Having cursed into the void, the earthling bent down, reached into the bag at his feet without looking, pulled out a new stone, and began examining it. I even grew curious when he would notice he wasn't alone. Seriously, has anyone from our world really managed to survive on Ain for so long with such carelessness? Approaching, I did not hide my presence, did not conceal myself, and while it was clear he was busy with his own affairs and perhaps overly engrossed, even a trite Perception Aura would have easily allowed him to detect a stranger's breath just five steps away. But it seemed this man didn't care about his safety at all. Or maybe he had become so accustomed to solitude that any precautions seemed unnecessary to him? He didn't even keep his weapon close! His staff, topped with ordinary obsidian, along with a belt holding a broad knife that resembled a cutlass, lay near the entrance of the tent, and it seemed to me that no one had touched them for several days.

The fact that before me was an earthling was clear not just from the way he cursed. There were also the details of his clothing, especially the shoes, with characteristically tied shoelaces, and his movements - too careless and relaxed for such a desolate area. Yes, people tended to avoid Throne Peak, considering the place cursed. Moreover, sometimes dwarf pilgrims came here to honor their ancestors and harshly punished those who dared to disturb the ancient ruins, which didn't add to the slopes' popularity among locals. But in such a deserted area, wild beasts and possibly even monsters had free reign. Nonetheless, the man engrossed in examining the stones seemed lost in his own reality. This earthling was unfamiliar to me. I hadn't encountered him in any group trials or during the Last Cycle. But judging by his carelessness, he didn't pose a danger to me.

About five minutes passed before the stranger needed to wipe the stone and, taking a rag, bent over the bucket to wet it. And since I was standing in the same direction, he naturally noticed me. Reaching for the bucket, the earthling suddenly froze, then very slowly, as if not believing his eyes, raised his head. Our eyes met. For about two seconds, nothing happened, and then the stranger jumped to his feet, knocking over the stool he had been sitting on and tipping the bucket.

"Shield!" his lips whispered.

An air barrier instantly appeared between us. However, first of all, the spell turned out to be quite weak. And secondly, he held it for less than a second, after which the magic dissipated, and the earthling doubled over in pain, the fingers of his hand stretched out towards me turning white. He immediately took a step back, tripped over the stool he had overturned, and this predictably led to his fall. Nevertheless, even having fallen, the owner of the campsite immediately jumped up and rushed to the weapon left by the tent.

Of course, I could stop all this at any moment, but I didn't interfere. I was curious to see what he would do and how he would behave next.

The earthling, darting to the tent, grabbed a staff and swiftly turned towards me, pointing the weapon forward. In his gaze, one could easily discern both fear and something akin to genuine determination. I was tempted to shout something like "Boo!", but remembering how a similar theatricality ended not so long ago, I restrained myself and, smiling as friendly as possible, said:

"No need for aggression, I'm not an enemy."

At first, it seemed that the stranger did not understand what I was talking about at all. Then the words reached him, but instead of relaxing, he tensed up even more.

"Raven from Seattle," I introduced myself to ease the strange tension hanging in the air. "May I sit down?"

Without waiting for a response from the campsite owner, feigning relief as if after a long journey, I dropped my backpack to the ground. Then, with exaggerated exhaustion, I sat down on a large stone a few steps away from the table separating us. I immediately took the flask from my belt and began drinking greedily. It's hard for a person to perceive someone else as aggressive if they are quenching their thirst, as Nate once told me. And apparently, he was right in this observation. The earthling, although he hadn't set his staff aside, no longer seemed to be thinking about attacking. Under the watchful gaze of the stranger, I drank half of the flask, then splashed some water on my hand and washed my face. While I was screwing the cap back on and hanging the flask on my belt, the earthling took a step forward, picked up the fallen stool, and sat on it.

"From Seattle?" the stone enthusiast asked.

"From Seattle, Paris, London, Tokyo, or Shanghai - does it matter?" I tilted my head and asked back. "The main thing is that when I introduce myself like that, earthlings immediately understand what I mean."

"Ah..." The stranger thought for a couple of seconds, then said, "Rikhard... from Köln." Judging by his correct conclusion, he's got a good head on his shoulders.

"Are you interested in archaeology?" To completely dispel the initial tension, I asked, nodding at the stones in the bags.

