"Boss, what do we do now?" The dark, skinny gnome flicked the blood off his hands and turned to look at the man in black robes.
"Wait. He'll definitely come back," the black-robed man said in a cold voice, his gaze dim and unfathomable.
There weren't many spells capable of ultra-long-distance teleportation. The most common was the 5th-level Teleportation Circle, but there were no traces of a circle on the ground, meaning it wasn't that.
All the others were 7th-level or above—Teleport, Plane Shift, and the 9th-level Gate.
With the Weave currently in turmoil, he didn't believe anyone could so quickly master such high-level, extremely difficult teleportation spells. Therefore, he concluded the target must have left using some kind of teleportation item—or entered another plane.
Either way, the likelihood of returning to the original location was very high.
The tiefling hesitated. "Halflings are very tight-knit. If they notice the tavern isn't open, they might already suspect something's wrong. They could break in at any moment. That could get messy."
"Then use debt collection as an excuse to keep them out. Anyone who wants to meddle can pool their money and ransom him. Set it at… two hundred thousand gold," the black-robed man said calmly.
They just needed a pretext. As long as the magistrate didn't interfere, none of this was a problem.
"Leave it to me." The orc bared his teeth, his tusks glinting coldly.
The dark, skinny gnome stood up, revealing an ugly grin. "Then I'll go wait in his room."
The black-robed man nodded silently, his gaze flickering.
...
Holrewen Tower, top floor.
Anser had already finished meditating. After clarifying his situation with the treant and Salian, he returned to the top floor once more.
If necessary, he would need their help to fight. One more ally meant one more chance at victory.
'It's been a few hours… I wonder how things are outside.'
He decided to take a look.
He had already attuned to the Robe of Stars. Now he could use it to teleport to the Astral Plane—another life-saving option.
It also carried six charges of 5th-level Magic Missile, each casting releasing seven dazzling missiles. Its firepower was immense, though it couldn't benefit from metamagic, and its casting speed was average.
He began organizing his gear. The Alchemist's Potion Belt held a Potion of Healing and a Potion of Greater Healing, while a Potion of Invulnerability sat within reach.
In his left hand was Euryale's Aegis; in his right, the Dragon Gold Slashing Swords. Elemental orbs circled around him, dancing in the air.
Maeve sat atop the Book of Castella, floating beside him. With a flick of her paw, a translucent Mage Armor settled onto his body, granting +3 to his Armor Class.
Anser raised a hand and cast Shield of Faith on himself, adding another +2. Including his shield, his Armor Class reached 29—absurdly durable.
His gaze fell on the shield in his hand, and his heart skipped a beat.
'Could its original owner have tracked it down?'
After a careful inspection, nothing seemed out of place. He let out a quiet breath of relief and didn't put the shield away. He couldn't abandon a legendary item over a baseless suspicion.
'Prepare for battle.'
"Meow."
In the next instant, he tapped himself, layers of spell effects overlaying his body—True Strike, False Life, Longstrider, Jump, Fire Shield, Divine Favor, Detect Evil and Good.
Then he downed the viscous Potion of Invulnerability, pushing his damage resistance to the limit.
He had considered drinking a Potion of Invisibility, but attacking or casting would break it—and teleportation counted—so he chose not to waste it.
"Mirror Image."
Three identical illusory duplicates appeared beside him. They exchanged glances—each expression slightly different—before vanishing simultaneously from the tower's top floor.
Light twisted.
Anser's vision blurred—
—and he appeared in a messy, cramped room. By the broken wooden door stood a thin, dark figure casually tossing a dagger.
He didn't hesitate.
He immediately ordered the duplicates to rush out with him. Killing was secondary—escaping came first.
The space was too tight for proper spellcasting.
"Boss—!"
The skinny gnome hadn't expected the enemy to react faster than him. He roared in anger and charged at one of the illusions.
But silver mist flashed across the illusion's body—it teleported into the corridor. Another flash—
—and it vanished from sight.
