The merciless words echoed in their minds, plunging everyone into silence.
"Elimination." The term itself seemed innocuous, but even in Toril—a Prime Material Plane—it was an utterly brutal feudal world. Those marked for elimination, whether in schools or society, would receive only the bare minimum resources. Even basic necessities like food and clothing became luxuries.
Compared to the newcomers, Yoda was even more devastated. This was a high-difficulty mission for seven people, and the location made it all the more chilling.
What kind of place was Menzoberranzan? The territory of the drow elves—those dark-skinned, black-hearted, pointy-eared witches. They didn't bother with reason or law when dealing with other races. For outsiders, encounters with them usually ended in one of two ways:
Death or enslavement.
Trying to negotiate with these evil creatures as equals? No amount of silver-tongued persuasion would work. Only raw strength could earn their respect—enough to make them even consider conversation.
But his party had just been wiped out. Judging by the awakening times, most here were newcomers weaker than him. With so many greenhorns, why was the mission this difficult? His first trial had only been battling orcs and zombies in a mine.
Puzzled, Yoda glanced at the one person he couldn't figure out—the human who could manipulate fire. Stronger than him, though it wasn't clear if he was a mage or a warlock.
Could this man be the key to clearing the mission?
With that thought, Yoda spoke up: "To improve our teamwork and efficiency, everyone should share what they did before coming here. That way, we can utilize our strengths properly."
"Of course, if you'd rather not reveal your real name, a simple alias will do. Makes communication easier."
The young man was the first to respond. "The Master makes a fair point. My mentor always said unity is strength, so I'll start."
"I'm a 6th-level paladin who follows Tyr, the God of Justice. Call me Tegal. I specialize in sword-and-shield combat, can heal allies once a day, unleash two Smite Evils, and neutralize poison once. Beyond that, nothing noteworthy."
Next was the alluring woman who had scolded Anthony earlier. Pressing her arms together, her generous curves made the nearby men dizzy. In a honeyed voice, she said, "I'm an apprentice bard, unaffiliated. Mostly wandered from city to city. If aliases are fine, you can call me Big Cat. Hope you'll look out for me during this adventure."
Anthony noticed she deliberately omitted her faith. This woman was likely far more complicated than she let on.
Beside her, Tegal thumped his chest loudly. "Don't worry, ma'am! I'll protect you with my life!"
The third was an obese man in an ornate tunic, eager to impress the beauty. "Name's Zad. 7th-level warrior, faithful to the God of the Sea. But that's not important—what matters is I'm the grandson of Deepwater's Sea God Fleet general. If you ever visit Deepwater, I'll treat you to the finest Sword Coast cuisine!"
A noble? Zad's declaration stunned the group. The woman subtly shifted from the paladin's side to Zad's, pressing her ample chest against his arm while peppering him with questions about Deepwater's delights. The fat man grinned like a fool, utterly enchanted.
After the commotion died down, the fourth—a timid boy in a cloak—spoke meekly: "I'm a 5th-level rogue. Used to scrape by with a small adventure group. Decent at trap detection and lockpicking, but not great in direct fights. Just call me Dagger."
Finally, the last of the unaffiliated—a petite girl in black robes—kicked a stone away with her polished leather boot and said impatiently in a bright voice, "I'm Luo Luo. A witch—some call us sorceresses. My family's from Hither, and I've been training with my mother. 6th-level, best at Conjuration and Abjuration magic."
Once she finished, all eyes turned to Anthony. Whether out of hope or curiosity, they waited—this aloof, arrogant man had to be someone formidable.
This Adventure Group barely qualified as mid-tier, and now they had to navigate the pitch-black tunnels to Menzoberranzan. The last thing they needed was another deadweight with zero combat strength dragging them down.
Anthony didn't disappoint—or rather, his words outright stunned everyone:
"I'm Anthony. An archmage proficient in Evocation and Transmutation. I spend most of my time conducting spell research in my tower. As for other details… I have no interest in sharing them with you."
"An… archmage?!" Several people took a step back.
Mages rarely appeared in public, preferring to hole up in their towers to tinker with esoteric projects. The terrifying legends about them outnumbered even those of devils.
Yoda's teeth chattered. An archmage—a high-tier spellcaster—was a title reserved for those between the 13th and 19th levels. Even if this Anthony was only level 13, he'd still be an unimaginably powerful ally… or threat. A man who could unleash 7th-circle spells.
