I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

Royal Academy presents a completely different appearance late at night.

The wizard apprentices who had been wearing bright robes and talking about truth and mystery during the day had all returned to their towers or dormitories.

After the hustle and bustle subsided, the ancient complex resembled a sleeping behemoth, casting large, heavy shadows under the silvery moonlight.

As Rod stepped out of the side door of the history building, a chill unique to late autumn night swept over him, instantly dispelling the musty smell and heat he had picked up in the underground warehouse.

He tightened his thin linen robe and strode towards the blackwood path on the west side of the academy.

It was a shortcut to the faculty and staff dormitory area. Although the road was in poor condition and there were no magical streetlights, it was the best option for Rhodes, who urgently needed to go back to rest and study his new abilities.

The fallen leaves underfoot made a soft cracking sound.

As Rhode walked, he mentally reviewed the recent situation.

As a time traveler and a surgeon, he is accustomed to conducting risk assessments before a crisis erupts.

The current situation is very bad for him.

The root of the problem lies with his employer, the stubborn Professor Isaac.

Three days ago, Professor Isaac published a paper entitled "On the Miracles of Mortal Engineering in the Pre-Magical Era" in the fringe section of The Truth Weekly.

In this article, the professor put forward a bold hypothesis based on his research on several ancient sites.

Before the emergence of wizarding civilization, mortals had built a highly advanced civilization using mechanics and mathematics, and even possessed some means to fight against supernatural beings.

This paper may be academically rigorous, but it is extremely foolish politically.

The foundation of the Royal Academy, and indeed the entire Plantagenet dynasty, was the bloodline theory of wizard supremacy.

Wizards preached that mortals were lost sheep, and only those with magic powers were shepherds.

Professor Isaac's viewpoint, in the eyes of some conservative wizards, is tantamount to implying that sheep can live well without shepherds.

Although the big shots disdain to personally refute an old mortal, their vassals and henchmen are happy to share their masters' burdens.

Yesterday, a stone smashed the window of the professor's office.

Today, Steward Kane suddenly made things difficult for Rhodes and tried to drive him away.

These are all signals.

Rod touched his cuff, where a letter opener was hidden for self-defense.

Although he now possesses the genes of the Stone-skinned Groundwalker, that ability has not yet been tested in actual combat.

"I must save enough money as soon as possible to buy that meditation manual and become a true apprentice, or... demonstrate enough value to find a new protection."

Rhodes secretly made his own plans.

The Blackwood Path is lined with tall blackwood trees, whose dense canopies block out the moonlight, making the path appear exceptionally secluded.

Although this place is remote, you can always hear the chirping of insects or the rustling of stray cats moving through the bushes.

But today, it's too quiet here.

Rhodes paused abruptly.

As a doctor, he was very sensitive to the scent of death.

This silence is not a natural stillness, but rather the instinctive silencing of small animals around them after the intrusion of some predator.

There's someone here.

Rhodes' pupils contracted slightly, his heart rate increased instantly, and adrenaline began to be secreted.

He didn't turn around or make any panicked moves. Instead, he maintained his original pace and continued walking forward, though the muscles in his body had quietly tensed up.

He's gambling.

They were betting that if the other party was a wizard, they wouldn't bother to ambush in such a place.

To kill a mortal, a wizard only needs to throw a fireball from a distance or cast a curse.

Those lying in ambush here can only be mortals.

As long as you are a mortal, you have a chance.

Just as Rhodes passed by a huge black cedar tree, something strange happened.

There was no nonsense, no warning, not even a whisper.

A dark figure appeared silently in Rhodes' left blind spot, as if it had been peeled out of the shadow of the tree trunk.

It was an assassin dressed in tight-fitting night clothes.

His movements were astonishingly fast, a killing technique honed through countless trials, the pinnacle of speed achievable by a mortal body.

The dagger in the assassin's hand was no ordinary weapon; its blade had an eerie dark blue hue, clearly indicating that it was coated with a potent poison.

Even a slight cut to the skin can cause the poison, which is deadly upon contact with blood, to cause a bull's heart to stop within three seconds.

The target is the left posterior heart, the location of the heart.

A single, decisive blow.

This is the assassin's creed.

He was employed by a down-on-his-luck nobleman who wanted to curry favor with a great wizard. His task was simple: to shut up the rambling old professor.

The best way to shut someone up is to kill their assistant first and create panic.

A cruel glint flashed in the assassin's eyes.

In his eyes, the thin schoolteacher in front of him was like a chicken waiting to be slaughtered, without even a chance to scream.

The cold glint of the dagger had already touched the clothing on Rhode's back.

