From the mosquito at Charles's ear, Andny's concerned message came through. He quickly rolled to his feet, checked his surroundings, and, after confirming there were no foes nearby, breathed a sigh of relief, sent them a report of his safety, and assigned the tasks as previously planned.
Only after this did he end the communication. Ignoring the filth on his body, he took out his Spellbook from his belt pouch and spent one of its charges. With a 1st-level Cure Wounds cast on himself, both his shoulder and back wounds healed completely.
After all, Ilthreza was just an elf—in her early days a mage who didn't enjoy physical training, so her physical stamina wasn't especially great.
Unlike Charles, she couldn't use mana to empower her sword skills. Even relying on the force of her eight spider legs and spider-silk slingshot, all she had done was break through his Shield and Mage Armor protection, only giving him some superficial wounds.
She, who knew her physical weakness, always smeared deadly poison on her blades, so that even minor wounds could prove fatal.
But unfortunately for her, Charles was immune to toxins.
Thus, the injuries from the two slashes were easily healed with a single basic Cure Wounds.
Satisfied with his self-healing, Charles, recalling Ilthreza's fierce onslaught, could not help a lingering worry. He had to admit that this female elf was truly ferocious.
Biting down, he immediately stacked new protections—False Life and Armor of Agathys at third level, instantly burning through ten spell slots. Only then did he feel a measure of security.
Of course, this left him with only fourteen spell slots. If another fierce battle came, that reserve might prove insufficient.
In such a situation, moving alone wasn't safe. He needed to reunite with the witches as quickly as possible!
With that thought, he resummoned his magical longsword ablaze with fire, banished his distractions, and began searching for a way to rejoin the others.
But, in truth, he had little choice. The cave-in had left him at the end of a dead-end tunnel, so there was nowhere to go but forward.
In a way, that was fine—no need to agonize over choices.
With a wry smile at his circumstances, he steeled himself, crouched low, lowered his center of gravity, and advanced carefully.
The cavern was eerily quiet, which made sneak attacks by foes all the more difficult. Charles quickened his steps, and soon heard the deep, masculine roar of some creature ahead: "Die, you worthless undead—damn you!"
The voice was strong, full-bodied—a grown, burly male for certain. Charles's eyes lit up. He dashed toward the voice with renewed speed.
He soon found a great, thick, mighty minotaur pinned beneath a massive boulder. Two ghouls prowled nearby, jaws wide, drool dripping, gluttonous interest all over their faces.
The minotaur, unable to move, could only swing his axe at the ghouls, cursing and raving in helpless fury.
Charles couldn't help but smile.
Perfect—an ideal moment for the hero to save the bull.
With this in mind, he briskly stepped forward and thumped his flaming sword against his shield. "Hey! Over here—over here!"
He shouted at the ghouls, though there was little need. Catching the scent of the living, both instantly turned toward him, charging: "Grrraah—!"
The first ghoul lunged. Rather than attack, Charles dismissed his longsword, twisted aside with his shield to deflect the pounce, and pinned the creature to the ground, his right hand pressing on its wrist: "Purified!"
A brilliant white light shone forth—the ghoul thrashed and struggled even harder. This time, Charles was ready; he kept the ghoul pinned with his weight, not giving it a chance to break free—
"Hiss—!"
The second ghoul leapt on him from behind, its teeth clamping onto Charles's ankle—
Crunch—
The third-level Armor of Agathys triggered. The ghoul's jaws instantly froze over with a shell of ice, but the creature, heedless, kept clawing frantically at Charles's hips and thighs—
Its arms soon froze solid as well, rendering it barely able to move.
Charles kept the first ghoul pinned until it was completely purified, then turned and pressed down the second, half-dead and frozen, and repeated the purification.
A few seconds later, four hundred Purification Points were safely added to his tally.
"Whew…"
Charles exhaled, got up, turned toward the still-pinned minotaur, and flashed his brightest, friendliest smile. "Hello, I'm Nigel Charles. Are you also an adventurer here to slay the undead?"
At the same time, Charles remained cautious—this minotaur's primitive, rugged appearance marked him as one of the Mountain People.
