Chapter Sixteen: Why Me?

Zhao Xu’s expression remained as calm as ever, as if none of this had exceeded his expectations. Yet inside, waves of thought surged restlessly. Potential points? This seemingly incidental perk bundled with the account was, in truth, what the person before him valued most?

“Could you explain a bit?” Zhao Xu asked. In his previous life, the forums had discussed nearly everything, but never had he seen any mention of potential points. Even after crossing over, he hadn’t heard anyone utter the term. Otherwise, as a level-five warrior, he wouldn’t have been exposed to the names of myriad ninth-level spells—was it not simply because people from Earth, with nothing better to do, would idly chat and brag about their experiences?

“It’s actually a special kind of talent. Those who possess it gain potential points each time they level up. By expending these points, they can restore spell slots and certain uses of class abilities.”

Zhao Xu listened, yet he was puzzled. Restoring spell slots was indeed extraordinary, and increasing the number of uses for class abilities was even more so. At the very least, he knew of no other way to achieve such things. But regardless of how earth-shattering it sounded, the reality of only several points per level was hard to overlook. Before reaching legendary status—a maximum of level twenty—even if one gained five points per level, that would be a mere hundred potential points in total. How could anyone afford to use them recklessly?

“I’ve noticed you seem almost like a native of our world, so sensitive to the meaning of these numbers,” Antinoia suddenly remarked. “If it’s only a few points per level, then you’re right. That’s why, in the past, those with potential points lived in obscurity. At best, they had a few more tricks up their sleeves than other adventurers.”

“Until a certain legendary wizard devised a spell to gain additional potential points—and it was only a fifth-level spell at that. Then everything changed.”

Zhao Xu immediately caught on. Gaining extra potential points? Wouldn’t that make spell slots effectively unlimited? Wouldn’t it mean unlimited uses of class abilities? He could scarcely imagine how terrifying a wizard could become if, able to fight or flee, to adapt to any situation, and equipped with countless triggered abilities, they were capable of sustaining themselves indefinitely.

Even the simplest tactic—teleport in, strike, and, once spent, teleport away—could wear down most opponents. In Arthur, hit points did not regenerate automatically but only through lengthy rest, magical healing, or special rapid-healing abilities—even for monsters. Everyone played by the same rules.

Suddenly, Zhao Xu understood.

The organization known as Final Scroll needed people like him—those with potential points—to become an infinitely mobile blade.

“It’s just that I’m far too low level right now,” Zhao Xu said, rubbing his head, though inwardly he was filled with anticipation. Those legendary items said to grant instant level-ups simply by reading—while rare elsewhere, an organization like Final Scroll surely had them in abundance. Ideally, he would read eight tomes in a row and leap straight to level nine, able to cast fifth-level spells.

“That’s not a problem. As long as you join us, we’ll naturally provide you with the necessary means to ensure you reach legendary wizard status,” Antinoia replied.

Though Zhao Xu had resolved to remain calm, he could not stop his heart from pounding faster in excitement.

“As for the other requirements of the organization, they’re still rather distant for you. Rights and duties go hand in hand, so I’ll explain further when your level is higher,” Antinoia continued, entirely unconcerned that she resembled a recruiter for some clandestine society.

“Did you decide to accept me before I stepped into the teleportation portal?” Zhao Xu asked.

“Strictly speaking, it was the moment you stepped out of the portal.”

Zhao Xu’s pupils widened slightly. The instant he stepped out of the portal was also when he had changed his faith to the Goddess of Magic. Previously, he had thought his possession of potential points had already been discovered and that the robed wizard was his guide. It seemed he had misunderstood.

Before his faith was made clear, how could they have allowed him into an organization like Final Scroll? Even so, Zhao Xu marveled at the speed of Final Scroll’s response. From the moment they led him out of the portal to his arrival at the dormitory, less than fifteen minutes had passed. In that time, all the necessary arrangements had been completed. The organization had even intervened directly in the Mage Association’s basic administration, assigning Antinoia, a member of Final Scroll, as his mentor.

He had no doubt that such a mysterious organization was capable of this. But to accomplish everything in just twenty minutes was almost beyond belief. Even on Earth, in the age of instant information, it was rare to complete a job interview in such a short time.

No—that wasn’t it.

Suddenly, Zhao Xu understood. It was not that the organization was too efficient; rather—

The Goddess had been watching him all along. Or rather, the moment he changed his faith to her, her gaze had once again settled upon him. This piece, which would otherwise have required continued observation, was immediately picked up and placed on the board. Only the Goddess’s will could see him chosen without any further discussion.

Risk and opportunity—this was Zhao Xu’s present reality. Joining the organization would inevitably entangle him in countless schemes and plots, which conflicted with his intent to protect himself. Yet only under the aegis of such a powerful group could he hope to gain access to the most formidable resources.

Zhao Xu knew all too well how difficult it had been, as a warrior, to learn even a moderately powerful feat. Hoarding knowledge was hardly unique to Earth. For wizards, this was even more pronounced—one had to be part of an organization even to have the chance to learn. Otherwise, why would so many wizards bother to join? Yet if you failed to learn a feat in time, the opportunity was lost forever.

“Mentor, is there anything you need me to do next?”

Having made up his mind, Zhao Xu was ready to follow orders faithfully.

“There’s nothing you need to do for now. Until you reach level nine, we won’t need you at all. However, your class progression and every feat you learn must be planned by us,” Antinoia said.

“No problem. But could you tell me a bit about the plan?” Zhao Xu smiled, showing his teeth.

Players might complain that NPCs were infringing on their right to choose, but someone like Zhao Xu, who knew the truth, wished his benefactor would arrange the entire set of equipment for him.

“Excellent. Once you finish your training here and become a first-level wizard, go downstairs and complete the cleric training as well. When you’re ready to level up, come back to me. I’ll tell you how to become a Scroll Scholar at level two, and from then on, all your divine spellcaster classes will advance along the Scroll Scholar path. As for your further progression, we’ll discuss it when you reach level five,” Antinoia said clearly, speaking each word with deliberate care.