As soon as my palm touched the Exit, I instantly received all the records of my earned achievements. And as in the case of the Coal dungeon, they were inscribed on my Core with Sapphire "ink."

Ender believed that I needed to Reset twenty dungeons alone to achieve the Elevation to Bronze. But after making corrections considering my bonuses, I counted a dozen. However, neither the sheriff of Unudo nor I had taken into account victories over bosses in these calculations. Such an achievement as killing a boss, in terms of its "weight," is slightly more substantial than the record for a dungeon Reset. Based on new adjustments, I would need to clear fewer than ten dungeons to reach Bronze. And I had already Reset two of them. For the first time in a long while, I harbored hope that I could genuinely accomplish this questers' task! With a relieved exhale, I took a step forward.

The sun, as if embracing Dairin, was setting, but it was still light on the stony platform in front of the dungeon. As soon as my foot touched the rock outside, almost a hundred pairs of eyes converged on me. I raise my hand with the Heart of the Slime King clutched in my palm, and the gazes of the locals change; much can be read in them, but certainly, not relief that I survived. This time, no one had bet on my victory; not a single person in the village dared risk their money on what seemed to them such a hopeless wager. Not even the village elder.

In the gazes of the locals, a strange combination of primal malice and genuine admiration churned. But there was decidedly more malice in this strange cocktail, perhaps twice as much. However, despite all the rage that overwhelmed the locals, none of them reached for a weapon or shouted a single threat or insult. The reason for this behavior was quickly found.

At the very edge of the platform stood five sailors from the "Defector," each of them a Bronze, and along with them was the ship's boatswain, a warrior of Wootz. When I dispatched the junior Sun with a request to send observers, I didn't expect such a "solid" delegation. But in this situation, it's for the best. Leaving the dungeon, I hoped that I would collect my winnings and, after spending the night with the young widow Tuli, return to the "Defector" by dawn. However, judging by the moods in the air, it's best for me to refrain from such, albeit a very pleasant, pastime.

With my permission, one of the sailors took a slime skin from me and transferred sulf crystals to his backpack. While he was doing this, the senior Sun approached me and handed over a large pouch full of coins.

I set foot on Quad Island with thirty-three silvers, one of which I used to pay for the guide's services. Going through the Coal dungeon tripled this amount through stakes, and I had ninety-six silver coins, plus another thirty for selling the scrap metal I had obtained from goblins to the blacksmith. Now this number increased threefold again! Considering the exchange rate of silver to gold in Ain, fifty to one, I now had seven full-weight gold coins and twenty-eight silver ones. Poor locals; for them, who mainly live on fishing, losing this much is a real ruin. However, they are to blame themselves. Gambling is a vice, and today they fully realized this fact!

I tried to give ten silvers to the blacksmith for intermediary services, but he didn't take the money. Noticing a thin chain around one of the sailors' necks, I immediately bought it for five coins and, before leaving the platform, gifted it to Tuli. Unlike the blacksmith, the widow did not refuse the present, accepting the chain with gratitude and bidding me farewell with a passionate kiss.

From the platform in front of the Slime Dungeon Gate to the shore, I walked in a tight ring of guards. The sailors and boatswain were clearly determined to deliver me to the "Defector" safely. The squad accomplished this quite successfully.

As soon as I climbed up the gangway, I was greeted by the already familiar cabin boy, who invited me to follow him. Maestro Larindel was one of those who, even in the limited space of the ship, did not deny himself anything. In addition to his personal quarters, where we talked the first time, he also had a study! The cabin boy led me to it.

The room was enormous by the standards of the "Defector," spanning at least thirty square meters. At its center was a massive table, as if placed here for business meetings. On one solid wall, from floor to ceiling, was a magnificent, highly detailed map of the entire Bastarga archipelago and the southeastern coastline of the mainland.

As soon as I crossed the threshold, the elf immediately rose from his chair and headed toward me. With each step, he clapped his hands and shouted:

"Bravo! Impressive! Outstanding!"

When he reached me, he stopped and looked me up and down, clicked his tongue, and wrinkled his nose.

"Raven, I invite you to dinner. But in half an hour! Could you go to the lower deck now? They will prepare a barrel for you to wash up. And after you have cleaned and changed, the dinner will be ready."

Judging by the set table, dinner was already ready, but I did stink quite a bit, and not just from sweat, so I could easily understand the Sidhe half-blood's reaction.

