I'm Not the Sixth

The Duergar Warlord had originally assumed the human caster would exhaust himself after a few spells, but to their dismay, the spells kept coming. Their own psionic spells had a shorter range and couldn't reach him, leaving them seething with resentment.

Seeing that Anse and the archer posed too great a threat, they attempted to shift the battlefield backward, but since everyone was entangled in the fray, a hasty retreat risked triggering a rout.

However, as the Duergar's slaves were cleared out in large numbers, the humans seized the initiative, and the battlefield gradually shifted.

Anse overlooked the fray. The nearest enemy was now over forty meters away, exceeding his theoretical spell range, yet he could still strike them, albeit with reduced accuracy.

It must be related to my spellcasting attribute.

His spellcasting attribute was Charisma, at 16 points—far higher than that of an ordinary person. As his Charisma grew, his casting speed, spell range, and control over magic were all improving slightly.

"Hoo—"

He paused his casting, leaning on his staff to steady his breathing and ease the throbbing pain in his head.

Continuous casting had left him mentally exhausted, with nearly half his mana spent, and a faint sense of emptiness rising within him.

It seemed that even with "Magic Mastery," his mind and body couldn't support him in unleashing all his spells in one go.

"ROAR—"

Suddenly, a massive roar shook the mountains on both sides, causing them to rustle.

Anse started, looking toward the sound to see a bald giant over three meters tall suddenly appear on the battlefield, charging straight at Land.

"Enlarge!"

The Duergar Warlord had entered the fray.

Anse nimbly jumped down the hillside and trotted toward the battlefield.

Helping was secondary; the main reason was that standing on the slope made him too conspicuous. If he accidentally drew the giant's aggro, he would be in trouble.

He took a few quick steps, hid behind the crowd, and observed quietly.

On the battlefield, the bald giant swung his warhammer with terrifying momentum. Land focused primarily on dodging, with only the occasional counterattack.

The two fought so fiercely that those nearby scrambled to avoid being caught in the crossfire.

Anse noticed that Land rarely cast divine spells above the second circle, likely due to the influence of the Weave, whereas the psionics mastered by the Duergar did not rely on it.

Fortunately, it was daytime, and the Duergar suffered from sunlight sensitivity. Coupled with the Paladin's focus on radiant attacks, which countered the opponent well, Land was barely able to hold his own.

Just then, Zahir finished off his opponent and rushed up to join Land in dealing with the bald giant.

Even so, the giant's prowess remained undiminished. With one swing of his hammer, Land was caught off guard and knocked to the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his shield visibly dented.

It's a pity I don't have support spells. Anse sighed inwardly.

He didn't dare launch an attack now; if the giant truly decided to target him, Land might not be able to stop him.

He caught a glimpse of the sun above the giant's head, and a thought struck him: "Sunlight sensitivity!"

As far as he knew, Duergar had resistance to toxins, illusions, and charms, but they suffered a disadvantage in perception under direct sunlight.

His Draconic Bloodline Command Spell would force the target to make a Wisdom saving throw; if they failed, they would be compelled to obey a single command.

His Wisdom shouldn't be high.

With that thought, he hesitated no longer. He quickly approached the battlefield while channeling all his mana.

He stepped out from behind the crowd, his left hand gripping his staff, his right hand pointing at the Duergar Warlord as he roared:

"DROP IT!"

An invisible magical effect enveloped the bald giant. He visibly froze, a flicker of confusion crossing his eyes, and he subconsciously released the warhammer in his hand.

Land's spirit surged. Before the hammer could hit the ground, he stepped forward and kicked it toward Zahir, who snatched it up and hurled it far up the hillside.

The giant hadn't expected to lose his weapon in a moment of distraction. Furious, he turned to find the "sneaky bastard" Anse, only to find that the man had already hidden behind the crowd, where Brat and the others had swarmed up to block his line of sight.

"ROAR... AUGH—"

Land slashed a deep groove into the giant's thigh with his sword, cutting off his roar.

The giant dared not lose focus. He retreated two steps in a hurry, snatched a spear from the ground, and forced Land and Zahir back.

