Chapter Thirty-Three: The True Advancement

As the president of the Mage Association, Os held secrets far beyond the knowledge of anyone present. Even Cassius, who sat quietly in the farthest corner, always appearing indifferent and said to be the oldest among the seven—rumored to have met the Goddess before she ascended—could not compare to him.

Os recalled the advice of another Exalted One. After much deliberation, he finally spoke, his words weighted with meaning.

“It isn’t he who seeks out the Goddess, but the Goddess who wishes to see him.”

The titans of the Association, having weathered countless storms, still could not help but draw a sharp breath at these words. For what Os said might well herald the coming of another great cataclysm, the opening act of a new war of the gods.

“Impossible,” Nessar declared. For nearly a century, he had devoted himself to mastering the legendary magics of fate and time. In his hollow eyes flickered the everlasting fire of his soul—Nessar was one of the last remaining great liches of Aster, and uniquely, an undead of the good alignment.

None of the assembled leaders were lacking in intellect, and with just those words, they understood all too well.

If the Goddess wished to meet someone, though the gods could not set foot in the Prime Plane of Aster, they could easily send an avatar. The saints themselves were but facets of the divine.

Just like these seven mighty figures, their true forms hidden in places of utmost secrecy—what walked the world were their summoned projections, animated by their consciousness, possessing all the power of their original selves.

A mage of the fifth rank would already have devised multiple ways of escape; for those of the legendary twenty-first rank and above, their means multiplied exponentially. Even a high mage had at least ten different ways to teleport away, let alone the Seven. Even if a projection were destroyed, or the true body hunted down, the resurrection protocols that would trigger upon death were enough for them to return again and again.

Yet the Goddess’s current approach was to seize the opportunity of Zhao Xu’s ascent to the Archmage’s Throne, summoning him into the river of history to meet her at the very moment before her own divinity began.

“The gods’ timelines are locked by their own will. No one can return to the past and destroy them while they are still fledglings.”

“The Lady of Magic, who holds a portion of the domain of fate, is the foremost expert in this regard.”

Os merely repeated these two facts—common knowledge among legendary mages. Yet the other six, with their profound knowledge and intelligence, immediately grasped his implication.

Gods of fate are not powerful against other gods; their divine power cannot affect the destinies of their peers. But over mortals, their dominion is absolute. For they can perceive any mortal who might one day threaten them, and so can intervene in the timeline to erase such threats.

The Goddess, bearing both the mighty domain of magic and a portion of the forbidden domain of time, could select from among countless worldlines the one most favorable to herself. If none fit, she could retrace the flow of time, severing and restarting the lines as she desired.

This was why, since the third Lady of Magic ascended, the fate of her predecessors—who had perished before her—did not repeat. Her existence now bordered on the undying, the indestructible.

But what crisis could be so dire as to force a god to require mortal intervention, to arrange a meeting with her own past self?

If Zhao Xu ever posed a threat to the Goddess, she would not need to wait—she could erase him now. Even if he grew into a legend, the Lady of Magic could still travel back and eliminate the weaker, younger Zhao Xu, thus preventing the rise of his future self.

If she required Zhao Xu’s power, she could simply wait and act in a future worldline. There would be no need to let him intervene in her most private timeline.

“There is only one explanation: the Earth-born adventurer, Midsummer, is the key to breaking the Goddess’s deadlock. Among all impossibilities, he is the one possibility. The Goddess needs him as an anchor to change her own destiny,” Os declared.

“This matter is to be recorded under the Association’s Ninth Tier Emergency Confidentiality and sealed immediately,” Os commanded.

“Understood. Jacques has entered the record,” replied a construct golem who had been silently standing at the door. Enhanced by the Spell of Enlightenment, it was even more intelligent than most humans.

Seeing that everyone accepted his reasoning, President Os continued, “Before we resume our interrupted agenda, I have one application to submit.”

“It concerns the advancement of the Earth-born adventurer Midsummer, once he reaches the fifth rank.”

“We previously planned to grant him the ‘Warding Spellkeeper’ path for his divine side.”

“It was originally decided that he would not advance on the arcane side, but it is now clear this is insufficient. Therefore, I propose—”

“Metamagic Spellmaster? If that happens, no one below the legendary tier will ever be able to contain him,” Stormrider interjected, raising his graying eyebrows. As a mage from the Eastern Lands, he had no innate reverence for the gods.

Thus, within the Association, he rarely saw eye to eye with Os, who represented the Faction of the Final Scroll.

“I approve of advancing him as a ‘Spellwarden’—that is within your authority. But the title of ‘Metamagic Spellmaster’ has always been reserved for mages who have made extraordinary contributions to the Association. I don’t object to awarding it to Midsummer, but at the very least, let him earn enough merit first,” Stormrider said.

A mage’s spells generally have fixed durations, from several rounds (six seconds per round), to several turns (one minute per turn), or even hours. But if a spell could last an entire day, its strategic value would be transformed.

A day happens to be the cycle for spell recovery. Such a mage would no longer need to hastily cast defensive buffs in an emergency before counterattacking. Instead, with various enhancements always active, their combat power would reach its zenith—they would become a veritable engine of war.

A fully buffed mage could rival a warrior’s physical output—a fact not to be underestimated.

The “Persistent Spell” feat was the key to twenty-four-hour magic. But the cost was immense. Yet, by stacking certain abilities, the Metamagic Spellmaster could reduce this cost to almost nothing.

Thus, the Association was extremely cautious in bestowing this advancement. Any Metamagic Spellmaster was several times more powerful than a pure mage of the same rank, nearly unstoppable.

A mage of levels eleven to twenty, with the regular path, would have only two metamagic feats. But a Metamagic Spellmaster would have four, plus six or seven other powerful abilities—a massive advantage.

“No, what I propose is a different path,” Os said, locking eyes with the others and enunciating each word clearly. “A path with even lower cost—Metamagic Shaper.”

Metamagic Shaper—the first arcane advancement!