The Glitched Mage-Chapter 85: How’s your leg?

The world lurched.

A twisting sensation coiled through Riven's body, a pull so sudden and absolute that for a brief moment, his mind disconnected from reality. Then, with a rush of displaced air and the scent of damp earth, the teleportation completed.

He and Nyx materialized just beyond the outer gates of the Solis Kingdom.

The landscape around them was familiar—rolling hills blanketed in the dim hues of pre-dawn, the towering stone walls of the capital looming in the distance. The scent of damp stone and freshly cut grass filled the air, mingling with the faint trace of burnt mana left from the teleportation spell.

Nyx adjusted instantly, rolling her neck and stretching. "Smooth landing," she mused, adjusting her cloak. "I half-expected Mal to drop us in the middle of a swamp."

"Don't give him ideas," Riven muttered as he straightened his posture, scanning their surroundings.

They were positioned near a trade road leading directly to Solis's southern gates—a well-worn path often used by students, merchants, and researchers alike. It was the perfect place to blend in.

Nyx smirked. "You're sure this is going to work?"

"It has to," Riven replied. "If we act like we belong, they won't question us."

As he spoke, he adjusted the academy robes he wore, ensuring the embroidered insignia on his chest was clearly visible.

But just in case, he pulled up his hood, ensuring that the upper half of his face remained obscured.

Nyx did the same, pulling her hood low.

Together, they approached the city gates.

The outer gates of Solis were manned by heavily armored guards, their silver-plated uniforms gleaming beneath the torchlight. Even at this early hour, the city's entrance was a hive of activity—merchants were already lining up with carts, while scholars and noble envoys presented their documents for passage.

Riven and Nyx walked with purpose, blending seamlessly into the flow of students returning from field research.

As they neared the checkpoint, one of the guards—a tall man with a thick beard and an eagle-insignia crest on his shoulder—lifted a hand, stopping them.

"Academy business?" the guard asked, his tone formal but uninterested.

Riven nodded, shifting slightly to ensure his insignia was visible. "Field research," he said simply, his voice even. "We were given leave to study external mana sources."

The guard barely glanced at him before nodding. "You're late. Others returned last night."

"Extended observations," Nyx added smoothly, her voice light but firm.

The guard grunted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied them both. "Third-year?"

Riven nodded once. A lie.

The man exhaled, waving them through. "Don't cause trouble."

Just like that, they were inside.

The capital of Solis stretched before them, its wide streets and towering spires bathed in the soft hues of dawn. Even at this hour, the city never truly slept—guards patrolled the pathways, merchants set up their stalls, and students in Academy robes moved in small groups toward their morning lessons.

Nyx exhaled, her amusement evident. "That was almost too easy."

Riven smirked. "Technically, I am a student." He glanced at Nyx. "You, on the other hand…"

Nyx grinned. "Won't be able to say the same for long!"

Instead of heading toward the main gates of the Academy, they took a side path—one lined with ivy-covered walls and shadowed alleyways. This route led them toward a partially collapsed section of the outer wall, the very one they had used to escape months ago.

Riven ran a hand over the cracks, inspecting the damage. No repairs had been made—it seemed the Academy still hadn't discovered it.

Nyx gave him a pointed look. "After you, my king."

He rolled his eyes before slipping through the gap, the damp stone brushing against his academy cloak. The cool night air clung to him as he moved swiftly, his footsteps soundless against the worn path.

The moment Nyx stepped through behind him, she pressed a hand to her chest. Her form wavered, dark tendrils curling around her body before she melted seamlessly into shadow. In an instant, she vanished—her essence retreating into Riven's own, merging with the darkness beneath his feet.

The weight of her presence added to the strain already weighing on his mana reserves, but he pushed forward without hesitation.

There was no time to rest.

By now, navigating the Academy grounds without drawing attention was second nature to Riven. His boots moved soundlessly over the polished stone as he entered the library, effortlessly ascending the steps to the second floor, where the secluded training rooms—and his shadow clone—awaited.

