Chapter 119: The Path of the Dossier (Ten Thousand Words Completed)

The next day, Zhao Xu met Antinoya again in her office at the Obelisk. By this time, his emotions had stabilized, and the sharp, restless edge he had been carrying was completely contained.

When Zhao Xu had died under the black dragon’s breath and traversed back ten years, his heart had been filled with a mix of bewilderment and resignation. Deep down, he could not even be certain if this was merely a dream. He feared that after ten years of struggle, he might simply wake up back on the day the game launched, forever trapped in a ten-year cycle. It was only after witnessing the slaughter yesterday that he finally awoke from his drift. He realized there were things in life worth pursuing with every fiber of his being.

"It seems you’ve gained quite a bit this time," Antinoya remarked. Surprisingly, she was sitting on the sofa with her legs crossed, reading the daily bulletin, and clearly in a good mood. Zhao Xu noticed that her hood seemed to be a different style; the shadow beneath it was less profound, allowing him to discern the contours of her fair face.

"Oh, I have something I need to give you first," Zhao Xu said, pulling the "small pamphlet" given to him by Mage Ryan from his handy haversack. "I encountered a mage who called himself Ryan in a mysterious mine near the Mid-Isle Forest. He asked me to pass this on to you. He meant for you, Mentor, to have the right of first choice." Zhao Xu sat up straight, recalling Ryan's words.

"Self-delusional," Antinoya said with a light wave of her hand. The power of a *Mage Hand* snatched the booklet and sent it flying directly into the incense burner in the corner. Within moments, the pamphlet curled, smoked, and blackened under the heat of the flames.

Zhao Xu was stunned. The booklet that Tarke had died to obtain was, in Antinoya’s eyes, worth less than a stick of incense. "Mentor, do you refuse to accept anything from that Mage Ryan?" Zhao Xu couldn't help but wonder if Ryan had offended her more deeply than he realized.

In his previous life, the human race on Earth had obtained the "Legacy of the Ithel Dynasty," but it had failed to save the dynasty, serving at best as restoration funds for later generations. But the secret hoard of Ernest, the Archmage King—that was something even gods would covet. Most gods in Aether, aside from a few powerful deities, lacked personal emotions; they were fused with their divine ranks, portfolios, and alignments, becoming little more than abstract symbols. Divinity itself was a process of stripping away humanity. If even a god could feel greed, the value of that hoard was unimaginable.

Antinoya suddenly pointed a finger at Zhao Xu. The gesture sent a tremor through his heart—not because he was charmed by her delicate finger, but because it was the standard starting gesture for the seventh-level death spell, *Finger of Death*. It was such a famous spell that even children in Aether used it while playing. But while children were just playing, Antinoya’s gesture could easily be a *Finger of Death* or even the ninth-level spell *Power Word: Kill*.

Ten seconds passed, but Zhao Xu remained unchanged. "Mentor?" he asked helplessly. He felt that after a week apart, she had reverted to the mischievous girl he first met.

"Ah?" Antinoya finally spoke. "Oh, I was just reading this report and pondering how a *Finger of Death* successfully bypassed a mage’s protective barrier to kill them. It’s strange—has the level of ordinary mages in Aether fallen so much since the Age of Calamity? A *Finger of Death* can actually kill someone now?"

Listening to her grumble, Zhao Xu wanted to retort that a seventh-level mage was hardly "ordinary."

"Mentor, I asked earlier if you were refusing the items from that Mage Ryan," Zhao Xu repeated, feeling uneasy about the destruction of such an important item.

"You feel it’s hard to accept that the item you worked so hard to bring back was burned by me, don't you?" Antinoya pulled a heavy magic tome to her side.

"It wasn't hard work," Zhao Xu said out of habit.

"Not hard work? I saw you even used *Shapechange*," she teased.

