The Glitched Mage

The Training Grounds loomed ahead, humming with mana and the crackling energy of ongoing duels. As Riven and Nyx stepped through the bustling crowd, students instinctively moved aside, their gazes lingering.

They had heard the rumors. They had seen his name rise before.

And now, he was back.

The air buzzed with whispered conversations. Some voices were filled with eager anticipation, while others were edged with uncertainty. Riven's return from the mana-dense island had not escaped attention. Those around him could almost feel the surge of power radiating from him, a stark reminder of how much stronger he had become since his last appearance.

The Power Chart Monolith stood like an unshakable pillar of authority, its glowing inscriptions shifting as ranks were updated in real time. Students had gathered around it, observing challenges and victories unfold. But when Riven approached, all eyes snapped to him.

Nyx's smirk widened. "They're already nervous."

Riven ignored them, stepping forward. His name still sat at Rank 159, exactly where he had left it. That wouldn't last long.

He raised his hand and pressed it against the smooth obsidian surface.

The Monolith pulsed, responding to his mana. The rankings ahead of him shimmered, revealing the students within his challenge range.

Riven's eyes scanned the names. He wasn't looking for an easy fight—he was looking for the fastest path upward.

And then he saw it.

Eryk Vale (Rank 139)

A quiet ripple went through the crowd.

Someone behind him let out a low whistle. "Eryk? Not a bad choice. He's a duelist—fast, lightning-based magic, not one to underestimate."

Riven smirked. Perfect.

Without hesitation, he strode toward the Elder overseeing the duels and placed the required mana beast cores on the stone pedestal, offering them without a word as tribute to summon Eryk.

The stone pedestal drank in the mana beast cores with a low, resonant hum, their glow flickering out one by one as the Elder's hand swept over them. A pulse of magic rippled through the air as the challenge was accepted, the Monolith flaring with a new inscription.

[Challenge Issued: Riven Drakar vs. Eryk Vale]

The crowd stirred.

Within moments, the center ring of the dueling grounds shimmered, the barriers activating—transparent walls of reinforced mana sealing off the arena. Energy arced through the air, the tension growing as onlookers gathered along the perimeter, whispers surging like wind through tall grass.

"He's really doing it."

"Isn't Eryk a lightning mage? One of the faster duelists?"

"I thought Riven vanished after the Voss fight—what the hell has he been doing since then?"

Riven tuned them out.

He stepped into the ring, the tiles beneath his boots humming in response to the pressure radiating from his form. His movements were calm, measured, deliberate—each step silent but final, like the toll of a funeral bell.

Across from him, a portal of pale blue mana shimmered to life. From it stepped Eryk Vale, lightning already crackling along his arms. His lean form was draped in the standard Second-Year dueling robes, but his mana flared with a sharp, electric bite. His silver hair was tousled by the static aura surrounding him, and his blue eyes locked onto Riven immediately.

"I was hoping to get through today without a duel," Eryk muttered, sparks crackling between his fingers as he flexed his hands. "But I guess you're here to put on another performance."

Riven tilted his head. "You're in my way. That's all."

Eryk's lips curled into a grin, but there was tension in his shoulders. "Then try to move me."

The Elder raised a hand between them, mana forming a luminous sigil in the air.

"Duel begins on my mark."

A long silence stretched.

Then—

"Begin!"

Eryk vanished in a crackle of lightning.

The air exploded with force as he reappeared beside Riven, his hand outstretched, a lance of electricity spearing toward Riven's chest.

Fast.

But not fast enough.

Riven didn't move—not in any way the eye could follow. One moment he stood still, and the next, his form blurred with heat distortion, vanishing in a ripple of scorched air. He reappeared behind Eryk in an instant, abyssal fire already coiling around his arm like a living serpent.

He struck.

Eryk spun at the last second, a lightning barrier flaring to life, absorbing part of the impact—but not all of it. The flames licked across his shoulder, searing fabric and skin, drawing a sharp hiss from his lips.

"Not bad," Eryk muttered, skidding back, electricity bursting from his heels to propel him across the ring.

Not enough.

