The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

Before the words had even finished falling, a hand with pale gray skin, smooth as satin, reached toward Anser’s cheek.

Anser suddenly turned around and stepped back at the same time. His gaze swept across—and at some unknown moment, a female drow was already standing beside him.

Silver hair, black eyes, sharp features, a tall figure. The custom-made black leather outfit only covered the essential parts, leaving ninety percent of her skin exposed. Bright metallic chains adorned her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles.

”Why dodge? This place is absolutely safe.”

The drow spoke in Draconic. Her voice was magnetic, her tone gentle, yet there was an unmistakable hint of superiority beneath it—clearly someone long accustomed to a position of power.

”This cat… isn’t for sale.”

Anser’s expression remained calm, though he stayed inwardly alert.

Most drow worship Lolth and her pantheon, and their alignment tends toward chaotic evil. There are also those who follow the good deity Eilistraee, but they are extremely rare.

”Not for sale, then forget it.”

The drow woman let out a soft laugh. ”I’m Delira. First time here, right? I’ll take you around—wouldn’t want you getting scammed.”

She didn’t ask Anser’s name, nor his origin. She simply beckoned with her hand, signaling him to follow.

Anser narrowed his eyes, unable to discern her intentions. After a brief moment of thought, he stepped forward and followed behind her, keeping a distance of more than two paces.

The trading market was vast. Even if he refused her, he wouldn’t be able to stop others from watching or following him. It was better to first understand her intentions.

Seeing him follow, Delira’s lips curved into a smile.

”The Traveler’s Rest only guarantees your safety—it doesn’t care if you get cheated. Especially in this marketplace, all kinds of people are here. Some specialize in scamming newcomers like you.”

”How do you know I’m new?”

Anser asked, puzzled. He believed he had acted quite calmly and hadn’t done anything unusual.

”Hehe…”

Delira stopped, stepped closer, and extended a slender finger toward a halfling ahead.

”Let’s test your observation skills. Take a good look at him.”

Anser focused. At first, nothing seemed particularly strange—just that the halfling looked overly relaxed, as if he were in his own home.

Then he quickly noticed something off about the halfling’s breathing and gait—almost as if… he wasn’t used to it.

”Breathing, gravity, and demeanor?” he ventured.

”Very smart.”

Delira praised him. ”New arrivals usually fall into two states—either overly relaxed or overly cautious. Calmness is just a disguise.”

”And this is the Astral Plane—there’s no air here. The ground beneath your feet is a gravity plane created by the inn, very different from the Material Plane. The body can’t adapt to this change in a short time. That’s not something you can fake.”

Anser understood. It wasn’t that he couldn’t think of it—he simply had never been to the Astral Plane before. Earlier, he had been tense, his mind entirely focused on assessing the situation of the Traveler’s Rest.

”Also, I spend a lot of time here. With looks like yours, if I’d seen you before, I definitely wouldn’t forget.”

Delira teased.

Anser felt a bit helpless. Extraordinary charisma didn’t just attract attention—it attracted trouble as well.

At the same time, he caught a flaw in her words and couldn’t help asking, ”You said you stay here often?”

”There are many kinds of teleportation mediums.”

Delira explained. ”The most common is the Traveler’s Badge—you can only stay for one day. The best ones allow up to three days, but their functions are mostly the same.”

Anser understood. The restrictions imposed by the Traveler’s Rest were probably to avoid trouble. If someone treated it as a refuge, it might attract unknown powerful enemies.

”Can badges be traded?”

He wanted to buy another one for Iris.

”They can, but the total number doesn’t change—you can only buy from others.”

Delira waved her hand. ”Don’t bother thinking about it. Almost no one sells. But exchanges… are possible.”

”Exchange?”

Anser instantly thought of a possibility, his expression shifting slightly.

”Exactly.”

Delira smiled. ”Teleportation mediums don’t require attunement. As long as you know the password, you can use them. After teleporting here, the medium anchors the coordinates of where you came from. Exchanging mediums is essentially exchanging positions in the Material Plane.”

