Mask was the god of thieves, also known as the Lord of Shadows, the Master of All Thieves, and Blackheart. He was the patron deity of idlers, spies, and thieves.
Everything that happened behind the scenes fell within Mask's domain.
He had never been a good-aligned deity. His alignment was Chaotic Neutral, though he occasionally leaned toward evil.
"Are you Emmanuel's ally?" Anser didn't believe a thief showing up at his door in the middle of the night had come with good intentions.
The mustached man stroked his mustache with his left hand as he sized Anser up. "You seem... remarkably unafraid."
"Why would I be afraid of a thief?" Anser let out a faint chuckle. "Answer my question."
"Legend has it that a certain arrogant bitch died at the hands of a thief," the mustached man replied flippantly, a look of contempt curling his lips.
"You're like a rat that stumbles across a tiny scrap of secret history and can't wait to show it off at every opportunity. Narrow-minded and pathetic," Anser shot back without the slightest restraint.
The one who had killed the Goddess of Magic was Cyric, Mask's sworn enemy. Using that accomplishment to prove the historical importance of thieves was simply idiotic.
If Mask heard him saying that, he'd probably tear the man's vocal cords out himself.
Rogues had never enjoyed much prestige. First, because of their image—people naturally associated them with burglars and pickpockets, and that stereotype had only grown stronger over time.
Second, what true genius would choose to become a Rogue? Unless their talents suited nothing else... or they had no other choice.
The mustached man's face slowly twisted with rage, his triangular eyes fixed on Anser.
"I was going to grant you a dignified death..."
Realizing there was no point continuing the conversation, Anser gave up trying to pry out more information. He raised a finger, and an invisible ripple instantly washed over the mustached man.
Innate Spellcasting + Metamagic: Quickened Spell, Heightened Spell, Subtle Spell + Hold Person!
The mustached man's movements froze, his words cut off mid-sentence.
But in the very next instant, the spell's magic abruptly rebounded and struck Anser instead, so fast that he didn't even have time to react.
'What kind of ability is this?!'
His skin tingled faintly as he fought with every ounce of willpower to resist it. It was the first time he had ever personally experienced the full force of one of his own spells.
[The Chosen of Mask reflected the spell Hold Person. You are affected by the spell and must make a difficult Wisdom Saving Throw. You possess Magic Resistance and are protected by Intellect Fortress and the Robe of Stars. Saving Throw successful.]
Anser didn't even have time to feel relieved before the mustached man lunged at him. In the blink of an eye, he crossed several meters, a sly grin plastered across his face.
So even that display of anger had probably been an act.
With a thought, Anser instinctively cast one of his Signature Spells—Temporal Shunt.
Space and time around the mustached man froze for a fleeting instant before he vanished into thin air, as though he had never existed.
'Go on, reflect this one!'
Anser quietly breathed a sigh of relief and retreated several steps, aiming at the spot where the man had disappeared as he prepared Prismatic Spray.
'Spell reflection has to have limits. I refuse to believe it can bounce offensive spells back too!'
And even if it could, he'd have enough time to dodge.
A few seconds later, the mustached man's wiry body was spat back out by the timestream. He was still locked in his charging posture, but his momentum was gone, forcing him to hurriedly adjust his footing to keep from pitching forward.
Confusion spread across his face. A chunk of his memory had simply vanished. Before he could make sense of it, however, the corner of his eye caught a dazzling burst of multicolored light.
His confusion lasted only an instant before it gave way to shock. Acting purely on instinct, he dodged again and again by the narrowest of margins. His body twisted into impossible angles, weaving erratically without ever losing its balance.
Several tracking prismatic rays closed in on him. They were about to hit their target, yet each one was evaded in the blink of an eye.
But Anser's Prismatic Spray was different from an ordinary spell. Its rays could adjust their trajectory twice in succession, catching even a master thief completely off guard.
Bang!
A blue ray struck the mustached man beneath the ribs. His body shuddered as white frost spread rapidly across him.
He darted away like a rat and took cover behind a table.
[You cast Prismatic Spray on Mask's Chosen. The target was hit, taking 44 cold damage. Current Hit Points: 139/183.]
'He has resistance to cold damage!'
Anser hurried forward, circling around the Wall of Force built flush against the table, only to discover that the mustached man had already vanished.
'Invisible?'
The thought had barely crossed his mind when an unseen blade descended out of nowhere toward the back of his neck!
It was impossibly fast. The instant it appeared, it was as if it had already struck. There was no warning, no telltale movement whatsoever.
Fortunately, Anser had been on high alert. Acting on instinct, he immediately activated Shield and Phase Shift Evasion.
The Shield spell shattered instantly. His body turned incorporeal, yet the invisible blade pursued him into the Ethereal Plane as well, revealing the translucent tip of its blade.
Clang—!
The blade pierced through the Robe of Stars before striking the dragon scales shimmering with elemental radiance, producing a harsh metallic screech.
The dragon scales dented slightly under the impact, but the blade failed to advance even a fraction of an inch.
[You were struck by Mask's Chosen's cross-planar Soul Slash. Your overwhelmingly powerful armor completely negated the attack. It felt almost laughably weak...]
The mustached man was forced out of hiding, still gripping his dark-gold dagger, his face frozen in disbelief.
Before launching the attack, he'd considered countless possible outcomes.
But this?
This had never crossed his mind.
His proudest killing blow hadn't even broken the target's defenses. The result was so brutally straightforward that it bordered on despair.
Anser had already seen through the trick.
The mustached man was apparently capable of entering the Ethereal Plane and launching surprise attacks across planar boundaries. He'd concealed that ability from the very beginning, patiently waiting for the perfect opportunity.
Unfortunately for him, he'd vastly underestimated his opponent's defenses.
With Extraordinary Charisma, a Draconic Physique, Genie's Splendor, and Transcendent Form all stacked together, Anser's Armor Class had reached 29. Add Mage Armor and Shield, and it easily exceeded 37—and that wasn't even counting external equipment like shields.
Even if someone managed to pierce his dragon scales, he still had a mountain of life-saving abilities waiting in reserve. Killing him was anything but easy.
A flash of silver mist enveloped him, and Anser reappeared outside the Forcecage, silently staring at the small figure trapped within.
Escaping a Forcecage by teleportation required a successful Charisma check. For him, that wasn't difficult. Even if he failed the first attempt, the second or third would get him out.
The mustached man's expression froze, panic flickering across his eyes.
"W-We can talk this out. I'm not even close to that Emmanuel..."
"I preferred you when you were acting all arrogant a moment ago." A cold smile tugged at Anser's lips. "I'd enjoy this a lot more."
As he spoke, he kicked a huge hole through the roof. Then he bent down, braced the front of the Arcanefire Longbow against the narrow gap between the Forcecage's bars with his left hand, and slowly drew the string with his right.
"Say goodbye to this world."
Innate Spellcasting + Signature Spell: Prismatic Spray!
Before the bowstring even had a chance to twang, a dazzling torrent of prismatic light erupted forth. It poured through the gap above the Forcecage, scattered in every direction, then bent into a web of zigzagging rays that converged on the trapped thief.
"Anser, I ***..."
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