The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

An Iron Golem stood guard at the entrance of Otto Mage Tower. Over four meters tall, its massive steel armor gleamed with a cold metallic sheen. Faint red light flickered within its eye sockets, radiating an overwhelming sense of pressure.

Anser stared at it in stunned silence, his heart filled with awe.

This was a Challenge Rating 16 Iron Golem!

It only looked bulky and slow. In reality, its physical capabilities were astonishing. Its Strength score was typically above 24, and aside from being unable to fly and having somewhat poor reflexes and balance, it had virtually no weaknesses.

Its low Intelligence wasn’t a flaw, because it always fought under a spellcaster’s command.

If one had to point out a drawback, it would be that Iron Golems were immune to most transmutation spells. Alter Self, Slow, and even Water Walk had no effect on them. Beneficial spells such as Fly, Haste, and Longstrider were equally useless.

”Now that is a true weapon of war,” Anser praised.

Mason lightly touched the Iron Golem and stored it away into some unknown extradimensional space.

That was another advantage of constructs.

”The Magic Research Society strictly forbids the use of golems in wars across the Realms,” Jiandar said solemnly. ”Besides, golems are incredibly expensive to build, and their numbers have always been limited.”

Anser’s eyes shifted slightly.

”Do we sell knowledge related to golem construction?” he asked cautiously.

”Heh.” Jiandar immediately saw through Anser’s intentions. Stroking his beard, he smiled. ”We do, but the exchange requirements are quite demanding...”

He checked the time. There was still plenty of time before the scheduled appointment, so he decided to take this new member around the Society and introduce him to its benefits and regulations.

The Magic Research Society possessed thirteen mage towers, corresponding to thirteen different factions. Each faction pursued a distinct academic direction and specialized in different fields.

The Otto Mage Tower, where Jiandar belonged, was renowned for Conjuration and Transmutation, and most of its resident wizards specialized in those two schools.

The reason for this specialization was simple: magic itself was difficult. Without a mentor’s guidance, possessing knowledge alone was often not enough to master a spell.

As for the construct-making techniques Anser wanted, the Society did possess them, but they did not fall under the category of basic knowledge.

Basic knowledge could be purchased with Academic Points and was relatively easy to obtain.

Advanced knowledge, however, could only be exchanged through Academic Contributions. It functioned much like a knowledge-for-knowledge trade, similar to the system used by Candlekeep.

In fact, knowledge exchange permeated every level of the Magic Research Society’s structure.

But knowledge did not appear out of thin air. To foster a better academic environment, the Society provided its members with exceptional research conditions and outstanding magical facilities.

For example, members received private estates or villas, could allow family members to enter the demiplane as a refuge, attended weekly academic symposiums, and enjoyed strong protections for intellectual property rights.

The only reason Anser had been able to join so easily was because he had benefited from the opportunities of the current era.

”The mage tower most skilled in golem construction is Eglin Mage Tower. When you have time, you should visit and observe their work,” Jiandar suggested.

Anser silently committed that information to memory.

He still had two damaged Shield Guardians that he couldn’t currently use. Perhaps he could ask the Society to repair them and use the opportunity to build a relationship with a spellcaster skilled in golem construction.

If he could recruit such a person into the Adventuring Party, even better.

Learning by imitation was far easier than studying everything from scratch.

”Do the thirteen mage towers represent thirteen legendary spellcasters?” Anser changed the subject and finally voiced a question that had been lingering in his mind. ”Are they... still alive?”

”Only the current President is still around. The others haven’t appeared for a very long time,” Jiandar replied with a helpless expression.

The current President practically handled nothing. All responsibilities had been delegated to the Executive President.

If his term hadn’t yet expired—and if there were someone willing to succeed him—the current President would probably have disappeared as well.

”The Society isn’t exactly stable internally these days. Your appearance has already sparked quite a bit of controversy. If someone approaches you, stay alert,” Mason suddenly warned, a trace of coldness flashing through his eyes.

This operation had not gone nearly as smoothly as it seemed.

After the proposal was submitted, many members opposed it. They insisted on discussing and studying the matter further.

But time waited for no one.

