The Archmetamagician: The Weave Collapses Again

”Which way?” Bratt casually tossed the key onto the counter.

”Don’t rush.” Anser turned to look at Finn. ”What’s the situation?”

”The fortress has fallen. The flooding is severe. The city is in chaos—monsters everywhere. A lot of people are dead…” Finn was monitoring the movements across the city in real time. His voice was hoarse; faced with such a disaster, anyone would find it hard to remain unmoved.

Listening to Finn’s intermittent report, Anser gradually pieced together a picture in his mind.

The southern section of Wyrm’s Crossing and the river embankment had collapsed, blocking half of the river channel. However, because the city itself sat on higher ground, the floodwaters broke through the embankment at the docks in the northeastern corner, then rushed southward along the eastern edge of the city, having little impact on the main urban districts.

But the populace was unaware of this. Coupled with the appearance of large numbers of Underdark creatures at the bridgehead, people panicked and fled south in a frenzy. Large-scale stampedes broke out; many collided with the floodwaters, resulting in heavy casualties.

Based on the terrain, these floodwaters were very likely to flow out from the southeastern side of the city, skirt around Rivington, and merge southwestward into the Sword Coast, forming a tributary. The entire urban area would be trapped within a massive triangular region formed by the River Chionthar and this tributary.

”It’s too late!” Finn tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression stiff.

The flood was moving far too fast. With the guild located near the city center, even if they ran east at full speed now, there was no way they could leave before the flood arrived.

”Sigh—” Anser let out a long sigh toward the sky.

Disaster was always one step ahead of him—but only one step!

”The Flaming Fist fortress… it’s packed with Underdark creatures,” Finn said with a taut face, roughly wiping his beard several times.

”Good thing we didn’t stay at the fortress,” Bratt suddenly felt a lingering fear.

”The Flaming Fist commander must have had a plan early on, which is why he drove everyone away,” Anser sighed, realizing he had underestimated them.

Relying on the breadth of information he had encountered in his previous life, he had thought himself smarter than a proper commander—still too young!

The explosives must have been planted after the Flaming Fist’s main force collapsed earlier. The quantity was more than sufficient, out of fear that it wouldn’t be enough to blow everything apart. Unfortunately, the torrential rain from the heavens caused the southern embankment to collapse as well; otherwise, the plan would have been near-perfect.

This was clearly meant to stop the Underdark creatures from advancing south, protecting the tens of thousands of civilians and farms that had withdrawn to Rivington. These were the foundations of Baldur’s Gate—without people, even if the city were retaken, this trade metropolis would be finished, and reconstruction would be a distant prospect.

Why is the slave trade on the continent of Faerûn so rampant and repeatedly banned yet never eradicated? Because population is simply too important.

However, the plan was good, but the executor was hesitant and unwilling to give up Wyrm’s Crossing. If the northern span of the bridge had been blown up in advance, the situation would not have deteriorated to this extent.

The group arrived at the entrance of the main hall. Faint screams and shouts drifted in on the wind, and a light smell of blood hung in the air.

”Prepare for battle. Have Greyhawk pay close attention to the situation in the city.” Staying holed up here, there was no telling what might happen next; Anser hated being passive.

They were well supplied. Heading for the western farms or the wilderness was a good option. There were many fishing villages along the west coast—there would always be a way to leave this place.

Bratt pulled up his cloak’s hood, shield raised in his left hand and sword in his right, his expression cold.

Finn drew his longbow and nocked an arrow, adjusted the position of his quiver, then gave Anser a slight nod.

”Move—”

Anser stepped out of the guild doors, plunging straight into the wind and rain.

Bratt and the other quickly caught up, one in front and one behind, protecting him in the middle.

They had been delayed at the guild for a while. There were far fewer people on Central Street now, but waves of crowds were still fleeing south in a frenzy.

The entire city was in chaos, strewn with wreckage. Many people did not even know what had happened and were instinctively running along with the crowd.

The group splashed through standing water, moving north along Central Street for about a hundred meters before turning left into a side lane.

After only a few steps, a jumble of hurried footsteps and shouts rapidly approached.

