As the energy dissipated, the chuul, Zahir, and the Flaming Fist elite lay motionless, either sprawled or curled on the ground. Pieces of shell and armor sloughed away, while their skin had turned dark purple and emitted thin trails of black smoke.

Horror showed on every surrounding face. Everyone stood rigid, and not one person dared approach. Losing two pillars of the battle had dealt an enormous blow to morale.

There were fewer than five elite classed individuals like Zahir on the entire battlefield.

The Kuo-toa Archpriest leaned on his rod, body hunched as blood flowed from every facial feature. He was in terrible condition.

The disruption of the Weave had clearly affected him severely. Even spell-like abilities that did not rely on the Weave could not entirely escape interference from the magical environment.

Anser’s face was taut. He wavered again and again, but still did not attack. He admitted that he was afraid. If the Kuo-toa Archpriest had strength remaining, attacking would be suicide.

He needed to wait for an opening.

“Aah—”

Rand charged over like a madman, knocking aside countless monsters along the way.

Regret had consumed him. He had had a chance to help, but when the battle stabilized, he had gone elsewhere to provide support instead of coming at once.

The Kuo-toa Archpriest opened his enormous mouth and chuckled, revealing sharp teeth. His strange, hoarse voice carried unmistakable madness.

He too had been waiting for an opportunity, though his trap had caught only two victims.

Seeing Rand charge toward him, the Archpriest shook the tendrils beneath his chin, jumped down from the chuul, and hurried toward the river on short legs, apparently intending to escape.

As an amphibious creature, leaping into the River Chionthar was like returning home. He had possessed an escape route from the very beginning.

A Kuo-toa Monitor riding a giant crab rushed forward to protect him, baring its teeth at the approaching Rand.

[Kuo-toa Monitor, Kuo-toa, Challenge Rating 3]

“Go save them.” Anser tossed his own Potion of Healing to Bratt as well.

Then he drew a deep breath and activated Innate Sorcery. Mana surged around him, causing his cloak to billow and snap.

He concentrated intensely, locking onto the short, purple-skinned priest from afar while continually calculating Rand’s position.

Innate Sorcery + Metamagic: Twinned Spell + Hold Person!

Impassioned Draconic words echoed as his staff seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. When he swung it, two nearly imperceptible glimmers of magic appeared above the Kuo-toa Archpriest and Kuo-toa Monitor.

Both fish-men stiffened. The Paralyzed condition locked every muscle, leaving even their dead fish eyes unable to move.

At that instant, Rand arrived. His furious charge sent standing water flying, tore through cold wind and drizzle, and dragged a long plume of mist behind him.

An instant later, the Kuo-toa Archpriest’s eyelids twitched and his limbs began to extend as the paralysis faded. Even in his terrible condition, Hold Person could affect him for less than a second.

One second was enough!

The sturdy longsword descended in a blaze of dazzling light. The Kuo-toa Archpriest instinctively raised his rod before his neck as a dim energy field appeared around his body. But he was facing Divine Smite—the pride of every paladin!

BOOM—

The energy field shattered. Metal clashed as a blade cut through flesh. Half the Archpriest’s arm and his rod flew away from his body, while his short form was hurled sideways. His neck had been split halfway through, and blue-green blood painted a magnificent mist across the air.

The light of Cure Wounds appeared over the Kuo-toa Archpriest. He was not dead yet!

“Haaah—”

Rand tensed and swung his arm in a full circle. His longsword transformed into a white streak that caught the falling fish-man in midair. It entered through the abdomen and emerged from the neck, forcing the ugly fish head sideways and exposing bloody tissue and windpipe.

[Target killed. 385 Combat Experience gained.]

‘So this is an elite classed individual!’

Anser was deeply shaken. Only in person could anyone appreciate such seamless, artful combat. Cold numerical levels could never convey that suffocating pressure.

‘Then again, I’m pretty good too!’

The Kuo-toa Archpriest hit the ground. Rand caught up in a few strides, pulled out his longsword, and hacked off the fish head with several blows before finally stopping.

