As dusk faded, night descended.
Nefis's door remained tightly shut. Even the members of the wizard delegation who had gone out to experience the local culture of the Rock of Bral had already returned, yet neither she nor Brunhilde had come out.
Two Shield Guardians stood watch over the small courtyards like towering giants, the crimson glow in their eyes striking an intimidating sight.
Not far away, inside a two-story wooden house, Anser withdrew his gaze, closed the window, and casually cast Arcane Lock on it.
Osborn had reserved this building specifically for him. It stood two or three hundred meters from the stone tower, secluded enough to make it ideal for meditation and rest.
The stone tower housed too many people and was always noisy, so it had been left entirely to the guards as their place to eat and relax.
At the moment, the third floor of the tower was bustling with activity. Stoll was drinking and feasting with Osborn and General Smokefire, enjoying a noble banquet prepared in the Sword Coast style, generously sponsored by Fort Jacqueline.
Anser had only eaten a little before leaving. He had spent the entire time in the wooden house copying spell scrolls.
He was worried that fighting might suddenly break out on the Rock of Bral, so instead of wandering far, he chose to conserve his strength.
'The two sides will probably hit it off immediately. I just hope Brunhilde doesn't stir up any more trouble.'
If the Magic Research Society chose to side with Azuth, they would most likely join this war between the Chosen, allowing her to earn even greater divine blessings.
As he pondered the matter, a faint rustling sound reached his ears.
Had his senses not been exceptionally sharp, he would never have noticed it.
He dismissed his Wizardly Quill and calmly scanned his surroundings.
But before he could locate the source, a brilliantly colored spider openly descended from the ceiling on a silk thread, landing squarely on his desk.
The next instant, it abruptly grew larger, transforming into a graceful woman seated sideways atop the desk. Her colorful twin tails draped over her chest.
Not a single piece of clothing covered her body, yet she wore an abundance of accessories—a black choker, an intricate chest chain, a tasseled waist chain, bracelets, anklets...
She wore so much, yet none of it actually concealed anything. Instead, it only accentuated her alluring figure, enough to leave anyone dazzled and tempted.
"Do you like what you see?" the woman asked, leaning back with one hand braced against the desk while the other reached toward Anser.
Anser rose to his feet and retreated several steps.
"Lady Kristin, Priest Evan needs you far more than I do."
"But right now, I need you more."
Kristin licked her lips, a rosy flush blooming across her face.
Anser raised a finger and gently wagged it, his expression remaining perfectly calm.
"Please leave. I'll pretend you were never here."
Kristin stared directly into his eyes, as if trying to determine whether he truly meant those words.
"Am I not beautiful enough? Or perhaps... you prefer something else..."
As she spoke, her body shifted once again, becoming a catgirl.
Cat ears, a cat's tail, soft paws...
She possessed the graceful curves of a human woman blended with feline features, and even her every movement carried the lazy elegance of a cat.
"Evan is my friend."
Anser took a slow breath, relying on a fighter's extraordinary bodily control and iron will to keep himself composed.
Kristin studied him for a long moment. Only after confirming that he wasn't merely playing hard to get did she finally drop her seductive act.
"Hmph. What a boring man."
The catgirl transformed back into a spider and silently disappeared into the dark rafters above. Aside from the lingering fragrance she left behind, it was as though she had never been there at all.
Anser let out a long sigh of relief.
Fortunately, the woman still had some sense of propriety. Had she thrown herself at him outright, something really might have happened.
'Evan's probably worn the cuckold's crown enough times already. I wasn't about to put it on him again.'
He wasn't the sort of man who coveted someone else's woman.
Besides, this was a critical moment. If Evan found out, they would be tearing themselves apart before the battle had even begun. They'd become the laughingstock of everyone around them.
History was filled with people who had indulged themselves for a single fleeting moment, only to suffer consequences they could never bear.
'Come to think of it, that woman really knows how to have fun.' He casually mocked to himself.
She was a druid too, yet compared to her, Karisha from the Wood of Sharp Teeth was downright old-fashioned.
No wonder Iris had warned him. It hadn't been prejudice after all.
'Then again, maybe she's just embracing her true nature and pursuing freedom...'
He sat back down in his chair and stared at the parchment scroll before him, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to continue writing.
He wanted to go find Iris, but he was afraid of missing the right moment if fighting broke out. Instead, he got to his feet and went around the house casting Alarm and Arcane Lock everywhere he could, eliminating as many potential security risks as possible.
Then he went to bed.
The Rock of Bral was eerily quiet that night. The oppressive atmosphere before the coming storm had driven everyone indoors, their doors bolted tight for fear of being caught in the coming conflict.
If most people had possessed the means and money to flee, half of Bral would probably have been deserted already.
The moon hung high overhead, its silvery light streaming through the window and filling the room with tranquil stillness.
Ding—
Half-asleep, Anser sensed the die beginning to spin rapidly, jolting him awake.
A check was about to be rolled!
Without a moment's hesitation, he opened his eyes, and his body had already shifted into the Ethereal Plane.
His gaze swept across the room. In the gray, hazy world, there wasn't a single person in sight. The room looked exactly as it had before, with nothing visibly out of place.
'There's no way nobody's here!'
He immediately pulled up the combat log. Sure enough, there was a failed Perception check recorded just a few seconds earlier.
He slung his shield over his back, gripped his longbow, and rapidly layered spell after spell onto himself—Mage Armor, False Life, Intellect Fortress, Fire Shield...
'Too bad I don't have Truesight.'
Peering across the planar boundary, he inspected every inch of the room. It didn't take long before he noticed that one of the windows had been opened, yet the Arcane Lock on it remained intact.
That definitely wasn't something an ordinary person could accomplish.
'They're probably still here.'
Movement inevitably produced physical changes—the floor would vibrate, doors and windows would shift. Even if the intruder had no weight, the air itself would still move.
Spellcasting was even harder to conceal, since fluctuations in magical energy were nearly impossible to hide.
Second by second, time slipped away, and the room grew even quieter.
'If I'd pretended not to notice and used myself as bait... Forget it. No need to take that risk.'
He had a much simpler—and far more direct—solution.
Turn the entire room into a prison.
The room was small, only a little over twenty square meters. If he configured Forcecage as a barred cage, its maximum dimension could reach seven and a half meters.
'Whoever opened the window must have a physical body. They can't slip through like a druid can.'
Standing beside the window, the instant he returned to the Material Plane, he immediately cast Forcecage with Quickened Spell, targeting the entire second-floor room.
Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Empowered Quickened Spell, Empowered Subtle Spell, Extended Spell + Forcecage!
An invisible, irregular prison sprang into existence in an instant. Roughly seven meters across, it consisted of force bars just over a centimeter thick, with gaps of only a single centimeter between them.
Anser's extraordinary Charisma granted him exquisite control over his magic. His Forcecage fit snugly against the walls, cleverly weaving around the furniture to create a bizarre prison within the room.
Bang!
A figure was knocked back by the wall of force in the corner. Taking advantage of the rebound, he casually sat down atop a section of force shaped around a stool before slowly turning around.
"So... by doing this, haven't you trapped yourself in here too?"
He was short and thin, sporting a drooping mustache that reached the corners of his mouth. A dagger danced between his long fingers like a butterfly.
"You think you can beat me?" Anser asked calmly.
"Haha. What do you think?" The man's mustache twitched up and down as he spoke, giving him a rather comical appearance.
"You?"
"No chance."
The die spun slightly, displaying the target's information:
[Mask's Chosen. Human. Level 19 Rogue (Thief).]
'He didn't trigger Brunhilde's divine senses?!'
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