I sauntered along the scenic banks of a calm, slightly winding stream until sunset. I just kept walking, only occasionally grimacing because of the poorly made boots that slightly chafed my heels and the small toes of both feet. But they were still wearable, so it wasn't too bothersome. What did make me happy was that despite all the mishaps of the past days, the portal mishap – whether it was an accident or malicious intent – and all my losses, in just a few days, I had not only made up for everything but also ended up with a substantial gain. And while the chainmail on my shoulders wasn't as good as the one Larindel gifted me, the spear in my hand...
It's magnificent! A genuinely fantastic weapon that I wouldn't want to exchange for anything else through the entire Precious Coil! I don't even want to think about how much a similar one would cost me back in Deytran. It would be more than a thousand gold, and even then, no one would sell me a weapon with history, tried and tested by time. I had hoped to get something of similar quality only after meeting Katashi Atsushi and persuading him to craft a weapon specially for me. In essence, having this spear means I no longer need to "return" to the Patanga swamps, where the "past me" began Last Cycle. I won't find anything better than the "Striking Whisper" there. It's an incredible energy, money, and, most importantly, time savings. When I touch its shaft, I can genuinely feel this spear as an extension of myself. And the way it channels magic because of its Valirium core! Amazing! Much better than even the Lightning Dagger.
Coming across a deep ravine, about five meters wide, I easily jumped across, briefly enhancing myself with the spell I learned from Norton. After landing solidly on both feet, I turned around and gave a low whistle. It's one thing to "remember" that someday you'd be able to jump like this, from a standstill, across a five-meter-wide gap, and quite another to actually do it. Ah! If only I could return to Earth now! All the Olympic gold would be mine! But of course, I understood that these were mere fantasies that would never come true. Yet daydreaming time after time about standing on the podium was irrationally pleasant, even if it was utterly pointless.
As the sun neared the tops of distant hills, I chose a small sandy beach for my stop, dumped my belongings on the ground, and sat down on a large log washed ashore long ago. It was a good spot; a gentle breeze along the river kept the annoying bugs at bay and pleasantly cooled my skin. I stretched out as much as I could and spent a few minutes gazing at the sky.
Now, in this part of Ain, by Earth's standards, it's roughly the last decade of August. By the first and most prominent stars, already clearly visible in the sky, I once again assessed my location. Though I already knew it, having thoroughly questioned the locals during yesterday's feast. And I remembered a bit myself. If you imagine the continent as our Earth's Eurasia, then Tries would be located approximately where Hanoi is for us. The Great Ridge, in the same comparison, slices the entire continent from north to south. It's as if the Himalayas were flipped, enlarged, and stretched multiple times so that they would span from the cold shores of the Kara Sea to the hot Persian Gulf. As for me, in the same comparison, I'm located somewhere around Astrakhan[1] at this moment. So, if I were to walk to Deytran, which is roughly where Rome is for us, I'd still have a long way to go, to put it mildly!
But for some reason, such a prospect doesn't upset me this evening. After collecting firewood on the beach, I piled it up and prepared food for reheating, but I hadn't lit the fire yet. Instead, after taking off my chainmail, I took out from one of the many secret pockets of the orcish belt the fifth and last Metal Elevation Pill and swallowed it, washing it down generously with water from my flask. To my relief, the growth energy it harbored was sufficient, and I felt my Core ready for the Elevation.
Sitting in a lotus position and holding the spear on my lap, I delved into the deepest of meditations, releasing my consciousness into the Great Void. This time, the Elevation didn't go as smoothly as before, but by local standards, I managed the Core's reassembly fairly quickly. By the time I opened my eyes, the last sun's rays were still visible on the horizon.
Stretching out, I winked at Seguna, which had already appeared over the forest's treetops, growing on the opposite bank of the river, and jumped in place. Just jumped straight up... about two and a half meters. And I did it easily and casually, without any magic. A new strength filled me, demanding movement, a burst, but instead of indulging it, I calmly sat down, lit the fire, and started reheating dinner.
So, I've reached Wootz! Almost a month ahead of my previous schedule! A whole damn month! And if any of those damned Shards take the first place from me this time, as it happened with the ascent to Steel, then I'll find them and beat the hell out of them! Honestly, I'll thrash them so hard they won't get up. Even if it's Dice, I'll still thrash him!
Feeling excellent and with the Night Sister shining brightly, I had no intention of spending the night here. I warmed up my dinner and ate heartily, then boiled more water, filling both of my flasks. I then applied the ointment I bought from Norton to my feet to prevent blisters, waited for it to dry, extinguished the fire, and continued my journey along the bank.