"Of course!" I nodded, taking a step back. "And, if it's not too much trouble for you, could you evaluate the worth of the items I have gathered," I pulled out the Slime King's Cube from behind my robes and placed it on the table, "including this? As an experienced alchemist, this shouldn't be difficult for you."

"Naturally." The elf nodded, barely resisting the urge to cover his nose with his hand. "Now, go wash, go, go!" He literally pushed me out of his cabin, and not with his hands but with Wind magic.

As I was going downstairs and undressing, the crew had indeed prepared a huge barrel of hot water for me and even supplied fragrant soap. It's good to be an elemental mage of precious ranks; hot water is always with you!

Bearing in mind the excessive fickleness of the elves and how much they hate waiting, I washed up pretty quickly. Although, if I had my way, I would have spent at least a couple of hours in that barrel with relaxing hot water. But making Maestro Larindel wait was not the best idea. So, with deep regret, I got out of the water as soon as I was clean.

My personal belongings had already been sent for washing, but a replacement awaited me. A complete set of silk underwear. According to the latest fashion in Deytran, it was accompanied by wide, beige-colored linen hakama pants, loose-fitting and familiar to me from Earth, where they are worn in Japan under kimonos, and a shirt, similarly of linen, with violet embroidery along the seams. On top of this noble splendor was a tight-fitting doublet made of thick fabric with velvet inserts.

Having dressed, I searched for a long time for where the shoes were but couldn't find them, so I called the cabin boy. Upon hearing my request, the lad turned red as a lobster and began to stammer. Then he fell to his knees, begging me not to mention his forgetfulness to the captain. I did my best to calm him down and was handed half-boots made of soft leather, which outwardly resembled Cossack footwear but without a clearly defined heel. Their leather remarkably resembled crocodile skin but was still different.

Everything, the underwear, clothes, and shoes, fit perfectly. I have to admit that when it comes to precise judgment, no one can match the elves under Ain's two moons. I looked at myself in the silver mirror obligingly held by the cabin boy and was pleased. My appearance resembled that of at least a count or a somewhat pinched duke. This seemingly simple set of clothes cost no less than Ender's personal chainmail! And, as far as I had learned from Larindel, if I later offered to return these clothes, he would be seriously offended.

When I entered the captain's cabin in such attire, he rose from his seat, clasped his hands over his chest in a gesture of delight, and exclaimed with a gasp:

"Perfect! Your magnificently developed warrior's body..." he began. "Is perfectly accentuated by this form-fitting suit!"

"Doublet?" I shrugged nonchalantly and added, as if it were something insignificant, "Yes, this kind of thing suits me."

Larindel's eyes sparkled at my response. This style of attire became fashionable in Pentapolis just a year ago. Most of the inhabitants, let alone the nobles of Ain, didn't even know the word "doublet." This confirmed the half-blood's suspicions about my very high origins. I'm sure he chose this outfit specifically to gauge my reaction. Now, the elf is pleased that he has "outsmarted" me. Let him be happy; it's even better for me this way.

Having seated me at the table, Larindel personally filled my glass with wine. He then returned to his chair and, raising his goblet, solemnly declared:

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"To you, hero Raven! To your success!"

"I will gladly drink to that!"

While I was eating, the elf was holding back his curiosity. This wasn't easy for the half-blood; he was practically shaking, but he maintained the politeness of a host. He engaged me in courteous conversation, nothing more. However, as soon as I pushed my plate away and the cabin boy cleared the table, leaving only wine, the demeanor of the captain of the "Defector" dramatically changed.

"Tell me!! Come on! Don't keep me waiting any longer! I want to know! I want to know everything!!!" Larindel exclaimed.

My Story was the fee for "renting" the "Defector," so I couldn't turn down its captain. I started in a dry manner, planning to lay out only the facts, but the elf interrupted me:

"I understand that you received a splendid education as a strategist! Your speech makes it abundantly clear. Only facts, only a dry recounting. But! I beg you, be a poet with me! Your emotions, the feelings you experienced, are as important to me as the facts."

Ah, how could I forget; after all, my listener was an elf. I had to change my storytelling style, for which I immediately received a grateful look from Larindel...

"You describe your night with widow Tuli in such a way that I even started doubting whether my taste misleads me. I am not a fan of large female... charms!" He made a characteristic gesture at his chest. "But if 'they' are indeed so soft and delightful, then... Maybe I need to reconsider my tastes. Your tale is literally inspiring me to do that!"

