The three divided the supplies among their backpacks, with Bratt carrying a larger share of the communal items. Since it was still early, they went to browse the marketplace as well.

There were indeed quite a few excellent goods. To stay alive, many people had brought out treasures they had kept hidden away, but the three paupers could afford none of them.

Items belonging to wizards had plummeted in price. Even spellbooks once impossible to obtain for a thousand gold pieces attracted no offers, despite being filled with 3rd-level spells.

The prices of food and livestock had multiplied. Anser had intended to spend his remaining two hundred or so gold pieces on three riding horses, but none were available even at three times the normal price. He had no choice but to give up.

He did, however, find Finn a decent suit of studded leather armor and equip Bratt with a shield and several handaxes. None were magical, but they were good enough.

The sky changed without warning. Dark clouds blotted out every trace of light.

They hurried back. The instant they closed their door, lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and a gale drove torrential rain against the window hard enough to threaten the glass.

Finn recalled his gray hawk to the inn to rest, and it brought back the latest information.

After probing Wyrm’s Rock Fortress with an attack, the underground creatures had quickly withdrawn. While confronting the Upper City, they occupied Baldur’s Gate’s Outer City districts without destroying buildings on a large scale, as though they intended to settle there.

The good news was that Wyrm’s Crossing remained intact.

Inside the room, Finn sat on the floor and cut strips of meat into small pieces. Each casual toss was caught and swallowed by the gray hawk beside him.

The hawk was a magnificent creature. Standing nearly three feet tall, it carried an imposing dignity in its every glance.

At the moment, it leaned against Anser and allowed him to wipe the water from its feathers without the slightest resistance.

“It seems humans aren’t the only ones who like you. Animals do too. Sorcerers really are loved by everyone...” Bratt made no attempt to hide his envy.

He adored the gray hawk, but it refused to let anyone except Finn approach. Anser was the sole exception. It had even moved beside him on its own and kept pressing closer.

Anser smiled and tossed the damp cloth onto a nearby rack.

The gray hawk liked him for more than his high Charisma. The mana around Anser was as docile as a kitten, while Primal Companions instinctively avoided chaotic magical environments.

“You worked hard today. Here’s one for you.” He took out his remaining Goodberries and casually tossed one to the gray hawk.

The hawk darted its head forward and caught the berry cleanly. It tipped back its neck, swallowed, and narrowed its eyes in apparent enjoyment.

Nearby, Bratt took out weapon oil and carefully maintained his magic longsword, the most valuable possession he owned.

“I heard the guild just issued an unranked extermination commission targeting underground creatures. Complete heads or left ears can be exchanged for bounties, and the three Grand Dukes are funding it...”

Anser paused, his face twisting with heartache. “What a loss. What a terrible loss...”

Bratt smiled. “Two gold pieces for a goblin, six for a hobgoblin, twenty for a bugbear, thirty-five for a duergar. Classed individuals are priced separately...”

“That’s... incredibly stingy.” Anser was speechless.

Even the weakest goblin minion was an armed monster, and they moved in groups at the slightest opportunity. Risking one’s life for only a few gold pieces hardly seemed worthwhile.

“It’s already a generous offer,” Bratt explained. “If the bounties were any higher, the Grand Dukes probably couldn’t afford them.”

In Baldur’s Gate, even a highly skilled veteran craftsman earned only a few silver pieces a day.

“Fair point.” Anser thought plenty of classed individuals and civilians would take the risk as long as the promised rewards were paid.

He ate a Goodberry and lay back on the bed. “I’m going to meditate. I won’t be eating dinner.”

“All right...”

Bratt and Finn answered, making their movements quieter.

Anser focused on meditating. Over two hours, he attuned first to the Ring of Spell Storing and then to the Cloak of Protection, recovering some mana in the process.

Next came storing spells in the ring.

This was more difficult than simply casting. He could not fully release the spell. Instead, he had to control it at the point just before discharge and then store it in the ring. Its power depended entirely on the caster.

That posed no difficulty for Anser. His control over mana was excellent, and he soon completed the casting and storage.

Five 1st-level spells: three Magic Missiles and two Chromatic Orbs.

Every blue magical pattern on the ring lit up beneath a soft magical glow.

Spells within the Ring of Spell Storing still needed to be activated and guided. They were not instantaneous and could not be enhanced with Metamagic, but they were faster to cast. If Anser poured them out in a short burst, classed individuals below Level 4 would be hard-pressed to survive.

After spending five mana, Anser felt somewhat hollow. He kicked off his shoes and fell backward onto the bed.

The heavy rain made the night especially comfortable for sleeping.

—

An unknown amount of time passed.

BOOM—

An earth-shaking explosion overwhelmed even the thunder. Tremors swept through Rivington.

Anser’s heart clenched. His eyes snapped open to a pitch-black room, while the patter of rain came through the window.

“Something happened!”

Bratt was already awake and standing beside the window. He pulled it open a crack, and the sound of wind and rain immediately grew louder, mingled with a cacophony of human voices.

The window faced south, offering no view of what had happened to the north.

Click. Anser opened his pocket watch. It was three-thirty in the morning, when people were at their most exhausted.

“Damn it!” He had not enjoyed a single good night’s sleep since transmigrating, and his temper was beginning to fray. Mana churned around him, while faint light appeared in his eyes.

“Open the window,” Finn reminded them.

Bratt pulled the window fully open. The gray hawk leaped onto the sill, observed its surroundings for a moment, then pushed off with both legs and vanished into the night.

“Pack everything. Be ready to leave at any moment.” Unease filled Anser. He put on his clothes and shoes and set his backpack beside his feet.

“I’ll go find out what’s happening.” Bratt was already fully dressed and equipped.

“Be careful. Don’t go far,” Anser warned.

“Understood.”

Finn sat on the edge of the bed. The gray hawk had flown beyond the range of their mental communication, leaving him no choice but to wait for its return.

Several minutes passed. His eyelids drooped and his gaze went blank. Then horror crept across his stiff face.

“What is it?” Anser’s heart sank.

“Wyrm’s Crossing collapsed. The river changed course and is flooding the district. Underground creatures...” Finn forced out one word at a time.

Anser shook from head to toe. A storm surged through his mind, and his fists clenched.

‘That was an explosion!’ He was absolutely certain.

Large numbers of underground creatures had appeared in Rivington. Combined with the explosion, Anser had already formed a theory.

The duergar had launched a surprise attack in the night, and Wyrm’s Rock Fortress had collapsed instantly—so quickly that the Flaming Fist had no time to raise an alarm.

But the Flaming Fist commander had prepared for that possibility. He had blown up Wyrm’s Crossing, damaging the riverbank and damming the southern stretch of the River Chionthar. The swollen river had changed course and poured into Rivington.

The high tide, torrential rain, and overdeveloped dock district had all helped the disaster along.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

As Anser considered the situation, the guild’s piercing bells rang out, breaking the night and carrying far into the distance.

The door crashed open as Bratt charged inside, panting heavily.

“Move, move! The River Chionthar has burst its banks, and monsters are inside the district!”

“Go!”

Anser shouldered his backpack, pulled up his hood, and strode out the door.

It was pitch-dark outside. He raised a hand and cast Light on his staff, its brilliant glow immediately driving back the darkness.

The corridor was in chaos. Many doors stood open as disheveled adventurers rushed toward the stairs.

The three hurried downstairs. The small Adventurers’ Home hall was already deserted, with only a single wall lamp shedding a feeble glow.

Thanks to all the honored readers for your support and suggestions!

(End of Chapter)