The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

Maeve kept tilting her head as she looked at him, her gaze strange. ”Meow, are you a Wizard, a Sorcerer, or a Paladin?”

One man and one cat shared a soul, and could roughly sense each other’s class state.

”Mm, I have broad interests. I can also use Magic Power for Spellcasting.” With a thought from Anser, a white feather pen floated out of the spellbook, hovering above the page, spinning and dancing—it looked quite lively.

”Meow? That’s rare.” Maeve leapt to Anser’s side, resting her chin on the edge of the book, squinting as she stared at the dancing Wizardly Quill.

”Can you sense it? The Weave is in disorder. Many spellcasters have lost their ability to cast spells,” Anser explained.

”Meow? Meow!” Maeve suddenly stood up, pacing twice with light cat steps before collapsing weakly again. ”I can’t sense it. My arcane power depends on your existence—whatever you use, I use.”

”That’s not bad.” As Anser spoke, he recalled the spell model of Alarm.

The Wizardly Quill began to move rapidly across the page. An abstract three-dimensional model emerged on the paper—its trajectories clear, its layers distinct, its structure precise. Every node was perfectly accurate down to the smallest detail.

Five minutes passed before the quill finally stopped.

At the top of the page was written ”Alarm.” Below it was a complex three-dimensional model, along with detailed annotations, filling the entire page.

”A 1st-level spell already takes up a whole page. What about 2nd- and 3rd-level spells?” Anser also knew how to copy scrolls—what mattered most in a spell scroll was continuity. If Magic Power didn’t flow properly, no matter how precise the copying was, it would be useless.

There was no such thing as a standard size for spell scrolls. As long as they could be cast properly, the smaller the better. If you made one a meter long, not only would it be inconvenient to carry, it would also be easy to damage.

”Meow, one spell per page. The Wizardly Quill can write very small,” Maeve explained.

Anser understood. The Book of Castella could be consulted mentally during meditation, so font size didn’t affect readability.

He didn’t waste time. He continued copying other spells, spending over two hours copying eight 1st-level spells and four 2nd-level spells into the spellbook. Each was copied twice, making it convenient to tear out as scrolls.

Looking at the densely packed contents of the spellbook, he felt quite accomplished.

On a whim, he tried copying Sorcerer spells. The Wizardly Quill paused for a moment, then wrote out a mess of gibberish.

’It’s not impossible—but I’ll need to fully understand it first.’ He wasn’t disappointed. The future was long.

Flipping to the page with Alarm, he tore at it hard. The page didn’t budge.

Maeve covered her eyes with both paws, as if she couldn’t bear to watch.

Anser gave an awkward laugh, then immediately understood. As he tore while issuing a command, the page glowed faintly and detached automatically.

A flash of spiritual light passed through it. The spell model on the page seemed to gain flesh and blood—every node and line filled with Magic Power, vivid and alive.

He rolled up the page and carefully placed it into the Avaricious Dragonhide Pouch.

’One page a day isn’t bad. I knew not all Wizards are hardworking!’

After finishing this, he granted Maeve authorization over five spells—Alarm, Mage Armor, Unseen Servant, Find Familiar, and Arcane Lock—so she could help with vigilance and casting defensive spells in daily situations.

At present, he had too few Wizard spells and didn’t have many options. Spells like Mirror Image, False Life, and Absorb Elements couldn’t target others.

Maeve’s Spellcasting ability and Magic Power were equivalent to a 9th-level Wizard, but she depended on the spellbook and Anser, and knew no spells on her own.

After changing masters, she only retained basic arcane knowledge and language ability. She understood how to use the spellbook and excelled at copying scrolls.

Anser had high expectations for her, but didn’t rush to assign tasks. He planned to spend some time getting along first.

He had originally wanted to summon a familiar, but realized he didn’t have high-quality incense on hand. That was a consumable and couldn’t be replaced.

’Next level-up, I’ll enhance Metamagic—Subtle Spell. Running around looking for materials is getting annoying.’

He teleported back to Fort Jacqueline. Maeve treated the spellbook as a mount, floating beside him, curious about everything.

