"Learn magic?"
Matthew was genuinely surprised. It wasn't as if he had never imagined what it would be like to et the Ancient One.
Ever since awakening the mories of his past life and obtaining the sign-in system, he had understood one thing clearly—
He had inevitably disrupted the tiline.
If he had remained an ordinary person, his impact on the tiline would have been minimal. His influence would simply have been too small.
But he had a cheat-like advantage. His strength kept growing, and with it ca ambition and plans for the future.
That ant he would inevitably change the fate of countless people.
And that level of influence would undoubtedly affect the tiline itself.
As soone responsible for guarding it, the Ancient One also bore the duty of protecting the tiline. Yet she had not co for him all this ti.
That alone suggested sothing had changed—sothing that made her choose neither to erase him nor to correct the anomaly.
Matthew had already figured as much.
What he hadn't expected was that when she finally ca, not only was her attitude amicable—she even intended to let him learn magic.
"Knowledge will never betray you. It allows you to understand a broader world… and a greater universe."
In response to his surprise, the Ancient One offered no direct explanation—only this aningful statent.
"And the price?"
Matthew was practical. Whatever her intentions were, if she dared to offer, he would dare to consider—but he needed to know what he would have to give in return.
The Ancient One shook her head.
"There is no price."
"You may consider this… an investnt."
"Alright."
Matthew agreed without hesitation.
At her level, it was impossible for there to be no calculations behind her actions—but he wasn't worried.
As far as he was concerned, he would take the benefits first. As for the future, that could wait.
As long as it was within his ability, he didn't mind repaying this "top patron" soday.
And if there truly were hidden ill intentions—by the ti that mattered, he had no idea how far he would have grown.
Either way, he wouldn't be the one at a disadvantage.
Besides, the Ancient One belonged to the side of guardians. Her credibility was far higher.
If it had been phisto making this offer, Matthew wouldn't have believed a single word.
"This is the address. You can go there anyti. Soone will take you to Kamar-Taj."
The Ancient One smiled lightly and handed him a business card.
The mont Matthew took it, ti resud its normal flow.
Her figure dissolved like an illusion, and the roar of the aircraft filled his ears once more.
There was no deliberate mystique—her words had been concise and direct, her purpose clear.
Matthew understood this well.
The Ancient One was a true strategist. If she wished, every move she made could be precise and targeted.
From the mont Matthew rose to prominence, she would naturally have been watching him. The traits he had displayed along the way—she undoubtedly knew them all.
That was why she didn't treat him like her other disciples.
Intelligent people had their own way of communicating with one another.
Matthew glanced at the address on the card.
177A Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village, New York City.
"Talk about perfect timing."
A faint smile curved at his lips.
With a connection now established to the wealthy "top patron" — the Ancient One — Matthew finally had a path to learning magic.
Moreover, the sorcerers of Kamar-Taj themselves were valuable resources.
Magic was sothing anyone could learn. In the future, when he built his own magical combat unit, he could even hire those sorcerers as instructors.
After all, he couldn't very well teach everything himself, could he?
Once he dealt with the Red Room, he could head to Kamar-Taj.
…
Saint Petersburg.
Russia's second-largest city, located in the northwest along the eastern coast of the Gulf of Finland, at the mouth of the Neva River. It was known as the "Northern Capital" and the "Cultural Capital."
This great tropolis, listed as a World Heritage site, now stirred with undercurrents beneath its surface.
Snow fell steadily from the sky, blanketing the streets in thick layers. People in heavy winter coats went about their day—working, shopping.
But inside an ordinary apartnt building—
A beautiful woman with wine-red hair tied in a high ponytail sat in the living room, dressed in a black sweater and pants. On the coffee table before her sat a laptop and a tal case.
Her delicate face was expressionless, her green eyes reflecting a 3D blueprint of a building.
She was planning an infiltration route.
Yes—she was a spy.
Her na was Natasha Romanoff, from the Red Room.
Having endured brutal training since childhood, she had experienced pain beyond what ordinary people could imagine. But those years had also given her skills far beyond the norm.
She ca from the Red Room, and upon graduation, she had been given the title of Black Widow.
Out of hundreds, perhaps only one would ever reach that level.
That alone spoke to her excellence.
This ti, she had been sent to Saint Petersburg to carry out an assassination and retrieve classified docunts. Her target was a highly influential tycoon.
Years of assassination missions had long since filled Natasha with disgust.
She had thought about escaping countless tis—but she knew it was impossible.
She understood too well the scale of the Red Room. If she defected, she would be hunted endlessly until death.
Natasha didn't want to die.
She longed for freedom—for the life she had once dread of.
But her hands were stained with too much blood.
At this point, she had fallen into deep confusion.
What could she possibly do to escape this cursed fate?
Leaning back against the sofa, Natasha closed her eyes.
No one could see that beneath her flawless exterior was a soul burdened with trauma, sorrow, and confusion.
She wanted redemption.
Outside the window, the heavy snow fell in silence.
After a long while, Natasha opened her eyes. She stood up and opened the tal case, revealing an array of weapons. Casually, she picked up a short dagger and a Walther PPK, tucking them into the back of her waist.
Closing the case, she moved to the entryway, put on a gray coat, pulled up her hood, and slipped on thick-soled boots before leaving the apartnt.
Downstairs, the noise of the city grew louder. Pedestrians filled the streets, and vehicles passed by.
The residential area was a maze of buildings—perfect for a spy like her to hide and escape.
With her head slightly lowered and hands in her pockets, she walked alone through the wind and snow.
Blending into the ordinary surroundings.
Passing one pedestrian after another, she saw couples walking with their children—smiles on their faces.
Her gaze lowered, and the faint stirrings in her heart were buried deep once more.
Street after street, she eventually arrived at a café called Saint Enoch's Corner.
After a quick, habitual scan of the surroundings, she ordered a coffee and took a seat by the window.
Sipping her drink, she watched the scene outside.
Across the street stood a large building—the company of her target.
She had co here under the pretense of coffee, but in truth, she was observing security shift changes, determining the best timing and thod for infiltration.
As Natasha observed in silence, the chi above the door rang clearly. Natasha instinctively glanced over, and her pupils suddenly constricted.
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