Walking out from the ship's cargo hold, Charles stared up at the gigantic warship and found himself lost in thought.
Spoils of war were well and good—but just how was he supposed to take them all with him?
The Bag of Holding only had so much space. Sure, it was fine for odds and ends, but there was no way it could fit over a hundred full sets of armor and all the weapons on top.
If he just sailed the whole ship away...
At that moment, Hattie hopped aboard, her icy gaze locked on the line of kneeling, surrendered Duergar. Charles turned to her and asked, "Hattie, if you were the one sailing this ship, would its speed be affected at all?"
He was considering simply swapping ships—ditching the small boat they'd found (which he had no attachment to anyway) and taking this one instead.
The real question was whether Hattie could handle such a big ship. If yes, then that was the plan; if no, he'd have to abandon some of the spoils to make a quick getaway.
What he didn't know was that, barely an hour had passed, and Hattie was already feeling an unbearable fullness—her body's energies were building, and she was desperate for a way to let it all out.
She didn't hesitate. "No problem, Priest! Actually, this ship is better designed to cut through water—it gets less resistance. It's heavy, sure, so acceleration might take more effort, but once we're up to full speed, it might even outrun the small boat!"
She shot a disdainful glance back at the kuo-toa-made skiff. The kuo-toa were aquatic hunters but just barely tamed their insane, primitive instincts to craft boats at all, let alone decent ones.
While this particular tribe had made some progress—trading outside and learning the basics of boatbuilding—even so, Hattie had felt every moment of strain pushing the thing along.
Hearing this, Charles's eyes lit up. He hadn't expected things to work out so perfectly. Smiling, he nodded to Hattie, "Great, then let's switch ships and set out right away!"
He then turned his gaze to the Duergar, still lined up on deck, and any lingering warmth dropped from his voice—only coldness remained. "You! All of you, down to the lowest deck. Keep rowing. I promise, once we reach our destination, you'll get your freedom."
...
"Ah—ah—!"
In Sulpharlo's hideout, a naked Dark Angel lay sprawled across a large bed, her lower belly swollen, muscular thighs stretched to their limit.
Her face was bright red, forehead slick with sweat—clear signs of intense agony. Beside her, Malena gripped her hand, voice trembling with anxious encouragement, "Hold on! Almost there, just a little more, you're doing great, come on!"
Malena's own belly was also swollen—as if eight months pregnant herself—yet she put on a brave face, guiding this poor girl through what could only be called... egg-laying.
"Oh—!"
At last, with a final cry, the girl's belly slowly flattened. Sulpharlo, bent over and working below, sat up with a satisfied smile. "Very good. It's not perfect, but all in all, it went smoothly!"
She raised her hands, revealing a football-shaped, amber-hued object slick with a bit of mucus.
In the center of this translucent amber, a tiny infant lay asleep.
Malena looked up, concern twisting her features. If this process could succeed once, then all the other Dark Angels could replicate themselves, too: endless copies in the world, unstoppable by anyone...
Worry filled her heart, but she forced a smile and said to Sulpharlo, "Congratulations, Ancestor!"
Sulpharlo looked immensely pleased, but her face quickly shifted as she stashed the amber cocoon away. "Take care of her, Malena—I've got a distinguished guest. I'll be back soon!"
Distinguished guest?
Malena's expression flickered. In all this time, she'd never once seen a guest visit. She nodded calmly, embracing the weak, exhausted Dark Angel and whispering comfort, "You did great, you're so strong. It's all over now—the pain has passed…"
The girl wrapped her arms around Malena's waist, voice shaky, "I was so scared. It hurt so much. I thought I was dying... sob sob…"
Her tears tugged at Malena's heartstrings. She gently patted the girl's back until she calmed, then shot a curious glance toward the door.
Just who was this "distinguished guest"?
She crept silently to the doorway, peeking through a crack. Sulpharlo hadn't closed the door fully, so Malena could spy from the shadows.
