The Glitched Mage-Chapter 96: I need to train more…

Riven froze. The words replayed in his mind, over and over, refusing to settle into something comprehensible.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

"Seventh…" he finally echoed, his voice quieter than before. His throat felt dry. "You're a seventh-circle mage?"

Nyx grinned. "Yep!" she said with an almost casual air, as if she hadn't just shattered his entire understanding of their power scale. "Krux, Mal, and I are all at the Seventh Circle. Damon and Aria are at the Sixth."

Riven exhaled slowly, his vision swaying slightly as the weight of that knowledge crashed down on him like an avalanche. He moved to sit on a nearby stone bench, gripping the edge as he stared at Nyx—seeing her in an entirely new light.

She watched him, amusement flickering in her obsidian eyes. "Well, I was a Seventh Circle mage," she admitted. "But my mana still hasn't fully recovered since returning from the Abyss." She shrugged, completely unbothered. "Right now, percentage-wise, I'd say I'm around the Fourth Circle—maybe bordering on the Fifth."

Riven ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

He had been breaking his body, tearing himself apart, just to reached the Third Circle—and she was telling him that at her weakest, she was already beyond him? That Krux, Mal, and the others had been at these levels all along?

He let out a short, humorless laugh.

"…I need to train more."

Nyx smirked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the mausoleum's cold stone wall. "You say that like we haven't been telling you to take your strength more seriously," she teased. "Though, I have to admit, your progress has been impressive. You went from practically being clueless about mana to becoming a third circle mage in what? A matter of months?"

Riven exhaled through his nose, his gaze still locked onto the ground. "Not enough. It's still not enough." His fingers curled into fists against his knees. "I thought I was catching up—that I was finally getting strong enough to stand on the same level as you all - even above that. But if this is the gap I'm dealing with, then I've barely even started."

Nyx's amusement dimmed slightly as she tilted her head. "Riven, there's no shame in still growing. None of us were born at the Seventh Circle. We had to claw our way there." She pushed off the wall and walked toward him, her presence looming even without fully revealing herself. "And besides, if we're being honest, your raw potential? It's higher than all of us."

Riven finally lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Higher?"

Nyx nodded. "Higher. You think Velmorian chose you just because you were convenient? No. He saw something in you—a potential that even we don't fully understand yet. You're still in the early stages of unlocking what you can really do." She smirked, sharp and knowing. "And if you think we don't notice it, you're blind."

Riven stayed silent for a moment before leaning back against the stone, exhaling slowly. "It still doesn't change the fact that I'm behind." His voice was quieter this time, not frustration but reflection. "I hate being behind."

Nyx chuckled, crouching in front of him so their eyes were level. "You won't be for long. If there's anything I've learned about you, it's that you don't stay at the bottom for long." She poked his forehead lightly, grinning as his scowl deepened. "But don't expect to surpass me anytime soon. I've got a head start."

Riven swatted her hand away, rolling his eyes. "We'll see."

"We will," Nyx said smugly. She stood, stretching her arms over her head. "Now, I did just show you my blade and give you a glimpse into a whole new level of spectral forging. So, are you going to mope, or are you going to start figuring out how to create something even better?"

Riven glanced at her, then let out a slow breath. "How did you do it?" His voice was thoughtful now, turning toward curiosity. "How did you forge Erebus? You didn't just bind a spirit—you said it still thinks. Still exists. What made it different from any other spectral weapon?"

Nyx's expression shifted, amusement fading just slightly as something more contemplative settled in. She leaned back against the wall again, crossing her arms as she spoke. "The process isn't that different from normal spectral forging, at least at the start. The difference is the spirit itself. Most wraiths, specters, or abyssal souls we forge into weapons are either too weak-willed or already too fragmented to resist the process. Their existence is shaped into a weapon, and that's all they become."

She tilted her head slightly, glancing toward where she had summoned Erebus just minutes ago. "But some spirits—rare ones—are too strong-willed. Instead of being completely broken down, they retain themselves. Their will carries over into the weapon, and if the wielder is strong enough to withstand that presence… well, the result is something like Erebus."

Riven absorbed her words in silence before speaking. "And how do you control a weapon like that? A weapon with its own mind?"

Nyx's smirk returned, though there was something darker beneath it. "You don't control it," she said simply. "You command it. You make it respect you." Her obsidian eyes flickered with something unreadable. "It's a partnership, in a way. But one built on absolute dominance. If I ever faltered, if I ever became weaker than Erebus… it would turn on me in an instant."

