I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

That evening, on the top floor of the history department building.

Thanks to the generous sponsorship of his mentor Galon, Rhodes' living environment underwent a dramatic transformation.

He moved from his drafty single dormitory room into a luxurious suite that was originally intended for visiting professors.

Thick Persian carpets, an intricately carved mahogany bed, and a complete set of alchemical experimental tables.

But Rhodes wasn't in the mood to enjoy any of this.

He closed the windows tightly, drew the heavy velvet curtains, and even sprinkled a circle of "spirit-repelling salt" he had bought from the black market at the doorway.

After doing all this, he sat down at the large desk and poured himself a glass of cold water.

"The tremors in the Pokédex are still ongoing, and the source is right here..."

Rod tapped his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze suddenly freezing on a shadowy spot in the corner of the room.

The candlelight there had somehow turned into a bleak, eerie green.

The temperature in the once warm room suddenly dropped, and a thin layer of frost instantly formed on the surface of the water in the cup.

The shadow began to twist and elongate, eventually peeling off the wall like a blob of black ink, coalescing into a human silhouette dressed in a black robe with a withered face.

Those eyes had no pupils, only two burning green flames, staring intently at Rhodes.

Mortimer, Head of Necromancer Research, Third Ring Archmage.

Rod's fingers tightened slightly around the water glass, but he did not stand up or make any aggressive gesture.

Because he knew very well that in front of the projection of a third-ringed archmage, even if he activated [Steelmane Giant Arm], he was nothing more than a slightly stronger ant.

Good evening, Professor Mortimer.

Rhodes's voice was steady: "The history department's tea might not be as flavorful as the necromancy department's preservatives. Would you like a cup?"

"Tea?"

Mortimer let out a hoarse, cold laugh, his voice like two bones grinding together: "Rhode Griffin, or should I call you... that so-called bloodline genius?"

The dark shadow slowly drifted closer and hovered opposite the desk.

"That old fool Galon might be fooled by your beastly hide, but I won't."

Mortimer's ghostly eyes drew closer to Rhodes, as if trying to see into his soul: "There's a smell about you. Although you've tried to cover it up with a strong stench of blood, and even used special methods to isolate it... you can't hide that smell."

He took a deep breath, a look of ecstasy and greed on his face.

"That's the smell of resentment, the curse of a noble lion on its deathbed... That's mine."

Rhodes' heart skipped a beat.

Lionheart Seal Ring!

Even though he had hidden the ring in a crack in the incinerator wall, and even though he had treated it with special methods, touching the ring still tainted his soul with an extremely faint trace of a curse.

This is negligible to an ordinary wizard, but to Mortimer, who deals with vengeful spirits all day long, it is as bright as a lighthouse in the dark.

I was careless and failed to understand the methods of the Third Ring Archmage.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rhodes said without changing his expression.

"Stop playing dumb, little mouse."

Mortimer's projection suddenly extended a withered claw. Although it was a phantom, a terrifying mental pressure instantly pressed down on Rhodes like a mountain.

"Snap!"

The water glass in Rod's hand shattered instantly, and shards cut his palm.

"You disposed of that royal guard's body, and the ring is missing. And you, a penniless teaching assistant, suddenly have money to squander on the black market, and even suddenly awaken your powers."

Mortimer's voice turned sinister and terrifying: "Hand over the ring, or I'll extract your soul and stuff it into a ghoul's body, making you crawl in a cesspool for eternity. Don't expect Galon to save you; before necromancy, bloodline wizards are nothing but a bunch of brute force brutes."

A profound sense of fear enveloped Rhodes.

This is absolute suppression based on hierarchy.

Mortimer could kill Rhodes right now with a curse, if he wanted to.

But Rod showed no fear. He ignored the blood flowing from his palm and instead slowly took out a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wiped the wound.

"Professor Mortimer, you are indeed very strong."

Rhodes raised his head and looked directly into those burning, ghostly eyes: "But you seem to have forgotten one thing. If the ring were really on me, you should have just killed me and searched my body, instead of wasting your breath talking to me here."

Mortimer's eyes narrowed.

"You're not doing anything because you can't find the ring."

