The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

The duergar had originally assumed that the human spellcaster would be exhausted after casting just a few spells. They had not expected the spells to keep coming without end. Their psionic spells had relatively short range and simply could not reach him, leaving them secretly seething with frustration.

Seeing that Anser and the archer posed too great a threat, they wanted to shift the battlefield backward. However, with everyone already entangled together, a rash withdrawal could easily trigger a collapse.

As the duergar side’s slaves were steadily cleared in large numbers, the human side seized the initiative, and the battlefield gradually shifted.

Anser looked down over the battlefield. The nearest enemy was already more than forty meters away from him, beyond the theoretical spell range, yet he could still hit them—only with a somewhat reduced accuracy.

”It should be related to my spellcasting attribute.”

His spellcasting attribute was Charisma, at 16 points, far higher than that of an ordinary person. As his Charisma increased, his casting speed, spell range, and control over magic power all rose slightly.

”Huff—”

He paused his casting, propped himself up with his staff, and steadied his breathing to ease the swelling pain in his head.

Continuous casting had left him mentally fatigued. His magic power was nearly half depleted, and a faint sense of emptiness welled up inside him.

It seemed that even with ”magic control,” his mind and body still could not support pouring out all his spells in one go.

”Roar—”

Suddenly, a tremendous roar shook the mountains on both sides, sending loose stones rattling down.

Anser was startled and followed the sound with his gaze. A bald giant more than three meters tall had suddenly appeared on the battlefield and was charging straight toward Rand.

”Enlarge!”

The duergar overseer had entered the fight.

Anser quickly hopped down the hillside and jogged toward the battlefield in short strides.

Helping out was secondary. The main reason was that standing on the slope was far too conspicuous—if he drew the bald giant’s aggro, it would be real trouble.

He hurried a few more steps, hid himself behind the crowd, and observed quietly.

On the battlefield, the bald giant swung his warhammer with terrifying momentum. Rand focused mainly on evasion, with only occasional counterattacks.

Their fight was far too intense, and the people around them scattered one after another to avoid being caught in the collateral damage.

Anser noticed that Rand rarely cast divine spells above the second level. It was likely due to the influence of the Weave, whereas the psionic power mastered by the duergar did not rely on the Weave.

Fortunately, it was daytime. The duergar had sunlight sensitivity, and with the paladin relying primarily on radiant attacks—which restrained the enemy to some extent—Rand could barely protect himself.

At this moment, Zahir finished off his opponent and rushed up to join Rand in fighting the bald giant together.

Even so, the bald giant’s momentum did not diminish. With a single hammer blow, Rand failed to evade in time and was smashed to the ground. Blood flowed from the corner of his mouth, and his shield was visibly dented.

”Too bad I don’t know support spells.” Anser sighed inwardly.

Right now, he did not dare launch an attack. If the bald giant really went after him, Rand might not be able to stop him.

By chance, he noticed the sun overhead above the giant, and a thought stirred in his mind: ”Sunlight sensitivity!”

As far as he knew, duergar had resistance to poison, illusion, and charm effects, but suffered perceptual disadvantages under sunlight.

And his Draconic Bloodline Command spell forced the target to make a Wisdom saving throw; if the save failed, the target had to obey a single command.

”His Wisdom shouldn’t be high.”

With that thought, he hesitated no longer. He quickly moved closer to the battlefield while fully mobilizing his own magic power.

He stepped out from the crowd, braced his staff with his left hand, pointed at the duergar overseer with his right, and shouted angrily: ”Drop!”

An invisible magical effect enveloped the bald giant. He clearly froze for a moment, a trace of confusion flashing through his eyes, and he instinctively loosened his grip on the warhammer.

Rand’s spirits lifted. Before the warhammer could hit the ground, he stepped forward and kicked it toward Zahir, who snatched it up and hurled it forcefully onto the hillside.

The bald giant had not expected that a brief lapse would cost him his weapon. Enraged beyond measure, he turned to look for Anser, that despicable sneak, only to find that Anser had already hidden himself behind the crowd, while Bratt and the others surged forward and blocked his line of sight.

”Roar… Awo—”

Rand slashed a deep gash into his thigh, cutting off his roar.

