The Mage Tower had no basement; the ground was too hard and difficult to excavate, so the storage room was located on the first floor for easy transport of supplies.
Anser had lived here for five years and was long since familiar with it. He squeezed through the broken door only to find that it had already been ransacked; the actions were crude, with items scattered everywhere.
'Damn, it must have been those Gray Dwarves.'
He cursed inwardly, but his movements were nimble as he quickly gathered useful supplies together.
Candles, a shovel, soap, water skins, ink, a stack of white paper, clothes, a telescope... there was nothing of great value, but they were very useful for someone about to flee.
After packing a large bag, he casually left it in the hall.
However, he couldn't find the rope he needed most.
He had no choice but to steel himself and run upstairs. Dormitories, the kitchen, the alchemy lab, the meditation room... most rooms had been subjected to a destructive search, though not a thorough one. Familiar with the environment, he actually found quite a few good things.
Several coin purses, two spellbooks, some food, and a bundle of rope. The most valuable find was a spare staff from Fabian's room.
'The Gray Dwarves don't know quality; or maybe it was searched by those brainless Goblins and orc slaves. Pity I didn't find Fabian's secret treasure chest.'
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The staff was a full six feet long. When propped on the ground, it was nearly as tall as Anser. It looked like a simple grayish-green stick with dim patterns on the surface, very inconspicuous.
He didn't know The spell Identify and couldn't immediately know its properties or how to use it, but he could use it as a conventional focus for Spellcasting.
His mentor, Fabian, once said he would reward this staff to the apprentice who performed the best. A single empty promise had turned a group of people into overdriven workhorses—the kind that paid for the privilege of working.
How ridiculous!
Among the dozens of apprentices in the Mage Tower, most had little potential. Some were unaware of this, some harbored ulterior motives, but most were simply unwilling to accept their lot.
To please Fabian and compete for limited resources, the apprentices fought constantly, often plotting against each other for the position of teaching assistant or procurement officer, unaware that these were all Fabian's little schemes.
Anser suddenly thought of Gauss, the First Assistant who had framed the original owner of this body. If they met, he wouldn't mind killing him and rightfully "inheriting" Fabian's relics.
He shook his head, clearing the chaotic thoughts. He changed into new clothes and boots found in his own room, then packed the valuables into a black leather backpack, carrying it on his back along with the staff.
He bundled the other sundries together and hid them in a corner outside the Mage Tower, planning to retrieve them later.
He took the rope to the edge of the massive pit and peered down. It was pitch black below; he couldn't see anything clearly.
Having no other choice, he pulled a glowing stick from the side of his backpack, uncovered a corner of the black cloth to wave it, and then immediately wrapped it tight again.
"I'm here, I'm here!"
Blatt's voice came from below, his tone carrying an irrepressible joy.
Anser scanned the area with the rope and realized that directly above the stone pillar was not a good position.
After the collapse of Brampton District and Eastway District, the Chongsa River had breached its banks. The mighty river water poured into the pit from the southwest, forming various waterfalls. Even after a day, the flow had only slightly diminished.
Blatt's current position was poor; coming straight up would mean facing the impact of the water, which would be exhausting.
Anser avoided that section. After moving a dozen meters sideways, he secured the rope to a thick, broken tree stump.
"Watch the rope!"
With that, he threw the rope forcefully toward Blatt's direction.
A few seconds later, the rope went taut, and Blatt's response came from below:
"I've got it! You don't need to pull, I'll climb myself."
"Fine." Anser gave a faint smile. The other man was likely worried about the rope fraying if it were pulled.
He pulled over a prepared tattered blanket and cushioned the spot where the rope hung down to prevent the stones from wearing through the hemp.
A few minutes later, Blatt's figure appeared in Anser's sight.
He used a belt, buckles, and the rope to create a safety rig. The rope buckle at his waist looked professional, tightening quickly with every step up. His pace wasn't fast, but it was safe; when tired, he could hang halfway on the rock wall to catch his breath for a few seconds.
For the last few meters, Anser didn't go forward to help. Instead, he stepped back a few paces, watching him climb up and roll onto the ground, panting heavily.
