Leaving Kyal Gorge far behind, I finally allowed myself to relax slightly, easing the tension of my Auras. For the entire fifteen hundred steps it took to traverse the point where the trade route narrowed due to the encroaching cliffs, I was in a state of complete combat readiness. Firstly, it was an ideal spot for ambushes, precisely the kind that various gangs favored for easier raids on caravans. Secondly, the moment I entered the gorge, I felt a strange, malevolent gaze upon me. No matter how hard I tried to pinpoint who was watching me, I couldn't determine its source. Still, I had no doubts about the presence of this observer, and even the shadows around me behaved oddly. They seemed to flee from me, perhaps hinting that I, too, shouldn't linger in this place. With every step through the gorge, I felt that foreign gaze, as if some dangerous, lurking predator was observing from the rock shadows. I braced for an attack every second, but it never came. It seems the predator, whether a sentient being, a mere beast, or a monster, deemed me an inconvenient target and ultimately refrained from attacking. This was fortunate for me, as I was far from confident about facing a serious adversary now. After all, without a proper spear, at least one with a steel tip, I felt somewhat insecure at this stage of my development.
Two days had passed since my encounter with Reygyana and Scully, and I had been walking non-stop, only taking one six-hour break. I regularly replenished my strength with stamina potions. Thankfully, I had bought five of them in Tries, and only one was stolen by the Australian girl. These parts of Ain weren't too familiar to me. My previous adventures took me west of Pentapolis. However, thanks to numerous conversations with other earthlings during the Last Cycle, I had a rough idea of my location, even without any hints from Rey. Speaking of the enigmatic girl, she truly didn't deceive me regarding the direction. In a few kilometers, I would approach Lake Ilomen, and on its western shore lies the town of Katiyer.
It's a shame that in this Cycle the questers shuffled earthlings differently and didn't place them in the same locations as in the Last Cycle. Otherwise, I would soon meet Arien. From what I remember, she lingered in these places until she ascended to Wootz. Not only was she one of the first to reach the last step of the Metal Coil of the Spiral, but she also founded her own guild, mainly recruiting earthlings. She was the first to take such a step. Being an incredibly talented mage here and an exceptionally brilliant scientist on Earth, she managed to systematize her understanding of Ain's magic in just a month. An understanding that was very different from what the local schools, sects, and guilds preached. Those earthlings who followed her ended up learning spells much faster than those who were taught even by recognized local masters. However, Arien was not flawless. For instance, she only recruited mages into her guild, ignoring warriors who wanted to join. This decision by the future goddess of Spontaneous Magic negatively affected her guild's fate and created many challenges, including conquering the Inverted Towers. Knowing Arien, I'm sure that wherever fate takes her in this Cycle, she'll still form her own guild because that's just her nature. She loves to command and feels more confident surrounded by people loyal specifically to her. Even better if those people are her students. On Earth, being a sought-after scientist, she found time to teach and even led a chemistry enthusiasts club at a university.
Reflecting on this, I realized that I probably, for the first time, think about Arien calmly, almost without emotion. I'm not sure whether this fact pleases or upsets me. After all, my relationship with this girl was a beacon of light amidst the surrounding chaos for the "past me." Having walked another kilometer, I concluded that this tranquility when thinking about Arien is more of a blessing than a curse. In this Cycle, I won't be able to be with her, maybe only very briefly. My strategy doesn't account for falling in love.
Step by step, walking along the empty road at this dawn hour, my thoughts kept returning to my meeting with Scully. I wished I could banish them from my mind, but they lodged there like burning needles. After everything that happened in Tries, I now understood, thankfully to all the gods, where this strange obsession came from. My flawed and somewhat vengeful nature demanded retribution. Even if my revenge wouldn't end with the death of the Australian woman, I simply couldn't let go of what had happened. And even the Light of my Affinity couldn't rid me of this desire. However, during the day-and-a-half journey, I'd mulled over the situation numerous times and drawn some conclusions.