At this distance and at this speed, the average human's neural reaction time is simply insufficient to make an evasive maneuver.

Rhodes indeed didn't have time to dodge.

His brain received a danger signal, his ears picked up the faint sound of fabric rubbing together, and his body wanted to either fall forward or roll to the right.

However, the inertia of his body prevented him from completing these movements in 0.1 seconds.

If it were Rhodes three hours ago, he would already be a corpse by now.

But now, genes from the ancient underground flow through his veins.

Just as the dagger pierced the linen robe and was about to penetrate the skin, Rhodes's stress response mechanism was triggered.

No complicated incantations are needed, no lengthy guidance is required, and even Rhodes's subjective consciousness does not need to keep up.

That's the survival instinct ingrained deep in the genes of the Stone-skinned Groundwalker, hardening its skin the instant it's attacked.

"Buzz~~"

Rhodes felt his back skin instantly become burning hot, followed by a sharp contraction.

The skin, which was originally soft and elastic, changed its properties in a fraction of a second.

The cell walls keratinize instantly, and the subcutaneous tissue rapidly reorganizes, forming a dense layer with a structure similar to granite crystals.

This change is not systemic, but rather precisely concentrated in the area of ​​the back that was struck.

"Ding!"

A crisp, clear sound, like a hammer striking heavy rock, echoed through the silent, dark wooden path.

The sound carried far in the empty night, even startling several crows perched on the treetops.

The assassin's previously indifferent gaze froze instantly.

The smooth feeling of the blade cutting into flesh that he had expected did not occur. Instead, he was met with a huge and brutal recoil force.

It felt like he had stabbed a hard iron plate with all his might.

The enormous reaction force traveled along the dagger to his wrist, making his hand go numb and almost causing the dagger to fly out of his grasp.

"What...?"

An absurd thought flashed through the assassin's mind.

He looked at his dagger.

The finely crafted steel dagger, costing a fortune and powerful enough to pierce chainmail, was now pressed against the young teaching assistant's back.

Beneath the pierced gray robe, what was revealed was not a blood-soaked wound, but a patch of grayish-white skin with a rough, rock-like texture.

The tip of the knife left a white spot on it, and even sparked a few flecks, but it didn't even pierce the skin.

This is not human skin.

"wizard?!"

The assassin's heart skipped a beat.

The intelligence is incorrect!

The employer clearly stated that this was a useless teaching assistant with no magical abilities whatsoever, not even an apprentice!

If the other party were a wizard, even just a first-level apprentice who had mastered the Stone Skin spell, the nature of this assassination would be completely different.

For a mortal to assassinate a wizard is tantamount to courting death.

But the assassin was, after all, an experienced veteran.

After a brief moment of shock, he immediately made a judgment: there was no magical shield glowing around the other party, nor was there any sound of incantation being chanted.

"It's a corrupted item! Or some kind of one-time-use defensive scroll!"

The assassin gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with even more murderous intent.

Once the decision has been made, there's no turning back.

If the opponent relies on external objects, then this kind of defense will definitely have limitations on the number of times it can be used or the coverage area.

Using the force of the recoil, the assassin twisted his body strangely in mid-air, retracted his dagger, and prepared to launch a second attack.

This time, he aimed for Rod's neck.

However, he missed his best chance to deliver a fatal blow.

The young teaching assistant he had regarded as prey had already turned around.

There was no fear, no panic, and not even the hysteria that ordinary people experience when facing a life-or-death crisis on Rhodes' face.

In those dark eyes, the assassin saw only a chilling calmness, and a hint of... the coldness of someone examining an experimental specimen.

Rhodes looked at the short figure in front of him, dressed in all black and wearing a mask.

The impact he felt just now confirmed one thing for him: the Stone-Skinned Groundwalker's defense was strong enough to make it immune to melee weapon attacks at the level of mortals.

Since the defense is not a problem, then what remains is...

Rhodes's gaze fell on the assassin's blue-glowing dagger.

"Poisoned weapons, professional footwork, and a no-nonsense style."

Rhodes' voice was exceptionally clear in the night, even carrying a hint of hoarse mockery: "You guys really went all out to kill a history teaching assistant."

The assassin remained silent, crouching low as he searched for blind spots in Rhodes' defenses.

"Since you're here..."

Rhodes slowly raised his right hand, and his originally pale palm began to change visibly under the moonlight. Grayish-white rock-like textures quickly covered his entire palm, and his knuckles became thick and hard: "Then don't leave."

This was the first time Rhodes had actively activated his ability in actual combat.

The feeling of being filled with power completely relaxed his nerves, which had been tense due to fear.