The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

’First, I need to attune to it.’

Anser hurried back to the first floor.

He stripped both the Regalia of the Nether Periwinkle and the Eyes and Hand of Vecna from the skeleton and stored them in the Party Storage. Without entering this demiplane, it was impossible to remove those items. The lich had probably refrained from entering because it was wary of the dangers lurking inside.

He placed the remains in a wooden crate and buried them in the cemetery outside. There was no headstone—only a small mound of earth.

Holrewen was protected by divination magic, peaceful and tranquil. It was as good a resting place as any, and no one would disturb him there.

He summoned an Unseen Servant and had it begin cleaning the rooms from the first floor upward. The mausoleum was already spotless, but it was a necessary part of moving in.

’Chromatic Orb, Euryale’s Aegis, Book of Castella, Robe of Stars, Sword of Sharpness...’

After carefully reviewing the items he was attuned to, he decided to temporarily give up the Sword of Sharpness and free that attunement slot for the Silent Mausoleum.

His primary method for tackling powerful enemies was still spellcasting. Replacing his sword with an ordinary magical weapon wouldn’t make much difference.

He spread a cushion across the empty hall on the first floor and closed his eyes in meditation.

A colossal mausoleum gradually took shape within his mind, becoming clearer and clearer. Unknowingly, a deathly silence enveloped him.

Little by little, his chaotic thoughts settled into stillness. His mind became crystal clear, empty of all thought. Nothing in the world could stir even the slightest ripple in his heart.

Even time itself seemed to forget him...

Who knew how long had passed before faint ripples spread across the tranquil sea of his consciousness. His awareness finally caught hold of time’s trailing edge and abruptly returned.

He slowly opened his eyes, confusion lingering in his gaze. Only after a long moment did a flood of memories surge back into his mind.

He opened his pocket watch.

The hands pointed straight at twelve.

”Holy shit!”

He stepped forward, and in the next instant found himself standing on a grassy field. The sky was already bright, and the distant shouts of farmers echoed through the air.

Behind him stood a pitch-black gravestone, utterly blank.

’It should already be the next day,’ he thought, a chill running down his spine.

He had only intended to attune to the Silent Mausoleum.

He hadn’t expected to nearly sleep forever.

Fortunately, as a wizard who wielded time magic, he was exceptionally sensitive to the flow of time. Otherwise, he really might have slept for days, months... or even decades.

’This place is seriously cursed. I’m never meditating or sleeping here again.’

If immortality existed only within a dreamless, thoughtless slumber, then what meaning was there in being alive?

Besides, this mausoleum was suitable only for undead creatures like liches and vampires. An ordinary person would simply starve to death if they fell asleep here.

After giving himself that solemn warning, he entered the mausoleum once more and strode toward the staircase leading to the third and fourth floors.

With a wave of his hand, the barrier vanished.

A massive black skull lunged at him with unmistakable malice.

Bang!

The barrier instantly reappeared.

The skull slammed into it, burst into a cloud of black mist, and retreated back inside.

The skull itself was formed from dense death magic. That lunge had been nothing more than an instinctive reaction to living beings.

’I knew it!’

With only a brief glance, Anser had already taken in the scene beyond.

The place was packed with undead—mostly zombies, along with several malevolent spirits.

He dispelled the barrier again.

Every undead creature immediately turned to look at him, ghostly light glowing within their eye sockets.

Then they charged at him like mad.

Anser might have been the master of this mausoleum—but he wasn’t the master of its undead.

’Heh. I wasn’t planning on keeping any of you alive anyway.’

Magic power surged around him.

He raised a hand and swept it through the air. Countless blades of magical energy materialized from nothing, spinning rapidly as they took shape before forming several uneven walls of whirling swords across the staircase.

Blade Barrier!

Every undead that crashed into it was thrown into what amounted to a giant meat grinder. Rotting flesh and tainted spirits were shredded away layer by layer, filling the air with a nauseating stench.

The malevolent spirits tried to retreat. Even the zombies recoiled in fear.

But with the undead behind them relentlessly shoving them forward, they could do nothing but watch as their bodies were hacked into mangled pieces.

The Blade Barrier dealt force damage—not ordinary slashing damage from physical blades.

Anser leisurely continued casting, the Chromatic Orb humming in his hand.

