"Sir Om Raven!" As soon as I crossed the threshold of the Artifactors' Guild branch, Itran rose from behind the table and hurried toward me.

"Good morning," I greeted the Guild worker and sat down on the offered chair. "You're working again today? Haven't they relieved you yet?"

"Yes… That cursed Shaym sent a note that he's off to the Temple of Elai to cure his scabies." Itran practically spat out the last word, then added, shaking his head in sorrow. "No rest for me for another week."

I didn't bother convincing him otherwise; instead, I "understandingly" smiled:

"I won't trouble you much."

"Always at your service, Sir Om Raven." The Guild worker straightened up immediately and pulled a note sheet closer.

"I'd like access to my personal vault, nothing more." Without beating around the bush, I stated the reason for my visit to this branch of the Artifactors' Guild.

Ten minutes of various formalities and necessary checks later, I was standing alone in the underground storage of the branch, facing the cabinet I had rented. According to Itran, I had fifteen minutes, which would be more than enough.

Opening the weapon cabinet, I took out a long bundle. I carefully placed it on the table in the center of the storage room and unwrapped the cloth. My fingertips lightly touched the ancient steel, and I immediately felt the demanding vibration of the cursed blade.

"You may speak," my lips whispered soundlessly.

"Did you find Max?!!" A restless voice of Boundless Pride immediately roared in my head.

Good thing only I could hear it, or the plaster would have crumbled from the ceiling, and the decorative tiles on the walls would have cracked from such a shout.

"Are you out of your mind?" I mentally shouted back just as "loudly." "When would I have had the time to find your precious Max? But I did find Katashi, want me to hand you over to him?"

"Then why'd you show up and wake me?" The ancient sword instantly calmed down, and an image of a yawn formed in my mind, so contagious that I barely resisted yawning myself.

"Got something for you."

"A fight?" The sword perked up, and a blood-red gleam ran along its blade.

"No."

"Then I'm not interested." The disappointment radiating from Boundless Pride could practically be scooped out with a spoon.

"Aren't you bored?"

"I can just go back to sleep," the ancient sword responded with feigned indifference.

"Don't lie - you can't sleep." I struck where it hurt.

"But I've learned to enter a state of 'non-thinking'," Pride waved off my argument.

I didn't know if it was lying or not and what this state of "non-thinking" was; maybe it had just made it up to tease me.

Maybe I came at the wrong time, or perhaps there was some other reason, but today, the ancient sword was clearly in a foul mood. As soon as I touched its blade, I immediately sensed a resonating, all-encompassing irritation and something vaguely resembling extreme fatigue. In fact, I could have avoided coming here today and not visited Boundless Pride. I wouldn't mind not seeing it for another century! This sword's personality truly annoyed me. But curiosity, which this particular blade could satisfy more quickly than anything else, still pushed me to deviate from my straight path and visit this branch of the Artifactors' Guild once again.

Choosing not to argue further with Boundless Pride - I knew it could go on indefinitely, and the only one who would enjoy such a process would be the cursed sword - I pulled a bundle from my belt, unwrapped it, and placed the "defective" tanto, purchased from Katashi for two mithril coins, directly on Pride's steel.

"Hey!" the ancient sword immediately protested. "Get that scrap metal away from me!" It even heated up in indignation, causing the air above it to tremble. "Move it, I said, or I'll chop your hands off right up to your neck!"

Too bad it didn't work. But one must know how to admit defeat. Not that I was afraid of Pride's threats... It wouldn't do anything to me as long as it hoped I would help it find its "beloved" Max. But it was still unwise to provoke such a powerful artifact unnecessarily. It's like jumping on an anti-tank mine - technically safe, but something you'd rather avoid. However, the moment I touched the tanto again, the voice of the ancient sword in my mind suddenly changed its tone:

"Wa-it... Leave it... What do we have here?" The voice of Boundless Pride turned into a clucking, mother-hen-like sound. "And what do we have here that's so 'tiny'? What's here that's so 'innocent'? Hmm..." Suddenly, the tone of the cursed sword shifted again, becoming calmer. "A Blank One... Which may or may not become..."

"Care to explain?" I tried to interject into Pride's stream of prattle subtly.

"You don't know what or who you brought me?" The ancient sword snorted in disbelief.

"I have some guesses, but nothing more." And even those guesses were quite weak, but I preferred not to mention that.

"Firstborn..." The voice of Boundless Pride resembled a whisper of the wind in a dry desert.

"Explain." My voice came out as a rasp, my throat suddenly dry.

"Don't try to appear dumber than you are," the ancient sword chuckled. "Just a little more, and you'll cross the line of reason. Ir-re-ver-si-bly." If it had teeth, it would be grinning now, "looking" me in the eye. "You do know who forged it."

"I do." Even though the question was rhetorical, I preferred to answer.

"Then what's so unclear to you, coward fleeing from your fate?"

"Is struggling really the same as fleeing?" I snapped back because its words hit a nerve just now.

"But are you struggling?" A genuine, mischievous laugh echoed in my head. "Even a frog flailing in a pot of warming water looks more like a struggle than your feeble attempts."

