Chapter 56: Anchor

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: Anchor

"He who loves practice without theory is like the sailor who boards ship without rudder and compass." — Leonardo da Vinci

The pale, cold light of dawn was just beginning to bleed over the jagged silhouettes of the monolith ruins when Riven arrived.

The forest behind him was still dark, and a thin layer of frost covered the grass surrounding the ancient structure. His boots crunched against the frozen ground as he made his way toward the central chamber.

The dense, void aspected core of the Gloom Stalker rested inside his spatial belt, along with the creature’s harvested claws and hide. The hunt had gone well. He had tracked the beast without relying on his sight, avoided its first attack, and killed it with a single well placed spell.

He had expected at least a little acknowledgment from Garreth.

Perhaps a nod of approval. Maybe even a few words recognizing that the previous night’s training had paid off.

Instead, he found the former knight sitting on a fallen pillar, sharpening a notched steel dagger.

The steady scrape of metal against stone echoed through the ruins.

"You killed a blind cat in the dark by letting it stumble into your trap," Garreth rasped without looking up. "You survived because it made the first mistake and you didn’t panic. That makes you competent for a child. It does not make you a shadow knight."

Riven stopped.

His jaw tightened beneath the obsidian half mask.

He had expected criticism from Garreth. The man rarely praised anything, and even when Riven managed to do something correctly, he usually found another dozen things to complain about.

But dismissing the entire hunt as luck was irritating.

Riven stepped forward and dropped the heavy canvas sack containing the Gloom Stalker’s harvested claws onto the stone floor.

The sack landed with a dull thud.

"I tracked it without sight, predicted its movement, and executed the kill cleanly. Exactly like you drilled into me."

Garreth continued sharpening the dagger.

"Did you?"

Riven stared at him.

"Yes."

"Then tell me what you would’ve done if it hadn’t attacked."

Riven opened his mouth but hesitated.

Garreth finally stopped sharpening the blade. He rested it across his knee and raised his steel grey eyes.

"What would’ve happened if the creature had stayed hidden? What if it had circled around you until you were exhausted? What if it had decided to attack from above instead of charging straight at you?"

Riven frowned.

"I would’ve sensed it."

"Would you?"

"I"

"You reacted," Garreth interrupted flatly. "You waited for the disturbance, dodged out of the way, and punished an overextended lunge. That is baseline survival."

He set the dagger aside and stood.

"What happens when your enemy doesn’t lunge? What happens when they control the spatial geometry around you and dictate where you can and cannot breathe?"

Riven remained silent.

He understood the point, even if he didn’t particularly like it.

The beast had been dangerous, but its attack had been straightforward. It had approached, struck, and left itself vulnerable when its claws missed.

Riven had taken advantage of that mistake.

But what if his opponent could prevent him from moving altogether?

His Shadow Leap depended on finding a stable spatial anchor. If someone could interfere with that anchor, he might be left with no way to escape.

And if he couldn’t escape, his other abilities might not be enough to save him.

Garreth rolled his heavy shoulders.

"Drop the short sword."

Riven glanced down at the weapon hanging from his hip.

"Why?"

"Because you’re not going to need it."

Garreth gestured toward the flagstones.

"Today, we stop dodging. Today, you learn how to tear apart an incoming spatial anchor before it even touches you."

Riven stared at him.

A knot of frustration tightened in his chest. He had spent the previous night hunting a dangerous monster, and now Garreth was already moving on to something else.

Still, he unbuckled his scabbard and let it slide to the ground.

The former knight nodded toward the center of the chamber.

"Position yourself there."

Riven walked between the broken pillars and stopped in the middle of the open space.

Garreth moved away, putting roughly twenty paces between them. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, dull iron weight.

It was about the size of a fist, with a few dents along its surface.

Riven watched him carefully.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"I’m going to throw this across your path. While it’s in the air, I’ll anchor a localized spatial distortion around it."

Garreth held the weight between two fingers.

"Your objective isn’t to dodge it. Your objective is to reach out with your core, find the friction point of my mana, and shatter the spatial lock before the weight hits the ground."

Riven furrowed his brow.

"Shatter a spatial lock? I barely know how to maintain my own Shadow Leap without destabilizing my core."

"Then you’d better learn quickly."

Garreth’s expression remained cold.

Riven glanced at the iron weight.

He understood how spatial magic worked in theory. At least, he understood the basic principles. His Shadow Leap allowed him to fold space between two points, but he still relied heavily on the mask to help him find suitable destinations.

Garreth, on the other hand, could manipulate the space around him with frightening precision.

He could disrupt Riven’s spells, interfere with his movements, and seemingly create invisible barriers whenever he pleased.

Now he wanted Riven to break one of those barriers.

Riven wasn’t sure where to begin.

"Before we start," Riven said, "what exactly is spatial magic doing? I know how to use Shadow Leap, but I don’t really understand what’s happening."

Garreth gave him a brief, unimpressed look.

"At its simplest, spatial magic lets you change the space between things. Your Shadow Leap folds the distance between you and a destination, allowing you to cross it almost instantly."

"So I’m not actually moving faster?"

