The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

When the first ray of sunlight from the horizon spilled into the mountain hollow, Anser felt something stir within him and suddenly rolled over, sitting upright.

He had not slept well. After completing attunement with the staff, he was unable to fall asleep for a long time. Memories of his previous life and the battles of the previous day surged back and forth in his mind, leaving his thoughts in turmoil.

Earlier, with crises pressing in on all sides, he had no time to think much. But once he stopped, his thoughts began to wander uncontrollably. How could something like transmigration be adapted to all at once?

Still, in his previous life he had been a dull, exhausted wage worker, while now he was a professional who wielded wondrous magic. Compared to that, this place was far more interesting.

”You’re awake.” Bratt’s voice came from beside him.

Anser followed the sound and spotted him on a large tree not far away.

He was squatting on the trunk, holding his sword and gazing into the distance, and it looked like he had been there for a while.

”So early?”

”Early enough. I sleep very well. Besides, if I’d been any later, I would’ve been sucked dry by mosquitoes.” Bratt flipped down from the tree trunk.

”There are mosquitoes?” Anser asked in confusion.

”You have draconic blood. What mosquito would dare get close to you?” Bratt shot him a sideways glance.

”So that’s how it is.” Anser chuckled softly, not expecting draconic blood to have that effect.

”We need to set out early. Dusthawk Hill isn’t large, but it’s not easy to traverse.” Bratt took food from his pack and handed some to Anser, then passed him a cloth bag that was more than half deflated. ”Put it in your backpack. That way, if we get separated, you won’t end up going hungry.”

He had long since noticed that Anser had little experience surviving in the wild and felt somewhat uneasy.

”And you?” Anser did not take it.

”Please don’t question the survival ability of a seasoned adventurer.” Bratt said deliberately, stressing his words.

”Keep it. I still have some in my backpack.” Anser shook his head slightly.

He might lack experience, but he wasn’t lacking in sense. All the good stuff was in his personal backpack.

”All right.” Bratt glanced at his backpack and reminded him again, ”When fleeing for your life, food is more important than anything. Sometimes even dragon coins can’t buy you bread.”

”Thanks for the reminder.” Anser nodded.

Dragon coins are the common circulating gold coins of Faerûn. They can be exchanged for ten silver coins or one hundred copper coins (alloy coins), and a single copper coin can buy roughly one pound of wheat.

Breakfast consisted of cold-water bread, Gouda cheese, and smoked turkey strips. The two of them ate freely, since fighting and fleeing could not be done without strength.

After the meal, daylight had fully broken. The two packed up their things, went down the mountain at once, and then continued east along the River Chionthar.

Dusthawk Hill has a diameter of only two or three kilometers and rises several hundred meters high. There are no particularly fierce wild beasts, and many residents often pass through the mountain for convenience, so there are many small paths here.

The two proceeded cautiously the whole way, remaining on guard for a long time. Not to mention underground creatures, they did not even see a single human.

Only several foul-smelling corpses told them that this place was not safe.

It was currently the Summer Tide Month, that is, July. The weather was hot, and corpses would quickly begin to stink.

”At least a day old. All done by humans,” Bratt said, seemingly unsurprised.

Underground creatures were unfamiliar with the terrain and could not have found such a hidden place in a short time.

Anser pressed his lips together and did not speak. After a day of adjustment, he was already able to observe these corpses without changing expression, but the fermented stench of decay was truly unbearable.

After more than half an hour passed, the terrain gradually leveled out.

After crossing a bare little hill, the view suddenly opened up. A dense cluster of buildings appeared ahead, mainly low wooden houses, gray and drab, disorderly and crowded, lacking any planning.

On the riverbank several hundred meters away, a tall bridge spanned the River Chionthar. It was packed tightly with buildings. Calling it a bridge, it was in fact more like a commercial alleyway erected on Wyrm’s Rock in the riverbed.

This was the famous Wyrm’s Crossing. The grand fortress structure at its center was the Flaming Fist stronghold.

It was an important transportation hub. On the far side of the bridge was the Rivington district; on this side was the Twin Songs district, and north of the Twin Songs district lay the Sow’s Foot district.

