"What do we do now?" Bratt asked, taking the initiative. Since this concerned the Weave, he instinctively assumed a learned wizard would know more.

"Your plan is sound. Most subterranean creatures dislike light, so we'll hide on Dusthawk Hill tonight. But we can't remain in Baldur's Gate for long.

"The Underdark is barren and brutal. Now that the duergar have reached the surface, they won't leave easily. The Watch won't abandon the Upper City, and the Flaming Fist may not be reliable. We need to escape. Waiting passively could make things worse.

"Tomorrow, we'll head to Wyrm's Crossing. There's a Flaming Fist fortress there, and we'll be safe once we cross the River Chionthar," Anser said after thinking it through.

"We'll do as you say." Bratt nodded slightly. Leaving was indeed safer.

Wyrm's Crossing lay southeast of Dusthawk Hill. To reach it, the subterranean creatures would have to circle most of the way around the hill from the north and pass through several Outer City districts. They could not possibly arrive that quickly.

"But..." Anser's tone shifted, and his expression grew complicated. "Before that, I need to rescue my parents. They live in Sow's Foot. You don't have to come. We can part ways first thing tomorrow."

He did not feel much affection for the original owner's parents. The incomplete memories were like projected slides, making it difficult for him to inherit their emotions.

But if an opportunity arose, he still wanted to try saving them. If he ignored them completely, the guilt would keep gnawing at him.

If danger arose, however, he would certainly protect himself first.

"I'll go with you," Bratt replied without hesitation. "Sow's Foot isn't far from Wyrm's Crossing. They should be fine."

"I hope so. How well have you recovered?" Urgency tightened in Anser's chest. The darker it became, the worse their situation would be.

"No problem. I can fight and run. Don't underestimate a fighter's recovery." Bratt tied back his hair with a strip of rag, making him look brisk and capable.

"Let's go." Anser rose, grabbed his staff, and headed outside.

Bratt shouldered the bundle without being asked, secured it, then passed Anser in a few strides and took the lead with his sword in hand.

Night descended, and cold moonlight turned the River Chionthar into a glittering ribbon. Unfortunately, ruined walls and buildings surrounded it, with corpses strewn everywhere. The scene resembled hell.

"Don't take Cliffgate. Follow the River Chionthar into Tumbledown," Anser whispered after they had hurried several dozen paces.

Bratt understood and immediately turned south.

Duergar were intelligent. They would probably seize key intersections and wait for humans to deliver themselves.

Refugees usually carried valuables and food, sparing the duergar even the trouble of searching and packing their spoils.

After several hundred meters, the buildings grew sparse, leaving little cover. A section of city wall that had mostly collapsed stretched across their path.

When they reached its largest breach, Bratt suddenly stopped. His nose twitched as he scanned the sticky layer of soil coating the stones, vigilance filling his eyes.

Anser sensed that something was wrong as well. "Find another way through."

Bratt nodded and edged backward with his sword raised. After withdrawing a little over ten meters, he continued south along the wall.

Several curses drifted from the darkness, and both men quickened their steps. Escaping mattered most; they could not afford to become entangled with those people.

Natural disasters inevitably brought human calamities. What could be more vicious than people?

After that encounter, Bratt deliberately chose a half-collapsed section of wall. Rubble lay everywhere, uneven and difficult to cross, but it was safer.

Bratt truly lived up to being a fighter. His athletic ability far surpassed Anser's. He scouted ahead with a large bundle on his back, climbing and leaping while frequently stopping to watch for danger—and to wait for Anser to catch up.

Anser silently mocked himself. He had to admit that Bratt's sorry state when they first met had deceived him.

In a game, even someone with poor attributes could acquire a class. Reality was different. Without some talent, it simply was not possible. Nobles and major organizations would never waste valuable resources on dead weight.

Unless that person was extraordinarily lucky!

"Watch out!" Bratt shouted urgently.

Anser instinctively dove and rolled.

The next instant, a dark shape swept over his head, moving too quickly to see clearly. A faint scent of blood spread through the air.

[You are attacked by a stirge. Miss...]