And such folk weren't always friendly.
He observed as the minotaur stared at him with an unreadable expression. Charles felt a pang of foreboding, but then the creature broke into a simple, honest smile: "Thank you, honorable paladin! My name is Torun Highmountain, just a warrior from the Highmountain Tribes. I came to the Tide Caverns at the dwarves' invitation, to help clear out the undead."
Clearly, having seen the white purifying light, Torun (like Nidalee before him) had mistaken Charles for a paladin.
"Unfortunately, as you see, we encountered a quake." Torun's face darkened. "I was separated from my comrades and then got my leg trapped by this stone. If you hadn't arrived, I would've died to those ghouls."
"I truly don't know how I can ever repay your kindness!"
He sighed deeply, but Charles only gave a soft laugh. "It wasn't that big a deal. Those ghouls weren't strong; I think you could have managed them alone."
He paused, then continued, "Let me ask: would you be willing to team up with me—help find your lost allies and take down the mastermind here?"
"Of course!" Torun replied eagerly, "To journey with a paladin from the great Empire of Sein is my honor!"
Charles raised his brows—these mountain folk have quite a positive view of the Empire of Sein?
Well, for now, that was nothing but good news. At least he wouldn't be facing danger alone; if ambushed, he'd have a reliable comrade to fight back-to-back.
"Are you hurt? Let me treat you."
He stepped forward, stretching out his arms to move the boulder off Torun's lower body.
But the stone didn't budge an inch.
Charles couldn't help but look a bit awkward—he could channel magic into weapons, but his raw physical strength was much, much lower than average.
"Allow me, my lord." Torun said, bent himself, wrapped his thick arms around the boulder, clenched his jaw, and, veins bulging in his forehead, heaved—finally managing to roll the stone off his legs and to the side.
Staring at arms thicker than his thighs, Charles glanced down at his own slim wrists, feeling a surge of self-consciousness.
He thought, Once I've amassed enough Purification Points, I need to buff all my attributes a good bit! Put everything at fifteen—make myself a real juggernaut!
He then leaned down to check Torun's injured leg, pulled out his Spellbook, and cast "Cure Wounds."
The broken bone knit together swiftly—within seconds, it had rejoined. Though still somewhat tender and in need of rest, he could now walk and fight without issue.
Torun, delighted at the restoration, exclaimed, "Thank you, revered paladin. I feel truly unworthy next to someone like you!"
He got up, patted the dust from himself, reclaimed his weapon, and flexed with fresh vigor.
Charles chuckled. Even he, after so much praise, couldn't help but feel a little pleased. "Do you often team up with adventurers from the lowlands, like me?"
Torun paused, then nodded. "Yes, many come to the mountains, so it happens often. Especially those from the Empire of Sein—every encounter is enlightening!"
"So, I really cherish this chance, my lord!"
He resumed his praise, but this time Charles felt a bit uncomfortable.
Were the Mountain People always this effusive? Or was it just their way to use such over-the-top flattery?
Charles didn't know, but he decided not to think about Torun's style and went straight to the point: "Come on, Torun, let's find your comrades!"
...
Meanwhile, deeper in the cavern.
"Ugh—"
Anno shook her head, barely regaining consciousness. The recent quake had left her battered and sore—a few rocks hit her, luck keeping any from her head, so she was mostly unharmed.
She forced her eyes open and peered around—by now the magic stone hanging from the ceiling was out, and she could only make out dark, fuzzy shapes.
Somewhere in that darkness, she heard the sound of Bonnie's sobbing.
She quickly called out, "Bonnie? Oda? Dahl? Are you alright?"
Oda was the gnome; Dahl, the Dragonborn barbarian. Neither answered—perhaps they'd fallen unconscious again, or perhaps they were already lost.
Bonnie, meanwhile, kept weeping, unable to accept her condition. "How can I ever face my husband like this…"
Anno looked in the direction of the voice and saw Bonnie sprawled behind a pile of stone, her abdomen still swollen like a watermelon—a woman ten months pregnant, ready to give birth.
Anno's heart raced, her mind in turmoil, and she felt true sympathy for the married female warrior.
