Chapter 118: Physical Transformation (A Desperate Plea)

The mages surrounding Tuck had initially been indifferent, believing that Tuck’s recruitment of them was a classic case of using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

However, upon seeing Zhao Xu begin to erupt with formidable magical energy, the fifth-level mage leading the group found his jaw frozen in a state of utter shock.

"My spellcraft check failed. What is this?" the fourth-level mage behind him whispered.

"Shut up. We're finished," the fifth-level mage gritted his teeth, paralyzed by indecision. Even offending the president of the Northcar City Mage Association would not have caused him such terror. This was a ninth-level spell. He had never in his life witnessed someone cast such a spell without the aid of a scroll or the "Use Magic Device" skill. No matter how he questioned why the Goddess of Magic would show such favor to the man before him, he could not mask the fear in his heart.

He glanced at Tuck, who was still standing tall despite his own trembling. Tuck’s face had turned pale, as if he had finally grasped the gravity of the situation. For millennia, the first rule for any great family to flourish and propagate was to remember never to provoke those who could not be provoked.

At the center of the storm, the rain poured down upon Zhao Xu, yet it could not cool his burning intensity. It was a ninth-level arcane spell: *Shapechange*—the ultimate transmutation art, second only to the powers of the divine. This spell allowed him to transform into any non-unique creature with no more than 25 Hit Dice, granting him all of that creature’s extraordinary and supernatural abilities.

Zhao Xu’s body had grown massive, nearly three meters tall, and his weight had increased to half a ton. The enormous, snow-white angel wings on his back possessed infinite power; with just a few beats, they lifted him into the air. A giant sword appeared, floating beside him, and a composite longbow manifested in his hands. Zhao Xu was now suffused with a sacred aura, surrounded by rings of mysterious, potent energy.

Seeing this, several pious heavy cavalrymen knelt before him, as if he were the literal manifestation of a divine messenger.

"It’s a Solar!" the fifth-level mage muttered to himself. A Solar—the most powerful of the angels.

Antinoya’s decision to grant Zhao Xu the ninth-level *Shapechange* spell had been calculated. The book she had given him was meant to help him understand the traits of the creature he would become. While *Shapechange* could not grant the spellcasting abilities of the target creature—a drawback many mages considered a dealbreaker—it granted all of the creature’s static stats. This was perfect for Zhao Xu; even without using special abilities, he was now stronger than any twentieth-level fighter.

Transformed into a Solar, Zhao Xu locked his gaze onto Tuck and surged forward in flight. It was the first time he had experienced the sheer exhilaration of flight; in his past life, he could only watch fifth-level mages take to the skies. Although his maneuverability was not yet perfect, his sprint speed—five times faster than an ordinary man’s—allowed him to reach Tuck in an instant.

"Shoot him! Kill him!" Tuck shrieked.

The mages who had been surrounding him, led by the fifth-level mage, had already fled the moment Zhao Xu charged. They were so terrified of drawing his attention that they didn’t even dare to cast basic defensive spells. But to Zhao Xu, it didn’t matter. The formidable base stats of a Solar meant that even without divine spells, he could crush everyone present. A Solar’s spell resistance was so high that no one below the second caster level could affect him. But he didn’t even need spell resistance; the moment he transformed into an angel, a protective aura had coalesced around him.

This aura manifested as a *Magic Circle against Evil* and a *Minor Globe of Invulnerability*, both of which moved with him. Any mage below seventh level was merely fodder.

*Thwack.* A crossbow bolt struck Zhao Xu but was blocked by his skin, leaving not even a scratch. His flesh was natural armor, much like dragon scales on a dragon. Zhao Xu glanced back, and the archer who had fired at him had already scrambled to hide in the crowd. Previously, Zhao Xu had spent two first-level spells to raise his armor class by a mere fraction, but now, as a Solar, no common man with a blade could pierce his hide. His natural armor class was high enough to look down upon the masses; unless several high-level warriors with magical weapons appeared, no one could break his defense.

Zhao Xu’s eyes locked onto the archer who had tried to attack him. He raised his composite longbow and fired a single shot. The thunderous sound of the arrow breaking the sound barrier echoed across the land, carving a vacuum through the sheets of rain. Zhao Xu didn’t even bother to look again; against his attack bonus of twenty-odd levels, this group of heavy cavalry was no different from paper. Even if they could survive the damage of the arrow, they could not withstand the *Slay Living* effect imbued within it. For these low-level cavalrymen, it was a death sentence. With every draw of his bow, Zhao Xu tolled the funeral bell for another soldier.

Seeing the arrows pierce through armor and hearts alike, and cowed by his divine, angelic status, the remaining cavalrymen abandoned the fight and scattered in all directions. In this world, ultimately, it was a world of faith.