Soon, the steppe on the river's left bank, where I was walking, gave way to a forest. This barely slowed me down because, unlike the Wicked Woods, this grove was sparse and relatively bright even at night. It even evoked a pleasant, relaxing feeling - it would be a nice place for a leisurely stroll.
My thoughts on the geography of Ain turned to Pentapolis. Specifically - to the Five Inverted Towers, where I believed answers to my questions and mysteries of the past could be found. That past, I believed, is echoed in the new Invasion. Each of the Inverted Towers was essentially a manifestation in the physical world of a god's soul and was unique in its own way. For instance, Sino's Tower was the most unpredictable, and the "past me" liked the least. Inside, you could either be extremely lucky, hitting the jackpot with minimal effort, or exert tremendous effort and come out empty-handed if luck wasn't on your side. Elai's Tower was teeming with life in all its forms, and "I" wasn't fond of it either since each floor was like an impassable jungle full of creatures. Antares' Tower was the most straightforward, but the foes you encountered were the strongest of all. As you journeyed, you had to prove at every turn that you were worthy and strong enough to descend further. After the "past me" managed to negotiate peace with Miranda, and she stopped spreading rumors about me, I frequented this Tower. The reason wasn't that "I" loved to fight but that the Shadows in the Tower of Light worked best, granting me certain advantages. The most favored by the "past me," if one can say so, was Dyled's Tower. And I, the present me, agree with that choice. To me, it seems the fairest. The loot you can find there often matches your efforts and determination. As for Aerad's Tower, in this Cycle, it piqued my interest the most. However, it's filled with mysteries, puzzles, and logical traps. To descend its floors, it would be wise first to enlist the help of Morpheus. Although, Morpheus specifically isn't essential. I could find other earthlings skilled and fond of solving puzzles and form a temporary team, providing them with numerous hints. From what I "remembered," among the earthlings transported to Ain by questers, there were many with such aptitudes. Nonetheless, I should begin my journey through the Floors of the Inverted Towers with the Tower of the God of Trade. Its specifics I "remembered" the best. As for the Tower of Sun City, it's best I don't venture there until I've fully resolved the conflict between Light and Shadow in my soul.
These leisurely reflections, as well as swimming through the waves of the "memory of the future," made my journey feel shorter. Before I knew it, dawn had broken, and I soon reached the confluence of two rivers that Norton had mentioned.
The river called Swift, at this point near its mouth, seemed not to live up to its name. It was broad, almost a kilometer across, and its waters were quiet and calm. However, twice a year: in spring, when the snow melts from the foothills of the Great Ridge, where it originates, and in late autumn during prolonged rains, according to the same Norton, this peaceful flow turns into a destructive force. Moreover, every few decades, this now seemingly calm river shifts its course slightly, much like the Huanghe, causing immense destruction in the process.
It was one such local catastrophe in ancient times that had destroyed the lesser Temple of Magevra to which I was now headed. Legends say that during a change in the Swift River's course, the Temple ended up at the center of a real flood for a while, and even the true altar was swept away so that no one has been able to find it since. Some say it lies deep within the river or was carried into the waters of Ilomen Lake, into which the Swift flows. According to the songs of the harpists, whoever finds this altar and returns it to the people will receive a great reward. However, the locals have long stopped searching, and the earthlings who were lured by the tales and wasted their time scouring for it ended up empty-handed. Though, I think that even if someone does find the altar, the reward for such a discovery will most likely be a disappointment since there's not even an Echo of Magevra in Ain. And even her True Altars in the Great Temples have been silent since the Fall. So, hoping for gratitude from the Echo of this goddess is out of the question. Of course, whoever finds the altar will receive some sort of Achievement, but just "some," not anything genuinely significant.
The Temple I sought, or rather its ruins, as the spearman had said, appeared in my sight after walking just a couple of kilometers along the bank of the Swift. It was located on a small peninsula overgrown with thick underbrush. Only one of its best-preserved walls peeked out from above the crowns of numerous young trees.
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Drawing nearer, I stopped at the entrance to the underbrush and took a short break. After eating a bit, I reapplied the ointment to my feet, rested, and only then proceeded further. Having navigated through the young trees and the excessively grown shrubbery, I arrived at the ruined temple. Once, in times long forgotten, it must have been beautiful, with intricate walls, amazingly slender twisted columns, and splendid enfilades. But now, it was just ruins, and its former beauty could only be surmised empirically. After leaping over the piles of ancient blocks scattered here and there, I paused in uncertainty.
