[You cast Bigby's Hand to attack the Minotaur. The Minotaur is hit, taking 62 (critical) force damage and 17 bludgeoning damage. Fatal strike. Target killed. You gain 695 combat experience.]
A string of combat notifications flashed through his mind. The damage was even higher than expected—those minotaurs that didn't die were at least severely wounded.
This kind of descending palm strike was no different from a joint attack with the earth itself.
The battlefield fell silent. The enemy offensive ca to an abrupt halt.
Anser hovered above the city wall and asked, "Who are they?"
"They're pirates from the Sea of Fallen Stars," Lin Qiancheng said with certainty. "A few hundred miles west of here are the pirate isles. Only that place has this many minotaurs."
Anser nodded silently, his gaze falling on the insignias on their arms, eyes flickering.
These pirates might be enemies of the Star Demons—but they certainly weren't his friends.
With that thought, he didn't hesitate. He clenched his right hand into a fist and struck forward.
On the battlefield, the massive magical hand mirrored his movent. The giant fist slamd into the crowd, charging forward over twenty ters. Everything in its path was sent flying, carving out a several-ter-wide corridor as bones cracked and screams filled the air.
A gale swept through. One warrior barely steadied himself, peeking out from behind his shield—only to find the giant fist stopped just one ter in front of him.
He didn't even have ti to feel relieved before a finger thicker than his waist flicked out with a bang, sending him flying.
Pain exploded through his body. His vision blurred. Midair, he had already lost consciousness.
The giant hand opened, swept low across the ground, and grabbed three people into its palm. With a violent swing, it hurled them back into the crowd, knocking down a swath of bodies, wails erupting everywhere.
[Target killed. You gain 55 combat experience…]
The chain of deaths did not make Anser stop. He raised his arm, opened his palm, and slamd downward.
At the sa ti, the giant hand lifted again and began hamring the ground repeatedly—one strike after another—chasing fleeing enemies and smashing them like a ga of whack-a-mole.
Bigby's Hand was slightly faster than Fly, and its attack range was vast. Even the faster-running minotaurs found it difficult to dodge continuously.
One slap ant severe injury. Two ant death.
On the city wall, Salian and the others lowered their bows, staring blankly at the spectacle of the giant hand and the air elental.
You had to admit—it was quite satisfying to watch.
At the sa ti, everyone was deeply shaken by the power of magic. A sense of helplessness rose in their hearts—how could a warrior possibly deal with such a spell?
Lin Qiancheng felt this most strongly, because Bigby's Hand had once been his signature spell.
It was a favorite among many spellcasters. Its versatility ant that mastering just this one spell could handle a wide range of situations, freeing up ti and energy to learn other valuable spells.
But his version had clearly been a size smaller, and slower as well. Only by upcasting could he match sothing like this.
"Moaaah—!"
Amid the chaos, a minotaur let out a thunderous roar and hurled two throwing axes. They struck the giant hand in succession, embedding deep within it.
The hand flickered twice—then silently collapsed.
During the battle, Bigby's Hand had not been unscathed. After being heavily damaged by the axes, it could no longer maintain its structure.
[Bigby's Hand is struck by the pirate captain's throwing axes. Spell structure compromised. Spell terminated.]
Anser's gaze shifted, locking ntally onto a towering minotaur clad in plate armor below.
The minotaur was also looking at him. Its yellow eyes held neither rage nor savagery—only calm.
"Moaaah—!"
It roared again. The minotaurs and pirates imdiately turned and fled, abandoning even their heavily wounded.
Anser did not pursue. He simply watched the towering minotaur in silence.
The air elental quickly understood what was happening and hovered at his side like a bodyguard.
Once the pirates had fled several hundred ters away, the dice finally displayed the target information:
[Horn of Imuk Pirate Crew Captain, Minotaur, Level 17 Barbarian (Zealot)]
'A peak-tier professional!' Anser narrowed his eyes and did not act rashly, because this one looked a bit beyond what he could handle.
A Zealot could fly, regenerate, and had a whole set of resistances. Backed by a deity, they were absolutely among the best of barbarians.
Moreover, minotaurs were already naturally gifted. Once they took on a class, their combat power surpassed that of humans. Their weakness was usually a lack of intelligence—but judging from this minotaur's eyes, he might have a bit of brains.
Just now, the minotaur had watched his subordinates die without making a move. He was probably unable to gauge Anser's strength—rational and cold-blooded.
The two stared at each other from afar, the atmosphere heavy. Neither made a move.
Anser's mind was taut, gripping the Rod of Security tightly, ready at any mont to teleport Bratt and the others back to Holrewen.
His flying speed and endurance far exceeded that of a Zealot. He might not win in a fight—but escaping wouldn't be a problem.
When the pirates disappeared beyond the horizon, the minotaur said nothing and simply turned to leave.
Anser ascended higher, his gaze following the figure all the way to a remote dock at the edge of White Stone Island, where he boarded a ship and departed.
'Horn of Imuk…' His eyes grew distant.
On the battlefield, the air elental had already helped Salian and the others finish cleaning up. All resistance had been eliminated. A few severely wounded unlucky ones were given basic treatnt before being interrogated.
They cooperated readily, spilling everything they knew.
When Anser returned, Salian imdiately reported the situation to him.
These people were indeed a pirate crew from the Sea of Fallen Stars, called the Horn of Imuk—one of the three major pirate crews. Their leader was that minotaur, who called himself Grozdan, imnsely powerful.
The Horn of Imuk had twenty to thirty ships. This ti, only three had co—all elites. Their target was this castle, though the reason remained unknown.
"Imuk was a legendary pirate king of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He once ruled the entire pirate isles. After his death, the islands fragnted, and many pirate crews borrowed his na…" Lin Qiancheng explained.
"No wonder they're called the Horn of Imuk." Anser let out a light chuckle.
Lin Qiancheng laughed. "Imuk didn't have horns."
"Will they co back?" Salian asked, worry evident in his eyes.
"Maybe. Maybe not." Anser couldn't be certain either.
After witnessing his spellcasting ability, the minotaur was clearly wary. And outsiders didn't know his relationship with the Star Demons—after an unexpected situation, a temporary retreat was a wise choice.
"For now, don't worry about the pirates. We've got plenty to deal with."
He wanted to return to Durlag's Tower as soon as possible. Before that, he had to arrange everything here.
Salian continued leading the thirty-odd local civilians in the castle to clean up the battlefield, disposing of the corpses to prevent disease.
Anser gathered Lin Qiancheng, Moen, and the others, signing magical contracts with them, including confidentiality clauses on spell knowledge—without his permission, they were not allowed to sell or teach it to others.
He copied two spells for each of them to study first—no point biting off more than they could chew.
Magic-based spellcasting was difficult. Not every mage could master it. If it proved too strenuous, it might be better to change paths early—becoming a governor on White Stone Island wasn't a bad option either.
After that, he led Lin Qiancheng, Moen, and the others to search the entire castle. The air elental acted as a scout, while Lin Qiancheng's students served as scribes, recording all valuables.
This was the main base of the star pirates, and its stockpiles were extrely abundant—over a thousand tons of grain, along with cheese, alcohol, tools, and more.
There was also a hidden vault underground, containing several hundred sets of standard weapons and armor, as well as gold, potions, and ordinary magic items—worth at least tens of thousands of gold coins.
Anser was quite satisfied. This stronghold was far more developed than Holrewen—it couldn't be allowed to fall into pirate hands so easily.
If the people of Amn couldn't withstand the invasion from Abeir, retreating to White Stone Island would also be a viable option.
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