Chapter 60: Years

Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Years

"Difficulties strengthen the mind, as labor does the body." — Seneca

The freezing dawn wind howled through the fractured pillars of the monolith ruins, carrying the biting chill of the frontier.

A heavy, metallic sound cut through the air.

From thirty paces away, a spatial compression blade hurtled through the gray morning light like a streak of distorted glass.

Riven moved.

He didn’t turn his head.

He didn’t need to.

His compact body shifted with explosive speed.

The blade passed through the space where his chest had been a moment earlier.

A dark figure remained behind.

An afterimage.

For less than a second, it looked almost solid.

Then the compression blade struck it.

The figure shattered.

Black smoke erupted across the ruins.

Riven appeared several yards away.

His boots touched the frost covered stone without making a sound.

Phantom Step had worked.

Barely.

His core pulsed hard beneath his ribs.

Riven exhaled slowly.

The dark sheen covering his skin faded slightly.

Vantablack Shroud had consumed most of the morning light around him, making his body difficult to distinguish from the surrounding shadows.

It wasn’t simply Shadow Veil anymore.

It had evolved.

Instead of coating his weapon, Riven had learned to apply the shadow mana directly to his skin.

It absorbed light.

It distorted his outline.

More importantly, it could deflect weaker physical impacts.

But the technique was still imperfect.

Holding it over his entire body required constant control.

One lapse in concentration could cause the shroud to collapse.

Riven didn’t get the chance to think about it for long.

Another distortion formed.

He felt it before he saw it.

The space in front of him compressed.

Riven vanished.

A second blade tore through the ruins.

He reappeared behind a broken pillar.

No sound.

No wasted movement.

His breathing remained steady.

Across the ruined courtyard, Garreth stood beside a sputtering campfire.

His arms were crossed.

His steel gray eyes followed Riven carefully.

He had not moved once.

"Again."

Riven looked toward him.

Garreth raised one hand.

Another spatial blade formed.

Riven immediately crouched.

The projectile launched.

He stepped.

Shadow gathered beneath his feet.

The world folded.

Riven disappeared.

The blade passed through empty air.

He emerged several yards away.

This time, there was no afterimage.

Garreth’s expression didn’t change.

"Better."

Riven looked toward him.

"That’s all?"

"You want praise?"

"No."

"Good."

Garreth raised his hand again.

Riven’s shoulders dropped.

"Again."

Riven clenched his sword.

Three years.

Three years of this.

Thirty six months of training beneath the ruined monolith.

Thirty six months of Garreth finding increasingly creative ways to make his life miserable.

Riven had learned very quickly that being Garreth’s student meant there was always another weakness to fix.

If his footwork improved, Garreth attacked his balance.

If his swordsmanship improved, Garreth removed his sword.

If his Shadow Leap became faster, Garreth began placing spatial anchors around the battlefield.

If Riven learned to break those anchors, Garreth began changing their locations.

If Riven became comfortable fighting in darkness, Garreth took away his sight.

If Riven became comfortable relying on sound, Garreth took away that too.

Everything had become a lesson.

Everything had become another opportunity to fail.

And Riven had failed thousands of times.

But he had also learned.

When he had first met Garreth, he had been six years old.

Small.

Weak.

An F Rank adventurer with a little understanding of Shadow magic and almost no real understanding of combat.

He had possessed talent.

Garreth had made sure talent wasn’t enough.

Years of conditioning had transformed Riven’s body.

He was still small compared to grown adults, but there was nothing fragile about him anymore.

His frame had become broader.

His shoulders were stronger.

His legs had muscle from years of footwork drills, running, jumping, and spatial compression exercises.

He could accelerate almost instantly.

He could stop just as quickly.

His balance had become instinctive.

Even his breathing had changed.

Garreth had taught him to control every breath during combat.

No wasted movement.

No unnecessary tension.

No panic.

Riven had also changed outside of training.

He ate far better now.