What Norton told me about this Temple and what I saw now with my own eyes differed greatly. The spearman, according to his words, was here a few years ago, and all he saw were dense thickets of thorny bushes and vines covering everything, even the remnants of the walls. But what I saw painted an entirely different picture, more in line with what appeared in my "memory of the future." Someone had been here quite recently. And not just visited but cut down almost all the bushes and stripped the vines from the walls. Judging by the color of the cut branches, it happened no more than a week or two ago. Clearly, not just one person worked here, but a whole group. The remains of the Temple's interiors were cleared of the vegetation, which was then taken outside and burned. At least two large fire sites that I noticed, already covered with freshly fallen leaves, suggested just that.
The locals definitely wouldn't do this. On Earth, ancient ruins take one's breath away; they're restored, and crowds of tourists are brought to them. And if it's the ruins of a temple, as in this case, they'd be overwhelmed by pilgrims. But in Ain, it's different. Ruins are just ruins. Yes, truly ancient ones like these are respected by the locals, but that's it. Why would they worship the remnants of ancient architecture when, in any Temple, they can see the True Altar, touch it, and feel the presence of the Echo? Some ruined structure, especially one devoid of its altar, is insignificant in comparison. An empty shell that's bewildering to admire.
I'm sure if this temple were in a more accessible location, local peasants would have long since taken its stones, dismantling these once beautiful walls for building materials. By the way, such things happened on Earth as well. Most temples dedicated to ancient gods met such a fate, taken apart "brick by brick" by pragmatic locals. Their stones, once sacred to thousands of pilgrims, can be found even in the foundations of ordinary peasant constructions, including not only houses but barns. The history of the fall of the Roman Empire, of its decline, is literally filled with such facts.
Yet, someone came here and took the trouble to clear it. Like Arien did in the Previous Cycle, being highly intrigued by these Ruins. Being an intelligent person, she understood that something interesting might be discovered within these ancient remnants. And, surprisingly, she did find something. Shards do live up to their reputation. Millions of people could walk a road and notice nothing, but a Shard on the same road would discover a gold deposit. Could it be that in this Cycle, Arien's initial team appeared in Ain near the city of Katiyer again, and her story unfolds as it did back then? That would be... Splendid!
But my joy at this thought was short-lived. I quickly realized that any group of earthlings stumbling upon this Temple and noticing frescoes on its remaining walls through gaps in the overgrowth would consider such a clearing. Well, not any group, of course, but many would act precisely that way. Most of us were raised on the same books and movies. And I can't imagine that all five members of any of the starting groups never watched Indiana Jones movies or didn't play exploration-themed games, including board games and their computer adaptations, like the famous Dungeons and Dragons, for instance.
Pushing aside a brief disappointment, I smiled. I am sure I will meet Arien again; she isn't one of those who could die accidentally, like Scully, for example. And when I meet her, I will definitely bring her here. Or she might come herself. She'd rush here, dropping everything, if I just hinted at what the walls of this Temple hide.
Entering what once was the central hall of the Temple, I sighed with satisfaction. Whoever cleared these ruins approached the task thoroughly. They not only cut out shrubs and ripped off all the vines but also, apparently, carefully cleaned the walls. For over three hours, I wandered these ruins, examining the considerably faded but, in some places, still distinguishable ancient drawings. The temple wall paintings must have been breathtakingly beautiful once, but little of that remains now. How Arien gathered enough information from these fragments and restored the Ritual of Elemental Talent Redistribution is a mystery to me. It was an unsolvable puzzle for the "past me" and remains so now. Even "remembering" Arien's explanations, I wander along these ancient wall remnants, seeing no hint of any system in them.
Approaching the largest and best-preserved piece of frescoe, I placed my hand on it. A memory, like a bolt of lightning, pierced my mind:
"Look here, Raven." Arien's delicate finger points to the left side of the wall. "There's clearly a leaf depicted here, which, judging by the remaining paint shade, was once painted yellow. This leads us to the conclusion that we should look for a red circle. And..." a new hand gesture, "there it is, the red circle!"
"Leads?" The doubts of the "past me" are audible even in the "memory of the future."
"It's obvious!"
Alas, Arien's line of thought wasn't clear to me, neither then nor now. The future Goddess of Elemental magic indeed thought, let's say, unconventionally. Sometimes, she would get endlessly stuck on the simplest things, but there were times when she had truly brilliant insights.