"I'm not giving up."

Arguing with this hunk of metal was a waste of time, so I shrugged and steered the conversation back to the topic that interested me:

"I have a rough idea why you call this blade the Firstborn, but I'd like to know more."

"And I'd like to finally taste the thrill of battle," the ancient sword replied, mimicking my tone.

"Alright, I get that coming here was a mistake." Sighing heavily, I reached for the tanto. "I'll leave this blade with you so you won't get too bored. And when Katashi ascends the Divino Stairway, I'll come back and check."

"Wait! What do you mean you'll leave it with me?" There was clear discontent in Boundless Pride's voice.

"It means exactly what it means..." Placing the tanto on the broader ancient sword, I calmly began wrapping both blades in cloth.

"Wait! Stop! You can't do this!"

"I'm already doing it." I shrugged, not really understanding the reason for Boundless Pride's vehement protest. Was it really so irritated by the touch of another steel against its blade?

"Just stop!" The cursed sword vibrated in irritation, trying to shake off the cloth, but it achieved nothing. "Stop!! It mustn't be left here!"

"It mustn't? What mustn't, and why not? And where exactly is 'here'?" I slowed my movements, but didn't stop, asking the questions in a bored tone.

"You figured it out already." The ancient sword snapped, but seeing that I continued wrapping it, it began to speak, "Right now, it's just a piece of iron, barely distinguishable from the hundreds and thousands of such trinkets that come out of the forge hammers every day."

"So, still distinguishable." I paused demonstratively, without lowering my hands with the cloth.

"Alright, alright. We both know who forged this blunder."

"We know." I echoed.

"We both know who he can become."

"He can."

"Or maybe not." I could sense the malicious smirk in Boundless Pride's voice.

"Or maybe not, true." Who knew how things would turn out in this Cycle.

"The same goes for this piece of iron." It seemed to me that the ancient sword tried to distance itself from the foreign blade, but it failed. "Maybe yes, maybe no."

"Probability," I whispered.

"Possibility." Pride corrected me.

"You called it the Firstborn."

"And you understand why." If it were human, it would have shrugged now.

The sword was right. I understood that. I hadn't bought this tanto for such a price without a good reason! After all, it was the first thing Katashi, the future god of Labor, had forged in the new world. And now, it seemed, I had received confirmation that the money was well spent. Imagine that - the Firstborn.

"And yet, could you explain what you mean by this name?"

"It's simple." The usual irritation seeped into Pride's voice. "This is the Firstborn, the first thing that was born in the hands of the Master. It can either remain a useless piece of metal or grow into something more."

"Something more?"

"Do I look like the abbot of Aerad's library?" the ancient sword snapped.

"But you still know something." I wasn't asking, I was stating.

"The Reaper of Debts. Eyrat's Scythe," Boundless Pride responded with a "sigh."

Eyrat's Scythe? On some statues depicting the Creator of Ain, the supreme deity of the local Pantheon was indeed shown with a scythe at his belt. But I couldn't recall ever hearing anything about this item.

"People have forgotten about this weapon."

"The Reaper of Debts is the Firstborn of Dyuryin."

We-e-ell... Dyuryin was, of course, considered the greatest blacksmith in Ain, but he never ascended beyond the first Flight. True, the ancient dwarf was a great master, but Eyrat was the Creator God, not the first among equals, but essentially the Allfather of Ain. A deity who could create artifacts like Boundless Pride with a mere snap of his fingers. As far as I read, Eyrat did not use items created by other deities. His own power and skill were more than enough for him. But if we were to believe Pride's words, once, the Supreme deity broke his own rules. He did it for Dyuryin's Firstborn.

"Only, I wouldn't be so pleased if I were you," the ancient sword interrupted my thoughts. "It's not that simple."

"And the reason for this 'not that simple'?"

"Tell me, have stillborn children stopped being born in the world?"

"No, they haven't."

"Well, there's your answer. The Firstborn can either become a reflection of everything created by the Master or remain forever a piece of dead metal."

'A reflection of everything created' - I didn't fully understand the meaning of these words, but it sounded so promising that it took my breath away.

"And then there are those who are born mindless, stupid, defective..."

"I get it." It seemed to me that he was about to go on indefinitely, so I chose to shut him up.

"You don't get anything." The ancient sword's anger was so intense that it scorched my face. "Iron is not alive to begin with. And for the Firstborn to be Born, much more needs to align compared to the birth of an ordinary child."

"But you still know something about it."

"Something... Exactly something, no more." A heavy sigh. "First. It cannot be locked away or hidden somewhere. What kind of child would grow up if their childhood was spent in a closet?"

"Point taken."

It seemed I understood where he was going with this. Although, maybe he was just lying to avoid being kept in the same weapon cabinet with another blade.

"Second?"

"Second? I don't know. I'm not the Master!"

"You started talking, so finish."

"Actually, I really don't know. Talk to it, show it the world, well, you know... raise it."

"What?" Raise a sword? How?

"I never had children!" The ancient sword snapped. "How should I know!"

"But is it a child?" I touched the tanto in doubt, but felt no response.