Riven frowned slightly, turning the information over in his mind. "So it's a balance between forging the strongest possible weapon while making sure it doesn't become too strong for the wielder."

"Exactly," Nyx confirmed. "And trust me, it's a dangerous line to walk. More than a few necromancers have tried to create weapons like Erebus, only to lose themselves in the process. Either their own mana gets drained trying to sustain the blade, or the weapon turns on them entirely." She grinned again, flashing sharp teeth. "But you? I think you have what it takes to succeed."

Riven huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "And here I was, thinking spectral forging was already advanced enough."

Nyx gave him a pointed look. "You should know by now, Riven. There's always something stronger." She pushed off the wall and turned toward the mausoleum's exit. "Now, are you going to keep brooding, or are you going to start training?"

Riven stood, stretching slightly. "You already know the answer to that."

Nyx smirked. "Good. Because if you are going to forge a weapon like Erebus, you'll need more than just raw talent." She glanced at him over her shoulder. "You'll need to find a spirit strong enough to make it worth your while."

Riven's lips curled slightly. "I suppose I should start looking, then."

Nyx's voice carried the same amusement as always, but there was something else beneath it now. Something expectant.

"I look forward to seeing what you create."

—x—

The next few days passed without incident. Riven continued monitoring the Shadow Kingdom through his undead, observing its steady expansion with satisfaction. Every report confirmed that the reconstruction was progressing at an impressive pace—new structures rising, resources flowing in, and the foundations of an empire slowly taking shape.

Yet, despite the steady march of progress, an odd tension settled in his chest. It was subtle at first, an underlying sense of unease that he couldn't quite place. The closer the month drew to its end, the stronger it became—like a whisper at the edge of his thoughts, reminding him of something just out of reach.

He frowned, his fingers tapping absently against his desk. What was he forgetting?

'What's wrong?' Nyx's voice curled through Riven's mind, smooth yet tinged with curiosity. She remained hidden within his shadow as he sat at a worn wooden desk in one of the Necromancy Temple's smaller libraries. The dim candlelight flickered over the aged pages of the history book he had been attempting to read—attempting being the key word.

Riven exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. 'I don't know,' he admitted, brows knitting together. 'It feels like I've forgotten something—something important.'

Nyx hummed thoughtfully, her presence shifting slightly. 'I don't recall anything significant happening soon. What's today's date?'

Riven's fingers drummed against the book's spine. 'The twenty-seventh.'

And then—he stilled.

His breath slowed. A realization clawed its way to the surface, heavy and unexpected.

'Oh… is that what's bothering me?'

Nyx caught the change in his tone immediately. 'You remembered something?'

'My eighteenth birthday.' Riven sighed, leaning back against the creaking chair. 'I completely forgot about it.'

A beat of silence. Then—

'WHAT?!' Nyx's voice practically exploded in his mind, the sheer force of it making him flinch. 'What the—why didn't you tell me?!'

Riven rubbed his temple harder as his skull throbbed from her outburst. 'Is it important? It's just another day.'

'It's not just another day!' Nyx's frustration was palpable. 'It's your coming of age! It's—' She cut herself off abruptly, and her presence flickered with something unreadable.

Riven frowned. 'What?'

'Wait… what date did you say today was again?'

'The twenty-seventh.'

Another pause. This time, when Nyx spoke, her voice was lower, contemplative. 'Before the fall of the Shadow Kingdom, on the first full moon of autumn, the veil between this world and the Abyss was at its weakest. We held a festival to celebrate the dead and honor their memory.'

Riven's frown deepened. The first full moon…

And then it hit him.

A memory surfaced—one that had been buried beneath layers of everything else that had happened.

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That night after he had learned his first ever spell, his system had been overridden. He had been momentarily pulled into the Abyss.

The distorted voice had whispered to him then.

"On the night of the autumn full moon, the undead will be at their strongest… Beware… the academy… find the relic… Abyss Born."

Riven's stomach twisted.

His obsidian dragon egg was a relic—but something in his gut told him that wasn't the one the voice had meant.

'Nyx…' His voice was steady, but tension curled beneath it. 'That festival you mentioned… when exactly did it take place?'

Nyx was quiet for a moment before she answered. 'Always on the twenty-eighth. The night of the full moon.'

The exact night the warning had spoken of.