Super Magician: The Magic Network Collapsed Again at the Start

Chapter 56: What's it like to have your story turned into a song?

The sun outside the window began to set, the sunlight was no longer scorching, and the crowds on the street gradually increased.

Anser had just woken from his meditation, his stomach growling with hunger, but he was full of energy and magic.

Many people don't understand that there is a fundamental difference between the meditation practices of warlocks and mages.

A mage's meditation is an essential daily practice that requires a high degree of concentration. Its main purpose is to review and understand spell models and prepare spells through the magic network and spellbooks, which is very mentally taxing.

Warlocks rely on innate magic and do not need to prepare spells. They can restore spell slots or mana even while sleeping. So-called meditation only speeds up this process, which is very easy.

The room was dimly lit with the curtains drawn. Neither of the two men, Blatt and his companion, were in the room. A row of muskets sat in the corner, clean and gleaming, and there was a faint smell of gunpowder in the air.

Anser picked up a musket with a wooden frame and a long barrel. It came with a cleaning rod for probing bullets or cleaning the barrel. The bullets were made of lead and didn't look very neat.

He wasn't an antique gun enthusiast, but he vaguely remembered that lead bullets later evolved to include conical bullets and paper-cased cartridges.

'If there are too few of these, they won't pose much of a threat.'

The biggest threat is the uncertainty of bullets, because even the shooter doesn't know where the bullet will land.

Anser wasn't very interested in the musket, so he put it down and got up to knock on the door across the hall.

The door opened, and Finn, seeing him, grinned, revealing a set of slightly crooked teeth: "You're awake."

"What's going on with the Conch Shell? Where's the guard?"

Finn closed the door, his eyes somewhat confused: "The Conch has dropped anchor, and the guards are nowhere to be found. They haven't made any moves, so they didn't call you."

Anser frowned, somewhat puzzled as to what the guards were afraid of, or whether they were also participants in the slave trade.

The Baldur's Gate incident just happened, the three Grand Dukes are still here, and these people are already in a hurry to find a new employer?

He walked a few steps to the window, from where he could see most of Silverscale Bay.

On the bay, many ships came and went. The "Conch" was drifting in a secluded area of ​​the sea, two or three kilometers from the shore. There were many people busy on the deck, and it looked like they were still repairing the ship.

Anser squinted, feeling inexplicably annoyed: "Keep an eye on things at the window for a while, and let Gray Eagle come back to rest. We'll have to put it through some work tonight."

Finn paused for a moment, then said, "Okay."

"How much money did you lose?" Anser looked down and saw that the garden was clean and the plants had obvious signs of trimming.

Nornos was carrying little Clara for a walk in the garden, his saddle fully in place. He trotted along with his little feet, his movements slightly undulating, making the little elf giggle incessantly.

Blatt and Dara stood guard on either side of him, creating a heartwarming scene.

“No money was lost.” Finn shrugged.

"Hmm, not bad." Anser was a little surprised. "I'm going to eat. Call me if you need anything."

"Ah."

Anser did not disturb Blatt and the others, and entered the treehouse restaurant alone.

It was only mid-afternoon, and the restaurant was completely empty, with not a single customer, only a few waiters busy cleaning.

He sat down at the bar and ordered elf bread, grilled fish, vegetable stew, and herbal tea from the waiter. He hadn't eaten anything for a while, and he felt like he could eat a whole cow.

The food hadn't arrived, but Caleno rushed over after hearing the news.

"You're famous now." He plopped down opposite Anser and casually placed a glass of honey wine in front of him.

"Won't it be a bad reputation?" Anser teased.

"Your fame!" Careno spread his arms wide, his expression exaggerated. "It's spread all over Silverscale Bay, and there are even bards who have turned your story into songs."

"Oh, and the titles too: Ash Knight, Scale of Justice, Messenger of Burning Sins, Black Knight... How about that? Sounds pretty impressive, right? I named him Ash Knight." "I really thank you." Anser's lips twitched. He didn't want fame; fame brought trouble.

Besides, this title is just too embarrassing, incredibly awkward. But there's nothing we can do about it; it's one of the characteristics of Faerûn – anyone with even a little bit of fame has a bunch of titles or honors.

Some professionals are shameless and even give themselves titles, each one more outrageous than the last.

However, titles represent prestige, and prestige is indeed very useful in Toril.

It inherently represents class status and group recognition. High prestige brings many advantages, such as easier access to certain people's trust, access to places others cannot enter, and the ability to meet people others cannot see...

For example, if you want to customize a high-quality magical item, you might not even be able to meet a master without a certain reputation.

The downside is also obvious: some forces will see him as a mortal enemy!

"You're welcome." Careno completely failed to understand Anser's meaning.

“I want to ask you something,” Anser suddenly lowered his voice.

"Go on," Kaleno said, suddenly intrigued.

"That slave ship, the Conch...whose is it?"

Kaleino's expression turned serious, and he said in a low voice, "I heard from my sister that they should belong to the Nashval family, one of the five great families of Amn. Many slave traders are more or less connected to them..."

The slave trade has been rampant lately, almost to the point of being out in the open. Some people are so desperate that they even voluntarily sell themselves into slavery. The authorities can't control it, nor do they want to.

Those refugees are destabilizing factors and are not well-liked by the ruling officials, who would prefer to have as few as possible.

“I’ve heard of them.” Anser picked up his glass and drank it all in one gulp, his mind churning with emotions. He never expected to run into them again.

No wonder there's a saying in Faerûn: Where there are people, there are slave traders!
'That makes it even more imperative that we don't let you off the hook.'

The actions of slave traders today reveal Nashwar's true character. They will never give up easily; backing down is useless. Strike first to gain experience and make some extra money.

However, the Conch Shell is at sea, armed with guns, cannons, and professionals, making it difficult to deal with.

He silently recalled all the spells he knew, and finally focused on a second-circle spell: Shapeshift!

With the boarding issue resolved, he kept calculating the battle ahead.

Seeing that Anser was lost in thought, Careno didn't want to disturb him, so he quietly got up and left.
-
Late at night, Anser packed his belongings piece by piece.

Bring the Azure Poison Blade and the Fireworks Wand, but leave the Treasure Pouch, Divine Berry Staff, Synergy Emblem, and Guardian Grail behind.

He needs to go diving, so he shouldn't bring too much stuff. The Holy Symbol and the Holy Grail are not very useful for a night raid on the water, and their sacred aura can easily give him away.

There are very few spellcasters in Amn, and with the magic network in disarray, there's no need to worry about spell damage.

The reason for carrying the Firework Wand is simply because the Divine Berry Wand is too bulky. The wand is short, only about 30 centimeters long, and easy to carry. This is also why spellcasters prefer wands.

"Are you really going? Isn't it too dangerous?" Blatt asked, his voice filled with worry.

“There’s no danger. I’ll just hide in the water, and they won’t be able to do anything about it. The initiative is in my hands.” Anser had rehearsed this in his mind many times and was confident.

"Send a signal if there is any danger, and we will be ready at any time."

"Okay, don't turn off the lights. Wear hoodies and loiter around the windows, pretending there are people in both rooms."

Before the two could express their doubts, Anser chanted a spell, and a flash of light appeared, his appearance had changed drastically.

He was tall and muscular, with a bronze complexion, dreadlocks combed back, and a giant axe on his back, engraved with the flaming sword saint emblem of Tempas, the god of war.

(End of this chapter)