"No, of course not. It's more like an egg."

"And you're suggesting I take up raising an egg..."

My heavy sigh could probably be heard behind the massive doors of the Artifactors' Guild vault.

"I'm not suggesting you anything!" Pride snapped back immediately. "If you want, throw it into a ditch, if you want, melt it down. What do I care?"

"Listen..." I said in a smarmy voice. "Why should I be the one to raise it? I'm a person, after all, and it's a sword. A small one, but still a sword. An iron one. Well, steel one, actually. So, I was thinking..."

"No! No! No!" Boundless Pride yelled so loudly that my brain almost splattered against the walls of my skull. "Get it away from me! What kind of father am I? Or rather, what kind of mentor?"

"But really, your candidacy seems much more reasonable and logical..."

"I'll kill you," the ancient sword solemnly promised, and I believed him, pulling my hand back.

"So, it'll grow," I quickly shifted the topic.

"Are you completely stupid?" the ancient sword sighed heavily. "It's made of steel. Where do you think it'll grow? It'll stay the same size."

"That's not what I meant. I was talking about the possibility of the Firstborn gaining consciousness."

"Of course not!" Pride seemed genuinely surprised. "It could become alive, sure. If the stars align. Conscious? Where did you get that nonsense?"

I had thought that those associations with a child locked in a closet had clearly pointed to such conclusions, but now it seemed I had misunderstood things somewhat. But arguing with such a mighty artifact as Boundless Pride - especially when it was on the verge of literally exploding with irritation and anger - was not the wisest choice.

"So, you say, show it the world. Talk to it."

"Train with it, yeah," added the cursed soul. "No, if you don't need it to Accept you, then..." If Pride were human, it would have shrugged right now.

"To show the world, talk, train," I obediently listed.

"And also..." Boundless Pride added, almost shyly. "It needs a name. You can't just call it the Firstborn... Well, you can, of course... But it's like naming your first child 'First.'"

Half-listening to the muttering, I raised the tanto onto my palm. A name? I had never been strong at naming anything or anyone. My fingers ran along the blade. I tried to feel something, to ask what Name would suit it. But in response, there was complete silence.

"Hey! You crow! Yes, yes, I'm talking to you." The voice of Boundless Pride yanked me out of my thoughts and deepest meditation. "Pack me up, they're coming soon. Wake up, you ragged bird!"

"I hear you, I hear you." I quickly wrapped the cursed soul in fabric and placed it back in the weapon cabinet.

Crow. Raven. The name I had taken in this world. And in my hands was the Firstborn, which needed a name, as its creator hadn't bothered with such a trifle.

"So, what will you name it?" As I was about to lock the door, I heard Boundless Pride's question. "You've come up with something, I can feel it."

"I have. First Feather," I whispered, touching the tanto.

"You're a true genius of imagination!" came the voice, dripping with sarcasm. "Really, couldn't you come up with something more…"

Not bothering to listen further, I locked the door. I had barely managed to close the weapon cabinet and hide the tanto in my belt when there was a knock at the vault door.

"Can I help you with anything else?" Itran inquired when we returned to the main hall, and I settled the payment for access to the branch's vault.

"Maybe just some advice." Leaving a bit extra as a tip, I replied with a smile, rising from the comfortable visitor's chair.

"I'll do what I can." The Artifactors' Guild worker beamed, quickly noticing the "extra" silver coins.

"I'd like to purchase a sheath for a dagger or a short sword."

"Are you looking to order something unusual?" Itran asked.

Unusual? Too bad I understood little about raising children, but spoiling them never seemed like a good idea, so shaking my head, I replied:

"No, just a standard sheath will do, nothing fancy, but it must be of good quality and allow for some modification to meet my requirements."

"So, quality but discreet…" Itran pondered, then provided the address of a shop and the name of a master who fit my needs.

After bidding a warm and sincere farewell to the unlucky worker of the Tunnellers' Guild, I wasted no time and headed straight to the specified address. I spoke with the sheath master, showing him the First Feather and explaining what I wanted to achieve. In the end, I didn't acquire a sheath as such, but something more akin to a case that could easily be worn on a belt. While the master was busy resizing the case to fit my needs, I bought a thin leather strap and wrapped it around the handle of the tanto so that it could be properly held in hand. No, I didn't intend to fight with this short sword, but I also couldn't forget the words of Boundless Pride that it wouldn't hurt to use the Firstborn during training.

The case turned out exactly as I had hoped. It was modest in appearance, made of cherrywood treated with a strengthening compound, with brass clasps, devoid of any decorations or, even more so, precious metals. Wearing it on my belt was also quite comfortable; it didn't get in the way or catch on anything. This allowed me to come to terms with the fact that I would now have to carry this oversized, unfinished knife with me and even talk to it. No, what definitely hadn't been part of my plans was becoming someone's mentor, let alone a nanny. But, it seemed I would have to, since the reward in case of success would make it all worthwhile. Yes, if I had understood the words of Boundless Pride correctly, the Firstborn would gain special properties only at the moment its creator attained divine powers. Nevertheless, in the Last Cycle, Katashi had succeeded, and I wanted to believe that this time he would achieve no less!

