The Glitched Mage-Chapter 65: The Departure Begins

Rumors spread like wildfire around the academy after the royal summons.

Whispers filled the corridors, speculation twisting into wild tales—some claimed Riven had barely escaped execution, others insisted he had been marked by the King himself, cursed to be watched until the day he slipped up. A few dared to say he had challenged the King outright and survived, though those who truly understood politics knew such a thing was impossible.

But among the more sinister whispers, a new rumor began to take root—one far darker, far more dangerous.

They said Riven was truly a necromancer.

That his fire was not fire at all, but something unnatural. That he had deceived the King, tricked the court, and that he was the one that was leading the undead to attack the kingdom.

Fear spread with each retelling, with each exaggerated account of black flames and whispered power. Students who once spoke freely in his presence now hesitated. Some avoided his gaze entirely.

A few even flinched when he walked past.

Riven noticed.

He did not acknowledge it, did not seek to correct them. He let the fear settle, let it take root, let it become something greater than truth.

Fear was a powerful thing.

And it would serve him well.

Through it all, he moved with the same calculated ease he always did. He answered no questions, entertained no gossip, and let the mystery thicken around him.

Because soon, he would be gone.

And when the truth was finally revealed, it would already be too late.

—x—

Late at night, under the solemn hush of the academy's grand library, Riven stood before Sana—the acolyte who had become his first undead warrior.

"You understand your role?" he asked, voice low.

Sana, cloaked in the deep gray of her order, nodded, her gaze steady under the blindfold, despite the weight of the task he was leaving her with. "I will remain here," she confirmed. "Maintain appearances. Gather what knowledge I can and oversee your shadow clone. If anything changes, you will know."

Riven studied Sana carefully, ensuring she understood the weight of her task. This wasn't just about maintaining an illusion—it was about securing his escape and ensuring no one suspected a thing. If anyone realized he was missing before his preparations were complete, it could unravel everything.

"You are the only one who will interact with the shadow clone," Riven instructed, his voice low but firm. "No one else. Not the instructors, not the students. If they ask why I'm keeping to myself, you'll say I've been preoccupied with training."

Sana nodded, her posture unwavering. "And if someone grows too suspicious?"

"Divert them," Riven said smoothly. "You are still an acolyte of the library. Use that authority to keep people at a distance. If necessary, plant rumors—suggest that I am seeking rare tomes, that my magic has become unstable, that I require solitude to control it." He smirked. "People already fear me. Let them make their own excuses."

Sana tilted her head slightly, as if considering his words from every possible angle. "And if someone directly challenges the clone?"

Riven exhaled slowly. That was the true risk. His shadow clone was incredibly advanced—almost indistinguishable from the real him in both mannerisms and energy signature—but they had limits. Prolonged combat or any situation that required independent thought would drain Riven's mana and the clone would cease to exist.

"If it comes to that," he said, "delay them. Stall for as long as you can and inform me immediately." His fingers curled slightly, the abyssal flames flickering to life at his fingertips. "If I need to return to maintain the illusion, I will. But only if absolutely necessary."

Sana nodded again, the blindfold concealing any hint of hesitation. "Understood, Master."

Riven studied her a moment longer, then finally exhaled. She was reliable. Unwavering. And most importantly—loyal.

With one last glance at the vast, dimly lit library around them, he turned on his heel. "Then we begin."

He raised his hand, and the darkness coiled around his palm, stretching outward like a living thing. Shadows rippled across the stone floor as his abyssal energy surged, coalescing into a perfect replica of himself—down to the last detail.

The clone blinked, stretching its fingers as if testing its own existence. Then, with an infuriatingly lazy smirk, it flicked its gaze toward Riven.

"Took you long enough," the clone drawled, rolling its shoulders. "I was starting to think you were getting sentimental."

Riven's expression remained blank. "You know your role."

The clone smirked. "Of course I do. Sit in the training hall, look intimidating, throw around some fire if needed, and occasionally glare at people so they think you're brooding. Easy."

Sana remained quiet, but Riven could sense the faintest trace of amusement in her aura.

He exhaled sharply. "Just don't speak more than necessary. The last thing I need is my own clone being too charismatic."

The clone snickered but gave a lazy salute. "Fine, fine. I'll keep my stunning personality to myself."

Riven rolled his eyes before turning back to Sana. "Ensure he stays in character."

She nodded. "It will be done."

With that final confirmation, Riven stepped back into the shadows. The weight of his plan settled over him—not as doubt, but as certainty.

—x—

Nyx, Krux, and Aria were waiting for him at the rendezvous point beyond the walls. But first, he needed to make his exit clean.

Riven retraced his steps from the other night, his boots moving soundlessly over the worn path until he reached the crumbling section of the academy's outer wall.

He paused.

A strange weight settled in his bones as he stared at the fractured stone. Once he passed through, there would be no turning back—not for a while.

