The Glitched Mage-Chapter 86: Riven vs Cole

The moment the elder's voice rang out, the tension snapped.

Cole moved first.

Fire erupted from his palms, roaring to life in three spiraling lances. They shot forward at blistering speed, twisting through the air like spears of molten destruction.

Riven barely twitched.

His abyssal flames pulsed to life, flickering in the depths of his shadow before rising to his fingertips. With a flick of his wrist, tendrils of dark fire surged forth.

The moment the fire lances met his abyssal flames, they vanished.

Not dissipated.

Not countered.

Devoured.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Riven's lips curled into a lazy smirk. "That all?"

Cole's crimson eyes darkened. Without hesitation, he lunged, his mana surging violently.

The stone beneath his feet cracked as he shot forward, fire bursting from his limbs to propel him. His fist, wreathed in explosive flames, cut through the air, aiming for Riven's ribs.

Riven didn't move until the last moment.

Then—he sidestepped.

Effortless. Precise.

Cole's fist burned through empty space, missing by mere inches.

His frustration flared, and he spun—bringing his other fist up in a sharp arc, flames roaring.

Riven ducked.

The heat licked at his skin, but he was already countering.

His knee shot up.

Cole's ribs met his strike, a rush of air escaping his lungs in a sharp gasp. He barely had time to process it before—

Crack.

Riven's elbow slammed into his jaw.

The force sent Cole skidding backward, his feet barely finding purchase on the stone platform.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"That speed—"

"What just happened?"

Cole wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, his mana flaring violently. He snarled, his frustration boiling over. "You—"

Riven exhaled, brushing dust from his sleeve. "Come on, Cole. You challenged me for this?" Abyssal fire crackled lazily around his fingertips. "I was hoping you'd at least try."

Cole's mana spiked.

Then—the entire dueling platform ignited.

A wave of searing heat erupted from his body, engulfing everything in a raging inferno. The golden runes along the containment barrier pulsed violently, struggling to hold back the sheer force of his mana.

The heat was suffocating.

A student near the front stumbled back, shielding their face. "Shit—"

"He's serious—"

Even the elders overseeing the match shifted slightly.

At the heart of the inferno, Cole stood tall, his flames coiling around him like living entities. His breathing was steady, controlled. The arrogance in his smirk had sharpened into something more dangerous.

"I've been waiting for this," Cole said, his voice a low growl. "I've spent months refining my control, pushing my flames beyond anything you've seen."

The fire around him pulsed—then compressed.

The once-wild flames tightened, forming concentrated rings of white-hot fire that hovered around his body like chained serpents.

"This—" Cole's eyes burned, his aura flaring. "—is real fire magic."

Riven's gaze flickered over the refined flames, his smirk never wavering. "Not bad."

Cole's smirk widened. "Let's see how well your eerie flames hold up."

Then—he moved.

Faster than before.

The flames coiling around him shot outward, twisting into massive arcs of white-hot destruction. At the same time, Cole closed the distance, his fists wreathed in burning rings.

The air trembled.

Riven's smirk vanished.

He moved.

Shadows twisted beneath him, boosting his speed as he weaved through the first arc of fire. The heat scorched the fabric of his cloak, but he was already countering.

His Crimson Mirage activated.

Heat distorted the air, creating afterimages of him.

Cole's eyes narrowed as his fist smashed through an illusion, hitting nothing.

"Damn it—"

Riven appeared behind him.

Abyssal flames roared to life in his palm.

Cole barely had time to react before Riven's palm slammed into his back.

Scorching Chain.

Flaming chains exploded from Riven's hand, wrapping around Cole's body like a vice. The moment they locked in place, they ignited.

BOOM.

Cole screamed.

The abyssal fire didn't just burn—it ate.

His mana, his heat—it was all being consumed.

But Cole wasn't done yet.

He roared, his flames detonating outward, shattering the chains in a violent explosion.

The shockwave sent Riven skidding back—but he was already prepared. His Ember Cloak activated. Fire coiled around him like living armor, reinforcing his body, his movements.

Cole charged again.

This time, his entire arm ignited in a concentrated spiral of compressed flames. The temperature spiked, the very air distorting from the sheer heat.

