The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

”Who is this?” Bratt and the other person stared in astonishment.

”Magistrate Ragna, hehe…” Anser deliberately altered his voice, and it really did sound quite similar.

This was a 1st-level illusion—Disguise Self. The body shape was fake, and the armor and great axe were illusions as well.

However, to see through his illusion, one first had to harbor suspicion, study his appearance and behavior, and then pass an Intelligence (Investigation) check.

Since even the dead could speak, he might as well let the slave traders remain muddleheaded, and, incidentally, drag the utterly ineffective magistrate down with them.

It did not matter if he was seen through; it was only a single attempt anyway.

”Let’s go.” He pulled up his hood and went downstairs with light, careful steps.

The lighting on the first floor was dim. On duty was a male elf attendant. He looked at Anser’s back with a puzzled expression, but did not stop him or conduct any inspection.

Anser headed all the way toward the northwest bay. Grey Eagle circled overhead.

The waters where the ”Conch” was located were very remote. There were no docks nearby, and the lights were dim—clearly a deliberately chosen spot.

Twenty to thirty minutes later, he reached the shore. The surroundings were utterly silent: no birds, no human voices, only the pitch-black seawater.

The moonlight was faint tonight, and the sea was very dark. He could only vaguely make out a large mass of shadow in the distance. For some reason, the ”Conch” had not lit any lamps.

’Could it be trying to run away?’

Anser took off his shoes and carefully tucked them behind several pieces of broken stone, then placed his hand on the wand at his waist.

”परिवर्तन”

He felt his cheeks and hands and feet itch intensely. He raised both hands and saw that his skin was rapidly writhing, secreting a kind of mucus; his five fingers elongated, and webbing grew between them.

The webbing on his feet was even more exaggerated, covering the soles and heels—flat, wide, and soft at the ends.

This was the aquatic adaptation state of Alter Self.

’The look is a bit frightening.’ He touched the gills that extended from behind his ears down to his chin, finding it hard to believe.

After adapting for a moment, he plunged with a splash and leapt straight into the bay.

Before entering the water, he was full of unease; after entering it, all anxiety vanished at once. It felt like coming home, an indescribable sense of ease.

There was no suffocating feeling, no sense of restraint. He could move freely. Just as he was about to swim forward, his body shot out like a fish—smooth and natural, as if he were born a marine creature.

He had previously worried about what he would do if he could not swim across. Now it seemed that this several-kilometer distance was no different from a stroll. Before the novelty had even worn off, he had already swum two or three kilometers.

If there was any drawback, it was that he could not see clearly underwater. He did not have Darkvision and did not dare to use full speed—if he smashed headfirst into a reef, would he not be laughed to death?

The sea surface was very dark. He quietly surfaced to get his bearings, then dove back down again.

A few minutes later, he arrived before an enormous dark shadow. Floating up along the anchor chain, he surfaced, and when he looked up, he happened to see the word ”Conch.”

He tilted his head and listened. Around him came the successive sounds of ocean waves, and from the deck drifted a few faint snippets of conversation.

’Climb up along the anchor chain—save a Misty Step.’

In fact, he wanted to cast either Fog Cloud or Darkness for cover. The awkward part was that both of those spells, like Alter Self, required concentration. Once cast, the one-hour duration of Alter Self would be interrupted.

As long as Alter Self was not interrupted, however, its magical effects could be switched at any time—for example, changing appearance or growing natural weapons like claws.

Just as he was about to act, he suddenly sensed something abnormal underwater, and his heart jolted.

Before he could react, bubbles rose on the surrounding sea surface, and four human heads popped out of the water in succession.

Anser’s nerves instantly went taut. A Misty Step nearly went off—this was a scenario he had never anticipated, even after rehearsing several times.

He had not expected it, and the four people were naturally just as unprepared. Yet when they saw Anser, their expressions were calm, as if they did not find it strange at all.

Only when Anser locked eyes with a person covered in dirty dreadlocks did the atmosphere suddenly tense.

Ragna!

Two Ragnas!

’This is bad!’ Anser’s scalp tightened. A fake running into the real thing—this was far too coincidental.

The two Ragnas looked at each other, while the other three watched from the side. No one spoke, but they quickly figured out who was fake.

An illusion was still an illusion. It had no physical properties; seawater passed straight through it, making it easy to tell—let alone the fact that no normal person would go into the water carrying a great axe on their back.

Could they surface?

”Shh—” Anser raised a long, webbed finger to his lips and made a quieting gesture.

The four with Ragna exchanged looks. One handsome, middle-aged man used the grappling hook in his hand to quietly point toward the deck, then made a throat-slitting gesture.

Anser nodded vigorously, secretly letting out a breath of relief. His guess had been right—their purpose matched his, and they were not enemies.

Since that was the case, there was a basis for cooperation. He was mainly here for the experience points.

Ragna shot him a hard glare, then raised her hand and made an encircling gesture, signaling everyone to launch the attack simultaneously.

Her three companions nodded one after another and quietly circled along the ship’s side, looking for places to board.

Their sneaking experience was clearly richer than Anser’s; almost all of them carried grappling hooks or climbing tools.

Splash—Ragna flicked a string of water droplets toward Anser, then pointed upward, signaling for him to go first. She was clearly distrustful of him.

Anser did not trust them either. From start to finish, he never relaxed his vigilance. Only after Ragna moved farther away did he cancel the aquatic adaptation and climb lightly up along the anchor chain.

Because of the ocean currents, the anchor chain was almost fully taut. It was fairly thick, but the surface was slick and somewhat difficult to climb—though that posed no real problem for him.

When he reached the lower end of the hawsehole, he paused for several seconds, then used the momentum to jump, grabbed the ship’s rail, and, after confirming that no one was nearby, flipped himself up onto the deck.

The ”Conch” did not light any lamps. Others could not see it, and the crew on board were likewise groping in the dark—without getting close, nothing could be seen.

Anser hid behind the capstan and extended both hands. As magic power flowed, his arms rapidly thickened, his palms grew larger and heavier, and sharp claws more than ten centimeters long sprouted from them, gleaming with a faint metallic sheen. Paired with grim, cold scales, they looked like a pair of dragon claws.

He did not wait for Ragna. Barefoot and crouched low, he moved along the ship’s side toward the stern.

After only a few steps, he saw a vague silhouette ahead. Judging by the attire, it should be a crew member of the ”Conch.”

He slowed his breathing and footsteps, approaching in a stealth posture. Then he suddenly struck—his right claw seized the target’s neck like grabbing a chicken. The claws easily pierced the throat and blood vessels; with a sharp crack, the neck bones were actually crushed in his grip.

[…Target dead. Gained 18 experience points]

”What was that sound?” Another figure emerged from the darkness ahead.

Anser was startled and was just about to charge when a whistling sound came by his ear, and the figure fell at once.

He hurried forward two steps, reached out to catch the body, and slowly laid it down. Only then did he see a hand axe embedded in the person’s forehead.

A thick, powerful hand reached over. A foot stepped on the head, and with force, the hand axe was pulled free.

”Tsk…” Ragna made a strange sound, glanced at him, and moved forward in small steps.

Anser curled his lips. He was not annoyed. He released the corpse in his hands, flicked the blood from his claws, and followed behind her in small steps.

---

I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> /TitoVillar

---