The Glitched Mage-Chapter 58: The Archmage’s Inquiry

The air between them was thick with unspoken tension. Riven followed Archmage Elara through the training grounds, leaving behind the still-buzzing crowd. Every step felt like it carried weight, but he kept his expression neutral, his hands slipping into his pockets as if he weren't being personally escorted by one of the most powerful figures in the academy.

Elara didn't speak immediately, her violet robes billowing behind her as she moved with purpose. She led him away from the open areas, past towering structures and quiet hallways, until finally, they arrived at an isolated courtyard deep within the academy grounds.

A soft breeze rustled the leaves of the trees lining the space, their faint glow casting a gentle light over the cobblestone path. It was peaceful—an eerie contrast to the battle that had just taken place.

Elara finally stopped, turning to face him.

"You never cease to surprise, Riven." Her voice was smooth, composed, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath the surface. "Black flames with the ability to devour mana as if it were nothing. Can you explain that to me?"

Riven let a smirk tug at his lips, his abyssal flames flickering over his knuckles like restless shadows. "I thought you said it yourself—they're just fire."

Elara didn't look amused. Her violet eyes sharpened, scrutinizing every flicker of expression that crossed his face. "You're already under watch because of that necromancy skill." Her voice was calm, but there was weight behind it, a warning wrapped in silk. "I'm sure you've been told to keep a low profile, to avoid drawing unnecessary suspicion. And yet, you go out of your way to showcase these flames?"

A soft glow pulsed in her irises, the faint hum of mana gathering around her as she continued. Then, she spoke again, and her words hit harder than any spell.

"You might as well stand in the center of the academy and announce that you're a necromancer."

The courtyard fell silent. The wind rustled the leaves, but neither of them moved.

Riven's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew more insufferable. He shrugged, the picture of casual indifference. "I have no idea what you're talking about." His tone was equal parts smug and lazy, like he couldn't be bothered with the conversation at all. "I only use fire mana. You know the necromancy book was forced onto me in the third trial."

Elara didn't react immediately. She only tilted her head slightly, and for some reason, that was more unsettling than if she had called his bluff outright.

"Riven," she said at last, her voice soft, but sharp enough to cut through steel. "Do you really think that I, an Archmage of this academy, wouldn't recognize Abyssal flames when I see them?"

His smirk faltered—just slightly.

She noticed.

"Elder Thorne reported it to me the moment he recognized them," she continued, arms crossing over her chest. "Your flames aren't just unusual. They're dangerous. And you know it."

Riven exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. "That old fossil doesn't know what he's talking about."

Elara raised an eyebrow.

"Fine, fine!" He scowled, throwing up a hand in mock surrender. "Even though I haven't used the necromancy skill, it's still screwing with my mana. That's why my flames are—whatever the hell they are now." He rolled his shoulders, his expression shifting to something more nonchalant. "It made my fire stronger, so what's the harm in it?"

A perfect lie. Smooth, effortless.

Elara watched him for a long moment, unreadable.

Then, to his surprise—she smirked.

"I see," she murmured.

But something in her gaze told him that she wasn't fooled. Not for a second.

Elara's smirk lingered, but her eyes held something deeper—calculated amusement, sharp enough to carve through the space between them. She let the silence stretch, watching him like a puzzle she had almost, but not quite, solved.

Riven said nothing, letting the moment hang. He wasn't foolish enough to fill the quiet with unnecessary words.

Finally, she exhaled, tilting her head slightly. "You know," she mused, "for someone who claims to have no idea what I'm talking about, you're rather quick to defend yourself."

Riven merely grinned. "I like to be thorough."

Elara chuckled—a soft, knowing sound. "And I like to be informed." Her fingers twitched slightly, and in an instant, a sigil of deep violet light formed between them. Ancient, intricate runes spun in a slow, deliberate orbit.

Riven's instincts tensed.

He recognized that kind of spellwork—it wasn't an attack, but something more insidious. A truth-binding spell. A method high-ranking mages used to extract answers without forcing compliance outright.

His expression didn't change, but deep down, he was already preparing countermeasures.

Elara's gaze flicked to him, catching the briefest flicker of tension in his posture.

Interesting.

The sigil pulsed once before fading.

She hadn't activated it.

Riven raised an eyebrow. "That was dramatic."

