Chapter Twenty-Three: The Awakening Ceremony

Less than ten minutes had passed when a maid arrived to knock at the door. Yet before Zhao Xu could rise to his feet, Antinoya had already opened it. The maid, without much ado, bowed respectfully, set down a box, and departed in haste.

It was only then that Zhao Xu realized the awakening method Antinoya had mentioned was not simply reading a book or the like; it actually required special materials.

“Awakening to the ‘Sage Spellcaster’ is quite simple. Once I’ve prepared the ritual, you need only sit in the center for a while,” Antinoya said as she opened the box.

Zhao Xu was somewhat stunned. “It’s really that easy?”

He’d spent ages just trying to recite a single spell as a mage; some players had already mastered basic tricks, yet still remained stuck on learning “Transcribe Scroll” and “Summon Familiar.” By comparison, he seemed to have bypassed two hurdles. According to Antinoya, all he had to do was sit for a while.

He had assumed he would need to master those two abilities and then abandon them to exchange for “Sage Spellcaster.” But now, it seemed that was not the case.

“Mentor, if I awaken the ‘Sage Spellcaster’ ability, but later choose to pursue a different basic class instead of mage, wouldn’t I be gaining an extra ability for nothing?”

Antinoya turned her cloak slightly, clearly glancing at him. “What are you imagining? Unless you advance to Level 1 Mage within a set time, any extra abilities you’ve gained will be lost—except for your Draconic, which is tied to intelligence. Only upon achieving Level 1 in a class does it anchor your abilities, solidifying them. And let me advise you, don’t entertain any crude loopholes. In Arthur, every trick you could think of, or not think of, has already been tried countless times over the centuries.”

“That includes many novice mages who like to dream of making money by lending their spellbooks for others to copy.”

Before learning of the Sage Spellcaster, Zhao Xu had indeed planned the same—after all, if copying spells could earn money, who wouldn’t do it? It’s not as if these spells were unique to him.

“But think about it—why not simply use magic to duplicate spellbooks? Or find someone with an extraordinary memory to memorize them all at once? Why must one spend a day in study, and why can’t you just copy them straight off?”

“When transcribing, you must fully comprehend the entire model’s operation; every stroke is a reflection of your own understanding. Yet this understanding is fleeting. Only by embodying the insights within the spellbook can you prepare the spell anew. That is the essence of how mages cast spells.”

“A mage usually realizes this during the process of transcribing their first spell.”

“What they don’t realize is that when someone else copies from their spellbook, the original owner is treading the same path when preparing spells, so there’s no issue. But an outsider’s insights can disrupt the model’s flow; thus, each transcription carries the risk of the spell in the original book dissipating.”

Hearing this, Zhao Xu felt a chill run through him. So lending out an original for someone to copy could actually damage the original itself. In that case, even if the other person finished, he’d have to spend another 50 gold—or 12.5 per page—just to copy it back from them. This was highly inconvenient. Unless the borrower was a close friend, no one would easily lend out their spellbooks; who could know to what extent the models would be depleted?

As Zhao Xu pondered this, Antinoya had already begun drawing on the floor at the front of his dormitory, using the materials brought by the maid.

In Arthur, mages cast spells with gestures and incantations, sometimes with added materials—but rarely did they make such elaborate drawings on the ground. This, he surmised, was not spellcasting.

“A ritual,” Antinoya explained, finishing the outline of a hexagram and continuing to trace strange runes with a special piece of chalk. “A ritual is a system independent of spells. While there is overlap—some rituals can, over time, achieve effects similar to spells—they’re too time-consuming for combat. Still, this is one way ordinary people, without scrolls, can wield mysterious powers.”

“And some rituals, like this one, are used to awaken class abilities—commonly seen in the awakening of such powers.”

“With this ritual, your future abilities ‘Transcribe Scroll’ and ‘Summon Familiar’ will be expended in advance; you won’t be able to acquire them. Are you sure you’re ready?”

Zhao Xu nodded resolutely.

Once he made a decision, he never looked back. More importantly, Antinoya herself had chosen this path—surely he couldn’t go wrong.

“Then step into the center of the ritual and sit down.”

At her instruction, Zhao Xu rose and entered the array, sitting at its heart. He noticed a white candle burning at each point of the hexagram, the mysterious powders Antinoya had scattered, and his own shadow, flickering between substance and illusion.

A shiver ran through him. Wasn’t this just like those Western horror films, where a group gets themselves killed trying to summon spirits?

“Even if a demon lord appeared, I could send it back where it came from. What are you worried about?” Antinoya remarked.

Zhao Xu could only comfort himself.

Indeed, with Antinoya’s legendary power, if she truly encountered the avatar of some archdevil, her boast of slaying it might not be empty.

“Take this paper, recite the incantation written upon it, and begin to meditate—imagine your mind as an endless, unfathomable road,” Antinoya instructed. A sheet of paper floated before Zhao Xu’s eyes, making him wonder just how many zero-level Mage Hand spells his mentor had prepared.

But seeing the densely written incantation, Zhao Xu couldn’t help but suspect—did his genius-level mentor, with an intelligence of fifty, also pick some flaw like forgetfulness, since she only handed this to him at the last moment?

Fortunately, the incantation was not convoluted. Pressured by the ritual, Zhao Xu quickly committed it to memory.

He closed his eyes, picturing himself walking along a deep, endless path.

Unseen by Zhao Xu, Antinoya withdrew a holy symbol of the Goddess of Magic and placed it at a rune’s nexus on the array. She then poured holy water over it, chanting in an unknown tongue.

Instantly, the ornate array she had drawn came alive, glowing red as if set ablaze, and began to shimmer with ethereal light.

With a thunderous crash, Zhao Xu felt as if a mighty hammer struck his heart, shattering open the depths of his soul.

He opened his eyes sharply and looked ahead.

The array’s glow vanished the moment his eyes opened. Each line faded as though being wiped away, finally converging upon the holy symbol.

Just as Zhao Xu was about to ask Antinoya if he had succeeded, he noticed a change on his character sheet.

In the abilities section, the words “Sage Spellcaster” now sat there, calm and certain.