"Nothing will go wrong this time... right?" Iris shot him a sidelong glance and took out a Traveler's Badge of her own.
"Proba—probably not." Anser thought of those Chosen and hastily corrected himself.
If even a ridiculously lucky Warlock could possess an Artifact, who could guarantee those Chosen didn't have one as well?
"I'm not a Chosen, so I'm relatively safe," he added.
"You weren't one before, either." Iris raised her wand and pointed it at him from a distance. "How long will this take?"
"At most eight hours." Anser considered for a moment. "If the Flamerule Mercenary Company arrives, just have them wait for a while."
According to their agreement, the Flamerule Mercenary Company should have already finished all their assignments and packed up their belongings. Today was the day they were supposed to report to White Stone Island.
"Don't worry." Iris gently shook the maple-leaf badge in her hand. "Come back early. If you're gone for more than a day, I'll come looking for you."
Anser said nothing. He merely nodded, gripped the Traveler's Badge tightly, and began reciting its lengthy command phrase.
A faint radiance blossomed from the badge. The fluctuations of magic power grew stronger and stronger, reaching their peak one minute later.
A flash of magical light swept over him.
Anser felt the world spin around him. All five senses vanished, and time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Perhaps it was only an instant.
Perhaps several minutes passed.
Then he felt his body lighten, and his senses returned.
Opening his eyes, he found himself facing a boundless silver void. Up and down had no meaning here. Countless faintly glowing stars were scattered throughout the expanse, while swirling bands of white and gray mist and light drifted in the distance.
Even though this was already his second time witnessing the vastness of the Astral Plane, Anser was still deeply awed. His mind went blank, and every worry suddenly felt insignificant.
He took a deep breath.
His lungs filled with sweet, energy-rich substance, and his body felt noticeably more vigorous.
Turning around to face the entrance, he took out the five kilograms of gold he had prepared beforehand and placed it on the ground. He watched as the strange bird carved into the relief swallowed it whole.
Unfortunately, the bird's eyes remained vacant. It paid him no attention at all, leaving him somewhat disappointed.
He pulled open the door.
A chaotic wave of voices immediately flooded his ears.
The spacious hall was even livelier than before. Most of the booths were occupied, and compared to his previous visit, many people had gathered into groups, seemingly far more eager to chat.
'I smell gossip.'
The corners of Anser's mouth curled upward as he stepped into the hall.
He strolled across the room, casually scanning his surroundings, but he didn't spot Delira—the scantily dressed drow with the explosive figure he'd met last time.
For some reason, he felt a little disappointed.
After being tricked by that Warlock during his last visit, he had even suspected Delira might have been involved.
The bar was unattended.
However, the moment he sat down, a creature resembling a giant eyeball silently floated out from behind the counter. One enormous eye and ten smaller eyes growing from the ends of its stalks all turned toward him simultaneously.
'A Beholder?' Anser froze, thoroughly surprised.
Beholders were Large aberrations, also known as Eye Tyrants, and among the most infamous native creatures of the Underdark.
They were extremely powerful beings with a base Challenge Rating of 13. Each eye could unleash a different magical ray—death, disintegration, petrification, energy drain, fear, and more—each devastating in its own way.
Yet Beholders possessed utterly alien minds. Most were paranoid, narcissistic, and arrogant. Their logic often operated far beyond the bounds of human reason.
As a result, almost no Beholder could coexist peacefully with surface-dwellers.
They were exceedingly rare.
The Beholder looked Anser up and down. Its grotesque mouth opened and closed as it spoke in flawless Draconic.
"What would the guest like to order?"
"You actually have a Beholder working for Traveler's Respite?" Anser asked curiously when he noticed the creature's surprisingly calm demeanor. "If you don't mind me asking, how much do they pay you?"
"That's a stereotype, you know. What's wrong with Beholders?" The Beholder stared at Anser, amusement shining in its eyes. "As for the pay... it's quite generous. Looking at you, I think you'd be a perfect fit. How about I put in a recommendation and get you a job here?"
Anser's heart stirred. "What happened to that satyr from before?"
