Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 558 Summoning Courage Once Again

The mage unearthed the title "Ice Troll Berserker" from his memory.

As a unique advanced branch of the Berserker class, it is undeniably powerful. For an ordinary warrior, being able to barely maintain their sanity and distinguish friend from foe during a berserk state is already considered a success.

These are still well-trained berserkers. As for those who take the unorthodox path and try things out on their own, they are nothing more than time bombs on the battlefield, waiting to land on which unlucky person.

Yes, I'm talking about that humanoid hamster Gundam who clearly has the talent for berserker battles but insists on becoming a ranger.

And the Ice Troll Berserker?
If one's veins flow with glaciers, why fear being consumed by one's own anger?

Aside from Ancestral Frenzy, the Ice Troll's Frenzy, with its balanced offense and defense and mastery of bloodline rage and combat skills, is almost the best choice among similar abilities.

As for Ancestral Frenzy, also known as High Frenzy, well, that's the signature skill of legendary barbarians, there's not much room for comparison.

However, there is no such thing as a free lunch in the world, and there is little power without paying a price. Such extraordinary skills cannot be learned like in a game, where you can learn them by taking an ice bath, arm wrestling, or going through a few scenes.

"We Rishmans believe that all things have spirits; animals, plants, mountains, rivers, and spirits exist in all things, and this has been the case since ancient times."

Münster slowly began to speak:
"The dormant wildness is awakened, and after awakening, the restless spirit can never rest. We seek the guidance and protection of the spirits of our ancestors, yearn for the favor and comfort of witches, or run to the wilderness to pour out our cries to nature."

"Hiss, I understand, I understand."

The lord slammed his fist in his palm: "Neverwinter Academy also has quite a few female apprentices, why don't I help you make a match?"

The path of arcane magic is not easy. If an ordinary apprentice graduates, things are fine; after all, they become a mage, and their treatment won't be too bad.

But many more are mediocre people who waste years and still can't take the final step, or even touch the door frame.

Those from wealthy families could grit their teeth and persevere until they achieved something, but most had to drop out and enter society with the title of apprentice monk.

As a result, even after arriving in Faerûn, employment for graduates remained a major problem.

Of course, it's not that no one wants him. Putting aside his low-level arcane magic skills, his cultural literacy alone makes him a rare talent.

only…

Having witnessed the vastness of the world from another perspective in the academy, how could one be content to remain confined to a small pond?

The story of the unreliable little mages who went on an adventure with an unreliable team to seek opportunities, only to perish in the wilderness, is just a small footnote in the tale.

Being able to hook up with the nobility is a pretty good choice, let alone marrying into the family, even just becoming a lady-in-waiting or a magic advisor.

If you could hook up with a rich, foolish guy who'd suddenly decide to fund your bleak future in arcane magic, wouldn't that be wonderful?

Münster was a true knight, a pioneering nobleman. Even if he took a witch as his lover, it would not be considered a high position for him, let alone an apprentice.

"No, no, no, not this."

The barbarian, who had just been somewhat serious, immediately deflated, his face turning red as he waved his hands repeatedly:

“I have already decided to take Lady Lily as the lady I will follow, I just…”

"Just what?"

"This is a challenge, one that I must face."

Münster was somewhat incoherent, but the mage didn't rush him. After he took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, the mage continued, "..."

"The job trial for the Ice Troll Berserker?"

"Ah, I failed once before, and I don't want to fail again."

As the barbarian reminisced somewhat ramblingly, previously unmentioned past events gradually surfaced.

It's actually quite simple. It's nothing more than a young, impetuous teenager recklessly challenging himself, only to be slapped in the face by reality and taught a lesson.

Münster, who was considered a promising talent when he embarked on the path of the warrior, was naturally ambitious and determined. After passing the test of the warrior's society, he disregarded the advice of his predecessors and decided to embark on that path of ice and blood. Unfortunately, the barbarian, whose mind was filled with muscles at that time, did not understand one thing.

The various trials of strength, physique, and cold resistance in the Berserker's Hut are not obstacles or some kind of proof of strength; they are merely a small threshold.

To prevent more overconfident barbarians from needlessly losing their young lives at the threshold of the snowy forest in the howling cold wind.

The reason he was given the name Ice Troll Berserker was not to hunt down head trolls to prove himself.

Like a troll, tough and tenacious, with frost flowing in its veins.

Having survived near-death experiences, their fury is as cold as frost and snow. Only a few strong individuals who have traversed the frigid wilderness of the North can become Ice Troll Berserkers.

The rest?
Frozen corpses buried under the snow are their most common fate.

"I was lucky to see a colorful elk come to me before I fell into a coma, and when I woke up,"

A hint of reminiscence shone in the barbarian's eyes:
"I was rescued by a party of adventurers from Waterdeep."

Another all-powerful adventurer team?
That colorful deer was no ordinary wild beast; it must have been some kind of kind spirit that happened to see the barbarian, who seemed alright to some extent, and offered him a helping hand.

The former mage didn't know what to say, and an adventurer's party became almost a universal tool for smoothing things over.

Whenever the plot seems to be going nowhere, as long as the author is shameless enough, a deus ex machina can solve everything!

(The readers were quite cooperative, applauding and cheering with great joy!)
"So you followed them from your hometown to Jianwan to make a living?"

"Ah."

Münster responded in a muffled voice, and then explained:

"I swore I wouldn't come back until I passed the trial, but..."

The more the barbarian spoke, the more embarrassed he became, realizing how foolish he had been back then.

"What? Thinking of taking on another challenge and returning home in glory?"

The monk smiled, a mischievous smile tinged with a hint of nervousness he himself was unaware of.

"Lord..."

Call me boss!

"Boss, I want to try again."

"Go ahead,"

The monk almost sighed as he agreed to his old brother's request:

"I'll go ask the academy or the old man. Hopefully they have a teleportation beacon to Rishman, otherwise it'll be troublesome."

It's more than just troublesome. The kingdom of Rishman, located on the other side of the continent of Faerûn, spans almost the entire continent from Sword Coast, with a distance of more than a thousand miles between east and west.
Even if you gave the barbarians wings, they still wouldn't be able to fly over.

"Huh? No need to go back to Reshman."

"If that's the case, you should wait until your armor is fully upgraded before setting off. It would be helpful, wouldn't it?"

The mage, who was giving instructions in a long and detailed manner, paused for a moment when he heard the barbarian say that it wasn't necessary. He quickly asked, "Why not? Weren't you going to cross the northern lands to reach the Ice Edge Mountains?"

"The tattoos from the Berserker Society are still on my body, and,"

Münster scratched his head and chuckled, "The power blessing that the colorful elk gave me hasn't dissipated in the past few years, so I don't need to go back to Reshman to obtain the spirit blessing."

Thank you Hawkhand for the monthly pass!

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(End of this chapter)