“Which way?” Bratt casually tossed the key onto the counter.

“Don’t rush.” Anser turned to Finn. “What’s the situation?”

“The fortress has fallen. The flood is severe. The district is in chaos, monsters are everywhere, and many people are dead...” Finn was observing Rivington in real time. His voice was hoarse. No one could remain unmoved by such a catastrophe.

As Anser listened to Finn’s fragmented report, an image took shape in his mind.

The southern section of Wyrm’s Crossing and the riverbank had collapsed, blocking half the channel. But since the district stood on relatively high ground, the flood broke through the bank at the northeastern dock district and flowed south along Rivington’s eastern edge, leaving the main urban area largely unaffected.

The people did not know that, however. With large numbers of underground creatures appearing at the bridgehead, panic seized them and they fled south in a frenzy. A massive stampede followed, and many ran straight into the flood, causing horrific casualties.

Judging from the terrain, the floodwater would probably leave from Rivington’s southeast, curve around the district, and empty into the Sea of Swords to the southwest as a new tributary. The entire district would then be trapped within a giant triangle formed by the River Chionthar and its new branch.

“Too late!” Finn’s mouth twisted, his expression stiff.

The flood was moving too quickly. The guild stood near the center of the district, and even if they sprinted east now, they could not escape before the water arrived.

“Sigh—” Anser raised his head and let out a long breath.

Disaster was always one step ahead of him—but only one step!

“Wyrm’s Rock Fortress... is packed with underground creatures.” Finn rubbed his beard haphazardly, his face taut.

“Good thing we didn’t stay there.” A belated chill ran through Bratt.

“The Flaming Fist commander must have planned this from the beginning. That’s why he drove everyone out.” Anser sighed, realizing he had underestimated the man.

He had thought himself smarter than a proper commander merely because he had encountered more information in his previous life. How naive!

The explosives had probably been planted after the Flaming Fist’s main force was routed. There had been more than enough, ensuring the bridge could not survive. Unfortunately, the torrential rain had brought down the southern riverbank as well. Otherwise, the plan would have been nearly perfect.

The objective had clearly been to stop the underground creatures from advancing south and protect the tens of thousands of people and farms in Rivington. They were the foundation of Baldur’s Gate. Without its people, even retaking the city would leave the City of Trade ruined and reconstruction far beyond reach.

Why was the slave trade so rampant across Faerûn despite repeated bans? Because people were too valuable.

The plan itself had been good, but those carrying it out had hesitated, unwilling to sacrifice Wyrm’s Crossing. Had they blown up the northern span in advance, the current situation could have been avoided.

The three reached the entrance to the hall. Distant screams and shouts rode the wind, along with the scent of blood.

“Prepare for battle. Have the gray hawk keep a close watch on the district.” They had no idea what might happen if they remained holed up here. Anser hated passivity.

They were fully supplied. The farms west of the district or the wilderness would both be reasonable destinations. Numerous fishing villages dotted the western coast, so they would find some way to leave.

Bratt pulled up the hood of his surcoat, shield raised in his left hand and sword held in his right. His expression was cold and stern.

Finn drew and strung his longbow, adjusted his quiver, then nodded to Anser.

“Move—”

Anser stepped through the guild doors and plunged straight into the wind and rain.

Bratt and Finn quickly caught up, guarding him from the front and rear.

They had delayed inside the guild for a while, and the crowds on Middle Street had thinned considerably, though waves of people were still fleeing south in a frenzy.

The entire district had descended into chaos. Wreckage lay everywhere. Many people did not even know what had happened and were blindly following the crowd.

The three splashed through standing water, followed Middle Street north for a hundred meters, then turned left into a side road.

They had gone only a few steps when a jumble of footsteps and cries rapidly approached.

“Run! There are monsters...”

“Help—”

“...”

Anser and Bratt exchanged a startled look. Just how many underground creatures had arrived for them to appear even in the center of the district?

