Most of the day passed unnoticed. After trying on Norton's chainmail, he gifted me a bag for it and a flask of oil to care for the armor. Additionally, noticing a large stash of potions in the house, I stocked up thoroughly. Since I was a fellow tunneller who was about to face a tough boss, he sold me the alchemy at the price he'd bought it for. Even though I bought two dozen bottles, replenishing both my belt and backup kits, Norton's stash hardly took a hit. This spoke volumes about, let's say, Norton's commendable frugality and preparedness. Being a Steel-ranked tunneller, he was fairly affluent by local standards and didn't hesitate to spend generously on gear and consumables that not only could save his life but also made his regular job easier. For the same reasons, he refused to sell one of his spears, even when I offered one and a half times the market price. I could've paid double, but it would've sparked unnecessary gossip, so I refrained. We then returned to the table where the other tunnellers were still buzzing, their previous night's celebration smoothly transitioning into a morning hangover cure session.

Red-haired Gontar immediately "delighted" everyone by announcing that Norton's chainmail fit me so well I even bought it. The lanky guy was over the moon with joy. Vivien, the leader of the tunnellers from the neighboring community, tried to steer away from the topic of the Monkey King's assassination. But Gontar didn't let that happen, reminding her of the favor they owed the local party for helping kill a wizard-necromancer in the Wailing Cavern a month ago. With such an argument, especially after my agreement brought the tunneller count to an exact twelve, Vivien had no ground to stand on. After a brief consultation among themselves, the guests agreed. This decision instantly lightened the mood, and the morning tipple naturally and finally turned into a cheerful booze-up.

While sitting with everyone at the table, occasionally answering when addressed, I learned many details about local life. For instance, Gontar's burning desire to kill the Monkey King wasn't just a whim; he had a very personal and substantial reason for it. His aspiration arose because his father-in-law, a retired tunneller himself, would reproach Gontar during family quarrels, pointing out that unlike him in the past, Gontar had never killed a boss of the Library Dungeon. Now, Gontar dreams of presenting the Monkey King's Heart to his father-in-law during an argument, silencing his endless accusations about Gontar's incompetence.

I also became convinced that the alarming gaze I felt on me at dawn while passing through the gorge wasn't just my imagination. It turns out that about two weeks ago, a group of bandits had chosen that place as their ambush spot. The head of the local tunnellers, Gronthor, even gathered his team to drive the robbers away. However, when they arrived at the gorge five days ago, they were met by a battle-ready squad of seasoned warriors who had also taken extremely advantageous positions, presumably having spotted the tunnellers in advance. Additionally, merchants mentioned only Bronze fighters and their leader - a Steel mage. In fact, on top of that, there was also a mage among them who wielded Wootz spells. In the end, after a brief ranged skirmish, the tunnellers retreated. I could understand them. If these bandits were burning the fields of their villages or stealing livestock from their neighbors, they would have fought to the end. And most likely, they would have defeated the robbers. But the trade route was of little interest to the tunnellers. Gronthor's team didn't sell the fruits of their labor to the caravans; they sold them directly in the nearest city, thus getting a much better price for their efforts. After Norton received a minor injury in that battle, the tunnellers left. They weren't warriors in the direct sense of the word - none of them were trained to fight against humans; they were used to battling dungeon spawns, not killing others like themselves. Rightly thinking that even if they won the battle against the bandits, they might lose some of their own, the locals left the traders to deal with the problem that concerned them. Moreover, as Norton said, "These Da'Nnan's traders raise prices all the time, so let them sort it out themselves; they can hire someone to drive the bandits away - they won't go broke! Why should we work for them?". By the way, everyone at the table supported his words, including the guest team.

The drinking spree lasted for another couple of hours. Until Gronthor stood up and yelled at Malka not to bring out any more beer. After finishing off the remains from the barrel on the table, the tunnellers started to disperse. Gontar and Norton lived permanently in this village near the inn, and the local team went to nap at theirs before the evening dungeon expedition. The guests went to rest at the inn. I also rented a small room there and, after taking off my heavy gambeson, fell onto a relatively soft bed for the first time in two days. After which, probably due to the nearly ten liters of beer I drank, I immediately fell into a dreamless sleep.