With the Archpriest’s death, the noisy battlefield suddenly became much quieter. Then every fish-man abandoned its opponent and fled in panic, jumping into the water and disappearing within moments.

Only several dozen goblinoids and duergar remained, staring in despair at the hundreds of humans closing in around them.

The Paralyzed Kuo-toa Monitor was also carried into the River Chionthar by its giant crab, escaping the spell’s control.

“It’s over!” Anser sighed and hurried toward Zahir.

The result was not perfect, but at least they had won.

Many people had already gathered ahead. When they saw Anser and Rand approaching, they moved aside.

The Flaming Fist Barbarian and Zahir remained motionless. Purple-black marks of corruption covered their skin and gave off a foul odor, making them difficult to look at.

Many Flaming Fist soldiers surrounded the Barbarian. His breathing was steady, so he could probably be saved.

Zahir’s chest no longer moved. Two chunks of flesh were missing from his jaw, left by Bratt’s fingers when he forced potion into the man’s mouth.

Bratt now held a Potion of Healing upside down, covering its mouth with his thumb and sprinkling the liquid carefully over Zahir’s skin. It produced no improvement.

Zahir was dead. Life-preserving magic and healing potions worked only on the living.

An elderly cleric with graying hair and beard knelt beside Zahir. His chest bore the image of a road traveling into a sunrise, clearly marking him as a cleric of Lathander.

He rested one hand on Zahir’s chest and gripped his holy symbol with the other. Divine magic carrying the power of blessing surrounded them both.

As he chanted, divine power descended, only to quietly disintegrate midway without producing any effect.

“Morninglord, why? Why?!”

The old cleric collapsed instantly. He curled inward with his holy symbol clasped in both hands, tears running down his aged face. He looked like a child who had done something wrong—helpless and alone.

‘That was the 3rd-level divine spell Revivify.’ Anser understood the incantation and could feel the old cleric’s despair.

He grieved not only for the paladin’s death, but also for his lord’s abandonment.

Rand refused to give up. He crouched nearby and fed the power of Lay on Hands into Zahir’s body a little at a time, but the flow soon stopped.

His pool of healing energy was empty.

Anser turned away, his chest painfully tight.

“Priest Moody, you still have one 3rd-level spell slot, don’t you? You have one more chance!” Rand seized the old cleric’s hand, his eyes bloodshot.

The old cleric looked at him. Words reached his lips, only to be swallowed again. He could merely nod heavily. Only he knew that since the Weave’s disruption, he had not successfully cast a single 3rd-level divine spell.

He calmed himself slightly, gripped his holy symbol, and prepared to cast again.

Anser’s heart stirred. He moved closer and knelt pressed against the old cleric. “I’ll help stabilize the mana.”

He closed his eyes. Faint light appeared on his soft scales as the chaotic mana settled, becoming docile and obedient. Gentle spirals of mana formed and circled around them.

The Weave was fundamentally mana, merely woven and harnessed in a particular way to control raw magical energy. The damaged Weave could no longer bind that raw mana, while the raw mana in turn made the Weave even more difficult to sense and draw upon.

Anser did not know whether this would help, but they had to try.

Feeling the mana around him stabilize, a spark of hope returned to the old cleric’s heart.

He held his holy symbol and sensed and guided the divine magic with far greater concentration than usual. It remained difficult, but the process was much smoother than before.

Several seconds later, the songlike chant quietly resonated with divine magic. Gathered holy light descended from the void like the gaze of a god and enveloped Zahir completely.

Everyone’s breathing slowed. Not one person blinked as they stared at the scene.

At last, an almost inaudible exhalation sounded. Zahir’s chest began to rise and fall gently, the movement growing stronger.

“He’s alive! He’s alive!”

“I have half a bottle of Potion of Greater Healing...”

“...”

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

1. Innate Sorcery

Something in your past left an indelible mark on you, infusing you with uncontrollable, surging magic. You can unleash that magic for one minute. During that minute, you gain the following benefits:

The saving throw DC of your Sorcerer spells increases by 1.

You have Advantage on attack rolls for Sorcerer spells you cast.

You can use this feature twice and regain all expended uses when you finish a Long Rest.

(End of Chapter)