Since awakening in this world, his life had been confined to two places: House Drakar and the Academy. Walls had always surrounded him, whether physical or invisible, shaping the limits of his existence. But now… those limits no longer applied.

Beyond this broken wall lay something new. A world untouched. A future unwritten. A kingdom waiting to be reclaimed.

Riven exhaled, taking one last look towards the academy. Then, with quiet finality, he stepped through the gap.

The moment he emerged, he was met with the familiar scent of damp earth and the cool night air of the nearby forest.

Nyx was the first to spot him, perched on a low-hanging branch, her sharp eyes flickering with amusement. "Took you long enough."

Krux, leaning lazily against a tree, grinned. "Thought you got caught for a second."

Aria, ever composed, merely gave him a once-over before nodding. "No complications?"

"None," Riven confirmed, dusting off his robes. "The clone is in place, and Sana will ensure no one notices my absence."

Nyx smirked. "So we're really doing this."

Riven's lips curled into a slow smile. "Yes. It's time."

Krux stretched, cracking his knuckles. "Finally. No more sneaking around halls filled with self-important nobles. I was getting bored."

Aria adjusted the straps on her satchel, her expression thoughtful. "We'll need to move quickly. The sooner we reach the remnants of the Shadow Kingdom, the better."

Riven nodded. Their journey was just beginning.

Beyond the capital, past the vast stretches of untamed wilderness, lay the ruins of a once-mighty nation. A kingdom swallowed by history, forgotten by time.

But after Riven reclaimed his throne once more, none shall ever forget it again.

—x—

The outskirts of the capital were quiet at this hour, the streets near empty save for a few weary travelers and merchants preparing for the morning market. The deeper into the outskirts they went, the less refined the roads became—cobblestone giving way to packed dirt, elegant lanterns replaced by dim torches flickering against the cold wind.

Riven's group moved with purpose, keeping to the shadows where necessary, yet never appearing as if they were sneaking. Suspicion was drawn to those who acted as if they didn't belong. Instead, they walked with the ease of seasoned travelers, blending into the quiet hum of the city's edge.

A small stable came into view, nestled between a rundown tavern and an old trading post. It wasn't the grand establishments that serviced noble houses, nor the well-guarded posts that supplied the royal cavalry. This was a place for those who wanted speed over papers, for those who didn't want their transactions recorded.

Exactly what they needed.

Riven approached first, his steps slow, measured. A single stable hand—an older man with weathered skin and a sharp, calculating gaze—leaned against one of the wooden posts, his arms crossed as if he had been expecting them.

"You don't look like the usual sort that comes 'round here," the man mused, glancing over the group. "And you don't have the look of someone who'd be bringing back what he borrows."

Riven smirked slightly, reaching into his inventory and pulling out a small pouch. It hit the man's palm with a satisfying clink—not the hollow weight of coppers, but the heavy weight of pure gold.

The stable hand weighed it carefully in his palm before peering inside, his eyes narrowing. He exhaled through his nose, clearly pleased.

"I take it you need more than one."

"Four," Riven said smoothly. "Fast. Sturdy."

The man studied him for a moment longer before jerking his head toward the stables. "Follow me."

Inside, the scent of hay and damp wood lingered in the air. Rows of stalls lined the interior, filled with various breeds—some lean and built for speed, others strong and meant for long-haul endurance. The stable hand led them toward a set of well-bred warhorses—clearly taken from old cavalry units or stolen from noble stables.

"These'll take you far, provided you don't run them into the ground," the man said. "Tack and saddlebags are included in the price."

"Good," Riven said, passing him another smaller pouch—enough to ensure the man didn't mention their faces should anyone come asking.

The stable hand grinned, pocketing the gold. "Pleasure doing business."

Riven and the others wasted no time saddling their mounts. Nyx ran her fingers along the mane of a sleek black stallion, grinning. "Not bad."

Krux, already atop his own mount, snorted. "As long as it doesn't throw me off, I don't care."

Aria mounted gracefully, adjusting the strap on her satchel. "We should move. The longer we linger, the higher the risk."

Riven swung himself onto his own horse, taking the reins with ease. The others followed suit, and within moments, they were already moving.

The city gates loomed ahead.

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Even at this hour, the guards stood vigilant, but the academy's insignia embroidered on Riven's cloak ensured that they wouldn't be stopped. To the soldiers, they were nothing more than third year students heading out for practical fieldwork—a common enough occurrence.

The guards barely gave them a second glance as they passed.

And just like that, the city was behind them.

The open road stretched ahead, winding through rolling hills and thick forests, illuminated only by the pale glow of the moon. The city's towering walls faded into the distance, swallowed by the night.

Riven exhaled, his grip on the reins tightening briefly. The unfamiliar strain in his legs reminded him that he was still adjusting to the saddle, his muscles already protesting. But as the wind rushed past him, tousling his hair and carrying the crisp scent of the open road, a rare feeling settled in his chest.

Freedom.

For the first time, he was truly free.