Rhodes tossed the blood-stained handkerchief onto the table, leaned back in his chair, and adopted a negotiator's stance: "I've hidden the ring in an absolutely safe place. Only I know where it is. If I die, or if my soul suffers any damage..."

Rod pulled a neatly folded parchment from his sleeve and gently pushed it in front of Mortimer.

"...Then, this list, along with the location of that ring, will appear on the Lightforged family patriarch's table the next morning."

Mortimer looked down.

It was a copy of a black market transaction list.

The document contains detailed records of the high-level experimental corpses and prohibited soul fragments that the Necromancer organization has been selling to the black market without authorization over the past six months.

The person who handled each transaction belonged to the necromancy faction, and if the investigation were to go deeper, it would inevitably point to Mortimer.

This is a talisman that Rhodes bought at a high price when purchasing meditation materials from Jack.

As an information broker, Jack naturally had this kind of dirty secret. As long as the price was right, he could even sell the color of his own father's underwear.

As for why he dared to release this information, the protector of the black market was also a third-ring archmage, so he was naturally not afraid of Mortimer.

"Embezzling public funds and reselling contraband."

Rhodes tapped his finger on the list, a cold smile playing on his lips. "If I remember correctly, the Lightforged family hates nothing more than the desecration of the dead. If they knew you'd sold the remains of their fallen comrades to dark wizards for experiments..."

The temperature in the room instantly dropped to freezing.

Mortimer's black aura surged violently, clearly on the verge of exploding in rage.

"You dare threaten me?"

"No, this is a deal."

Rhodes remained fearless: "You want the ring because it's evidence of your murder of a member of the royal family, and you're afraid of being punished. As for me, I just want to live."

It's a big gamble.

Rhodes is betting on Mortimer's greed and fear.

Although Mortimer is a third-ring wizard, he is not invincible.

He had political enemies at the academy and enemies outside.

Once these scandals are exposed, he will not only be disgraced, but may even be brought to trial.

silence.

The suffocating silence lasted for a full minute.

Finally, the black aura surrounding Mortimer slowly dissipated.

Those ghostly eyes gave Rhodes a deep look: "Very good... Rhodes Griffin."

Mortimer's voice returned to calm, but it was more dangerous than before: "You are smarter than I thought, and more repulsive. You have the heart of a born dark wizard."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Rod said casually.

"The ring is temporarily being held by you."

Mortimer's projection began to dissipate, returning to shadow: "But remember, this is only temporary. As soon as you show the slightest weakness... I will show you that death is not liberation."

"Phew~~"

The cold wind dissipated, and the candlelight returned to its normal orange-yellow color.

The temperature in the room began to rise.

Rod sat in the chair, motionless.

Only after confirming that Mortimer's presence had completely disappeared did he exhale a long breath, only to find that his back was already soaked with cold sweat.

Won.

By exploiting information asymmetry, he managed to survive in front of a third-circle archmage and achieve a terrifying balance.

Rod stared at the blood-stained handkerchief on the table, his eyes deep and unfathomable.

"Mortimer won't dare touch me for now. The Iron Duke can be held back by Mentor Galon, and the King has the ruins hanging over him..."

He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark night outside.

He was now like someone walking a tightrope on a cliff, with a bottomless abyss beneath his feet, yet holding several fuses in his hands that could ignite the entire academy.

"This feeling..."

Rhodes clenched his fists, feeling the surging magic and bloodline power within his body.

"That's really good."

The night outside the window was as dark as ink, swallowing the towering spire of the Royal Academy into endless darkness.

Rhodes stood by the window, the wound on his palm had stopped bleeding, but the trembling feeling of dancing on the edge of a knife kept him wide awake.

"A balance has been achieved, but that's not enough."

Rhodes gazed out the window, his eyes deep and unfathomable: "Mortimer is a viper. Once he finds a way to resolve the Lightforged family's troubles, or finds the ring, he will not hesitate to bite me to death. If I want to live, I cannot let him remain idle."

He turned and put on the dark brown camouflage cloak, pulling the hood down to cover half his face.

"Since the water is already muddy, let's make it even muddier."