Having tried to change my body position once, I almost passed out from the pain that shot through my spine. Apparently, Scully wasn't lying when she said she tied me up for my own good. Because of the cheap potions the huntress had dosed me with to the brim, my mind felt foggy. During my conversation with Scully, I managed to keep myself in a relatively sane state, but as soon as she left the Crossroads and disappeared, my last mental strength left me. Closing my eyes and remembering the huntress's words that I should get some sleep, I allowed the fatigue and potions to take over. Unlike Scully, I didn't feel any danger or that I was an unwelcome guest here, so, without even trying to leave the fragment of the First Road, I fell asleep right where I lay.
Waking up with the first rays of the sun filtering through the dense foliage, I shook my head, then wiggled my fingers and toes. I listened to my sensations and dared to change my body position. To my relief, the alchemy poured into me had done its job - it was painful to move, but within tolerable limits for my body.
Without making any sudden movements, I slowly sat up and examined the wound Ridan had inflicted. The skin had already healed, and where the foreign sword had pierced me, there was now a fairly neat star-shaped scar. This distinctive form was apparently due to the fact that the dwarven-forged blade had twisted in the wound during the fall.
I had to admit, without the timely help I had received, I wouldn't have survived. Even if Ridan had not finished me off and had simply left me on those rocks.
Turning to the body of the five-time champion of the Deytran Arena, I pondered how unpredictable the turns of fate can be. What incredible alignment of events it must have taken for this to happen!
Ridan, who had found a way to lift his family curse, as far as I understood, was supposed to guard Sundbad's Crossroads for five days from some threat - and here I appeared almost at the end of that period. But why did the Arena champion see me as the threat he needed to eliminate? Perhaps it was due to the vagueness of his task? He mentioned something about having to kill anyone who appeared at the Crossroads during that time. But I was certainly no threat to this legendary place. I had no plans to destroy or even damage these ancient stones. Nevertheless, Ridan, ignoring any possibility of negotiation, attacked without the slightest hesitation. Apparently, the one who assigned him the task did not account for such a largely unexpected guest like me... So many questions, and I might never find the answers.
And yet, what was it? Coincidence or the will of the Echo of the God of Roads? The second option could not be ruled out. During my journey, I often introduced myself as a traveler following the Path of Sundbad. It was quite possible that these words, repeated many times, had attracted the attention of the Echo of the God of Roads to me! But even if that was the case, it was still unclear why the Echo needed to make me cross paths with Ridan. I could understand if my not-quite-honest words about following His Path had angered Sundbad, and thus He had decided to punish me. But this assumption fell apart due to the fact that He had allowed Scully to come to my aid. I was sure the Echo's power would have been enough to block the way to the place blessed by Him, and I would have died. But that didn't happen.
It felt like I had stumbled, perhaps accidentally, into some web of intrigue, but I only saw a small part of it and, therefore, couldn't piece the whole puzzle together.
After rummaging through my first aid kit, I took out two potions: a General Healing potion and one that alleviated pain, and drank both in small sips. Then I looked in the direction the huntress had gone. Unlike Ridan, things were more or less clear with her. At least I understood her motives. Even the fact that she changed her mind and saved me fit into a certain logic. For Scully, the main thing was not to kill me, but to eliminate the threat of possible revenge for leaving me to what she thought was certain death at the hands of the Sidhe. By killing Ridan, the huntress repaid her life debt to me. And when I confirmed that I agreed with this "one to one," she spared me, though she could have easily finished me off. This, by the way, indirectly confirmed Scully's words that she had certain moral principles that she preferred to follow whenever possible. The huntress spent such a valuable artifact as Katkar's arrow to save me, and just this fact alone said a lot!
By the way, about the arrow! Glancing over the corpse and the entire Crossroads, I found neither remnants of the arrowhead, nor the shaft, nor even the fletching of this Dark weapon. Only a black mark, like soot, covered part of the yellow stones near Ridan's head. Most likely, this arrow was a one-time artifact that self-destructed after use. And that was for the best, since being near something so infused with Darkness and the thirst for killing would definitely be detrimental to my health.
