Chapter 48 Mask

Chapter 48: Chapter 48 Mask

"The die is cast." — Julius Caesar

The morning light did little to warm Riven’s cramped room.

He stood before the cracked mirror, staring at the reflection staring back at him. The obsidian half mask covered the lower half of his face, its dark surface absorbing nearly all the light that touched it. Its edges blended seamlessly into his skin, following the contours of his cheekbones and jaw.

It no longer looked like something he was wearing.

It looked like part of him.

Riven reached up and cautiously touched its surface. The material was cold and unyielding. He tried pulling at one of its edges, though he already knew what would happen.

Nothing.

The mask didn’t move. There were no straps to loosen or buckles to undo. It was fused to his face, connected to his body in ways he still didn’t understand.

He lowered his hand.

There was no point wasting time trying again.

Riven pulled his dark cloak over his shoulders and drew the hood low. The fabric concealed most of his head, leaving only the mask and his eyes visible.

It wasn’t a perfect disguise, but it was better than walking around with the artifact completely exposed.

He checked his equipment, secured the belt around his waist, and left the room.

The settlement was already busy.

Merchants were setting up their stalls, workers hurried through the streets, and adventurers gathered outside the Guild. The smell of fresh bread and burning firewood drifted through the cold morning air.

Riven kept his head down as he walked through the market.

He had expected people to panic when they saw the mask. Perhaps someone would scream, or a guard might draw a weapon. The artifact looked frightening enough that he wouldn’t have been surprised if the townspeople mistook him for some kind of monster.

Instead, their reactions were strangely inconsistent.

A burly merchant pushing a cart nearly walked straight into him. The man looked down, expecting to see an ordinary child in his way.

Then he noticed the mask.

His expression changed immediately. His eyes widened, and his hand twitched toward the knife hanging from his belt.

Riven stopped.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the merchant’s gaze dropped to Riven’s small frame. His scuffed boots, narrow shoulders, and short stature made it obvious that he was looking at a young boy.

The man’s hand slowly moved away from his knife.

"What in the..." he muttered.

Riven didn’t answer. He simply walked around the cart and continued down the street.

He heard the merchant muttering something behind him, but he didn’t bother turning around.

Similar encounters followed as he made his way through the market.

Some people stared openly. Others quickly looked away when they noticed him watching. A few stepped aside, giving him more room than necessary.

Nobody screamed. Nobody called for the guards.

They were frightened, but the sight of a small child wearing such a disturbing artifact seemed to confuse them more than anything else.

Riven found the reactions almost amusing.

He had spent much of his life trying to avoid attracting attention. Now he had a mask that made him look like something out of a nightmare, and people couldn’t decide whether to be afraid of him or feel sorry for him.

Either way, they kept their distance.

That suited him just fine.

He pulled his hood lower and continued.

Vesper’s workshop was already open when Riven arrived.

He pushed through the heavy oak door and stepped inside.

The familiar smell of heated metal, alchemical ingredients, and burning mana greeted him. Brass gears covered one workbench, while several glowing runes had been carved into the stone walls. Tools and half finished magical devices were scattered across nearly every available surface.

Vesper sat hunched over a small mechanical device, peering through a pair of magnifying spectacles.

She didn’t look up when the door opened.

"If you’re here to deliver something, leave it by the door," she said. "And don’t touch anything."

Riven closed the door behind him.

He waited.

Several seconds passed before Vesper finally noticed that nobody had left.

She looked up.

Her eyes immediately settled on the mask.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she slowly lowered her tools.

"What in the depths happened to your face?"

Riven stood still, unsure how much he should tell her.

"I bought it."

Vesper blinked.

"You bought it?"

"In the Undervault."

That caught her attention.

She pushed her chair back and stood, approaching him with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"Let me see."

Riven didn’t move.

Vesper frowned.

"I’m not going to rip it off your face, you idiot. I want to examine it."

After a moment, he tilted his head slightly.

She leaned closer, inspecting the dark material. Her fingers hovered just above its surface, tracing the faint patterns of mana woven into the artifact.

"Interesting..."

She circled him, studying the way the mask blended into his skin.

"How long have you been wearing this?"