A group of civilians burst from an alley ahead. When they turned and saw Anser’s illuminated staff, they were overjoyed and raced toward him in a disorderly rush.

“Back, back, back! Make room.” Anser waved and retreated quickly with the crowd, tossing his backpack into a corner.

The situation was unclear, and he had no desire to engage monsters in melee on the street.

The three had retreated only ten or so meters when six or seven short, dark figures rushed from the dim alley. They stood roughly 1.2 to 1.5 meters tall, with hunched backs and enormous heads.

Anser focused on them, and his heart immediately jumped.

‘Kuo-toa! How did they end up working with the duergar?!’

Kuo-toa had once spread across the coasts and islands of the surface world, but humans and other surface races had driven them underground long ago.

Like the duergar, they had once been enslaved by mind flayers. Unlike the duergar, however, the mind flayers had abandoned them—probably because... they were not very useful.

“Hah!” Bratt had no idea what kind of fish-men they were. With an angry shout, he turned sideways and planted his shield at the front, his longsword poised in his right hand.

Whoosh—

An arrow streaked through the night. Its point pierced the fine rain, while a spiral of wind formed a tiny cone of mist behind it. The arrow struck a kuo-toa precisely in the head.

With a splash, the fish-man toppled backward, blood reddening the water pooled on the street.

“Chromatic Orb—Lightning!”

Anser swept his staff forward. A blue sphere of energy trailing light slammed into the kuo-toa group.

The leading fish-man raised an iron fork across his chest. An instant later, the sphere erupted. Lightning pierced his body, scorching his skin and locking his muscles before he fell rigidly to the ground.

Amid the explosion, the sphere leaped again and struck another fish-man in the waist before bursting with a roar.

Lightning traveled from the fish-man’s body into the filthy water beneath its feet. Electricity spread outward, every kuo-toa stiffened, and they toppled in all directions.

‘Idiots. Don’t you know metal conducts electricity?’ The corner of Anser’s mouth rose slightly.

[You cast Chromatic Orb on a kuo-toa... Kuo-toa hit. 18 Lightning damage dealt. Fatal Blow. Target killed. 50 Combat Experience gained.]

[You cast Chromatic Orb on a kuo-toa... Kuo-toa hit. 12 Lightning damage dealt. Current Hit Points: 5/17.]

Splash, splash, splash. Bratt’s boots kicked water into the air as he seized the opportunity to charge.

Whoosh! Whoosh—

Two arrows flew over him in quick succession and struck the fallen kuo-toa. Piercing wails rose one after another.

The two survivors had only just regained their feet when Bratt arrived. He knocked one flying with his shield, then thrust upward with his longsword, driving it through the other’s bulging fish eye and out the back of its skull.

[Target killed. 21 Combat Experience gained.]

Anser ended his casting. Before he even had time to finish off a wounded enemy, the battle was over.

Of the seven fish-men, Anser killed one and severely wounded another. Finn killed three, while Bratt finished the rest off. The fight had been clean and efficient.

Bratt checked the bodies. After confirming that none of the monsters remained alive, he turned and gave Anser a thumbs-up.

For the first time, he understood why spellcasters commanded such respect. With favorable weather and terrain, a single 1st-level spell had controlled the battlefield and turned a difficult fight into something simple.

“Ha! Just a bunch of small fry. Let’s clean this up, then we’ll—”

As Anser spoke, a chill ran down his back. From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a streak of ghostly blue sweeping toward his neck from the side.

His entire body tensed in mortal terror, and he instinctively activated Shield.

The cold gleam closed in. At the critical instant, an invisible barrier of force appeared before the blade.

Clang—

The shield flickered once, then shattered with a bang.

Anser threw himself forward and rolled awkwardly through the mud, opening a gap of two meters. His heart pounded. He had even felt the dagger’s icy touch as it brushed his cloak.

There was no time to feel relieved. He turned and saw a short, cloaked figure standing where no one had been before, holding a strangely shaped dagger glowing ghostly blue.

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

(End of Chapter)