Before she saw the guest, she heard her: "You dare ask me that? You seriously expect me to fight a war with my angels naked and unarmed? If you won't supply weapons and armor, what exactly am I supposed to do?"
"I had no choice but to make a deal with the Duergar. If you don't want me to break our agreement, then you provide full armaments—otherwise, this is how it is!"
Malena couldn't follow all the words, but she saw Sulpharlo's graceful silhouette confronting another figure.
Then came a raspy woman's voice, mangling the Common Tongue: "You know enchanted weapons are rare, and full-body armor costs a fortune. There's no way we can deliver that much gear in one shipment…"
Malena squinted, finally realizing—Sulpharlo was speaking with a Dark Elf! This room was poorly lit, and the woman's trademark white hair was hidden under a cloak, making her hard to spot at first.
"Then forget it," Sulpharlo waved dismissively. "Or you can go raid the Duergar flotilla. They're still somewhere on the Darklake, who knows when they'll arrive."
She smirked, expression cruel: "I haven't even paid the balance yet. If you kill them and steal the cargo, I can just stiff them on the bill, too."
Sulpharlo spoke lightly, but she was sure the Dark Elves wouldn't want any trouble with Duergar—Dwarves were one of the few powers in the Underdark who could go toe-to-toe with the Dark Elves.
"Let's drop this for now, Madam Sulpharlo." The Dark Elf relented, tone cold and impatient. "The Matriarch was hoping for results. She's quite disappointed you haven't provided any yet."
"When are you going to give her something to be impressed by?"
No results?
Wait, that's not right…
Malena glanced at the sleeping, frail Dark Angel on the bed. Was the Ancestor lying to them?
Well… she supposed it made sense. Dark Elves were sly, treacherous, and untrustworthy. It was smart to be cautious around them.
Still, no matter the strategy, making a deal with Dark Elves was always dangerous—like making a pact with a hungry tiger.
Malena felt anxiety tighten in her chest. At the front of the house, Sulpharlo snorted dismissively, "I already said this experiment takes a lot of resources. Don't expect results if you're not prepared to pay!"
"But fortune favors us—tomorrow night is the Twin Moons Night. After tomorrow, I'll be able to give your Matriarch exactly what she wants."
The Dark Elf nodded. "Good, the Matriarch looks forward to it."
"We trust in your skills. With your breakthrough, the elves will rise again, reclaiming our former glory!"
...
The next afternoon.
They docked the Duergar ship at the appointed riverbank—never mind how much trouble restarting the beached vessel would be—Charles led everyone ashore, checked the map, and exhaled hard: "We're running low on time. Everyone, we must find Sulpharlo before sundown tonight!"
The delays on the trip had added up. Darklake might seem calm, but plenty of monsters lurked below: water trolls, giant octopi, and plenty more all slowed their progress.
Thankfully, Hattie had pushed the big ship at any cost, so they landed just half a day before the Night of the Witches.
Even so, time was tight—they'd need to march at a forced pace to make it.
Hanni hurried after Charles, frowning, "You're being way too hard on Hattie, making her run herself ragged at the helm! If you don't feel bad, I do…"
She squeezed Hattie's hand with concern, but Hattie didn't buy it. "I'm not tired. I can keep going just fine. The Priest is right—we have to move quickly. Tonight is our best shot."
Hanni was rebuffed, but just pouted and fell in line. Nymeria also frowned, clearly perplexed: "Priest, why the rush? Did you sense something?"
Adele chimed in, "When Mother and I were on the ship, we predicted Twin Moons Night was close. Priest, you must have considered that too, right?"
As a druid, Adele could somewhat forecast the onset of Twin Moons Night…but it wasn't exact. Even with the signs glaring, she hadn't realized tonight was the night.
Charles nodded. "Exactly. To be precise—the Night of the Witches is tonight!"
"Sulpharlo will make her move soon. We need to stop her tonight—or disaster will follow!"
He couldn't exactly tell them he'd gain infinite magic on Twin Moons Night—that would expose the witches' true nature. He had to keep things vague, urging speed: "No time to lose! Everyone, let's move—double time!"