I woke up on my own, nobody had disturbed me. Thanks to my Adamantium body, my head didn't hurt at all after the morning drinking session, but just in case, I took a potion to detoxify my system. After which, I spent nearly twenty minutes locked in an outdoor toilet. It was quite the experience, but after returning to the inn and quickly drinking almost two liters of the purest spring water, I felt perfectly fine. I collected my belongings, declined a hearty lunch, and headed to Norton's house. Judging by the position of the sun and Dairin, it was about six in the evening, which meant I had slept a solid seven hours, if not more, and my body could feel it. I truly had rested during that time, recuperating after such a long escape from the Wicked Woods.

The tall tunneller had also awakened by this time, and, sitting on the porch of his house, he sharpened a short belt sword, which seemed to serve as his backup weapon. Noticing me, Norton perked up, even the slightest signs of drowsiness disappearing from his face. Wiping the blade and sheathing it, he suggested a little warm-up before the expedition planned for the night. Knowing full well he wished not just to warm up but to assess the abilities of someone he would soon be facing a challenging boss with, I readily agreed. We promptly donned our armor, took the long staves prepared in advance by the tall man, which effectively mimicked spear shafts, and went to the bank of a calm, quiet river, which locals simply called the "Lazy River."

As soon as we stepped onto the bank with the tall man, he immediately assumed a sparring stance. Pretending not to notice, I walked a few more steps and began to stretch. After standing for a few moments with his staff pointed forward, Norton lowered his weapon and joined my warm-up. Since there was no rush, I first stretched in a way familiar to me from Earth, getting used to the fit of my new chainmail. Only when I felt unimpeded by the armor did I begin the kata. I executed the "All Elements" routine several times before moving on to more complex sets. By the time I finished - the whole session took me over an hour and a half - the sun was nearing its set, and all the tunnellers I had met during the morning feast had gathered on the shore. This was what I had anticipated. Finishing my routine, I greeted everyone again and offered Norton a "spear dance." The tall tunneller immediately agreed. We set sparring rules: no hits to the head or groin, and avoid harming the hands and knees. After both accepting these terms, we stood facing each other, pointing our tip-less shafts forward.

Within seconds of our practice fight, I became entirely convinced that Norton, and likely all the local tunnellers, were no match for me. The tall man held his "spear" as he used to, fighting dungeon creatures all his life, not as one would against a human opponent. With two light movements - a single feint - I could easily bypass his defense and knock him out with a powerful blow to the solar plexus. No chainmail, even if reinforced with metal plates, would save him. Of course, I decided not to end our training bout so quickly and, as a result, humiliatingly for my opponent. I still had a dungeon to clear with him, where we would be covering each other's backs. So, I danced with him for about thirty seconds, then delivered a focused but considerably softened strike directly to the center of his chest plate. Norton immediately raised his hand, acknowledging the hit, and we stepped back, preparing to engage once again after a couple of breaths.

Norton was probably good at his job, clearing dungeons, but as a fighter against humans, he was frankly weak. He clearly has about three fully filled Talent Stars in spearmanship, but the same sheriff Ender's assistant, Tuan, despite being of Bronze rank, I think, would have defeated him in a direct spear duel. So, in our sparring match, I tried to be careful. I wasn't planning on revealing my true skill level. Because if I showcase everything I can do, they'd quickly place me in the main combat unit in the upcoming expedition, and I have no desire to face the Monkey King directly. Unlike the boss I killed to earn the "Pure Palm of Five Empty Fingers" achievement, this one was on Steel, therefore being a much more dangerous opponent. I had to show that I was as good as or slightly better than Norton, but no more.

"Nort!" After the tall man took his eighteenth blow to the chest, Anneta -the girl whose braid I was somewhat envious of - jeered: "Give it up, you have no chance!"

"Shut up, Neta!" The tall man, stung by a string of constant losses and the fact that he hadn't even touched me with his staff, snapped back. "I almost got him last time."

"Oh sure, you did!" The girl laughed mischievously. "Look closer! You've got eighteen steel plates on the chest of your new chainmail, and notice, Raven has hit every single one of them! Every single one, without repetition! Don't make our guest go another round!"

Those words sobered Norton. He lowered his gaze to his armor and frowned, seemingly recalling where my blows had landed. Turns out I wasn't as cautious as I thought. Because I indeed, for my own amusement, aimed to "mark" all the chest plates of the tall tunneller's armor with my staff. After pondering for a while, closely examining his armor for nearly a minute, Norton looked up at me and smiled warmly:

"Ah! It's true. I admit it. Raven, you're better than me. And that's a good thing."