Monster meat, grains, vegetables, eggs, and anything else he could afford.

Monster cores had become another source of income.

His body had grown because he finally had the food necessary to support it.

His mind had grown with it.

He was no longer simply surviving.

He was building himself.

And Garreth had become more than a trainer during those years.

He had become his mentor.

His teacher.

In some ways, the closest thing Riven had to family.

Garreth never said that.

Riven never asked.

Neither of them needed to.

"You’re thinking too much."

Riven looked up.

Garreth was staring directly at him.

"I wasn’t."

"You were."

"I was thinking about training."

"That’s thinking."

Garreth raised his hand.

"Focus."

Riven sighed.

The next spatial blade appeared.

This time, Riven didn’t dodge immediately.

He watched it.

Not the blade itself.

The distortion surrounding it.

The spatial structure.

The anchor.

His eyes narrowed.

He could feel the weak point.

Not literally.

He could feel it.

The blade wasn’t simply moving through space.

It was dragging a compressed section of space with it.

That was what made Garreth’s attacks so difficult to dodge.

Riven waited until the final moment.

Then he moved.

Shadow covered his body.

The Vantablack Shroud absorbed the light around him.

His body shifted.

The blade missed.

Riven performed Phantom step.

For an instant, an afterimage appeared behind him.

The blade struck it.

The afterimage absorbed the remaining force.

Then Riven Shadow Leaped.

He appeared beside Garreth.

His sword was already drawn.

Garreth caught the blade between two fingers.

Riven froze.

Garreth looked at him.

"Better."

Riven pulled his sword back.

"You’re impossible."

"You’re alive."

"That’s not the same thing."

Garreth almost smiled.

Almost.

"Again."

Riven groaned.

The training continued until the sun was fully above the horizon.

By then, frost had melted across the stones.

Riven stood breathing heavily.

His arms were tired.

His core felt warm.

But he was smiling.

Three years ago, he couldn’t have imagined reaching this point.

His old Shadow Veil had become something much more refined.

Umbral Needle was now second nature.

Shadow Leap required almost no conscious thought.

His swordsmanship had reached a level where experienced adventurers could no longer dismiss him simply because of his age.

And Phantom Step was beginning to become reliable.

Not perfect.

But reliable.

Then there was Disturb Magic.

That technique had taken the longest.

Garreth had spent years teaching him how spells were connected to their caster.

Every spell required a flow of mana.

Every spell had a structure, an anchor.

Every structure had points where it could be disrupted.

Riven had learned to identify those points.

Then attack them.

Garreth had eventually given the technique its proper name.

Disturb Magic.

It was unknown to most.

It wasn’t a simple attack.

It was a disruption technique.

A skilled user could interfere with an opponent’s spellcasting conduit and break their spell before it finished forming.

But the technique was extremely difficult.

It consumed a large amount of mana.

It required precise timing.

And if Riven misjudged the spell structure, the backlash could hurt him instead.

Garreth had told him only a small number of people could use it effectively.

Shadow affinity made it possible.

But that didn’t mean every Shadow mage could learn it.

Most couldn’t.

Garreth had also finally told Riven why he knew so much about it.

The revelation had come nearly a year earlier.

They had been sitting beside the same campfire.

Garreth had been sharpening a knife.

Riven had been studying a spatial anchor.

"Where did you learn all this?"

Garreth had been silent for a long time.

Then he answered.

"Estar."

Riven had looked up.

"Estar Academy?"

"Yes."

Riven knew the name.

Everyone did.

Estar Academy was one of the most prestigious institutions in the realm.

It wasn’t simply a school.

It was where the children of the greatest noble families were sent.

Royal heirs.

Dukes.

Marquises.

Exceptional prodigies.

People who had been trained in magic and combat since birth.

Garreth had once been one of them.

But he hadn’t graduated.

He had been expelled.

Disgraced.

Garreth never gave Riven the full story.