How did Scully even come up with the idea to take such an arrow from the spider's lair? With her intuition, she couldn't have failed to sense the threat emanating from the artifact. Nevertheless, she took it and even made sure to protect herself from the dark emanations.
Touching the roll of dense greenish fabric left by the huntress, I involuntarily smiled bitterly. One must have the luck of a Shard to get this magical material so cheaply. As far as I remembered, for a much smaller piece of such fabric, or something similar, the branch of the Artifactors' Guild in Bordum demanded a much larger sum from me.
Another burst of pain interrupted my thoughts, forcing me to dive into a healing meditation. Shifting my focus through my body, I applied Lesser Healing to the areas causing the most discomfort. I spent more than two hours in this healing process, and then, emerging from the depths of meditation, I drank another Healing potion. I listened to my body and decided to try standing up. Apparently, I had done everything right because I managed to do it. Yes, it was painful and unpleasant, but now I could move.
The first thing I did was check my belongings. Scully hadn't deceived me and hadn't taken anything. Yes, she inspected all my bags and backpack, but she left everything in place, untouched. This fact could probably be interpreted as her no longer considering me a threat and believing in the truce between us. And that was for the best. After the conversation with the huntress, I became convinced that she could be far more beneficial than harmful. Besides, now I saw her from a different perspective. Scully ceased to be a function, a mere cog in my strategy, and gained humanity, standing alongside Arien, Katashi, Nate, and Dice. I now had no doubt that she was indeed a Shard.
Moving as slowly as possible, I approached Ridan's body and knelt beside it. The face of the multiple-time champion of the Deytran Arena was now just a torn wound. Probably, no one would now be able to recognize Ridan the Honest Sword in this dead man.
"So, was it worth it?" I quietly asked the dead man, fully aware that he could not answer me.
What an absurd series of coincidences had led to this meeting! But were they really coincidences? A sudden realization made me feel like a small pawn in someone else's hands and brought a sad smile to my face. It seemed I understood what might have happened. Most likely, Ridan had truly found a way to rid himself of the clan curse. But Sundbad, apparently, did not wish to forgive him. Could the god of Roads have woven all Paths so that it was I who ended up at the Crossroads, followed by the huntress with Katkar's arrow in her quiver, and thus, instead of forgiveness for his clan, Ridan achieved his demise? Such a series of coincidences seemed impossible, but not for Sundbad. This deity could indeed have intertwined our Roads, causing everything to end this way. Moreover, everything had happened in this place, blessed by the god of Paths himself, where His power was still quite palpable even after two thousand years since the Fall. These thoughts of mine - nothing more than guesses, and I didn't know how accurate they were. But they formed a rather coherent picture that didn't contradict my knowledge of Ain.
"Fate is not so easily deceived," I said again to the dead man for some reason. "But at least you tried. My respect."
Having finished speaking, I realized that Ridan needed to be buried, and under no circumstances should his body be left lying on these stones. As soon as I thought about it, I felt a light mental touch, which my artifact of Mind Protection did not react to at all.
A new Achievement fell onto my Core like a heavy Ruby drop: "Road of Purity."
Mentally, I looked into the Record and realized that despite the Ruby color, it gave very little. "On your road, you will encounter fewer stones, snags, and other obstacles." A trifle, of course, but if I ended up running from some threat, this seemingly insignificant Achievement might save my life.
Speaking of Achievements!
Settling in comfortably, I plunged back into meditation, this time contemplative. Just as I thought, all the adventures I had over the past day granted me three new Records, in addition to the "Road of Purity."
The first one: "The One Who Walked the Edge." A peculiar reward for surviving a mortal wound. The Record was Opal-colored. It granted a chance to avoid a fatal injury. However, what that chance was, how much in percentage, the Record did not specify. I really hoped I would never get another opportunity to test it in practice!
The second: "The One Who Stepped on the First Road." Again, Opal in color. It further increased my endurance. Also, more interestingly, it reduced energy costs by almost a quarter when passing through the Gates, which would definitely have a positive effect on my wallet.
