The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The group walked to the treehouse in silence. In just a few dozen meters, two attendants had somehow followed them from behind, their gazes wary.

Darla did not linger in the dining hall. She pushed open a concealed door and led them up to the second floor.

Beyond the door was a living room, warmly furnished with soft, gentle tones.

On the sofa, Kaleno was lounging lazily. Seeing so many people come up at once, he hurriedly sat upright, his gaze circling the room before settling on Anser.

Darla slammed the door shut with a bang and said urgently, ”Boss, they brought back a little elf from outside!”

”I know, already—why are you so nervous?” Kaleno walked over in a few steps and poked Darla’s forehead with his finger. ”Use your brain. If it were really a kidnapping, how could they possibly come here to stay?”

”Sit. My sister will be back in a bit.” He called out as he hurried to the nearby wine cabinet, taking out a bottle of grape wine and several glasses. There was a hint of anticipation on his face. ”Quick, tell me—what exactly just happened?”

”You saw it?” Anser sat down on the sofa holding Claira. After all that fighting, most of the Magic Power in his body had been spent, and he was genuinely a little tired.

”I saw it first, then I called my sister to help. She has a horse and runs fast.” Kaleno laughed heartily, giving off a clear air of enjoying the spectacle.

”Thank you,” Anser said. He had not expected Kaleno to be so righteous.

”No need to be so polite.” Kaleno poured wine for everyone and urged them again. ”Come on, tell me—how did you end up burning a ship?”

Anser was naturally willing to satisfy his curiosity. He began from the moment the Conch docked, then went on to the discovery of the anomaly, stopping Claira, encountering an encirclement, carrying out a strategic withdrawal, and finally counterkilling on the return—using a ray to burn the ship.

His eloquence was average, but his logic was clear, one link tightly following another, and his own emotional intensity was strong. Even little Claira listened with her expressions constantly shifting.

”Hahaha, those slave traders really kicked an iron plate.” Kaleno seemed as if he were there in person, downing several cups in a row.

Anser smiled without speaking. He realized that Kaleno truly loved adventure and should not be cooped up in a small town.

Kaleno possessed a rare psionic talent. The core of a psi warrior is mental power, which originates from the mind and will. Only by recognizing one’s own heart and following its guidance can one continuously break past limits.

Experience might not necessarily be useful, but staying at home definitely would not be—otherwise, he would not have been stuck at level 4 all this time.

”You’re lucky you came here; otherwise there would have been even bigger trouble,” Kaleno said, pointing at Claira.

”Why?” Anser asked, puzzled.

”Recently, the slave trade has been rampant. Ordinary slaves have sharply depreciated, but for some reason, the prices of children with special bloodlines and sorcerers have multiplied many times over. The two of you together are really something—you definitely won’t have any peace,” Kaleno sighed.

Because of this, Moonshadow Quelin had also become extremely tense, and Gwyneth was on guard against all strangers.

Anser suddenly thought of the Order of Blue Fire. Compared to hunting sorcerers for materials, buying slaves was indeed much simpler.

He also wanted to ask how bloodlines were identified, but then suddenly realized that the question itself was somewhat foolish.

Sorcerous talent was the easiest to distinguish. The key lay in Charisma—a kind of attraction that originates from the soul. One could sense it upon meeting, and most sorcerers were also fairly good-looking.

”No wonder.”

As they were talking, the door was suddenly pushed open. Gwyneth entered with a cold expression, her eyes carrying a hint of anger.

”What’s wrong, sis?” Kaleno was taken aback.

”Nothing.” Gwyneth had not expected there to be so many people in the room. She reined in her expression, clearly having no intention of informing others.

Anser felt that she had probably suffered a setback at the hands of the female barbarian magister.

Dignity is earned through strength. Moon Elves, dragging along their families and yielding whenever trouble arose, would only invite others to push further.

”Huh? Such a beautiful elf baby?” When Gwyneth saw Claira, the icy expression on her face melted like snow.

”Her name is Claira. Anser only came into conflict with the slave traders in order to save her…” Kaleno explained the process in just a few words.

Gwyneth gave Anser a slight bow. In her eyes, striking at slave traders was far less important than rescuing this little elf.

”What is your teacher’s name?” she asked, looking toward Kafka.

”Dorothea Tsaitkin.” Kafka bowed his head, seemingly not daring to meet her gaze.

Gwyneth’s expression changed slightly, then quickly returned to normal. She walked over to Claira, crouched down, and looked at her with a warm smile.

”Claira, how about staying here for now? I have lots of tasty food here—you’ll definitely like it.”

”Okay! I like it here.” Claira agreed readily. The environment and atmosphere made her feel very relaxed.

Off to the side, Kafka let out a quiet sigh of relief. Gwyneth passing Claira’s ”good person” test undoubtedly put him more at ease.

Even among Elves, there are good and bad alike; sometimes, the ones who hurt you the most are your own kind.

Gwyneth seemed to like Claira very much. Learning that she had not eaten, she hurriedly picked her up and went downstairs to get food.

The others followed them down. As they were leaving, Kaleno mysteriously grabbed Anser and whispered, ”Early the day after tomorrow, pack your things in advance.”

Anser’s heart skipped a beat. He silently nodded.

The three returned to their room, where items were piled all over the floor.

They had gone out for only half a day. Not only had the original items not been sold, there was now an additional pile of spoils.

It was not a good time to go out again. The bustle outside had not yet died down—it would draw too much attention.

Anser lay down on the bed. His focus sank into his mind as he brought up the character sheet.

Experience points had reached 3234/6500. He had gained more than five hundred experience today, bringing him one step closer to leveling up.

Nothing else had changed much. Opening the equipment tab, he saw that the Guardian Holy Grail had gained one additional charge—truly just a single charge.

”Is it because I haven’t saved enough people, or because my heart isn’t sincere enough?” But there was no way he would change himself just to cater to a magical item.

Shaking his head helplessly, Anser brought up Nornoth’s data card.

[Name: Nornoth]

Race: Fey (Large)

Level: 0

Experience: 132/100

Hit Points: 35

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

It can level up now. He made a quick estimate—its experience was higher than he had expected.

Most of the professionals aboard the Conch had died by his hand. Nornoth had simply picked up the scraps; an ordinary sailor could only provide a dozen or so experience points, which should not have added up to this much.

Either Nornoth had also received a share of experience the last time they fought undead, or it had grown while in the Feywild. Anser had not been monitoring it constantly, so it was hard to judge.

Nornoth doesn’t have a class. Anser felt a little puzzled. Could it be a monster template?

He leaned over to look out the window. Nornoth was strolling through the garden below. Quite a few people in the distance were pointing and whispering, but no one dared to approach Nornoth rashly.

After all, no one knew what the temperament of the spellcaster who had just displayed overwhelming might—or that spellcaster’s strange horse—might be like.

Anser thought for a moment and lightly tapped the level field. The character sheet immediately blurred.

At the same time, Nornoth seemed to sense something and quickly moved to hide behind several trees.

With its eyes closed and its head held high, dense magical radiance poured out around its body. The neck armor that had been damaged by bullets rapidly regenerated, while its muscles and scales subtly writhed.

Clearly, its body was undergoing some mysterious transformation that defied easy description.

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