The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The purple emblem on that person’s forehead was easy to recognize: a left hand outlined in flames and pointing upward. It was unmistakably the holy symbol of Azuth, the God of Wizards.

Azuth had once been the most powerful human wizard on Faerûn. He was the first Magister and chief advisor of the goddess of magic, Mystra, and was also known as the Patron of Wizards, the High One, the Lord of Spells, and the Hand of Mysteries. His divine domains were Mysteries and Knowledge, and his alignment was Lawful Neutral.

Hardly anyone besides wizards worshipped Azuth.

His presence was relatively faint. Priests and temples devoted to him were extremely rare, and his portfolio was broad and scattered, touching on general domains such as magic, knowledge, writing, and language.

Azuth belonged to Mystra’s divine faction. No matter the era or event, he had never been associated with evil gods.

’Could it be... that the chosen of the evil god is actually me?’ Anser’s thoughts churned chaotically as countless possibilities flooded his mind.

More and more inconsistencies now seemed suspicious. Why had the divine oracle left no name behind? Why had it chosen a casual believer like him...?

And the way divinity identified godsworn was brutally straightforward.

As long as the two sides came within a certain distance of each other, their divinity would immediately react and manifest itself, allowing both parties—and everyone nearby—to witness it.

Fortunately, the godsworn had only just appeared, and fortunately, it happened under these circumstances. Otherwise, the moment their holy symbols manifested, the two of them might have started fighting on the spot.

One could easily imagine that if godsworn were constantly attacked, they would inevitably become paranoid and gradually lose trust in other godsworn.

’This luck of mine... is it good or bad?’ He had never imagined that on the very first day he obtained divinity, he would encounter another godsworn.

Fighting was definitely out of the question. He wanted to first use Iris’s connection to understand what was really going on. Presumably, a chosen of Azuth should be relatively rational... right?

Beside him, Iris had just raised her hand when she immediately sensed that something was wrong.

A symbol lit up on Brunhilde’s forehead as she stared at Anser from afar, her expression cold and severe while rings of magical radiance rippled around her body.

As the twin-horse carriage drew closer, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Even the surrounding knights and guards sensed that something was off. Their previously relaxed expressions tightened, and their hands unconsciously moved toward their sword hilts.

”You know each other?” Iris raised a hand to stop the carriage and knights from approaching, then turned toward Anser, anxiety visible in her eyes.

One side was her father’s friend, an elder who had watched her grow up. The other was the man she had chosen for herself. If the two of them shared some deep grudge, she had no idea what she should do.

”We don’t know each other. Look carefully at the emblem on her forehead. She’s one of Azuth’s godsworn...” Anser used Telepathy to explain the oracle and his own suspicions to Iris.

Iris’s expression shifted uncertainly. Only after he finished did she quietly ask, ”Aren’t you a paladin of Bahamut?”

She reached out and touched Anser’s forehead. It was smooth and bare, with no holy symbol present.

”I never accepted the divinity because its origin was unknown,” Anser admitted honestly.

His divinity had never fused with his body. Instead, it had been intercepted by the dice, leaving behind only abilities such as warnings and detection.

”Who could it be?” Iris’s face turned icy as helplessness washed over her.

After all, this was the will of a god. What ability did mortals have to refuse? They could only passively accept it.

Anser wrapped an arm around her shoulders and jerked his chin toward the front.

”Forget about that for now. First, confirm whether this really is Brunhilde. If it is, then I think we should sit down and—”

Before he could finish speaking, the female elf suddenly spoke. Her voice was soft and delicate.

”Little Iris, your aunt is here, and you’re not even coming to greet me? Come here.”

Anser and Iris exchanged glances, then smiled at the same time.

”Wait for me.” Iris tossed those words behind her as she guided the flying carpet forward.

”Don’t get too close,” Anser hurriedly warned through Telepathy.

Iris pursed her lips without responding, but as she approached the elf woman, she noticeably slowed down instead of drawing near to the carriage—even though most of the surrounding knights had originally been dispatched by her.