The third: "The Main Path Lies Within the Soul." The Record was only Copper in color. And most strangely, this Achievement had no explanation. I would have considered it a "trash" one, which you get for trivial things, but the lofty name didn't allow me to treat this Achievement in such a manner. It seemed to me there was some kind of hint in it, most likely left by the Echo of Sundbad, I just couldn't understand its meaning yet. More precisely, there were so many meanings in these words that I couldn't choose the correct one among them.
Sure, Achievements are always good, but the fact that I earned them by actually being just half a step away from death was really nerve-wracking. Yes, now I was very close to the First Wall. But in the current situation, it hardly mattered. Because after participating in the Ritual of Halves, I would have gained the necessary amount of core growth energy to transition to Opal anyway. As for the bonuses received, the most useful one seemed to be the reduction in energy costs for using the Gates.
Sitting next to Ridan's body again, I wondered what had changed in this Cycle that led him to end up here. And no matter how much I thought about it, I found only one answer. From Cycle to Cycle, only the influence of earthlings changes, which meant that, most likely, it was someone from our ranks who hinted at how to get rid of the clan curse. Could that be the case? Easily. Even ordinary earthlings, not Shards, and not possessing the "memory of the future" like I did, saw many things differently than the locals. Perhaps one of the earthlings found something, noticed something, and this influenced Ridan's fate. Although, for the greatest champion of the Deytran Arena, not much actually changed. Just like in the Last Cycle, he still died at the hands of an earthling in the end. And the fact that it happened several months earlier, and that he was killed not by Nate, but by Scully – was that such a significant change? Fate has many Paths, and it seemed that somewhere in the higher realms it was destined for this man not to live until the Invasion.
These thoughts gave me a throbbing headache. I had never believed in absolute predestination or the immutability of fate, but after everything that happened, my convictions were no longer as firm. Perhaps, no matter how hard I tried, the demons were destined to win.
No.
Stop!
Like Ridan, I would still try to change fate! And even if, as a result of all these attempts, I ended up dying like him, it would be better than curling up in a corner and waiting for the inevitable, sinking into the abyss of self-pity.
Ain had not only changed me but also returned what seemed long lost after leaving the big sport. The desire to achieve the Goal, the thirst for Victory. I would walk this Path or die trying! And no doubts, no Fate would stop me.
Laughing softly and immediately grimacing from the pain, I whispered to no one in particular:
"Ain truly changes me. I never noticed such a love for pathos in myself before."
The new potions and the healing meditation I conducted had definitely done some good. I could feel my strength returning with every passing minute. Another hour or two, and I would be able to walk more or less normally. However, I still shouldn't have even thought about battles for at least two or three days. And as for duels with equals, I should have forgotten about those for at least a week. Damn Ridan's blade! If my wounds had been inflicted by regular steel, the recovery wouldn't have taken so long.
Speaking of it, I picked up the sword that had pierced me from the stones and examined the dwarvish script running along the blade. Theoretically, I knew that the dwarves' writing was an allegorical interpretation of the Runes, but no matter how much I stared at the inscription, I still couldn't understand its meaning.
When I told Scully about this sword, I wasn't lying. It really wasn't some powerful artifact. It had been forged by a dwarf exile specifically for Ridan after his first victory in the Arena. Essentially, it was almost an ordinary sword made of blue steel, the secret of which was known only to the dwarves. Almost, because the dwarf who forged it apparently had a deep hatred for humans, and part of that hatred transferred to the weapon that came from his hammer. This was why wounds inflicted by this blade healed so poorly. As for the grandiose name, the People's Bane, it was a nickname given to the sword by spectators in the stands. The true name of the sword was known only to Ridan, and he took that knowledge to the grave.
In the Last Cycle, after defeating Ridan, Nate received all the fallen champion's gear as trophies, including this sword. I "remembered" how the future Warrior's face twisted when he first drew this blade from its scabbard. In the end, Nate simply broke it over his knee. Yes, dwarf-forged steel - over his knee. I didn't think anyone else could pull off such a trick. Oh, how mad Katashi was at him, who was just studying the works of the dwarves at the time! How they quarreled! Well, in this version of the present, the future god of Labor would have the opportunity to examine the sword.
