Chapter 12: Church Of The Final Hope
“I’m sorry,” Land sighed, “it’s too chaotic, we can’t manage it all. The bodies are buried in the backyard; come back and check once things settle down.”
There were too many dead, and burying the bodies on-site wasn’t humanitarianism but a fear that the heat would cause a plague.
Anse shook his head slightly and murmured, “It’s not your fault. They were very stubborn and never listened to advice…”
At this point, vague memories kept surfacing in his mind.
The original owner’s parents had bad tempers, but they valued him more than their own lives, so it wasn’t strange at all that they refused to leave after the incident.
“Do you know who did it?” Anse asked gravely.
“Not sure, roving thugs committed the crime; maybe I killed them, maybe they fled…” Land didn’t hide anything. “Sow’s Hoof District is basically deserted now; those who didn’t flee are probably enslaved by the Duergar.”
Duergar master psionics and are skilled at enslaving other races.
Brat couldn’t help asking, “What about the Flame Fist Legion? Are they just letting underground creatures run rampant?”
“Yeah, why haven’t we seen any Flame Fist people on the way here?” Anse frowned, feeling a sudden surge of dissatisfaction and hostility toward the Flame Fist.
The Flame Fist Fortress is right on Dragon Bridge, just one or two kilometers away, yet they’ve done nothing.
Land sighed, “Yesterday, the Flame Fist were ordered to support the collapse zone and nearly all mobilized, but in the end… they suffered a crushing defeat with inestimable losses. The survivors have withdrawn to the Upper City.
The Flame Fist Fortress is no longer able to fight; their new orders are to seek external aid and hold Dragon Bridge…”
“I see.” Anse was secretly shocked; the Flame Fist had over three thousand people, yet they were defeated so quickly.
He thought for a moment: “Is it the influence of the Magic Net? The Duergar master psionics, so that’s why they’re performing so strongly?”
“Exactly, something big happened to the Magic Net—that’s the source of the chaos!” Land nodded, looking at Anse with curiosity. “You don’t seem greatly affected?”
“I’m a mana caster.” Anse replied.
“No wonder.” Land realized, “Sorcerers innately master primal mana, giving them a natural advantage here, but for you to master mana casting so quickly shows exceptional talent.”
“I see you can still release Holy Slash. Does the disrupted Magic Net greatly affect Paladins?” Anse asked.
“I can only cast divine spells below 2nd ring now; not only is casting difficult, but it’s also prone to failure…” Land’s face was full of bitterness.
Besides affecting spellcasting, the Magic Net is a vital channel for priests or believers to connect with the gods. Its disruption has nearly severed priests’ links to the gods, which is deadly.
Yet he didn’t dare tell ordinary people, as it would cause even greater panic.
At this moment, Zahir walked over quickly: “We should go. First send the wounded back, then figure out how to build defenses.”
“You go ahead; I’ll hold here.” Land waved his hand, signaling him to take the wounded and leave first.
He patted Anse’s arm reassuringly: “Anse, go back to the church with the group; it’s very safe there.”
“Alright.” Anse didn’t refuse.
With both parents dead, he had no burdens left. Now severely lacking a sense of security, he just wanted to level up quickly; following Land would let him leech some experience.
The two retrieved their bundle and backpack, silently following behind the crowd. Brat was grimacing in pain but reluctant to drink even a sip of healing potion.
Anse was speechless; he hadn’t expected this teammate to be a miser.
“Wait a moment.”
He stopped Brat, planted the staff on the ground, mentally connected to it, and activated Goodberry.
The gray-green staff suddenly turned green, with curling patterns spreading along it, rapidly growing ten small twigs, which then… withered one after another!
“What happened?” Brat was baffled.
“Uh, maybe a little mishap.” Anse said with a dry laugh.
He checked the staff; it had indeed lost one charge. He speculated that both Goodberry casting and charging relied on the Magic Net, causing the failure.
He tried again, succeeding only on the third attempt.
The Goodberry Staff was covered in plump, glowing small berries—ten in total, red, thumb-sized, probably some kind of berries.