Riven surged forward, Crimson Mirage activating. His afterimages split around him in chaotic formation, dozens of silhouettes racing forward at once.

Eryk's eyes narrowed. He launched arcs of lightning in every direction, cutting through the illusions one by one—but Riven was already above him, descending with abyssal flames igniting along his blade.

Eryk raised both hands and shouted—"Arc Cage!"

Bolts of lightning surged into a dome around him, a cage of raw power meant to trap and paralyze.

But Riven didn't hesitate.

His blade plunged into the lightning, his abyssal mana roaring to life.

And the dome began to wither.

The golden arcs dimmed, sparks bleeding into shadows as Riven's flames devoured the energy—not resisted it, not dispelled it—but consumed it, twisted it into something darker. Something his own.

Eryk's eyes widened. "You—what the hell are you?"

Riven's expression didn't change. "A warning."

He drove the blade down, shattering the dome.

Eryk attempted to dodge, lightning exploding at his feet, but Riven's Scorching Chains burst from the shadows beneath him, wrapping around his ankle. The lightning surged to break them—but this time, the abyss didn't yield.

It fed.

Eryk was yanked downward.

And then Riven was there—blade at his throat, abyssal fire flickering along the edge like the hiss of a dying god.

The Elder raised a hand. "Enough!"

The mana barriers dropped.

Silence.

Then the Monolith flared.

[Rank 139 Achieved – Riven Drakar]

Gasps. Murmurs. And one voice, stunned and trembling.

"He consumed the lightning…"

Eryk remained on one knee, his chest heaving, the residual sparks of lightning flickering weakly around his form. His eyes never left Riven—not in fear, but in deep, unsettled calculation.

"I've heard rumors about your flames," he said slowly, voice tight. "They said it wasn't fire at all… that it eats mana. I thought it was just exaggeration."

Riven tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.

"They're just flames," Riven said casually, his tone light with a hint of amusement. He shrugged, as if there was nothing more to explain.

Eryk's gaze lingered on him, uncertain, eyes narrowing slightly. But he didn't argue. Not here. Not after what he'd just seen. Whatever Riven truly was—he wasn't someone to test twice.

The crowd stayed hushed, the lingering tension from the duel clinging to the air like static. Even the Elder seemed momentarily distracted, his eyes following Riven with an almost contemplative stillness—watchful, wary.

The Monolith pulsed softly behind him, the glow beside his name now shifted.

Rank 139.

Another step forward. Another piece removed from the board.

The moment the ranking locked into place, a low murmur spread through the crowd like a slow-burning fire. The duel was over, but the atmosphere didn't ease. If anything, it grew heavier—warier.

Nyx stepped up beside Riven, her eyes scanning the Monolith as it glowed with his new rank. "That's one down." she said quietly, just for him.

Riven didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the Monolith, on the rows of names ahead of him, each a step between where he stood now and the top. Rank 1. Cassiel. The final obstacle.

Riven's hand lifted again, pressing against the obsidian surface. The Monolith responded at once, pulsing as it accepted his mana signature. The available names shifted again, adjusting to his new position.

This time, he didn't hesitate.

Kalen Morwyn — Rank 119

A ripple passed through the onlookers.

"Kalen?" someone said behind him. "That guy's brutal. Full-body reinforcement, earth and metal alignment. Doesn't go down easy."

"Not a good matchup against someone like Riven," another whispered. "Flames or not, metal beats fire."

"Not his fire," a third voice cut in. "Didn't you see what happened to Eryk's lightning?"

Riven tuned them all out.

The Elder gave a subtle nod as he accepted the next offering of mana beast cores. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the next challenger.

Kalen appeared in the dueling ring moments later—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark copper hair swept back, arms already coated in jagged bands of hardened earth. His eyes narrowed as he took in Riven, sizing him up.

"I've seen you clawing your way up the rankings," Kalen said, his voice low and rough, like stone grinding against stone. "But you're getting ahead of yourself. That confidence of yours? It's about to meet reality. Some of us aren't so easy to burn through."

Riven didn't flinch at Kalen's words.