Tsk, tsk, tsk... What can you expect? He is a half-blood of the Sidhe, and that says it all. Besides, the widow did not have such a huge bust, a full D-cup at most. Which, with her slim waist, looked simply incomparable and completely overshadowed the slight asymmetry of her face. Although, perhaps in my story, I slightly exaggerated.

As I got to the part where I bet on killing the boss in the Sulfuric Dungeon, the elf climbed into the chair with his legs up and listened while biting his impeccably manicured nails.

"How??! I still don't understand how you managed it! My analysis of your abilities, based both on my own observations and Sheriff Ender's accounts, showed that what you planned was utterly impossible!" He exclaimed. "But don't lose the thread! Continue! I'm on the edge of my seat waiting to find out how you tricked fate!"

Damn! There's no way I can leave out my prayer to Seguna. He'll see through that. But mentioning the Shadow in front of an elf is also not the best idea. Pondering this, I briefly pause in my story. Pretending my throat is dry, I take a long time to fill my wine glass and then drink it very slowly. I am faced with quite a dilemma. Before I can make a decision, the elf suddenly leaps out of his chair and starts clapping his hands.

"I've got it! I've figured it out!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "Mr. Raven, continue the story without fear."

As if to confirm his words, he tears one of the glass orbs from his necklace and rolls it across the table to me. I catch the sphere and bring it up to my eyes. "Shadow Grenade" – alchemically sealed smoke based on Shadow magic. It is used to dull all five senses of an adversary. As it turns out, Larindel is very tolerant of dark arts compared to his kin.

"You are correct," I nod and roll the orb back to him.

"Correct?! Hooray! Tell me, tell me!! Did I guess right? Is there a true Shadow altar on Quad, and did you ask for the 'Kiss of Seguna' there?! Yes?! Is that it?! Did I guess right?!"

"Nothing can hide from your discernment, Maestro Larindel," I say with relief.

"YEESSS!!" He yelled as if he had just won the jackpot of the biggest lottery, making the portholes shake, then he sat back in his chair and became still. "I apologize! It was rude to interrupt such an intriguing tale! Please, I beg you, continue!"

After this outburst, he listened without interrupting, completely motionless until I got to the part where I exited the Sulfuric Dungeon and started describing the reaction of the locals. That's when he finally nibbled off the remnants of his nails. When I fell silent, there was complete silence over the table for about ten minutes; it seemed like the elf was digesting my story.

"That... That was delightful!" The half-blood finally uttered, glanced at his fingers, blushed to the roots of his hair, and hid his hands behind his back. "Mr. Raven, you are an astonishing storyteller. It has been a long, very long time since I've heard a story told so beautifully and coherently. If the court troubadour of Kadias, who won last year's bard tournament in Pentapolis, were listening to your story now, he would undoubtedly have handed over his prize to you!"

"Maestro Larindel!" I say reproachfully. "There is such a thing as excessive flattery."

"Flattery?!" He exploded in righteous indignation. "It's the absolute truth! I can swear on it with the shaft of your spear!"

An elf's oath on the Tree of Tal? Wow! He's serious.

"There's no need!" I wave it off immediately.

"Mr. Raven, abandon this Spiral of Elevation!" The half-blood, waving his hands, tried to convince me. "Your calling is to fill hearts with emotions! You are a true STORYTELLER!" He pronounced the last word as if it was entirely made up of capital letters.

"No," I respond with a slight smile but firmly.

"What a pity! Truly! You're burying your genuine Talent in these dungeons! Take it from a true connoisseur! In over a hundred years of living, I have only once heard a story told no worse than yours!"

"And," I shake my head, "still. No."

I don't understand - why did he get so wound up? I don't have the talent of a Bard. Not a single Star in it; instead, there is just a blank space, emptiness, a dash... Which is strange, come to think of it. Because I've always been able to at least tell jokes. In the last Cycle, this question didn't interest "me" at all. But now, after the elf's words, I'm pondering. Zero talent here meant complete inarticulateness when you express yourself no better than a stool cut from an oak. But I played guitar quite well and sang, not like on stage, but the girls liked it. So why do I have a blank space in Bard Talents? This shouldn't be the case. But it is. What's more, to impress such a discerning listener as an elf, you need at least four full Stars in the Performer talent instead of my blank. This is all strange. I'll have to figure it out. Later, when I have time. Definitely.

"You must be tired, Mr. Raven," the half-blood suddenly bustled. "So many adventures in two days, and here I am keeping you from resting!"

