Two kinds of Kuo-toa were present. Aside from the purple-skinned or brown-skinned fish-men Anser had once seen in Baldur's Gate, there was another type—taller in build, with unusually developed dorsal fins and hooked claws.
Judging from their eyes and expressions, they did not seem very intelligent.
After the huge waves passed, the wind and swells gradually weakened. The dark clouds slowly dispersed as well, and visibility improved.
One man and one horse quietly approached a position not far from the Sea Shark. Scattered across the deck lay six or seven crew members, sprawled in disarray, who appeared to have survived by sheer luck and managed to climb back aboard.
Upon discovering Anser's arrival, they hurriedly scrambled to their feet, only to realize that they did not even have a single weapon in their hands.
Several of them instinctively looked toward the man standing in the corner.
Anser's gaze shifted slightly as he said calmly, "Are you the captain?"
"Oh, so even a follower of Tyr is afraid of death. Instead of going to Silver Scale Bay to save people, you come here to kill a few who are doomed anyway?" Hels sneered mockingly.
"What was that just now?" Anser asked.
"Didn't you see it? A fish-men tide."
"Does it have anything to do with you?"
"If I had that kind of ability, do you think you'd still be alive right now?"
Anser rubbed his chin. It seemed the other party had only intended to summon a few Sahuagin to break free, but by ill luck they had run straight into a fish-men tide. The two kinds of creatures were like mortal enemies, and the Kuo-toa had conveniently wiped the Sahuagin out along the way.
It was also possible that the two sides had already been fighting beneath the sea for quite some time. Hearing the sound of the horn, the Sahuagin might have thought salvation had arrived, only to end up—
"Where did these Kuo-toa come from?" Anser pressed.
"Do you think I know more than you do?" Hels slowly drew his longsword, taking on a posture that suggested he was ready to fight to the death.
"Does the Water Breathing Potion taste good?" Anser raised an eyebrow.
He had seen the state and magic power fluctuations Ragna and the others displayed after drinking Water Breathing Potions. That little trick was not going to fool him.
Hels's expression changed. He stopped putting on an act, dropped the longsword, turned, and ran toward the other side of the ship, trying to jump into the sea to escape.
"व्यक्तिगत"
Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Quickened Spell, Heighten Spell + Hold Person!
Just as Hels took a step forward, a burst of Draconic exploded beside his ear. His heart clenched as he tried to dodge, only to realize his body was no longer under his control. A numbing sensation instantly swept through him, and he could only collapse helplessly onto the deck.
Anser's expression was focused, the spell orb in his hand rippling with wave after wave of magic power.
"ફ્લેમરે"
Metamagic: Empowered Spell + Scorching Ray!
Three scorching rays flashed through the air and struck Hels's cheek almost simultaneously. With a loud bang, his head was snapped aside. Black smoke billowed out, then was quickly dispersed by the sea wind.
[…Captain of the Sea Shark hit, took 64 points of fire damage. Critical hit. Target killed. Gained 575 experience points.]
Too fast. From the moment Hels prepared to flee to the moment his head was burned black, only a few seconds had passed.
In the brief instant the others were stunned, the captain who had once inspired awe was already dead.
A bone-chilling cold ran through the remaining men. Almost simultaneously, they rushed toward the railing and leapt into the sea. Only that route still offered even the slightest chance of survival.
Anser ignored the others and locked his gaze onto the man with the small mustache. He recognized him—the lecherous first mate.
He lightly brushed the Ring of Spell Storing, and three Scorching Rays struck the mustached man with pinpoint accuracy in midair, making his body jerk violently, the pain so intense that he could not even cry out.
Just as he was about to hit the water, three Magic Missiles came tracking in once again.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
[…Target killed. Gained 247 experience points.]
Not bad. Anser relaxed slightly. Although the process had been somewhat bumpy, at least the two big fish had not escaped.
It was not that the others were indecisive. With fish-men everywhere beneath the sea right now, who would want to jump into the water unless absolutely forced to?
Combination Metamagic was truly powerful. With a single burst, he had instantly killed an elite-class combatant. The drawback was the tremendous consumption—after just two spells, more than half of his sorcery points were gone.
And this was only a relatively simple Metamagic combination. If he wanted explosive output, he would inevitably have to sacrifice sustainability. Trying to have both was simply unrealistic.
Another wave surged in, and the mustached man's corpse was already gone. He had weapons and equipment on him, so once he fell into the water, he would inevitably sink.
Anser did not attempt to retrieve the body. His entire focus was on Silver Scale Bay.