Riven exhaled as he scanned his talisman and stepped into the training room, allowing the heavy wooden door to shut behind him with a soft click. The air inside was thick with lingering mana, the faint hum of enchantments woven into the very walls ensuring that no sound would escape beyond these chambers.

His shadow clone stood near the far wall, arms crossed, wearing the same smug expression Riven himself often did. "You actually came back," the clone drawled, tilting its head. "For a while there, I thought you had finally decided to rule your little kingdom instead of playing student."

Riven barely spared it a glance before raising his hand. Shadows curled from his fingertips, abyssal energy surging as he severed the connection.

The clone's smirk remained even as its body unraveled into wisps of darkness. "Try not to die out there—" it murmured before dissolving completely.

The moment the tether was severed, a noticeable weight lifted from Riven's mind. The constant drain of sustaining his shadow clone vanished, easing some of the pressure on his mana reserves. Though the strain of maintaining his twenty undead warriors back in the Shadow Kingdom remained, the relief was tangible—it wasn't much, but it was enough.

Sana remained silent near the center of the room, blindfolded but as perceptive as ever. "Your return was well-timed, Master," she said, her tone measured. "The rumors have reached their peak."

Riven's expression didn't shift. "What are they saying?"

Sana clasped her hands behind her back. "Many believe you've been hiding since the royal summons," she said. "They assume you're afraid. That you lost favor with the King and have been avoiding the public eye out of shame."

Riven scoffed. "Predictable."

"They also believe," she continued, tilting her head, "that your strength has deteriorated. No one has seen you fight since your last duel. You have issued no challenges, taken no missions, participated in no training. Some whisper that the King found you lacking… that you were never as powerful as they once believed."

A slow smirk tugged at the corner of Riven's lips. "Good."

Sana hesitated. "You wanted them to believe this?"

His eyes gleamed. "Of course."

Perception was everything in the Academy. If people believed he had fallen, they would underestimate him. And that would make their eventual realization all the more satisfying.

A ripple of darkness coiled beneath Riven's feet, shadows twisting unnaturally before stretching upward. Within seconds, Nyx emerged, her form seamlessly materializing beside him as if she had always been there.

Her dark eyes gleamed with amusement. "You're actually enjoying this."

Riven shot her a sideways glance, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Nyx arched an eyebrow, but didn't push. Instead, she turned to Sana, who remained unfazed by her sudden appearance.

Sana inclined her head slightly, as if sensing the shift in their dynamic. "Her documents are prepared."

Sana turned smoothly, retrieving a neatly folded Academy uniform and an enchanted talisman from a nearby table. She set them before Riven and Nyx with precise movements. "Nyx Draviel. Second-year student. Field of study: Tactical Combat and Strategy."

Riven arched an eyebrow. "Draviel?"

Sana inclined her head. "It's the name of an old noble house that I managed to find from old records."

Nyx snorted, lifting the uniform with a scrutinizing gaze. "Well, at least they have some taste."

Riven gave her a pointed look. "Hurry up."

With an exaggerated sigh, Nyx disappeared into a side chamber, and within minutes, she reemerged, adjusting the soft black robes and fastening the talisman around her wrist. The fabric fit well, the Academy insignia stitched elegantly over the left breast.

Nyx spun once with a smirk. "Do I look like an innocent, hardworking student?"

Riven gave her a flat look. "You look like trouble."

Nyx grinned. "Perfect."

With her disguise secured, there was nothing left to delay them. They slipped out of the training room, merging seamlessly into the academy corridors. The quiet hum of activity had already begun—the morning rush of students filtering toward their respective classes, instructors overseeing study groups, and the occasional noble-born laughing a little too loudly in self-importance.

It didn't take long for the whispers to begin.

The moment they passed through the second-year marketplace district, the weight of unspoken words settled around them like a thick fog.

