Chapter 110: The Third Method (Part One)

Floating City, Obelisk Tower, a little over a week ago.

“All right, that covers the key points of your journey.” After finishing her explanation, Antinoya handed Zhao Xu a mithril chip, instructing him to attach it to his mage badge.

Zhao Xu took the chip and examined the intricate patterns etched upon it. His eyes widened as he noticed the inscription of a message from Os, the chairman of the Association headquarters, on the back. He hadn’t expected it to carry such weight.

“Master, with this badge, does that mean I’m treated like a second-generation mage?” Zhao Xu joked.

“You can give it a try,” Antinoya replied simply.

She bit her lower lip slightly, gazing at the badge without revealing the true significance behind the mithril chip.

“So, Master, that’s it?” Zhao Xu asked.

He glanced again at the two items Antinoya had given him—the Prayer Candle and the Protective Staff—and prepared to store them in his backpack.

Thanks to Antinoya’s explanation, Zhao Xu now understood their specific uses.

The Protective Staff was meant to be activated defensively at the first sign of danger, while the Prayer Candle was a trump card, capable of turning the tide decisively.

Watching Zhao Xu pack up, Antinoya felt a flicker of melancholy; she thought it best to be a bit more cautious.

“Stand still for a moment,” she said.

Just as Zhao Xu slipped the staff into the subspace compartment of his backpack, he looked up at Antinoya with curiosity.

“I’m going to cast a legendary spell on you,” she announced.

Hearing this, Zhao Xu’s heartbeat quickened.

The legendary spell that protected the Floating City’s labyrinth was the only one of its kind he had encountered before.

Legendary spells, ranked above ninth-level spells, were developed independently by legendary mages.

Before the Cataclysm Era, legendary spells had once spread uncontrollably, nearly throwing the entire world into chaos.

It wasn’t until after the Cataclysm Era that the third-generation Goddess of Magic restructured their framework.

Now, the legendary spells that remain or can be developed no longer possess infinite power or even sufficient finite strength.

Yet, at the same time, legendary spells have become more practical, shedding their former reputation as mere conceptual threats—much like ninth-level spells.

“Legendary spell?” Zhao Xu repeated the term.

A ninth-level Wish spell had already increased his intelligence by one point and even granted him a chance at immortality.

He dared not imagine just how powerful Antinoya’s legendary spell might be.

“Close your eyes. Don’t overthink it,” Antinoya said, maintaining a serene expression, as if she were merely enjoying afternoon tea.

Zhao Xu closed his eyes. For the first time, he heard her chant the incantation—a light, melodious sound like a choir.

The last time she cast a spell was with “Mirage Star Tower,” which had taken some time but skipped ritualistic elements like poses and spoken words to save effort.

Suddenly, a warm light enveloped Zhao Xu’s entire body.

Countless fleeting images flashed through his mind, though he couldn’t grasp any of them.

“Done,” Antinoya’s voice came to his ears again.

Zhao Xu blinked open his eyes, still puzzled.

That was it?

Every ninth-level spell he knew was earth-shattering, sweeping away all opposition.

How was it that this legendary spell felt so unimpressive—its warmth less intense than a heater?

Yet seeing Antinoya fall into thoughtful silence, he understood the spell must have been completed.

After about fifteen minutes, Zhao Xu noticed Antinoya’s previously restless aura begin to steady.

She finally spoke: “I just cast a prophetic legendary spell on you. It allows me to glimpse some threads of your near future.”

“Don’t read too much into it. This is a rather limited spell—it requires many precise prerequisites, and both of us must be involved. Only then can it barely reveal some faint traces. Even so, my intellect couldn’t decipher much.”

Hearing this, Zhao Xu nodded, accustomed to a mage’s mindset. Having read several tomes on prophecy magic, he began to understand Antinoya’s meaning.

After she designated his teleportation to Hurricane City, Zhao Xu was to rely on his own strength to return.

That was a clear mission line, and only under this premise could the spell perceive his future trajectory—or rather, calculate his most probable outcome.

For example, if Antinoya instructed Zhao Xu to walk from one corner of the room to the door and remain still, she could, by casting the spell, see an image of him standing at the door half an hour later.

But as the prophetic window extends, the number of variables skyrockets, leaving only broad possible outcomes visible.

“Master, what did the prophecy reveal?” Zhao Xu raised his voice slightly.

“Hmm. Here, take a look at some of my treasures. Pick one to carry with you on the journey. But these items are very important. Even if you don’t use them, they must be returned to me afterward,” Antinoya said tactfully.

Hearing this, Zhao Xu fell silent, somewhat speechless. Wasn’t she basically saying he was likely to die along the way? Otherwise, why would she be giving him extra support?

He wasn’t afraid of dying and returning to Mystra.

But if even a ninth-level spell like “Gate to the Otherworld” couldn’t save him, then surely legendary artifacts or even demi-god relics should be bestowed to steady his nerves.

Sensing Zhao Xu’s unease, Antinoya understood his misunderstanding and explained, “No, actually, I saw the scene of you returning safely.”

“But don’t be complacent. It’s only natural to see that outcome. The spell reveals your most probable result, but that doesn’t mean other possibilities won’t occur. If prophecy showed you wouldn’t come back, I would have advised you to abandon this trial.”

Upon hearing this, Zhao Xu felt somewhat reassured. At least this meant the upcoming trial was not a guaranteed death sentence.

Now, it was up to each of them to play their part.

Antinoya then poured several items from her dimensional pouch onto the table in front of the plush sofa.

Though Zhao Xu knew he only had usage rights to these artifacts, he still examined these curiosities with interest.

“What’s this?” he asked, picking up a rather large orb. Inside the seemingly transparent sphere, a dragon’s shadow flickered intermittently, arousing his curiosity.

Antinoya shook her head. “That’s a Dragon Orb.”

“A Dragon Orb?” Zhao Xu admitted he had never heard of it.

“A high-grade artifact. Its bearer gains a dragon’s defense and immunity, can unleash three dragon breaths daily, and wields certain spell-like abilities.”

She stepped forward, gently took the Dragon Orb from Zhao Xu’s hand, and said calmly, “More importantly, it grants control over dragons.”

“This one I accidentally pulled out extra; I can’t give it to you.”

“...”