Anser had inherited the original owner’s memories and was very familiar with all of this, so he was not particularly surprised.

Making use of the height advantage, he swept his gaze across the Twin Songs district. He did not see any traces of underground creatures, but there were quite a few humans staying here.

”It looks like the underground creatures haven’t come here yet.” Bratt turned to look at Anser, his eyes carrying a hint of inquiry.

”Let’s go.” Anser did not hesitate and took the lead in going down the hill.

The two moved swiftly northeast along the edge of Dusthawk Hill, without entering the city proper and without making contact with the people hiding inside the buildings.

The Twin Songs district and the Sow’s Foot district were connected by a long, narrow main road, with low slopes on both sides.

After rounding the foot of the hill, a clearly hardened road appeared ahead, winding to the left and then disappearing behind the mountain.

At the same time, a burst of clamorous noise rushed into Anser’s ears—whistling sounds, screams, roars, and the clash of weapons…

”Something’s happened!” Bratt halted and lightly drew his longsword.

”Gray dwarves.” Anser’s heart sank. He heard Undercommon and Goblin.

The two lightened their steps and quietly approached. The sounds grew louder, and as the road turned, a chaotic battlefield came into view.

More than a dozen humans were fighting against over thirty gray dwarf slaves. The battle was intense, and the ground was littered with corpses and bloodstains.

Anser narrowed his eyes. It was the first time he had seen such a brutal fight, and he felt both nervous and faintly exhilarated.

”The gray dwarves actually pushed this far.” Bratt’s expression turned grave.

Anser realized it as well. The Sow’s Foot district was probably no longer an option.

”The one in command is a paladin of the God of Justice. They… are in bad shape.” Bratt quickly assessed the battlefield.

Anser looked more closely and discovered that, on the human side, in addition to humans there were also halflings and dwarves. Their clothing was not uniform, likely a team hastily assembled.

At the very front were two human paladins. Holy light gleamed on their swords and shields as they forcibly withstood attacks from several times their number, barely stabilizing the line.

On the gray dwarf side, goblins made up the majority. There were also tall bugbears and hobgoblins, around a dozen orcs, and four or five gray dwarves standing at the rear, not directly taking part in the fighting.

”I know them. Rand and Zahir from the Twin Songs district’s Church of Last Hope,” Anser said in a low voice.

The original owner had grown up in the Outer City district and was very familiar with the Church of Last Hope, often coming here to play as a child.

”Should we help?” Bratt looked at Anser, waiting for him to decide.

From a rational analysis, they should go help. If the gray dwarves won, they would inevitably seize Wyrm’s Crossing, and then no one would be able to get through.

But people cherish their lives. If they could run, why risk themselves?

”Don’t rush.” Anser focused his attention on observing those gray dwarves.

[Duergar Warlord, dwarf, Challenge Rating 6]

[Hobgoblin Officer, goblinoid, Challenge Rating 3]

His eyelid twitched, and a thought of retreat arose.

Level 5 was a watershed. For example, Wizards could master third-circle Fireball, causing their strength to surge dramatically.

Professionals of levels 5 to 10 were the backbone of major organizations. Even city guard commanders were generally only at this level and were called elite professionals.

Challenge Rating was different from class level. A standard four-person adventuring party was needed to defeat a monster of the same Challenge Rating.

And even a young black dragon had a Challenge Rating of only 7.

Anser steadied his emotions and shifted his gaze back to the human side.

[Rand, human, 6th-level Paladin (Oath of Devotion)]

[Zahir, human, 5th-level Paladin (Oath of Devotion)]

’This fight can be taken.’ After several seconds of consideration, Anser still decided to help.

Gray dwarves had sunlight sensitivity, making them weaker in daytime combat. Most importantly, paladins would not betray their companions. Even if they were forced to retreat, they would firmly hold back the enemy’s main force.

Anser pulled Bratt closer and pointed out the stronger enemies to him one by one, signaling him to be extra careful.

”We’re going in.”

”Stay behind me.” Bratt bared his teeth in a cold grin, gripped his sword with both hands, and charged forward first.