First: Scully is most likely a Shard of Artemis or another hunting deity. I even understand why she ventured into the demon camp in the Last cycle. She wanted to hunt the Prince. Like other Shards, her nature pulls her towards her soul's purpose. Katashi loves the forge. Nate adores fights. Dice can't imagine life without a drink. Arien is in love with Elemental magic. Scully, on the other hand, is driven by her exaggerated hunter instinct. She always needs a hunting target. Probably, this manifested even on Earth, where she might have been either a police officer or a soldier. I'd guess she was a sniper for some Australian counter-terrorist unit.
Second: As an opponent, if Scully truly is the future goddess of hunting, she's more troublesome for me than even Nate. Recalling images of Artemis and similar deities, all the statues and frescoes I've seen of her, she likely has five Talent Stars in archery and just as many in spears. This is problematic for me.
Third: I could ambush Nate, track him, and choose an unfavorable battlefield for him. But how do I track a goddess of hunting without her noticing she's being hunted? I don't know. So far, I have no definite answer. All I've concluded is that I must corner her in a city and never in nature, especially not in a forest!
Fourth: Her Da'Nnan's artifact rope! Until I find out what kind of artifact it is and its properties, engaging Scully in combat before I reach Mithril would be suicidal. By the way, this hunting artifact perfectly fits my theory about the goddess of hunting – who else but she would possess something like it?
Fifth: preparation. First and foremost, before meeting the Australian, I need to focus on defending against long-range attacks. My four Stars in Lightning and the "Fairies Dancing in the Sky" spell will assist me in this. It would also be very beneficial to advance Earth to three Stars and learn Metal magic. It's fortunate that the ritual Arien performed in the Last Cycle will help me with the necessary Talent Stars. I must definitely push the future Goddess of Spontaneous Magic to repeat this ritual.
Sixth: equipment. Without good weapons and armor, it's not even worth attempting this. Absolutely not worth it. I won't be able to obtain the desired items until I reach Emerald. Or… Or I need to find Katashi and somehow persuade or force him to forge armor and a spear tip for me. Even now, at Steel - and I have no doubt the Japanese blacksmith is already at this rank - he creates wonders that astonish local Ruby blacksmiths. Ideally, find or buy an ingot of Avalonium or Valirium and bring it to Katashi. Fundamentally, obtaining them is feasible if I have enough money. It would be even better to save up for a kilogram or two of Reardane before approaching the Japanese smith. Although a Reardane ingot would cost me more than a war galley, that's a minor detail. I won't even mention Mithril.
Summing up these thoughts, I quietly chuckled. I do have grand plans for future encounters with the Shards. Each one - more enticing than the next. I theoretically know how to give Nate a beating as long as he doesn't advance to Sapphire or higher. I also have thoughts on making Arien feel inept at magic. Push Katashi to his limits so that he aspires to improve even faster. And now - also to hunt the future Goddess of Hunting. These are quite delightful plans! The only one I still want to avoid at all costs is Dice.
Having covered another ten kilometers, I hadn't encountered a single person. This was somewhat strange, as dawn had already broken, and as far as I know, travelers and caravaners prefer to start their journey in the cool of the morning. Apparently, the sense of danger I felt while passing through the gorge wasn't due to a bout of unwarranted paranoia. Most likely, the locals are wary of charting their routes through this gorge, which means the threat I sensed wasn't mere delusion. This, by the way, is a bit odd. At such a distance from the Wicked Woods, human habitation is relatively safe, and with each passing kilometer, I expected to encounter some settlement. There should be plenty of them, especially along such a trade path, since big roads in this part of Ain are quite rare. Moreover, even though in the vicinity of the city of Katiyer "the past me" had been only once, my memory hinted that there are many Bronze and Steel dungeons nearby.