Elara smiled, but there was something else there—an unspoken test, a quiet challenge. "I wanted to see how you'd react." She let her arms fall to her sides, stepping closer, though there was no hostility in her movement. "Relax, Riven. If I wanted to force the truth from you, I would have done so already."

He held his ground, unmoving. "Then why drag me here? If all you wanted was to ask me questions, you could've done that back at the training grounds."

Elara hummed, considering. "Because I don't trust public settings for conversations like this," she admitted. "And because, despite how much you pretend otherwise, I think you already know why I'm concerned."

Riven gave a half-shrug. "I can take a guess."

She studied him for another moment, then sighed. "I don't intend to paint a target on your back, Riven. But you are making things… difficult."

"I'd argue I make things interesting."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, no doubt." Then, her expression shifted into something more serious. "But interesting isn't always safe."

For the first time since the conversation began, something in her voice wavered—not weakness, but something like genuine concern. Not just for the academy, but for him.

That surprised him, considering she was the same person who had once offered to chain him to the king like a dog on a leash.

"Listen to me," she continued. "You've already gained attention. Not just from me. Not just from the elders. There are others watching. And they aren't as patient as I am."

Riven's smirk hardened slightly, but he already knew who it was. "Who?"

Elara didn't answer immediately. Instead, she extended her hand.

For a moment, he thought she was offering some kind of pact.

Then, shadows swirled in her palm, forming a single, rolled parchment.

A summons.

Riven frowned. "What's this?"

"A royal summons," Elara stated plainly. "One I suggest you take very seriously."

Riven reached for the parchment but hesitated just before his fingers made contact. His gaze flicked up to meet hers. "And if I choose not to go?"

Elara's smirk deepened, but this time, there was an edge to it—something cold, something final. "Then I'd be terribly saddened to see my student meet such a tragic end."

Riven exhaled sharply before snatching the scroll from her grasp. The message was clear. If he ignored the summons, he wouldn't live to regret it.

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Bastards.

"Is that all?" he asked, irritation bleeding into his voice. "Or do you have more cryptic warnings to throw at me?"

Elara merely chuckled, stepping back and folding her arms. Amusement danced in her violet eyes. "That's all. You have tomorrow to prepare. Then, on Friday, you will attend the royal summons with me." Her smirk widened. "Don't be late."

Riven didn't bother responding. He merely scoffed, turning on his heel and striding away, the summons clutched tightly in his grip.

As he passed through the quiet courtyard, his voice was little more than a mutter under his breath.

"Old hag."

—x—

Riven strode through the academy's dimly lit pathways, the royal summons clutched tightly in his grip. He wasn't foolish enough to walk into this unprepared. Whatever justification they gave for summoning him, it was nothing more than a thinly veiled trial—a test of control. The king wanted him leashed, and Riven had no intention of being anyone's pawn.

If they were going to force his hand, then he would make sure it was on his terms.

By Friday, he would know exactly who held the strings in this game. And more importantly, how to cut them.

And for that, he needed his people.

By the time he reached the mausoleum, the air had shifted, thick with dark mana. The torches lining the underground walls flickered with eerie blue flames, responding to his presence. The stone chambers remained cold, the scent of age and death lingering in the dim corridors.

His three generals—Nyx, Krux, and Aria—stood waiting in the central chamber, Sana lingering at the entrance like a wraith in the dark.

The moment he entered, Nyx's golden eyes flickered with curiosity. "You're back earlier than I expected," she said, stepping forward. "And looking more irritated than usual."

Krux smirked. "Let me guess—someone pissed you off."

Aria simply tilted her head, arms crossed as she studied him. "What happened?"

Riven exhaled sharply, tossing the scroll onto the nearby stone table. "A royal summons."

The atmosphere in the mausoleum thickened as the implications of the summons settled over them. The torches along the walls flickered with an unnatural intensity, responding to the pulse of abyssal energy in the chamber.

Nyx crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing. "So the Solis King is making his move."

Riven exhaled through his nose, fingers drumming against the edge of the table. "Not just him. This isn't a simple summons—it's a test. They want to see if I'll kneel, if I can be controlled." His voice dropped slightly, a dangerous edge creeping in. "And if not, they'll have contingencies."

Aria's silver gaze darkened. "Binding magic."

Riven's fingers curled into a fist. "Most likely." He had overheard the king before, speaking to his closest circle about leashing him like a dog. A binding spell—one that would strip him of his own free will, ensuring that his life was tied to the throne. If the spell was placed, the king could kill him on a whim.