Putting the blade aside, I once again scrutinized Ridan's body. Scully had done a great job, stripping the corpse down to his underwear. But I couldn't blame her; I would have done the same. The only thing the huntress hadn't touched, besides the sword, was the scabbard of the People's Bane. And that was logical in its own way because if the weapon was enchanted, even touching what held it could be dangerous. In theory. I knew, however, that it was just ordinary scabbard, albeit excellently made and richly decorated. Such could be easily ordered from any master in Deytran.
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My attention briefly returned to the sword, but one detail from my memories made my gaze shift back. After breaking the sword, Nate didn't discard its scabbard! Even more so, he left with it. He didn't throw it away, didn't order to sell, and didn't gift it to any of his fighters - he took it with him.
Picking up the scabbard from the stones, I began to examine it closely. At first glance, nothing unusual, but remembering the uncharacteristic behavior of the future Warrior, I didn't give up and soon found a small compartment hidden under the inlay. If it weren't for the Achievement "Understanding the Hidden," I would never have noticed it. With slightly trembling fingers, I traced the inlay, and the compartment opened. Inside was a small crystal, only the size of a pinky fingernail, shaped like an hourglass and set in a reardane frame.
In the Last Cycle, "I" had one just like this! However, I only managed to acquire such a crystal when I was already at Mithril Rank. If I had put this item up for auction in Deytran, it would have easily fetched at least ten thousand full-weight gold coins in less than an hour! But despite the artifact's current uselessness to me, I wasn't going to even consider selling it.
Its name was "Crystal Hourglass". It allowed refreshing the "Spirit Armor" once a day. A priceless item for any warrior, and many mages wouldn't have refused it either. Due to the nature of the "Armor" spell, it couldn't be instantly reapplied, and when this protection was destroyed, you were forced to wait at least an hour for its "cooldown." This artifact allowed bypassing that limitation by instantly recharging the "Spirit Armor." Yes, the "Crystal Hourglass" wasn't a grand artifact, but it was still an incredibly rare item that was very difficult to obtain. This was due to the fact that dwarves securely guarded the secret of making such items, and it was only known that when creating an "Hourglass," the craftsman imbued a piece of their soul into the artifact. An incredible find, perhaps worth the risk I had to endure, even more than all the Achievements I had gained that day.
To activate the "Crystal Hourglass," you didn't need to touch the artifact itself; it was enough for it to be within your aura. After brief consideration, I had hidden it in one of the secret pockets of my orcish belt.
A further examination of Ridan's body yielded nothing. Scully did a thorough job, and even a copper coin didn't escape her attention. Making sure I wouldn't find anything else interesting on the corpse, I returned to my belongings, which the huntress had carefully placed on the stones. To reach the wound, she had to strip me to the waist, so now I was sporting a bare torso. Meanwhile, the weather was deteriorating again.
Looking over the chainmail and gambeson, I sighed with relief. Honestly, I expected much worse damage. In fact, the People's Bane made a neat hole in my armor, which could be patched up even with the meager tools I had in my backpack.
Thanks to the fact that in the Last Cycle I often helped Katashi's apprentices in the forge, I tied together the torn rings of the chainmail and thus patched the hole in the stomach area in less than an hour. Of course, my patch wouldn't save from a good hit, but at least the rings wouldn't come apart. Fixing the gambeson was even faster; I just sewed up the tear, and that was it. Then I did the same with the shirt. However, I didn't put on either the damaged shirt or the armor right away, as I first needed to clean all this from my already-dried blood. Thankfully, Scully at least scrubbed the blood off me, though a full wash definitely wouldn't hurt.
By this point, I felt strong enough to continue my journey. Having packed my things into my backpack, I sheathed the People's Bane and tightly wrapped it in green cloth that negated dark emanations, then securely tied the weapon to the backpack. I would have preferred to deliver this sword to Katashi without attracting curious glances, so I did it this way. Any experienced thief could easily recognize that the fabric wrap was enchanted by Ishid's priests to ward off Darkness, and only a foolhardy idiot would dare check what was inside. Of course, I didn't think anyone in their right mind would attempt to rob the Sheriff of the Book, but as they say, better safe than sorry.