”Run! There are monsters—”

”Help—”

”…”

Anser and Bratt exchanged a glance, inwardly alarmed. Just how many Underdark creatures were there, that they had even reached the city center?

Ahead, a group of civilians suddenly burst out of an alley. When they turned and saw Anser’s group holding an illuminated staff, they were overjoyed and rushed toward them in a scramble.

”Back, back—spread out.” Anser waved his hand, retreating quickly along with the crowd and tossing his backpack into a corner.

With the situation unclear, he had no desire to engage monsters in close combat on the street.

The group had just retreated a dozen meters when six or seven short black figures rushed out of the dim alleyway. They stood at roughly 1.2–1.5 meters tall, hunched-backed and stooped, with oversized heads.

Anser focused his gaze, and his heart jolted.

”Kuo-Toa! How did they end up mixed together with the Duergar?!”

The Kuo-Toa had once been widespread along the coasts and islands of the surface world. Long ago, they were driven into the underground world by humans and other surface races.

Like the Duergar, they had once been enslaved by mind flayers for a period of time. Unlike the Duergar, however, they were abandoned—probably because they were of little use.

”Ha!” Bratt did not recognize the fish-men at all. He bellowed angrily, turned sideways, raised his shield to take the front position, and held his longsword ready in his right hand.

Whoosh—

A sharp arrow cut through the night, its tip piercing the fine rain. Spiraling wind gathered around it, forming a small conical mist, and it struck a fish-man squarely in the head.

With a splash, the fish-man fell backward, blood dyeing the pooled water red.

Chromatic Orb—Lightning!

Anser swung his staff, and a blue sphere of energy, trailing a streak of light, slammed into the group of fish-men.

The leading fish-man raised an iron trident across his chest. In the next instant, the energy sphere erupted violently. Lightning pierced through his body; scorch marks spread across his skin, his muscles stiffened, and he toppled straight down.

Amid the explosive crack, the energy sphere jumped again, struck another fish-man at the waist, and detonated with a thunderous blast.

Lightning conducted from the fish-men’s bodies into the filthy water beneath their feet. Electric light spread outward; all the fish-men stiffened and collapsed in disarray.

”Idiots—don’t you know metal conducts electricity?” Anser’s lips curled slightly.

[You cast Chromatic Orb on a Kuo-toa… The Kuo-toa is hit, takes 18 lightning damage. Critical hit. Target killed. You gain 50 experience points.]

[You cast Chromatic Orb on a Kuo-toa… The Kuo-toa is hit, takes 12 lightning damage. Current Hit Point: 5/17.]

Splash, splash—long boots stamped water into the air as Bratt seized the opportunity and launched a charge.

Whoosh, whoosh—

Two arrows flew past him one after the other, plunging into the fallen fish-men. Piercing wails rose and fell in succession.

The two surviving fish-men had just struggled to their feet when Bratt arrived. One shield bash sent one flying, and with an upward thrust of his longsword, he skewered another through its dead fish eye, the blade bursting out from the back of its skull.

[Target killed. You gain 21 experience points.]

Anser ended his casting. Before he could follow up, the battle was already over.

Seven fish-men: he killed one and severely injured one; Finn killed three; Bratt finished the rest and delivered the killing blows—clean and decisive.

After checking once more and confirming that no monsters were still alive, Bratt turned and gave Anser a thumbs-up.

It was his first time truly understanding why spellcasters were held in such high esteem. A single 1st-level spell, taking advantage of timing and terrain, could control the field and turn what should have been a difficult fight into something so simple.

”Haha, just a bunch of trash mobs. Clean up, and we—”

As he was speaking, Anser felt a sudden chill on his back. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a streak of dark blue sweeping toward his neck from the side.

His whole body tensed, terror surging. Instinctively, he triggered Shield.

The cold gleam closed in. At the critical moment, an invisible force-field barrier appeared in front of the blade.

Clang—

The shield flickered once, then shattered with a bang.

Anser burst forward, rolling awkwardly through the mud to pull two meters of distance between them. His heart hammered wildly—just now, he had even felt the icy touch of the dagger slicing past his cloak.

There was no time to feel relieved. He turned his head and saw that where there had originally been no one at all, a short cloaked figure had appeared, holding a dark-blue, oddly shaped dagger in its hand.

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