Still, there was nothing to be done. Softly, she tried to comfort her: "There will be a way, Bonnie. Don't worry, divine or arcane magic—someone will find a way to help."
Bonnie continued to sob, too lost in grief to be of use.
So, Anno would have to rely only on herself.
She tried to shift position, looking for a sharp stone to slice her bindings. But unfortunately, the quake had rolled her to a new spot—now only smooth pebbles surrounded her.
Damn!
She swore inwardly, took a deep breath, and forced herself to stay calm, analyzing the situation.
First, that tremor—it was over fast, so was clearly magical in origin.
And, given the Drider's earlier panic, it was obvious a new group had arrived in her lair. The dwarves, aiming to reclaim the mine, would never provoke a collapse on purpose.
Further, it had now been ages since the collapse, and the Drider had not returned to check if her eggs survived.
Most likely, the Drider realized she couldn't win and deliberately caused the collapse to create chaos and escape!
That had to be it!
Bolstered by her bold conclusion, Anno sucked in a breath and shouted, "Help! Somebody—help us!""
Her voice carried far. Though one passage had been blocked, other routes must still exist. Only by calling would there be hope of rescue!
For a while, there was no reply in the dark cavern. Heart pounding, Anno shouted again.
This time, at last, she detected movement. She felt vibrations in the spider webs—something massive was speeding closer. Soon, a familiar voice rang out: "Lady Anno, is that you?"
It was Andny's voice!
But… why her?
Wait—had Priest Charles come too?
A surge of hope filled Anno's heart. She called out, "It's me! We are here!"
A bright light shone from the cave's entrance, and the enormous shapes of several giant spiders barreled forward.
Only the spiders could cross so quickly over those sticky webbed floors. But Anno was unafraid—atop the leading two spiders, she spotted two petite figures.
One was the familiar, but not close, nun Andny.
But... she passed by and headed in another direction?
Anno was confused, when she saw that atop another giant spider rode a young woman—wheat-colored skin, long black ponytail, clothed only in a leather vest, shorts, and boots—aiming directly for her.
A Mountain People woman?
The thought flickered as she saw the woman's gaze, full of curiosity. The newcomer jumped down, drew a small knife, and cut away Anno's spider-silk bindings.
"Thank you," Anno greeted her. "I'm Anno Amcastra, a paladin in service to Blackstaff Tower. And you are—?"
"Nidalee." The woman replied without expression. "Recently became a nun of the Goddess of Life, also trained as a druid and part-time hunter."
Her tone was distant, but she took in every detail—Anno's looks, body, bearing, and gaze.
"I've heard Priest Charles mention you, Lady Anno," Nidalee went on as she finished freeing her, "I hope we'll cooperate well in the next battle."
Anno's eyes lit up. "Really? That's wonderful!"
She presumed Charles, a champion of the Goddess's church, would be delighted to have a new nun—even if she was a Mountain People woman. The idea made her genuinely happy for him.
And to think, Charles had spoken of her to the new nun...
Anno's cheeks turned pink. "What… what did Charles say about me?"
This was hardly the time for such a question, but with her heart pounding, Anno couldn't help asking.
Does he, like me, recall our memories? Does he mention me to the others?
If it were possible… she wanted to hide her face and squirm in embarrassment.
But watching Anno's bashful, radiant joy, a complex shade passed through Nidalee's eyes.
So, this is Master's romantic interest?
Hard to imagine, with such an emotional history. A journey I myself can never experience.
Still, such a delicate paladin girl—Master would surely never lay a whip to her, nor blindfold or gag her, nor drip candle wax across her back.
Her romantic experience, then, is incomplete—she has the sweetness of love, but lacks any of its fire or adventure…
With that, Nidalee felt more at ease.
Well, gain some, lose some.
"He only praised you—said you're a righteous and excellent female knight." Nidalee made light of it, then swung herself back atop her spider. "Wait 'til we meet up again—let him tell you himself. For now, saving people is most important!"
--------------------------------------
Enjoying the story? Get early access to 90+ Advanced Chapters!
👉 Support now: patreon.com/TransFic
--------------------------------------