The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The hall was eerily silent. The wounded gritted their teeth, refusing to let out even a single groan.

The three major factions each occupied one side of the chamber. The Church of Myrkul and the Cowled Wizards seemed to be forming a loose alliance, yet the most imposing force was actually the contingent from Thay.

At their head stood a red-robed vampire, chin slightly raised. Blood stained his fingers and the corner of his mouth, while a twisted, arrogant grin spread across his face, as though he didn’t regard anyone else present as worthy of his attention.

Yet the one who had called a halt to the fighting wasn’t him.

It was Sosk, the gray-robed alchemist standing in the middle of the hall.

Pointing at the dozen or so prisoners who had just been rescued from their magical shackles, he snapped, ”Do any of you have a brain? Take a good look. Do you see your leaders among them?”

His hoarse, rasping voice echoed through the chamber, making the already oppressive atmosphere even heavier.

”You’ve all been used. There’s someone else here!” he growled, unable to hide his irritation.

”I don’t care about that.” One of the Cowled Wizards stepped forward, his voice icy. ”We agreed everyone would take what they came for. So tell me this—why did you attack our people? And where is our First Wizard?”

The members of the Church of Myrkul looked equally grim. Compared to whoever might still be hiding in the shadows, the disappearance of their High Priest was a far more pressing problem.

”Our... leader is gone as well. They’re all trapped on the other side of the Teleportation Circle. Maybe they won’t be able to come back until the next full moon.”

Sosk coughed lightly before suddenly realizing he wasn’t actually one of the Red Wizards.

”Keep making things up. If that’s really the case, then why are you all still waiting here instead of—”

”He’s telling the truth.”

A black-robed cleric still bound in magical shackles slowly sat up, raising his chained hands to wipe the blood from his face.

Beside him, a warrior grabbed the chain and twisted it with all his strength. The harsh screech of grinding metal rang out, but aside from leaving a few pale scratches, the shackles remained completely intact.

”The key,” the warrior demanded, glaring at Sosk. ”Hand it over.”

Sosk glanced at the vampire, who was resting with his eyes closed, then spread his hands helplessly.

”It’s over there. Can’t you tell how clean this place is?”

Silence settled over the hall once again.

The Church of Myrkul and the Cowled Wizards gathered around their own people, quietly asking what had happened earlier.

Sosk offered no explanation for why his side had struck first.

Nor did he need to.

They had been the ones to break their verbal agreement and make the first dirty move.

The other two factions weren’t any better. Given the chance, they would have done exactly the same. Pointing fingers at each other now was meaningless.

The only reason he’d managed to stop the fighting wasn’t because of any damned prestige.

It was because everyone had underestimated the others’ strength and realized that if the battle continued, all three sides would be crippled.

Even victory would be a pyrrhic one.

Knowing someone else was waiting to reap the benefits, no matter how furious they were, they had no choice but to hold themselves back.

”Come out. I know you’re there.”

The vampire, who had remained silent the entire time, suddenly turned toward a pillar in the far corner.

Anser raised an eyebrow but didn’t move.

Only after he heard footsteps approaching did he slowly step out from behind the pillar, calm and composed, looking as though he were out on a leisurely stroll.

’A vampire’s senses really are absurd.’ He couldn’t help admiring them inwardly.

”It’s you!”

Sosk froze, his expression complicated.

”I’m glad you survived, Sosk.”

Anser spoke warmly, though his expression remained somewhat cold.

When Sosk had first invited him to explore the ruins together, he probably hadn’t had good intentions either.

Earlier, Sosk had claimed to be nothing more than a wandering Wizard. Yet somehow he’d managed to work alongside both the Church of Myrkul and the Red Wizards, even spending several days cooperating with a death knight.

His talent for playing every side was certainly remarkable.

”You shouldn’t have come, Anser.” Sosk knew Anser was quite capable and could fly exceptionally fast, but judging from his past accomplishments, he was nowhere near strong enough to take on a vampire.