Bending down to Ridan's body, I was about to lift it when I remembered an important task that had completely slipped my holey head due to all these adventures. Dropping all my things, I got down on all fours and began carefully examining every stone on the First Road. If I understood the logic of Ain's gods correctly, in such a place, a Living Rune of the Path simply had to be present. An entire hour passed, I inspected every pebble of the First Road, but found no trace of the Rune.
"So what is my mistake?" I whispered, raising my head to the sky.
Predictably having failed to get any response, I sat right in the center of the Crossroads and immersed myself in contemplative meditation to calm my racing thoughts. Shifting my focus across everything around me, I briefly looked at myself, as if from the outside. At the traveler sitting at the intersection of stone paths. And as soon as that happened, I Saw!
Of course, I didn't find any rune on the stones, and it was impossible to find one there! Because the Crossroads itself was a massive Rune! In my vision, it appeared as an arrow, the shaft of which was bent in the shape of a Möbius strip. As soon as I Saw this, I Comprehended the Rune of the Path. Without breaking my meditation, I thanked Sundbad for the Gift, but received no reply. I only clearly felt that the Crossroads was not a place for rest and that I needed to leave it as quickly as possible, as I had already stayed here too long. Apparently, Scully felt something similar before she left.
I decided not to risk defying the will of the Echo, just as the huntress had not. I quickly gathered my things and, groaning in pain, lifted Ridan's body, then hastily left the fragment of the First Road.
As soon as I stepped off the time-yellowed stone, the world spun around, my head swam, and I had to drop to one knee to avoid falling. Listening carefully, I extended the reach of the Aura of Perception to its limit but noticed nothing unusual. Only then did I rise to my feet and look around more closely. I was definitely not in the same place where my feet first stepped onto the Crossroads. The forest behind me was much sparser, and directly ahead rose a rocky hill.
Lifting Ridan's body, I dragged it to the hillside and immediately found a suitable place for burial. There was no need to even dig the ground. A narrow gap in the rocky ground descended two meters, and the size of this fissure, which seemed to have formed quite recently, was perfect for a grave.
Out of respect for the dead, I did not throw the body down but, despite the pain, carefully lowered it to the bottom of the crevice. After that, I climbed up the steep slope and, with several kicks, pushed down a pile of stones, which securely covered the corpse from prying eyes and curious scavengers. Descending again to the filled-in gap, I rearranged the stones so they lay more tightly, ensuring that even the smallest animal could not reach the body of the multiple champion of the Deytran Arena. Then, I set a large flat stone on edge at the head of this makeshift grave and recited a short prayer to Antares. This whole task took me not much time, no more than a third of an hour, and upon completing it, I felt that I had done everything right.
After resting a bit and taking another Healing potion, I climbed to the top of the hill and froze in mild surprise. Then I looked carefully at the sky and again to the west.
Either I was becoming as lucky as Shards, or what happened at the Crossroads pleased the God of Paths, and he decided to reward me. If my sight didn't deceive me, I had stepped off the fragment of the First Road nearly a hundred and fifty kilometers west of where I entered it, and from the hilltop where I stood, I could easily see Throne Peak. Even in my sorry state, it wouldn't have taken more than a day's journey from where I stood to the mountain beneath which lay the ancient capital of the undermountain kingdom.
Interesting, was Scully looking for me? If so, I didn't envy her - even with her skills and abilities, I was almost certain she wouldn't succeed. Yes, she had mentioned something about a "Hunter's Mark," but memory told me that abilities like that didn't work over such great distances. Perhaps later, if the Australian did indeed ascend the Divino Stairway and became the goddess of the Hunt, she would be capable of finding me. But even then, it wasn't certain, because if anyone could lead astray a hunter following a trail, it was the God of Roads.
