Chapter 387

Resurrection was a 7th-level necromancy spell, a standard form of divine magic, though bards could learn it as well.

The spell took an hour to cast and required a diamond worth several thousand as a material component, making it quite expensive.

But as long as the target had been dead for no more than a hundred years, had not died of old age, and had not been undead when they died, the spell could bring them back to life.

The spell was inferior to True Resurrection because it required the corpse.

That was also why Anser had immediately recovered his parents' remains.

For any cleric, there was a world of difference between a 9th-level divine spell and a 7th-level one. The expenditure and cost were on entirely different levels.

Anser was using Wish to duplicate Resurrection. This method cost him nothing and placed virtually no burden on his body, so he could use it freely.

Rings of magical radiance rippled outward from his body. Once again, he experienced that sensation of becoming one with the world.

Following that feeling, he conveyed his precise instruction through thought:

Resurrection.

He gently plucked Primordial Magic as though it were a string, drawing upon it to produce a series of mysterious changes in the magic.

Anser could sense that the spell had taken effect, but the process itself was beyond his control.

Nor could he use this method to secretly learn Resurrection.

'Spellcraft really is spellcraft. Every school of magic has its own characteristics.'

With that thought, he cast a second Wish on the other set of remains.

Then he stood off to the side and waited quietly.

A short while later, two strange fluctuations rippled through the area in succession. Magic gathered around them, and the environment abruptly changed.

'They're... back.'

Anser had Truesight. He clearly saw two phantom forms descend from the void and enter the two sets of remains.

This was the spell's first step: calling the souls of the dead back.

If a soul no longer existed, or if it was unwilling to return to life, the spell would fail and proceed no further.

'Will they still recognize their son? Probably...' He suddenly felt a little anxious and uneasy.

The two sets of remains began moving without any wind. Invisible force fields surrounded them and lifted them several centimeters off the ground.

Dirt rapidly peeled away from the remains and was expelled beyond the force fields. The bones shifted back into place on their own, then gradually repaired themselves and filled in what was missing.

Next came bone marrow, fascia, flesh and blood, internal organs, skin and hair...

The process was horrifying, yet filled with an indescribable vitality.

'How is this any different from creating a person? The remains are basically just there to establish the dead person's genetic sequence.' Anser was amazed.

At the same time, he took two robes from his dragonhide pouch and draped them over the force fields.

An hour passed.

The force fields vanished. The robes fell, covering the bodies of a man and a woman and leaving only their heads exposed.

The two looked bewildered, their vacant gazes sweeping across their surroundings before quickly settling on Anser.

Surprise and confusion filled their eyes. They seemed to recognize him, yet didn't dare believe it. Their lips moved, but they hesitated to speak.

He was their child, after all. No matter how much Anser had changed, they could still see traces of the son they remembered.

Anser took a deep breath. "Father, Mother, it's me. Anser."

As soon as he said those words, familiar memories surged to the surface. Much of the unfamiliarity and distance faded, and he recovered a trace of the feeling the original Anser had shared with his parents.

"Anser!"

The man rolled over and sat up. Paying no attention to the robe slipping off him, he crossed the few steps to Anser, looked him over, then pulled him tightly into his arms.

"I knew my son would definitely become a great wizard!"

He thumped Anser hard on the back, his eyes red as his loose gray-black hair shook with every movement.

Anser gave an awkward laugh. The original Anser's parents only knew how to bake bread. They knew nothing about the arcane arts, much less their son's aptitude.

And he wasn't a great wizard now. He was a great sorcerer.

His mother wrapped the robe around herself and walked over to Anser, looking him up and down. At last, she caught a trace of familiarity in his awkward expression.

"Mother." Anser was a little worried that she might notice something was wrong.

Although the original Anser had left home to study for five years, they had still lived in the same city, so there had been plenty of opportunities to see each other.

His father was carefree and probably wouldn't notice anything.

But his mother was extremely perceptive and knew the original Anser very well. She might notice something.

"My Anser, you've... changed so much. I hardly dared recognize you."

His mother took his hand. It felt cool and supple. She kept rubbing it, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't find the feeling she remembered.

"When the disaster struck, the mage tower nearly fell into the crater. At the critical moment, my draconic bloodline awakened. Later, I ran into Uncle Rand, and we escaped Baldur's Gate together."

"Our family has silver dragon blood—the silver-browed lineage. You knew about that, right?" Anser deliberately brought up the past.

His father looked at his mother with a triumphant grin, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing there stark naked and hardly presentable.

"See? I wasn't lying to you. Our family was once one of the ten great Illuskan families. We really do have draconic blood."

"I believe you, I believe you..." his mother murmured, smiling from ear to ear.

Anser secretly breathed a sigh of relief. As long as the story matched, that was enough.

As for those so-called Ten Great Families, they weren't worth taking too seriously. Their family had already been driven from their homeland; whatever glory they once possessed had surely long since vanished.

His parents' ages hadn't changed after their resurrection, but their bodies looked much younger than before.

Neither of them was even fifty yet. Years of hard work and underlying illnesses, however, had left them looking over sixty before they died.

The resurrection process had reconstructed their bodies, freeing them from disease, toxins, and old injuries and restoring them to the best physical condition possible for their current age.

The two had countless things they wanted to say and countless questions they wanted to ask, yet for the moment, neither knew where to begin.

Anser had changed enormously. It was impossible for there not to be some sense of unfamiliarity between them.

"I'll take you somewhere to rest and get something to eat first. Once you've slept, we can catch up properly." He picked up the fallen robe and draped it over his father.

"Mm-hmm..."

The two really were tired. Returning from the dead was a painful experience, and they would need at least four days of proper rest before they fully recovered.

Anser waved his hand and tossed the simple gravestones back into the graves, then cast Mold Earth to restore the ground before walking back to the Black Tower with his parents.

Along the way, he briefly told them what had happened after his escape, as well as his current identity and how much time had passed.

When they learned that more than three months had already gone by, they were utterly shocked.

For one thing, they were stunned that so much time had passed. For another, they couldn't believe their son had become a powerful spellcaster and the ruler of a federation in such a short time.

They had lived in Baldur's Gate and frequently dealt with professionals. Even if they knew nothing about the arcane arts, they still understood what it meant to reach the pinnacle of mortal power in just over three months!

Anser sighed inwardly. Even if he didn't tell them now, they would soon learn the truth themselves. There was no point in hiding it.

It really did sound absurd. They would need time to process it.

They were different from Bratt and the others. Having died and returned to life, they had missed an enormous amount of information, making the revelation hit them even harder.

"It was all thanks to the Dragon God's favor," he quietly added.

Bloodline and divine favor together should make everything seem a little more plausible.

Back at the Black Tower, he summoned Bratt, made some brief introductions, then arranged for his parents to change clothes, eat, and rest.

Anser decided to use being busy as an excuse to minimize the time he spent with them, lest they notice any cracks in his story.

After all, when it came down to it, he wasn't the original Anser.

While casting Wish earlier, another thought had occurred to him: did the original Anser's soul still exist? And what would happen if someone tried to resurrect the original Anser?

That question was destined to remain unanswered, because there was no way he would ever attempt it.

And he'd better not die either!

He genuinely worried that if someone tried to resurrect him while calling out Anser's name, the person who stood back up might not be him.

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