One of the Steel dungeons in this area was inhabited by nends, and "I" had visited there. However, since I was already a Wootz at that time, I hired local tunnellers to kill the dungeon boss and obtain the unique wool. Plus, that day, I visited the ruined temple of Magevra, where Arien found a description of a ritual, and I personally examined its walls and the remaining frescoes. Alas, the only conclusion I reached was that without the intuitive understanding of magic inherent to Arien, I couldn't decipher that the walls of the half-ruined temple depicted parts of a unique ritual. Although I did understand why the rare wool of a nend was needed from one of the drawings. This temple seems to be located on the eastern shore of a lake, so if I make a slight detour and don't head straight to Katiyer, I can peek into it. After pondering this thought for about five minutes, I concluded that I must definitely look into the Temple, and it won't be a waste of time. The fact that the "past me" had been there and found nothing of interest doesn't matter. I am not "him," and examining a true minor Temple, albeit ruined and abandoned centuries ago, with my current "Understanding of Runes" skill might be beneficial. But even if I find nothing there, it will be the first place where the "past me" was, and the present me will visit. This will allow me to compare memories with reality, although those memories of visiting the Temple were not very clear.
A couple of kilometers later, the road made a turn, and I came to the first human settlement. It was located on the bank of a narrow stream. The village itself was small, about thirty houses, but right by the road stood a somewhat dilapidated yet fairly large inn capable of accommodating a couple of caravans for rest.
At a substantial outdoor table, which stood under a canopy, exactly ten people sat. Six men and four women. Even though they were dressed casually, each of them was armed. They were either caravan guards or, more likely, since there were no wagons with goods in sight at the inn, a group of tunnellers. The only unusual thing is that for standard expeditions and dungeon clearing, no more than six tunnellers are required, and for boss raids, locals gather full groups of twelve people. Yet, there were precisely ten sitting at the table. However, another two might be inside the inn.
I took out the Sign of the Tunnellers' Guild from my bag and hung it on my chest, tying its ribbon in a bow-like fashion. Only after doing this and giving my face a tired look I approached the people.
"I'm telling you, we can handle it on our own!" I heard a loud exclamation from a gangly young man, about twenty, with a tuft of red hair, when I was still about thirty steps away.
"Gontar, we came here for the festival. And it was a good festival." After taking a sip from his mug and carefully placing it back on the table, a stocky man with a thick beard reaching mid-chest responded to the redhead. "We rested and spent the night; we are thankful for that. But we were invited to relax, not to work."
"Exactly!" A strong woman in her thirties, distinguished by a magnificent braid that reached her waist and was as thick as my wrist, immediately supported the bearded man. "I agree with Mohlah!" Her voice was powerful and ringing. "We came for the festival. The festival is over, and once we finish this beer and clear our heads from last night's festivities, we'll be on our way."
"Come on," another woman joined the conversation. She was slightly younger than the first but seemed to command respect from everyone at the table. "We all understood that inviting us to a festival in honor of the new house built by Gontar was just an excuse."
"If you understood and still came," the gangly redhead quickly picked up on her words, "then... I talked to each member of your group, Naytra, last night, and none of you objected. Mohlah, you too, by the way, didn't oppose or refuse me. So what suddenly changed this morning?"
"There are six of you," the bearded man noted, glancing around the table, "and five of us. We've long been in our groups, but we've also worked together many times. That's right." Taking a leisurely sip from his mug, giving himself a pause, he continued, "But six plus five is not twelve!"
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"That's what I've been counting," the woman with the braid started demonstratively bending her fingers, "and indeed, not twelve."
"We're a full eleven!" The redhead passionately countered. "Didn't we, in the same group, clear the Wailing Cavern completely just this spring? We came to help you back then and assisted in defeating the boss."
"Don't mix apples and oranges," the confident woman calmly replied, "The boss of the Wailing Cavern was just a Steel necromancer, but you're calling us for a very dangerous target. And we'll go for it only as a full group. Not ten, not eleven, only a full party, twelve and no less! That's it, Gontar - I've said my piece, and I won't repeat it."
When those words were spoken, everyone seated at the table turned to face me and fell silent. Such a reaction to a stranger wasn't unusual. Any unfamiliar face in these parts could be a potential threat. But, noticing the Sign of the Tunnellers' Guild and the color of its ribbon on my gambeson, those seated at the table somewhat relaxed; at the very least, none of them even reached for the hilts of their blades.
