Chapter 5: No Useless Spells
On another stone pillar.
The young man leaned on his sword, his messy black long hair wet and sticking to his cheeks and forehead, his eyes hidden in the strands staring intently at Anse.
“Spellcaster, there should be a way, right?” His eyes showed a bit of hope.
But seeing Anse start to pack up the loot without paying attention to him, he grew a little anxious.
“Hey, brother, nice job—” His voice was clear and bright.
Anse casually tossed the collected weapons, bundle, and other miscellaneous items onto the ground and walked to the edge of the stone platform.
“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten you. The stone pillar is about to collapse; we must save ourselves quickly.” He held up a rope taken from the goblin’s bundle and gestured.
The two stone pillars were about twenty meters apart; the other pillar was several meters shorter and directly impacted by the water flow from above, making it more dangerous.
“I get it, I get it. I’m Brat. Is your rope long enough?” Brat grinned, revealing a mouth of slightly yellowed teeth.
Anse untied the rope, laid it on the ground to measure it—it was about ten meters or so, far from enough.
“Not enough!”
Brat looked disappointed and said helplessly, “Do you have any other methods?”
“I’ll go up first, then find a rope to save you.” Anse had already thought it through.
The spells he chose were highly functional, specifically for this situation.
Without a rope, he would use Mold Earth plus Jump, combined with climbing ability, to climb up directly.
With a rope, it would be even simpler.
“Ah? Alright, I… I’ll wait for you.” Brat lowered his head slightly, his newly ignited hope extinguished in an instant.
Monsters were rampant above; once the other went up, he would likely flee immediately, making rescue highly unlikely.
Anse didn’t say much, because he himself wasn’t sure if he would save him.
The apprentice who fell with him couldn’t even be seen as a corpse—likely dead, life is fragile, and staying alive is important.
He bundled the valuable supplies like weapons and money bag and slung it on his back, tossing all other miscellaneous items aside.
“（Dragon Speech）
Accompanied by a low, majestic Dragon Speech, a floating spectral hand appeared on the stone wall diagonally above.
This was the zero-ring spell Mage Hand, which the original owner had longed for for years but could never learn.
The spectral hand lasts one minute, can fly, is as flexible as a human hand, but can carry at most 10 pounds and cannot leave him more than 30 feet away.
The feeling of an extra hand was quite novel; Anse’s mouth curved into a slight smile as he controlled the spectral hand with his mind to wander around, testing where was more solid and avoiding cracks or loose earth and stone structures.
Time was tight; after quickly selecting the first foothold, he roughly planned a climbing route on the cliff wall, then cast again.
Cantrip: Mold Earth!
After a short, forceful incantation, a section of the cliff wall above writhed like mud, instantly transforming into a small stone platform with a fixed ring.
The height was nine meters, the standard casting distance for Mage Hand and Mold Earth. He felt he could go farther, but for safety, he didn’t.
“Hoo—”
Anse took a deep breath, did some simple stretches, and calmed his restless mind.
Cantrips don’t consume personal mana; they draw from the mana in the air, but the disrupted Magic Net greatly increased casting difficulty, burdening the mind.
He grabbed the rope and tossed it upward forcefully; the spectral hand easily caught the end and tied it to the fixed ring.
The rope was rough hemp rope, thumb-thick. Anse tugged it hard—it seemed sturdy enough—and without further hesitation, he gripped the rope and climbed quickly, using hands and feet.
It took a dozen seconds, and he easily flipped onto the stone platform.
“Simpler than expected. Keep going!”
Next, he repeated the actions and finally climbed onto the fourth sculpted stone platform just before the second Mage Hand effect ended.
This stone platform was one meter below the pit wall, a position he deliberately chose.
He didn’t climb up rashly; instead, he crouched on the stone platform and listened carefully.
Approaching evening, the sky was dim, shadows chaotic around the giant pit, and amid the rushing water sounds were mixed disordered footsteps.
‘Someone!’
His climbing spot was not far from the Mage Tower; the foundation here was solid, with relatively low collapse risk.
The Mage Tower was in the southeast of Brampton District, overlooking the vast Chongsa River to the south, with the outer city-Rolled Area under Dust Eagle Mountain to the east; a city wall separated the two districts, connected by Cliff Gate.
‘The underground creatures’ landing point is northwest; fewer monsters here, refugees likely want to pass through Cliff Gate to flee to Dust Eagle Mountain.’ Anse quickly understood the refugees’ motivation.
He quietly peeked out and saw scattered crowds running southeast, footsteps disordered, glancing around while running, panicked like startled birds.
‘Wrong direction?’ Anse felt doubtful; he glanced at the breached Chongsa River, ‘Could it be… Cliff Gate is blocked?’
Earlier, he noticed several sections of the city wall between the districts had collapsed, connecting them, but traversal was difficult unless absolutely necessary.
Situation unclear, but no monsters encountered yet. Now he had two choices: flee immediately or find a way to save Brat.
He looked down at the deep pit; a black shadow figure stood quietly at the edge of the stone pillar, half his body battered by the waterfall, no shouting, eyes hidden in the dusk like a statue.
‘This composure… unusual.’
Anse withdrew his gaze and decided to save him.
If Brat had acted up earlier or wasn’t sharp enough to avoid Duergar detection, he wouldn’t have gotten up so easily.
The two had initially established trust; they could try fleeing together—he needed a helper, someone to act as “frontline” in combat to tank for him.
‘Go to the Mage Tower for rope first.’
After confirming no monsters nearby, he climbed onto the ground, gripped the crystal in his left hand, and sneaked toward the tilted Mage Tower dozens of meters away.
The sky was dim, the entire city shrouded in darkness, almost no lights visible.
Creatures from the Underdark mostly had Darkvision; this visibility was no different from daytime for them, while city residents focused on fleeing and dared not light lamps.
Anse avoided the debris-strewn ground, frequently hiding in shadows, and quietly approached the door.
The Mage Tower had six floors, nearly twenty meters high, once the tallest building near Cliff Gate. Now it was badly damaged, tilted over ten degrees, walls covered in huge cracks—a definite dangerous ruin.
‘Won’t collapse, will it?’
But Anse thought again: those underground creatures probably wouldn’t stay in a dangerous ruin either, meaning it should be safe here.
He peered through the broken door and saw only a few human corpses, no monsters or other sounds.
He tiptoed inside, hugging the wall, slowly circling the hall, finally confirming the monsters had left.
He picked up a short stick and tore a rag from a corpse to cover most of it.
“（Light）
Mana surged in, and the short stick lit up immediately, bright white light illuminating half the hall.
Anse quickly covered it, wrapping it in multiple layers of rag, leaving only a bit at the head exposed; the light dimmed accordingly.
‘Good enough.’
Light provides bright illumination in a 20-foot (≥6-meter) radius and additional 20 feet of dim light, lasting one hour—very useful.
But too bright isn’t always good.
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