"Right," Grontar chimed in, "You're thinking correctly, Nort. The stronger our guest, the better he'll cover your back." Saying this, the sinewy man gave a resounding slap to the redhead standing next to him and said, "Look at Nort and learn. That's a wise man. Doesn't get worked up over a loss like a small child. It's clear that he's a man, not a whiner."

The redhead first flared up, his face turned red, but he held back, humbly bowing his head to the elder and muttered:

"I get it, I get it."

Being praised by Grontar, who also served as the sheriff in this area, clearly pleased Norton. So much so that the tall man quickly forgot about his defeat in the training battle and just stood there proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

During our sparring session, Norton also used several spells I was interested in. While the other tunnellers were training, I asked him to teach me one of them. Specifically, a technique from the arsenal of Earth Magic called "Bull's Strength," which, as the name implied, temporarily increased strength. The "past me" knew it, so I had no doubts that I'd be able to master it quite quickly once I was shown its execution. Ain's magic isn't just about knowledge or memory; it's about Understanding. And this Understanding was something my "memory of the future" couldn't convey. However, this was intuitively clear to me. What use is it if you know how to perform, for example, a triple twist dismount from a bar and even have seen others do it hundreds of times? Purely theoretical knowledge is of little use. Until you master it yourself, all you might get are broken bones, no matter how many videos you've watched or books you've read on the subject. And without a good trainer, at best, you'd only produce a pale imitation instead of a correctly and beautifully executed exercise.

In the hour, while the others warmed up, I managed to use the spell a couple of times successfully. Once I fully master it, I'll be able to become almost a third stronger for a few minutes. One could say that learning this technique alone was already worth my agreement to venture into the Library Dungeon. Moreover, Norton didn't ask for any money for his guidance, understanding that the stronger I became, the easier the dungeon clearing would be. Hence, it was beneficial for everyone.

At the end of the training, Gronthor gathered everyone and gave a brief lecture about the Library Dungeon. He shared what to expect and what to be prepared for. This was not just for me but also for Vivien's group, who until now had never ventured into that dungeon and, as I realized, hadn't previously encountered nends. However, each of the guests had spent many years clearing other, equally challenging dungeons, so they quickly grasped what they needed to know. I, on the other hand, mostly pretended to listen since, theoretically, I was probably the world's leading expert on this type of monster at the moment. More accurately, not my current self, but my past self, though in terms of theory, it didn't make much difference. This was confirmed by the Achievement "Pure Palm of Five Empty Fingers," inscribed in adamantium ink on my Core.

Vivien and Gronthor divided us into three unequal groups. The first - the leading - group included four guests led by Mohlan. Norton and I were designated to cover their flanks. The rest was divided into two trios, tasked with cutting off and blocking the corridors to prevent reinforcements while the leading group cleared the halls. The plan seemed reasonable, and I agreed without suggesting any changes. As for discussing the upcoming boss fight, it was decided to postpone it until the guests, including myself, could see the King's throne room in person. This was also a reasonable proposal that no one objected to. We spent another two hours practicing coordination within our squads. After this training session, I was fully confident that with such experienced tunnellers, a regular dungeon clearing of the common nends would go smoothly.

About an hour before midnight, we stood near the Entrance. We listened to Gronthor's instructions one more time and synchronously pressed our palms to the Dungeon Gate Stone.

"Twelve out of twelve?"

"Yes."

Library Dungeon bore no resemblance to the nends' habitat on Unudo. Instead of narrow, seemingly nature-made stone corridors, we were greeted by a wide corridor lined with marble, broad enough for ten people to stand side by side. Admittedly, only memories remained of this once perhaps beautiful lining, but it still looked impressive. The corridor was well-lit with numerous lamps, the oil from which was the primary resource of this dungeon and was highly valued by the priests. The locals cleared the dungeon once a month, not because they feared its inhabitants, but to maintain an artificial scarcity of this product in the market, essentially earning the same money by running the dungeon once a month as if they were clearing it every week. From the tunnellers' perspective, this was very logical; why work harder when you can earn the same amount working a quarter of the time?

Right here, just a few steps from the Entrance, we dropped all our bags and baskets. According to the plan, we would return here after clearing the area and safely fill them to the brim. As soon as we did this, a group of four nends appeared at the other end of the corridor. They were slightly larger and had lighter fur than the ones I fought in the Obsidian Dungeon, revealing their much higher power rank. The semi-intelligent beasts, of course, couldn't count, but even they had enough brains to understand that twelve is clearly more than four, and with loud grunts, they noisily ran away. Noticing Vivien's grimace at that moment, Gronthor immediately reassured her:

"We never hoped to catch them off guard. So everything is going as planned so far."