"No. You’re changing the distance you have to travel. That’s why you can cover ten paces in a blink."

Riven considered that for a moment.

"And the anchor?"

"An anchor is what gives your spell a fixed point to work with. When you use Shadow Leap, you need somewhere to arrive. Your mask helps you find that place and keeps your spell from collapsing before you reach it."

Garreth picked up the iron weight and held it out.

"Other spatial mages can use anchors to do more than move themselves. They can lock down an area, redirect movement, or make it difficult for someone to reach a particular place."

Riven looked at the weight.

"So if someone anchors the space around me, I might not be able to Shadow Leap out?"

"Correct. They could trap you in place, disrupt your destination, or force you to appear somewhere you don’t want to be. Against someone who understands spatial magic, your usual escape won’t always work."

Riven’s fingers curled slightly.

"Then learning to break their anchors would let me escape?"

"Sometimes. It could also stop an enemy from controlling the battlefield in the first place." Garreth’s expression hardened. "If you can interfere with their spell, you can take away their advantage. But don’t mistake that for being able to cancel every spatial spell you encounter."

Riven nodded slowly. He was beginning to understand why Garreth had been so insistent.

His Shadow Leap was useful, but it depended on space behaving in a way he could work with. If an opponent could change those rules, he would need another way to respond.

Garreth didn’t give him time to think.

Without another word, he flicked his wrist.

The iron weight shot through the air in a swift, low arc.

Riven immediately expanded his awareness.

He felt the movement before he fully registered it with his eyes. The weight disturbed the air as it passed, creating a faint ripple in the surrounding mana.

Then he felt something else.

A sharp snap of pressure.

Garreth’s mana had wrapped around the object, forming a localized spatial lock. The weight’s movement suddenly became unnatural, as though the space surrounding it had thickened.

Riven could feel the distortion.

He could even sense the point where Garreth’s mana connected to the surrounding space.

But he didn’t know what to do with it.

Instinct took over.

He threw both hands forward and pushed raw shadow mana out from his core, attempting to overpower the foreign magic.

The two forces collided.

CRACK!

A violent backdraft slammed into Riven’s chest.

He was thrown backward, his feet leaving the ground as he crashed onto the stone floor. The impact knocked the air from his lungs.

He coughed, struggling to breathe.

The iron weight struck a nearby pillar and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

For several seconds, Riven remained on his back, staring up at the pale morning sky.

His chest burned.

His core throbbed with a hot, stinging ache, and the mana he had forced outward felt scattered and unstable.

Garreth didn’t move to help him.

"Too slow!"

His voice boomed across the chamber.

"You’re trying to block it with brute force like a clumsy bruiser!"

Riven gritted his teeth and rolled onto his side.

"Space isn’t a wall, boy! It’s a fabric. You don’t punch through fabric. You find the seam and pull it apart!"

Garreth picked up the iron weight and returned to his starting position.

"Get up. Again."

Riven wiped a speck of dirt from his mask and pushed himself to his feet.

His chest still hurt, but he forced himself to straighten.

He wasn’t going to complain.

He had already learned that Garreth wouldn’t accept excuses.

Instead, he tried to understand what had gone wrong.

He had felt the distortion forming around the weight. He had sensed the foreign mana spreading through the air, and he had even identified the general location of the spatial lock.

But the moment he tried to interfere, he had simply pushed his own mana against it.

He had treated Garreth’s spell like a wall.

And the collision had nearly knocked him unconscious.

Riven took a slow breath.

’Find the seam.’

He tried to picture what Garreth had done.

The spatial lock wasn’t a solid object. It was a distortion created by mana, something that altered the way space behaved around the weight.

If he could sense where that mana connected to the surrounding space, perhaps he could interfere with it directly.

But how?

He had no idea.

"Ready?" Garreth asked.

Riven raised his hands.

"Again."

Garreth tossed the weight.

This time, Riven didn’t immediately attack.

He focused on the distortion as it formed, trying to separate Garreth’s mana from the surrounding space.

For a brief moment, he felt something.

A thin point of resistance.

It was almost like a knot in a piece of rope, hidden beneath layers of tangled fibers.

Riven reached toward it with his mana.

The spatial lock shuddered.

Then his concentration slipped.

The distortion snapped back into place, and the weight struck the ground.

Garreth looked at him.

"Better."

Riven lowered his hands, breathing heavily.

He had barely done anything, but it was the first time he had managed to interfere with the spell without being thrown backward.

"Again," Garreth said.

Riven nodded.

The exercise continued throughout the morning.

Garreth threw the iron weight from different angles, changing its speed and trajectory each time. Sometimes he formed the spatial lock immediately. Other times, he waited until the weight was already halfway through its flight.

Riven struggled to keep up.

At first, he couldn’t sense the distortion quickly enough. By the time he found the point where Garreth’s mana connected to the surrounding space, the weight had already struck the ground.

When he did manage to find it, he often pushed too much mana into the interference and destabilized his own core.

Each failure brought another correction from Garreth.

"You’re chasing the mana instead of finding its anchor."

"Stop forcing your core to do everything."

"You’re sensing the distortion, not understanding it."

"Again."

