'Didn't choose wrong!' Anser's lips curled into a broad smile.
True dragon power did not merely enhance his attributes—it also granted him numerous abilities possessed only by true dragons.
Attributes: Charisma +1, Constitution +1
Skills: Perception +1, Stealth +1
Resistance: Cold, Fire
Trait: Amphibious
In addition, he gained the ability to freely transform. He could assume a half-dragon form, or transform only parts such as his head or claws.
After transforming, he gained melee attack capability, increased swimming speed, and two supernatural abilities: Cold Breath and Fire Breath.
The breath weapon dealt 4d10 (4–40) elemental damage to each creature within a 4.5-meter cone. It could be used five times per day, recharging through physiological recovery.
This was merely a weakened version of a wyrmling. A true gold dragon wyrmling surpassed him in every aspect—Armor Class, Initiative, Hit Points, attributes, saving throws. They were even immune to fire, whereas in his case it had been reduced to resistance.
But he was a Sorcerer. The class features and spells he commanded were not something a wyrmling possessed.
'Strong. Even if the attributes are a bit lower, so be it.'
After all, he bore dual bloodlines and had awakened two kinds of true dragon power at the same time. Although there was some overlap, the overall enhancement should be higher than expected.
Sensing the vigorous life force and astonishing vitality surging within his body, Anser's thoughts stirred: 'Has my lifespan increased as well?'
That was difficult to verify, but it was something to look forward to.
"Are you alright?" Bratt asked softly.
"Oh, I'm fine. Just practiced a new spell." Anser smiled as he rose to his feet, making up a plausible excuse.
At the side, Tim remained silent, his gaze vacant. He searched his memory for a long while, but could not recall any spell capable of turning someone into a dragon.
"Hey, that half-dragon seems to have come back?" Sandray pointed toward the bridgehead with his short sword.
Bratt chuckled. "You transformed and let out a dragon's roar just now—that scared him off. Those kobolds had no idea what was going on and ran with him…"
Anser looked up. The half-dragon stood in the distant shadows, staring this way without moving. "He seems… angry."
"Probably feels like he was played for a fool?" Tim said with a light laugh.
"Quite the patience." Anser let out a faint chuckle.
This was a half-dragon of green dragon lineage. Had it been red or black dragon blood, he would have already leapt over and started fighting.
In truth, after transforming, Anser looked nearly identical to a half-dragon. Impersonating one would pose no problem—perhaps he could even bluff them.
However, that might be even more dangerous. His scales were clearly those of a metallic dragon—an unmistakable mortal enemy.
He took out his pocket watch and snapped it open. The hands had already passed two o'clock.
By his calculation, Salian and the others had left six hours ago. They should have already departed Claw Bay.
"We can start preparing to retreat." He looked toward Tim.
Tim's expression stiffened. He turned to look at the large number of civilians who still hadn't evacuated, his eyes full of reluctance. "They haven't attacked again. How about… we wait a little longer?"
"It's the Summer Tide month. It gets light a little after five. If we leave at three and want to cross the peninsula and the bay within two hours, the schedule is extremely tight." Anser gave a slight shake of his head.
It wasn't that he was cold-blooded—once day broke, the wyverns would definitely come. No matter how confident he was, he didn't believe he could defeat a whole group of wyverns.
Tim fell silent for a moment, then let out a sigh. "I'll send people to make the arrangements right away."
"Mm. As soon as possible." He slipped back into the crenellation again, doing his best to confuse the half-dragon.
Time quietly passed, and soon it was three in the morning.
Most of the civilians inside the original city walls had been transported away. Tim dismantled quite a few boats and hastily built many small skiffs, sending them into the waterway to ferry civilians. The results were actually pretty good.
All the civilians outside the city walls had crowded into the castle. They had just learned that there was an underground waterway, and the mood was not bad.
The lights atop the wall were dim, and half the guards had been quietly rotated out. Anser and the others were already at the underground waterway entrance. Nornoth was too large and had been sent back to the Feywild in advance.
Tim brought more than thirty guards with him. Sympathy was sympathy, but he was still afraid of dying—staying with Anser was obviously much safer.
The remaining hundred-plus militia and guards were doomed men. They were responsible for misleading the enemy and delaying as much as possible for the lord and his family. They would save as many as they could.
If it truly came to it, they would fall back into the main keep, then the basement, and finally the waterway. Clinging to planks and hiding in the channel still gave them a better chance of survival than staying in the castle.