"You would know better." The leader of the guest tunnellers' group nodded and adjusted her scabbard.

"Remember, this is a dungeon with a Master," Gronthor began again, addressing everyone present. "So its layout changes every time. However, some things remain consistent. The first corridor always leads to a single hall, and where that hall is, to the right, left, or straight ahead, isn't really important."

"Nends won't attack us here," Norton chimed in as the sheriff fell silent. "They'll wait until we enter the hall and attack all at once. The initial onslaught is the strongest; if we withstand it, it'll immediately get easier. Remember, always keep an eye out; these creatures are strong and cunning, and they know how to throw rocks!" Then he shrugged, adding, "Pretty big rocks, actually."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"So," Gronthor spoke again. "The first group goes ahead; you'll take the brunt of the attack. The rest follow behind. Once we withstand the initial onslaught, the strike team moves forward, and the rest rush to block the other entrances to the hall. If there are two entrances and not one, those with me will take the one on the left. Vivien, yours will be on the right. If there's only one exit, my team will block it, and those with Vivien will help the main group clear the hall."

"Why repeat? We already discussed all this at the entrance," the redhead grumbled, immediately receiving a smack from the sheriff. "Okay, okay, I'm silent!" The lanky man quickly responded.

"Repetition is the mother of learning," I couldn't resist backing up the sheriff, earning a grateful look from him.

"Wise words. I should remember them," Vivien smiled at me.

"Let's go!" The brief command sounded, and I positioned myself to the right of Mohlan.

The smoothly curving corridor was fifty paces long and ended in a tall archway, two human heights high, which led to a hall as large as a hockey rink. The floor was strewn with shattered furniture, fallen stone blocks, and their fragments. Empty bookshelves, many of which were still in good condition, stretched from the floor to the ceiling, which rose to a full six meters. It was these shelves and the fact that the second resource obtained from this dungeon was sheets of chalk-white parchment that gave this place its name. As expected, there were already nends waiting for us inside. A dozen and a half of them were scattered throughout the hall, and seven more, bringing with them massive rocks, had climbed to the top of the bookshelves.

"Uncle," the redhead addressed Gronthor, "we're not in a hurry, are we?"

"We're not in a hurry, that's right," nodded the sheriff, stopping everyone about fifteen paces from the entrance to the hall.

"So, shall we do it the usual way?" Gontar asked him.

"Want to show off in front of our guests?" Antan smirked in response, adjusting his massive shield, which, even in the hands of such a giant, looked as big as a door taken off its hinges.

"It'll be easier for you, too," the redhead frowned.

"I don't mind," Vivien nodded, "we can also see Gontar's famous dance that he's been buzzing our ears about."

"Alright," the sheriff agreed.

With permission, the redhead sheathed his twin blades, smiled smugly, and leisurely, swaying with each step, went alone to the hall's entrance. As soon as the lad appeared in the archway, the nends shouted, and a barrage of stones flew at the tunneller. Gontar dodged the first three projectiles with lazy grace, not even lifting his feet from the ground, just swaying from side to side. But soon, the stone barrage from the nends intensified. If I were in the redhead's shoes, I would have slipped behind the arch to take cover, but he didn't think to do that. Instead of this entirely sensible decision, he stood his ground and kept dodging the stones. And he did it so confidently and beautifully that it truly resembled a dance. Not a smooth and slow one, but rather a whirlwind of sharp and broken movements. However, this didn't prevent Gontar's performance from being mesmerizing in its own way.

Nends had run out of large chunks of the ceiling blocks within a minute, and then the half-apes began to throw smaller stones. These projectiles weren't as destructive but flew much faster than the large fragments. In response, the redhead slightly changed his tactics, now occasionally taking cover behind the arch without any hesitation. All the while, Gontar kept laughing and mockingly guffawing at the half-apes, driving them into an even greater rage. If he had been alone, all the half-apes would've pounced at him long ago. But as dim-witted as the creatures were compared to humans, they understood that behind the man who mocked them stood a tight formation, their blades bared. So they continued to throw whatever came under their paws at the guy. And when they ran out of stones, they started hurling large pieces of furniture at him.