Metamagic: Maximized Spell + Empowered Spell + Subtle Spell + 7th-Level Fireball (Lightning)!

A brilliant sphere of light shot over the top of the wall of blades through a narrow gap and landed deep inside the chamber before erupting with a thunderous explosion.

Blinding blue-white lightning raged through the room, engulfing every undead within it. Yet the Blade Barrier trapped the blast completely, preventing it from spilling into the structure of the third floor.

The sensation was just like electrofishing in a fish pond.

There was something uniquely satisfying about it.

It was a thrill no angler with a fishing rod could ever experience.

[Target slain. Gained 175 experience points.]

[Target slain. Gained 1,818 experience points.]

A dense stream of experience notifications swept across his mind.

The corners of Anser’s lips curled upward as he casually unleashed another Maximized Fireball (Lightning).

The flash of electricity faded, and the room fell completely silent.

The air was thick with a nauseating stench—a revolting mixture of burnt flesh and rotting carrion.

With a wave of his hand, the magic array of the Silent Mausoleum activated. The mangled corpses were teleported away one after another, and the stale air was replaced with fresh air.

The fourth floor was left spotless, as though nothing had ever happened.

”That was satisfying!”

It felt as though someone else had spent years raising livestock, only for him to show up and harvest everything.

He opened his Character Sheet.

His experience had increased by eleven thousand points, and the eleventh symbol had now lit up completely.

These undead weren’t weak, but they also weren’t nearly as powerful as he had imagined. The truly formidable ones had probably died alongside the mausoleum’s former master.

He stepped onto the fourth floor.

It was larger than the first three floors combined—at least a thousand square meters, with a ceiling over ten meters high. The floor was covered by a thick layer of soil, while the enormous chamber itself stood completely empty, offering an unobstructed view from end to end.

’If I replace the soil, I might be able to grow something here.’

Living people couldn’t survive here without food and water.

If anyone else sleeping here could also suspend their aging, then this benefit would be perfect for winning people’s loyalty. Small as it was, the place could even serve as a research facility.

He searched the entire floor one more time.

After confirming there was nothing else inside, he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

’Forget it. Time to take care of the real business.’

He teleported away without taking the mausoleum with him.

The mausoleum was a hidden fallback stronghold that could save his life in an emergency. Carrying it around served no purpose. Leaving it hidden here was far safer, and almost no one would ever find it.

He first returned to Fort Jacqueline to let Iris know he was safe. After confirming that neither the lich nor the death knight had appeared, he returned to the Black Tower and found Kafka reading in his room.

He asked whether Kafka was willing to study at the Magic Research Society.

Although they hadn’t seen each other for quite some time, Kafka didn’t feel the slightest sense of estrangement. Anser had saved his life before, and the two had once fought side by side.

After learning why Anser had come, Kafka’s face lit up with excitement, though he still looked somewhat hesitant.

”Can’t bear to leave little Claira behind?” Anser asked with a smile.

”No.” Kafka scratched his messy red hair awkwardly. ”I’m worried I simply don’t have enough talent.”

Little Claira would be far better off staying with two genius spellcasters like Anser and Iris than following him around.

His real concern was his own ability. If he failed to learn properly and couldn’t earn a place in the Wizard’s Tower, things would become awkward.

He was a third-level Divination Wizard, but among his master’s many students, he had never been particularly outstanding. His master had entrusted Claira to him mainly because he was the most dependable.

”You’re overthinking it.” Anser pointed at himself. ”I’m a member. I have every right to bring people into the Tower. There’s no need for you to take on another master either—you can simply study on your own. Besides...” A grin spread across his face. ”I have a secret weapon.”

He briefly introduced the Genius Adventuring Party before inviting Kafka to join it as its ninth member.

With that, Kafka would have both talent and resources.

It wouldn’t take long for him to distinguish himself.

He might even have a chance to become a full member—or perhaps even the Tower Master—and eventually become one of the Magic Research Society’s key decision-makers.

Anser had no intention of scheming for power.

The Magic Research Society was loosely organized, with numerous competing factions. Having one more trusted person inside would simply make it easier to stay informed and occasionally borrow the Society’s influence when necessary.

After all, standing against the world with the strength of a single dragon was still too difficult.

Even gods needed allies.

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