His fist shot forward and Riven met him head-on.

Abyssal Flame erupted.

Their fists collided.

The moment they made contact—

BOOM.

A shockwave tore through the dueling grounds.

The fire spiral shattered and Cole staggered back, coughing, his eyes wide with shock.

Riven stood firm.

His dark flames licked at his skin, pulsing with raw, insatiable hunger.

Cole clenched his teeth. "What the hell are you?"

Riven tilted his head slightly, flexing his fingers as the last remnants of fire flickered along his knuckles. His voice was almost bored. "Did you really think I've been wasting my time these past few months? That I was just sitting around, doing nothing?" He exhaled, giving Cole a slow, deliberate once-over, his smirk curling at the edges. "And here I thought you had been working so hard." His tone turned mockingly sympathetic. "What a shame. Father's going to be so disappointed."

Cole's aura flared in response, his frustration boiling over. He lunged again, this time pouring everything into a final, desperate attack.

A magic circle ignited in front of his outstretched palms.

The golden runes along the barrier pulsed frantically, as if the sheer concentration of mana was too much.

The ground rumbled.

The heat spiked dangerously.

The flames spiraling around Cole's limbs compressed, condensing into a sphere of pure destruction.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Is that—?"

"He's using Hellfire Collapse—"

"He's going to kill him—!"

The elders tensed at the edge of the arena, their hands subtly raised, prepared to intervene.

Cole grinned wildly, sweat dripping down his brow, his body barely holding together from the sheer force of his own spell. "Let's see if your creepy flames can eat this, Riven—Hellfire Collapse!"

He threw it.

A spinning sphere of devastation tore through the air, its sheer heat warping space itself. The moment it left his hands, the stone beneath him shattered.

Riven… sighed.

Then he raised his hand.

Abyssal fire coiled.

The flames at his fingertips twisted, condensing into a single, razor-thin beam.

Infernal Burst.

The moment the black fire met the Hellfire, the abyssal power cut through it, devouring it from the inside out, swallowing the condensed mana whole.

Then—silence.

Cole staggered, breath ragged. His flames—gone.

The arena stood still.

The crowd, the elders, the students—everyone stared.

Riven took a step forward.

Cole flinched.

For the first time, true fear flickered across his brother's face.

Riven leaned in slightly, his dark eyes gleaming. "Still think I've been hiding, brother?"

A wild, almost fanatic grin stretched across Riven's face as he stood over Cole, the black fire still smoldering at his fingertips. Cole's chest heaved, his limbs trembling as he struggled to push himself upright, his pupils shaking with fear.

Riven tilted his head, his gaze sharp, unrelenting. "Don't provoke me again."

The weight of his voice pressed down on Cole, his words laced with a chilling authority that seeped into the very air around them.

Cole barely had time to inhale before Riven's foot slammed into his chest.

The force of the kick sent him hurtling backward, his body crashing into the barrier with a sickening thud before he collapsed in a heap on the stone floor.

A heartbeat of silence.

Then the elder's voice rang out. "Victor—Riven Drakar."

The announcement of Riven's victory barely registered as the dueling ground shook with the weight of the spectators' reactions. The sheer contrast between expectation and reality had left them reeling. The noble heirs who had once whispered of his weakness now gaped in stunned silence. The ones who had mocked his absence now struggled to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

The name Riven Drakar no longer carried the taint of disgrace.

It carried fear.

Cole lay sprawled where he had fallen, his chest heaving, eyes wide as the echoes of battle still pulsed through the air. His body trembled—not just from pain, but from the sheer realization of how outclassed he truly was. This wasn't the same fight as before. This wasn't the same brother he had tormented for years.

He had never stood a chance.

Riven exhaled, flexing his hands as the last wisps of fire dissipated from his fingertips. The heat of the duel still clung to his skin, but he remained unbothered, his breathing as steady as if this had all been a mere exercise.

Nyx, who had been watching from the shadows beyond the arena, grinned as she leaned against the stone railing, utterly unphased by the battle's outcome. 'Pathetic,' she thought, her sharp gaze flickering over Cole's broken form. 'All that talk, all that fire—yet it took only minutes for him to fall.'