"He's back?"

"I thought he was hiding."

"So the King really did abandon him…"

Riven kept his expression carefully neutral, walking with the same effortless confidence he always had. Nyx, beside him, barely contained her amusement at the murmurs trailing in their wake.

The deeper they went, the more incredulous the whispers became.

"He's actually showing up for the duel?"

"I thought he'd forfeit."

"Guess he has a death wish."

Nyx tilted her head slightly in Riven's direction. 'So they really think you've grown weak?'

'They're about to find out otherwise,' Riven mused, his smirk barely visible.

The murmurs hit a fever pitch when they finally approached the training grounds. A sizable crowd had gathered around the dueling platform, eager to witness the supposed downfall of the once-feared student.

And at the center of it all stood a familiar figure.

Cole Drakar.

Riven's half-brother.

The moment he laid eyes on him, something cold and ancient settled in Riven's chest.

Cole stood tall, his stance exuding effortless authority. He was dressed in elite combat robes, the insignia of the Drakar family embroidered in red thread.

Their eyes met briefly. Cole smirked.

"Well, well," he mused, arms crossed. "You actually showed up."

The crowd went silent, all eyes flicking between the two brothers.

Riven's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

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"I wouldn't miss it."

The training grounds was thick with anticipation, the weight of countless eyes pressing down on the two brothers. The murmurs had died down, replaced by an expectant silence as Cole and Riven made their way to the dueling platform.

Cole's smirk widened, his dark red eyes gleaming with confidence. "You've been hiding for a while now, little brother. I was beginning to think you'd never crawl out of whatever hole you've been licking your wounds in."

Riven chuckled, tilting his head. "Hiding? No, I've been training, brother." His smirk widened. "Though I am surprised you challenged me—considering the last time we fought, you were the one left beaten and bloody.

Cole's expression darkened for the briefest of moments—so quick that only someone who knew him as well as Riven did would have caught it. The humiliation from their last fight, the sheer, undeniable defeat—he hadn't forgotten.

Riven's smirk deepened. "I wonder, has your leg healed yet?"

A few gasps rippled through the audience.

Cole exhaled slowly through his nose, schooling his expression back into something more composed. "That was before."

His mana flared.

A powerful surge of fire magic burst from his body, the sheer intensity of it warping the air around him. The heat was oppressive, searing against the stone platform beneath their feet.

Riven's eyes gleamed as he felt the shift.

Cole wasn't bluffing, he had gotten stronger.

Cole cracked his knuckles, the fire mana around him coiling like a living thing. "While you've been playing ghost, I've been training," he said, voice laced with condescension. "The Riven I fought before—he was barely worth my time. But you? The version standing in front of me now?" He scoffed. "You're even weaker than before."

More whispers spread through the crowd. Some students were nodding along, their expressions shifting into something more expectant.

"He's right," one muttered. "Riven hasn't done anything in months."

"I heard he even ran away from the royal summons," another whispered. "Guess the King really did throw him aside."

A slow smirk curled Cole's lips as he saw the way the narrative was playing in his favor. "I should thank you," he said, his fire mana pulsing stronger. "Because now, I get to put you back in your place. In front of everyone."

Riven sighed, cracking his neck. "You talk too much."

Cole's expression twisted into a sneer. "We'll see if you can still talk after I burn you to ash."

The overseeing elder stepped forward, raising a hand. "Both duelists—prepare yourselves."

The barrier around the dueling platform shimmered into place, golden runes igniting across its surface. The elders had reinforced the containment field more than usual—either they were being cautious, or they had been warned about the intensity of this fight.

Riven didn't care.

He rolled his shoulders, letting his abyssal fire simmer beneath the surface. His shadows pulsed, eager, restless.

Cole took his stance, his smirk unwavering. "Let's see if you've learned anything at all."

The elder's voice rang out clear and sharp.

"Begin."