Leaving Bordum, I headed towards the nearest city with Gates at a relaxed pace. I wasn't in a hurry because I couldn't decide where I should go next.

There had been no news from Arien yet, which meant she was still on Wootz. As for me, I couldn't speed up the process or conduct the Ritual of the Halves by myself, no matter how much I wanted to. First of all, I lacked the skills and magical power. Secondly, I didn't know all the details and nuances of performing the ritual. Thirdly, if I were to attempt it, it would definitely not please the future goddess of Spontaneous Magic, and knowing her, I could assume she would mark me as her enemy. And most importantly, my overall strategy was based on helping the Shards and earthlings, not on gaining personal power, which wouldn't be of much use when meeting the Demonic Princes. So it turned out, even if I somehow managed to learn all the details of the ritual and miraculously leveled up my magical Talents, it would still have to be Arien leading the Ritual of Halves, not me.

Heading to Pentapolis at this stage also didn't make much sense. Most likely, I wouldn't even have time to reach it unless I jumped through the Gates, as Arien would summon me to Katiyer. And the further I went, the more money I'd need later for the return transitions. I could visit Clayville again and help Vidar's group, train them. But if I looked at it from the perspective of helping the earthlings and training, it would make more sense to head to Katiyer - not to irritate Arien by my presence, but to engage in advanced training of the Ainuminati members. And I could also go with Arien into a couple of dungeons, which would help her approach the First Wall faster.

The longer I thought about the possibility of temporarily joining the Ainuminati, the more advantages I found for myself. And spending a week in a quiet and peaceful place while I got used to the new armor and adapted my combat style to the heavier gear, to put it mildly, wouldn't be superfluous.

The only thing that stopped me from fully committing to this option was the matter of Katasakh. I was entirely certain that without his tip-off, they wouldn't have been able to rob me. Moreover, Phoenix Shaym's words clearly indicated that he knew exactly what to steal and from whom, which meant that someone had pointed him in the right direction. And aside from Katasakh, no one else knew about the artifact bracelet I had. So, it turned out that there could only be one person who tipped them off.

But despite all my confidence, this was still circumstantial evidence. And if this matter went to the Guild Court, it would have been my word against his. Yes, due to my status as the Sheriff of the Book, I could have pushed through the decision I needed. But Katasakh was held in high regard among the tunnellers, and if my word was the only thing I had, unsupported by other evidence, such a trial could have stirred up unnecessary gossip. Besides, it was necessary to keep Katasakh's connection to the Thieves' Guild undisclosed, as I would have had to explain how I came to know that detail. And revealing my agreements with the Master of Shadows, who dreamt of becoming a priest of Seguna, was certainly not in my interest. So, a Guild Court trial for Katasakh was not the best choice. But I did not intend to forget such a betrayal of his. No, as a person, I could understand his motivation. The dark curse and premature aging would have broken anyone. And if even the slightest chance to get rid of the "extra years" appeared, one had to seize it with both hands. Apparently, Katasakh hoped that if he helped in acquiring an Altar of Shadow, it would "count in his favor," and the Mistress of the Night Cool would lift the dark curse from him. But understanding someone else's motives does not mean accepting them. No matter what words were used to soften it, the fact remained unchanged - Katasakh had tipped off the thief about me. And he had not even tried to negotiate with me, even though I had helped his village and his group by clearing Bogash's Tomb of dark artifacts. It was clear that my status as a Guild Sheriff had scared him off, but still, that did not justify him. And the fact that I had come out of this story with a profit did not cancel out the betrayal, and I very much disliked being "stabbed in the back."

But what options did I have? The ideal choice would have been the Guild Court if I had more direct evidence. Yes, I could proceed without it; my word as the Sheriff of the Book, backed by my Affinity with the Light, would have been enough. But Katasakh was a respected tunneller, and many trusted him, so rumors would start circulating that the one chosen to be the Sheriff of the Book turned out to be unable to gather substantial evidence of the accused's guilt. On one hand, I could care less about such things, but on the other, who knew what consequences it might bring later.

The second option was to take revenge for the betrayal myself, without involving the Guild. Fortunately, I was quite familiar with such a path. I had no doubt that I was capable of killing the tunneller unnoticed, and do so in such a way that no one would ever connect his death to me. But, honestly, I wasn't ready to kill Katasakh for what he had done. If he had tipped someone off to steal Striking Whisper, then I wouldn't have had any questions; I would have strangled the bastard without the slightest pang of conscience. But now, I thought that killing him for what he did seemed somewhat excessively radical.