"Since yesterday."

"And it wasn’t attached when you bought it?"

"No."

Vesper’s expression darkened.

"What happened?"

"It fused when I put it on."

She stared at him.

Then she let out a long sigh.

"Of course it did."

Riven frowned beneath the mask.

"Can you remove it?"

Vesper didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, she returned to her workbench and retrieved a small crystal. She held it near his face and murmured an incantation.

The crystal glowed faintly.

Vesper’s eyes narrowed.

She moved it from one side of the mask to the other, occasionally stopping to examine the patterns of light forming inside it.

After several minutes, she put the crystal down and began tracing symbols in the air.

Riven watched as faint lines of mana appeared around his face. They formed a complicated web, connecting the mask to his body.

Vesper’s expression grew increasingly serious.

"Well, this is a mess."

"Can you remove it or not?"

She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"It’s a high class binding. The artifact isn’t simply sitting on your skin. It’s connected directly to your mana pathways and nervous system."

Riven’s stomach tightened.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning it’s anchored to your being. The mask has woven itself into your body."

He instinctively reached toward his face.

Vesper caught his wrist before he could touch it.

"And don’t try cutting it off. A normal blade won’t separate the artifact from your body. You’d likely take a good portion of your jaw with it."

Riven slowly lowered his hand.

"Is there any way to remove it?"

"Possibly."

He looked up.

Vesper crossed her arms.

"Someone with enough knowledge of Dispel magic or ritualistic curse breaking might be able to sever the connection. But that’s far beyond anything available in this settlement."

"Where would I find someone like that?"

"A major city, most likely. Somewhere with experienced artificers and high level mages. Even then, you’d need someone who understands this particular kind of binding."

"How much?"

Vesper gave him a dry look.

"More than you have."

Riven said nothing.

She continued.

"And money isn’t the only problem. Breaking a binding connected directly to your core is dangerous. If the ritual goes wrong, the backlash could damage your mana pathways or destroy your core entirely."

"How likely?"

"I don’t know. I’ve never examined an artifact quite like this before."

She paused, considering her words.

"Someone more experienced might be able to give you better odds. But I wouldn’t trust anyone who promises a painless removal."

Riven looked down at his hands.

He had spent nearly his entire life trying to gain control over his circumstances. First, he had been an orphan. Then a slave. Now he had finally begun making progress as an adventurer, only to end up with an artifact permanently attached to his face.

He had hoped the mask would be something he could use and eventually discard.

Instead, it had become another problem he couldn’t escape.

Vesper watched him quietly for a moment.

"Where did you say you bought it?"

"The Undervault."

She shook her head.

"Those bastards will sell anything if the price is right."

Riven didn’t respond.

"Did the merchant tell you it was cursed?"

"He said he didn’t know of any curse."

Vesper snorted.

"Of course he did."

She returned to her workbench and began putting away the tools she’d used.

"Whatever it is, you’re stuck with it for now. Don’t let anyone experiment on you, and don’t let some back alley mage convince you he can remove it for a handful of silver."

Riven nodded.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not until I understand more about it. I can tell it’s connected to your shadow affinity, but I haven’t figured out the full structure."

She glanced at the mask again.

"Honestly, I’m surprised you can still control your mana normally."

Riven thought about the previous night. His Shadow Veil had become denser, and his Umbral Needle had formed much faster than before.

He decided not to mention the full extent of those changes yet.

"I can still use my magic."

"Good. Keep it that way."

Vesper returned to her work.

Riven turned toward the door.

"Good. Now get out of here. You’re distracting me."

Riven left without another word.

The training yard was quieter than the market.

A few adventurers were practicing with wooden weapons, while others worked on their equipment near the walls. Riven spotted Aiden sitting on a bench, sharpening a short sword.

The old man looked up as he approached.

For a moment, Aiden simply stared.

Then he burst out laughing.

"Well, look at you!"

Riven stopped in front of him.

Aiden stood, still grinning.

"What happened, kid? Did a shadow beast throw up on your face, or did you decide you weren’t ugly enough already?"

Riven glared at him through the narrow openings of the mask.

Aiden laughed even harder.