"Mentor, that was their hard work, not mine," he replied. He remembered using the ninth-level *Shapechange* spell, which he had attached to himself, and engaging in brutal, physical combat. It had been exhilarating, but incredibly expensive. A scroll for a ninth-level spell cost 300 gold pieces, and for an ordinary person to cast it, they needed a high enough *Use Magic Device* skill. He finally understood how much effort Antinoya had put into that spell. A surge of gratitude filled his heart.

"Well, that fool Ryan just thinks too much," Antinoya said, spinning the book in her hand. "He thought he was the only clever person in the floating city, the only one who could see through the world. He thought we, the elite, held the power of the Mage Association, so he looked down on us. Then the Goddess didn't look upon him, cutting off his path as a cleric. Over the years, he’s been isolated and started imagining that we are just puppets of the association, used to neutralize internal conflicts. He’s been wrong about everything from the start."

Zhao Xu sensed a deeper meaning, but he was surprised to hear her refer to herself as one of the "elite." "Mentor, are you from a mage family as well?"

"Oh, did that gossip Ryan not tell you my full name?"

Zhao Xu’s interest piqued. "Forget it, I’ll tell you: Ithel Antinoya."

A thunderbolt struck Zhao Xu’s mind. He finally understood why Ryan wanted him to give the booklet to her. Legend had it the legacy of the Ithel Dynasty was in the hands of the Ithel descendants. "Mentor, so you are the last princess?"

"Who told you that?" Antinoya said blandly. "I burned the booklet because I knew it was a trap. If you want to participate in such matters, reach at least level 5 first. Then you’ll be qualified to listen—but only to listen."

She shifted the topic. "Ryan is just a fool grasping at straws. He thought that because Ernest could once demand a soul back from Asmodeus, his secret hoard would contain such means. He didn't stop to think that was only possible for someone with that specific face—and he doesn't have it."

Antinoya stood up and placed the book back on the shelf. "Tell me about your adventures."

Zhao Xu recounted his journey from Hurricane City to meeting the druids, entering the mine, and finally the battle in the rain at Crescent Town.

"Not bad, though you relied on three trump cards and kept courting death. Still, since you have *Shapechange*, it would be a waste not to show off. You just dealt with too low a level. If you had dared to attack the eighth-level Ryan without a word, I would have given you an A."

Zhao Xu gritted his teeth. If he could have gained the spellcasting abilities of the creatures he turned into, he would have fought back. But he had turned into a Solar, and he lacked the twenty levels of clerical spellcasting that came with it.

"Forget it. I shouldn't expect too much from you. If you were as smart as me, it would mean you were my equal."

"Yes, yes, my intelligence is only one-third of yours," Zhao Xu flattered. "But it really was thanks to your ninth-level spell."

"Oh, that was nothing. The *Persistent Spell* feat allows a mage to infuse spells into a willing creature. Now that you’ve reached level 2, you have 2 Hit Dice and can have two spells infused simultaneously."

"Does it cost money?" Zhao Xu asked quietly.

"Of course. Spell level multiplied by caster level, times 100 gold pieces—that’s the market rate," she said casually. 9 x 25 x 100 = 22,500 gold pieces. Zhao Xu felt a pang of heartache as he calculated the cost.

"You feel the pain?" Antinoya looked at him with curiosity.

"Yes," he admitted.

"That was my money. Why are you pained?" she asked, tilting her head. "Besides, if you want, I can get you two more. I have over thirty spells hanging on me right now."

As expected of a thirty-plus-level legendary mage. Zhao Xu was stunned.

"Now that you’re level 2, I can arrange your Factotum lessons. Don't worry, it’s just a few new abilities to master; you already know the basics. But don't leave Mystra until you’re level 5. Being too weak will embarrass me."

"Then, Mentor, shall we take the portal?" Zhao Xu remembered the black-robed mage mentioning the other Factotum apprentice took a different portal.

"No need," Antinoya replied lightly.

"Aren't we going to a special training location?"

"What are you thinking?" Antinoya stared at him, wide-eyed. "I told you from the very beginning: I am a dual-elite mage and Factotum with potential points."