On the battlefield, Rand brought an orc crashing down with a sword strike—but it wasn't a kill.
The orc scrambled back to its feet, let out a roar, lifted its shield, and slammed forward again. There was fear in its eyes, but no hesitation.
Suddenly, footsteps pounded from behind. Out of the corner of his eye, Rand saw two figures rushing toward them.
His eyes lit up and he shouted, "Reinforcements! Hold the line!"
It was a tactic. He didn't believe two people could change much—but it was enough to boost morale.
Sure enough, the humans' spirits lifted, even though most of them had no time to look and see how many had actually come.
At the edge of the battlefield—
Ansel slowed his pace. The chaos made it hard for a caster to just wade in.
Spotting the low slopes on both sides of the road, a thought clicked into place. He changed direction, took a running start, and leapt up the side, beginning to climb.
The slope wasn't that steep. After a few moves he'd gotten six or seven meters up and found a foothold. He straightened and looked down. The battlefield lay only twenty-plus meters ahead—completely exposed in his line of sight.
Perfect. Ansel's heart leapt with delight.
Down below, Bratt had just entered the fray. He glanced back and only relaxed when he saw Ansel's silhouette on the slope.
Ansel gave him a quick nod, then cast Mold Earth to raise a low stone wall about a meter high in front of him.
It looked like he was wasting time, but in reality he was setting up an advantage.
Height gave him a bonus to accuracy, and his spells wouldn't be blocked by friendlies or obstacles. The low wall was cover—simple, practical, and made him harder to hit.
His gaze swept across the battlefield and locked onto goblins armed with bows and crossbows.
"જાદુઈવિસ્ફોટ."
Sorcerous Burst—Fire!
In less than half a second, a dense mass of spell energy burst from the tip of his staff, flashed over everyone's heads, and slammed into a goblin's chest with a boom.
Thud, thud—
The goblin bounced like it had taken two sledgehammers to the chest, then crashed to the ground. Its ribcage caved in, blood streamed from its facial features, and after a few spasms it lay still.
[You cast Sorcerous Burst on a Goblin… The Goblin is hit and takes 13 (8+5) fire damage. Killing blow. Target dead. You gain 50 combat XP. Level up...]
Level up.
His luck was good this time—he triggered a chain explosion, and the goblin with only 7 HP went down in one hit.
On the field, Rand saw this and felt a surge of joy.
Spellcasters weren't rare, but one who could still cast efficiently and accurately with the Weave in turmoil was incredibly precious. Even using his own Divine Smite was taking considerable effort, never mind low-level casters.
Ansel didn't spare that a second thought. He ducked down again and pulled up his character sheet.
When an adventurer leveled up, they could either advance their current class or multiclass—a choice between specialization and versatility.
Ansel unhesitatingly chose to advance as a sorcerer.
[Level Up: Sorcerer 2! You gain two new class features and may learn new spells.]
There was no time to inspect the new features. He quickly locked in a new spell: Magic Missile.
Called "magic rockets" as a joke, Magic Missile created three glowing darts of force. Each dart dealt 1d4 (1–4) + 1 force damage, with a base range of 120 feet (~36 m), and they homed in on targets—they simply couldn't miss.
For low-level casters facing stronger foes, the most awkward problem was: you can't hit them.
High-level characters had better stats, more features, and more skills. They could dodge and reposition constantly. No matter how strong your spell was, if you couldn't hit, it was worthless.
Magic Missile solved that problem perfectly.
Ansel stood up, magical light flickering in his eyes as everything he knew about the spell surged to the surface of his mind.
After a few seconds, he locked onto Bratt's opponent.
It was a bugbear, half a head taller than Bratt. It wasn't as strong as Bratt, but it had a full set of hide armor and carried a shield and a spiked mace, keeping steady pressure on him.
"મેજિકમિસાઇલ!"
(Magic Missile.)
Three glowing darts shot out almost simultaneously, tracing strange, twisting arcs through the air before shrieking into the bugbear.
Caught off guard, the bugbear barely managed to jerk its shield up, but it was too late. The darts slammed into its head, chest, and arm in succession, bursting into little sprays of blood.
[You successfully cast the 1st-level spell Magic Missile. Your understanding of your innate magic deepens. You gain 1 class XP...]