He looked like a man who could thrive with every faction, but in reality, he was walking on thin ice. He knew full well that this incident was far beyond the scope of someone as insignificant as a Sorcerer.

The priests of the Church of Myrkul and the members of the Cowled Wizards also changed expressions, their eyes locking onto Anser all at once.

The name Anser was all too familiar.

Both factions had crossed paths with him before, and not that long ago.

What a coincidence.

”Have you seen a Wizard named Brunhilde?” Anser asked calmly.

Facing a group of spellcasters who couldn’t even cast Wall of Force, what was there for him to be nervous about?

”A very beautiful female Wizard?”

”That’s right.”

Sosk raised a thumb and pointed behind him at the circular Teleportation Circle, curling the corner of his mouth. The meaning couldn’t have been more obvious.

”Who is he?” the vampire suddenly asked. He had been watching Anser the entire time, his eyes filled with naked greed.

”Anser Holrewen, President of the Durlag Union. A genius Sorcerer.” Sosk slowly closed his eyes, as though he couldn’t bear what was about to happen.

The vampire spread his arms and bared his fangs in a grin.

”I’ll give you the chance to submit. Become one of my spawn and serve me for all eternity—”

”Hold that thought. I’m in a hurry.”

Anser raised a hand and cut him off before turning back to Sosk.

”What’s on the other side of the Teleportation Circle?”

”Raaagh! Look at me!”

With a shrill screech, the vampire threw his head back, his face twisting into a savage snarl. He became a crimson blur and lunged at Anser in an instant.

With a thought, Anser stepped into the Ethereal Plane and rapidly cast Intellect Fortress, Fly, Fire Shield, Mage Armor, False Life, Divine Favor, and several other spells on himself.

Most spells couldn’t cross the barrier between planes, but spells cast on oneself wouldn’t dissipate simply because of planar travel.

The vampire’s attack struck empty air.

Staring at the now-empty hall, he threw back his head and let out a furious roar.

Anser had expected as much.

He had already noticed that the vampire was mentally unstable. Although powerful, he clearly held less authority than Sosk.

Transforming into his half-dragon form, Anser entered his Transcendent Form, Euryale’s Aegis in his left hand and the Sword of Sharpness in his right.

Taking a single step, he abruptly emerged behind the vampire.

His elegant blade pierced through the air, trailing brilliant platinum radiance.

The vampire had already been on guard. He dodged sideways, his claws appearing in front of Anser’s chest at the same moment.

Anser smoothly turned his thrust into a rising slash.

The instant the vampire caught sight of the holy radiance enveloping the sword, his eyes widened. He immediately withdrew his hand, abandoning the attack altogether.

The two moved with astonishing speed, crossing past each other in a blur that whipped up fierce gusts of wind.

Completely contrary to everyone’s expectations, it was the seemingly overwhelming vampire who was being suppressed.

Forced onto the defensive, he dared not meet Anser head-on and looked increasingly disheveled.

This was the true state of an undead facing a Paladin.

With Transcendent Form II active, Anser’s melee prowess was on par with a martial specialist. His attacks were powered by his extraordinary 25 Charisma, further enhanced by the Sword of Sharpness, Divine Favor, and Divine Smite.

How could an undead possibly dare trade blows with him?

If the vampire failed to dodge even a single strike, he would suffer a devastating wound—or have an entire body part severed on the spot.

The vampire’s few counterattacks were all intercepted by Anser’s shield at precisely the right moment.

They never even touched his dragon scales.

The vampire’s greatest advantages were his incredible reflexes and Legendary Resistance. Those strengths prevented Anser from turning his battlefield dominance into a decisive victory.

Again and again, attacks that looked certain to kill were narrowly avoided by the vampire.

’So... I’ve actually become this strong.’

The longer Anser fought, the more confident he became.

After all, he still hadn’t used a single one of his strongest trump cards.

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I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> /TitoVillar

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