"I need leverage," Riven continued, his tone even but sharp. "This summons isn't just about me—it's about control. If they think they can keep me in check, they'll try to put me in a corner. I won't give them the chance."

Nyx's lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer. "You want us to find out who has the real power in this gathering."

Riven nodded. "Exactly. I need names. The main ones attending, the ones with the authority to tip the balance. If they have disputes, ambitions, weaknesses—I want to know everything."

Krux cracked his knuckles, a grin stretching across his face. "So, we're digging up dirt."

"Not just dirt." Aria's voice was smooth, controlled. "We're setting the stage."

Nyx leaned forward, resting her hands on the table. "I'll handle the noble factions. If they're using you for something bigger, then the power shifts among them will tell me why."

Krux stretched lazily. "I'll hit the underground networks. There's always someone willing to talk for the right price—or persuasion."

Aria's silver eyes glowed faintly. "I'll go straight to the palace district and see if I can find out any info there."

Riven then turned to Sana, who had remained silent, her blindfolded gaze unreadable. "And you?"

Sana tilted her head, as if listening to something beyond the room. "I will head back to the library and listen to the what the acolytes whisper."

Riven smirked. "Good."

With that, his generals dispersed, each fading into the shadows, slipping into the night with their respective tasks.

Now, onto his own preparations.

Riven moved through the dimly lit streets of the market district, ignoring the lingering whispers and glances sent his way. His name had spread far too quickly after his duel with Cedric—too many eyes were on him.

Good. Let them watch.

He slipped into an alchemy shop tucked between two grander establishments. The scent of burning incense and raw mana greeted him as he stepped inside, shelves stacked with shimmering potions and enchanted artifacts.

The shopkeeper, an older man with keen eyes, looked up from behind the counter. "Welcome."

Riven placed a pouch of mana beast cores onto the counter. "High-grade mana potions. Ten."

The shopkeeper chuckled, weighing the mana cores in his palm. "It's always the newcomers who have the deepest pockets."

Riven didn't respond, simply watching as the man pulled out a set of crystal vials filled with liquid that shimmered like molten sapphire.

"These are the best you'll find," the shopkeeper said, sliding them across the counter.

Riven took them without hesitation, storing them in his inventory. "Pleasure doing business."

And with that, he left, his mind already on his next destination.

—x—

Riven strode into the navigation hall, his gaze briefly flicking over the glowing sigils marking the various teleportation gates. Without hesitation, he scanned his talisman at the entrance labeled "Fire-Dense Mana Island" and stepped through.

The change was immediate.

The air pressed down on him, thick with raw, unrestrained mana.

Then came the heat.

Not just warmth, but an all-consuming, suffocating blaze that wrapped around him like a living thing, seeping into his very bones.

Riven stepped onto solid ground, the air thick with embers and shifting mana. The sky above was stained in hues of molten orange, swirling with flickering sparks. Lava rivers twisted through the landscape like glowing veins, feeding into great fissures of burning rock.

The island thrived in destruction.

Riven took a slow breath, feeling the fire mana pulse around him, seeping into his skin. His abyssal flames flickered in response, curling around his fingers like sentient shadows.

Perfect.

The ground beneath him cracked as he stepped forward, the island reacting to his presence. The mana here was dense, wild. Normal flames twisted unnaturally, bending toward him as if recognizing something familiar.

Riven exhaled slowly, his body already adjusting to the overwhelming presence of fire mana in the air. Every breath he took was infused with raw energy, scorching yet invigorating. The sheer density of fire mana here was unlike anything he had experienced before.

A perfect place to grow stronger.

He reached into his inventory, pulling out one of the high-grade mana potions. The liquid shimmered like gold-flecked blood under the island's unnatural light. Without hesitation, he uncorked it and drank.

A surge of mana flooded his veins, hot and powerful.

[[ Absorbing Mana: (+40%) ]]

[[ 1%… ]]

[[ 2%… ]]

Riven sat down, crossing his legs as he activated meditation mode. The abyssal flames within him flickered, stretching outward like hungry tendrils, eager to consume the raw mana surrounding him.

His system adjusted instantly.