The bald giant did not dare be distracted. He retreated two quick steps, casually picked up a spear from the ground, and forced the two of them back.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he ran away!

Seeing this, the remaining duergar and slaves turned tail and fled without the slightest hesitation.

”Roar, roar, roar…”

On the human side, they waved their weapons and put on a show of shouting threats, but they did not pursue—and had no strength left to pursue.

”What a pity, so much experience.” Anser sighed inwardly, yet he also knew this was the best possible outcome.

With the paladin present, the humans could probably win if they fought it out head-on, but how many would survive afterward was another matter entirely.

Anser swept his gaze around. Only about a dozen people were still standing now, and virtually every one of them was injured.

Corpses littered the ground. Severed limbs, organs, and blood covered everything. After those few steps he had just run, his boots were already caked with bloody mud, and the sticky sensation made the hair on his arms stand on end.

”Clean up the battlefield, hurry—” Zahir called out to everyone and began using Lay on Hands and healing potions to treat the wounded.

Anser scanned the area again. Spotting a goblin that was not quite dead yet, his eyes lit up. He strode forward and smashed it to death with a single blow of his staff.

[Target dead. Gained 3 experience points…]

The experience was little, but there was no danger. He curled the corner of his mouth into a grin, revealing a mouthful of stark white teeth.

Seeing this, Bratt could not help shivering. ”Such heavy killing intent.”

”Let someone else handle this. Take a rest.”

He hurried forward to pull Anser back, thinking that Anser was worried about his parents and was venting his emotions on the subterranean creatures.

”Uh, all right.” Anser did not insist. Maintaining a normal persona was important.

”You’re injured?”

Bratt was covered in blood, his clothes torn to shreds, and he looked rather frightening.

”It’s nothing, just minor wounds. Thanks to you looking after me.” Bratt gave a slight shake of his head, but it tugged at the wound on his neck, making him suck in a sharp breath of pain.

Footsteps approached. The two turned their heads to look, and Rand was striding over. He carried his helmet in his left hand, blood staining the corner of his mouth and his ear, and there was a clearly visible dent in his breastplate.

”Thank you both for your help.” As he spoke, Rand handed half a vial of red potion to Bratt. ”This is for you.”

”Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” Bratt smiled and reached out to take it, but did not use it right away.

It was a healing potion. A single bottle was worth 50 gold coins, and even half a bottle was still quite valuable.

”Your heroic actions deserve even more. Unfortunately, I’m almost out of potions here.” Rand praised them, then looked at Anser. ”Sir, we seem to have met somewhere before?”

”Uncle Rand, I’m Anser Holrewen. Do you remember the Sow’s Foot bakery?” Anser reminded him.

His draconic bloodline had subtly adjusted his appearance and build. His bearing was worlds apart from before, making him hard to recognize unless one knew him well.

”You’re… little Anser?” Rand stared at the fine dragon scales on Anser’s face, finding it hard to believe.

They had not seen each other for many years. He simply could not connect the confident, mysterious spellcaster before him with the scrawny boy in his memories.

”It’s me. I awakened my bloodline by accident and became a Sorcerer,” Anser said with a smile.

”Good. Very good.” Rand patted his arm. His head was slightly lowered, his expression complicated, yet a trace of hesitation showed at the corners of his eyes.

Rand was not tall—about one meter seventy. Anser was half a head taller than him. He could not see Rand’s expression clearly, but he could sense his reluctance to speak.

”What is it?”

”You… don’t go to the bakery.” After a moment of silence, Rand still decided to tell him.

Anser’s heart skipped. ”Something happened to my parents?”

”Yes. Yesterday we were evacuating civilians all day. Your parents refused to leave and wanted to look for you, but a cleric talked them out of it. Later, rioters rushed into the bakery to loot it… By the time we discovered it, it was already too late. We could only hastily bury the bodies…”

Rand gripped Anser’s arm tightly, as if afraid he might suddenly lose control.

Anser’s breathing grew heavy. His emotions churned, complex beyond measure, yet there was not much sorrow or regret—instead, there was a strange sense of release.

It felt somewhat heartless, but that was indeed how he truly felt.

After all… he was not the original owner of this body.

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