The battle in Rock of Bral lasted an entire day. It was extremely chaotic throughout, and Osborn couldn't grasp the exact details—he could only reconstruct the general situation from the broader course of events.
Even now, he still couldn't figure out the Mind Flayers' objective, nor how that group of Githzerai had appeared.
Rock of Bral had won, but the fighting spread across the upper, middle, and lower districts. Only the bottommost layer remained unaffected. The losses were far greater than expected.
Once escape became impossible, the Mind Flayers began large-scale abductions of civilians and adventurers alike. After implanting them with tadpoles, they released them again, while also unleashing a massive number of Intellect Devourers, plunging the entire city into chaos.
No one knew how many Intellect Devourers and infected hosts were currently inside Rock of Bral. Everyone was on edge, afraid to come into contact with anyone.
Anser wasn't surprised. Mind Flayers under the control of an elder brain might appear twisted, but in reality, they were extremely "pure."
Their existence revolved around just two fundamental desires: dominion… and brains.
To them, the death of individuals was insignificant.
"Can you identify those creatures?" After finishing his explanation, Osborn looked at Anser with anticipation.
He considered himself well-connected, and among his acquaintances were quite a few spellcasters. But they were either too far away or had long since lost their ability to cast spells. After thinking it over for a long time, he couldn't find anyone stronger than Anser.
"Isn't there a temple district in the city? No clerics or paladins?" Anser asked, puzzled.
"There are, but Rock of Bral is small. The temples aren't large, and there aren't many clergy. They can't cover the lower districts in such a short time," Osborn said helplessly. This kind of situation couldn't afford delays.
The temple district was in the upper city. There were many temples, but ordinary people couldn't easily access that area.
It sounded ironic, but that was reality—under the same faith, those with wealth and power were always closer to the gods.
"I see. I'll help you." Anser spoke sincerely, though inwardly he felt a surge of excitement.
It wasn't schadenfreude—he simply couldn't suppress his enthusiasm. As long as he captured a few infected hosts and locked them in the Black Tower prison, he would harvest a large amount of experience seven days later.
Helping a friend while safely gaining experience—killing multiple birds with one stone.
"You'll be a lifelong friend of the Burrows." Osborn patted Anser's hand with a bright smile, then waved. "Come on, follow me."
With that, he jumped down from the balcony.
Anser glanced downward. Including the first-floor steps, it was about eight or nine meters—fairly high. But instead of taking the stairs, he braced himself on the railing and leapt down in one smooth motion, landing with a heavy thud.
He crouched deeply on impact. The sound was loud, and his legs tingled slightly, but his posture was clean and controlled, the movement textbook-perfect.
"Very smooth. You've definitely trained before," Osborn said, standing nearby. His gaze shifted to the shield in Anser's hand, a hint of confusion in his eyes.
Anser raised a finger, a white-gold radiance lighting up at the tip. "A little."
"Th-this…" Osborn was both surprised and delighted. A paladin dealing with aberrations—this was a perfect match.
"Let's go." Anser stepped forward to his side. "How strong is the Mage Guild?"
"Them? …They're practically in a semi-closed state, burying themselves in magical research," Osborn replied as they walked.
He had an old friend, a high-level wizard, who used to come by often with students to freeload food and drinks. But in the past few weeks, he hadn't shown up even once.
"Mm." Anser understood them well. "What about those Githzerai? Have you had any contact? How many are there, and how strong?"
"I only saw them from a distance. Around thirty people, all monks, extremely powerful. One of them jumped from a rooftop straight onto a speeding nautiloid ship and tore off a tentacle with his bare hands…" Osborn spoke animatedly, growing more excited as he went on.
Clearly, the daytime battle had left a deep impression on him.
Anser listened quietly. Come to think of it, he was quite familiar with the monk class.
Through rigorous combat training and spiritual discipline, monks seek to understand the workings of heaven and earth—and the transformations of the self.