"Made enough money and went home to have little lambs," the Beholder replied with a knowing grin.
"Oh~" Anser still wasn't used to talking with a giant floating eyeball. The fact that its expressions were so animated only made the whole thing feel even more absurd.
"Hey, aren't you itching to ask me something?" The Beholder seemed remarkably chatty.
"Why are there so many people here today?" Anser asked, taking the opening.
"Hehe, take a guess."
"The Chosen?"
"Huh? You know about them?"
"Not only do I know about them, I've met quite a few."
"Then you're about to get rich!" the Beholder declared confidently. Its eyestalks waved about wildly, making its enthusiasm look bizarrely unsettling.
"Hm?" Anser had no idea what it meant.
"Go take a look at the trading hall and you'll see for yourself." The Beholder adopted a deliberately mysterious tone.
Anser couldn't be bothered to keep chatting. He waved a hand and followed the passageway behind the bar into the neatly organized marketplace.
Far more shops were open than during his last visit. Bargaining voices filled the air, and streams of people came and went. The place was almost bustling.
As he walked through the market, he noticed several large-scale transactions in progress, most involving food supplies and mineral resources.
'What's this for?'
He had a vague suspicion, but it still felt too early.
Surely the situation couldn't already be spiraling out of control only two days after the Chosen had appeared.
The moment he stepped into the second-floor trading hall, his attention was drawn to the projection crystals mounted on the walls.
Nearly every task board was offering bounties for information on the whereabouts of Chosen.
Without exception.
His gaze settled on Projection Crystal No. 27, the exclusive task board of the Magic Research Society.
The heavily highlighted and pinned bounty for spell models was gone.
In its place was a bounty seeking Chosen affiliated with the Goddess of Magic.
The reward was listed at twenty thousand pounds of gold.
One million gold coins.
'This...'
Anser clicked his tongue inwardly. For a brief moment, he actually felt tempted to sell Brunhilde.
If there were no surprises, Azuth almost certainly belonged to the Goddess of Magic's faction, making her a perfect match for the bounty requirements.
'The Magic Research Society is probably trying to protect these Chosen, right?'
He wasn't entirely sure.
Nor did he dare think too deeply about it.
Human nature was unpredictable. How could any organization truly be of one mind?
"Drizzt!"
A voice suddenly called out from behind him.
Anser immediately realized the person was addressing him. Drizzt was the alias he had used during his previous visit.
Rapid footsteps approached.
Turning around, he saw the elderly wizard Jiandar striding toward him. Though his hair and beard were completely white, his back remained perfectly straight. His expression was excited, and his eyes carried a hint of scrutiny.
"Wizard Jiandar..."
"Come with me."
Jiandar composed himself and beckoned.
Without another word, he led Anser through the hall and several corridors before entering Room 27 near the inner section of the complex.
After shutting the door, Jiandar didn't even wait for Anser to sit down.
He fixed him with an unwavering stare, his voice carrying a trace of barely concealed anticipation.
"Drizzt, are you a Chosen?"
"How could a little wizard like me possibly be a Chosen?" Anser waved dismissively, his expression turning slightly odd.
"Divine favor has nothing to do with strength. Many Chosen were merely elite adventurers before receiving it." Jiandar stared at him suspiciously, clearly unconvinced. "Speak freely. The Society will stand behind you."
"I'm really not one."
As he spoke, a strand of platinum radiance appeared at his fingertips.
"I'm a Paladin of the Platinum Dragon God."
Jiandar's expression froze.
Then he let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Ah... I thought..."
"What does the Society want with the Chosen?" Anser probed.
"To preserve hope and keep the flame alive. The Chosen must not die."
Jiandar said only that much before falling silent, clearly unwilling to reveal anything further.
Anser didn't press the issue.
Instead, he asked curiously, "As far as I know, Chosen can sense one another. What happens if two Chosen arrive at Traveler's Respite at the same time?"
"Traveler's Respite has raised its security level and suppresses the resonance between Chosen." Jiandar shook his head slightly.
"Is the Society still buying spell models?" That was what Anser really cared about.
"Yes!"