Waiting a couple more minutes until the half-apes were left with only splinters as potential projectiles, Gontar jumped back into the corridor. Backing away with his face toward the hall, he moved a dozen steps back and turned to us. His eyes shone. The guy bowed deeply and playfully, then made an inviting gesture:

"Please, come in."

"Begin!" A brief command sounded from the sheriff.

Passing by the redhead, the girl with a braid slapped him on the shoulder and said:

"You really can do more than just run your mouth!"

If the half-apes had been smarter, they would've formed a semi-circle at the entrance, but their brains didn't stretch to such an intelligent formation, and they allowed everyone to enter the hall. In doing so, they missed an advantageous moment and didn't attack before we could form up.

The first onslaught of the half-apes, as Gronthor had promised, was indeed terrifying, especially for the uninitiated. The members of the guest team to my left, led by the bearded man, even flinched, starting to retreat. But this potential breakthrough by the half-apes was stopped by Norton and me. Our spears, in sync from both sides, struck the flank of the central group of half-apes. While the tall man sought to wound, unsure whether he could take down the creatures in one blow and preferring to force them to retreat, I aimed to kill. The thick, matted fur certainly provided decent protection against steel weapons, but today I held in my hands a sturdy, sharp spear with a faceted tip. Most importantly, I knew where and how to strike! Three precise, calculated thrusts - and three creatures lay at Mohlan's feet. Another ten seconds - and two more half-apes, killed by my hand, joined the first trio. As the saying goes: "If you're going into a dungeon, rack up those achievements!" I didn't hold back and didn't play the newbie. The spear in my hands became like Odin's lightning, striking just as accurately and just as deadly.

"The right side is clear!" The sheriff immediately noticed my success and gave the command to break through. "Follow me!"

My and Norton's assistance helped Mohlan's shield bearers to hold their ground, and it proved fatal for the nends in the hall. The main group of tunnellers, led by the sheriff, quickly broke through the nends' line, taking advantage of the gap I had created, and flanked the monsters. This determined the outcome of the skirmish.

The tunnellers refrained from using incendiary alchemical bombs and other consumables, even sparing healing potions if the wound was not dangerous and superficial. They were on a regular, albeit dangerous, job and, like any person, wanted to do their duty without unnecessary expenses. Moreover, fire and other explosive potions could damage the quite expensive sheets of pure white parchment scattered here and there in the hall. In a minute, everything was over, and reinforcements for the half-apes defending the room didn't even arrive in time. The tunnellers finished off the seriously wounded nends without any hesitation. Out of the twenty-two half-apes, a dozen fell by my hand.

"Huh!" Once the battle was over, Norton leaned on his spear and stared at me. "You really were holding back during our warm-up fight. Now I understand." As an experienced tunneller, he didn't miss a single nend death because the subsequent loot distribution depended on it, and he perfectly understood who was the "MVP" here.

"You're not bad either." I brushed off his praise.

"We won't take anything with us," Gronthor gave a new order. "We'll come back once everything is cleaned up."

There were two exits from the hall. Leaving one warrior on guard in case the nends tried to sneak up from behind, the sheriff led everyone down the left corridor. After about fifty steps, we ran into a perturbed group of half-apes who, making noise, hurriedly ran away from us. The new hall that appeared before us beyond the high archway differed from the one we'd just cleared only in the color of its walls and the fact that it had not twenty-two but "only" nineteen creatures.

"Your turn." Grinning, the girl with a braid nudged the freckled guy.

"What's the matter? I'm always ready!" Gontar replied with a smile and stepped forward.

Although I had seen it once before, there was something hypnotically captivating about watching the redhead dance in the archway, dodging the stone barrage.

"Never gets old," Norton clicked his tongue, eyes fixed on the redhead. "I could watch him all day. He's got skill, the rascal! You watch him and would never think that he's such a screw-up in real life." Turning to me, the spearman added, "A useful screw-up, though."

After waiting for the monsters to run out of stones, Gontar returned to us and, bowing, repeated the familiar invitation.

"Begin!" The sheriff's command was clear to everyone, and our line quickly advanced forward.

This time, Mohlan's group faced the onslaught of the nends much more confidently, not retreating more than a single step. What greatly aided our combat was that the bearded man turned out to be not only a decent warrior but also a quite powerful support mage by Steel standards. Not a priest of Elai or Ishii, of course, but his support magic was nonetheless invaluable. It healed, strengthened, accelerated, and improved vision. Earthlings call such people combat buffers.

