The experience given by the two people from Amn was a bit low, but it had been nothing more than last-hitting to steal the kill, so there was no reason to expect too much.
"Why didn't I level up?"
During the fight he had not been able to spare the attention to count how much experience he gained, but Anser remembered that he should not have been far from leveling up.
His mind sank into his consciousness. The silver twenty-sided die slowly rotated, and the third sigil upon it was already fully lit.
"As expected, I can't play it too safe." His spirits immediately lifted.
He casually opened his character sheet. His experience had reached 2596/2700—just a little over a hundred more to level up.
"Uh, this… right in that awkward middle."
He steadied his emotions. Now was not the time to think about that.
Without wasting time, he rode around the lake once, wrapping all visible spoils in burlap. Then he returned to the camp, packed up the three tents, and roughly tossed them onto the horse's back.
After that, he mounted Nornoth and galloped eastward at full speed.
He did not enter the water to search for any possible loot. Who knew what might be lurking in the lake?
More than ten minutes later, several lights appeared ahead. Dozens of dispirited figures were gathered together, with the sound of sobbing occasionally drifting over.
Anser swept his gaze across them. Not everyone was there; perhaps a few had gotten separated.
Hearing the sound of hooves, Bratt and the others hurried over.
"Not injured, right?" Bratt saw the items on the horse's back and knew that a fight must have taken place.
"I'm fine." Anser dismounted and unloaded the pile of items.
Seeing the tents, Emon's spirits lifted. "Are the undead all gone?"
"For now, it seems they're all gone. You can't see any living people by the lakeside anymore," Anser said with double meaning.
"Please help us keep watch while we pack up our things," Emon requested.
Without those tents and supplies, these dozens of people probably would not last very long.
"No problem. Be quick—we need to leave as soon as possible," Anser reminded them.
"I understand."
Emon immediately gathered the able-bodied people and led them back along the original route. Bratt went along to help.
Fortunately, the distance was not far, so it would not take too long.
Anser did not go. He had already given warnings and stayed behind to cover the retreat—he had done more than enough.
If it were not for Bratt, he might not even have helped at all.
Of course, there was also a mix of selfishness and greed involved. He was a normal person; being both greedy and afraid was perfectly natural.
Human nature was complex and contradictory.
He found a secluded spot, leaned against Nornoth's leg, and let his mind sink inward.
The silver twenty-sided die slowly rotated, and the third sigil upon it was already fully lit.
"What will it be this time?" His heart was filled with anticipation.
He lightly tapped the die, and fragments of memory surfaced in his mind one after another: fighting, rescuing people, a mount, encountering enemies…
A moment later, the sigil transformed into a complex spherical mark.
Ding—
[You have obtained an Adventure Trait: Arcane Resonance.]
Arcane Resonance: While magic brings destruction, it also gives rise to new life. Some beings will always gain the favor of magic.
Choose one from Abjuration, Divination, Evocation, Illusion, Conjuration, Enchantment, Necromancy, or Transmutation. For each class level, you additionally learn one spell of that school. The spell's level may not exceed the highest spell level you can currently cast.
'One extra spell every level?!' Anser's eyes widened at once.
Although the spell schools were restricted, it was still extremely powerful, greatly making up for the Sorcerer class's shortcoming of having few spells.
Spells were the core of a spellcaster. The more spells one had, the more ways there were to deal with difficulties or dangerous situations.
'What should I choose?'
Among the eight major schools of magic, each had its strengths, but the one that fit him best seemed to be Evocation.
Evocation spells were the most numerous. The Draconic Bloodline came with innate elemental affinity, which could greatly enhance the power of Evocation spells.
That way, each time he leveled up, he could learn two spells—one from Evocation and one from another school—making his options even more versatile.
After he confirmed the choice with his mind, the spherical mark suddenly burst apart, transforming into an energy sphere that seemed almost tangible, with multicolored elements surging endlessly within it.
[Arcane Resonance: Evocation. You have gained Evocation Spell Specialization.]
Spell Specialization. His heart skipped a beat as he carefully savored the term.
It should be some kind of passive ability. Perhaps he would handle Evocation spells more smoothly, but the exact effects could only be explored gradually in the future.
'What spell should I choose?'
He lightly tapped the elemental energy sphere. Dozens of elemental sprites leapt out from it, dazzling in color, dancing lightly around his consciousness.
Each sprite represented a spell, including all first- and second-level Evocation spells.
He was level 3 now, so he could choose three spells.
There were probably a dozen or so 2nd-level Evocation spells, so the range of choices was not very large. After thinking it over for a moment, he chose "Scorching Ray."
Scorching Ray required no material components. Its base range was 36 meters, and with the bonuses from attributes and feats, it exceeded 72 meters.
It could fire three rays of fire at one or more targets. Each ray dealt 2d6 (2–12) fire damage; three rays meant 6–36—extremely violent.
Most importantly, ray-type spells had trajectories that were absurdly fast. As long as the aim was accurate, enemies would find them hard to dodge.
In Faerûn, there were Wizards who specialized in ray-type spells—uncommon, but extremely troublesome.
After he made his selection, most of the elemental sprites around him dispersed, leaving only 1st-level spells.
'Looks like I can't cheat.' He had been thinking about whether he could pick three 2nd-level spells.
After thinking for a moment, he chose "Faerie Fire" and "Divine Smite."
The former was a Bard and Druid spell; the latter was a Paladin's signature ability.
Most spells of the Evocation school were offensive spells, and Faerie Fire was one of the rare utility spells.
It could release a magical glow covering 6 meters, outlining the contours of every object in the area in colored light for one minute. Affected objects and creatures would shed dim light in a 3-meter radius.
This was an anti-invisibility spell that applied a magical mark, and it was highly practical.
As for Divine Smite, there was no need to say more—its reputation was well-known.
It was instantaneous, attached to a melee weapon or the body, adding 2d8 (2–16) radiant damage to an attack. If the target was a fiend or an undead creature, the damage increased by 1d8 (1–8).
The reason he had "secretly learned" this was not out of some perverse amusement, nor to pretend to be a Paladin, but to make up for his own shortcoming of being weak in melee combat.
He had Alter Self. If he could add Divine Smite onto his claws, an ordinary assassin would not be able to take many hits from him.
Just imagining that scene was pretty interesting.
In any case, he already had enough 1st-level attack spells. What harm was there in trying?
As he confirmed it with his will, the magic power around his body surged without end, and multicolored radiance rose in his eyes.
Segments of knowledge and memories related to Evocation spells churned through his mind. Insight welled up like a spring: he could not fully understand the principles and mysteries behind these spells, yet he could use them proficiently.
After a long while, he raised his right hand. Platinum-white holy magic rose from his palm; judging by the color, it was not the same as Rand's Divine Smite.
That was normal. Paladins of different oaths or faiths would imbue Divine Smite with unique colors.
'I've gotten stronger again. Should I find time to learn some swordsmanship from Bratt?'
Many feats and skills could be mastered through training and study. A Sorcerer's time was plentiful, but it was best to have a professional to teach—self-study could easily go off track, and correcting it later would be even more troublesome.
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