Anser inwardly thought, just as expected. If he exchanged mediums with a traveler from another wildspace system, he could enter that system—easily achieving interplanar travel.

You could use it to ask for help, deal with enemies… the possibilities were endless—but not necessarily safe.

”It could also be a trap, right?”

”Heh, obviously.”

As they spoke, the two arrived at a counter displaying rows upon rows of spellbooks—over a hundred in total.

At first, Anser paid little attention. Then he sensed something was off.

The Weave had originally been unique to Realmspace, to Toril. Abeir didn’t have it. Other wildspace systems didn’t either—Eberron relied on dragonmarks, Greyspace magic was based on elemental forces and primal magic.

If the Weave became unstable, it should only affect Toril. Other systems shouldn’t be affected.

”Why are there so many spellbooks?”

He pretended not to know.

”Hehe, why do you think?”

Delira crossed her arms, smiling faintly as she looked at him.

Anser didn’t feel embarrassed. Calmly, he said, ”I mean… there seem to be quite a few people from Realmspace.”

”Oh? Not bad—you actually know the term Realmspace.”

Delira sounded surprised.

Most professionals had limited knowledge. They only knew their country or continent, and didn’t even understand the concept of planes—let alone academic terms like ”Realmspace.”

Many who accidentally obtained a Traveler’s Badge remained confused, never fully grasping the relationships between planes.

”My mentor taught me.”

Anser casually fabricated a backing. The mentor did exist—he just happened to be dead.

Delira didn’t doubt him. With talent like Anser’s, having a mentor would be stranger if he didn’t.

”I’m from Toril.”

Delira leaned closer and pointed at his nose.

”You are too.”

”You can tell that as well?”

Anser showed confusion.

”Because at the beginning, the Traveler’s Rest was only open to Realmspace. Later, teleportation mediums spread outward, and beings from other wildspace systems began to appear—but they’re still a minority.”

Delira stopped teasing him.

”I see.”

Anser recalled the strange bird’s warning and suddenly understood its deeper meaning.

Even if beings from other systems learned his location, it wouldn’t matter—crossing wildspace was extremely difficult. The real danger of revealing his identity lay in the sheer number of ”fellow locals.” If exposed, someone might actually track him down.

At that moment, the die spun for a long time before finally detecting Delira’s information:

[Delira, Drow, Level 17 Wizard (Bladesinger)]

’A rare class.’

He silently remarked.

Bladesingers mastered an arcane tradition that combined swordsmanship and dance, originally created by elves. In battle, they used a series of elegant and complex techniques to deflect attacks while channeling magic into deadly strikes and elusive defenses.

A typical hybrid class—seemingly mediocre in everything, yet actually quite strong.

”Come on, I’ll show you around. Talk less.”

Delira interrupted his thoughts.

”Mm.”

Anser responded, not refusing, but maintaining his vigilance.

For her to reveal so much information on a first meeting—if she had no ulterior motive, even ghosts wouldn’t believe it.

The two walked and browsed. Mostly looking, buying nothing.

The market wasn’t very crowded—at most around a hundred people—yet there were over two hundred stalls, offering all kinds of goods.

There were countless magic items, some boldly labeled as Legendary or Artifact, each with grander names than the last.

But after detection by the die, most were fake. Those that couldn’t be determined weren’t necessarily real—they were simply difficult to identify.

Delira didn’t stop. She led him up the central spiral staircase to the second floor.

It was quiet here. Three walls were covered with black crystal screens, projecting streams of magical light—each one a task. The style was unique, like a fantasy version of cyberpunk.

One side of the hall had rows of windows; opposite them were many doors, their purposes unknown.

”They’re just projection crystals—nothing mysterious.”

Delira chuckled. ”This is the mission hall. Opposite, you can sell or buy information…”

Anser scanned the area. His gaze suddenly fixed on a task board labeled:

[Arcane Research Society.]

The top listing was deliberately bolded and emphasized.

[Seeking a complete and stable spell model under magic-powered casting conditions. Minimum reward: one thousand pounds of gold. Includes membership qualification…]

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