Super Magician: The Magic Network Collapsed Again at the Start

Chapter 37 Mobile Turret
Anser rode his horse up to a high point, stopped, and looked back.

The pursuing undead were scattered and clearly lacked command, while the main force of the undead was besieging a group of skilled professionals.

He guessed it was the group of Ammu he had encountered during the day. They broke out towards the camp, and their location was only a few hundred meters away from the camp. He wondered if it was a coincidence or a deliberate attempt to divert trouble.

After that holy light passed, the undead suffered heavy losses, but those who died were all low-level undead, and the situation of the Ammun did not improve.

"Anser, look over there." Blatt caught up, sweat beading on his forehead, but his breathing was still fairly even.

Anser followed his gaze and saw that the undead were about to catch up with Amon and his group, and a battle could break out at any moment.

It wasn't that the undead ran fast, but rather that the Stonemasons' Guild had too many elderly, weak, women, and children who couldn't run, and Amon couldn't bear to leave them behind, so he stayed behind to help.

Blatt pursed his lips, his expression tormented, his hand gripping the longsword deathly pale. He didn't want Anser to be in danger, but he couldn't just stand by and watch Amon die.

Emmon has his principles, and Blatter has his own moral bottom line.

"I'm sorry, I have to go help..."

"How are you going to get there?" Anser raised his hand to interrupt him, took off his backpack, and threw it on the ground. "You and Finn take your backpacks and continue westward. Be careful to stay in shape."

I'll go help him. With Nornos there, those undead can't catch me.

Before Blatt could reply, Nornos let out a neigh and leaped down the hill, heading straight for the undead horde.

After a day of practice, and with the help of the saddle, it was finally able to pick up speed, and it was so excited that it ran faster and faster.

Anser raised his hand and cast a light spell on his staff. Nornos had darkvision of 60 feet (≥18 meters), but he didn't.

The movement was so practiced that it unconsciously reminded him of Gandalf, the dual-wielding berserker who could kill with a single swing of his sword.

The distance of several hundred meters flashed by, and the figures of Eamon, Alva, and others came into view.

Seeing Anser approach, Eamon felt grateful, but now was clearly not the time to speak.

He and Alva stopped simultaneously, drew their weapons, and turned to face the enemy. He knew he couldn't leave Anser to cover their retreat alone.

“You go, I’ll fight a guerrilla war,” Anser waved to them, his tone resolute.

He wasn't showing off. With Nornos around, he could fight and run without any worries. Having two more people would only hold him back.

After a moment's hesitation, Eamon and his companion decided to trust him, but they didn't run too far, staying close behind the Stonemasons' Guild to provide support at any time.

Anser focused his mental energy on the zombies; the dice trembled slightly, and soon their information appeared:

[Skeletons, Undead, Challenge Level 1/4]

[Zombies, Undead, Challenge Level 1/4]

The fast runners are skeletons, the slow runners are zombies; the variety is very limited.

'They don't seem very strong.'

However, the undead never tire or become afraid. They often travel in large groups, their bodies consisting of nothing but bones and rotten flesh. No one wants to fight them; they prefer to avoid them.

Anser raised his staff, preparing to test their quality first.

""

Spell Burst - Flames!

The magical light ripped through the night, rapidly traversing a distance of tens of meters before striking the chest with pinpoint accuracy.

"boom--"

The skeleton didn't even flinch; it was blasted away by the sudden burst of flames, its ribs shattered. But it didn't howl or roar; it quickly got up and continued its pursuit.

[You cast Spell Burst on the skeleton... The skeleton was hit, taking 6 points of fire damage, current health 9/15...]

Nornos turned and ran a few steps, widening the distance again.

As soon as it came to a stop, Anser cast another spell, unleashing a powerful burst of magic that triggered a chain reaction of explosions, blasting the skeleton to pieces. [You cast a spell burst on the skeleton... Target dies, gain 45 combat experience]

'This is too easy.' Anser's eyes gleamed as he looked at the sparse undead that had chased after them.

Without dodging or evading, and without wasting magic missiles, isn't this the ideal experience gain?

Thinking of this, he no longer hesitated. He had Nornos run forward a little to create distance, and then used the same trick, unleashing three spells to kill the second skeleton.

[...Target dead, gain 50 combat experience]

The experience varies slightly from skeleton to skeleton, but they are generally similar.

Anser wasn't greedy. He rode Nornos, fighting and retreating at the same time, always maintaining a safe distance, and only attacking the one in front.

The entire attack relies solely on spell bursts, a signature trick of warlocks, surpassed only by the spellcaster's spell burst among all attack tricks.

This led to a strange scene: dozens of humans were running in a long line through the night, followed by Anser, and then scattered undead chasing after them.

These undead were rushing to their deaths; one after another they went up and died. The closest they got to Anser was less than fifty meters away.

Anser was having a blast, taking down four skeletons and a zombie in no time.

Only today did he realize how important a mount is to a spellcaster!
He doesn't need to stand still to output damage, nor does he need to worry about close-range threats. He can cast spells on the move, hit one shot and then move to another place. Monsters with poor movement speed can't even touch him.

In other words, his riding skills were not good enough, and he could not maintain focus and accuracy when the ride was bumpy. Otherwise, if he were to cast spells while riding, he would definitely be a mobile artillery turret.

There weren't many undead left now; only a few zombies were still slowly following under the cover of night. The distant village and the horde of undead were no longer visible.

Anser did not stay where he was and wait for the zombies. He retreated with Amon and the others, not wanting to risk his life for a little experience.

Now he has a deep understanding of the chaos in Faerûn, and this experience... comes to him on its own.
-
On the other side, the Am team looked at the empty camp ahead and the figures that had disappeared into the night, their hearts filled with despair.

He had hoped to use these forty-odd people to share the burden and take the opportunity to break through, but he did not expect the other side to be so vigilant and run away so early.

Looking at the Holy Grail in his hand, he regretted not holding back for a while.

“We are the slave-hunting team of the Nashwar family,” he shouted to those around him. “I know you, servants of the Lord of Bones. We are not enemies…”

“Yes, we are from Am-asmir-Taran…”

"Lord Nashiwar is not far away, think it over carefully..."

The surviving team members also realized what was happening and shouted loudly.

However, no matter how much they shouted, the undead horde's offensive did not weaken in the slightest.

In the shadows, two mysterious figures in black robes embroidered with white human skulls remained silent, their eyes filled with anger.

They had only been gone a few days when their lair was taken over by others. The aura of sacred objects, the stench of blood, and the death-stimulating resurrection array prematurely awakened the slumbering undead.

Not only were the undead forces not up to par, but many of them also went out of control, ruining years of planning.

A man in black robes looked westward, where the night was deep, but the image of the knight with the holy emblem on his chest still lingered in his mind.

“Tyr’s followers.” His voice was solemn.

“I have eyes now,” his companion said in a hoarse voice, his tone harsh.

The followers of the God of Justice love to meddle in other people's business. Once word gets out that this situation is happening here, hordes of believers and paladins will soon come knocking on our door.

Their situation is not good now; they can't cast most of their divine spells, and no matter what they do, they can't get a response from the god of death, Melkor.

They had some bad thoughts and had to stay in the wilderness, where only these spirits could give them a little sense of security.

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(End of this chapter)