Anser's heart jumped. Stirges lived in swarms!

He tightened his grip on the staff and scanned the area, but saw no swarm. Only the faint flutter of wings came from somewhere overhead.

"What the hell was that?" Bratt had also been attacked, but his awareness and reactions were faster.

He dropped the bundle, jumped to Anser's side in a few strides, and stood back-to-back with him on guard.

"Stirges. Blood-drinking creatures that live in swarms." Anser drew the stick enchanted with Light from his clothes but did not remove the black cloth.

Bratt watched the sky for a moment and found no other danger. "Looks like there are only two."

"Maybe they got separated from the swarm. Or maybe they're drunk on blood," Anser speculated.

Stirges fed on the blood of living creatures and possessed little intelligence. After reaching the surface and discovering how easy humans were to prey upon, it was hardly surprising that they were running wild.

"They haven't left."

"We'll keep moving. Watch for your chance."

"All right."

The two advanced at a measured pace. Bratt followed behind Anser with the bundle, waiting for the promised "chance."

Anser remained calm. Stirges were weak, and their attacks were not immediately lethal. He also knew Shield and could raise a force barrier the instant an attack struck him.

Just as the two were about to enter Dusthawk Hill, the stirges' hunger won out. They dived almost simultaneously.

Bratt stopped mid-step. "Here they come—"

Before he finished speaking, Anser yanked away the black cloth. Light instantly dispelled the darkness, revealing two strange creatures that resembled hybrids of oversized bats and mosquitoes.

Stirges feared light. The sudden brightness frightened them, forcing them to alter their flight and try to flee.

"Slash—"

Sword light flashed. One stirge split in two, spraying a trail of blood.

"" (Ray of Frost)

A beam of white light shot from Anser's palm and struck the other stirge in an instant.

The creature stiffened as white vapor spread across its body. It dropped to the ground with a smack, its membranous wings twitching twice before going still.

[You cast Ray of Frost on the stirge. The enemy is Frightened. The stirge is hit and takes 4 Cold damage. Fatal Blow. Target killed. You gain 25 Combat Experience...]

Still not reassured, Bratt stepped forward and pinned it to the ground with his sword.

"Ugly." Only then did he see the stirge clearly.

It resembled a bat but had a long, needle-like proboscis. Its body was crimson, with black down across its head and back, numerous claws, and a long tail.

Anser wrapped the glowing stick again and tucked it inside his clothes.

"Let's go, quickly." He lifted his staff and set off as he spoke.

Light was useful in battle, but it could also attract danger.

"Ah..." Bratt glanced at the stirge corpses on the ground, sighed, picked up the bundle, and followed.

"In my adventuring experience, stirges must be excellent magical materials. It's a shame to leave them."

"Staying alive comes first." That surprised Anser. He had not expected the cautious Bratt to be so greedy. Was that a common failing among adventurers?

"You don't understand. Without money, you can't get anywhere." Bratt's heart ached whenever he remembered that his entire fortune had vanished.

"We'll find a way tomorrow."

"Well... I hope we don't run into the Flaming Fist. They never listen to explanations..."

Beyond the collapsed wall lay Dusthawk Hill, with the Outer City district of Tumbledown at its foot. The two saw neither people nor lights along the way.

A full day had passed since the disaster. Everyone capable of fleeing had already done so.

Anser did not venture deeper into the district. Instead, he followed the River Chionthar east until they finally spotted some refugees at Cliffside Cemetery.

The two did not stop. They continued into Dusthawk Hill, crossed a ridge, and found a concealed hollow high on the slope.

A small stand of trees and the surrounding terrain were enough to block them from other creatures' sight.

Using his staff as a walking stick, Anser checked the grass for venomous snakes. Then he dropped his backpack, sat heavily on the ground, and let out a long breath.

"We should be safe now."

Bratt placed the bundle beside him and cleared the area with his longsword, cutting branches to construct several simple alarm devices.

Anser possessed Survival proficiency and knew some wilderness skills as well, but he did not move.

At that moment, he felt only hungry, exhausted, and mentally drained. Casting cantrips was not without cost.

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(End of Chapter)