"Gods, look at that! You even managed to make glaring terrifying."

Riven crossed his arms.

"Are you finished?"

"Not even close."

Aiden walked around him, examining the artifact from different angles.

"Where’d you get it?"

"The Undervault."

"Figures."

Aiden tapped the side of his own jaw.

"Does it come off?"

"No."

"That bad, huh?"

"It fused to my face."

Aiden’s grin faded slightly.

He reached out and placed a hand on Riven’s shoulder, then paused as he sensed something unusual.

His expression changed.

The old adventurer narrowed his remaining eye and focused on the mana surrounding Riven.

There was something strange about it.

Normally, even a person with a relatively small core gave off a faint magical presence. A trained mage could often sense the general strength and nature of someone’s mana without much effort.

But Riven’s presence was difficult to read.

It was as though something was swallowing the energy before it could escape.

Aiden leaned closer.

"Interesting."

Riven looked up at him.

"What?"

"Your mana."

Aiden removed his hand and stepped back.

"I can barely sense it."

"Vesper said something similar."

"Did she now?"

Aiden scratched his beard.

"Well, that’s certainly useful."

Riven waited for him to continue.

Aiden looked at the mask again.

"Don’t get me wrong. You look like a bloody nightmare. If you walked into a tavern wearing that, half the room would probably leave."

"That’s already happening."

Aiden chuckled.

"But from a practical standpoint, hiding your mana signature could be a serious advantage. Especially if you’re dealing with mages who rely on sensing their opponents."

He tapped the side of the mask once.

"Assuming it actually works the way it seems to."

Riven remained silent.

Aiden gave him a thoughtful look.

"Still, I’d be careful. Anything that powerful usually comes with a price."

"It can’t be removed."

Aiden’s expression softened slightly.

"That so?"

"Vesper said someone in a major city might be able to remove it. But there’s a risk if its done wrong."

Aiden was quiet for a moment.

Then he shrugged.

"Well, that’s unfortunate."

Riven stared at him.

"That’s all?"

"What do you want me to say? That everything will be fine? It might not be."

Aiden picked up his whetstone again.

"But you’re alive, and you can still use your magic. That’s what matters right now."

Riven looked away.

He wasn’t sure whether the old man’s words were meant to comfort him or simply state the obvious.

Probably both.

Aiden sat back down.

"Now, are you going to stand there looking like a cursed scarecrow all day, or are you going to train?"

Riven hesitated.

His injuries from the orc had mostly healed, but his body was still recovering. He didn’t want to aggravate them again.

Aiden noticed his hesitation.

"Relax. I’m not asking you to fight a dozen people. Just some basic movement."

Riven nodded.

He spent the next hour practicing footwork and balance while Aiden watched. The mask didn’t interfere with his movements, though Riven occasionally found himself distracted by the strange sensations it produced.

He could sense people moving around him more clearly than before. Even without looking, he could tell when someone approached from behind.

It was useful.

But it was also unsettling.

He had never experienced anything like it.

Eventually, Aiden called an end to the session.

"That’s enough for today. Don’t go getting carried away."

Riven retrieved his equipment and left the yard.

By the time Riven returned to the inn, the sun had begun to set.

He climbed the stairs to his room, closed the door, and locked it.

Only then did he allow himself to relax.

He removed his cloak and placed his equipment beside the bed. The room was quiet, with only the faint sounds of people moving through the inn reaching him from outside.

He had spent the entire day trying to understand what had happened to him.

Vesper had confirmed that the artifact was permanently attached. Aiden had noticed how effectively it concealed his mana. The townspeople had reacted with fear and confusion.

But none of them knew what the mask could actually do.

Riven closed his eyes.

He focused on his core and carefully circulated his mana.

The difference was immediate.

Before the mask, he could feel a faint amount of mana escaping whenever he used his abilities. It was a small leak, but someone with sufficient skill could potentially detect it.

Now, the energy seemed to disappear beneath the mask’s influence.

His mana was still there. He could feel it moving through his body, flowing from his core into his channels.

But the mask concealed the traces it left behind.

It was like pouring water into a sealed container.

Riven opened his eyes.

He reached toward his core again, trying to sense the connection between it and the artifact.

