The wizard tower had no basement. The ground was too hard to excavate, so its storeroom occupied the first floor, making supplies easier to move.

Anser had lived here for five years and knew the place like the back of his hand. He squeezed through the broken door and found that the room had already been looted. The looters had worked roughly, scattering its contents everywhere.

'Fuck. Those duergar definitely did this.'

He cursed inwardly, but lost no time gathering useful supplies.

Candles, a shovel, soap, waterskins, ink, a stack of blank paper, clothes, a spyglass... Nothing was valuable, but all of it would be useful to someone about to flee.

He filled a large bundle and casually tossed it into the hall.

But he could not find the rope he needed most.

He had no choice but to steel himself and head upstairs, searching the dormitories, kitchen, alchemy room, meditation chamber...

Most rooms had been torn apart in the search, but not searched carefully. Because Anser knew the tower so well, he still found quite a few useful things.

There were several coin pouches, two spellbooks, some food, and a coil of rope. The most valuable find was the spare staff in Fabian's room.

'The duergar didn't recognize its value. Or maybe those brainless goblin and orc slaves searched this room. Too bad I couldn't find Fabian's secret strongbox.'

The staff was six feet long, nearly as tall as Anser when planted on the floor. It looked like an ordinary gray-green stick, its surface marked by faint, unremarkable patterns.

He did not know Identify and could not immediately learn its properties or method of use, but he could still use it as a conventional arcane focus.

Master Fabian had once promised to award this staff to his best-performing apprentice. One empty promise had whipped a group of wage slaves into a frenzy—and they even paid for the privilege of working there.

What a joke!

The wizard tower had dozens of apprentices. Most possessed little potential. Some lacked self-awareness, some harbored ulterior motives, but most simply refused to give up.

To curry favor with Fabian and compete for limited resources, the apprentices fought among themselves without end. They constantly schemed against one another over positions such as teaching assistant or purchaser, never realizing these were all little tricks Fabian used to manipulate them.

Anser suddenly thought of Gass, the first assistant who had betrayed the body's original owner. If their paths crossed, Anser would not mind killing him and "rightfully inheriting" Fabian's possessions.

He shook his head and cast aside the tangled thoughts. After changing into fresh clothes and boots from his old room, he packed the valuables into a black leather backpack and strapped it and the staff to his back.

He tied the remaining items into a bundle and hid it in a corner outside the wizard tower, planning to return for it later.

Carrying the rope, he approached the crater's edge and peered down. It was pitch-black below, and he could see nothing.

With no other option, he pulled the glowing stick from the side of his backpack, uncovered one corner of the black cloth, and waved it before immediately wrapping it again.

"I'm here! I'm still here!"

Bratt's voice rose from below, his delight impossible to hide.

Anser held the rope and surveyed the area, quickly realizing that the ground directly above the pillar was a poor position.

After Brampton and Eastway collapsed, the River Chionthar burst its banks. The mighty river poured into the crater from the southwest, forming waterfalls of every size. Even after flowing for an entire day, the current had weakened only slightly.

Bratt had landed in a bad spot. Climbing straight up would put him directly against the falling water and make the ascent much harder.

Anser avoided that section, moved laterally a little over ten meters, and secured the rope to the broken stump of a thick tree.

"Watch for the rope!"

With that, he threw it down toward Bratt as hard as he could.

Several seconds later, the rope pulled taut, and Bratt called up from below.

"I've got it! Don't pull. I'll climb up myself."

"All right." Anser understood Bratt's concern: hauling on the rope might make it rub against the rock and snap.

Anser placed the torn blanket he had prepared beneath the point where the rope hung over the edge, preventing the stone from fraying the hemp.

Several minutes later, Bratt appeared in Anser's field of view.

He had fashioned a safety harness from his belt, buckles, and rope. The knot around his waist looked highly professional and tightened quickly after every upward movement. His pace was slow but safe, and he could hang halfway against the cliff to catch his breath whenever he tired.

For the final few meters, Anser did not step forward to help. Instead, he backed away and watched Bratt climb over the edge, roll onto the ground, and collapse there, panting heavily.

"Thank you. So... tired..." Bratt pushed the tangled hair from his face, revealing lean features, pale lips, and a striking pair of emerald-green eyes.

He had not been as fortunate as Anser. After the current shifted, water had battered him for a long time, sapping his strength and leaving him exhausted and hungry.

"That was professional. An adventurer?" Anser looked him up and down.

"Used to be. Until last night, I was captain of the guard at Harborside Hospital. I'm a fighter." As he spoke, Bratt struggled to his feet, released the clasp, and carefully coiled the rope.

