The equipment section of the character sheet now contained a total of four magic items, two of which were shrouded in a layer of black-red shadowy light.
These were the Wight's bow and battle blade—Common-quality magic items, yet bearing the same curse.
Weakening Curse: The user must forcibly make one medium-difficulty (18) Constitution saving throw each day. On a failure, they suffer Umbral Corrosion, taking damage to their Hit Points and reducing their maximum Hit Points by 1.
'Useless.' Anser sighed inwardly.
Umbral damage acts directly on a target's vitality, triggering disease, curses, or reductions to maximum Hit Points. Minor cases can be recovered through the body's own healing, while severe cases may cause permanent damage.
If someone who did not understand the truth were to use a weapon bearing the Weakening Curse, they would grow weaker and weaker over time.
The other two magic items were comparatively normal: a hand-and-a-half sword, and a silver goblet.
The hand-and-a-half sword was the Amn captain's weapon, named the Silent Sword, of Fine quality, with the traits Tenacious and Windcleave.
Windcleave was relatively rare, allowing the longsword to be swung almost silently, with faster slashing speed.
This sword was very valuable. Fighter weapons were always in short supply, but he would not sell it for the time being.
What surprised Anser the most was the silver goblet that shimmered with fragmented gold-white light.
[Magic Item: Chalice of Guardianship]
Category: Wondrous Item
Rarity: Rare
This was a sacred item from the Church of the God of Protection, containing pure power of light.
Awakening Aura: When resisting mind-affecting spells such as Sleep, Suggestion, and Confusion, gain a +2 bonus to saving throws.
Guardian Radiance: When activated, releases a blaze-like burst of brilliance within a designated area, dealing 1d8 (1–8) radiant damage. If the target is a fiend or undead creature, the damage increases by 1d8.
Each charge covers an area of 1.5 meters square. For every additional 10 charges expended, an extra 1d8 radiant damage is dealt, to a maximum of 3d8 (3–24).
Current Charges: 0/30.
When worn close to the body, each time you perform an act of vigilance, protection, or keeping promises that is "active and self-initiated," the chalice resonates with the domains of life and light, granting 1 charge.
Followers of Helm can gain an additional 1 charge per day.
'Helm?'
Anser took out the chalice and gave it a brief wipe. Sure enough, at the bottom he found Helm's iron gauntlet holy symbol.
Helm is the god of vigilance and protection, presiding over the Life and Light domains, guiding followers to remain alert, clear-minded, and faithful to their promises.
'Very strong, very demanding.' Anser did not know how else to describe this sacred relic.
At full charges, its damage is the same as Chromatic Orb, but Chromatic Orb is single-target damage, while Guardian Radiance can cover an area up to 45 meters in diameter. The difference is far from small.
The key point is that it also does not require Attunement. Simply possessing it allows its use, but it is very difficult for ordinary people to bring out its core traits.
"Active and self-initiated" means that from motivation to outcome, everything must meet the requirements. Motivation even takes precedence over the result; stumbling into it by accident does not count.
But if someone keeps acting according to the chalice's requirements over a long period of time, would that not turn them into a follower of Helm?
'Who knows who came up with this chalice—so many hidden calculations.'
'The Awakening Aura is not bad either. It will do.'
He tied the chalice to a necklace and tucked it into the cloak together with the holy symbol.
These items were all spoils from battles he had fought alone and were entirely his to dispose of.
The Amn people were very wealthy. The weapons and equipment thrown into the lake were certainly not bad, but he did not plan to salvage them. The other side had companions; there would be opportunities later.
Or he could take some time to make a treasure map. Selling a treasure map would not be bad either.
...
As daylight brightened, the group formed a long line and advanced across the wilderness.
Several dozen people traveled with their families, burdened with large and small packs, filthy all over, as if fleeing from disaster.
The person at the front rode a black steed over two meters tall, wearing a black cloak, occasionally galloping up to some high ground to stop and look around.
But the wilderness stretched endlessly, with no obvious landmarks, making accurate positioning very difficult.
Anser let out a sigh and casually stuffed the map in hand into the backpack.
Guiding the way should be left to Finn in the future. He really could not handle it. Even when playing games, he could still get lost while following a three-dimensional map with positioning, let alone in this kind of high-difficulty scenario.
At this moment, Emon caught up from behind and waved to him from a distance.
Anser lightly patted the horse's back. Nornoth turned and went downhill, trotting over in small steps.
"Anser, no one is chasing us, right?"
"No."
"That's good. How about we part ways here? Our people can't keep going and need to rest for half a day." Emon did not want to use Bratt's connections to burden Anser.
Anser is a spellcaster. Time for a spellcaster is not on the same scale as time for ordinary people.
"Let's rest as well. Take a short nap, then move on." Anser nodded.
"Alright."
Watching Emon busy himself—setting up camp, calming people down, and cooking—Anser could not help but feel a sense of emotion.
Everyone has their own choices. In this life, he only wanted to be responsible to himself.
In his previous life, many people talked about owing this or owing that, but in reality, the one they owed the most was themselves.
Anser waved to Bratt and the other person, and the few of them found another dry high ground.
This time they did not cook. The three sat side by side, each holding a bag of emergency rations.
Emergency rations were a kind of mixed, loose food made by combining cheese, cured sausage, pickled meat, dried fruit, salted crackers, and the like. They were not bad to eat.
After a night of turmoil, everyone was hungry and ate with relish.
"Thank you, Anser," Bratt suddenly said.
Anser smiled but did not reply.
From the process alone, he had helped Bratt a great deal, but each risk had been very small. Yet at Wyrm's Crossing, when the javelin was thrown, Bratt had stood firmly in front of him despite knowing he might die.
How many people could do that?
"Do you want the Aircleaver Sword? It should be a bit better than the one you have." He changed the subject.
"I'm not used to hand-and-a-half swords." Bratt shook his head. "Sword and shield suits me better."
His fighting style was "interception." He was accustomed to using a one-handed sword; neither shields nor throwing axes were his strong points.
"Teach me some close-combat techniques later—unarmed, short blades, or longswords." Anser's Alter Self was more suited to close-quarters combat.
The Sorcerer class itself already possessed basic proficiency with simple weapons—daggers, quarterstaffs, sickles, and the like—so learning military weapons or unarmed fighting would not be too difficult.
"Sure." Bratt agreed without hesitation.
As they were speaking, an eagle's cry rang out in the sky. Finn's movements paused, and his eyes became vacant.
After a long moment, he turned to Anser. "A group has come out of Cloakwood. There are several wagons with carriages. Direction… Giant Red Elk Village."
"Nashivaar." Anser suddenly recalled the threat made by that Amn man before his death.
"Nashivaar?" Bratt said in surprise. "One of Amn's Five Great Families, the Nashivaar?"
"Probably." Anser knew of Amn's Council of Five Elders, but did not know exactly which five families they were.
"The Nashivaar control Esmeltaran, focusing on mining and the slave trade. Their reach extends across half of the Sword Coast, and they are very powerful. We need to be careful. The Nashivaar are vindictive."
Bratt had lived in Amn for some time and understood better the arrogance and greed of the Council of Five Elders.
There were no secrets in this world. Even the dead and the undead could speak. Being discovered was only a matter of time.
"Let them come. Just a bunch of slave traders." Anser spoke harshly, but inwardly he became more alert.
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