The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The dragonfly ship had a slender build. The cabin wasn’t large—nine meters long, with a width and height of about six meters—divided into two levels.

The upper level housed the captain’s quarters and rest area. The entrance section served as a cargo hold, and at the rear, there was a movable ballista on each side. When necessary, firing ports could be opened to attack enemies.

Lin Qiancheng didn’t linger in the cabin. He led Anser into the cockpit.

This area was even smaller, only five or six meters in length and width, but the field of vision was extremely open. The compound-eye viewing section was made entirely of one-way transparent crystal, allowing a clear view of everything outside.

There were no complex instruments or control panels here—only a luxurious high-backed chair embedded into the deck, locked under a heavy iron casing, clearly meant to prevent someone from secretly taking control of the ship.

Pointing at the chair, Lin Qiancheng explained carefully: ”This is the spelljamming helm—the core of propulsion and control for a magical vessel…”

The spelljamming helm was a magical construct created by mages or artificers. There existed a rare 5th-level transmutation spell capable of creating such a helm.

To operate it, a spellcaster had to attune to it. The one controlling the helm was known as the helmsman.

Since the process consumed spell slots or magical power, operators might need to switch. In that case, the current helmsman only needed to touch another spellcaster to transfer the attunement—quick and convenient.

The helmsman could drive the ship to fly and could also see and hear everything happening aboard the vessel and in its surroundings.

The process was comparable to autopilot—the helm would automatically adjust the ship’s course to avoid collisions with asteroids, debris, or creatures inhabiting space, and it would slow down when encountering obstacles.

However, magical ships were designed for space and Astral Plane travel. At cruising speed, they could travel 160 million kilometers in a single day, but within an atmosphere, their speed dropped to only a few dozen kilometers per hour.

For example, the helm on this ship, Starfiend, was relatively basic. Its flight speed in Faerûn was only 63 km/h—slower than a wyvern—but even so, this speed already surpassed most magical vessels.

Moreover, magical ships were not suitable for remaining stationary in space.

Although they came with a gravity plane and a magical air envelope, they did not generate air. If they stayed in space too long, the oxygen on board would be depleted, and suffocation would become a real risk.

Anser finally understood why the star pirates had established their base on the continent of Faerûn. They couldn’t stay in space, and docking at the Rock of Bral was too conspicuous—there weren’t many viable options.

He was extremely satisfied with today’s gains—he had obtained a magical ship for free and taken over a castle.

There was a stable teleportation circle here, and abandoning it would be a waste. If another one were built at Fort Jacqueline, traveling between the two locations would become much more convenient.

Anser ran his hand over the spelljamming helm and looked at Lin Qiancheng and the others, his gaze burning with intent.

They felt a chill in their hearts and instinctively grew wary, but thinking about the current magical environment, they could only sigh helplessly.

”What are your plans?” Anser asked with a gentle smile. He was short on helmsmen and very much wanted to keep these mages.

The others instinctively looked toward Lin Qiancheng. The atmosphere grew tense.

Lin Qiancheng remained silent. He wanted to leave but feared being stopped, caught in hesitation.

Anser waved his hand. His spellbook floated automatically to his side. After Maeve jumped onto his shoulder, he opened the book, flipped to one page, and gently tore it out.

At the top of the page was written: Mage Armor.

He handed the page to Lin Qiancheng.

”With the catastrophe descending, if you have nowhere to go, why not stay and face it together? Besides monetary compensation, I also have spell models adapted for magic-power casting.”

”The mainstream mage community is searching for this. A single spell model like this is worth two to three thousand pounds of gold.”

Lin Qiancheng took the page in surprise. It felt warm to the touch, and its contents shook him to the core. He couldn’t help but examine it carefully.

He was a traditional academy-trained mage, with a solid foundation and strong theoretical knowledge. It was easy for him to judge the authenticity and quality of a 1st-level spell.

Moen, standing nearby, paced back and forth anxiously but didn’t dare peek. Seeing Lin Qiancheng completely absorbed, he immediately turned to Anser: ”Sir, I’m very willing to stay.”

”You’re welcome,” Anser accepted without hesitation. ”You can call me Anser. I’m also a mage—let’s improve together.”