"Traveler!" Gontar sprang to his feet and addressed me. "A brother in the Guild, come sit at our table! Judging by your appearance, your journey has been long and arduous. Drink, eat, rest. I am celebrating, as I just finished building my new home yesterday. Please, sit beside me, bestow upon us the blessing of Sundbad, and tell us of your journey."
The others at the table raised their mugs in agreement with his words and nodded invitingly. From the coordinated nature of their gestures, these people had likely fought side by side many times before and understood each other without words.
"Raven from Seattle," I said, approaching the table and nodding to everyone. On this side of the Ridge, bows in the Eastern style were not held in high regard among peers. And the people at this table were fighters of the same Steel rank as me.
Hearing their responses and, as usual with me, immediately forgetting half of their names, I took a seat on a rough stool in the center of the table. A bearded man gave it up for me, moving to a bench. This showed that I was treated as a guest, not just a regular visitor, which implied a slightly different attitude. As I sat, I immediately folded my hands in the Sign of Sundbad, indicating that I truly was a traveler, not a mercenary rushing about on business.
"Malka!" The wiry man shouted toward the inn, "Stop flirting with Antan, bring us another mug and a new barrel! And Antan! Come out as well; we have a new guest at our table."
Ten pairs of eyes stared at my face, but I wasn't concerned; it was quite normal. The ensuing silence over the table wasn't due to awkwardness; I knew what they were expecting from me. Within moments, a young blushing girl emerged from the door, hurried over, and placed a frothy drink before me. Following her was a young man. As youthful as Gontar, tall, with a shaved head, and quite broad-shouldered. He carried a forty-liter barrel on his shoulder. Nodding to me, he introduced himself, set his load on the table, expertly drove a tap into the barrel, filled his mug, and took the previously vacant spot. Raising my beer, I declared:
"May Antares and Dairin illuminate you, and may Seguna, the Night Sister, favor you."
It was uncommon to mention the Night Sister in such greetings, but I "remembered" that in these lands close to the Wicked Woods, they held the Goddess of Twilight, evening coolness, and wandering souls in high regard. After speaking, I took a big gulp of the sweet, almost jelly-thick beer.
"Raven, tell us, what brings you to our lands?" asked an unremarkable, small but wiry man with tousled hair and a piercing gaze.
Unlike everyone else at the table, I "remembered" him. It was his "past self" that I had hired to kill the nend boss. Gronthor from Marsikinica, a skilled and experienced fighter. It is he, not the loud-mouthed Gontar, who is the leader of the local Tunnellers' Guild. The other group that arrived for the festival and stayed until morning was led by a woman who was arguing with the young man. I tried to remember her name when everyone introduced themselves - Vivien.
"It's simple," I shrug, passing my empty mug to Antan and waiting for him to fill it. Only after receiving my beer did I continue, "I needed poison and the eyes of harakandids." I shrug again. "Didn't go deep into the Wicked Woods. But I was unlucky…"
"What, couldn't find the spiders?" asked the owner of a magnificent braid, reminding me of my hairstyle ruined by Paravi.
"No, more like he did find them," the bearded man laughed heartily and nodded towards my gambeson.
"I found one," I calmly nod, take a sip from my mug, and continue, "Only that was a Wootz one." The entire table went silent, hanging on to my every word. "I was told they only dwell deep inside the Wicked Woods. But this creature spread its webs near the entrance. In the end, I had to drop my chainmail and spear and run."
"Why'd you drop your chainmail and weapon?" Antan wondered.
"You fool!" Gronthor immediately slapped him on the back of the head, and the burly man just ducked his head in response. "Where there are harakandids, there are their webs."
"Exactly," I nod in agreement, "the spear got tangled, and the chainmail saved me. When I brushed against the hunting spider's web, the chainmail got stuck, and I had to leave it behind." I sigh heavily. "Took a job and not only didn't earn anything but lost nearly a hundred gold coins." I see puzzled looks and clarify, "My armor and spear were good."
