The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

[Target killed. Gained 7,159 experience points. Level up!]

’As expected, that wasn’t an ordinary drider. Its Challenge Rating was at least 13 or higher.’ A sharp gleam flashed in Anser’s eyes.

Thanks to Mason and Valera, the drider had already been greatly weakened after such a long battle. Only then had a single Maximized Disintegrate been enough to erase it.

The scene was truly shocking.

What had appeared moments ago was the modified version of Disguise Self attached to the Magic Research Society identity badge.

A fake made real.

After activating it, Anser allowed the illusion to take his place and suffer the attack while his real body turned invisible. At the critical moment, he delivered a fatal blow to the drider.

Because it had been cast instantly, many people saw the spell first before realizing that he hadn’t died at all.

Of course, this couldn’t fool fellow members of the Magic Research Society like Mason and Jiandar, nor could it fool the drow matron mother.

Under most circumstances, spellcasters possess a clear awareness of spells they themselves cast, especially concentration spells.

The moment Anser broke free from Hold Person, the matron mother had undoubtedly sensed it. But Mason’s coordinated assault left her with no time to warn her subordinate.

That brief delay was all it took.

Her strongest ally was gone.

Unless the matron mother possessed either True Resurrection or Wish, there was no way she could bring back a drider that had been erased so completely that not even a strand of hair remained.

”She’s trying to escape!” Valera suddenly shouted, pointing toward the matron mother.

Anser turned his head just in time to catch a fading streak of light.

In the next instant, the matron mother appeared far away, then vanished from sight together with the dozen or so drow who had somehow gathered around her.

Gone without a trace.

’Plane Shift?’ Anser let out a sigh and looked toward Valera.

They were both Chosen.

Why was the difference between them so huge?

”I didn’t prepare Forbiddance, and... there wasn’t enough time.” Valera spoke timidly. Combined with the bloodstains covering her body, she looked pitifully vulnerable.

Without a word, Mason turned and began hunting down the fleeing survivors, his expression grim and unreadable.

Anser hurried after him, though his Magic Power was nearly exhausted. All he could do now was use cantrips to finish off wounded enemies.

After the remaining twenty-odd drow had all fallen, he gained another thousand or so experience points, which barely eased his disappointment.

Silence gradually settled over the battlefield.

Drow corpses lay scattered across several miles.

A trace of sorrow appeared on Valera’s face as she led her dozen remaining subordinates in searching for the wounded, hoping that some survivors might still be found.

”We really have you to thank today.” Jiandar walked over and stood beside him, gazing across the battlefield with a look of admiration.

”It’s a shame we couldn’t keep her here.” Anser had known from the beginning that the chances were slim, but it still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

”Heh, you’ve got some ambitious ideas.” Jiandar couldn’t help laughing.

Mason had thought the same thing at first.

And what was the result?

Turning his head, Jiandar looked toward the other side of the battlefield, where Mason was inspecting the damage sustained by the iron golems.

Five constructs had entered the battle.

Two had been destroyed—a Shield Guardian and a stone golem.

The remaining three were all heavily damaged and would require extensive repairs.

No wonder the Magic Research Society had been reluctant to get involved in this affair.

It was a thankless task.

The Chosen of Lolth was far stronger than anyone had imagined. Even someone as proud as Mason had been beaten into submission.

”Even if we’d sealed the space in advance, we might not have won. Maybe having Lolth’s Chosen alive is actually more beneficial to us.” Jiandar patted Anser on the shoulder and walked away.

Anser looked up at the sky and forced out a dry smile.

”Who knows.”

The drow matron mother was no ordinary cleric. The blessings she had received from Lolth were clearly superior to those granted to other Chosen—abilities such as flight and enhanced spellcasting.

Moreover, throughout the entire battle, the matron mother had never shown the slightest trace of panic. The moment things turned against her, she retreated decisively, never giving him a chance to close the distance.