So, how could I make him answer for what he had done? Burn down Kataskh's house? That was like saying, "Oh, you did that? Fine, then I'll just crap in your pot." And anyway, what was the most important thing in revenge? Apart from, of course, the act itself. It was to ensure that whatever had driven you to seek revenge didn't happen again, ideally not just to you personally, but to no one else either. Which meant that the minimum goal in the matter of Kataskh was to have him removed from his position as the head of the local tunnellers' group. It would have been even better to arrange for his "retirement" altogether. Yes, this would temporarily weaken the Silver Meadow group, but with the removal of dark artifacts from Bogash's Tomb, this weakening didn't seem critical. And, if needed, the guys could always call for Patrick, the young sheriff, for help; he surely wouldn't have refused.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

But how could one achieve such a result? It was simple! I needed to present Katasakh with a choice: either he did as I said, or he faced a summons to the Guild Court. I believed the old man was experienced enough to understand that he had nothing to counter the word of the Sheriff of the Book, especially when it was backed by Affinity with Light. And if it came to court, he would lose far more than if he just "retired." However, changing direction right away and heading to Silver Meadow was not the best option. It was quite possible that the head thief had already warned Katasakh, and he might temporarily leave his village. It would have been much better to make it appear as though I had left the Rur region, and then, after the Ritual of the Halves, pay Katasakh a visit when he wasn't expecting it. From these thoughts, especially when I imagined the old man's expression upon seeing me, a smile of anticipation appeared on my face.

Having settled on my immediate plans, I walked along the road more freely. After all, even such a small uncertainty had weighed on me, clouding my thoughts, and now that it had lifted, even the weight of the new armor no longer pressed so heavily on my shoulders.

The familiar town I entered before the sun had passed its zenith. I passed by the guards at the gate, showing the sign of the guild sheriff. I could have paid, I wouldn't have gone poor because of a few copper coins, but if I could pass through for free by using my status, why not take advantage of it?

Initially, I had planned to go straight to the Temple of Sundbad, but during my short journey, I noticed that the helmet's mounting in its travel position was slightly inconvenient. According to Katashi's design, the morion was supposed to be attached to the lower part of the backpack, like a soldier's mess tin, and this was convenient in its own way. But as I walked, I realized that the helmet was not held very securely in this mount and occasionally struck against my belt. It wasn't anything critical, just a minor annoyance. Nevertheless, it was somewhat bothersome. I could have tied the morion more securely myself using a makeshift method, but I decided not to settle for half measures.

Entering the city, I inquired with the guards and headed to a leather workshop. I spoke with the master, who, immediately understanding my problem, offered a solution - adding another strap to secure the morion more reliably. I readily agreed to this modification, as half an hour wouldn't make much difference. While the master was busy with the work, he became very interested in my unusual-for-Ain backpack. I gave him the rundown on hows and whys, and he shared several useful tips for improving it. The advice indeed seemed helpful, and for a couple of silver coins, the master-leatherworker slightly adjusted the straps. In the end, I stayed there a little over an hour, without any regrets about the time spent.

When I left the workshop, I felt hungry, but since I had to use Sundbad's Gates, I decided that crossing them on an empty stomach would be easier, and I could eat later in Beziu. With a calm and confident stride, I crossed the central city square and ascended the steps of the Temple. Today, the queue at the Gates was short. Only four people stood before me, waiting for the priests to open the Road for them. I could, of course, use my status as the Sheriff of the Book and skip the line, but I decided to wait like everyone else. I was in no hurry today, and irritating the "respectable people" - since only they used the Gates, a rather expensive pleasure - seemed unnecessary. Besides, I wanted to exchange a few words with the Temple's head priest, whom I already knew. However, to my slight disappointment, today it was his chief assistant on duty, not the priest himself, so the conversation didn't happen.

The line moved forward slowly but steadily, with the acolytes busily attuning the Gates according to the travelers' requests. Meanwhile, I was lost in my own thoughts. More specifically, I was thinking about the upcoming meeting with Arien and how I should behave around her. Yes, the infatuation that the former "me" had for this girl no longer weighed so heavily on my mind, but even now, I still felt a certain attraction to the future goddess of Elemental Magic. Besides, it had been a long time since I'd had a woman, and as soon as I thought of Arien, thoughts of a particular nature persistently filled my head. The only consolation was that I felt strong enough to resist these thoughts and desires.

Only one richly dressed merchant remained ahead of me in line, with all the acolytes fawning over him, while I still kept trying to calm my thoughts with shallow meditation.

"Honorable Om Rofus," the first assistant to the head priest approached the merchant standing before me and bowed deeply. "It has been a long time since we've seen you. Do your trade affairs require your personal presence far from our city?"

"To my regret, honorable Om Tanshek," the merchant bowed back slowly and gracefully, "what you said is indeed the case, and sometimes matters require personal presence. Not even the most trusted assistants can resolve everything. But, to my greatest relief, the honorable Om Raven Alexandrite, Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild, has offered to accompany me, so I hope my journey will be an easy one."

After uttering that phrase, the merchant turned to me and smiled quite sincerely. The surprise nearly made me hiccup and take a step back. I quickly checked the merchant's rank – Ruby Step. Rofus's face was completely unfamiliar to me, but such coincidences didn't happen. And what was I supposed to do now? Was I to claim that it was the first time I'd heard about having to accompany someone? It was unlikely that the head of the Thieves' Guild - and it was undoubtedly him in his "civil guise" as a respected merchant - would attack me right here in the Temple. However, it didn't seem like the most prudent move to say that I'd never heard of an offer from a certain Om Rofus. If the head of the Thieves' Guild had wanted to get rid of me, he would have done it much more quietly and discreetly, and he certainly wouldn't have risked exposing his merchant cover. It seemed that he needed me for something, given that he had decided to play out such a scheme. And he'd even gone to the trouble of tracking me down and setting everything up so that we would "accidentally" meet right at the Gates.