Despite one of my main priorities being to help the Shards, I was actually glad that my next encounter with Scully was unlikely to happen soon. To be honest, the girl scared me. Not because of her skills or possible future divinity, but because of her character. I had long noticed that all the Shards mostly tried to follow their essence. Nate loved to fight, Arien adored magic, Katashi's thoughts were all about work, and Dice's - about drinking. But even among them, Scully seemed excessively "wacky" to me. Besides, her hints that she liked me as a man... Most likely, it was just acting on her part, intended to confuse me. But what if it wasn't acting? No, thank you! Well, I wouldn't refuse a brief one-night fling with such a beautiful girl. But something told me that it wouldn't end with just one. No, no, and a thousand times no!
Besides, the Australian seemed to learn from her mistakes and was quite capable of taking care of herself. With the sale of her found trophies, she could drastically improve her equipment, which would also enhance her chances of survival and further growth in the Ranks. So, I was really glad that Scully remained somewhere far to the east.
Thanking Sundbad for his help just in case, I adjusted my backpack, set my bearings, descended the hill, and headed towards the solitary mountain. Due to the still occasionally aching wound, training with weapons was out of the question. Using elemental magic also caused quite painful sensations in my spine area. However, Light magic, as it seemed to me, had a positive effect on my condition. Noticing this detail, to save time, I once again began experimenting with the "Flashlight," trying to turn this support spell into a laser. I wasn't deluding myself with thoughts that something might come of it today. In any case, these experiments were very useful, as they simultaneously trained Illusion and Shadow magic along with Light.
Apparently, because I wasn't in a hurry and moved slowly, I managed to notice that my attempts to combine various magical schools into one spell, among other things, significantly improved my Mental magic. Most likely, it was the Mind that served as the link through which the combination of different magical streams occurred. In the Last Cycle, Arien said something similar, but I didn't understand her then. Now, the words of the future goddess of Elemental Magic resurfaced in my memory and made me ponder.
So, training and contemplating, hour after hour, I moved forward, occasionally stopping for a short rest. The potions and the absence of overexertion gradually did their job, and I felt increasingly better. Nonetheless, any sudden movement could still trigger internal bleeding, so any "adventures" were contraindicated for me. Because of this, I bypassed the villages I encountered on my way in a wide arc. Of course, in such seemingly poor places, it was unlikely that anyone could pose a challenge to a warrior of Wootz, but knowing my "luck," I preferred not to take risks. Besides, I still had a good supply of potions, and thanks to Arien, who gathered a basket of food for me, I didn't need to worry about provisions.
Despite not rushing and avoiding running, I covered quite a distance by earthly standards in a daylight span, about fifty kilometers. Noticing another hill along the way, I climbed to its peak and looked around. Just like in the case of Belgran, the ruined city where I found Seguna's forgotten altar, the locals clearly didn't want to settle near the Throne Peak. I didn't see a single settlement closer than twenty kilometers from the mountain. This also matched the stories of the earthlings that "I" heard in the Last Cycle.
As the sun was already setting, I didn't risk continuing my journey in the dark. Large stones started appearing underfoot increasingly often, and a couple of deep crevices I spotted from the hill didn't inspire optimism, considering my condition.
Damn Ridan's sword, if my wound had been inflicted by an ordinary weapon, I would have already recovered by now, given how many potions I've used!
Stopping for the night, I cooked a light soup from dried mushrooms found at the bottom of Arien's basket. After having dinner while paying attention to the sensations in my abdomen, I performed restorative meditation and extinguished the campfire. Then, I moved a considerable distance away from the campsite, found a hidden spot behind some fallen trees, dropped my belongings, and lay down directly on the grass, not letting go of Striking Whisper.
I woke up about two hours before dawn and felt quite rested. Getting to my feet, I even risked doing a light warm-up, which revealed that the healing of my internal injuries was going even better than I had expected. Yes, I was still no fighter for the time being, but if necessary, I could speed up without fear of the wound reopening. Just in case, I covered up any traces of my overnight stay and continued on my way in high spirits.
Externally, the Throne Peak didn't make a grand impression. It was just a solitary mountain in hilly terrain, no more than one and a half kilometers high. The only thing that immediately caught your eye was its perfect shape. If you added height and an ice cap to the Throne Peak, it could have been mistaken for Mount Fuji.