My spear struck without fail. One hit, one kill. It was easy for me, especially when the nends were distracted by fighting others. This time, everything ended even quicker because I joined the breach made by the sheriff's group. After breaking through the nends' line, in two jumps, I found myself behind them and began my harvest.

"Thirteen out of nineteen on Raven," Norton announced as he finished off the last nend, ensuring everyone heard.

"I confirm," Vivien agreed and added, "a dozen more in the previous room." She then turned to the sheriff and asked, "You mentioned there are five to seven of these halls, right?"

"Correct," Grontar briefly responded.

It turned out there weren't five or seven halls, but six. And we cleared all of them just as we did the first two. It wasn't anything unusual; locals usually take on such a dungeon in groups of six if they don't need to kill the boss inside. So, it was relatively easy for us. Only once did we have to revive the redhead who got too carried away and took a rock to the side. Those were all the injuries, apart from the scratches that were easily healed with lesser potions. By the time we reached the Monkey King's hall, I had taken down sixty-nine nends, more than the rest combined. To alleviate potential grumbles, I said:

"I'll take an equal share, as we initially agreed."

My words significantly calmed the tunnellers, who began to worry about their income. According to the Tunnellers' Guild rules, the loot is divided as follows: first, taxes are deducted from the total "pile." Half of what remains goes to the common share, and the rest is distributed based on each participant's contribution to the expedition. Because of the latter rule, disputes often arise. The main root of disagreements lies in the fact that combat mages and warriors often try to downplay the share of buffers, debuffers, and healers.

Approaching the central hall of the entire dungeon, we took turns peeking into it. The room, in the center of which sat the King or, as the locals called him, the Master, was about three times larger than the halls we had cleared earlier. Even though there was only one monster in this hall, none of the tunnellers were in a hurry to enter. This massive brute was far more dangerous than all the half-apes we had slain before. Outwardly, except for the color of its fur, it hardly differed from the one I killed in the Obsidian Dungeon. But that was only outwardly. In reality, this beast was many times stronger than the boss from Unudo. I wouldn't risk facing this monster one-on-one now, even armed. But our team had performed well, so I had no doubt about defeating it.

"The monster can use ice magic. Its 'Ring of Ice' is especially dangerous. Once you hear a roar rougher than usual, hide immediately. Regular magical shields of Steel and even Wootz rank won't protect you from this spell. You'll turn into an icicle instantly!" The sheriff instructed us once again, reiterating what he had already said at the Entrance. "Now, let's go over everyone's role because there will be changes." Gronthor turned to me. "Raven - our main attacker. Any objections?" After how I had performed on this expedition, no one contradicted the sheriff. "We distract the beast, giving Raven the opportunity to strike. Remember, its fur cannot be pierced by a steel or wootz axe, sword, or even the sharpest spear. Raven, aim for the nose and eyes."

"You just blind it," the redhead interjected, "and then we'll trample it!"

"May I suggest a correction?" I raised my hand.

"Go on," the sheriff turned to me again.

"Just let me approach from its back and give me two to three seconds, completely distracting it. And yes, I heard that its skin can't be pierced by regular weapons, but I have my secrets. Again, three, a maximum of five seconds from behind, and I'll cripple it so much it'll only be spitting blood."

"You sure?" The sheriff sounded deeply skeptical, and I understood his sentiment; he was reluctant to trust a stranger with the lives of his people.

In response, I leaned towards a large boulder, which had fallen from the ceiling ages ago and had since grown mossy. I touched it with an open palm. "Des" - my lips silently mouthed the word. The half-ton stone shuddered instantly, cracks appearing all over before it crumbled into small gravel.

"Impressive," Mohlan spoke for everyone.

"So, it's decided," the sheriff summarized, "we use all our strength to get Raven behind the beast and give him time."

After my demonstration, everyone unanimously accepted this proposal.

"Five minutes to prepare!" Gronthor commanded.

Those minutes passed in the blink of an eye.

The redhead was the first to burst into the hall, immediately hurling stones at the Master. This was according to the plan. However, what wasn't planned was the King, without moving from its spot, sharply put its paw forward, sending the freckled lad crashing into the wall. The impact was so powerful that, though he remained conscious, he couldn't get back to his feet immediately.

"Power Push!" Vivien shouted. "Gronthor, you didn't tell us!"