Sometimes she even chased drifting elemental spheres—very lively.

’So she’s not lazy after all.’ Anser felt the Book of Castella’s judgment of her personality might not be accurate.

He glanced out the window and noticed a group of cloaked figures had arrived outside the castle. One bald man stood out.

’Alchemist Sosk? He’s probably here for the black dragon corpse.’

He hurried downstairs and ran into Iris at the entrance hall. She was holding a large black bag, though it was unclear what was inside.

”Huh?” Iris looked at Maeve, her face full of curiosity and surprise. ”What is that?”

”My partner. Her name is Maeve.” Anser kept a straight face. The concept of ”partner” was broad—familiars and friends both counted.

Maeve hovered behind Anser on the spellbook, peeking out to observe Iris.

Seeing this, Iris didn’t approach forcefully. Instead, she shot Anser a strange look and clicked her tongue. ”Tch, so you’re into that.”

”She’s not a Druid. She’s a Wizard,” Anser quickly added.

”Oh~” Iris gave him a knowing look and didn’t press further. She handed him the black bag. ”This is Sosk’s Bag of Holding. The black dragon corpse is inside.”

A Bag of Holding was a general term for dimensional storage items. Capacities varied, but one capable of storing a black dragon corpse was extremely rare.

”Fast work. He also bought those werewolf corpses earlier—can he even use all of them?” Anser took the bag and walked outside alongside Iris.

”He carries the aura of undead,” Iris said quietly.

Anser immediately understood. No wonder Sosk hadn’t come inside—he must have been flagged by the detection array.

He didn’t assume ill intent. Having an undead aura wasn’t necessarily a big deal. There were plenty of undead near the ruins of Viheral.

Still, he quietly cast Detect Evil and Good.

As they reached the castle gate, they saw the bald man pacing back and forth in the distance. His skin had grown even paler, completely devoid of color.

When Sosk saw Anser, his expression stiffened—but his face was always stiff, so no one noticed.

’Meow, he’s researching necromancy.’ Maeve’s telepathic voice echoed in Anser’s mind.

Her perception was sharp, and her arcane proficiency was high—she could easily distinguish between contamination and actual spellcasting.

Anser remained calm. Sosk wasn’t aligned with evil; perhaps he was studying necromancy to explore the ruins of Viheral.

”After just a few days, you’ve grown much stronger,” Sosk praised. It wasn’t entirely flattery—he could genuinely sense the change in Anser’s aura.

His gaze fell on Maeve and the spellbook, and his expression shifted slightly. ”You used that Deck of Many Things?”

”Mm.” Anser knew he had misunderstood, but didn’t explain. He simply handed over the black bag, completing their transaction.

”What a pity, what a pity.” Sosk accepted the bag, his dry voice filled with regret.

A Sorcerer obtaining a high-quality spellbook—there was a certain irony to it.

”How are things in the Wood of Sharp Teeth lately? Have the werewolves started roaming in large numbers?” Anser asked.

”Heh, the werewolf tribes are in disarray. Some have even migrated elsewhere. I encountered no obstacles along the way…” Sosk’s voice was hoarse, but carried a trace of excitement.

The werewolf tribes had been his greatest obstacle in exploring Viheral. He hadn’t expected the largest tribe to be scattered by Anser.

”Then you owe me a favor. If you find anything good, remember me first,” Anser said half-jokingly.

”Certainly.” Sosk bowed slightly. ”I have matters to attend to—I’ll take my leave.”

”Then I wish you success,” Anser said meaningfully.

Sosk paused briefly, then acted as if nothing had happened and left with his group, his steps hurried.

”This guy… could he really have discovered something?” Iris mused.

She had known Sosk for a long time. Recently, he had been acting more urgently—as if time was running out and he was making one final push.

In the past, he would have insisted on inspecting those magical artillery platforms. Now, he didn’t even ask.

”I’m worried he might go too far and drag us down with him,” Anser frowned slightly.

”I’ll have someone keep an eye on him,” Iris considered. ”We can’t let him cause trouble.”

”Mm. I’m planning to visit the Traveler’s Rest this afternoon to check things out.”

”I’ll watch your back.”

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