And an archmage who specialized in Evocation? He could wipe out this entire group with a single spell.
The young woman immediately detached herself from the fat noble, pouting with exaggerated fragility—a look designed to stir men's protective instincts.
Anthony didn't spare her a glance.
She might be alluring, but he had zero interest in a promiscuous harlot. Right now, he was far more curious about the legendary drow.
How dark are they? How beautiful? How… durable?
The group's fear didn't faze him. He sensed most were hiding something, but raw power was hard to conceal. None of them triggered his danger instincts.
Since they posed no threat, he might as well boast outright. In this Trial Grounds, strength dictated everything. Better to seize leadership now than endure pointless squabbling later.
Only Tegal stepped forward, bowing stiffly before bluntly asking:
"Honored Mage, might you share your level and specialties? I mean no disrespect, but in combat, knowing your capabilities prevents… accidental mishaps."
Anthony smirked. "Questioning me? A mere 6th-level paladin daring to probe an archmage's secrets? Did your mentor never warn you how dangerous that is?"
But Tegal stood his ground. A paladin's stubborn honesty compelled him: "We're a team. Transparency ensures coordination when crisis strikes."
"Mage secrets aren't for prying eyes. Still… since you're so curious—" Anthony's palm ignited a 20-centimeter fireball, swelling rapidly. "—I hear paladins have decent magic resistance. Care to test that theory?"
This talkative paladin needed silencing. More importantly, Anthony wanted to gauge how many "heroes" this team really had.
One villain like him was plenty. He'd rather not waste energy on scheming. If they were all straightforward fools like this paladin? Perfect. They'd make excellent cannon fodder.
Tegal gaped at the fireball. He'd never met a mage, but he recognized the spell—Fireball, a devastating 3rd-level Evocation staple. And he was about to experience it firsthand.
The fireball streaked faster than he could raise his shield.
Some gasped. Others watched impassively—even the supposedly compassionate gnoll monk stood rooted. Only the witch began casting, but her sluggish gestures were laughable compared to Anthony's draconic-quick incantations.
Pathetic. Anthony mentally dismissed the entire team.
As Tegal braced for impact, Anthony tilted his head slightly. The meter-wide fireball veered upward, arcing over the paladin's head before detonating against a stalactite two seconds later.
The blast showered dust and cold sweat onto Tegal's scalp.
"A 4th-level controlled Fireball. Harmless to allies. Understood?" Anthony's arrogant tone snapped them from their daze. Nods followed. No more questions.
Yoda, however, beamed. "Master Anthony must be the counterbalance for this mission's difficulty! As I said—mission first. I propose he leads, with me advising."
An archmage who treated 4th-level slots as expendable? Suddenly, survival seemed plausible.
The young woman's eyes glittered. "Such power… how thrilling," she murmured.
Even Zad flattered smoothly: "Terrifying prowess, Master! Should you visit Deepwater, I'll arrange a meeting with the Blackstaff herself—to discuss magic's origins… and the Seven Sisters."
A belated Resist Fire spell flickered over Tegal. The little witch scoffed, then asked pointedly:
"Master Mage, your secrets are yours. But might you share which deity you serve?"
In Faerûn, faith revealed much.
Anthony answered effortlessly: "I revere the Overdeity Ao. Magic alone holds my interest."
Ao—a name few recognized. Most Torilians didn't believe such a being existed. The witch's eyes narrowed. A magic-obsessed archmage who didn't worship Mystra or Oghma?
Her instincts screamed liar.
But angering an archmage here? Suicide. She'd seen her mother's tantrums enough to know better.
Tegal wiped his brow. "Hah! Seems we'll get along splendidly. Time's wasting—shall we march?"
Anthony scanned the group. "Dagger, take point with a torch—check for traps. Zad, guard him. Yoda, support. The spellcasters—myself and the ladies—stay center. Paladin, rear guard with another torch. Any objections?"
Silence. The formation was flawless.
"Move out."
As the group advanced, Tegal lingered at the back. In the darkness, unnoticed, he cast Detect Evil.
The result near stopped his heart.
Four crimson auras flared among the six ahead.
Before he could identify the sources, a scream ripped through the tunnels—followed by chaotic skirmishing.
"Be careful, there are lots of bugs, ugh... and big spiders!"