Thanks to the authority he'd earned, the girls all agreed, with only a small grumble from Hanni before she caught up.
In recent days, Sophia and Hanni had copied some basic first-level spells into a new spellbook—Mage Armor, Longstrider, False Life, Shield, Absorb Elements, and so on—anything to help her stay alive.
Hanni wasn't some mighty mage, but at least she now had the basics for battle. Charles hadn't brought her along for her firepower—her support spells more than paid her debt.
Everyone layered up on enchantments, then pushed ahead with all the speed they could muster. Lotuen, the beholder, stayed behind—after all, he was just a guide, not interested in life-or-death combat, and someone had to watch the boat (and the captured Duergar).
Charles didn't argue, leading those willing to follow. Even with magic to help, a forced march under these conditions was grueling—they had to stop and rest every hour or so or risk collapse.
This wasn't a smooth road but a rocky, hazardous track. Sometimes weird fungi grew—ones that spewed poison gas, drove people insane, or straight-up exploded.
Even so, their progress was impressive—nearly forty kilometers in a single afternoon. According to their map, their destination was just ahead.
By now, the sun was setting. Right then, the countdown on Charles's system hit zero!
Twin moons rose together, their gravity thinning the world's barrier. Chaos energy roared in, unraveling all ties.
Suddenly, Charles felt a surge—a torrent of unseen magic flowing along his bond with the witches, rushing into his body.
He understood at once: the Night of the Witches had begun!
But right then, Charles's heart skipped a beat.
For some reason, he felt a blood-deep connection calling him, tugging him toward a certain place: if he reached it, he'd find a happiness, a delight, he'd never known.
His pulse pounded. Frowning, he asked over his shoulder, "Sophia, check the map—how close are we now?"
Sophia opened the map, marked their location, and said, "We're here. If we didn't miss anything, Sulpharlo's old nest should be nearby!"
Charles nodded—only for a wave of dread to suddenly crash into his mind.
His expression went rigid with shock. Instinctively, he threw himself into a roll—
Shwing—!
Deadly arrows whistled past, embedding deep into the nearby stone, their shafts quivering.
Charles twisted, staring at the arrow shafts jutting from the rock, his face darkening. He recognized them at once—arrows with anti-magic properties, easily piercing the protection of his "Supernatural Gift," and beyond lethal.
He whirled and shouted, "Theresa—light!"
Theresa responded at once, casting a radiant spell forward. In the sudden glare, he saw a small, compact shadow—maybe five foot two, athletic, agile—bolt away with a light crossbow, vanishing into a side tunnel.
Obviously, after missing the shot, that enemy wanted nothing to do with a stand-up fight.
Charles narrowed his eyes—Trouble. A Dark Elf!
Damn it, still had to face these guys head-on!
But he kept his cool. He'd known from the start that Sulpharlo was deeply entwined with the Dark Elves—even the land route here was blocked by them, as Lotuen had warned.
They'd tried the water route to avoid alerting the enemy.
No matter. They had a plan!
"Don't engage them!" Charles barked. "Theresa, blind them with sunlight! We need to push through—don't lose momentum!"
This was enemy territory—lingering only favored their foes. Quick and decisive was their best bet!
Theresa understood, chanting "Dawn" again. Sunlight flooded the dark cavern, filling it with brilliant light.
She floated up, racing ahead and clearing the way. Charles hurried after her, forcing himself onward into the deeper cave.
At the entrance, a sudden psychic resonance struck his mind—his heart pounded. It was as if he could hear the wail of an infant, a bloodlink calling him: "Father! I'm in danger, help me!"
What was going on?
A hallucination?
No—it shouldn't be possible. He had Eldritch Mind protecting him; such a basic trick shouldn't even touch his will!
There had to be something special here—something powerful enough to affect him like this!
He steeled himself and stared toward the source of that strange pull, teeth clenched—then charged forward, ready to risk everything!
~~~
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