The silence dragged on, so I decided to play along with the Master of Shadows. Taking half a step forward, I gave a formal bow:

"Honorable Om Tanshek, Om Rofus indeed persuaded me to accompany him. Although, to be honest, I don't think that such a respected person needs protection from a sheriff of the Wootz Step."

"To which point should I tune the Road?" Upon hearing my response, the priest of Sundbad immediately inquired.

"To Olodant," the "merchant" replied shortly. "And I will, of course, cover Om Raven's Transition."

Olodant? I've never been to that town, but if memory served, it was close to the ruined Belgran. As soon as I remembered this, the puzzle in my head came together. It was obvious that the head of the Thieves' Guild in the Rur region had decided to verify my claims about the forgotten Altar of Seguna. And since people like him had long stopped trusting anyone's word, he arranged everything so that I would be nearby on this journey. In case my words turned out to be false, he could personally twist my head off. But since there was no deceit in my plans, such a maneuver by the Master of Shadows posed no threat to me. On the contrary, during our joint journey, there would be an opportunity to bargain something useful for myself. So, I went through all the necessary pre-Transition procedures with the most independent and calm demeanor I could muster. The only thing that made me a bit nervous was how the energy scales would react to the Night Huntress Bracelet. But, to my relief, the bracelet apparently registered as just a piece of metal, weighing nothing in a magical sense. Obeying the inviting gesture of the one who introduced himself as Om Rofus, I was the first to pass through the Gates.

Olodant greeted us with the usual bustle of a trading city situated at the crossroads of several routes. As soon as we signed the Arrival book, the priests of Sundbad, overwhelmed by their workload, asked us to leave the entrance platform.

Having paid the required dues for both of us, "Om Rofus" nodded to me and, with the measured gait of a wealthy man, left the Temple and crossed the central square. His behavior made it clear that this was not his first visit to the city. Following him, I exited to the trading rows, which the pseudo-merchant passed through like a knife through butter, ignoring the inviting calls of numerous hawkers. After a couple of turns, we entered an inn that appeared costly even at a glance. "Om Rofus," without bargaining, paid for the priciest room, and we ascended to the third floor.

As soon as the doors of the room closed behind us, the head of the Thieves' Guild placed a finger to his lips, cast Shadow Cloak over us, and, stepping towards an unremarkable wardrobe, did something, causing it to silently slide aside. Behind the hidden door was a narrow concealed passage that, by the looks of it, led us to a building adjacent to the inn. As soon as we found ourselves in a room resembling a storage warehouse, the Master of Shadows slipped into an inconspicuous door, holding it open for me. Behind the door was a small room, no more than six square meters, with two massive chests standing against the walls.

Wasting no time on explanations, "Om Rofus" discarded his rich garments and changed into fairly decent armor, which he retrieved from one of the chests. He belted on a scabbard with a wootz sword, checked the fit of the armor, tightened the straps, and, throwing an oversized cloak over his shoulders, tossed an identical one to me, making sure I put it on. Afterward, he looked me over, nodded in satisfaction, and led us out onto a narrow, deserted alley.

Not even forty minutes had passed since we had passed through the Gates when two unremarkable free mercenaries left Olodant - instead of a wealthy merchant accompanied by the guild sheriff.

The only thing that puzzled me was that we left the city through the northern gate, while the ruins of Belgarn, as far as I remembered, were to the south. But once we had walked five kilometers from Olodant, the head of the Thieves' Guild turned into the forest and sharply changed the direction of our movement.

During all this time, the Master of Shadows didn't say a word to me. It seemed as if he wasn't even checking whether I was following him or not, apparently fully confident that I wouldn't stray away from him. And it had to be noted, there was a certain logic in his confidence. No matter how strong of a fighter I was for my Rank, against a warrior-mage of the Ruby Step, I didn't stand a chance. However, I was convinced that I wasn't in any real danger, as he had seen my Achievement and likely didn't want to face a Mithril Plague Zombie of Nulgle. I was even somewhat curious about how this would all turn out. The only thing that slightly bothered me in this entire situation was the perpetual silence of my "companion." I had hoped to ask a few questions along the way, learn a couple of interesting things, but apparently, it wasn't meant to be.

Skirting around Olodant in a wide arc, we abruptly picked up speed, transitioning into a rather fast run. "Om Rofus" was running at such a pace that even I found it challenging to keep up with the rhythm he set. So when, about an hour before sunset, we reached the outskirts of Belgran, I was barely dragging my feet from exhaustion and breathing heavily, as if I had just unloaded a couple of coal wagons.

