The Glitched Mage

The sun had barely begun its ascent when the first changes in the abyss-touched field became apparent.

Riven stood at the edge, arms crossed, watching as the air above the soil shimmered faintly. The crops, infused with abyssal energy, pulsed with an unnatural vibrancy. Already, tiny sprouts had begun to push through the earth, some of them dark-veined, others radiating a faint glow.

"They shouldn't be growing this fast," Mal murmured, his silver eyes scanning the field with open fascination. "Even with the temporal distortion, this is… accelerated."

Riven didn't respond immediately. He could feel it—the subtle pull of the land, the way it reacted to his presence. The Abyss had not only claimed this soil, but it had also begun molding it to his will.

"They're growing," he finally said. "That's all that matters."

Damon let out a low whistle as he crouched down near the edge of the field. "That's one way to put it. This is beyond anything I've seen before." He tapped one of the sprouts gently. "You think they'll be safe to use?"

Mal shrugged. "The properties may have changed, but until we test them, we won't know how. We'll need an alchemist."

"Which we don't have," Nyx pointed out dryly.

"We will soon," Riven said simply.

The others shared a glance. He was always like this—making decisions with unwavering certainty, as if the world itself would bend to his will. And, more often than not, it did.

Aria stepped forward, her silver hair catching the morning light. She knelt beside one of the Void Thistle sprouts, running delicate fingers along its stem. "It's already absorbing abyssal energy," she noted, voice quiet but assured. "If this continues, it may not even resemble normal Void Thistle by the time it's fully grown."

Riven exhaled. "Good."

Mal arched a brow. "You want them to mutate?"

"If the world wanted normal crops, they'd look elsewhere," Riven said, his abyssal-blue eyes gleaming. "But something unique? Something they can only get here? That's how we make ourselves indispensable."

Mal let out a low chuckle. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"I always do." He chuckled. He turned from the field, his gaze sweeping over the encampment. The makeshift tents and temporary structures were beginning to shift into something more permanent. The first prototype of the apartment complex—his vision—was already taking shape in the heart of the settlement.

Workers hauled bricks, reinforced foundations, and began raising the skeletal framework of what would become the first true housing in the reborn kingdom. Unlike the sprawling homes of the past, this building would rise upward, a fortress of efficiency. It was new, foreign, but already it commanded attention.

Damon came to Riven's side, his red eyes flicking between the half-built structure and Riven. "I'll admit, when you pulled out those blueprints, I thought you were full of shit. But now?" He shook his head, smirking. "This is actually happening."

Riven arched a brow. "You doubted me?"

"Of course!" Damon shot back, grinning. "Makes it more entertaining when you prove me wrong."

Krux, who stood nearby overseeing the construction efforts, crossed his arms, his golden eyes sharp with focus. "The foundation is holding strong, and the stone reinforcement is working better than expected. It's sturdy." He gave Riven an impressed look.

Nyx stepped forward then, her sharp obsidian eyes gleaming with interest. "And what of the roads? The builders are already starting to carve out a proper path leading to Eldrin's Crossing." She tilted her head. "That wasn't part of the original plan this early, was it?"

Riven glanced toward the stretch of dirt now being flattened and reinforced. The workers, under Krux's and Damon's orders, had begun clearing the way for a proper road—one that would connect them to the outside world.

"We need a trade route," Riven said simply. "A direct line between us and civilization. The merchants will come, but they'll come faster if we make it easy for them."

Mal folded his arms. "Risky. If we make ourselves too visible too soon, the wrong people might notice."

"They'll notice either way," Riven countered. "Better to be prepared for when they do."

Silence followed his words, the weight of them settling over the group. They all knew what he meant. The Solis Kingdom. Rival warlords. Opportunists seeking to take what they had rebuilt. The Shadow Kingdom was no longer just a forgotten ruin.

Krux exhaled through his nose, nodding. "Then we'll make sure it's a road fit for a kingdom, not just another dirt path."

Damon grinned, cracking his knuckles. "This means more work, huh?"

"We're all gonna be working hard for the foreseeable future." Riven said with chuckle and made his way back towards his tent.

Riven entered his tent, letting the fabric flap fall behind him, blocking out the steady hum of construction and murmuring voices outside. The encampment was shifting, evolving, but for the Shadow Kingdom to truly rise, he needed more than strategy, more than innovation.

He needed power.

The Third Circle.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he rolled his shoulders. He had been avoiding this step, not out of fear—he had none—but because everything else had demanded his attention. But now, with his kingdom on the cusp of change, there was no excuse.

No guarantee of safety.

No way of knowing what was coming.

Only the certainty that when it did, he would not be caught unprepared.

Riven reached for the mana vials, fingers curling around the glass as he lifted one to the dim light of the lanterns. The liquid inside shimmered, a deep blue, thick with concentrated energy.

He sat crossed legged on the floor, closing his eyes and beginning to absorb mana.

[[ Absorbing Mana: (+40%) ]]

[[ 81%… ]]

[[ 82%… ]]

He took the first mana potions, uncorked the bottle and downed it in one swift motion.

Heat surged through his veins.