"Thank you for your concern, Maestro Larindel. But before I go to sleep, I would like to set a new route for the Defector," I replied.

"Oh! Commendable foresight!" The elf nodded and gestured for me to approach the gigantic map. "Please."

"Are we here?" I clarified, pointing to a spot on the map.

"Correct." My ability to read maps was another weight on the scales of his opinion about my noble origins.

"Could you mark the islands where the Iron dungeons are located?" I asked the captain.

"Easily." With a wave of his hand, the images of some islands changed color. "Shall I add dungeon Reset timers?" The elf clarified.

Wow! Does he keep track of dungeon Resets? Although... there's nothing unusual about that. I'm sure all merchants maintain similar records if they want to be the first to buy valuable resources.

"I would be grateful." I bowed slightly.

Immediately above the marked islands, a timer appeared. Convenient, damn it! It's immediately clear where it's worth hurrying to and where it's too early, despite that island being closer. Choosing two islands, I asked Larindel to tell me about one and then the other.

The first was more promising. There were two Iron-rank dungeons there, but they both yielded valuable resources, and the locals wouldn't just hand them over to me. The second had only one dungeon of the third circle, and it was a "throwaway." Some moss was mined there, which few people needed.

The "Defector" could easily make it to either of these islands before the dungeon Reset. But only to one of them. A visit to the other would then be delayed by at least a week. After thinking for a bit, I chose the second option.

"Veithiu Island," Larindel nods. "We'll be there by morning."

"Excellent!" I openly express my admiration for the ship.

Then my gaze was caught by a small island circled on the map with a black ring.

"Can you tell me why this island is marked so strangely?" I asked.

"Oh!" The elf perked up immediately. "That is the Plague Island of Gnur, and it has a truly epic and tragic story associated with it. I would be delighted to tell you!"

Larindel took a sip of wine from his glass, wetting his throat. Oh no! I don't want to listen to elf stories; they usually drag on for hours or even days! Hastily, before he starts speaking, I ask a new question:

"Are there dungeons on this Plague Island?"

"Yes," the half-blood was thrown off. "A Desecrated Bronze-rank dungeon. It's connected to the story I wanted to..."

Here I yawned.

"Sorry, I'm tired; I need to get some sleep!" Naturally, I yawned deliberately to interrupt the captain.

"Oh! Where are my manners? Of course, your cabin is ready!"

"But before I go to rest, I would like to discuss a certain down-to-earth question." Theatrically rubbing my eyes, I pretend to suppress a new yawn with a gigantic effort of will, "Actually, two questions, one of which is very awkward."

"I'm listening. Start with the simple one." The half-blood smiles.

"My loot, sulf crystals, and the Cube of the Slime King - they are alchemical reagents. Are you interested in buying them?"

"Yes, I am!" The elf nods immediately. "Five gold for everything!"

"Twelve, no less!"

"You won't be able to sell them for more here!" The half-blood retorts expressively. "Six!"

"And you won't be able to buy the Cube anywhere else in the archipelago! Eleven!"

"I have a stock of ink!" The elf smiles. "And only in gratitude for your tale... Seven."

"Agreed." I have nothing to counter with, and, truth to be told, no one will offer more, even in the shops of Pentapolis.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Raven." Larindel smiles. "Now, go ahead and ask your awkward question."

"Did I imagine it, or were you surprised when you were listening to my story?" I tilt my head in a questioning gesture.

"Oh!" The elf blushed. "Forgive me. I forgot my own word! But I must point out that this forgetfulness was caused solely by your narration!"

"I wasn't blaming you," I said. The main thing is not to smile, not to burst into laughter, just endure and keep quiet!!!

The half-blood quickly approaches his table and opens a drawer in it.

"You have, Mr. Raven, if my memory serves me right, a second weapon, a bronze dagger?"

"Baselard, that's right."

"Catch." He tosses me a worn, clearly battle-used scabbard.

In this scabbard is a straight, double-edged dagger with an elaborate guard; it's only slightly shorter than my weapon. I unsheath the blade just a little, barely an inch. The distinctive, easily recognizable pattern. Wootz!

"My payment for the surprise!" Larindel smiles contentedly, noticing the sparkle in my eyes.

"Your generosity…"

"Oh, come on, Mr. Raven." He waves his hands. "And I dare not keep you from your well-deserved rest any longer!"

Having formally bowed, I left the captain's cabin of the "Defector."