The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

Anser suddenly turned around. Behind him, a spellbook was actually floating in the air. Perched atop it was the phantom image of a cat, entirely pitch-black, tilting its head as it looked at him.

”Who are you?” he asked in alarm.

The black cat whooshed into the spellbook and vanished without a trace.

”Uh…” Anser stared at the spellbook hovering before him, not daring to touch it.

The die spun rapidly. Only after quite a while did it detect a fragment of information:

[Book of Castella]—only a name.

’Could it be a relic left behind by the former owner?’

The astrolabe ritual array was not only the control hub but also a meditation chamber. It would be perfectly normal for the previous owner to have left some belongings here.

At that thought, he became even more hesitant to touch it. He immediately activated the Rod of Security and returned to the second underground level.

’Could it be that black cat that’s been controlling the Shield Guardian to go out and scout? Something like a spirit essence or a soul?’ he pondered.

”Where did you just go?” Bratt asked.

”Underground.” Anser did not elaborate.

The matter of surveillance could not be made known to others. There was no benefit in doing so—only suspicion.

The group continued exploring the second underground level and discovered that it was a prison. Most of the cells were empty; in a few, only skeletal remains were left—some humanoid, some monstrous.

Bratt looked somewhat disappointed. A half-construct Shield Guardian and six animated brooms seemed unworthy of such a mysterious wizard tower.

”It’s already very good.” What Anser valued was this place itself.

”Mm. Do you have some new plan?” Bratt probed.

”With disasters occurring frequently and the situation in chaos, I’m preparing to establish an organization…” Anser slowly laid out his vision.

This organization would inevitably be centered on him, helping him grow and advance, providing all kinds of support—intelligence, funding, logistics—and capable of handling combat missions of a certain scale.

His foremost goal was to reach Legend. Money, influence, and indulgence were also indispensable, but they would come afterward.

Bratt and the others exchanged glances, a few traces of excitement appearing in their eyes.

In Faerûn, the strong are revered. Following the strong is instinctive for everyone—and even a blind man could see Anser’s potential.

Bratt and Finn had more than once worried that they had already become the weak link of the team, able to offer Anser only limited help, yet uncertain of what path they themselves should take.

”I think the development model of landed nobility is very suitable. The subjects pledge loyalty to you; you provide protection; they pay taxes, farm, fish, trade…” Bratt had never felt his mind so clear.

Other organizational models each had their own drawbacks.

The Harpers are united by shared ideals and receive almost no pay.

The Shadow Thieves have a strict structure and are sustained by money; in the early stages, they require great effort and a substantial financial investment.

Commercial teams and guilds were also far too loose. A warband was not a bad option, but everyone had to be paid—when there was nothing to do, were they supposed to go work as mercenaries?

By comparison, the noble model was more suitable.

With this Spatial Paradise so far from the chaos of war, recruiting people would be effortless. Even professional adventurers would want a stable place to live.

As long as the paradise’s ecology was improved a bit, farming and fishing alone would be enough to support several thousand people.

With logistics in place, they could sustain administrators and combat personnel, gradually expand, and then find a few reliable managers—there would be no need for Anser to worry about it at all.

First, he truly did not understand operations and management; second, he did not want to spend his energy on these trivial matters.

He was a spellcaster possessing extraordinary might, so there was no need to worry too much about someone seizing power.

The group discussed things enthusiastically, their ideas growing more and more.

”Why don’t we rename this place Holrewen, improve the ecology first, and when we reach a safe place, establish outposts in various regions and connect inside and out,” Bratt suggested.

Holrewen was Anser’s surname, making it more suitable than Spatial Paradise.

”No problem.” Anser patted Bratt on the shoulder, his expression solemn. ”Since you’re willing to follow me, I appoint you as Holrewen’s first Governor, with full authority to handle territorial affairs. Giant Tail and Finn will still follow me.”

”I’ll do everything I can.” Bratt straightened his back, smiling broadly.

Only a fool would refuse. Compared with his original position as captain of the harbor hospital guard team, this was practically a leap to the heavens.

Having subordinates under him to manage a mysterious extradimensional space—just thinking about it made him excited.

”No rush. Let’s go back and eat first, then move.”

”Go, go, go—I can’t wait!”

