"It might not necessarily be a bad thing."
The black-robed man let out a light chuckle.
"Hm?"
"Baldur's Gate has collapsed, subterranean creatures have invaded, and then there was flooding. Do you know how many dead there are in the city right now? How many people die every day? You can't even count them all. Our opportunity has arrived, haha…"
The more he spoke, the more excited he became.
Earlier, he had used Speak with Dead on a deceased Amnian, and as a result he was fully aware of everything that had happened in Baldur's Gate.
His companion's mouth fell slightly open, eyes wide, wearing an expression like a bear seeing honey. "Really?!"
"Heh, you can ask yourself in a moment."
The companion's lips curled upward, eyes narrowing to slits. "Why not gather the believers and hold a grand ritual? Perhaps we might receive a response from our lord…"
...
More than ten minutes passed.
Anser withdrew with the group to a high slope, where Bratt and Finn were waiting for him.
"Why did you stop running?" he asked in confusion.
"The undead didn't chase us out. The Amnians broke through…"
Finn kept it brief, quickly relaying to him the situation that the gray hawk had scouted.
Aside from a few zombies that were still stubbornly chasing the scent of the living, the main undead force had been focusing on dealing with those Amnians.
Those Amnians were not foolish. Charging toward the direction of their camp was not only to create chaos, but also because there was a lake in that direction.
They mustered their remaining strength to launch one final breakout. In the end, two of them broke through the encirclement and jumped into the lake.
The undead did not let them go and continued the pursuit, but they could not swim. Skeletons sank to the bottom, while zombies lacked the coordination to drown yet also could not catch up.
In the end, the undead left behind a single undead knight to hunt them down. The main force, dragging a pile of corpses, shifted eastward in large numbers under the leadership of two black-robed men.
Judging from the direction, they were heading toward Baldur's Gate.
"What kind of undead knight was it? Was it fast?" Anser pressed.
"Didn't dare get close. Probably not as fast as Nornoth." Finn shook his head.
The gray hawk was, after all, a diurnal creature. At night it could not see clearly, and with the other side having bows and arrows, it also did not dare get too close.
Anser stroked his chin and fell into thought.
The undead leaving was within his expectations. This place had been exposed, and he was wearing a holy symbol. No matter how stubborn they were, the other side would not wait here to die.
The undead damaged both ecology and commerce, and wherever they went they were unwelcome. The Lords' Alliance, the major churches, and the guilds could each casually put up a bounty, and there would be people willing to do the job.
The origins and intentions of those Amnians were unclear, but where the evil camp was concerned, there were no good people.
Since the greatest threat had left, he decided to go take a look by the lake. Perhaps there might be an unexpected gain.
"Have the gray hawk lead me there."
"Alright."
Anser swung himself onto his horse and spurred it into a full gallop toward the southeast.
Before long, the gray hawk flew over, circled above his head once, then slightly changed direction and led the way through the air.
Nornoth understood instantly, adjusted direction in sync, and followed closely along the ground.
After more than ten minutes, a brightly shimmering lake surface came into view.
Under the moonlight, two figures were lingering at the center of the lake. One of them was clutching a piece of dead driftwood, churning the water until the lake surface looked like a shattered silver mirror.
On the shore, a gray-white knight was constantly pacing about, a bow and arrows in hand, eager to try his luck.
"Pretty clever," Anser chuckled inwardly.
The Amnians had clearly realized that the undead had all withdrawn, but with a mounted knight still on the shore, they simply stayed in the middle of the lake and refused to come out.
As long as they waited until dawn, the undead would naturally leave.
But they were not having an easy time. That gray-white knight would occasionally loose a few arrows. Although the distance was great, his aim was not poor, keeping them constantly on edge.
Anser slowed his horse and approached from the other side. The somewhat dull sound of hooves rang out, immediately drawing the attention of both the Amnians and the undead knight.
When the Amnians made out who was coming by the moonlight, their faces lit up with joy.
"Sir, do you remember me? We met during the day. The one by the lake is an undead—if you help deal with it, I'm willing to offer one thousand gold coins as a reward…"
Anser let out a cold laugh. Even at this moment, the other side was still playing tricks, trying to deceive him right away into risking his life against an undead whose strength was unknown.