An hour later, it became painfully clear to me that even knowing what to look for and what to pay attention to, my brain simply wasn't sufficient to restore the Ritual. This was somewhat infuriating and frustrating. I never considered myself stupid. Yes, I have made some questionable decisions in the past, but who hasn't? Whose life is flawless? But here, studying the ancient walls, I keenly felt my limitations. Deep down, without admitting it to anyone, I took pride in my intellect. And I had good reason for this. Unlike many other gymnasts I knew, I developed not only my body but also my mind. A special feather in my cap was that during a competition in Stockholm, I visited the European Mensa Center there and passed their tests, becoming a member of the organization[2].
Nevertheless, now I'm stumped by a riddle my mind cannot solve. Admittedly, I was prepared for this outcome from the start, but deep down, I had hoped that thanks to the "memory of the future," I could solve it on my own. I couldn't. To Da'Nnan with this puzzle! I'll bring Arien here; she'll handle it as she did the last time, and that'll be that.
With that simple yet comforting thought, I began to study the ruins, focusing on other details. Specifically, I was looking for Runes. And I must say, I found quite a few. However, all these Runes were not only severely damaged, but they were also, most importantly, Dead. Not a single one of them showed even the faintest signs of Life. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I meditated, no matter how much I strained my mind, I couldn't decipher their meaning. Except for three Runes whose meanings were already known to me. Movement, Victory, and Destruction. These Signs also showed no signs of Life, so they were essentially just drawings.
It's frustrating, to say the least.
Sitting down on a large stone in the center of what once was the main temple hall, I took out some food and began to eat, not tasting anything. I then drank from my flask and, approaching the Rune of Victory, tried to Revive it. Unsuccessfully. I placed my hand on the Rune of Des on the remnants of a wall and tried to pour energy into it, but this, too, yielded no results. Almost hopelessly, I approached the Rune of Movement and attempted to Revive it as well. Another failure. No response. Not the slightest.
In frustration, I stepped back a few paces and took another look around the hall. I tried to clear my mind, then climbed higher to view the ruins from a different perspective, hoping to find something. Alas, that, too, yielded nothing. Eventually, I shrugged, realizing I had nothing left to do here, picked up my backpack and slung it over my shoulder. After all, I'm not Arien, and the local riddles are beyond me. It's disappointing and frustrating, but it's the truth. And I had to accept that truth. Otherwise, I could become obsessed, dig in my heels, and spend weeks searching only to find nothing and waste precious time.
I made one last turn, looking around, and then dropped my backpack again.
How did I miss it before? I must have overthought things. All I needed was to relax to see... Two of the Runes I recognized took logical positions in the remains of the frescoes. They fit the pattern. But the third - Movement - was clearly out of place. It was depicted on the top of something that looked like an ordinary drawn stump and didn't match the surrounding environment. It was just wrong. Painfully obvious.
I approached the Rune, touched it, and tried to Revive it again. Another failure. But I didn't give up. Piercing my finger to draw blood, I traced the old Rune with a new Design and infused it with my power.
It worked!
A small block, the size of three bricks and bearing the old Rune, began to move, revealing a hidden compartment. Defying the fact that I had checked the wall here and found no cavities even while straining my Perception Aura to the limit. Those who made this hideaway had ensured it wasn't easily found. And opening it, without the skill to Read Runes, was probably impossible. Behind the moved block, in a small cavity, I found a set of ritualistic dishes.
"Is that it?!" My disappointment was immeasurable.
Several plates and goblets, made not of gold or even silver but seemingly of thin steel. Maybe they were once powered by strong magic, but over the centuries, it had faded, disappeared without a trace...
Even if I bring this set, which in total weighed about one and a half kilograms, to the True Temple, the priests would simply shrug and, disregarding the possible former sanctity of these relics, melt them down. Which, incidentally, would be practical. Annoyed, I flicked one of the goblets with my nail, and it emitted a sound atypical for regular steel.
Could it be?!
I flicked it again, this time tuning in with all my attention.
Exactly! I wasn't mistaken!
Opening my pack, I stashed the find inside. Then, after placing the block back in its spot and erasing the Rune I'd drawn, I slung the backpack over my shoulder. I left the ancient ruins with a mischievous smile on my face. It's not every day that you stumble upon one and a half kilograms of pure Avalonium!
[1] TLN: The North-West side of the Caspian Sea.
[2] AN: Mensa is the world's largest and oldest high-IQ society. It's a non-profit organization open to people who score in the top 2% on a standardized, supervised IQ or other approved intelligence test. By the way, the author of this text has also been a member since 1998 (excuse this slight bragging, but it's important as it shows I'm not trying to describe a character smarter than me).