After stopping by the bank of a fast-moving stream, the head of the Thieves' Guild gathered some brushwood and, using domestic magic, lit a fire. He gestured for me to sit on one of the stones by the fire and took out a simple traveling dinner from his satchel. He handed me some bread and cheese and then took a large bite of dried meat himself. This invitation to share a meal could be interpreted as a sign of peaceful intentions and that he meant me no harm. However, from the way he unmistakably placed the sheathed sword on his lap and gave a meaningful glance toward the hill where the ruins of the ancient city lay, it was clear that if I had deceived him about the Altar, nothing good awaited me. Calmly accepting the food from his hands, I cautiously sniffed it before starting the meal. This didn't go unnoticed, eliciting a knowing smile from the Master of Shadows.

"The one marked by Antares, blessed by the Mistress of Midnight Monsters, bearing the symbol of Ishid, cursed by the Lord of Plague, a guest from an unknown island that sank into the depths of the sea," the head of the Thieves' Guild addressed me for the first time that day, "of course, poisoning such a person is quite an interesting challenge." His smile made my throat go dry. "But not for me." The Master of Shadows' sheath returned to his belt. "I am no longer a boy dreaming of challenging the gods. My desires are more grounded."

I tilted my head, inviting him with the gesture to speak about his desires, but the Ruby warrior-mage demonstratively ignored my invitation and did not continue the topic he had raised. Instead, he stretched, extending his legs toward the fire, lifted his head to the sky, and said:

"The night promises to be cloudy."

"It does," I echoed, feeling my senses returning.

"We'll depart when our Mistress rises in her full glory." If I understood him correctly, that would be around midnight. "While we wait, would you entertain an old man with tales of your adventures, Sheriff?" In fact, he wasn't that old, just over forty, no more.

"Why not entertain a good person?" I smiled peacefully and continued. "Like many others of my people, some questers transported us from our world, which we call Earth..."

The Master of Shadows' eyes immediately clouded over, and he shook his head, rubbing his temples with his palms.

"Alright, alright..." The head of the Rur Thieves' Guild stopped me with a strained smile. "I get it. We'll sit in silence."

"No need to be silent," I said innocently, tilting my head. "I would be interested to hear about your life's journey."

The Master of Shadows looked at me as if surprised by such audacity, chuckled quietly, folded his cloak as a pillow, and within five seconds, peacefully dozed off. What a sly fox. And I had so hoped to learn something interesting.

After having a hearty meal - it was clear that if he had wanted to poison me, I would have been long poisoned by now - I didn't disturb the warrior-mage of Ruby and immersed myself in meditation. Until midnight, I glided my inner gaze over my Core, drove waves of energy through the inner channels, practiced twisting the flows of mana and prana at different angular speeds and in various proportions. Such serene, truly meditative training was also useful to devote time to sometimes.

I was brought out of my self-immersion by the calm voice of the Master of Shadows:

"Sheriff..." As I exited my meditation, I focused my gaze on the interlocutor. "I would like to buy the life of Katasakh from you."

Oh, wow! But why would he... Ah... I see! Of course, the head of the Thieves' Guild would be interested in the uncle of the local sheriff, who had quite a significant influence on this sheriff. The Master of Shadows clearly didn't want to lose such a valuable human resource.

"As you must understand, I am a sheriff, and this Sign," my finger tapped twice on the Symbol of the Guild sheriff, "imposes certain obligations on me."

"I understand." The one sitting opposite now looked very much like a seasoned merchant who was about to make a deal he needed.

"Katasakh's actions, whatever intentions may have driven him, cannot go unanswered." After waiting for the Master of Shadows to nod in understanding, I continued, "He will leave the Guild; how he does it is not important to me. He may say that the curse of aging is pressing on him, and he no longer feels confident in holding the bow. His official excuses don't concern me. Besides this, he will stop going on dungeon clearings and will hand over the position of squad leader to Dragan." This tunneller seemed to me the calmest and most reasonable of the Silver Meadow group.

"Acceptable." The Master of Shadows relaxed.

"This concerns the mandatory requirements." My smile clearly made my companion tense. "The matter remains that it was I who ended up as the victim of Katasakh's intrigues in his attempts to lift the curse of aging. And I do not intend to forget that just like that."

"And what exactly do you want as a fitting compensation?" He didn't reach for his sword, indicating that I hadn't crossed the line yet.

"A favor." I nodded, beginning to smother the fire with sand.

"A favor?" Master of Shadows repeated.

"Yes, from your guild."

"And of what kind?"

"You're aware of where I spent my time after our first meeting, aren't you?"

"Yes," my companion answered curtly.

"I would be satisfied if your guild provided discreet support to a young blacksmith named Kay. Give him a few broken artifacts to try and repair. Simple, ordinary ones, and it would be even better if these artifacts had nothing to do with the Night Mistress."

"And this should be done under the guise of a simple commission for a promising young craftsman who charges slightly less than his neighbors," clarified the head of the Thieves' Guild.

"That's the first thing," I wasn't about to stop.

"It seems, Sheriff, that you've chosen the wrong path," Master of Shadows smirked. "You would be priceless in the market stalls."

"So, the second thing," I ignored his remark, "when the Altar accepts you..."

