Iris looked at Anser with a half-smile. After just a few days apart, she could already pick up a trace of naked desire in the occasional glance he gave her.
And yet, just when he was about to have his way, he insisted on running off to that desolate extraplanar space. Other than fighting, she couldn't think of anything that could possibly be more appealing than her.
"Rock of Bral is a hub in Wildspace. It's not something we can just give up," Anser said with a shrug.
He wasn't rushing toward chaos for no reason—the position of the Rock of Bral was simply too important.
Without that commercial route, his so-called Commercial Community would be crippled—its scale and prestige cut in half, lacking any real appeal.
"Your safety matters more," Iris said, unconvinced. "Besides, your Teleportation Circle has a limited duration. What if you run out of time and can't make it back?"
"I'm just going to take a look. It's been this long—the fighting over there should be finished by now," Anser reassured her.
He had a pile of life-saving equipment, and he was still holding onto a [Fate] card—basically two lives. Killing him wouldn't be that easy.
Iris sighed helplessly. She knew Anser had a mind of his own—there was no persuading him. Saying more would only be a waste of breath.
Being with a man like this was, in many ways, exhausting.
"Remember your objective. Don't get carried away."
"I know."
Back in the bedroom, under Iris's watchful gaze, Anser teleported into Holrewen.
He didn't head to the Rock of Bral immediately. Instead, he entered the spherical astrolabe orbital array and carefully studied the complex large-scale formation.
"Meow, do you even understand what you're looking at? You're biting off more than you can chew," Maeve said lazily, opening her eyes from where she had been napping inside the array.
Anser flicked his hand—smack—and sent the spellbook sliding away.
The book carried Maeve along with it, drifting unsteadily to the other side of the formation.
"Meow~" she protested, clearly dissatisfied, though her languid lounging posture didn't change in the slightest.
"Lady Maeve, if you've got time to sleep, why not help me copy a few spell scrolls?" Anser complained even more.
He had already seen through her—this black cat was even lazier than he was, with none of a wizard's discipline or diligence.
"Meow? They're just first- and second-ring spells. What's the point of copying them?" Maeve said dismissively.
"They can be sold, and they can save your life… forget it." Anser waved it off, no longer in the mood to argue.
While traveling, he had also tried copying spell scrolls himself under Lin Qiancheng's guidance.
And then he realized—it simply wasn't cost-effective. It took eight hours of continuous work to complete a single first-ring scroll, and that didn't even include the cost of special parchment.
A second-ring scroll required three days. A fifth-ring one took at least twenty-five days. The work didn't have to be continuous, but it absolutely couldn't contain any mistakes.
It was clear: copying spell scrolls was a time-consuming, high-difficulty craft that demanded extreme concentration.
The Wizardly Quill could save him time and ink, but it couldn't automatically complete the process. After all, copying spells and creating spell scrolls were two entirely different things.
Converting spells into scrolls—that was a legendary effect of the Book of Castella. One scroll per day.
Right now, he only knew first- and second-ring wizard spells, so the value of copying them wasn't particularly high. Doing it occasionally was more like building up technical experience for higher-ring spells in the future.
Ignoring Maeve's interference, Anser continued studying the astrolabe orbital array.
After a long while, he placed his hand on one of the astral nodes, his voice filled with excitement.
"So this array really does incorporate a Teleportation Circle…"
"Meow, obviously," Maeve said, startled for a moment—she had thought he'd discovered something groundbreaking.
The astrolabe orbital array was a massive composite formation, complete with its own mana pool, surveillance functions, teleportation system, and divination shielding. The Rod of Security was the key to controlling it.
Whether it was the cross-planar transfer of people and objects, or the free teleportation within the Black Tower, all of it was built upon the astrolabe orbital array—far more powerful than a Teleportation Circle.
"So if there's a teleportation circle, there has to be coordinates…" He focused his senses, and sure enough, he detected layers upon layers of hidden rune sequences—accessible only to him.
"Meow, useless," Maeve said, flipping over and crouching atop the spellbook. "This is a closed teleportation circle. Even if you know the rune sequence, other teleportation circles still can't connect to it."
"But the Rod of Security is an exception," Anser said with confidence.
He picked up the spellbook and used the Wizardly Quill to record the abstract rune sequence onto its pages.
The Rod of Security was like a one-of-a-kind key. As long as he possessed it, he could, from anywhere, use a teleportation circle to go directly to Holrewen—and then, with the aid of the rod, return to the exact location where he had first entered Holrewen.
With that, he could use Holrewen as a relay point, freely traveling between White Stone Island and the Rock of Bral.
If he was going to do it, he might as well do it now. Still, just in case, Anser first set up a return circle on the eleventh floor. Only then did he cast a teleportation spell, opening a portal leading to the Rock of Bral.
The basement was pitch black. With his shield raised, he moved slowly to the doorway and listened carefully. Outside, there was nothing but silence—eerily quiet.
He didn't go out. Instead, he returned to the center of the circle and began casting again, concentrating.
"ગુપ્તઆંખો."
A low draconic incantation echoed. An invisible Arcane Eye formed silently in midair, slipped through the crack in the door, and floated upward, circling the three-story stone building.
After confirming everything inside was normal, the Arcane Eye flew out through the chimney, drifting low along the streets.
The street was somewhat disordered, stained with blood, but it had clearly been tidied up—no corpses, no wounded, no valuables left behind.
'They probably won. At least things didn't spiral out of control.' Anser let out a quiet sigh of relief.
At that moment, through the Arcane Eye, he noticed a faint glow of fire ahead. He immediately directed the eye toward it. As soon as it rounded the corner, the flames flared brightly, and countless figures came into view.
A massive nautiloid had crashed in the central plaza. Nearly two hundred people had it surrounded—adventurers, Githzerai, and even more uniformed guards.
A perimeter had been set up outside the encirclement to prevent others from approaching.
As the Arcane Eye drew closer, although he couldn't hear any sound, he could tell from their movements and expressions that fighting was still ongoing inside the vessel.
And likely intense—because injured individuals were being carried out from time to time.
The guards' first action wasn't to treat the wounded, but to restrain them tightly, inspect them, and only then provide medical aid.
Anser understood immediately—this was clearly to guard against infection by mind flayer tadpoles or parasitism by Intellect Devourer!
'This nautiloid isn't the one at the docks!'
He quickly reached that conclusion—the ship was noticeably larger.
'What's going on? Are Mind Flayer attacking the Rock of Bral? No way… those schemers never act without certainty.'
A nautiloid was a specialized magical vessel of the mind flayers, powered by psionics. It was incredibly expensive, capable of interplanar travel, able to come and go freely. To shoot one down—this wasn't something ordinary adventurers could accomplish.
'Why didn't the mind flayers escape?' Fully developed mind flayers possessed the ability to shift between planes.
The question had just formed when he noticed a floating inverted pyramid beside the nautiloid—over a meter tall, radiating blue light. Its magical fluctuations were almost tangible, rippling outward in waves through the surrounding space.
Four figures in court-style robes with golden patterns stood guard beside it, each holding a staff or wand, their expressions solemn.
'Could this be some kind of spatial-locking magic item?' he speculated.
Such things were rare. It seemed the Rock of Bral had prepared in advance—and with the presence of the Githzerai…
From that, one conclusion followed: the mind flayers were the prey.
'Count me in. I can play too…'
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