Anse picked them one by one; afterward, all the twigs withered and vanished, and the staff returned to normal.
“Here, try some.” He held three berries in his palm and offered them to Brat.
Brat took them, astonished: “Sweet berries, a Druid’s Goodberry?”
“You know quite a bit.” Anse smiled; this was his first time seeing this spell, and it was pretty novel.
One magic berry restores 1 life, and also satisfies a day’s nutritional needs; they’re quite valuable.
Brat popped one into his mouth, chewed twice, swallowed, and smacked his lips savoringly: “Refreshing, tart and sweet, rich fruity aroma—delicious.”
He swallowed the remaining two in one go; his minor wounds visibly healed at a speed the eye could follow. A few minutes later, the small cuts had scabbed over, the neck wound fully healed, leaving only a faint red line.
Seeing Brat was fine, Anse ate one himself; the taste was indeed great.
He stored the remaining six in his backpack for later, though these berries couldn’t be stored and would vanish if not eaten within a day.
“Spellcasters have it good—anything they need, they have.” Brat sighed.
“Heh, the wizards wouldn’t agree right now.” Anse teased.
The two chatted as they walked.
Nearing the church, a tall figure with bow and arrow stood by the roadside, gaze fixed on Anse.
Anse recognized him—the archer who had provided cover from the hillside earlier.
“Hello, thanks to you earlier. Waiting for me?” He greeted proactively.
Without this archer, he might have wasted a Shield; the Ogre Officer’s javelin wasn’t easy to dodge.
“Yes, I’m Finn, a Beastmaster. I have something to ask you.” Finn grinned, his expression a bit stiff.
“I’m Anse, he’s Brat. What is it?” Anse quietly sized him up.
【Finn, Half-Elf, Level 3 Ranger（Beastmaster）】
Finn was a head taller than Anse, visually about 1.9 meters, tall and lanky with a long face; his eyebrows and mustache looked like they’d been hit by a typhoon—ugly in a distinctive way, somewhat insulting to his elven bloodline.
“Um… are you a wizard? Why isn’t your spellcasting affected?” Finn’s voice was very dry, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.
“I’m a Sorcerer.” Anse touched his face; weren’t the traits obvious? “I forgo the Magic Net and spell slots, casting with innate mana. There’s definitely influence, but no big problem.”
“Oh.” Finn sighed, his tone somewhat disappointed.
Sorcerers cast by talent and instinct; even if one wanted to teach others, they couldn’t learn it.
“You should specialize in archery instead; set spells aside for now.” Anse advised.
Most Ranger subclasses don’t rely on spells, and Hunter’s Mark doesn’t depend on spell slots—far luckier than spellcasters.
“Mm.” Finn nodded and said no more.
Anse was helpless; this Ranger was too introverted—the chat died after a few words.
With nothing more to say, the group simply entered the church together.
Zahir was busy; an old priest with white hair and beard named Berg received Anse and the others, introducing the current situation.
The Church of the Final Hope worships the God of Justice Tyr, with many believers and a large area, but now it’s turned into a refugee camp, crammed full inside and out with residents seeking shelter—at least hundreds.
Most are the old and weak with limited mobility; the young were mostly persuaded by the priests to leave and fend for themselves.
Half of Twin Song District is empty, but with no Duergar, over a thousand people haven’t left, forcing Land to garrison that pass earlier.
Actually, placing the defensive line at Dragon Bridge would be better—easy to defend, hard to attack, with Flame Fist and Rivertown District support.
Unfortunately, many won’t shed tears without seeing the coffin; they simply don’t follow commands.
The church’s priests are mostly commoners; professionals are rare everywhere. They selflessly took on this task—their faith and moral standard are unimpeachable.
Anse secretly felt fortunate; luckily he hadn’t chosen Paladin class back then, or in this disaster, even if he wanted to run, his class oath wouldn’t allow it.
Breaking an oath is very troublesome.
Thanks to book friend sXuan Yuan Yi Xing s for the reward!
Creation is not easy; hope all reader lords support generously!