Cole groaned, stirring slightly, his pride far more shattered than his body. He barely managed to lift his head before Riven crouched beside him, voice low enough for only him to hear.

"I warned you."

Cole flinched, his hands curling into fists against the ground, but he didn't speak. He couldn't.

Because he knew—this was over.

Riven sighed, standing once more before casting a glance toward the rest of the stunned crowd. His gaze swept across the noble heirs, the instructors, the ones who had whispered of his downfall.

"I hope you all enjoyed the show," he said, voice eerily calm, yet dripping with amusement.

No one responded.

Not a single person dared.

As Riven stepped off the dueling platform, the weight of a hundred eyes followed him, but he paid them no mind. The fear, the shock, the whispers that would spread in the coming days—none of it mattered. He had made his point.

Nyx fell into step beside him, hands tucked into her robes. "That was entertaining," she mused. "Though, I half expected you to kill him at the end."

Riven gave her a sideways glance. "Too many eyes."

Nyx scoffed and then grumbled. "I still think you should of done it."

He smirked but didn't argue. Instead, his hand dipped into his robes, withdrawing a pouch of mana cores. Without stopping, he passed it to her.

Nyx raised an eyebrow as she took it, feeling the weight. "What's this?"

"Entry fee," he said. "Get into the mana beast island and bring back as many cores as you can. The higher the tier, the better."

Nyx whistled, tucking the pouch away. "Planning to drain the Academy's best hunting ground dry?"

Riven's expression was unreadable. "I'll be busy elsewhere. I need you to cover for me."

Nyx tilted her head slightly, studying him. "Where are you going?"

He didn't answer immediately. Then, with an exhale, he glanced at her. "Elara summoned me."

That was enough to make Nyx's expression shift into something more serious. "The Archmage?"

He nodded.

Nyx hummed, then shrugged. "You want me nearby?"

"No," he said. "It's better if I go alone."

She studied him for a moment longer before nodding. "Fine. Try not to cause too much trouble — I don't want to miss out."

With that, she veered off, heading toward the marketplace district where entry permits for the mana beast island were handled. Riven continued forward, his path leading him toward the towering structure of the Archmage's chambers.

—x—

The halls of the upper academy were eerily silent when Riven arrived at the door he was guided to. A student passing through would have assumed this part of the academy was empty, but he knew better.

The door to Archmage Elara's study opened before he could knock.

Stepping inside, Riven took in the vast chamber. Unlike the grand halls of the Academy, Elara's domain was quiet, refined—lined with towering bookshelves, floating sigils casting soft, ambient light. The air was thick with mana, an almost tangible force that pressed against the skin.

At the center of it all, Elara sat behind a curved desk, quill in hand, as if he were no more than a minor appointment in her day. Her robes, deep violet and embroidered with runic patterns, shimmered faintly in the dim light.

"You certainly know how to make a comeback, Riven," she said without looking up.

He smiled faintly. "I like to keep things interesting."

Elara set her quill down and finally met his gaze. Her expression was unreadable, sharp violet eyes assessing him in a way that always felt more intrusive than it should.

"Tell me," she said, folding her hands together. "How have you been since the royal summons?"

Riven didn't flinch. "Fine."

Her lips curled slightly. "That's all? I would have expected a more detailed response, considering the rumours."

Riven's gaze didn't waver. "Rumours are just rumours."

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"What do you know about the Shadow Kingdom?" Elara asked abruptly.

For the briefest fraction of a second, Riven stilled. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his abyssal eyes before his expression smoothed over, slipping effortlessly back into one of practiced indifference—calm, almost bored.

Silence stretched between them.

Elara leaned back slightly. "You seemed composed until now," she observed. "Tell me, Riven—why does the mention of a fallen kingdom make you pause?"

His response was careful. "It doesn't. I was just wondering why you're asking."

Elara tilted her head slightly, the glow of her sigils casting sharp shadows across her face. "Because the Shadow Kingdom has been dead for over a decade," she said. "Yet, recently, merchants and explorers alike have returned with… unusual stories. Land that should have been barren is thriving. Roads once abandoned are being cleared. And trade routes—ones thought lost—have begun to stir again."

She let the words settle before continuing. "Tell me, Riven. Do you know anything about this?"