My regret was genuine. I was indeed upset about the lost equipment. Letting these feelings show on my face, I evoked genuine sympathy from those at the table, and the conversation immediately became much less tense. They questioned me cautiously, but my lie was consistent, and the locals couldn't catch any contradictions. In less than ten minutes, the conversation became completely relaxed. And by the time I finished my mug, I had figured out what was going on.
As far as I understood, the young Gontar had finished building his house and organized a celebration for the occasion. He not only invited the villagers and members of his tunnellers' group but also an allied group with which he had cleared complex dungeons several times over the past few years. Representing this second group were the bearded man, the woman with a braid named Vivien, and another middle-aged couple, apparently spouses. The tension between the groups of tunnellers I had noticed earlier was caused by Gontar using the celebration to achieve his goals. For some urgent reason, the freckled guy had to clear a complex dungeon and specifically kill the boss inside, not just reset the dungeon. This had to be done urgently because, by tomorrow, that dungeon would go into Overflow, and the local group would still have to reset it. An ordinary group of five or six coordinated fighters could handle a regular Dungeon Reset without clearing the boss. But Gontar desperately wants, in his words, to "finally" kill the boss this time. He needed to prove something to his father-in-law. The locals apparently knew about this story, but I didn't think it necessary to ask the young man about something so personal.
Another half an hour later, the tunnellers at the table started to feel a bit tipsy, apparently due to the heavy partying they did the previous night and the late hours that followed. So much so that the beer flowing freely at the table, even if not very strong, but "on old yeast," loosened their tongues. No, none of them were drunk, not even heavily intoxicated, but their conversations became more relaxed. Of course, they continued to question me; the locals were curious to know how people live in other places and what is happening far from their native villages.
"So, you live in Deytran now?" Gronthor unexpectedly inquired, addressing me. "I've been there once. Where's your house?"
"On West Park Street," I replied without hesitation.
"Is it near the Square of Valor and the monument to the heroes of the demonic war?" The head of the local group clarified.
"No," I shook my head, "that monument is closer to the North Embankment."
"Oh!" Gronthor feigned surprise and demonstratively slapped his forehead. "Right! I mixed it up. I'm getting old, approaching my fifth decade, and my memory is foggy."
How could he have gotten it so wrong? No, it was another test, but the "previous me" had lived long enough in Deytran not to fall for such a ruse. Upon hearing my response, Gronthor caught the gaze of the freckled man and gave him a barely noticeable nod. The redhead, as if just waiting for such a cue, grabbed his mug and jumped to his feet.
"Raven!" He addressed me in a way designed to draw the attention of everyone present. "It was Sundbad himself who brought you to us, wishing our paths to cross on this Way! This is definitely a sign of fate."
"Perhaps," I replied succinctly to his emotional outburst, tilting my head in curiosity.
The bearded man and Vivien seemed pleased with my calm reaction.
"Well, look!" Grontar, moving closer to me, continued, "You come back from a failed mission, which only brought you losses, and you meet us. You meet us just when we are short of a twelfth tunneller for a dungeon sweep! It's definitely a Sign of Fate!"
"Are you suggesting I join?"
"And not for free!" The redhead grinned broadly. "In addition to an equal share, I'll throw in five extra gold coins on top!"
"What dungeon?" I inquired without showing much interest.
In truth, I was intrigued by the idea of delving into a dungeon with an experienced local group of tunnellers. Not so much for the loot - there's unlikely to be anything interesting for me at the Steel rank - but to "reacquaint" myself with teamwork. To translate skills from the "memory of the future" into real-world collaboration skills. Moreover, now that my Core is Perfect, it needs more growth energy. And now, alchemical Metal Elevation Pills won't be enough to reach Wootz solely through their consumption. Although my Core is already half-filled from the Achievement "Catalyst," extra stock on this front wouldn't hurt.
"The Library Dungeon," the freckled one said, much quieter, pausing for a moment.
I took this pause to display my knowledge:
"That's the one with many halls and huge empty shelves along the walls. If I'm not mistaken, it resembles the ruined underground repositories of Aerad's temples."