[[ Fire-Dense Environment Detected: Mana Absorption Rate Increased ]]

[[ Additional Bonus: Abyssal Flames Adaptation +15% Efficiency ]]

[[ 10%… 12%… 15%… ]]

The heat of the island intensified, but Riven barely noticed. He let his body relax, drawing the mana into himself. The flames within him pulsed, his mana heart expanding, his reserves deepening with every passing second.

But he needed more.

Reaching into his inventory, he withdrew the Staff of Ignis.

The moment his fingers curled around the broken artifact, it trembled in his grasp, reacting to the overwhelming fire mana in the air. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through his bones as the ancient staff greedily pulled in mana from its surroundings.

[[ Item: Staff of Ignis (Rank: Legendary) ]]

[[ (Broken) (Repair 0 of 3) ]]

[[ Effect Activated: Fire Mana Surge Detected – Passive Repair Initiated ]]

The fractured runes along the staff's surface flickered with dull crimson light, like embers struggling to reignite.

A grin curled at Riven's lips. "So you still have some life in you."

[[ Effect Activated: +25% Mana Absorption ]]

He gripped the staff tightly, pressing its base into the scorched earth. The moment it made contact, the ground pulsed, veins of molten energy surging toward him in jagged, erratic patterns.

[[ 20%… 24%… 30%… ]]

The fire mana swirled violently, responding not only to him but to the artifact itself. The staff drank deeply, drawing power directly from the island's core.

Crack.

A sudden, sharp noise echoed through the air.

Riven's eyes snapped open.

The staff in his hands pulsed, a single fracture repairing itself, the broken engravings glowing momentarily before dimming.

[[ Staff of Ignis: Repair Progress (1/3) ]]

His grip tightened. It wasn't fully restored yet, but this proved something—this island was exactly what he needed.

With his mana still surging, he reached for another mana potion, downing it without hesitation.

[[ 40%… 45%… 50%… ]]

The more he absorbed, the stronger his reserves became. The king wanted to put him in chains? Let them try. By the time this summons came, he would be on an entirely different level.

The air around him wavered from the intensity of his abyssal flames, and the very ground beneath him cracked apart, unable to withstand the sheer force of his growing power.

Riven continued his meditation, letting the mana flood into his mana heart. His abyssal flames pulsed in rhythm with his breathing, swirling around him like living shadows, hungrily devouring the fire mana saturating the air.

[[ 60%… 65%… 70%… ]]

The more he absorbed, the heavier the island's pressure became. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out, the fire mana seeping into his very bones, stretching his reserves to their limits.

His fingers tightened around the Staff of Ignis, the artifact vibrating in his grasp, drinking in the mana at a terrifying rate. The crimson engravings pulsed brighter, greedily siphoning power straight from the island's core.

Crack.

Another fracture along the staff's surface mended itself, molten energy surging through the artifact like veins of liquid fire.

[[ Staff of Ignis: Repair Progress (2/3) ]]

Riven exhaled sharply, his vision swimming for a moment.

Too much.

The staff had consumed more of the ambient mana than he had anticipated. It wasn't just restoring itself—it was stealing from his absorption rate.

His system adjusted accordingly.

[[ Mana Absorption Rate Reduced (Staff of Ignis Interference) ]]

[[ 75%… 78%… 80%… ]]

Then, the notification changed.

[[ Skill Unlocked: Dragon Eyes (Passive Skill) ]]

A sudden shift in his vision hit him like a tidal wave.

The world around him shifted, no longer bound by normal perception. His surroundings burned with heat signatures, glowing specters of raw temperature layered over reality. He could see the flow of mana in the air, the twisting paths of heat that wove through the landscape like invisible rivers.

Even the flames around him—his own abyssal fire—had a shape beyond what normal eyes could perceive.

Riven blinked.

The entire island was alive in ways he had never noticed before.

Molten veins pulsed beneath the ground, currents of fire mana twisting in complex patterns. Tiny creatures—elemental wisps, barely visible to the naked eye—floated within the embers, moving through the currents of heat like fish in water.

And beyond that—shadows.

Not just heat, but the absence of it.

Something—or someone—was watching him.

A flicker of cold in a place where only fire should exist.

Riven didn't react immediately. His expression remained impassive, his breathing steady as if nothing had changed.

But internally?

His mind was already racing.

Something else was here. Something that did not belong.

And now, thanks to his newly awakened Dragon Eyes, he could see it.

A slow smirk formed at the corner of his lips.

Interesting.

Let's see who was foolish enough to stalk him here.