Riven exhaled softly, his mind already calculating.

He met her gaze, his voice even. "Should I?"

Elara studied him in silence, her violet eyes sharp, dissecting. The weight of her gaze felt like a scalpel, peeling back layers in search of something hidden.

Riven didn't flinch.

His expression remained composed, his posture unbothered, but inside, calculations whirred. She had given him too much information upfront. That was unlike her. Was she testing him? Fishing for a reaction? Or was this something more?

"You tell me," she finally said, her voice smooth, deliberate. "Should you?"

Riven exhaled, a quiet amusement lacing his tone. "You say that as if I've set foot anywhere beyond the Academy walls lately." He tilted his head slightly, his smirk lazy. "Do you really think I have the time to go gallivanting across some long-dead wasteland?"

Elara's lips curled, her expression unreadable. "A rather absurd notion."

"Isn't it?" Riven echoed smoothly, his gaze steady, unbothered.

A slow, charged silence filled the room. The soft flicker of floating runes cast shifting shadows across Elara's face, accentuating her calm scrutiny. She was waiting for something.

Riven leaned back in his chair, feigning thoughtfulness. "I suppose it is odd, though," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "I heard that the Shadow Kingdom was salted. Nothing should grow there."

Elara tapped a single finger against the polished wood of her desk. "That's what the scholars have always said."

"Scholars are often wrong," Riven remarked smoothly.

"Mm," she hummed. "And yet, some things defy explanation."

Riven kept his smirk in place, but he could feel the direction this conversation was tilting. She didn't know. Not yet. But she suspected.

Which meant this was dangerous ground.

Elara exhaled, reclining slightly in her chair. "You're surprisingly calm for someone who's been accused of isolating himself in a training hall for months," she remarked. "Most students in your position would be quick to refute such claims."

Riven offered a small, almost amused shrug. "I find it's often easier to let people believe what they wish."

Her lips curved faintly, a hint of amusement in her gaze. "You could just say the truth — that you could care less what people think."

He tilted his head, watching her. "Is that why I'm here? To be questioned about rumors?"

Elara regarded him for a moment before exhaling softly. "No," she admitted. "I was merely… curious."

That was a lie.

Riven knew it the moment she said it.

Curiosity alone wouldn't bring him here. Not when she was one of the few people in the Academy who truly understood how the political tides moved. No, this was something deeper.

Something personal.

But he didn't press.

Instead, he exhaled lightly. "Well," he said, standing, "I hope I've satisfied that curiosity."

Elara watched him rise but didn't stop him. She didn't call his bluff or try to push further. Instead, she merely inclined her head slightly, her gaze still assessing, still dissecting.

"For now."

Riven smiled. "Good."

Elara's gaze didn't waver as she watched him, something unreadable flickering behind her violet eyes. Then, after a beat of silence, she leaned forward, folding her hands atop her desk.

"I've delayed it long enough," she said, her voice carrying an unusual finality. "Starting tomorrow, we begin your lessons."

Riven raised an eyebrow. "Have we not already?"

Elara exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "No. What we've had so far have been conversations, observations. Now, I want to see your capabilities firsthand." She tilted her head slightly. "I want to see how far I can push you."

A hum of interest rumbled in Riven's chest. "That eager to mold me into something more?"

Elara's lips curled faintly, but there was no amusement in her expression—only certainty. "No, Riven," she said. "I want to see how much you can truly become."

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken meaning.

Then, she reached into her desk, pulling out a small, intricately carved silver pendant. She placed it on the polished surface between them. "Meet me at the Market District at dawn," she instructed. "Wear this when you do."

Riven picked up the pendant, running his fingers over the faint inscriptions. A concealment rune. Temporary, but powerful enough to suppress certain aspects of his mana signature.

Interesting.

He met her gaze once more, the corner of his lips twitching slightly. "Planning something, Archmage?"

Elara smirked. "Always."

Riven exhaled softly, pocketing the pendant before turning toward the door. "Very well," he said over his shoulder. "I'll see you at dawn."

As he stepped out, he could feel her gaze lingering on his back, the weight of her expectations settling over him.

He had piqued her interest.

Now, it was time to see just how far she was willing to take him.