However, judging by the earthling's expression, I didn't guess right with this question. Instead of perking up when his favorite subject was mentioned, he frowned as if he had bitten off at least half a lemon. Realizing I had miscalculated somewhere, I continued speaking as if I hadn't noticed his reaction:

"You were so engrossed in the process that you didn't even notice my approach, though I didn't hide." I waved my hand in the direction I had come from.

"Engrossed?" Rikhard said with a bitter smile. "You could say that, yes. Only, as an archaeologist, I'm like a piece of...." He didn't finish the sentence and just waved his hand.

"Hey!" I raised my palms. "I'm not insisting. If you don't want to talk, don't. Maybe you can tell me about this place? Where exactly have I ended up?"

Gradually, step by step, I managed to get him talking. Although Rikhard preferred to speak in general terms and expressions, with each passing minute he feared me less and less and even put his staff aside, leaning it against the table. For a while, we exchanged meaningless phrases. Then, as if by chance, Rikhard asked:

"Why are you without a group?"

"Back in the second week on Ain, I surpassed the others in my group in Rank. Then a questers' assignment came up, and I had to go on by myself."

In this case, there was no need to invent anything, and I basically told it as it was. Although I had to explain who I meant by questers. Each mention of these entities made the earthling flinch. There was clearly some story behind it, but I didn't rush him. If he wanted to tell it, he would; if not, well, I wasn't too keen on getting into other people's business, I had more than enough of my own problems!

"So this is Throne Peak," I drawled after another explanation from Rikhard, looking at the mountain looming above us. "I had heard about this place but imagined it quite differently." I clicked my tongue, as if in disappointment. "After all, it's the ancient, though ruined, capital of the undermountain kingdom! I expected to see giant ruins, something like our pyramids, but here it's just an ordinary-looking mountain."

"The entire city is hidden inside the Peak," Rikhard rolled his eyes, then began telling me things I already knew.

However, my knowledge of this place was only from second-hand stories, so I listened to the earthling with genuine interest.

"The first tier, the closest to the surface, was considered the guest floor. Trading rows, inns. Below it was the barracks tier. After it, even deeper, the third, the storage tier. And a tier isn't just a floor as we understand it; it's a whole layer ranging from ten to a hundred meters deep! Then followed the residential, production, and mining tiers. Dozens of them!.."

After speaking non-stop for about ten minutes, Rikhard finally fell silent, greedily drinking from a ladle of water.

"I see you know a lot about Throne Peak," I took advantage of the pause to interject.

"I have to," the earthling waved his hand in an incomprehensible anger. Then he fell silent for a few seconds before suddenly erupting, jumping to his feet and kicking a bag of stones. "I'm up to my eyeballs with this mountain already! I hate it!!! I've had it up to here!" He gestured at eye level.

"Is someone holding you here against your will?" I asked, placing my hand on my spear.

"Holding?" Rikhard chuckled. "By force? Ha-ha-ha! These, as you called them, questers don't need chains." He extended his hand, and a flame flickered above his palm before extinguishing, leaving him doubled over in pain. "This is what keeps me here!"

"Explain." His demonstration clarified nothing for me.

"I failed the Affinity task! That's what! And I earned this damn curse! Now, any spell I cast is twice as weak, and using magic causes me pain! But that wasn't enough for those bastards! If I don't use magic at least fifty times a day, I'll lose my magical gift forever! It wasn't enough for them to curse me for failure; they had to make me torture myself!!" It didn't come as a surprise that the earthling's outburst turned into a shout; he clearly had it tough.

"Is this permanent?" I asked.

"For six months!" Rikhard deflated as if all the air had been let out of him and collapsed onto a stool.

"There are pain-relieving potions, and they're not that expensive," I suggested, hoping it might help him.

"They don't work!" Rikhard dismissed the idea with a wave. "Well, they don't work on this curse, but they do a great job with regular pain from cuts or bruises... I've checked."

After finishing, he concentrated and summoned the fire in his palm again. This time, it seemed the pain was bearable, and he held the flame for about ten seconds.

"If you weave the energies perfectly, the pain isn't as severe," the earthling explained in response to my questioning look.

In the Last Cycle, I wouldn't have paid much attention to this clarification, focusing more on the curse itself and the insidiousness of the questers who forced a person to consciously harm themselves. Now, however, I wasn't so categorical and, although I still opposed such methods, I couldn't help but acknowledge that the curse placed on the earthling also seemingly served his training.

