Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Awakening Hall

Until the next day when Zhao Xu logged into the game himself, he had not explained much to Zhang Qi. He also hadn’t told Zhang Qi that he had completed the transcription of zero-level spells, effectively becoming one of the first players to qualify as a wizard. If Zhang Qi, with his big mouth, knew about his progress, he would have loudly announced it to the entire class, eager to slap the faces of all the pretentious types. All Zhao Xu did was pat Zhang Qi on the shoulder and tell him to play well. The resurrection stone was the tuition players paid to Arthur; no matter how optimistic Zhao Xu was, Zhang Qi still had to dutifully hand it over.

When Zhao Xu logged in the next day, Antinoia arrived right on time as usual, as if her sudden disappearance yesterday had been nothing more than a rare incident. By then, Zhao Xu had already chosen the three first-level spells he wanted: Protection from Evil, Color Spray, and Magic Missile. Antinoia saw his choices and smiled gently, “The cost-performance ratio is pretty good. You players certainly have a keen eye.” Indeed, zero-level and first-level spells offered to players had long since been analyzed on the forums. All wizards learned every zero-level spell, but for first-level spells, everyone could only choose three, and then, depending on their Intelligence modifier, gain extra first-level spells. How to obtain second-level spells afterward was up to the wizards themselves. Thus, first-level spells in Arthur were no secret, but starting from second level, the forum lists began to show gaps; sometimes people only knew the general name, with no idea what the spell actually did.

Analyzing the strength of zero and first-level spells became a pastime for would-be wizards unable to transcribe zero-level spells. Judging by Antinoia’s expression, the forum-recognized powerful spells he had chosen were certainly not lacking.

“I have scrolls prepared for all these first-level spells. You can transcribe directly from them,” Antinoia said, producing three scrolls seemingly from thin air. Zhao Xu took them and felt their high-quality parchment, just like what he had seen in his previous life. The scrolls were about 20 by 30 centimeters, secured at both ends with slender strips, rolled inward like imperial decrees in period dramas. But they were inscribed with magic script, which would vanish once the scroll was used to cast a spell.

A scroll could record one or several spells, up to six. “Teacher, why give me scrolls instead of a spellbook?” Zhao Xu asked, puzzled. Scrolls served as spare spell slots, allowing players to cast directly from them without consuming their own spell slots. If a player had enough scrolls, he would be a walking cannon, with endless firepower, unlike the typical wizard who was a one-shot wonder in the early stages.

Wizards could transcribe spells from spellbooks without needing scrolls. Even though a first-level scroll cost only twenty-five gold pieces, cheaper than the transcription cost, nothing beat a free spellbook. “Just a few coins, and I’d have to go out of my way to find a spellbook for you. Too much trouble. These scrolls are enough,” Antinoia said indifferently.

Hearing this, Zhao Xu could only accept it quietly. Money makes the world go round, especially when the person before him could conjure up twenty-five thousand gold coins out of thin air.

“Before you transcribe these scrolls, let me give you some advice,” Antinoia said. Zhao Xu perked up, listening closely. The advice of a spell master was like an academician teaching undergraduates.

“There are no useless spells, only useless wizards.” “That’s nonsense. Forget it.” Zhao Xu hadn’t even fully absorbed the profundity of the first sentence before the second shook him. He wanted to point out that it was two sentences, but instead pondered the deeper meaning of Antinoia’s words.

“Some spells are just garbage, made by incompetent wizards, inherently weak. Our task as wizards is to sift through the mountain of spells and find the strongest, those that suit our style.” Hearing this, Zhao Xu nodded obediently, then returned to his desk, applied the stimulating ointment, and began transcribing the spells step by step, following the method he had learned.

Unlike the swift transcription of zero-level spells, for first-level spells, everyone took their time and studied for twenty-four hours to avoid mishaps. News about the first wizard to graduate had already spread after two days. The person was a prodigy, with an eidetic memory. Still, to pursue the record, he had given up extra first-level spells granted by his Intelligence modifier.

Zhao Xu wasn’t chasing speed; for him, steady progress was best. No one realized that the academy was the greatest haven in Arthur. He wished he could stay forever.

A character's first-level feat isn’t tied to their class, so some players weren’t in a hurry to choose, planning to decide during their adventures. Zhao Xu was different: he wouldn’t leave Mystra until he had learned four powerful feats.

For the next week, Zhao Xu devoted himself to the massive project of transcribing first-level spells. Even after finishing, there were no miraculous signs granted to protagonists. Later, he asked Antinoia about secrets and confirmed that wizards didn’t always experience phenomena when researching spells, much less when simply copying someone else’s spells.

By then, other talented players who had chosen the wizard class began to finish their training, becoming the second and third graduates. By the end of the second week of the game, Zhao Xu had just completed all his free first-level spells. The number of player wizards had barely passed one hundred.

Zhao Xu had a three-point Intelligence modifier, so the wizard association gave him three extra free spell transcriptions. This time, he consulted Antinoia, who recommended Mage Armor, Ray of Enfeeblement, and Translocation. The first two were common spells, but the last, Translocation, was a secret art, unavailable to other players except those with private tutors like Zhao Xu.

According to Antinoia, this spell was a variant of a displacement spell, useful in certain situations. Eventually, Zhao Xu’s spell list stabilized, at least until he had the money to transcribe new spells or level up.

Zero-level spells: Resistance, Acid Splash, Detect Poison, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Daze, Dancing Lights, Flare, Light, Ray of Frost, Ghost Sound, Disrupt Undead, Touch of Fatigue, Mage Hand, Mending, Message, Open/Close, Arcane Mark, Prestidigitation.