Then, with a wave of his hand, he ran for it!

Seeing this, the other Duergar and slaves turned tail and fled without a second thought.

"ROAR, ROAR, ROAR..."

The humans brandished their weapons, putting on a show of intimidation, but they did not pursue—nor did they have the strength to.

What a waste of so much experience. Anse sighed inwardly, though he knew this was the best possible outcome.

The humans had the Paladin, and they might have won in a head-on fight, but it was hard to say how many would have survived.

Anse scanned the area; only about a dozen people were still standing, and almost all of them were wounded.

The ground was littered with corpses, severed limbs, entrails, and gore. His boots were already caked in bloody mud from those few steps he'd taken, the sticky sensation making his skin crawl.

"Clean up the battlefield, quickly—" Zahir called out to everyone, beginning to use Lay on Hands and healing potions to treat the wounded.

Anse scanned the area, spotted a Goblin that wasn't quite dead yet, and his eyes lit up. He stepped forward and finished it off with a strike of his staff.

Target killed, gained 3 Combat Experience...

The experience was meager, but there was no danger. He curled his lips, revealing a set of stark white teeth.

Brat couldn't help but shudder at the sight. "Such heavy bloodlust."

"Let someone else handle this; you take a break."

He hurried forward to grab Anser, assuming Anser was venting his emotions on the Underdark Creatures out of worry for his parents.

"Uh, alright." Anser didn't insist; maintaining his persona as a normal person was important.

"Are you hurt?"

Brat was covered in blood, his clothes in tatters, looking quite frightening.

"It's nothing, just minor wounds. Thanks to you for looking out for me." Brat shook his head slightly, but the movement tugged at a wound on his neck, making him gasp in pain.

Footsteps approached. The two turned their heads to see Land walking over quickly, his helmet in his left hand. There were bloodstains on the corners of his mouth and ears, and his breastplate had a noticeable dent.

"Many thanks for your help." As he spoke, Land handed a small half-bottle of red liquid to Brat. "This is for you."

"Then I won't stand on ceremony." Brat smiled and reached out to take it, though he didn't use it immediately.

This was a Healing Potion; a full bottle was worth 50 gold coins, so even half a bottle was quite valuable.

"Your heroic deeds deserve more, but unfortunately, I'm running low on potions myself." Land sighed in admiration, then looked at Anser. "This gentleman, have we met somewhere before?"

"Uncle Land, I am Anser Horleywen. Do you remember the Sow's Trotter Bakery?" Anser reminded him.

His Dragon Bloodline had subtly adjusted his appearance and physique, and his temperament was worlds apart from before, making it difficult for anyone but an acquaintance to recognize him.

"You are... little Anser?" Land stared intently at the tiny Dragon Scales on Anser's face, unable to believe it.

The two hadn't seen each other for years, and he simply couldn't connect the confident, mysterious spellcaster before him with the thin, small boy from his memories.

"It's me. I accidentally awakened my bloodline and became a Sorcerer," Anser said with a smile.

"Good, that's truly good." Land patted his arm, bowing his head slightly with a complex expression, a hint of hesitation showing at the corners of his eyes.

Land wasn't tall, only about 1.7 meters. Anser was half a head taller than him; he couldn't see Land's expression, but he could sense that he was holding something back.

"What's wrong?"

"You... don't go back to the bakery." Land was silent for a moment before deciding to tell him.

Anser's heart skipped a beat. "Did something happen to my parents?"

"Yes. We were evacuating the citizens yesterday, but your parents refused to leave. They wanted to find you, and even after the priests tried to persuade them, they wouldn't budge. Later, rioters broke into the bakery to loot it... By the time we found out, it was too late. We could only bury the bodies in a hurry..."

Land gripped Anser's arm tightly, as if afraid he might suddenly lose control.

Anser's breathing grew heavy, his emotions surging and complex, yet he felt no great sorrow or regret—only a sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted.

Though it was a bit heartless, this was his true feeling.

After all... he was not the original owner of this body.