The Wight scrambled awkwardly to its feet, growled, raised its longsword high, and charged with great strides.

There was no fear in its eyes, only cold killing intent.

Nornoth neighed and veered at a shallow angle without slowing. As they passed, blazing dragonfire swept across the Wight.

The Wight had prepared itself, but the breath came too quickly and covered too wide an area to evade. Flames curled its leather armor, its flesh hissed and smoked, and a foul stench spread through the air.

The superficial wounds were nowhere near fatal, yet they drove the Wight to mounting frustration. It could neither catch Anser nor escape him.

It grew more irritable, raging helplessly.

While Dragon's Breath remained active, Anser patted Nornoth and began another charge.

This time, the Wight had learned its lesson and rolled aside in advance.

Anser had anticipated that. He deliberately delayed the breath until after it dodged, then turned his head and sprayed it again, giving the creature another complimentary cremation.

I predicted your prediction!

The Wight rolled across the ground to extinguish the flames. Its flesh was charred, its limbs spasmed, and it struggled to put any strength behind its movements.

It glanced back at Anser, sprinted several steps, and leaped into the lake, disappearing beneath the surface.

Only after a long while did its head emerge far out in the lake. It dog-paddled awkwardly toward the center.

"Uh... You even learned to dive. That was quick."

Anser watched the three figures swimming desperately at varying distances and felt rather helpless.

Water was a natural barrier. By ducking beneath the surface whenever an attack came, they could render weaker spells largely ineffective.

That advantage came at a price. Moving through water consumed enormous stamina, while both exerting force and casting spells became difficult. Without specialized training, most people lost more than half their combat ability the moment they entered the water.

The Wight had limitless stamina, but would its decayed body not rot after soaking in water?

'Cut them off.' Anser patted Nornoth's back.

Nornoth broke into a gallop, far faster than anyone could swim. Before the Amnians attempting to escape amid the chaos could reach shore, Anser was already there.

The two were in poor condition. Both were bare-chested and covered in wounds, their skin pale and swollen from the water. They probably could not last much longer.

Anser did not approach. He simply watched from the lakeshore, his indifferent gaze enough to keep them from coming ashore.

They could still evade attacks in the water, but beyond the shore lay open wilderness. Even growing two more legs would not let them outrun a horse.

Besides, they had witnessed the entire battle from the lake. This Sorcerer was powerful, his steed extraordinary, and his fighting and spellcasting techniques polished. In their current condition, they had no hope of victory.

After a short standoff, the middle-aged man shouted, "Sir, if you let us go, I'll give you everything I own. Consider this the deposit."

He raised one hand from the water and hurled a small object onto the shore.

Nornoth trotted over. In the light from Anser's staff, a silver cup lay in the grass. It was shaped like an hourglass and glimmered with white radiance.

"This is a Guardian Chalice, a Rare sacred item. Surely I don't need to explain its value?" The middle-aged man watched the glowing holy symbol on Anser's chest, his heart uneasy.

"The same goes for me." The black dragonborn pointed toward Cloakwood. "Our camp is at the edge of the forest. I can take you there."

Anser did not pick up the chalice. Instead, he acted utterly unconcerned and pointed toward the Wight in the lake.

"Go kill it. This is your only chance. I don't compromise easily, so make the most of it."

He deliberately touched the burning holy symbol on his chest.

"You're plainly sending us to die," the black dragonborn said through clenched teeth.

"You have the right to choose." Anser was in no hurry. He could wait until dawn.

The gray eagle had issued no warning, which meant the main horde showed no sign of returning. Everything remained under control.

"We'll do it! I hope you keep your word." The middle-aged captain did not trust Anser, but he trusted the holy symbol.

Followers of Tyr, the God of Justice, were known for high moral standards. To them, destroying Undead was indeed more important than killing two slavers.

"Captain?" The black dragonborn looked astonished.

"Follow my lead. Move." The middle-aged captain turned and swam toward the Wight.

The black dragonborn hesitated before following.

In the center of the lake, the Wight's charred face twisted with cruelty. It understood Common, but it was not afraid.

Undead did not need to breathe and never became exhausted, giving them an innate advantage in underwater combat.

It also needed two new Zombies to escape its predicament, and two classed individuals were ideal material.

The two sides rapidly closed. The Amnian captain attacked first, thrusting with his sword. His movements were slow in the water, and the Wight easily deflected the strike.

A chaotic melee began. The violently churning surface showed how fierce the battle had become, and blood tinged every burst of spray.

Anser sat on Nornoth and watched in silence.

'Am I being too cruel?'

He clearly remembered that he had not been like this before.

Yet he truly did not want to wait until dawn. Too much could change, and this was the best solution he could devise.

'People have to learn to adapt. It's not as though I'm deliberately torturing them to death.'

He shook his head and cast aside the jumbled thoughts. The battle in the lake was about to be decided.

The Wight was indeed powerful and still in reasonable condition, but it was not intelligent enough.

Once the black dragonborn entered melee range, he took a sword strike and locked both arms around the Wight's sword arm. He wrapped his legs around its waist and held on no matter how fiercely it struggled.

The Wight was formidable, but its ability scores were balanced. Strength was not its specialty.

The middle-aged captain seized the opportunity. He drove his longsword into the Wight's mouth, forced the blade up through its skull, and twisted hard. The Wight finally stopped moving.

[Target killed. Gained 101 Combat Experience.]

'Not bad.' Anser's brows rose, amusement brightening his eyes.

The two Amnians dragged the Wight to the lakeshore and climbed out with considerable effort. They discarded their weapons, sprawled on the ground, and panted heavily.

Their defenseless posture did not indicate trust. They simply had no other option. Since they could not escape, they might as well appear open and cooperative.

"I threw my belongings and breastplate into the lake. Enter from the northern shore, and you should find them," the captain said between breaths.

Anser did not approach. "Where are you from, and what are you doing here?"

"Alaron. We came to conduct some small business..." the black dragonborn replied with his eyes closed.

A ringing Draconic incantation cut him off. Three glowing darts flashed through the air and struck the black dragonborn's chest in succession.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The black dragonborn's mouth hung half-open as blood poured out. His head slumped sideways, his empty eyes staring at the captain beside him.

[...Target killed. Gained 23 Combat Experience.]

"You broke your word! You promised—" The middle-aged captain rolled onto his stomach in alarm. His expression was terrified, and his voice bordered on hysteria.

"Amnian, what exactly did I promise you? I never made any promise from beginning to end. You imagined one for yourself." Anser touched the holy symbol on his chest. It was burning hot.

Only a complete fool would release them. They might already have transferred their hatred of the Undead to him.

The captain froze. "You knew? You've been deceiving us all along. House Nashivaar won't let you escape..."

His answer was a red sphere of energy trailing a short tail.

With a boom, the man was hurled backward. His skin was blackened and twisted beyond recognition.

[...Target killed. Gained 61 Combat Experience.]

"I gave you a chance, but I knew you couldn't take it," Anser said calmly.

He looked toward Cloakwood, a dark mass in the distance. It seemed the enemy had accomplices there. The name "Nashivaar" sounded somewhat familiar.

D&D 5R, the Revised Fifth Edition, retains the classic nine-alignment framework. Compared with earlier versions such as 3R, however, alignment has far less mechanical influence, and characters have greater flexibility in their behavior.

Alignment changes are not determined by a single event but reflect a long-term pattern of conduct.

Motivation takes precedence over outcome.

Thank you to all my dear readers for your support and suggestions!

(End of Chapter)