There it was.

A dark thread of mana ran from the mask into his body, branching through his mana pathways before connecting to his core.

He could feel the connection, but he couldn’t understand its structure.

It was far too complicated.

Riven stopped before he could strain himself.

He had no intention of damaging his core just to satisfy his curiosity.

Instead, he decided to test the mask’s other abilities.

He looked around the room.

At first, nothing seemed different. The candle on the small table provided enough light to see the furniture, the bed, and the cracked walls.

Then he focused on the darkness near the corner.

The shadows became clearer.

He could make out the shape of a discarded bucket, the uneven stones beneath it, and even a small crack running along the wall behind it.

He turned toward the window.

The wooden frame was old, and the glass was covered in dust. Beyond it, the last light of the evening was fading.

Yet he could still see the rooftops across the street.

Riven frowned.

He had experienced the mask’s night vision before, but he hadn’t realized how useful it could be.

He looked toward the door.

The sounds of the inn became clearer as he focused.

Footsteps moved through the hallway. Someone laughed downstairs. A door opened and closed.

He could even hear the innkeeper walking across the floor below.

Riven concentrated further.

He could sense the space around him with an unusual degree of precision. The walls, furniture, and doorway seemed to form a clear picture in his mind.

It wasn’t exactly sight.

It was something else.

He could perceive the room without turning his head, almost as though he had developed another sense.

He slowly stood and walked toward the opposite wall.

His hand stopped just short of touching it.

He could tell exactly how far away it was.

Riven stared at his hand.

The mask had given him far more than he had expected.

He wasn’t sure how much of this came from the artifact itself and how much came from his shadow affinity. He would need to experiment further before drawing any conclusions.

For now, he decided to test his magic.

He extended one hand and focused on his core.

Shadow mana gathered in his palm.

Normally, forming an Umbral Needle required concentration. He had spent countless hours learning how to compress the mana into a stable shape.

Now, the process felt almost effortless.

Dark energy gathered around his fingers, condensed, and formed a sharp black spike.

Riven stared at it.

The spell was denser than before.

Its edges were sharper, and the mana seemed more stable. Even without concentrating particularly hard, he could maintain its shape.

He held it for several seconds before dismissing it.

The mana dispersed into the air.

Riven tried again.

This time, he focused on the shape of the spell and carefully increased the amount of mana flowing into it.

The needle grew longer and thicker.

He could feel the strain on his core, but it was manageable.

He stopped before pushing it too far.

The mask had made the spell easier to form, but it hadn’t given him unlimited mana.

He understood that much.

Riven lowered his hand and sat on the bed.

For a while, he simply stared at the dark surface of the mask.

He had bought it because of the abilities the merchant had described. He had expected a useful piece of equipment, perhaps something that would help him survive in the frontier.

He hadn’t expected it to become a permanent part of his body.

Nor had he expected the possibility of removing it to be so dangerous.

He touched its surface again.

Cold.

Hard.

Unmoving.

For now, he would have to live with it.

He thought about the people in the market, the way they had recoiled when they saw him. He thought about Aiden’s reaction and Vesper’s warning.

The mask would make ordinary life difficult.

But it also offered advantages he couldn’t ignore.

It concealed his mana, improved his senses, and strengthened his shadow magic. Those abilities could make the difference between surviving and dying during a dangerous contract.

Riven had learned long ago that survival rarely came without a cost.

He had paid with his freedom when he was enslaved. He had paid with blood when he escaped. And now he had paid with his own face.

He wasn’t happy about it.

But he was still alive.

Riven stood and extinguished the candle.

The room fell into darkness.

Yet he could still see everything.

He looked toward the window, where the last traces of daylight had disappeared.

Then he turned toward the door.

Tomorrow, he would return to the Guild. He would continue training, take contracts when he was ready, and learn everything he could about the artifact now bound to him.

He couldn’t change what had happened.

But he could decide what to do with it.

Riven pulled his hood over his head and sat back down on the bed.

Let them stare. Let them whisper.

He had survived worse than a few frightened townspeople.

And if the mask was going to remain part of him, then he would make sure it became another tool he could use to survive.