Don’t be fooled by how downcast the mage community seems right now—soon, a group of geniuses will recover their spellcasting abilities. And even if they can’t cast spells, so what? They are still among the most outstanding talents on Toril, capable of excelling at anything they do.

”Um…” Moen rubbed his hands together, unable to hide his impatience.

Outsiders found it hard to understand what it felt like to fall from the clouds into the dust, and even harder to grasp that near-maddened longing to cast spells again.

When an evocation mage loses their beloved Fireball, the rest of their life becomes dull and meaningless!

”Don’t rush. I’ll copy one out for you when I have time,” Anser reassured him. ”We’ll start with 1st-level spells—step by step.”

”I’ll stay as well.” Lin Qiancheng snapped out of his thoughts and spoke decisively.

”Pleasure working together.” Anser smiled like a fox.

At that moment, he finally understood the joy of being an academic overlord!

Afterward, he arranged for Lin Qiancheng and the others to rest. Then, after placing an Arcane Lock on the spelljamming helm, he hurried downstairs to deal with the prisoners.

Salian had already interrogated them and clarified the situation. This island was called White Stone Island, located more than two hundred kilometers northwest of Aglarond. Aside from this castle, there were four fishing villages on the island, with a population of roughly over a thousand.

And everything on the island was under Starfiend’s control.

Among the captives, one-third were civilians forcibly conscripted as servants. The rest were Starfiend’s henchmen, each carrying more than one life on their hands.

In the plaza, Salian had thoughtfully separated the crowd. On one side stood more than thirty civilians; on the other, over fifty star pirates crouched together, holding their heads.

Anser activated Detect Evil and Good and walked around the pirates. Sure enough, each of them was wrapped in varying degrees of black and red aura.

He stepped forward and declared loudly: ”Your crimes are grave beyond forgiveness. Therefore, I sentence you to death!”

The moment his words fell, a brilliant flash burst from his fingertips and landed among the crowd.

In the next instant, extreme cold energy erupted, forming a massive cloud of icy mist that turned dozens of star pirates into frozen statues. Some had just stood up and taken a step—but they would never take a second one.

A series of combat notifications flashed through Anser’s mind. After carefully checking and confirming that no one was feigning death, he finally relaxed.

Bratt thought he was feeling uneasy and stepped forward, lightly patting his shoulder.

”Some people’s evil may not come from their original intent, but evil is still evil. Forgiveness and redemption are the gods’ domain—our job is simply to send them to meet those gods.”

”I’m fine,” Anser said calmly.

He glanced at his pocket watch. Nearly an hour had passed, and the return formation was about to expire—he needed to head back quickly.

Because he had not verified the coordinates of the Rock of Bral. If they were fake, he would be completely unable to return.

”I’ll leave this place to you. Seal the city gates for now, don’t contact the outside world, keep an eye on those mages, and guard the teleportation circle and the dragonfly ship,” he instructed. ”I will definitely be back tomorrow morning.”

”Don’t worry.” Salian smiled, deeply satisfied.

He had spent his whole life as a pirate without achieving much. Yet now Anser had already begun striking at star pirates—this surprise was more than he had expected.

Anser nodded, took out the Teleportation Cube, and pressed the side engraved with the return formation’s rune sequence onto the ground. After maintaining concentration for one minute, a teleportation circle appeared on the ground.

He stepped into the formation. With a flash of light, man and cat returned once more to the eleventh floor of the Black Tower.

Then he activated the Rod of Security and successfully returned to the Burrows District.

It might seem a bit roundabout, but this was necessary to return to the Rock of Bral. The rod only stored the coordinates of the Burrows District—if it were activated midway, the coordinates would switch.

Anser listened carefully. Osborn’s house was completely quiet; everyone was fast asleep.

’First, I’ll draft two magical contracts.’

He took out two blank contracts and began considering the wording.

Mages generally had high intelligence, but character did not correlate with intelligence. Verbal agreements were nowhere near as reliable as magical contracts.

He planned to level up after finishing the contracts.

At level 10, he would gain two more 5th-level spells, a feat, and an enhanced Metamagic—his strength would increase significantly.

This was the final level of the elite tier. Advancing further would place him among high-level professionals, and the detection ability of the dice would likely improve along with it.

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