[You cast Magic Missile on a Bugbear… The Bugbear is hit and takes 12 force damage. Current HP: 9/27...]
One XP per cast? Ansel was speechless.
On the ground, Bratt froze for a heartbeat, then reacted at once—he lunged, driving his sword into the bugbear's armpit as it lost its balance, piercing straight into its heart.
[Target dead. You gain 31 combat XP...]
Human morale surged. These armored bugbears were a huge problem on the field; even taking out one eased a lot of pressure.
In the rear, the duergar shouted orders. Several orcs and goblins tried to rush Ansel's position, but Bratt and the other fighters held them back.
"Watch out!" Rand yelled, turning his head.
Ansel looked up just in time to see a black glint expanding in his vision. His scalp prickled. He dropped into a crouch, ducking completely behind his low wall.
Whoosh—
A javelin screamed past, skimming no more than half a foot over the top of the wall. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Shit!"
He immediately leaned out to one side and looked down at the field.
A burly hobgoblin—red-skinned, pointed ears, half plate armor—was setting up for a second throw.
Just then, an arrow came whistling in from higher up. The hobgoblin flinched aside, but still took the shot in the arm.
Ansel looked up. At some point, a human archer had appeared on the slope, bow drawn and ready.
Furious and humiliated, the hobgoblin switched targets to the closer archer.
Perfect chance.
Ansel surged to his feet and locked onto the hobgoblin with his mind.
"મેજિકમિસાઇલ!"
(Magic Missile.)
Three glowing darts carved through the air with a tingling whine, crossing the battlefield even faster than the javelin.
The hobgoblin tried to roll clear. The darts adjusted slightly mid-flight and slammed home anyway, all three exploding against his now-exposed backside.
"Aaaargh—!"
The shriek that followed made everyone present instinctively clench.
[You cast Magic Missile on a Hobgoblin Officer… The Hobgoblin Officer is hit and takes 20 (critical) force damage. Current HP: 35/58...]
Thwip-thwip-thwip—three more arrows followed right after.
The officer relied on instinct, rolling away across the ground. His plate turned aside most of the shots, but one arrow still hit his leg, kicking up a spray of blood.
"મેજિકમિસાઇલ!"
When the ringing Draconic syllables rolled over the battlefield, the missiles were already incoming.
Realizing he couldn't dodge, the hobgoblin crossed his arms to block and braced to take them head-on.
Boom, boom, boom—
[…The Hobgoblin Officer is hit and takes 7 force damage. Current HP: 24/58...]
Damn, he's tough. Ansel panted slightly, calming the turbulence in his magic.
If he were a normal sorcerer, his spell slots would have been long gone—or he'd have been too exhausted to continue. Fighting two Challenge Ratings above you was no joke.
Fortunately, he wasn't normal. With his level-up, he now had 11 mana—more than enough to blast the guy to death.
By then, Rand had already finished off his opponent. With a few big strides, he closed in on the hobgoblin officer, knocked aside his guard with one swing, and took his head with the next.
[Target dead. You gain 190 combat XP...]
That's a lot of XP. Ansel was grinning on the inside.
Shame he hadn't gotten the killing blow—he'd noticed that if he didn't deal the final hit, he earned much less. Still, as long as he personally participated, he got something.
With the main threat gone, he planted his staff in one hand and let the wind tug at his clothes, turning himself into a spell-slinging machine—spell after spell flying out, fast and precise.
"જાદુઈવિસ્ફોટ."
"…"
Mana wasn't limitless, so he tried to rely on Sorcerous Burst, focusing on backline archers and unarmored goblin mooks, occasionally taking pressure off Bratt.
Cantrips didn't auto-hit, and moving targets were hard to tag. It was risky to sling them into the melee—if he hit an ally in the chaos, it'd be devastating for morale.
"Boom—!"
One unlucky goblin mook triggered a chain explosion. Its face was obliterated and it dropped in place like a felled post.
[…Target dead. You gain 37 combat XP...]
By this point, at least six or seven goblins had died directly or indirectly to his spells.
Chances like this were rare. Wave after wave of XP washing over him felt like chugging ice-cold soda on a forty-degree summer day—so satisfying it was almost addictive.