Whenever Riven asked, he simply said the same thing.

"I made a mistake."

That was all.

But Riven understood enough.

Garreth had learned techniques at Estar that most people would never encounter.

And when he was kicked out he learned more while becoming a shadow knight, an order that no longer exists.

Techniques like Disturb Magic.

The academy had given him knowledge.

The world had taken everything else.

Now he passed that knowledge to Riven.

A shadow knight who had learned from a man who no longer had a kingdom.

It was an unusual inheritance.

But Riven didn’t care.

It was useful.

That was enough.

Riven closed his eyes.

He focused inward.

The familiar cognitive interface of his core appeared before his mind.

For a moment, the information remained completely still.

Then the display settled into place.

Name: Riven

Age: 9

Rank: D+

Core: Tier 3

Affinity: Shadow

Skills

Shadow Veil: 100%: Mastered

Umbral Needle: 100%: Mastered

Shadow Leap: 100%: Mastered

Vantablack Shroud: 74%: Developing

Phantom Step: 61%: Developing

Disturb Magic: 48%: Developing

Acoustic Dampening: 88%: Developing

Advanced Swordplay: 79% Developing

Riven stared at the numbers for a moment.

Three years ago, almost everything on that list had been either nonexistent or barely developed.

Now three of his techniques had reached mastery.

His Shadow Leap was completely natural.

His Umbral Needle required almost no conscious thought.

His old Shadow Veil had become something he could activate instantly.

But the newer techniques were different.

Vantablack Shroud still demanded concentration.

Phantom Step was even worse.

The technique required him to create a dense afterimage at the exact moment he displaced himself.

If the timing was wrong, the afterimage collapsed too early.

If he used too much mana, the technique became wasteful.

If he used too little, it failed completely.

Disturb Magic was the most dangerous of all.

Forty eight percent.

Not even halfway mastered.

Riven wasn’t satisfied.

But Garreth had taught him something important.

Progress wasn’t always measured by how quickly a technique reached one hundred percent.

Sometimes surviving long enough to improve was progress by itself.

The interface faded.

Riven opened his eyes.

Garreth was watching him.

"Checking your numbers again?"

Riven nodded.

"Yes."

"Stop obsessing over them."

"They tell me what I need to improve."

"They tell you what the system thinks you need to improve."

Garreth turned toward the campfire.

"There’s a difference."

Riven considered that.

He couldn’t entirely disagree.

Garreth reached into his heavy leather coat.

Then tossed something toward Riven.

Riven caught it.

A wax sealed contract.

He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.

His eyes moved across the page.

C Rank Contract.

A rogue spellcaster.

Working for a corrupt syndicate.

Located somewhere in the lower Undervault.

Multiple disappearances.

Illegal spell experiments.

Possible civilian casualties.

Riven’s expression hardened.

Garreth watched him.

"Time to see if all that sweat in the dirt amounts to anything."

Riven looked up.

Garreth’s voice remained dry and gravelly.

"A rogue spellcaster working for a corrupt syndicate in the lower Undervault thinks a nine year old is easy coin."

Garreth paused.

A faint smirk appeared.

Riven folded the contract.

His fingers rested against the hilt of his shortsword.

For three years, he had trained in these ruins.

Three years of blood.

Pain.

Failure.

Discipline.

He had entered the Undervault as a frightened six year old trying to survive.

Now he was nine.

A D+ Rank adventurer.

A Tier 3 Shadow core.

Garreth’s official apprentice.

And for the first time, Riven wasn’t walking into the Undervault simply because he needed money.

He was walking in because he wanted to know what he had become.

Darkness gathered around his body.

The Vantablack Shroud flickered into existence.

Garreth watched silently.

Riven stepped toward the ruins’ exit.

His boots made no sound.

Garreth followed.

Neither spoke as they disappeared into the freezing morning.

The next lesson would not be a training exercise.

It would be real.

And this time, someone was waiting for him.