He stopped by the lakeshore and focused on observing the two groups.
[Amnian Elite, Dragonborn, Level 3 Barbarian (Berserker)]
[Amnian Captain, Human, Level 5 Fighter (Battle Master)]
[Skeleton Warhorse, Undead, Challenge Rating 1/2]
[Wight, Undead, Challenge Rating 3]
"Good grief, even a Wight has shown up."
The skeleton warhorse was not worth worrying about. The truly troublesome one was the Wight.
Wights were transformed from the corpses of some cold-blooded soldiers. They retained their memories from life and were intelligent undead creatures. Humanoids killed by a Wight's hand would rise again as zombies after one day, becoming its subordinates.
Whether necromancy wizards or clerics of Myrkul, the number of undead they could control was limited. They were particularly fond of transforming and controlling Wights, using them as the foundation to build undead legions.
At this moment, seeing that he still had not responded, the two Amnians hugged their logs and swam toward him, clearly trying to force him into the fray.
The Wight immediately charged over, menacing and aggressive.
Anser lightly patted his horse's back. Nornoth turned and ran, circling around the edge of the lake.
If you chase, I run. If you stop, I stop. Nornoth was faster, and the Wight could not catch up at all.
The two Amnians slunk back to the center of the lake. They had just entered the Wight's range and taken two arrows. If they had not blocked them with the logs, they would already be corpses by now.
Anser was very patient, continuing to tease the Wight. After several rounds, he had wasted quite a few of its arrows.
He quietly communicated with Nornoth: "Can you block its arrows?"
"Of course!" Nornoth replied with confidence.
Anser took a deep breath. Magic Power surged, and orange-red energy gathered at his chest and throat, giving him a feeling that he absolutely had to unleash it.
"I'm counting on you. Go!" He lightly patted the horse's back while lowering his body at the same time.
Nornoth suddenly wheeled around and launched a charge straight at the skeleton warhorse. The thunder of hooves came like dense drumbeats, full of rhythm.
Seeing this, the Wight was overjoyed. It spurred its mount into a head-on charge, drawing its longbow to the full. As the distance closed, there was a twang, a sharp shriek tearing through the air.
Nornoth's sword-like neck armor unfolded backward layer by layer like petals, like a folding fan, forming a half-conical shape that tightly protected Anser and his torso without leaving the slightest gap.
In the next instant, the arrow struck the armor plating at a very shallow angle and, with a clang, was deflected away, leaving behind a deep scrape.
The Wight froze for a moment, then immediately fired again. With a crack, the arrow shattered several scales and bounced off to who knew where.
It wanted to shoot again, but grasped at empty air. There were no arrows left.
Nornoth was already right in front of it. The Wight decisively drew its necrotic sword—this was its true specialty.
Just as it set its stance, Nornoth suddenly shifted direction, avoiding its edge.
As the two sides were about to cross past each other at a distance of only a few meters, the warhorse's neck armor snapped shut, revealing Anser with his mouth wide open, roaring.
"Hah—"
Scorching draconic breath surged forth, instantly engulfing the Wight and the skeleton warhorse alike, dead center without the slightest deviation.
The Wight was blasted straight back. The skeleton warhorse lost its balance, fell, and was carried by powerful inertia into several tumbling rolls, its bones scattering everywhere.
[…Skeleton Warhorse hit, taking 16 fire damage and 6 bludgeoning damage. Critical hit. Target dead. Gained 100 experience points.]
[…Wight hit, taking 10 fire damage and 4 bludgeoning damage. Current Hit Points 68/82…]
"Eh, bludgeoning damage?" Anser was surprised inwardly.
It seemed that a stationary breath and a charging breath were not quite the same, or perhaps the other side had simply fallen too hard.
This was a test on his part. He had not expected the effect to be this good. Casting while mounted was far too difficult, but if it was Dragon's Breath, things became much simpler. The drawback was that it had to be close-quarters.
Nornoth slowed down, turned around, and launched another charge.
This time, the Wight had no mount!
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