Before leaving, Anser separated the six animated brooms and threw them onto the first floor and the fourth floor, letting them clean for now. The first floor was the façade, and the fourth floor was for lodging—both were important.

Back at the villa, the food on the dining table was all cold.

But no one minded. After hastily eating a meal, they took all their belongings and entered Spatial Paradise again—or rather, Holrewen.

Nornoth and the Microraptor Cowlick came in as well.

When needed, Anser could summon Nornoth out at any time; even if the holy symbol was lost, it would not matter.

As for Cowlick, it was obedient, but without telepathic communication it was not very useful.

The group went up to the fourth floor, planning to clean this level first. One room per person—temporarily they could not live here long-term, but they could store personal items or supplies and the like.

Anser chose a room as well. He had quite a few magic items on him, and carrying them around was indeed inconvenient.

While the others cleaned their rooms, he focused on exploring the mysteries of the black tower.

Aside from surveillance, the wizard tower’s water supply and drainage system and its authority recognition function were still working.

Between the tower’s levels were multiple water storage chambers. They could automatically draw in groundwater and rainwater, purify it, then pressurize it into the pipes to supply the entire tower.

Authority recognition relied entirely on the paradise mark; without it, there were many places one could not enter.

The black tower appeared to have no windows—and in fact, it truly had none—but as long as one possessed the paradise mark, it was possible to turn part of the walls one-way transparent and overlook the entire sea island.

Aside from that, almost all of the black tower’s other functions were disabled—there were no alarms, no magical defenses, and no offensive capabilities.

’Getting a sea island for free—I can’t ask for more.’ Anser was quite content.

Time in the extradimensional space was consistent with the outside world, but there was no sun, moon, or stars. At night the sky grew dimmer, yet visibility remained.

...

Late at night, Anser returned to the villa with Giant Tail and Finn. He needed to meditate.

The black tower could not be lived in for now. He felt a faint unease, worried that one day he might not be able to come out.

Moreover, in the extradimensional space there was no way to know what was happening outside. If he stepped out the next morning only to find enemies all around, wouldn’t that be disastrous?

At midnight, to the north of Bluewater City, small, squat figures began to appear in clusters. Thin, incessant barking echoed without end.

They gradually gathered around Bluewater City and Antak City, neither too close nor too far. Though there was no real formation to speak of, their numbers were sufficient.

The soldiers defending the city had never seen such a scene before. Many, upon seeing pairs of glowing eyes in the night, were scared stiff.

Fish-men from Claw Bay also climbed onto the docks, and their numbers were not small.

Shrill alarm bells rang out along the city walls, jolting the sleeping populace awake. Lights flickered on one by one; squads of warriors climbed to the battlements, and the city suddenly became clamorous.

At a certain moment, a dragon’s roar tore through the night.

Upon hearing it, the kobolds and fish-men moved simultaneously, carrying crude siege equipment as they charged toward the walls.

After a brief moment of panic, the human side immediately launched a counterattack. With the advantage of the walls and their weapons, their killing efficiency was high—no enemy managed to climb the walls successfully.

At present, Bluewater City had at least tens of thousands of people, gathering one-third of the elite forces of the Claw city-state. They lacked nothing; resisting these ”weakling” alien races was indeed not difficult.

At Tim’s small manor, the reception hall was brightly lit.

Anser, Giant Tail, Tim, and Sandray sat on sofas, drinking tea to stay alert.

”An attack of this intensity can’t do anything to us. It’s probably just a probe. You should go back and rest,” Tim said calmly.

”Don’t let your guard down. Those dragonborn, wyverns, and half-dragons might be hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance,” Anser reminded him.

He had rested for half the night and was in fairly good condition.

”Don’t worry. We’ve never let our guard down.” Tim gulped down a mouthful of tea, bitterness rising in his heart.

He had already lost his cliff fortress—how could he possibly underestimate the enemy? Moreover, Bluewater City’s walls were far inferior to those of the cliff fortress; the defensive advantage was not nearly as great.

At that moment, another dragon’s cry rang out above Bluewater City.

This time it was different from before. The sound was sonorous and forceful, the echo lingering long; an inexplicable trace of fear rose in many hearts.

”A true dragon!” Anser’s expression changed abruptly.

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