"Then you were pretty lucky," Anser remarked.

Harborside Hospital had stood near the wizard tower and had vanished from the surface. In a disaster of this scale, there was little difference between a classed individual and an ordinary person. Surviving definitely required a streak of damn good luck.

"Meeting you was the real stroke of luck. I owe you my life." Bratt looked sincere, though his gaze involuntarily focused on Anser's face.

Tiny dragon scales shimmered there with an extremely faint metallic sheen beneath the moonlight, noticeable only from close range.

"Let's talk over here." Once Bratt had recovered a little strength, Anser led him to the bundle hidden outside the wizard tower.

The spot was more concealed, reducing the chance that a passerby or subterranean creature would see them.

Bratt trudged along with his longsword in hand. The moment he saw the large bundle in the corner, his eyes lit up. "Is there food?"

"Some. Not much."

Anser pulled out a cloth sack, took from it a loaf of dark bread roughly eight inches long and more than four inches wide and thick, and tossed it to Bratt. Then he took out another for himself.

"Brown-sugar walnut bread. Good stuff." Bratt did not stand on ceremony and immediately began gnawing on it.

Brown-sugar walnut bread, also called Amnian darkbread, came in many varieties and was standard fare at the wizard tower. To the poor, however, it was a delicacy they could enjoy only occasionally.

In that respect, Fabian had at least possessed some conscience.

Anser was hungry as well, though he had not noticed it before. The moment the soft, rich, sweet bread entered his mouth, hunger surged over him like a tide.

He took out a waterskin and casually tossed another to Bratt.

The two sat facing each other in the corner. Neither spoke; they simply ate.

Anser did not relax, however. He kept listening for movement outside.

Bratt did the same. Whenever he heard anything, he stopped chewing. His longsword remained within reach, and he was far more vigilant than Anser.

His gaze occasionally swept over Anser's clothes and staff. His expression suggested he had begun to understand.

After washing down his final bite of bread, he hung the waterskin from his belt and asked quietly, "Are you a wizard from this tower?"

"Something like that. My name is Anser." Anser did not explain further. "It's dangerous here. What do you think we should do?"

"We can't stay long. The north and northeast are full of subterranean creatures, the River Chionthar lies south, and Dusthawk Hill is east. Our best option is probably to shelter on the hill..." Bratt said thoughtfully.

His plan was simply to hide. The Parliament of Peers would not stand idle. Once the Flaming Fist and the Watch intervened, this invasion force, composed mainly of duergar, would soon be driven back underground.

Even if Baldur's Gate's leaders could not handle it, they could request aid from the Lords' Alliance. Silverymoon, Neverwinter, Waterdeep... every one of those cities possessed considerable strength.

"Something has happened to the Weave," Anser said gravely.

That was the true disaster!

"What?" Bratt's eyes widened in shock. Then a thought seemed to strike him. "Then... how can you still cast spells?"

"The Weave hasn't collapsed completely," Anser explained. "My draconic bloodline awakened by chance, and I switched to mana casting."

Bratt lowered his head, his eyes shifting uncertainly. Only after a long silence did he say, "Then you really are a genius."

Clearly, switching from spell-slot casting to mana casting was no easy task for classed individuals accustomed to the former.

"Maybe." Anser did not know how much his class panel distinguished him from other classed individuals, so he answered vaguely.

Fighter Features:

Level 1: Fighting Style

You continually hone your martial prowess. You gain one Fighting Style feat of your choice. Defense is recommended.

Whenever you gain a Fighter level, you may replace it with another Fighting Style feat.

Level 1: Second Wind

You can draw on limited reserves of stamina and willpower to rally yourself. As a Bonus Action, you can use this feature to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your Fighter level.

You can use this feature twice. You regain one expended use after completing a Short Rest and all expended uses after completing a Long Rest.

When you reach certain Fighter levels, you gain additional uses of this feature, as shown in the Second Wind column of the Fighter Features table.

Level 1: Weapon Mastery

Your training with weapons allows you to use the Mastery properties of three Simple or Martial weapons of your choice. Whenever you finish a Long Rest, you may practice your weapon techniques and change one of your chosen weapon types.

At certain Fighter levels, you can use the Mastery properties of additional weapon types.

Level 2: Action Surge

For a brief moment, you can push yourself beyond the normal limits of a mortal body. On your turn, you can take one additional action, except the Magic action.

Level 2: Tactical Mind

You can bring tactical insight to situations on and off the battlefield. When you fail an ability check, you can expend one use of Second Wind to bring yourself closer to success.

(End of Chapter)