Not just one.
All four.
'A sword-and-shield caster?'
He froze for a moment, then hurried after them.
Anser used Misty Step twice in quick succession, already reaching the tavern. With a single glance, he took in the entire situation.
A black-robed spellcaster. An orc melee fighter. A tiefling ranger. And behind them, a deep gnome rogue.
The orc blocked the exit.
If he wanted to leave, he'd have to use Dimension Door without precise targeting—but he wanted to try something first.
He raised his shield.
The Medusa relief of Euryale suddenly opened its eyes, releasing a brilliant light that struck the black-robed caster directly.
The other illusions mimicked the action—but their effects were fake.
The black-robed caster looked up, a cold smile curling across his pale lips, completely composed.
The petrifying light struck him—
He paused slightly, seemingly unaffected.
With a flick of his fingers, four explosive energy rays shot out instantly, targeting Anser and all four illusions.
[You cast petrification magic on a peak warlock. The warlock succeeded on the saving throw.]
'A warlock above level 17!'
Anser ducked behind his shield, locking his mind onto the black-robed man. Like adjusting the hands of a clock, he rewound the flow of time around him to the greatest extent possible.
Time twisted.
For a split second, the black-robed man's eyes went blank beneath his hood. His movements reversed—
And when he regained awareness, he saw the petrifying light strike him "again."
'What—?!'
His body stiffened.
He collapsed back into his chair, limbs rigid, unable to cast.
[You cast petrification magic and Chronal Shift on a peak warlock. The warlock failed the saving throw and is restrained.]
At the same time, one of the explosive rays slammed into Anser's shield and detonated, blasting him backward. Layer after layer of defenses—including Shield—shattered instantly.
His limbs went numb. He barely managed to hold onto the shield as he rolled to his feet, his chest feeling like it had been struck by a hammer, tight and suffocating.
[You were hit by Arcane Blast from a peak warlock. You take 11 force damage. Current HP: 103/103. Temporary HP: 1/12.]
His three illusions fared worse—shattered on the spot, dissolving into light.
'Probably Repelling Blast and Agonizing Blast… good thing my defenses are stacked.'
With the illusions gone, the orc and the deep gnome charged him at once. The tiefling drew his bow, preparing to fire at close range.
The tavern was small.
The enemies were terrifyingly fast.
Anser didn't even have time for a standard casting.
'All high-level combatants.'
In a split second, he didn't have time to think. Acting on instinct, he cast his strongest control spell.
"વ્યક્તિગત"
Innate Casting + Metamagic: Quickened, Heightened + 5th-level Hold Person!
The elemental orbs flashed with rainbow light as four invisible waves struck the enemies instantly.
The orc, tiefling, and deep gnome stiffened and collapsed.
But the black-robed man remained unaffected.
He had passed the second saving throw against petrification—completely breaking free.
He looked at Anser—
—and pinched a tarot card between his fingers.
A bad feeling surged in Anser's chest.
Suppressing the urge to escape with Dimension Door, he focused again and cast.
"ફાયરબોલકલા"
Metamagic: Quickened, Empowered, Careful + 5th-level Fireball (Cold)!
A bright flash formed at his fingertips—
—and detonated instantly.
Freezing cold swept through the tavern. White mist spread. Frost solidified. It was as if the space had been dragged into a polar wasteland.
Too fast.
Aside from Anser and the two halflings, everyone was instantly encased in ice.
"ફાયર..."
The rapid dragon-tongue incantation rang out again.
A second flash.
A third.
Each formed and exploded instantly.
Extreme cold ravaged the cramped "ice chamber," sealing everything within layers upon layers of ice.
[Target killed. You gain 2450 XP.]
[Target killed. You gain 2080 XP.]
[You cast an empowered Fireball-Cold on a high-level barbarian. The target is hit and takes 48 cold damage. Current HP: 39/172.]
'One's missing.'
Anser tore the ice clinging to his face and looked around.
The corner was empty.
The black-robed man was gone.
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