As soon as I finished speaking, a tall man about my height but a bit stockier, with a forming belly, who had been silent until then, slammed his mug on the table, jumped to his feet, and yelled in the face of the stout little man sitting opposite:
"Aerad's, not Ishii's! Hear me, Labar! Aerad's! Even a traveler from Deytran knows that! And you kept telling me it was the dungeons of Ishii's Temple! For five years, you've been feeding me your nonsense!"
"Alright, alright, Nort, calm down," the stout man immediately raised his hands in surrender. "You were right, I admit. I owe you one."
"That's better," the tall man exhaled more peacefully and sat back down, his face radiating deep satisfaction.
Once this scene ended, I turned my gaze to the redhead and said, adding a metallic edge to my voice:
"Nends, right? And the goal is the Steel-ranked Monkey King?"
"Yes." The lanky man replied much more quietly and with less bravado.
"Seven gold and a share," I declared, making it clear I wasn't open to negotiation.
In the Last Cycle, "I" had paid Gronthor 120 gold coins to clear this dungeon and kill its boss, which equates to ten for each tunneller, and promised the same amount if they fetched fur of the needed shade, leaving all loot for them. So even the five gold mentioned by the redhead at the beginning was a reasonable offer. Not that I needed those two extra gold coins, but if I hadn't raised the stake, it would appear suspicious to them.
"Agreed." It seemed the lad really felt the pressure since he agreed instantly.
"Still," I stood up, gesturing to myself, "I lost my armor and weapons; I won't be of any use in the dungeon."
"We have Norton as a spearman," Gontar immediately chimed in, "so there shouldn't be any problem with weapons, right?" The tall man whom the redhead addressed nodded in agreement. "And Nort, you haven't sold your old chainmail yet? It seems you and Raven are the same height. You're heavier, but his gambeson is unusually thick, so there's no need to adjust the armor."
"I haven't agreed yet," the tall man frowned.
"If anything gets damaged, I'll compensate," the lanky man reassured him without a moment's doubt.
"In that case... okay..." Norton waved his hand dismissively.
Without sitting down, I stretched my arms and said:
"I'd like to see it first, try it on, get a feel for it."
"Sure, I don't mind," Norton also stood up and waved invitingly. "I live close by, near the river. Let's go."
Norton's house was indeed nearby, and the three of us - since the redhead followed us - reached it in just ten minutes. Entering first, the tall one led me to a separate room where I immediately realized that Norton was a true professional tunneller. Not a warrior, not a fighter, but specifically a tunneller: one whose job is to clear out dungeons and extract resources from them, killing monsters only incidentally along the way. Along one of the walls stood a dozen different spears. Each was designed to combat a specific type of foe. Evidently, Norton had a spear for each of the dungeons he visited, and all his weapons, although few, varied in functionality. Unlike the Arena fighters, he didn't rely on one favorite weapon and was peasant-practical. The one on the far left with a slim faceted tip was most likely designed to pierce the thick fur of the nends. As if confirming my thoughts, the homeowner approached that spear and laid his hand on it:
"This one I'll take myself. Choose from the rest as you like."
Evaluating the "collection," I picked one almost like Norton's but with a wider tip.
"Good. Leave it here for now." Bending over to a chest in the corner, he pulled out a chainmail smelling of plant oil, clearly seen better days, but still whole and undamaged. "Here."
I unbuckled my belt, put on the armor, and buckled up again. The redhead's eye didn't deceive: thanks to the multi-layered gambeson, the chainmail fit me as if bespoke. It wasn't as good as Larindel's armor, but it was sturdy and reliable, without missing or disconnected rings.
"I gather you're selling it?" I ask.
"Yes, I went to Katiyer, but the stingy folks there offered such a price that I found it laughable." Norton frowned.
"How much?"
"Twenty-three, and it's yours!" The tall one perked up, sensing my interest.
"I'll give you twenty, here and now." Saying this, I stretched out my open palm.
Norton hesitated for almost a minute, then sighed heavily and said:
"Well... If it's here and now..."
Our palms met in a firm handshake.