Chapter Eleven: The Mage's Initiation

Zhao Xu’s dormitory in the game was several times larger than the typical four-person university dormitory in real life. After the mass transmigration, the first challenge faced by humanity was housing; many never expected that after struggling so hard to own a home on Earth, they would have to start all over again in another world. Most people in the early days endured the elements, living no better than vagrants.

But Zhao Xu had already solved his accommodation issue directly.

At the center of the dormitory stood a heavy camphorwood table, its surface waist-high, holding simple alchemical tools. To the left was his bed—neatly made, with the blankets folded. On the other side, bookshelves ran along three walls, reaching up to the ceiling.

Zhao Xu glanced over the shelves: “Introduction to Simple Incantations,” “The Mage’s Path: Beginnings,” “A Study of the Origins of the Eight Spell Schools,” “Polymorph in Transmutation Spells”… All books on wizardry, and Zhao Xu knew that opening any one of them revealed thoroughly detailed content.

Many people at first marveled at the astonishing detail of the Arthurian world, but as magical texts began to circulate widely, suspicion grew—could the current AI really be so advanced as to construct such a coherent knowledge system? Though they seemed to discuss fantastical magical theory, the books possessed a remarkable internal consistency. Clearly, these weren’t just copied and pasted from medieval grimoires.

Yet even all this wasn’t enough to leave Zhao Xu utterly dumbfounded.

Directly in front of the desk stood a female mage, robed and cloaked, gazing at him as though she were looking through the ages.

Zhao Xu thought to himself: Surely Arthur’s mages aren’t so cheap that they’d offer one-on-one tutoring for novice players like him?

“Mr. Midsummer, greetings.” The woman did not lower her hood; her features remained veiled in shadow, her whole being exuding an air of mystery.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am your instructor for the mage curriculum—Antinoa. I’ll be assisting you with your training in the mage profession over the coming period.” Her voice was clear and melodious.

“Mystra’s mages are that well-off now?” Zhao Xu asked in surprise.

He knew full well that, even at the headquarters of the most powerful Mage Association in Mystra, teaching was done in small classes. Traditional one-on-one apprenticeship was reserved only for legendary mages who stood atop the world; otherwise, collective professional instruction was considered superior. Nowadays, individual mentorship was found only among wandering country mages taking apprentices.

So, when he heard of this teaching method, his first reaction was not excitement but suspicion.

If he were just playing for fun, it wouldn’t matter—but now he had to study seriously. Even if everyone else advanced to level two, he could afford to fall behind. His time at the academy was the only period in his life when he could acquire knowledge freely.

“You needn’t worry. I’m here merely to assist, to answer your initial questions. For formal instruction, refer to the lecture list on your desk and attend the sessions as you see fit.”

With that, she handed him a sheet without turning; it was as if she knew the contents of every document on the table by heart.

Zhao Xu took it and absentmindedly stowed it in his backpack, his gaze lingering on her cloak.

The cloak shimmered with light, a cascade of starlike glimmers that stirred a guess deep within him.

Antinoa noticed Zhao Xu’s interest in her cloak, more so than in herself, and said, “If you’re interested in it, you may have one just like it upon completing your training.”

“Really?” Zhao Xu couldn’t help but raise his voice. The rumor of a lavish graduation gift for outstanding students—could it really be his turn?

“It’s nothing special,” said Antinoa. “Just a decorative piece; it’s not worth much.”

Zhao Xu nearly choked at her words—he had almost let himself imagine otherwise.

The legendary Star Cloak had just flashed through his mind—a rare item said to grant immunity to non-magical weapon attacks, and even half damage from magical weapons with a successful check. Priced at 130,000 gold coins, it was always in demand but never available, even for a premium.

Of course, graduation gifts were rarely so generous; according to forum posts from his previous life, the grandest was a fifty-gold coin greatsword. Most received weapons worth less than ten gold coins.

For the next while, Zhao Xu settled in at his desk and began reading the introductory tome provided by Antinoa: “The Path of Arcana.”

Its cover depicted a strange motif—a vast, mysterious web connecting countless nodes. The material itself felt out of place for the era, imbued with a sense of history.

By the usual logic, the older and more powerful the artifact, the higher its value. If sold, it would fetch a hefty price. But the author’s name, Antinoa, ruined its worth; Zhao Xu couldn’t help but lament the lack of honesty among mages. No doubt, the spell to artificially age the book had been used for some ulterior motive.

He leafed through its pages, posing questions to Antinoa as he read.

This was what had deterred countless players from choosing the mage path in Arthur. People came to play, not to study. Before word spread of the mages’ true power, many were discouraged by the demanding training, and switched to other professions.

What’s worse, a level-one mage was weak. Their hit dice—the lowest in any class, D4—while clerics at least had D8. With limited resurrection stones, mages had a hellish time leveling alone.

So, unless someone was obsessed with occultism or suffered from delusions of grandeur, few could devote themselves to studying the game’s magical lore.

Players didn’t truly realize the might of mages until the first level-five mage appeared—then the seventh, ninth, and eleventh. Step by step, perceptions shifted, and the mage class was elevated to godhood.

Players had encountered NPC mages before, but in other games, NPCs and players didn’t share the same stats. In theory, NPC mages could destroy the world.

So, at first, meeting powerful NPC mages didn’t impress anyone.

Little did they know, these NPCs leveled up just like players—through race, class, feats, skills, spells, saves, hit points, and items, all gradually accumulated.

Zhao Xu knew this, but it didn’t make the esoteric training any less daunting.

In theory, academy instruction meant a group of players attending lectures, slowly being guided. But his opening scenario was home tutoring—remarkable in itself.

The only consolation was that “The Path of Arcana,” though incomprehensible, was well-written. The book emanated a profound sense of Arthurian history.

After a long while, Zhao Xu asked questions intermittently, and the female mage answered each in detail.

Still, the process felt awkward—a solitary road through a desert.

After flipping through numerous pages, Zhao Xu finally ventured, “Shouldn’t we start with cantrips?”

Cantrips were zero-level spells; every mage mastered all of them. Higher-level spells were learned individually.

Yet his instructor hadn’t taught him basic mage knowledge first, but instead had begun with the origin of arcana. He was already feeling conflicted.

No matter how difficult the mage curriculum, there was always a foundation—a discussion of spell models, how to prepare and cast spells. Players might get impatient, but at least the goal was clear.

Antinoa, unperturbed, replied, “There’s not much to say about preparing spells. It happens naturally.”

Zhao Xu was astonished. “How does it happen naturally?”

According to launch records, the first player to complete mage training took a full week. That was the quickest, not the average. Overall progress was sluggish; even eight months after Zhao Xu entered the game, some had yet to finish the mage tutorial.

To reach level one in any class, the player had to fully demonstrate all class abilities. For mages, this meant copying all zero-level spells and three first-level spells, successfully casting a first-level spell, learning to copy scrolls, successfully summoning a familiar, and mastering Draconic.

Now, she was telling him it was effortless?

These experts ought to show some empathy for their rookie players. Right now, they lacked the corresponding intellect to grasp these concepts quickly; only a year later, when everyone’s bodies matched their attributes, would it truly be effortless.