Tylanthyr's Conditions

Tylanthyr's speculation was not without merit. At its core, the school of conjuration used in summoning was about wielding the power of spells to launch magical probes and beacons beyond the Prime Material Plane, usually into places like the Outer Planes—for example, the Beastlands, Mount Celestia, or the Abyss.

After finding a suitable summoning target, mages would either threaten the other party (if they were weak) or tempt them (if they were strong) into signing a pact, thereby summoning their projection to the Prime Material Plane.

As for low-level summoning spells, they usually pointed toward the Beastlands, where beasts gathered—in other words, the Beastlands, the Gray Waste, and the Great Beyond. This was probably because beasts had lower intelligence, making them easier to deceive and restrain.

But how could a first-level spell communicate with Mechanus, a plane of absolute law? Those fellows, whose minds were made of gears and springs, had little interest in meddling with anything outside themselves.

So who had tampered with it? Old Banterley? He probably lacked the qualifications before becoming an Archmage, Tylanthyr thought. Or had the spell mutated because of innate awakening? But the boy was a mage, not a Psion.

Interestingly, from a transmigrator's perspective, mages—who seemed extremely idealistic—were rigorous materialists in this world. The truly idealistic ones, aside from the beings of the Outer Planes, were the Psions.

In the end, Tylanthyr abandoned his useless speculation. There was simply too little information at present, and he could not guess anything meaningful.

The Archmage did not beat around the bush. He said bluntly, "I'm indeed very interested in your summoned creature, and I'd also like to understand your inexplicable connection with Mechanus. But that isn't enough reason for me to take you as my apprentice."

He made a suggestion. "I can offer you satisfactory compensation. Money, magic items, scrolls, books—you may choose whatever you like. But you'll have to stay here for a while and let me study that stone construct of yours."

Zhang Yuan was caught between a rock and a hard place. Tylanthyr was completely unmoved, yet he did not dare refuse the terms being offered.

Indeed, he had asked around town about Tylanthyr's reputation. The Archmage was merely strange and reclusive; there were no frightening rumors of evil surrounding him. That was no small thing for a mage who was often misunderstood and feared.

Besides, with an Archmage's power, why would he need to offer any damn terms? If he lost his temper and imprisoned them, capturing them would be no harder than catching chickens.

But the disparity in strength was simply too great. Zhang Yuan really did not want to gamble on the other party's generosity and character.

Seeing the restraint on Zhang Yuan's face—the expression of someone who wanted to speak but did not dare—Tylanthyr spoke first.

"What do you take me for? A bandit? A spell-crazed lunatic? A tyrant who kills his targets if he can't obtain them?"

"How could that be? If you wanted to deal with us, you would have done it already, wouldn't you, Master?" someone hurriedly said with an ingratiating smile.

"Hmph~" Tylanthyr neither confirmed nor denied it. "Boy, I spent more than twenty years pursuing and gaining power. But after I obtained that power, I spent even longer restraining my urge to misuse it."

"Whether it is magic or power, it is merely a tool for you to use, not some ultimate goal you must pursue at the cost of abandoning everything you are."

"But I've heard that some mages are willing to give up everything in pursuit of truth," Zhang Yuan muttered.

"What is truth? Who gets to define it? When a person can see and care about nothing except magic, they have already gone mad. What truth can a lunatic without a shred of reason speak of? Isn't that a joke?" Tylanthyr was clearly disapproving of the actions of certain mages.

After putting his mind at ease, Zhang Yuan began seriously considering his options, trying to find a better solution.

"I'd be deeply honored to have the qualifications to participate in your research."

"You don't have the qualifications. You're the one being studied." Tylanthyr showed no mercy.

Choked into silence, Zhang Yuan gasped for quite some time before recovering. "Ahem. In any case, Master, I can fully accept your terms. But I'm sorry, as a Flaming Fist soldier, I currently have a mission and can't join your experiment right away. Besides, I don't need any other items."

"I only hope that while I'm here cooperating with your experiment, I might have the honor of becoming your assistant and be permitted to consult some basic spell tomes." After saying this, Zhang Yuan carefully watched for any change in the other man's expression.

Tylanthyr's thin lips, which gave his face a faintly sardonic air, pressed together slightly. A knot formed between his brows, but then it finally loosened.

"That will do. Since you refuse to give up, I might as well avoid wasting my resources. Come back after you finish your Flaming Fist mission. There's no need to rush."

Without another word, he saw them out, sending the three of them packing.

After leaving the wizard's tower, the three felt as if they had passed through another lifetime, as though everything they had seen and heard inside the tower had happened in another world.

"We finally made it out. Luckily, that wizard didn't do anything to us." Dwarf Bard wore an expression of relief, while Minsc nodded vigorously beside him.

Zhang Yuan merely smiled, but his resolve had grown firmer. Regardless of how powerful Tylanthyr was, the self-restraint he had displayed—especially his restraint in the presence of those weaker than him—was already extraordinarily precious.

There was something he had not told his companions. A flesh golem was indeed a type of construct, but unlike other golems, necromantic magic was indispensable in the process of creating one.

And considering his act of resurrecting Melykan in the game, Kagan had actually guessed one thing correctly: Tylanthyr really was a master of necromancy. The abnormally large number of skeletal undead around High Hedge Castle was an influence he had caused.

But perhaps it was precisely because of this that the Archmage had deliberately isolated himself from society and built his wizard's tower in such a remote location.

The group left the wizard's tower around afternoon. The daylight of the Month of Decay had already begun to grow shorter, and the early-winter sunlight had taken on a feeble quality, carrying the feeling of the sun sinking toward the western hills.

"We need to hurry back to Beregost. If we're any slower, we'll have to travel at night. I don't want to stumble through this blasted place in the dark." Kagan urged everyone onward.

Unfortunately, the three who ended up holding them back were Kagan, Bard, and Xiaoxiao. Stacked on top of one another, the three shorties might not even have reached a single story. Their little legs could not make up the distance no matter how quickly they moved, and their armor was not exactly light, either.

Sure enough, they had only made it halfway when the sky began to darken. The forest at nightfall became indistinct and hazy. During the day, the trees—which were not particularly dense but twisted enough—had seemed unremarkable. Now they resembled evil sprites, turning their warped shadows into wraiths that coiled around passing travelers.

Fortunately, everyone had seen enough of the world not to be frightened by such things. They merely advanced with slightly greater caution.

That caution was quickly rewarded.

Just as the party passed along a path between two large trees, a black shadow flashed from behind one of them. The wary group had only just begun trying to make out its features when a piercing white light slashed downward toward a certain mage.

The incident came without warning, but Zhang Yuan's training and accumulated combat experience were not for show. He avoided the deadly ambush with a sideways roll, rose, and drew his sword. Only then did he get a clear look at the attacker.

A gnoll. But Minsc and Bard had already reacted and turned it into a corpse without lower legs. Had it come to take revenge? Zhang Yuan wondered uneasily.

There was no time to think. One after another, a group of roughly twenty gnoll soldiers emerged from the surrounding woods, surrounding the party and trapping them in the forest.

The four members of the party, along with Xiaoxiao, stood back to back in a circular formation to avoid being ambushed from behind and ending up surrounded on all sides. But the current situation was hardly any better.

That certain mage had only one sleep spell left, but there was nowhere to cast it now. The gnolls were not stupid enough to let a mage stand around and chant a spell in plain sight.

Xiaoxiao's throwing attacks had limited damage and control duration. Against so many opponents, they were unlikely to turn the tide in one decisive blow.

As the gnolls grew restless and prepared to charge recklessly, Zhang Yuan could not find a way to break the deadlock.