There was no room for delay.

Mason could only join forces with several mage towers to barely assemble the construct lineup before them. They had come dangerously close to making fools of themselves in front of a newcomer.

Anser paused for a moment. Looking at the spellcasters hurrying about around him, he silently acknowledged the point.

Wherever there are people, there will be conflicts.

As a group of highly intelligent individuals, wizards rarely counted among the devout, and their moral standards were famously flexible. Scheming against one’s peers for personal gain was all too common.

At the moment, he belonged to Otto Mage Tower, and the tower also received a share of the profits from his spell model sales. That was why everyone there treated him quite courteously.

But there were undoubtedly people in the other factions who didn’t like the sight of him.

By the time Anser finished touring the nine floors of Otto Mage Tower, an hour had already passed. It was just after nine o’clock.

The three returned to the small plaza outside the tower. Mason raised his left hand and gently rubbed the moss-covered stone ring on his index finger.

”Let’s go. We can head over early and take a look around. It’s been a long time since I last left.”

Seeing that neither of the others objected, he silently recited an incantation, removed the ring, and tossed it forward.

The ring landed on the ground and instantly expanded into a circular stone portal floating just above the surface.

Through the portal, the faint outline of a great river could be seen.

Without hesitation, Mason stepped through first, followed by Jiandar.

Tap, tap.

Anser’s boots touched solid stone. The sound of rushing water filled his ears, and damp river mist washed over him.

When he turned around, the portal rapidly shrank, reverting into a ring that flew back into Mason’s hand.

Anser examined it for a few moments but didn’t ask any questions. What puzzled him more was why the Magic Research Society still hadn’t managed to contact Candlekeep despite Mason possessing such a convenient teleportation item.

What exactly happened at Candlekeep...

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

He looked around and immediately spotted the ruins of a castle about a hundred meters away.

Blackened. Crumbling. Desolate.

Not a single blade of grass grew within several hundred meters of it. Only traces of its former grandeur remained.

Staring northeast, Jiandar spoke in a distant tone. ”Over there... that’s the Eye of Hell.”

The group stood atop a high cliff with an unobstructed view.

Following Jiandar’s gaze, Anser indeed saw an enormous black crater on the opposite bank, though it was too far away to make out clearly.

After the holy city of Elturel narrowly escaped the Blood War of Hell, a positioning error prevented it from returning to its original location. Instead, it reappeared farther upstream along the River Chionthar, not far from Scornubel.

Even now, Elturel struggled to escape the scars of its past and the shadow of Hell. Though it remained the center of Elturgard, it had long since lost both the status and prosperity of a holy city.

Anser raised a hand and released the pseudodragon Rex from his pocket dimension.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mason and Jiandar doing the same.

A pseudodragon, a raven, and a blue hawk.

The three flying familiars soared into the sky and instinctively spread out in different directions.

”Oh? A pseudodragon.” Mason looked surprised. ”I’ve heard they’re difficult to take care of.”

”It’s not that bad.”

Anser barely had to do anything himself. Maeve kept Rex thoroughly in line. The little fellow was obedient as could be.

”That’s a level of affinity worth envying,” Jiandar laughed.

After conducting aerial reconnaissance through their familiars, they discovered a town several kilometers west of the fortress ruins.

It wasn’t particularly large or small, with a population of roughly three to five thousand.

The opposite bank marked the edge of the Dead Lands.

The riverbanks were lush and green, but the farther northwest one looked, the more barren the landscape became. Vegetation thinned until only a silent wasteland remained, as though even birds were unwilling to linger there.

Less than two hours remained before the agreed meeting time, yet none of the familiars had spotted any dark elves across the river.

”Don’t rush. Give the familiars some time,” Mason said calmly.

The terrain around the River Chionthar was complicated, and the Dead Lands covered a vast area. It was easy for people to hide there.

As long as they didn’t cross the river, it would be difficult for anyone to ambush them, making their position relatively safe.

At worst, this trip would simply turn out to be a waste of time.

Anser set up the Farseeing Scope and slowly adjusted its angle, quietly observing the nearby town.

If the refugees around Baldur’s Gate fled eastward, then this place...

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