First-level spells: Protection from Evil, Color Spray, Magic Missile, Mage Armor, Ray of Enfeeblement, Translocation.

This was only a first-level wizard, yet he already commanded twenty-five spells, no wonder the wizard class was so unpopular in his previous life.

“Are you ready?” Antinoia asked, as the script on the final Translocation scroll faded.

“Ready for what?” Zhao Xu asked, confused.

“To take you to awaken as a wizard.”

Hearing this, Zhao Xu’s week-long numb fatigue vanished instantly—it was finally happening.

“Teacher, let’s go then. I have nothing to pack,” Zhao Xu said, standing up quickly. He was alone, a penniless wanderer, and even the spellbook wizards would risk their lives to save in a fire was something he kept memorized.

Seeing Antinoia not move to open the dormitory door, Zhao Xu thought she was waiting for him and hurried to open it himself. Suddenly, Antinoia’s figure flashed.

In an instant, Antinoia appeared before Zhao Xu, her snowy white arm reaching from her robe to grab his collar.

Fourth-level Arcane Gate!

No gestures were needed—just an incantation to teleport the target anywhere within range. His Translocation spell was a much weaker version of this.

Before Zhao Xu could think further, he felt the force pulling at his collar, familiar from passing through portals.

He realized he could resist the spell’s effect, but this was his tutor; if she meant to kill him, a fireball would suffice. So, Zhao Xu relaxed and followed the spell’s guidance. In times like these, best to grab onto the powerful and not overthink.

Instantly, in a nondescript bedroom of the floating city, two figures dissolved into white light and vanished.

When Zhao Xu came to his senses, he found himself standing in a grand hall resembling a theater. At the front was a throne-like silver seat, shimmering with metallic luster. Surrounding the throne were magic runes carved directly into the floor—despite days of study, Zhao Xu was utterly baffled.

At the back of the hall, tiered seats were arranged in rows. If not for the spaciousness and brightness, Zhao Xu might have thought himself in a luxury cinema. The soft seats on the tiers were already occupied, the front half completely full.

“Teacher, what is this?” Zhao Xu asked.

“The wizard awakening ceremony,” Antinoia explained. “All of Mystra and its floating cities are protected by legendary magic, which limits spellcasting by outsiders. If your identity isn’t infused into this legendary magic, you new wizards can’t cast spells here.”

“So in other towns, the awakening ceremony is simple—one new wizard, one awakening. But in Mystra, to alter the spell lock, we have to hold a regular ‘wizard awakening ceremony’ every month.”

Zhao Xu then realized that those present represented Mystra’s monthly wizard output. He counted at least hundreds—far too many for just a month.

“Teacher, your floating city is certainly prolific,” Zhao Xu praised.

“Not yours, ours,” Antinoia corrected. “Actually, there aren’t usually this many. It’s only because player wizards are rushing to participate this time.”

Zhao Xu recalled that the forum had thoroughly investigated the top ten wizards, but none came from Mystra, the magic holy city. One would expect the most talented magic players to be assigned here, aside from him, who took a special route.

Now he understood: Mystra’s players had to wait for the monthly spell lock modification to participate in the ceremony, so their advantage was wasted.

Zhao Xu also noticed that many novice wizards waiting their turn were quietly discussing the two of them, unexpected guests who had arrived by teleportation, flaunting their privilege.

Zhao Xu managed to recognize the players by their attire, identifying the group on the left side.

Suddenly, his pupils widened. He spotted a calm, beautiful young woman sitting in the front row.

Wang Ningwei!

At the time of Arthur’s crossing, she was the player with the highest wizard level, later becoming a top leader of Earth’s forces. It turned out her wizard training site was Mystra—here at the Arcane Gate, in the floating city.

Several years after the crossing, Arthur faced invasion by the Abyss and Hell, and Earth sent a delegation to the Northern Alliance, seeking their protection for Earth’s civilians. Zhao Xu was then a guard for the Northern Alliance, his family already sheltered thanks to him, settled in a town deep in the rear. He never expected a black dragon would attack while he was away.

It was during that mission that Zhao Xu first saw this favored daughter of heaven. At that time, he was merely a guard at the headquarters, no longer a common soldier but a slightly higher-ranking guard. She, bearing the aura of leadership and her advanced wizard status, was already an honored guest among the lords of the northern cities.

Now, Wang Ningwei lacked the extraordinary aura she would later develop, merely an ordinary player waiting to ascend as a wizard. Zhao Xu suddenly remembered a legend from his previous life: Wang Ningwei awakened as a first-level wizard on the twentieth day, becoming an example for new wizards seeking comfort. The reason for the delay was now clear to him. But today marked only the fifteenth day since launch—where were the missing five days? Was the legend exaggerated to highlight her late-blooming greatness? After all, fifteen days could still place her among the top hundred.

“Teacher, how many days since the last ceremony?” Zhao Xu whispered.

“Twenty-five days,” Antinoia replied.

“I thought it was monthly?”

“I eat three meals a day; is it so wrong to eat only two?” Hearing Antinoia’s nonsense, Zhao Xu replied irritably, “Teacher, even an outsider like me knows you can’t casually alter legendary magic.”

Rules are rules because they are hard to change.

“Oh, you want to know why?” Antinoia seemed to finally grasp Zhao Xu’s point, though he suspected she was being deliberately obtuse.

“It’s simple. Since you finished learning six first-level spells today, we just arranged for everyone to awaken early.”