Super Magician: The Magic Network Collapsed Again at the Start

Chapter 49 Clear Stupidity

“Let’s go.” Anser patted Blatt on the shoulder.

If he is powerful enough, of course he will intervene, regardless of good or evil, because these slave traders are experienced travelers.

However, when the risks and rewards are not proportional, then it is necessary to weigh them carefully.

As soon as he took a step, a faint magical fluctuation emanated from his backpack, growing stronger and stronger.

'Huh, what's that?'

The backpack was light and didn't contain much; I left the cheap stuff in the hotel room.

He put down his backpack, opened it, and was immediately stunned to find that it was the magic contract that Dorothea had given him.

Dorothea was the old mage who gave him the magic storage ring and protective cloak on credit.

Unfolding the magic contract, the contents on the front remained unchanged, but a thin beam of magical energy appeared on the back, pointing straight towards... his left side.

"Clara, come quick, there's a boat here."

He heard a shout in his ear, his eyes changed, and he immediately flipped over the magic contract. The target that needed to be rescued was none other than Clara!
'A magic contract has this effect?'

He looked up and saw a red-haired young man leading a little girl as he ran quickly towards him.

The little girl was really small, wearing a red cape and carrying a blue backpack. She had a fair face, pointed little ears, and big eyes. She looked to be at most four or five years old.

What's most peculiar is her eyes, one blue and one purple, like two sparkling gems.

'This... I almost got scammed.'

The Magic Contract clearly states that Clara is a professional, but it doesn't mention her age.

He focused his attention on the girl, and the dice quickly displayed her information.

Clara, Elf, Level 1 Warlock

'So he really is a professional?!'

Such a young professional is too unusual; at least Anser can't understand it at all.

At this moment, the red-haired youth squeezed through, glanced around, and frowned slightly when he saw the crowd filling the deck.

The bearded man's eyes lit up at the sight of the little girl. He leaped off the ship's railing and quickly reached the two of them.
"Going to Paros? There are still a few seats left. We're setting sail soon, so come on board."

A crew member jumped down and roughly pushed through the crowd to grab a ladder for him, gesturing for the red-haired youth to go up, while simultaneously reaching out to hug the little girl.

"No need!" The red-haired youth's expression turned cold as he shielded the little girl behind him.

The crew member paused and looked at the bearded man.

"He just wants to help you." The bearded man waved his hand, looking very generous. "We've been on this route for years. The conditions are tough, but it's absolutely safe."

"If you're willing to pay a little extra, I can help you change cabins so you can be more comfortable."

The red-haired youth's expression softened, and seeing the bearded man's sincerity, he was quite tempted.

Anser knew at a glance that something bad was about to happen; the red-haired youth had arrived late and was unaware of many circumstances and details.

He touched the protective cloak that had shielded him from a knife, and Dorothea's aged face involuntarily appeared in his mind.

"Clara!" He strode closer, giving Blatt and the other man a wink.

The red-haired youth and the bearded man were startled. They turned around and saw Anser dressed as a spellcaster, and their expressions were different.

"Who are you? How do you know Clara's name?" The little girl's voice still had a hint of childishness.

Anser walked to her side and knelt down: "Dorothea sent me."

"Oh, is that Auntie?" Clara asked with delight.

“Hmm.” Anser had no idea what their relationship was; all he needed to do was get them to leave. “I’ve booked a room in Moonshadow Quiling. Come with me.”

"Okay."

"Wait." The red-haired youth suddenly blocked Clara's path, his expression wary. "We don't know you."

"You're so stupid, Kafka." Clara gave the young man a hard shove, but couldn't move him. Then she ran to Anser's side angrily, pouting, "How can you not tell the difference between good and bad people? He's a good person, they're the bad ones."

The red-haired youth's expression changed drastically. With a whoosh, he drew his short sword from his waist, turned to face the bearded man, and looked solemn.

He knew that Clara had the ability to distinguish between good and evil since she was a child, and the bad people she was referring to were humans in the evil camp.

The atmosphere at the scene suddenly became subtle.

Those still boarding stopped and dispersed, leaving a large empty space along the ship's side. Those already on board looked anxious; some were bewildered, while others only realized what was happening afterward.

Anser was utterly speechless. This red-haired youth's reaction was too intense; he should have just left.

The bearded man's expression was stiff, and he was very unwilling. This little girl was worth more than all the people on the ship, and he was very confident in his judgment.

But he didn't dare to confront them openly, not out of fear, but because he was worried that the other party would directly expose their identities. Once that got out, they wouldn't be able to come back a second time, regardless of whether they won or lost.