They train their bodies externally and cultivate their inner strength. They can run, jump, fight, and endure—truly all-rounded. Their combat style and overall aesthetic are completely different from other classes: no armor, bare hands, movements swift as the wind, and strikingly graceful.
However, the gap in strength among monks is enormous.
The weak can only run across rooftops and walls, while the strong are virtually indestructible, without any weaknesses—against anyone, it only takes one or two punches.
The two chatted as they walked, heading downward, and soon entered the Lower District.
There were more people around. Many houses had been destroyed, leaving residents homeless. They rested directly on the streets, some without even a tent.
Anser had already activated Detect Evil and Good. Seeing this, he immediately activated the True Sight Ring. A faint spiritual glow gathered in his eyes as he swept his gaze across the surrounding crowd.
His vision was no longer monotonous. It was filled with a myriad of colors—countless life auras, bright or dim, scattered like sparks across the world, drifting within an ocean of magic.
Beside a collapsed shop, a tall, burly man with a hippopotamus head and a firearm at his waist crouched at the entrance, holding a small hippo-like child.
The child's skin was dull, but its head was wrapped in a dense dark-purple glow. Psionic threads spread outward like tentacles, extending throughout its body.
"Osborn!" Anser stopped, his expression grave. An elemental orb suddenly hovered above his head.
The halfling understood the tone immediately, his heart sinking. He hadn't expected to find something abnormal the moment they entered the Lower District.
Following Anser's gaze, he quickly locked onto the two figures and asked in a low voice, "Which one?"
"The child. It's been parasitized by an Intellect Devourer. Do we act?" Anser asked.
This area should belong to the Giff. They were massive, with distinctive hippopotamus heads and short bristles on their faces and scalps, which is why many simply called them hippo-folk.
Giff society was structured along strict military lines. Every Giff had a rank. They excelled in firearms and explosives and were among the most famous spacefaring mercenaries.
Because of that, they were not easy to provoke. Acting rashly could trigger a counterattack, and the two of them might end up riddled with bullets.
"They all know me. Follow my lead," Osborn said, then walked toward the group of Giff gathered at the street corner.
At the same time, he raised a hand in greeting. "Hey, Sergeant, eaten yet?"
The moment he spoke, two or three dozen Giff turned to look, including the man who had been resting and his child.
The small Giff lifted its head. The instant it saw the faint radiance in Anser's eyes, its expression changed drastically, and it sprang to its feet.
Anser caught it from the corner of his eye. Without hesitation, he raised a hand and pointed. A flash of white-gold radiance streaked out and struck the small Giff instantly.
Protection from Evil and Good!
The small Giff's skull split open, and an Intellect Devourer burst out, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
To avoid misunderstanding, Anser had no choice but to expend a cast of Protection from Evil and Good to force the Intellect Devourer out first.
In truth, a surprise kill would have been more effective at preventing accidents.
"It's been parasitized!" Osborn shouted.
The other Giff turned, almost simultaneously drawing their firearms in perfect unison.
There was no way Anser would let others act first. He immediately focused and cast his spell.
"મેજિકમિસાઇલ"
Metamagic: Quickened Spell + Fourth-Ring Magic Missile!
Six glowing missiles formed instantly, shooting from his fingertips and slamming into the fleeing Intellect Devourer. It tumbled violently, brain matter splattering everywhere.
[Target killed. Gained 455 experience.]
'Pathetically weak!' Anser felt a surge of excitement.
The Intellect Devourer that had once given him trouble now seemed so fragile, completely unable to withstand a single blow.
On the other side, the burly Giff dropped to his knees, clutching his head, his face ashen. His hands trembled as he reached toward the now brainless child, lips quivering, unable to form words.
Anser let out a quiet sigh and turned his head away—only to see more Giff rushing out of nearby buildings with weapons in hand.
Among them, three had varying degrees of psionic fluctuations surrounding their heads.
'This…'
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