The Warlock had probably fought a rather frustrating battle—he hadn't managed to launch a single meaningful counterattack from start to finish.
Anser had kept his distance the entire time, so he couldn't judge the Warlock's spellcasting ability, nor whether he had any powerful trump cards.
But none of that mattered now.
'Melee and psionics—both are indispensable!' he sighed.
If he ever ended up in a rare dead magic zone where spells failed, he might end up even worse off than that Warlock. At that point, any high-level martial class could easily crush him.
Looking down, he saw that more and more onlookers had gathered. Some wanted to enter the Burrows district, but a group of halflings was blocking the way.
Not wanting complications, he immediately descended and landed beside the Warlock's corpse. The stone ground was coated in a layer of black ash, and the burnt smell was sharp and unpleasant.
The body was no longer human in shape—twisted, charred, completely unrecognizable.
In one claw-like, shriveled hand, it clutched a set of tarot cards. Every single card was pristine and intact, completely undamaged.
Under an attack of that intensity, even lower-quality magic items would have been destroyed. The fact that these remained unscathed meant they were anything but ordinary.
Anser's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't reach for them immediately. Instead, he took out the Rod of Security and teleported the corpse into the Black Tower prison.
Then he checked the surroundings once more. Only after confirming nothing had been left behind did he turn to meet the three approaching halflings—one of whom was Alton.
"Fabian, who were those people?" Alton asked with concern. There was no blame in his tone—he was just worried they might bring trouble to the Burrows district.
"I don't know them." Anser shook his head slightly. "I suspect they're star pirates. Can you help look into it?"
If they really were star pirates, they must frequently dock at the Rock of Bral. Even if locals didn't know them personally, they should have at least seen them before.
Alton nodded in realization. "No wonder. They said they were chasing you, but couldn't even name you. Just kept pressuring me for answers."
The other two halflings exchanged glances, their expressions easing considerably.
They didn't know Anser or his intentions. If he had deliberately lured enemies here, the halflings wouldn't have taken it lightly.
"Sorry for dragging you into this. I'll compensate your losses at double the amount," Anser said apologetically. The situation had developed suddenly—his priority had been his own safety.
Alton's eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together. "Oh, that's too generous, haha…"
To be honest, he had felt some resentment while being interrogated. But as the battle unfolded, that resentment had completely vanished, replaced by deep awe and wariness.
If Anser had simply left afterward, Alton wouldn't have dared stop him.
"Mr. Fabian," one of the short-bearded halflings coughed lightly, his gaze fixed on Anser with scrutiny, "you came from Faerûn. How did you end up attracting star pirates?"
Anser spread his hands helplessly. "I'd like to know myself. Today was my first time leaving the Faerûn continent. I spent a short time in the Astral Plane, and when I tried to teleport back, something went wrong."
"Mm." The short-bearded halfling stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I'll send people to investigate the docks right away. If they're really star pirates, they won't get far."
"Thank you." Anser nodded.
"This is the guardian of the Burrows community—Osborn High-hill. He wasn't around earlier, otherwise those people would never have dared act so brazenly…" Alton said indignantly.
The short-bearded halfling's left hand brushed the short sword at his waist, his expression slightly awkward.
At that moment, the dice spun rapidly and revealed the halfling's information:
[Osborn High-hill, Halfling, Level 16 Rogue (Thief)]
"Of course, of course," Anser agreed verbally, though inwardly he found it amusing.
Rogues had excellent survivability, but their frontal combat strength was honestly quite mediocre. Against that level 15 orc barbarian, Osborn would have had no choice but to run.
Still, the Rock of Bral truly lived up to its reputation as a major hub in Realmspace. The average level of professionals was remarkably high—just a community leader was already a high-level adventurer.
"Ahem. This isn't a good place to talk. Come, let's move somewhere else." Osborn clearly couldn't stand Alton's chatter any longer. He called out and turned to leave.
"Oh, right—we haven't eaten yet…" Alton seemed completely unaffected by the earlier interrogation, his mood optimistic as he muttered about what to have for dinner.
Anser silently praised his attitude. Good thing he had come to the Burrows district—anywhere else might have caused trouble.
He was brought to Osborn's home—a burrow even more spacious than the Burrows tavern, with an entire room dedicated to storing food and alcohol.
At first, he didn't understand why.
Then more and more people arrived.
In the end, over thirty halflings started a full-blown party—lively and noisy.
Anser felt it was somewhat inappropriate, but didn't want to spoil the mood.
The party went on for quite a while. Halfway through, he used his poor condition as an excuse to leave, claiming he needed to meditate, and returned alone to the room Osborn had arranged for him.
After Maeve cast Arcane Lock and Alarm on the door, he immediately teleported to the Black Tower prison.
Inside a spacious black stone cell, four corpses of professionals were laid out in a row. Aside from the Warlock, the other three bodies were intact, covered in frost and emitting a chilling aura.
"Why did you have to pick a fight with me?" Anser sighed.
He walked over to the Warlock and focused his gaze on the tarot cards in his hand.
'Deck of Many Things?'
He shook his head with a chuckle, dismissing the idea.
This was clearly an arcane device. No one would use the Deck of Many Things in combat.
He stared at the tarot cards for a long time. The dice kept spinning, but failed to detect any useful information—not even a name.
His heart began pounding uncontrollably as a certain possibility crossed his mind.
'This… could it be an Artifact? No way… that doesn't make sense.'
How could someone possessing an Artifact die so miserably? It was an Artifact, after all.
"Do you recognize it?" he asked, turning to Maeve.
Maeve was sprawled across the spellbook, her tail drooping. Half-asleep, she muttered, "Meow… don't know. Fighting is so tiring… I need to rest…"
As she spoke, she slowly drifted away and soon disappeared through the doorway.
"Uh, you…" Anser opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say.
Maeve had only cast Mage Armor twice during the entire fight. He had no idea what she was so tired from.
Shaking his head, he decided to gather the rest of the spoils first. He set the tarot cards aside for now.
Many of the Warlock's belongings had been destroyed—his black robe, his Bag of Holding, and so on. Especially the Bag of Holding. It was incredibly useful, but extremely fragile. Once overloaded, pierced, or torn, it would be destroyed, and everything inside would be scattered across the Astral Plane.
Holding the torn remnants of the bag, Anser felt a deep ache in his chest.
'I need a single-target spell—something that locks on!'
He took several deep breaths, trying not to think about how many valuable items had been inside.
Certainly not crates of gemstones, potions, weapons, equipment, and legendary items…
He stripped the Warlock and searched carefully, but only found two items: a black forehead ornament and a patch of black skin adhered to the forearm.
The dice quickly identified them—an Ethereal Amulet and a Demon Skin, both of Rare quality.
When he read the Demon Skin's information, his face immediately lit up with joy.
This was a spatial storage item!
'Not bad, not bad. The important stuff must be stored in here.' That wasn't speculation—any sensible person would do the same.
...
Magic Item: Ethereal Amulet
Category: Wondrous Item
Rarity: Rare (requires attunement)
A talisman shaped like a black eye, its primary material unknown. After attuning to it, the user gains the ability to walk the Ethereal.
Ethereal Walk:
You enter the overlapping boundary between your current plane and the Ethereal Plane and can move freely within it for up to 10 minutes.
While in Ethereal Walk, you can observe the original plane with a range of 18 meters, but everything appears in varying shades of gray.
If you cut open the skin of your forehead and embed the amulet into it, you can activate Ethereal Walk instantly through your own reaction.
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