Borg said that the people helping Rand hold the road weren't being paid—they were believers, or adventurers and residents with a strong sense of justice.
Ansel wasn't surprised. Churches had always had strong pulling power.
Tyr, the God of Justice, belonged to the war domain. His followers were famously good at fighting—even the ones who weren't classed.
Borg probed a bit, asking what the three of them planned to do next.
After talking it over, Ansel and Bratt decided to stay for now, and Finn also said he wasn't in a hurry to leave.
It was a perfect chance to farm XP, and with paladins covering the front line, it was relatively safe. Behind them was Wyrm's Crossing; if things went south, they could always fall back. The Flaming Fist couldn't be insane enough to seal the bridge completely. Right?
The old priest was delighted. He immediately arranged a room on the second floor for the three of them and provided food and drinking water for free.
It was one room for three, clearly once a cleric's dormitory—plain but very clean.
The food was hard whole-grain bread and strips of smoked pork. Nothing fancy, but there was a lot of it—more than the three of them could finish in a day.
It seemed that during yesterday's evacuation, the church had also collected or confiscated plenty of supplies. Paladins had principles and bottom lines, but they weren't idiots.
Knock, knock, knock…
No sooner had Borg left than there was another knock at the door.
Bratt went to open it. It was Zahir, still covered in blood—apparently he hadn't had time to wash up.
"Sorry, just finished up," Zahir said. "Thank you for your help. These are your spoils."
He set down two bundles. The burlap fell open to reveal a heap of bloodstained odds and ends, and most eye-catching among them, a black warhammer.
"Thanks," Ansel said with a broad smile, making no move to refuse.
In this world, adventuring and combat were everyday occurrences, and from that came plenty of unwritten rules—including how to divide loot.
For example, if a paladin killed a duergar, he could return the duergar's stolen wealth to its original owners or their families. But he had no right to distribute the belongings of monsters killed by Ansel.
Unless they were one formal party, or had agreed on terms beforehand.
Earlier, Bratt was injured, Finn wasn't around, and Ansel had been "overwhelmed by grief for his parents," so Zahir's team had to handle collecting loot themselves.
Given that they were followers of the God of Justice, the odds they'd skimmed anything were very low.
"If you need anything, just come to me. I'm usually on the third floor or in the main hall," Zahir said. He wore a small moustache and spoke in a warm, unhurried tone, like a gentleman.
"Uncle Zahir, do you have any diamonds? I'd like to trade some of this loot for one," Ansel asked without ceremony. He badly needed spell components.
"Probably," Zahir said after a moment's thought. "I'll have someone look. Anything else?"
"That's all." Ansel glanced at Bratt and Finn. They both shook their heads.
"Then get some rest. Creatures from below don't like sunlight. They shouldn't be back during the day." With that, Zahir hurried off. He had plenty left to do.
The three of them exchanged a look, dragged the bundles over, and began sorting the loot.
Ansel's and Bratt's haul was all mixed together. It looked like a lot, but most of it wasn't worth much. Not surprising—they'd only killed slave troops. Any good gear would have been confiscated already.
A few crude scimitars, spiked maces, and iron-rimmed round shields; stinking fur bracers, boots, and belts; unknown food and assorted junk… best they could do was sell it as scrap.
There were quite a few coin pouches, but most were torn and shabby, filled with worthless glass, copper coins, and a little silver.
The best find was a gold filigree purse in elven style, holding a few chunks of blue copper ore, some eye agates, a dozen or so gold coins, and a healing potion.
"Pretty sure that came off the hobgoblin officer. This too," Bratt said, pointing to a half-suit of armor on the floor.
The three javelins went to Finn. The greatsword had likely been kept by Rand. The coin purse and the most valuable piece—the half-plate—went to Ansel. When you added it up, he was clearly getting the better end of the deal.
The half-plate wasn't complete—just a helmet and breastplate—but its condition was decent.
"You take the half-plate for now. Adjust the straps and it should fit," Ansel said. As a caster with no training for armor, wearing it would only interfere with his spellcasting.
"Got it." Bratt nodded. In times like these, this was no time to be picky.
Ansel put all the gold, silver, and gems into the elven coin purse and tucked it into his own robe. The heavy copper coins he had Bratt carry.
The black warhammer came from the duergar warlord. It was a magic weapon, but none of them could use it effectively. They'd have to sell or trade it later.
"Let's dump the trash. Nobody's buying junk right now, and it just slows us down," Ansel suggested.
"I know." Bratt was fiddling with the half-plate, grinning wide and not the least bit embarrassed.
Just then, there was another knock. A young priest handed Ansel a small box. Inside was a silver necklace with a diamond pendant. The gem hadn't been finely cut and was about the size of his index fingernail.
Once he'd confirmed it was usable, the young priest turned to leave, tossing over his shoulder, "Captain Rand asked us to give this to you."
Ansel had been crucial in today's battle—everyone had seen it. This was the church's way of expressing their thanks with a single piece of art.
He stood there in silence for a few seconds, then put the necklace on.
"At least two hundred gold," Bratt estimated. "Keep it. In your hands, it's worth more than its price."
"Yeah. Let's rest a bit," Ansel said, waving it off. Since he'd decided to accept it, there was no point agonizing over it.
He picked the bed tucked furthest into the corner, took off his pack, and lay down, letting every muscle relax. Even his taut nerves finally loosened a little.
For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt genuinely safe.
Bratt felt the same. Three berries weren't enough to fully heal his injuries. Rest was still the best medicine.
Finn glanced at the two of them, then quietly sat down at the table and nibbled at some bread.
Ansel closed his eyes and sank his mind inward. The silver twenty-sided die slowly turned in his thoughts.
To his surprise, the second symbol on it was now fully lit.
"As expected."
He tapped the die. Memory fragments rose up one by one: camping, leveling up, fighting, casting, using a magic item…
Adventure experiences, major events, or achievements? He couldn't be sure, but at least he had a rough idea now.
Looked like he couldn't just sit still going forward. Doing more things could only help.
A moment later, the symbol transformed into a small tree, swaying gently as it floated on the die's surface.
Ding—
[You have gained the adventuring trait: Extraordinary Talent.]
「Extraordinary Talent」: You possess learning ability and talent far beyond the norm. Every 2 levels, you gain a feat. Source unrestricted, type unrestricted.
Ansel froze. It directly alters class progression rules?
Under standard D&D rules, you gained an Ability Score Improvement / feat every 4 levels, and each one had a huge impact on your power.
He tapped the little tree, and a feat selection screen appeared. There were many options, but most were grayed out.
Feats came in four types: origin feats, general feats, fighting style feats, and legendary feats.
Origin feats were tied to your background and race—like a farmer's Toughness—and had no prerequisites.
Other feats all had requirements. Only by meeting those prerequisites could you take them. Legendary feats, for example, required level 19; fighting style feats required specific class features.
Although Extraordinary Talent didn't say he had to meet prerequisites, he still couldn't pick legendary feats or fighting style feats.
After a quick scan, Ansel focused on three feats: War Caster, Spell Sniper, and Gift of the Metallic Dragon.
War Caster would make his casting more stable and faster. Spell Sniper would extend his range and improve accuracy. Gift of the Metallic Dragon would boost his survivability.
He could also choose to raise an ability score by 2—but compared to the feats, that felt like a weaker option.