'I hope Emon, Gwyneth, Titch, and Ragna are sharp enough to just run,' he thought. He raised a hand to tidy his hair, which had been blown into disarray by the sea wind, only to find it completely useless, leaving his mood even more unsettled.
When a fish-men tide attacks Silver Scale Bay, the most terrifying part is the first massive wave. With such overwhelming numbers, the sailing ships and the coastal buildings would likely be more than half destroyed.
However, the anchorage and the port had merchant vessels and warships stationed there, with considerable strength. The fish-men's first wave of attack was unlikely to go smoothly, and the residents on the town's outer ring should still have a chance to flee.
'I'm supposed to be neutral good, yet I keep worrying about things that don't help anyone.'
Anser muttered the thought to himself and turned his head. The Quesser was already drawing alongside.
He leapt onto the slave ship, bundled up the captain's longsword and personal belongings, hung them from the saddle, and hurried back to the Quesser.
The atmosphere aboard the ship was unusually oppressive. No one spoke. They simply stared at the barely visible lights of Silver Scale Bay in the distance, lacking even the will to search for slaves who had fallen overboard or to clean up the battlefield.
"We can't go any farther," Anser said as he reached the sterncastle and pressed a hand firmly against the helm.
Salian spun the wheel sharply, turning the ship about. It was not that he did not understand—no one wanted to acknowledge this cruel reality.
"Anser!" Kaleno suddenly dropped to one knee in front of him, his eyes bloodshot. "I beg you—lend Nornoth to me. I have to save my sister. I can't live without her."
"Calm down." Anser tugged at him but failed to pull him up. He had no choice but to crouch down and look him straight in the eye. "The Moonshadow Quelin is some distance from the coast. Gwyneth is very smart—she knows what to do. Trust her, all right? If you go now, you'll only make things worse."
The number of fish-men was probably greater than the number of residents. Trying to approach from the sea would be suicidal.
Salian swept his gaze over everyone's faces and offered reassurance. "Once the fish-men come ashore, they move slowly and aren't suited to land. It's not that bad… it's not that bad…"
The Quesser lingered briefly. The crew boarded the slave ship to search it, rescuing six slaves from the hold. After a quick sweep for valuables, they set sail south once more.
Paros lay north of Baldur's Gate, but the northern waters were far too terrifying. Going that way was out of the question for now. It would be better to follow the coastline south, find a place to anchor, and wait for the disaster to pass before heading north again.
The crew all gathered in the first-floor dining hall. The atmosphere was oppressive.
After offering Bratt a few words of comfort, Anser took Finn up to the top of the sterncastle. Together, they monitored the situation at Silver Scale Bay and the surrounding waters.
The two of them were both alone in the world, with no ties or burdens. They had also witnessed the post-disaster devastation of Baldur's Gate, so their psychological resilience was strong, and they were not overly affected.
In truth, Anser had long been mentally prepared. Turmoil in the Weave was bound to bring about massive catastrophic consequences. Baldur's Gate was unlikely to be the first, and it certainly would not be the last.
"Have Grey Eagle fly a bit higher. Don't let it get targeted by any monsters," he reminded Finn. "Report to me immediately if anything comes up."
"Mm."
Anser leaned against the mast and sat down, closing his eyes as he pulled up his character sheet.
His experience had reached 5867/6500. Tonight alone, he had unexpectedly gained over a thousand experience points. He was not far from leveling up.
With disasters breaking out everywhere and chaos spreading across the land, even elite professionals above level five were being swept along by events beyond their control. There was simply no sense of security at all.
'I can't let my guard down.'
He then checked Nornoth's attributes. Over this period of frequent fighting, it had not directly killed enemies, but through scattered contributions it had still gained sixty to seventy experience points. Its total experience had just passed two hundred—still a very long way from leveling up.
As a mount fighting in coordination, it did gain combat experience, but the amount was extremely small. Fortunately, Nornoth's current capabilities were sufficient, so leveling up was not an urgent need.
At that moment, Finn suddenly tugged at his sleeve, his expression grave.
"Baldur's Gate—the Rivington district has also seen large numbers of fish-men…"
Grey Eagle expanded its reconnaissance range and discovered that fighting had erupted all around Baldur's Gate. Silver Scale Bay, Baldur's Gate, Rivington, and the larger human settlements along the coast…
Underground creatures were everywhere, covering the hills and plains. Their varieties were even more numerous now, and signs of drow and duergar had also appeared.
The Seatower district and Bloomridge district near the River Chionthar had already fallen. The three Grand Dukes could only rely on the city walls to barely hold the Upper City. How long they could last was hard to say.
Something major that the surface world doesn't yet know about must have happened!
Anser was absolutely certain of it.
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