Every strategy was undone before it could gain ground.

It wasn't just a reflection.

It was him.

His power. His instincts. His hunger.

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But Riven wasn't here to fight an equal.

He was here to dominate.

His abyssal flames surged, twisting around his arms as he lunged forward—fist crackling with infernal heat. He feinted left, forcing the clone to adjust, before twisting mid-air and striking right—his fist slamming into the clone's ribs.

The clone staggered.

Riven pressed forward.

Blackened chains burst from his hand, wrapping around the clone's arms and legs, locking it in place.

The clone struggled.

Riven tightened his grip.

"You're strong," he admitted, abyssal fire licking at his fingertips. "But I don't need an equal."

His flames flared brighter.

"I need a shadow that bends to me."

Riven's grin sharpened as he placed his fire-wreathed hand atop the clone's head. Abyssal flames coiled hungrily around his fingers, flickering like starving serpents.

"Devour."

The clone's body convulsed, its abyssal eyes widening in silent agony. No sound escaped its lips—only the crackling of flames as Riven's fire sank its fangs into its form. Shadows writhed and twisted, desperately resisting—only to be consumed, piece by piece.

The clone disintegrated, its body collapsing into blackened embers.

Then, with one final flicker, it was gone—leaving behind nothing but ash.

[[ Congratulations! You have now learned the Skill: Shadow Clone ]]

Riven exhaled as he prompted the system to return him to reality.

As the last traces of the shadowy web between him and the book faded, a presence stirred beside him. Nyx had been standing watch, silent but vigilant. The moment the dark tendrils dissipated, she stepped forward, steadying him as his feet met the cold stone floor once more.

"Congratulations, my king," Nyx murmured, her voice edged with quiet admiration.

Riven flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted to the lingering effects of the skill transfer. A dull stiffness clung to his muscles, but nothing he couldn't shake off. He lifted his hand before him, channeling his newly acquired power.

Darkness spilled forth from his palm, thick and fluid like ink.

The shadows pulsed—then took shape.

An exact replica of himself emerged from the swirling darkness, its form flickering before stabilizing into something eerily real. Every detail was perfect—from the cut of his clothing to the sharp curve of his smirk.

Krux let out a low whistle, stepping forward with open admiration. "You did it!" He circled the clone, his golden eyes gleaming as he took in every detail. "It's so real! Right down to the damn smirk—"

A sharp crack rang through the chamber.

Before anyone could react, Riven shot forward, his fist driving straight into the clone's stomach.

The clone's expression flickered, its mouth parting in silent shock before it shot backwards, slamming into the chamber wall with a dull thud. Dust trickled from the impact, but the copy barely had time to process what had happened before it began to unravel, its form dissolving back into shadow.

Riven shook out his hand, watching the last remnants of the clone flicker out of existence.

"Smug little bastard," he muttered.

A heavy silence filled the chamber.

Krux, still standing with his mouth slightly agape, slowly closed it, his brow furrowing.

Then, a voice—soft, yet disturbingly composed.

"A wise decision, my liege," Aria's voice drifted through the air. It was quiet, almost delicate. "It is always better to beat them into submission before they ever get the chance to fight back."

Riven turned his gaze to her, brow arching.

The words didn't match the softness of her voice, nor the deceptively fragile frame she now carried. There was something darker beneath her silver gaze—something cold.

A slow chuckle rumbled from his chest.

"I think we will get along just fine, Aria."