The closer I got to the Peak, the more the ground beneath my feet changed. With each step, there were more stones, and the soil became less suitable for agriculture. A stream I encountered along the way carried yellowish water rich with clay sediment. It was quite possible that the locals didn't settle near the mountain because the land here was poor for farming, rather than out of fear of the ancient ruins of the underground city.
At dawn, after rounding another rocky hill, I reached the foot of the Throne Peak. I stopped and, looking up at the mountain that filled the entire horizon, thought that coming here might not have been the best idea. In my current state, just finding the entrance to the former capital of the dwarves could take more than a day! Perhaps I should have visited the nearby villages and hired a guide. No matter how much the locals feared the ancient mountain, surely there was someone whose curiosity outweighed their fear.
By the way, speaking of the curious! After climbing about two hundred steps and passing a rocky ledge, I noticed the glimmer of someone else's campfire. Wincing in pain, I forced myself to climb onto a huge boulder and easily made out a small campsite in the early morning light. A solitary tent tucked against the rock, several flat stones stacked to form something like a table, a recessed fire pit, and a dozen bags of dense fabric piled to the side. However, this place looked as if someone had been living here for more than just a day. This was evidenced by a well-trodden path to the nearest stream and two large piles of crushed stone just ten steps from the campsite itself.
Without revealing my presence, I continued to observe. About half an hour later, my patience was rewarded. The tent flap was pulled back, and a lone person emerged. Even from the distance separating us, it was clear to me that this was unlikely to be a local peasant. He was dressed poorly but neatly, wearing a thick leather jacket, canvas pants, and high boots. Yawning, the stranger lifted a pot, stretched, and walked to the stream, where he filled it with water; on the mountain slope, the water was much cleaner than at the base of the Peak. He then returned to the campsite, hung the pot on a tripod, and added firewood to the circular hearth. After that, he extended his hand, and a small stream of fire burst from his palm, lighting the campfire. As soon as the firewood caught and the cheerful flame burned, the stranger suddenly began hopping on one leg and shaking his hand, seemingly silently cursing.
Another half hour of observation convinced me that this stranger was alone here. His behavior, as well as the fact that the tent clearly couldn't accommodate a second person, pointed to this.
While watching the stranger, I noticed his abnormal behavior. Firstly, after each use of magic, even the simplest household spells, he would start either jumping in place or shaking his hands. Secondly, for a long time, I couldn't understand what he was doing here at all. The water in the pot hadn't even boiled yet when the stranger, having taken several stones from one of the bags, settled at his improvised table and began dusting off these stones with a broad brush as if cleaning them.
What a strange activity! Who could come up with such a thing? What was he even doing? In an hour, he managed to clean about fifty stones in this way, and then he threw all of them away like garbage, except for one. The remaining flat stone, about the size of a palm, he placed in the center of the table. He then went to his tent and returned with a thick stack of cheap paper. For a few minutes, he studied what seemed to be his notes, glancing now and then at the stone in the center of the table. This continued for about ten minutes, after which the stranger, in clear irritation and frustration, grabbed the stone that had caught his attention and threw it down the slope.
Either I stumbled upon the camp of some madman, or I didn't understand what was happening at all. After going to one of the bags, the stranger picked up a new batch of stones and returned to the table. He was so absorbed in his task that he seemed oblivious to everything around him.
Descending from the boulder and taking advantage of the fact that this lunatic was only looking at his stones, I dared to come closer. Once the distance to the camp allowed it, I finally discerned the stranger's Rank. Bronze. This meant that even in my sorry state, he posed no threat.
Not hiding but also not making unnecessary noise, I walked up to the campsite without any fear. Still, despite that it was morning already, daylight was abundant, and I wasn't trying to conceal myself, the man didn't notice me despite being no more than five steps away now.
Examining the camp from such a close distance, I noticed several interesting details and wasn't at all surprised when, after throwing another stone, the stranger swore angrily:
"Scheiße! Another dud."