The Equipment section of his Character Sheet had gained a full four magic items, two of which were shrouded in a layer of black-red light.
They were the Wight's bow and blade, common-quality magic items, but both carried the same curse.
Wasting Curse: The user must make a moderate Constitution Saving Throw (18) once per day. On a failure, Necrotic Damage ravages their body, harming their vitality and reducing their maximum hit points by 1.
"Pretty useless." Anse sighed inwardly.
Necrotic Damage directly affected a target's vitality, causing disease, inflicting curses, or reducing their maximum hit points. Minor cases could heal naturally, but severe ones could cause permanent damage.
Anyone who used a weapon bearing the Wasting Curse without knowing what it did would grow weaker and weaker.
The other two magic items were more ordinary: a Bastard Sword and a silver cup.
The Bastard Sword had belonged to the Amn Captain. Named the "Silent Sword," it was of fine quality, with the traits "Tenacity" and "Wind Slash."
"Wind Slash" was fairly rare. It let the sword swing almost silently and strike faster.
The sword was valuable. Warrior weapons were always in short supply, but he wasn't going to sell it for now.
What delighted Anse most was the silver cup glimmering with flecks of gold and white light.
[Magic Item: Guardian Holy Grail] "Category": Wondrous Item "Rarity": Rare A sacred item from the Church of the God of Protection, containing pure Light power. "Sobering Aura": When resisting spells that affect the mind, such as Sleep, Suggestion, and Confusion, gain +2 to Saving Throws. "Guardian Radiance": When activated, it releases a blaze-like glow over a designated area, dealing 1d8 (1–8) Radiant Damage. If the target is a Fiendish creature or Undead, the damage increases by 1d8. Each charge covers a 5-foot (1.5-meter) square. For every 10 charges, it deals an additional 1d8 Radiant Damage, up to a maximum of 3d8 (3–24). Current charges: 0/30. When worn close to the body, each time you act with vigilance, protectiveness, or fidelity to your word of your own free will and with genuine intent, the Holy Grail resonates with life and the Light Domain, granting 1 charge. Heim followers can gain 1 additional charge per day.
"Heim?"
Anse took out the Holy Grail and gave it a quick wipe. Sure enough, he found Heim's iron gauntlet holy symbol engraved on the bottom.
Heim was the God of Protection, vigilance, and guardianship, presiding over the domains of life and light. He guided his followers to stay alert, keep clear heads, and honor their promises.
"Powerful, but demanding." Anse wasn't sure what else to call the holy relic.
At full charge, its damage was on par with Prismatic Sphere. But Prismatic Sphere dealt damage to a single target, while Guardian Radiance could cover an area 45 meters across. There was no comparison.
More importantly, it didn't require attunement. Anyone who held it could use it; it was just that most people would have trouble drawing out its core power.
"Of your own free will" meant that the user's motives and actions both had to meet the requirements. The motive even mattered more than the result. A lucky accident wouldn't count.
But if someone kept living up to the Holy Grail's demands, wouldn't they eventually become a follower of Heim?
"Whoever came up with this Holy Grail must have had eight hundred tricks up their sleeve."
"The Sobering Aura isn't bad either. It'll do."
He tied the Holy Grail to a chain and tucked it inside his cloak with his holy symbol.
These items were all spoils from a battle he'd fought alone, so they were his to do with as he pleased.
Those Amnians were rich. The weapons and equipment they'd dumped in the lake were probably good, too, but he wasn't planning to fish them out. They had accomplices, and he could deal with that another time.
Or perhaps he could make a treasure map in his spare time. Treasure maps might sell well, too.
At daybreak, the group formed a long line as they crossed the wilderness.
Dozens of people, bringing their families and all their belongings, trudged along in a sorry state, looking like refugees.
The man at the head of the group rode a black stallion over two meters tall. Cloaked in black, he kept climbing to high ground and pausing to look around.
But the wilderness stretched endlessly, with no clear landmarks to use for navigation.
Anse sighed and casually shoved the map into his backpack.
He'd leave the navigation to Finn from now on. He really wasn't cut out for it. Even with a three-dimensional map showing his location, he'd gotten lost while playing games. This was a far more challenging situation.
Just then, Emon came hurrying up from behind and waved to him from a distance.
Anse patted his horse's flank. Noronos turned and trotted down the slope.
"Anse, no one's following us, right?"
"No."
"Good. We should split up here, then. Our people can't go on. We need to rest for half a day." Emon didn't want to burden Anse by relying on his connection to Brat.
Anse was a Spellcaster. His time wasn't the same as an ordinary person's.
"We'll rest for a while, too. Take a short nap, then get moving again." Anse nodded.
"Sounds good."
As he watched Emon bustle around, setting up camp, reassuring the people, and making food, Anse couldn't help but reflect.
Everyone had to make their own choices. In this life, he only wanted to take good care of himself.
In his previous life, many people said they owed this person or that person. But in truth, the person they owed most was themselves.
Anse beckoned to Brat and the other person, and they found a separate patch of dry, elevated ground.
They didn't cook this time. The three of them sat side by side, each holding a bag of emergency rations.
Emergency rations were a jumble of cheese, sausage, cured meat, dried fruit, and salted crackers. They weren't too bad.
After a whole night of trouble, everyone was hungry and ate with gusto.
"Thank you, Anse," Brat said suddenly.
Anse smiled but didn't answer.
Looking at everything that had happened, he'd helped Brat a lot, but each time, the risks had been small. At Flying Dragon Bridge, when the Javelin came flying, Brat had known he might die—and still stood firmly in front of him.
How many people could do that?
"Do you want the Void-Piercing Sword? It should be a little better than the one you've got." He changed the subject.
"I'm not used to a Bastard Sword." Brat shook his head. "Sword and Shield suits me better."
His Fighting Style was "Intercept." He was used to a one-handed sword, while shields and throwing axes weren't his strong suit.
"Teach me some melee techniques sometime. Unarmed combat, daggers, or long swords." Anse's Polymorph was better suited to close combat.
The Sorcerer class already granted proficiency with Simple Weapons, such as daggers, quarterstaves, and sickles. Learning to use Martial Weapons or fight unarmed wouldn't be too difficult.
"Sure." Brat agreed at once.
Just then, an eagle cried out overhead. Finn froze, his eyes going blank.
After a long while, he turned to Anse. "A group has come out of Cloakwood Forest. They've got a few carriages with enclosed wagons. They're heading toward... Giant Red Deer Village."
"Nahival." Anse suddenly remembered the threat the Amnian had made before he died.
"Nahival?" Brat exclaimed. "The Nahival family, one of the five great families of Amn?"
"Probably." Anse knew about the Council of Five Elders of Amn, but not exactly which five families were part of it.
"Nahival controls Esmirtalan. They deal mainly in mining and the slave trade, and their influence reaches across half of the Sword Coast. They're powerful. We'd better be careful. Nahival never let a grudge go."
Brat had lived in Amn for a while and knew more about the tyranny and greed of the Five Elders.
There were no secrets in this world. Even the dead and their spirits could talk, so it was only a matter of time before people found out.
"Let them come. They're just a bunch of slavers." Anse talked tough, but inwardly, he was on guard.
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