He simply took a step forward, the floor beneath him subtly blackening as heat rippled outward from his presence. The faint hiss of abyssal flame licking the edge of his fingers was enough to make a few spectators step back.

The Elder didn't bother repeating the rules. The crowd knew the drill. So did they.

"Begin!"

Kalen wasted no time.

Stone surged up around his feet as he lunged, fists sheathed in iron-hard mana. His magic wasn't flashy—it didn't need to be. His style was brute efficiency, grounded and overwhelming. One hit could shatter ribs. Two could end a fight.

Riven met him head-on.

Flames burst across the dueling platform, washing over the floor as Riven's aura flared. Their clash sent a gust of wind outward, sending dust spiraling and mana curling in every direction.

Kalen's fist drove forward, aimed straight for Riven's chest—but Riven dipped beneath it, twisting sideways, his body slipping just outside the arc of the strike.

Abyssal fire ignited along his palm. He slammed it into Kalen's ribs.

The metal reinforcement groaned beneath the impact. Not shattered. But strained. The heat and darkness began to spread—eating into the stone.

Kalen growled and countered with a sweeping elbow, catching Riven in the side and sending him skidding back a few paces.

"You're fast," Kalen admitted, already advancing again. "But fire doesn't crush stone."

"No," Riven said calmly, catching his breath as the flames coiled tighter around his arms. "But my fire doesn't burn..."

Kalen raised a brow—just before a line of black flame scorched the earth between them.

"It devours."

He launched forward again, faster now. Crimson Mirage burst to life, scattering afterimages across the platform. Kalen struck one—then two—before a third crumbled into flames.

The real Riven darted in from the right, his blade sweeping low.

This time, Kalen blocked it fully. His arms crossed in front of his chest, mana reinforcing the stone barrier.

But Riven wasn't aiming to break the shield.

He was aiming to corrode it.

The black fire didn't flash. It sunk in. It ate. Kalen's arms flexed as he tried to shake it off—but the stone had begun to pit and crumble.

He took a step back. Then another.

But Riven pressed forward.

He unleashed a wave of abyssal fire, low and wide—forcing Kalen to jump, to disengage. It bought Riven time. Enough to close the distance once more.

Their next clash was brutal.

Fist met flame, stone met darkness. The dueling ring rattled as shockwaves cracked through the barrier. Kalen gritted his teeth, but Riven's strikes didn't relent. Each one was perfectly placed, precise—aimed not to overpower, but to chip, to peel, to rot through Kalen's reinforced body, until—

With a sudden burst of force, Riven planted a Scorching Chain into the ground.

It erupted at Kalen's feet, wrapping his legs before he could jump away.

The moment of stillness was all Riven needed.

He crossed the distance in a blur, his blade igniting with concentrated flame.

And then he struck—one clean slash across Kalen's chestplate.

It didn't explode.

It simply vanished, eaten through completely by a narrow, black-hot line of abyssal fire.

Kalen froze. The stone and iron on his body began to crack.

He stumbled, the mana unraveling from his limbs like dust blown from old bones.

Riven didn't waste the moment.

With a sharp exhale, he stepped in and drove his heel into Kalen's chest with a brutal, precise kick. The impact cracked through the air like thunder.

Kalen's body was sent hurtling backward, slamming into the mana barrier with a dull, resounding boom. The force rattled the wards, drawing a few startled gasps from the crowd.

He slid down the glowing wall, landing hard on the tiles—dazed, unmoving.

The Elder raised a hand.

"Enough!"

The barrier shimmered and dropped.

And then the Monolith flared.

[Rank 119 Achieved – Riven Drakar]

The crowd erupted—this time not in noise, but with motion. Dozens of heads turned, voices hushed and frantic. Not a single student around the arena looked away.

Nyx, arms crossed behind the ring, let out a soft breath.

Riven stood over Kalen's kneeling form, eyes cold, the edges of his blade still glowing with flickering heat. He said nothing. Made no move to taunt or gloat.

There was no need.

The silence spoke for him.

He turned without a word, already stepping toward the Monolith once more.

It was time to find his next opponent.