I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

The assassin's pupils reflected the giant, grayish-white hand covered in rock-like textures.

The hand didn't appear clumsy in the moonlight; instead, it carried a suffocating sense of oppression, like a boulder rolling down a cliff, carrying unstoppable kinetic energy.

As a seasoned assassin, the assassin's muscle memory came into play in that instant.

Instead of trying to block, he forcefully twisted his waist, attempting to use his prized agility to spring backward and create distance.

If he could maintain a distance of three meters, he could slowly grind this freak to death using poisoned throwing knives and unpredictable footwork.

His reaction was incredibly fast; it could even be said to be the pinnacle of mortal martial arts.

But he underestimated Rhodes.

Or rather, he underestimated the explosive power of the ancient creature, the Stone-skinned Groundwalker.

These predators, which live deep underground, are usually slow-moving, but in the instant of hunting, they can rely on their powerful limb muscles to burst into terrifying acceleration in narrow tunnels.

"Trying to run away?"

Rhodes's eyes were as cold as knives.

He stomped his right foot hard on the ground, and the fallen leaves and soil on the ground exploded instantly.

Using this reaction force, his body shot out like a cannonball, instantly bridging the negligible distance between the two.

The petrified right hand clenched into a fist.

There are no fancy techniques, no unnecessary feints.

It was a straight punch aimed at the assassin's chest.

The assassin, still suspended in mid-air, had nowhere to brace himself. His eyes widened in terror as he watched the grayish-white fist rapidly enlarge in his field of vision.

"Bang!"

A dull, resounding crash echoed through the Blackwood Path, like a hammer slamming into a bag of wet flour.

Immediately following was a series of teeth-grinding "crack" sounds, with ribs breaking and sternum shattering.

The assassin didn't even have time to scream before he was sent flying backward like a rag doll.

He flew through the air in a tragic arc and crashed heavily into the trunk of a black cedar tree five meters away.

Wow~~

The assassin slid to the ground, spitting out a mouthful of blood mixed with pieces of internal organs.

His chest had completely collapsed, leaving a horrifying crater.

The specially made leather armor was as fragile as a sheet of paper in front of Rhodes' fist, and was blasted into a pulp along with the muscles and bones underneath.

The assassin's body twitched twice, and the light in his eyes quickly faded.

Even in death, the look of disbelief and terror remained on his face.

One punch.

Just one punch.

Rod stood still, maintaining his punching stance.

A few seconds later, he slowly withdrew his right hand.

As the mind relaxed, that burning sensation of power began to subside.

The grayish-white rock texture disappeared from his skin like the receding tide, replaced by the original pale human skin.

But at this moment, that hand was covered in warm, sticky blood.

Rod pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and expressionlessly wiped the blood from his hands.

He walked quickly to the assassin's body.

This is a secluded corner of the academy. Although it's usually deserted, the commotion just now was quite loud, so we must deal with the scene as soon as possible.

As a doctor, Rhodes had an excellent understanding of the human body's structure.

He didn't touch the cuffs and collar where poison needles might be hidden, but instead skillfully avoided dangerous areas and began the body search.

Soon, several items were placed on the ground.

A poisoned dagger, a bag of about twenty gold coins, a letter sealed with wax, and a black coin of a special material.

Rod didn't reach for the dagger; it was a murder weapon, bearing too obvious personal characteristics.

He stuffed the gold coins, letters, and coins into his pocket.

Then, he grabbed the assassin's ankle and, using his enhanced strength, dragged the body like a dead dog to a hidden ditch beside the path.

This place connects to the capital's vast underground sewer system, which is inhabited by countless mutated carrion rats.

"Dust to dust, ashes to ashes."

Rhodes pushed the body down into the water, listening to the sound of the heavy object hitting the water, and said in a low voice, "Don't take this kind of job in your next life."

After doing all this, he kicked away the bloodstains on the ground and covered them with fresh fallen leaves.

After confirming that he had not left any obvious traces, Rhodes lowered his body and quickly disappeared into the night.