The young man in the fine robes, Tuck, finally realized his predicament and began to run in a blind panic. Yet, without magic, even on horseback, he could not outpace Zhao Xu. With a single leap, Zhao Xu closed the distance. Tuck’s personal bodyguard, trained from childhood, summoned his courage and stepped out, raising his shield in an attempt to block Zhao Xu’s assault.

Zhao Xu, his heart governed by a cold, detached indifference, commanded his floating greatsword to fly toward the bodyguard. This +5 dancing greatsword, a top-tier weapon for anyone below legendary status, gained the ability to attack on its own once activated by Zhao Xu. For at least four rounds, it would fight as if Zhao Xu himself were wielding it.

Zhao Xu liberated his hands, clutching his +2 composite longbow. He began to harvest the lives of the executioners who had guarded the caravan, one arrow at a time, relying on the death effect to fell them just as they had pierced the hearts of the caravan guards.

The dancing greatsword struck, piercing the bodyguard’s shield and his heart, killing him instantly. Zhao Xu then triggered the Solar’s feat—a feat he hadn’t been able to master in his previous life—"Great Cleave." The sword, imbued with a fierce intelligence, swung with massive momentum toward another approaching heavy cavalryman. The man’s full plate armor offered no resistance against Zhao Xu’s near-thirty-five-level melee attack, and he was cut down instantly. With each successive kill, the "Great Cleave" feat reactivated. In a matter of seconds, while an ordinary warrior could barely land one strike, the dancing sword had slaughtered all ten surrounding riders.

Zhao Xu fired a *Slay Living* arrow at the horse beneath Tuck. The beast collapsed instantly, sending Tuck crashing to the ground. Tuck, who had spent half the day meticulously grooming his appearance, was now disheveled. He looked at Zhao Xu in despair and pleaded, "Spare me! I didn't know who you were. I was wrong."

Having seen countless people beg for mercy and having watched as many grovel in the dirt, Tuck knew the drill. He was shrewd enough to realize that Zhao Xu wasn't just "possessed by an angel" as the fleeing cavalry had claimed; he had actually cast the ninth-level spell *Shapechange*. No one knew why a common low-level mage could cast such a spell. No one knew that imbuing this spell into a commoner required twenty-three days of preparation.

Looking down at the kneeling Tuck, Zhao Xu said coldly, "If I don't kill you, my mind will never be at peace."

"So, I must ask you to die."

Zhao Xu raised his composite longbow, drew it to its limit, and loosed the arrow. He knew that for those slain by a death effect, the fifth-level divine spell *Raise Dead* would be useless. No matter how Tuck scrambled or what magical items his family elders had bestowed upon him, it was in vain. The death effect was fair to everyone—pass the save and live, fail and die.

As he watched Tuck collapse into his final, crawling position, the pent-up frustration in Zhao Xu’s chest finally dissipated. The heavy cavalry who had participated in the slaughter were, for the most part, wiped out by his archery and his dancing sword. He had taken his revenge, and he had done it with his own hands.

Zhao Xu looked up, his eyes fixed on the empty sky where the torrential rain continued to fall.

Killing, he realized, was truly a dull affair.

***

The Arcane Gate.

Twenty days after the game’s launch, as the first batch of player mages graduated from the floating cities, the player mage community finally gained the authority to leave the floating cities. The Arcane Gate, located at the headquarters of the Mage Association in Mistra, saw an increasing number of players among the usual flow of travelers.

Without the ability to cast teleportation spells, or until they earned the qualifications to teleport from a floating city, everyone had to pass through the gates—descending from the floating city to the Arcane Gate, and then departing from there. Consequently, even many mages who possessed teleportation could only warp to the entrance of the Arcane Gate, where they had to walk in on foot to register and regain their eligibility to enter the floating city.

"Huh? Why is that guy soaking wet? Haven't they controlled the weather around Mistra? There shouldn't be any heavy rain," a novice mage remarked in surprise.

His companion looked up and saw the man the novice was referring to walking toward the front desk.

"He's so disheveled. Will they kick him out?"

"I doubt it. Look at the mage badge on his chest."

"Ugh, how sloppy. Can't he just use a *Prestidigitation* to dry off?"

"Heh, maybe he hasn't learned it yet."

Several mages standing in the corners whispered among themselves. The soaked man had drawn the attention of many. A few female mages with a penchant for tidiness frowned as they watched the water trailing from his robes onto the floor.

But the man ignored their whispers. His expression was cold, rainwater streaming from his hair down his cheeks and dripping onto his robes. His footsteps were heavy, each one echoing throughout the hall. Slowly, more and more eyes fell upon him, as if he were someone who was destined to be the center of attention.

A clerk, feeling someone approach, didn't look up and simply asked in a low voice, "Name?"

"Midsummer."

The man’s voice resonated in the hearts of everyone present.