If his source of income is cut off, the boss will definitely tear him apart.

"Haha... The little kid is so cute! Uncle may look a bit fierce, but I'm a good person." He laughed heartily, seemingly not caring at all.

"Fine, if you're not going, then so be it." He waved his hand. "Remove the suspension ladders, that's enough..."

The bearded man and his crew returned to the deck and began to retract the gangway, looking as if they were about to set sail.

Seeing this, the people around relaxed, and many began to complain and sigh again.

“Come with me.” Anser glanced at the red-haired youth.

“This…” Kafka leaned closer and lowered his voice, “Are they slave traders? They’re so blatantly open about it in broad daylight, isn’t anyone doing anything about it?”

"If you want to be a hero, go for it yourself." Anser picked up Clara and left.

The other party dares to be so blatant, they must have something to rely on, and they may even have some kind of business relationship with the Silverscale Bay authorities.

Even if you want to intervene, you can't just rush in alone. They have dozens of crew members, and the paladin knows to call for reinforcements. It's better to leave temporarily and then spread the word about it.

Kafka caught up, still somewhat distrustful of Anser, and wanted to take Clara with him.

Before he could even open his mouth, Anser shoved the magic contract right in front of him, Dorothea Zetkin's signature clearly visible.

Kafka wanted to take a closer look, but Anser put it away again.

"What smells so good?" Clara asked, sniffling as she leaned on Anser's shoulder.

"You haven't eaten?"

Kafka chuckled dryly, "No."

Anser took out the remaining three oat cookies from his backpack, handing one to Clara and two to Kafka.

Clara hummed softly as she ate, seemingly quite pleased with the taste of the oat biscuits.

"How did you escape?" Anser asked without stopping, heading straight for Moonshadow Kuiling.

“We’re taking a boat. The Haita and Manoburn districts haven’t fallen yet, and there are merchant ships docking there…” Kafka said as he ate.

The merchant ships he was referring to were armed merchant ships from Cormir, Moonshadow Sea, and Deepwater City. These ships did not cross the Flying Dragon Bridge; they would reach the Sea Tower District, drop off supplies, pick up passengers, and then return to port.

The goods were all bought up by the Duke, and picking up people was just a side benefit. Each person earned at least a hundred gold coins, and the goods were only delivered to Silverscale Bay or Male Fish Village, making him a fortune.

It turns out that apart from Baldur's Gate getting beaten up, everyone else is making a fortune.

"Why are there only the two of you? Clara...where are your parents?" Anser quietly observed the girl's expression and found that she did not look sad or anything unusual.

“I have never met Clara’s parents; she has always lived with my mentor,” Kafka explained. “My mentor sent a message to disband the Mage Tower and told me to find an opportunity to secretly bring her to Silverscale Bay.”

Anser stopped and stared intently at Kafka:
Kafka, Human, Level 3 Mage (Prophecy School), Level 1 Wanderer

"What's wrong?" Kafka asked, puzzled.

"It's nothing." Anser hadn't expected that this young man, who didn't seem to have much emotional intelligence, was actually a level 3 mage.

He pondered the word "prophecy" repeatedly, and suddenly felt that this encounter might not be a coincidence.

But he wasn't a sorcerer; he didn't know any of the spells of any school of divination, so he couldn't analyze or understand the mysteries involved.

　Thank you to Yarn, Book Friend 20190124165609900, and Mountain and Sea Between Inch for your donations.

　　Sun Elves
　　The Sun Elves, also known as the Gold Elves or Ar'Tel'Quessir, are known for their arrogance and conceit.

　　Many of them considered themselves the chosen ones of Corellon, and believed that other races (even other elves) were inferior to them in terms of technology, purpose, and refinement. They proudly proclaimed themselves "high elves," and indeed, the responsibility for all the great (and sometimes terrible) achievements in the world rested on this race.

　　When reminiscing about and emphasizing their glorious history, the Sun Elves always adhered to the principle of "elven supremacy"—no matter how interesting, excellent, valiant, or remarkable the achievements of other races, elven things possessed an inherent superiority. This attitude distorted the Sun Elves' relationships with other elves, even viewing them as representatives of elven cultural decline or weakening. Some Sun Elves might reject this way of thinking, but this could not change the generally arrogant image of the Sun Elves in the eyes of most Faerûn.

　　In fact, most Sun Elves are also very compassionate and are calm and excellent fighters, but these qualities are often overshadowed by their arrogance.

　　Sun elves have bronze-colored skin. Their eyes are black, or metallic gold or silver, and their hair is black, metallic copper, or golden.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)