”Ha, so you’re even guarding yourself against me.” The female elf raised a brow, holding a small green wand as she lightly tapped it toward Iris in the distance.

Iris’s expression turned awkward. That tone and those little mannerisms were far too familiar. There was basically no mistake.

Brunhilde was her father’s friend. When Iris was young, she had often guided and taught her, always calling herself her aunt. She had no partner and possessed an independent, strong-willed personality.

Iris flew over beside the carriage. Looking at that beautiful face that had barely changed over the years, countless memories flooded into her mind, and she instinctively called out, ”Auntie.”

”That’s more like it.” Brunhilde nodded in satisfaction. Then she grabbed Iris by the arm, pulled her close, and lowered her head to sniff at her. A moment later, her brows tightly furrowed.

”Dragon scent! Who is he?”

”My lover,” Iris admitted openly.

Humans usually referred to their spouses as husbands or wives, but among elves, lover was the more common term. She preferred it.

”You’ve lost your mind. He’s part of an evil cult!” Brunhilde lowered her voice, speaking with the frustration of someone disappointed by her junior’s poor judgment.

”He’s a paladin.”

”Hm?”

Seeing the suspicion written all over Brunhilde’s face, Iris immediately pulled out a bottle of holy water from her dimensional pouch.

”The entirety of Durlag knows about it.”

Brunhilde snatched the holy water away. Her expression shifted repeatedly—shock, confusion, even a faint sense that her worldview was collapsing.

”How could this happen? A divine oracle cannot be false.” She simply could not convince herself to believe otherwise.

”I’ll call him over so we can all talk this through together. But let’s agree on one thing first—you’re not allowed to attack him. You can’t beat him,” Iris proposed.

”I can’t beat him?” Brunhilde shot Iris a glare with her blue eyes, then slightly shook her head without arguing further. ”Call him over.”

If this had been in the past, she might not have been able to refute that. But after becoming one of the godsworn, most of her spellcasting ability had already recovered. She had also gained blessings and divine empowerment. A professional of the same rank simply could not be her opponent.

Iris immediately waved toward Anser in the distance.

A few minutes later, the three of them arrived at a pavilion within the nearby orchard.

Anser and Brunhilde sat facing one another, while Iris sat beside Anser.

That sight made Brunhilde grind her teeth in irritation. Combined with the burning sensation from the emblem on her forehead, her mood was anything but pleasant.

”You’re very strange. You can actually hide your holy symbol.” She stared at Anser again and again. She had to admit that he was extremely charming, and part of her genuinely wanted to trust him. But she could hardly suspect that the divine oracle itself was wrong.

”I’m not hiding it. I just never fused with it.”

”Hm?”

The two of them exchanged information back and forth, becoming increasingly confused.

What could be confirmed was that Brunhilde truly was a genuine godsworn. She had personally visited the divine kingdom of Azuth—the Heart of Spells—and spoken directly with the god himself.

After becoming godsworn, she had gained cleric abilities and divine blessings. Her magical spellcasting ability had risen dramatically, and she had also received an entire series of benefits granted through divinity.

By Anser’s understanding, those benefits likely included damage reduction, various resistances, bonuses to saving throws, danger warnings, and more. It was an all-around enhancement.

During the conversation, the dice accurately detected her information:

[Godsworn — Brunhilde, Elf, Level 16 Wizard (School of Illusion), Level 2 Cleric]

According to Brunhilde, the cleric levels had appeared out of nowhere, forcibly elevating a down-on-her-luck high-level wizard stuck at a bottleneck back to her peak state. The change had been enormous.

Anser did not envy her. He had no intention of fusing with this unknown divinity. Safety came first.

What he could not understand, however, was this: if divinity was truly this powerful, then why had the dice only valued it at ten thousand experience points?

’Dice, did you skim off a cut for yourself?’ he questioned inwardly.

The dice gave no response. It was merely the product of some kind of rule, possessing neither intelligence nor thought.

’Forget it. Maybe divinity itself is only a catalyst. These abilities probably come from the god’s blessings.’ That was his guess.

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