[[ You've ingested a Mana Potion! ]]

[[ Mana gained +3% ]]

[[ 85%… ]]

His mana heart pulsed violently in response to the potion, the energy flooding his system in rapid waves. His breathing hitched slightly, but he didn't falter.

He grabbed another vial.

[[ You've ingested a Mana Potion! ]]

[[ Mana gained +3% ]]

[[ 88%… ]]

And another.

[[ You've ingested a Mana Potion! ]]

[[ Mana gained +3% ]]

[[91%… ]]

He knocked back the last two potions, his body being flooded with an uncomfortable heat each time. Sweat beaded at his brow as he continued to guide the mana through his veins and into the confines of his mana heart.

The mana heart thundered rapidly in his chest, the two circles orbiting it spinning wildly as it adjusted to the surge of mana.

[[ You've ingested a Mana Potion! ]]

[[ Mana gained +3% ]]

[[ 97%… ]]

Riven exhaled sharply, letting the empty glass slip from his grip. His robes clung uncomfortably to his skin, damp with sweat, while his blood-red hair curled at the edges, sticking to his face. He had pushed himself to the brink, coming just shy of breaking into the Third Circle. But exhaustion weighed heavy in his limbs, and he knew better than to force the advancement now—not when he had no idea what kind of trial awaited him on the other side.

Pulling himself up, he stepped toward the tent entrance, pushing aside the flap. The encampment outside was still alive with movement despite the setting sun. Workers labored tirelessly on the rising apartment structure, their silhouettes outlined against the torchlight. Cooking fires crackled in the distance, pots simmering with the rich scent of stew.

Nearby, a small group of children laughed as they kicked around a bundle of cloth tied together into a makeshift ball.

Riven made his way over. "Hey."

The children froze mid-play, their wide eyes darting up at him.

"I need to ask you something." He gestured for them to come closer.

They hesitated, glancing at each other nervously before shuffling forward, their tiny feet barely making a sound in the dirt.

"H-Hello, my king," one of the boys stammered.

Beside him, a girl nudged him sharply with her elbow. "You have to bow! Bow!" she hissed.

Immediately, the children scrambled into clumsy bows, some nearly falling over in the process.

Riven waved them off. "Forget the bowing, it's fine." He crossed his arms. "I just need to know where the bathing chambers are. Can you show me?"

Their tension melted instantly. Realizing they weren't about to be scolded—or worse, punished—their expressions brightened.

"Oh! Yeah! We know where it is!" A boy grinned.

"It's this way!"

"Come on, mister King!"

Before he could react, tiny hands grabbed at the edges of his robes, tugging him forward. With surprising strength, the children half-dragged him through the encampment, chattering nonstop about everything and anything.

People glanced up as they passed, amused smiles and quiet laughter following in their wake.

A rare, soft smirk pulled at Riven's lips. It reminded him of the past. A life before the world he was in now. Back in the bakery, when children would barge in, rambling nonsense, distracting him—just for a moment—from a life that had felt so small.

"Here it is, mister King!" The girl, clearly the ringleader, came to a stop before a large tent. Wisps of steam curled from beneath the entrance flap.

"Thanks," Riven smiled and held out his hand, drawing a few silver coins from his inventory. "Here's payment for your hard work."

The moment the coins landed in their palms, the children squealed with excitement, clutching their rewards like treasures.

"Thanks, mister King!" They called as they darted off, eager to tell their families.

Riven chuckled as he turned toward the bath tent—only to hear a familiar voice from behind him.

"The terrifying Shadow King being nice to children? Should I be worried?"

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Nyx stood there, arms folded, a teasing grin playing at her lips.

"Do you really think I'm so evil that I'd be cruel to kids?" Riven arched a brow.

Nyx tilted her head, pretending to consider. "Yes," she deadpanned.

Riven resisted the urge to kick her.

Instead, he turned back toward the tent, stepping inside. The air was thick with heat, steam swirling lazily through the dimly lit space. Rows of wooden tubs lined the walls, separated by a hastily constructed partition to divide the genders. A lone guard stood watch near the entrance, ensuring order.

An elderly woman moved between the tubs, her wrinkled hands occasionally dipping into the water. A faint crimson magic circle flickered across her palm, and within seconds, the water beneath her touch bubbled with warmth.

"You're a mage," Riven noted.

The old woman looked up sharply. Her eyes widened in recognition before she dropped into a deep bow. "My king!"

Before she could lower herself further, Riven caught her by the arm with a sigh. "Enough with the bowing."

She hesitated, then straightened, lowering her head respectfully. "Thank you." A faint smile tugged at her lips, though she seemed almost embarrassed. "It's a stretch to call me a mage, but I know a few weak spells that are useful."

"Useful is still useful," Riven said. "A warm bath is a luxury in times like these."

She chuckled softly. "Then I suppose I have my purpose."

Riven hummed and moved toward one of the empty tubs, the warmth already beckoning him. The scent of herbs mixed with the steam—lavender and something sharper, meant to soothe aching muscles.

He peeled off his sweat-drenched robes, sinking into the heated water with a satisfied exhale.

Tomorrow, he would continue pushing forward.

Tonight, he allowed himself a moment to breathe.