"Because I didn't know!" The sheriff yelled back, being the first to rush to the freckled lad's aid. "His spell arsenal changes slightly with every raid! And sometimes there are surprises like this. Or do you think we avoid him because we're cowards? No, it's because the creature is not only dangerous but also unpredictable!"

Following the sheriff, we hurried forward. The King responded to our entrance with a thunderous roar, still not moving from its spot. Remembering the warning and being the last to enter, I hid behind an arch beam. A cold wave blasted through the entrance with a booming crack, instantly frosting the surrounding walls. After waiting out the powerful spell, which would have been fitting even for an Opal mage, I rushed forward. To my relief, none of the tunnellers were hurt, and even the redhead was already sitting, pushing aside an empty vial. The boss room had enough covers to endure its ultimate spell, provided one reacted on time.

The fact that the King revealed its trump cards straight away and no tunnellers died in the process had its benefits. At this dungeon rank, the boss had only two spells. From the briefing, I knew one was "Ring of Ice," and the other constantly changed. Judging by the sheriff's surprise, the boss had never used "Power Push" before. It was a very inconvenient spell for me, but it would have been even worse if the boss possessed, say, "Chain Lightning." Now, I was aware of both activations. "Ring of Ice" is preceded by a guttural roar, while before the "Power Push," the monster needs to raise its hand and point in the direction of the magical surge with an open palm. With this knowledge, as Katashi often said, "we can work."

As the boss needed something like a recharge before it could use magic again, the tunnellers seized this brief window, piling on him en masse. Except, of course, for the redhead, who was still recovering, and me. I stayed out of the fight at this stage, seeking an opportunity to approach the creature from behind. But even without its magic, the Monkey King was a formidable opponent. When its new roar sounded, it remained unscathed, while three of ours crawled for cover, considerably battered. However, judging by the sheriff's commands, no one was injured beyond the help of potions.

I waited out the new "Ring of Ice" pressed to the floor behind a large block. As soon as the cold wave passed over me, I instantly jumped up but immediately hid again when I noticed the boss's open palm directed at me. Just in time! A wave of compressed air, powerful enough to flip a pickup truck, passed by, merely ruffling my hair.

During this "recharge," not ten but only seven tunnellers attacked the boss. The rest were recovering, gulping down the alchemy. Nevertheless, despite the reduced number of fighters, the locals managed to injure the boss slightly. It was Norton who reached the King's brow with his spear. Another cold wave nearly froze my heels. I peeked from behind the cover and immediately hid again. This wretched creature seemed to instinctively sense the most dangerous of its enemies, reserving the "Power Push" specifically for me. On the other hand, that's better; it makes it much easier for the others.

During another "recharge," now ten tunnellers attacked the boss, including the redhead, who seemed to have recovered. Of those who were temporarily incapacitated, only Vivien was left, but she seemed okay. The King used its magical combo three more times. The tunnellers were not only holding on but even began working better together, pushing the boss and forcing it to retreat. Just as I thought, they could have handled it without me. This expedition consisted of two well-coordinated, experienced groups whose members understood each other without words.

After avoiding another "Ring of Ice," I leaped out of cover and rushed at the King. The monster's open palm aimed straight at my chest. But I had noticed earlier that before activating the "Power Push," the creature slightly moved its index finger. The moment the boss's finger began to shift, I used the spear shaft as leverage to soar high. The "Power Push," aimed without expecting me to vault up, naturally passed much lower. I dodged the monster's sweeping paw with an aerial somersault, and as its elbow was close, my palm with the Rune of Destruction drawn by illusion magic touched its elbow joint.

"Des!" I shouted, unable to hold back, adrenaline boiling inside me, making my blood rush faster.

When my feet hit the boss's shoulder, they, too, bore a rune.

"Des!"

Pushing off the monster's body, I landed on my feet and heard a deep roar. I immediately sought cover, diving behind it like a fish. Once the cold wave subsided, I saw the monster's left front paw hanging limply alongside its massive body. Aiming to secure our victory, I took a running start and slid forward on the smooth floor. The distracted Monkey King couldn't react in time and, with a scream full of pain, toppled over. He toppled because his right knee had been shattered by the Rune of Destruction.

The Library Dungeon's boss never got up again. Norton proved himself a true professional, and his spear penetrated the creature's eye socket to the shaft, ending the absurd life of this gigantic ape-like beast.

"We did it!" The redhead immediately shouted joyfully.