"Thanks, so... tired..." Blatt brushed away the messy hair from his face, revealing a lean countenance. His lips were pale, and his emerald-green eyes were quite striking.
He hadn't been as lucky as Anser. After the water flow shifted, he had been drenched for a long time, losing stamina. He was both exhausted and starving.
"Very professional. An Adventurer?" Anser looked him up and down.
"I used to be. Before last night, I was the Captain of the Guard at Portside Hospital. A Level 2 Fighter." As he spoke, Blatt struggled to his feet, undid the buckles, and coiled the rope loop by loop to put it away.
"Then your luck is quite good," Anser remarked.
Portside Hospital wasn't far from the Mage Tower and had already vanished from the surface. In the face of a disaster of this scale, Professionals were no different from ordinary people; surviving definitely required a bit of luck.
"Meeting you was the real stroke of luck. I owe you my life." Blatt's expression was sincere, and his eyes couldn't help but focus on Anser's face.
Those were tiny dragon scales, gleaming with an extremely faint metallic luster under the moonlight, only noticeable when close.
"Let's talk over here." Seeing that he had recovered some strength, Anser led him to the place where he had hidden the bundle outside the Mage Tower.
This spot was more secluded, preventing them from being seen by passersby or Underdark Creatures.
Blatt carried his longsword with heavy steps. When he saw the large bundle in the corner, his eyes immediately lit up. "Is there food?"
"Yes, but not much."
Anser pulled a cloth bag from the bundle, fished out a loaf of black bread about twenty centimeters long and ten centimeters thick, and tossed it to Blatt. Then he took one out for himself and began to eat.
"Brown sugar walnut bread, good stuff." Blatt didn't stand on ceremony and began gnawing on it.
Brown sugar walnut bread was also called Amnian black bread. There were many varieties, and it was the standard staple food of the Mage Tower, though for the poor, it was a delicacy only occasionally enjoyed.
In this regard, Fabian still had a bit of a conscience.
Anser was hungry too. He hadn't felt it before, but as the soft, sweet bread entered his mouth, hunger surged like a tide.
He took out a water skin and tossed one to Blatt as well.
In the corner, the two sat opposite each other. Neither spoke, focused only on eating.
However, Anser did not relax. His ears were perked, constantly listening for movement outside.
Blatt did the same. At the slightest sound, he would stop chewing. His longsword was placed by his hand; his alertness was much higher than Anser's.
His eyes occasionally swept over Anser's clothes and staff, his expression carrying a hint of understanding.
After washing down the last bite of bread with water, he hung the water skin at his waist and asked softly, "Are you a mage from the Mage Tower?"
"Something like that. I'm Anser." Anser didn't explain much. "It's dangerous here. What are your thoughts?"
"We can't stay here for long. The north and northeast are full of Underdark Creatures, the south is the Chongsa River, and the east is Dust Eagle Mountain. We'd best head to Dust Eagle Mountain to take shelter..." Blatt mused.
His idea was to hide. The Council of Baldur's Gate wouldn't just sit by. As long as the Flame Fist legion and Sentinels took action, this wave of invaders—primarily Gray Dwarves—would soon be driven back underground.
Even if the high-ranking officials of Baldur's Gate couldn't handle it, they could seek help from the Lord's Alliance. Silverymoon, Neverwinter, Waterdeep... each possessed formidable strength.
"The Weave... something has happened to it!" Anser said in a low voice.
This was the true disaster!
"What?" Blatt's eyes widened, his face full of shock. Then, as if realizing something, he asked, "Then... how can you still use spells?"
"The Weave hasn't collapsed yet," Anser explained. "I've unexpectedly awakened a Dragon Bloodline and switched to Mana Spellcasting."
Blatt lowered his head, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. After a long silence, he slowly spoke, "Then you truly are a genius."
Clearly, for a Professional accustomed to spell slot casting, switching to Mana Spellcasting was no easy feat.
"Perhaps." Anser didn't know the difference between himself, who possessed a profession panel, and other Professionals, so he could only give a vague reply.