It had been a difficult and chaotic fight, nothing like the effortless victories he’d enjoyed before.

Fortunately, the outcome was still acceptable. Aside from the Chosen and a dozen or so drow elites, most of the enemy force had been wiped out.

The primary objectives had essentially been achieved.

’I’m still not quite up to par for battles at this level...’ Anser lowered his head, reflecting on the fight.

This had been his first direct confrontation against a team composed entirely of spellcasters. Their spellcasting was extraordinarily powerful. They hadn’t cast many spells, but every single one had been a nightmare to deal with.

’The era when overwhelming firepower could solve everything is over.’ He let out a long, heavy breath.

Still, the rewards had been substantial. His experience pool was overflowing.

Once he leveled up, he would gain access to 7th-level spells, pushing his strength even further.

The sound of galloping hooves interrupted his thoughts.

Turning around, he saw a group of knights approaching from the town, roughly a dozen riders in total.

The leading knights wore gleaming silver-white armor that reflected the sunlight so brightly their faces couldn’t be seen.

’Fashionably late, Mr. Rand.’ Anser stretched lazily.

The town was less than ten kilometers from the battlefield. The battle had ended too quickly. Without the ability to fly, they simply couldn’t have arrived in time.

He dismissed his Dragonkind Transformation, waved a hand to summon Nornoth, mounted him, and rode forward to meet them.

A few minutes later, both sides got a clear look at one another. The two leading knights immediately urged their horses into a faster pace.

One of them pulled off his helmet and shouted in delight, ”Anser?!”

Anser pulled a holy symbol from his robes, held it up, and waved it with a smile.

”It’s been a long time, Uncle Rand.”

”Hahahaha...”

Rand burst into hearty laughter. His voice was full of joy, yet carried an indescribable sense of relief.

Although they hadn’t spent much time together, Anser had left a deep impression on him. Otherwise, he never would have given Anser his holy symbol.

After the tragedy at Silver Scale Bay, Rand had believed Anser was dead.

Countless times, he had dreamed of Anser’s face. The regret had only grown deeper with each passing day.

He could never stop wondering:

What if I had stopped him?

What if he had never gone to Silver Scale Bay?

Zahir dismounted, removed his helmet, and quietly studied Anser.

His first impression was that Anser had changed so much he was almost unrecognizable.

But after looking more closely, he realized it wasn’t Anser’s appearance that had changed—it was the aura he carried.

The Anser he remembered still possessed traces of youthful inexperience and cautious restraint.

The man standing before him now radiated confidence and vitality, carried an air of unquestionable nobility, and seemed shrouded in unfathomable mystery.

Anser’s gaze fell upon Zahir, and he froze.

The die spun slightly before displaying Zahir’s status:

[Tyr’s Chosen — Zahir, Human, Level 10 Paladin (Oath of Devotion)]

’What...?’

Confusion filled Anser’s eyes.

Tyr, the God of Justice, was famous for choosing powerful champions.

Why would he select a Paladin of such a low level as his Chosen?

The old Zahir had only been Level 5. His growth had been remarkable, but even now he was only Level 10, still within the elite tier.

In terms of raw strength, he was weaker than every other Chosen Anser had encountered.

Anser glanced at Rand again.

Level 7.

His improvement... wasn’t particularly impressive either.

”What are you staring at?” Rand walked up to him, giving Nornoth a curious look.

”His name is Nornoth.” Anser swung down from the saddle. ”The holy symbol helped me find him as a mount. Honestly, without him, I probably wouldn’t have survived until now.”

”Huh?” Rand looked genuinely surprised before narrowing his eyes. ”He seems... rather extraordinary.”

Nornoth snorted and proudly lifted his head, though his eyes secretly drifted toward Rand.

Zahir stepped forward and was just about to speak when his expression suddenly changed.

A holy symbol depicting a pair of scales balanced atop a warhammer burst into radiant light upon his forehead.