In the dim waterway, Tim swung his arm hard. "Move!"
Five small boats rushed into the channel one after another. The guards rowed with all their strength, and the boats picked up more and more speed.
The channel was dark and winding. At each bend, glowstones were inlaid to help guide the route.
The guards were clearly very familiar with this place. Even though the channel was narrow, they didn't crash into the walls.
The atmosphere was somewhat oppressive. Almost no one spoke, and time passed slowly.
About a little over an hour later, a point of light appeared ahead. One after another, the boats passed out through the opening and emerged onto a broad expanse of water.
Moonlight spilled down, the surface glittering with ripples—silent and serene.
The opening was hidden in the middle of a stretch of docks. It was very well-concealed, with many boats around, making it truly convenient for evacuation.
"A big ship would be too conspicuous. Let's take rowing boats," Tim suggested.
"Take that one." Anser pointed at a small keelboat with a broken mast. "Squeeze in—we can all fit."
"Th-that… won't be easy to row."
Anser didn't answer him. He pressed a hand to his holy symbol. The air ahead rippled, and Nornoth's figure appeared out of thin air, striding across the water's surface to arrive before him.
It leaned in close and kept sniffing at Anser, its eyes puzzled. It always felt like its master had changed somehow.
Anser pushed it away irritably, fastened a rope to the bow, then swung himself onto the horse and tied the other end to the saddle.
Tim understood at once and hurriedly arranged for everyone to board, his gaze repeatedly sweeping over Nornoth.
"Move!"
Nornoth slowly exerted force, and even the water beneath its feet sank slightly.
Tim directed the guards to row in unison. With both sides coordinating, the boat's speed quickly increased, faster and faster, trailing a line of white spray.
At this time, the sky was already paling, and visibility was high.
The kobolds on the shore quickly noticed the scene and shouted noisily, but they did not choose to enter the water.
"Head for Bluewater City!" Tim shouted, pointing at the largest dock diagonally across the shore.
Anser had never heard the name, but the bay was not large. Along most of the coast there were no visible city walls; only Bluewater City had a ring of low walls. Lights dotted the city within, and it appeared much larger than Cliff City.
The bay stretched long from north to south, but from east to west it was no more than three or four kilometers.
Yet just as they had passed the halfway point, the southern entrance of the bay suddenly churned. Chaotic white waves rapidly spread in this direction.
"Fish-men!" Tim's expression changed slightly as he said in a low voice, "Row faster—row faster—"
"Sit tight. Don't fall overboard." Anser lightly patted Nornoth, urging it to increase speed.
He quickly estimated that they had enough time to make landfall. However, the docks were open and offered nowhere to hide. If the fish-men came ashore in pursuit, a fight would be unavoidable.
Giant Tail sat in the middle, shield in one hand and club in the other, brimming with fighting spirit. He was exceptionally adept at dealing with fish-men—he could take them down one by one with a single claw, even without weapons.
Lizardfolk were also strong swimmers.
The two sides drew closer and closer. Just before the fish-men arrived, the small boat completed a hard landing. One side of the hull shattered completely, and several guards were thrown into the water. Fortunately, all were rescued in time.
"Pull back from the shore! Defensive formation!" Tim shouted loudly.
More than thirty guards, well-trained and disciplined, pressed their shields together and swiftly formed a semicircular defensive ring, surrounding Tim, Bratt, and the others as they retreated slowly.
"You fall back too." Anser called out to Giant Tail, then turned to stare at the surging waves. Within them, the fish-men could be seen faintly.
'Controlling the waves? That won't work on me.'
Magic Power surged around him as he focused on casting.
"ફાયરબોલકલા"
Metamagic: Transmuted Spell (Lightning) + Fireball!
'Take this—Lightning Orb!'
A bright flash shot from his fingertips, skimming across dozens of meters of sea surface in an instant before slamming into the waves and detonating.
The water below flared with light. Steam billowed upward. No one could tell how far the lightning traveled through the seawater—only that this time the sea truly "boiled"!
The fish-men on the outer edge leapt out of the water one after another. Those in the inner circle had no strength left to leap. After quite a while, clusters of fish-men floated up, bellies upward—a spectacular sight.
'Stunned by the shock, I suppose. Not many are dead.'
Anser was not entirely satisfied. He felt that the seawater must have dispersed the spell's power.
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