……

Back in his cramped single room, Rod immediately locked the door and drew the heavy curtains.

He lit the whale oil lamp on the table; the dim yellow flame flickered, casting his shadow on the wall, making it appear somewhat erratic.

Rhodes sat at the table, his heart still pounding.

He poured himself a glass of cold water and drank it all in one gulp. The icy liquid slid down his esophagus, cooling his feverish brain a little.

He took out his spoils from tonight and placed them on the table.

Twenty gold coins shaped like golden pheasants—this was a huge sum of money, equivalent to two years' salary for him.

For Rhodes at this point, this was a godsend.

But Rhodes' gaze didn't linger on the gold coin for long; he picked up the black coin instead.

The coin felt cold to the touch, and the material didn't seem like metal; it looked more like it was made from some kind of bone.

The front is engraved with a mouse with only half a face, while the back is a complex maze pattern.

"A pass to Rat Alley..."

Rod squinted; he had seen a description of this pattern while organizing library materials.

The underground black market in the capital was known as Rat Alley.

It was a gathering place for contraband, stolen goods, and wild wizards not under the control of the council.

Only those who possess this token can find the entrance.

This thing is more valuable than gold coins.

Rod put down the coin and picked up the letter.

The sealing wax on the envelope had been destroyed, indicating that the assassin had clearly seen it when accepting the mission.

Rhodes pulled out the letter and quickly glanced through it.

The letter was short and the handwriting was messy, clearly written in a hurry.

"Shut that old bastard up. If he doesn't know what's good for him, make him disappear. Also, teach that arrogant assistant a lesson, preferably by accident, to warn the other idiots still researching mortal technology."

The inscription was not signed, but only contained a simple line drawing of a steel handguard.

Rhodes tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his expression turning serious.

Steel handguards.

During the Plantagenet dynasty, this badge belonged to only one person, the Iron Duke Balthazar.

He is the supreme commander of the mortal army and the leader of the radical mortal power faction.

This is very strange.

Professor Isaac's research is about uncovering the brilliance of ancient civilizations among mortals, which in theory is a way to bring honor to mortals. So why would the Iron Duke, as the leader of mortals, want to kill him?

Rhodes's mind raced, combining his historical knowledge from his previous life with the political landscape of this world, and a chilling conjecture surfaced.

Professor Isaac's research may have touched on some taboo.

Such miracles of human engineering may not be merely historical, but rather a force capable of threatening the existing ruling order, whether of wizards or mortal nobles.

The Iron Duke doesn't need such uncontrollable variables; what he needs is a stable army and power.

"What a mess."

Rod gave a wry smile and held the letter up to the oil lamp.

The flames licked at the paper, instantly turning it to ashes.

Also, there was absolutely no need to leave such an obvious symbol on the letter.

Was it a frame-up? Or did they think it was impossible to fail in killing two mortals? Or were they using this pattern to put pressure on the assassin?

He shook his head, deciding not to think about it anymore. He was just a lowly teaching assistant, not even a formal wizard apprentice.

Getting caught up in this political vortex involving the highest levels of the dynasty and the Wizard Council is practically suicide.

The assassin's death cannot be kept secret for long. Once the Iron Duke's men discover that the assassination has failed, the next wave of attacks will be even more intense.

The "Stone-skinned Groundwalker" gene alone cannot save him a second time.

If the next one is a real wizard apprentice, even if he only knows how to use acid splash, it could easily corrode his petrified skin.

Rhodes clenched his fist: "Power! I must master true superhuman power as soon as possible."

His trump card is extracting genes from the gene map, but that's not enough.

He needs systematic magical knowledge, needs to learn how to use magic, and needs to become a wizard protected by law.

Only by becoming a wizard and gaining a seat in the council would secular nobles dare not easily harm him.

Rod's gaze returned to the coin engraved with a rat.

Now that we have money and connections...

Then, the legendary "Basic Spiritual Training Method" that can transform one's spiritual power is no longer an unattainable dream.

Rod looked at the flickering flames and muttered to himself, "Tomorrow night, to Rat Alley."