Riven’s frustration grew with every failed attempt.

He had become accustomed to improving through repetition. Swordsmanship had been difficult, but he could at least understand the relationship between his movements and the results.

If his stance was wrong, he could correct it.

If his strike was too slow, he could practice until it became faster.

Spatial magic was different.

He couldn’t see the structure of the spell, and he couldn’t simply force his way through it.

He had to understand something he could barely perceive.

After another failed attempt, Riven stumbled backward and caught himself against a pillar.

His core ached.

He could feel the strain spreading through his mana channels, and the familiar pressure behind his eyes was beginning to build.

Garreth noticed.

"Stop."

Riven looked up.

"I can keep going."

"I didn’t ask."

Garreth walked toward him and held out a hand.

Riven hesitated before accepting it. The older man pulled him upright with little effort.

"Your mana control is getting sloppy. If you keep forcing it, you’ll injure yourself."

Riven looked away.

He hated stopping when he hadn’t accomplished anything.

But he knew Garreth was right. He had already experienced what happened when he pushed his core too far.

"Take a few minutes," Garreth ordered.

Riven sat on a fallen block of stone.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, allowing the strain in his core to settle.

The morning wind passed through the ruins, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth.

Garreth returned to his pillar and picked up the dagger he had been sharpening earlier.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Riven gradually regained his composure.

He thought about the previous night’s hunt and the way he had sensed the Gloom Stalker’s movement.

He hadn’t tried to overpower the creature. He had waited, recognized the disturbance, and moved at the right moment.

Perhaps the same principle applied here.

He didn’t need to overpower Garreth’s spell.

He needed to understand it.

Riven opened his eyes.

"Can you show me the anchor again?"

Garreth looked up from his dagger.

"What?"

"The point where your mana connects to the space around the weight. I want to feel it without trying to break it."

Garreth studied him for a moment.

Then he stood.

"Get up."

Riven rose from the stone block.

Garreth placed the iron weight on the ground between them.

"Pay attention."

He extended one hand.

The air around the weight began to distort.

Riven immediately expanded his awareness, focusing on the faint pressure spreading through the chamber.

This time, he didn’t try to interfere.

He simply observed.

The distortion felt different from the surrounding mana. It had a distinct structure, with several points of tension holding it in place.

One point stood out more clearly than the others.

Riven focused on it.

"There," he murmured.

Garreth glanced at him.

"Where?"

"Near the bottom. There’s something holding the distortion together."

Garreth didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he slowly released the spell.

The pressure vanished.

"That’s the anchor."

Riven looked down at the weight.

He had found it.

Not by chance, but by paying attention to the structure of the spell.

It was a small discovery, but it was the first time he had understood what Garreth wanted him to sense.

"Now try to break it."

Riven raised his hand.

Garreth formed the spatial lock again.

Riven reached out with his mana, searching for the point he had just identified.

He found it.

Then he carefully applied pressure.

The anchor trembled.

Riven felt resistance push back against his mana, but he didn’t try to overpower it. Instead, he focused on the connection itself, attempting to disrupt the structure holding the distortion together.

For a brief moment, the spatial lock weakened.

The iron weight shifted slightly.

Then the connection snapped back into place.

Riven staggered, but he remained standing.

The weight dropped to the ground.

He stared at it.

He hadn’t broken the lock.

But he had weakened it.

Garreth folded his arms.

"That’s what you should have been doing from the beginning."

Riven looked at him.

"How am I supposed to break it completely?"

"By learning how it works."

Garreth picked up the weight.

"You’ve spent months learning how to use your magic. Now you’re going to learn how to interfere with someone else’s."

He tossed the weight back into his pocket.

"Tomorrow, we’ll continue."

Riven frowned.

"That’s it?"

"For today."

Garreth turned away.

"Your core is already strained, and you’re making less progress with every attempt. There’s no point in continuing until you’ve recovered."

Riven didn’t argue.

He was exhausted, and his chest still hurt from the first collision.

But despite the frustration, he felt a small spark of satisfaction.

For the first time, he had managed to interfere with Garreth’s spatial magic without simply throwing mana at it.

He had found the anchor.

He had weakened it.

It wasn’t much, but it was a beginning.

Riven retrieved his short sword and secured it at his hip.

Garreth watched him prepare to leave.

"One more thing."

Riven stopped.

"Don’t confuse learning to break a spatial lock with being able to break every spell you encounter. Different mages use different structures. Some will be much harder to interfere with than others."

Riven nodded.

"I understand."

"Good. Then don’t get yourself killed thinking you can tear apart anything that comes your way."

Riven turned toward the exit.

"I’ll try not to."

Garreth gave a quiet snort.

"See that you do."

Riven walked out of the ruins and into the cold morning air.

His chest still ached, and his core felt tender from the repeated strain. The exercise had been far more difficult than he expected.

But he had learned something important.

Until now, he had treated spatial magic as a way to move himself from one place to another.

Garreth was teaching him to understand the space itself.

And if he could master that, he might finally be able to fight opponents who could shut down his greatest advantage.

For now, though, he had to settle for finding the seam.

Tomorrow, he would try to tear it apart.