"If," my companion corrected me.

"When," I brushed off his objection, "the Altar accepts you, I need access to the Awakened Altar."

"How could I stand between the Altar and a brother in the Shadows?" The head of the Thieves' Guild smiled tensely, accepting my demand.

When I extinguished the fire, the Master of Shadows used a couple of spells to ensure that no one would ever notice that someone had camped at this spot.

This time, it was I who led the way, with my imposed companion following me closely. I didn't think the warrior-mage of Ruby was wary of any trickery on my part; rather, he was acting out of habit, preferring to control the situation himself.

The ruins of Belgran greeted us with silence and the surprised faces of ground squirrels peeking out of their burrows, examining with confusion and caution the strange two-legged creatures whom they seemed to have never seen in these parts. I moved like an experienced scout, though I felt no threat. The ancient city appeared to be asleep, not even thinking of waking up, disturbed by the pair of nocturnal wanderers walking its rubble-filled streets. The ruins of the ancient Temple were still no different from any other ruins. And without knowing what to look for, a random traveler would never find the secret hidden within them.

With a gesture, I asked the Master of Shadows not to interfere and to stay aside while I carefully and cautiously began to clear the debris. Almost immediately, I realized that something had changed since my last visit.

Someone had been here before us! Glancing at the chief thief of the Rur region, I noticed that he was calm, which likely meant these were his people. But when I removed the first layer of rubble, I realized I was mistaken, as I sensed a renewed Seal of Light. Throwing another glance at the warrior-mage of Ruby, I whispered quietly:

"There were adepts of Light here."

"I know," he calmly replied to my words.

As soon as I heard this, I immediately understood why he needed me on this journey. He probably learned that the paladins had renewed the Seal over the Altar. And since neither he nor possibly any of his people were capable of discreetly removing the magic of Light without raising the alarm, he brought me along.

Of course, the mage of Ruby had enough power to break the protective spell, but that would immediately attract the attention of the warriors of Light, which clearly wasn't part of the Master of Shadows' plan. It turned out he needed me not as a guide, but as a lockpick.

Reaching for the Light within my Core, I deactivated the seal. With some effort, I pushed the massive chunks of the stone slab to the side, revealing the dark stone of the Altar. Then, without making any unnecessary movements, I stood up and stepped aside, clearing the path.

I had to admit, controlling emotions was something the warrior-mage of the Ruby coil knew well. Not a single muscle twitched on his face. He lifted his head to the sky, calmly waited for Seguna to appear through a gap in the clouds, and knelt down.

I became curious about how he planned to move the massive weight of the Altar from this place. Judging by the size of the stone, at least a cargo helicopter would be needed, not just the strength of a couple of very strong people.

But everything turned out to be much simpler and, as they say, more "magical." After a few minutes of the Master of Shadows' prayer, the Altar quickly shrank, losing size. A few breaths later, he held a small sphere of concentrated Shadow. The head of the Rur Thieves' Guild - or rather, the new true priest of Seguna - stood up, his eyes taking on the darkness of the night. His aura changed rapidly, but he quickly composed himself, and within moments, the same man stood before me.

With a wave of my hand, I asked him to step aside, after which I returned the stone slab to its place and once again infused the Seal of Light with energy. Then I piled stones on top, burying any signs that someone had been here and dug something up.

When I finished, the newly appointed priest of the Night Mistress knelt down, placed the Shadow sphere right in the road dust, took a step to the side, and demonstratively turned away. I didn't need a second invitation and, squatting next to it, touched the sphere of True Shadow with my fingers.

'I have completed the task,' I sent a mental impulse. 'The priest for the Altar has been found.'

Immediately, a wave of fresh wind enveloped me, granting new strength, dispersing even the most deep-seated fatigue, and calming my thoughts. Before I could ask for anything as a reward, I felt a mental touch at the top of my head. In the same instant, I realized that I had learned a new spell.

"Blade of the Midnight Wind." It allowed me to imbue my weapon with the power of Shadow, making it much more effective at breaking through elemental shields. More precisely, not breaking but cleverly circumventing them, as if my weapon could sense the slightest flaws in the opponent's defensive magic. In the Last Cycle, I had desperately wanted to learn this spell, but I failed. And now, it had been granted to me. Far from the most powerful magic that the Mistress of Monsters could bestow upon her follower, but undoubtedly very useful.

Before I could thank Seguna's Echo for the gift received, the sphere of concentrated Shadow slipped from beneath my fingers on its own and rolled toward the feet of its new Priest. "Om Rofus" picked it up as if it were a mere coin and pressed it to his chest. The Shadow flickered and, seeping through the armor and clothing, dissolved into the body of the Ruby warrior-mage.

"Our paths diverge here, Sheriff," the Priest of Shadow said in a voice that wasn't his own. "Your way lies in that direction." His hand gestured toward Olodant.

The Ruby warrior-mage remained in place. Most likely, he had received some task of his own from the Altar and had no intention of enlightening me about it.

Bowing, I silently took my leave and headed in the indicated direction, feeling the heavy gaze of the Priest of Shadow on me for a long time...