"Is the curse not as strong in this place?" I clarified.

"What?" Rikhard asked, not understanding my question.

"As far as I can tell," I demonstratively gestured around the campsite, "you clearly haven't been here just for a day. And since you prefer to stay on this slope instead of looking for ways to lift the curse placed by the questers, there must be a reason for that. So I assumed that this curse is not as strong here."

"What? Nonsense! It's the same everywhere, and even the priests of Mithril wouldn't be able to remove it, I was warned about that right away." The earthling grimaced. "It's not enough for those bastards to just curse you for failure! They have to screw you even more!" Unable to restrain himself, he struck the stone table, and, as if not feeling the pain, continued. "They 'generously granted' the possibility of lifting the curse early! All you have to do is descend to the seventh tier of Throne Peak and personally place a mountain iris flower on the pedestal in honor of Dvalin the Pioneer!" The earthling clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Bastards! Where am I, and where is the seventh tier?! Especially with my curse!"

"Is it difficult?" I acted clueless.

"A Wootz-rank team might manage, and even then only if they knew exactly where to go." Rikhard waved hopelessly.

Judging by what I had heard in the Last Cycle, in my current state, I wouldn't risk descending below the fifth tier of the Peak, let alone the seventh. So I couldn't help Rikhard, even if I really wanted to.

Additional inquiries finally shed light on what exactly the earthling had been doing while cleaning the stones. As it turned out, he had found a fragment of a map of the upper tiers. Naturally, this map, created by the dwarves, wasn't on paper but carved into rock. Time and looters had not spared the ancient bas-reliefs, leaving only small fragments on the rock itself. But Rikhard had managed to find the place where the broken remnants of the map had been dumped. Over the centuries, that ravine had been buried multiple times by landslides and collapses, so for every fragment found by the earthling, there were dozens of "empty" stones. Nonetheless, Rikhard had proved to be quite persistent, and at the moment, his notes already contained sketches of the plans of the first three tiers.

"I don't even know why I'm doing this!" The earthling shook his head. "Because of the Catastrophe and the cataclysms over thousands of years, these tier plans are almost worthless!" He spread his hands. "According to the plan, there should be a wide street, but in reality, there's a pile of stones up to the ceiling! Or vice versa, the plan shows a wall, but in reality, there's a huge chasm. Although..." He suddenly smiled. "They do have some use. For each restored floor plan, I received quite significant Achievements! If I map one more, I might reach Steel... Though that's not entirely certain... And the plans at least show where there might be passages from tier to tier, which can serve as a sort of guide."

"And how deep have you gone?" I asked the earthling, encouragingly smiling.

"I've been to the third tier a couple of times. But it's so overgrown with those ubiquitous dwarven mushrooms! It's like entering a fungal jungle! And there, besides the almost harmless armortails, you start encountering coal rats."

"Armortails? Coal rats?" I feigned ignorance, as if hearing these names for the first time.

"Armortails are creatures about the size of a dog, covered in scales similar to earth's armadillos, and capable of gnawing even granite. They feed on mountain mushrooms and attack only if you show aggression. But coal rats are much nastier creatures. Where there are herbivores like the armortails, predators also appear... They aren't very large, but they're dangerous pests. They attack in packs, with teeth and claws that tear through chainmail like paper. Because of the curse, I still can handle a lone coal rat, but even a small pack would be too much for me."

"Are those all the monsters that inhabit the mountain?"

"Haha! If only... Already on the fourth tier appear those for whom coal rats are no more than a snack. And the further down you go, the more dangerous the creatures become. On the fifth tier, there are rockjaws and stone spiders... I've never seen them, but judging by the stories, they're not good news either."

"Granite trolls?" I clarified.

"Starting from the seventh," the earthling nodded and quickly corrected himself: "I haven't seen them myself, maybe I was lied to."

"I didn't think the locals knew so much about the Peak. From what I understand, they prefer to bypass this place."

"It depends on the locals. The peasants, yes, they avoid this mountain like a plague," Rikhard smiled, then pointed somewhere to the south. "A day's journey from here is a small Temple of Aerad. I did something useful for the monks of the God of Chroniclers, and they told me some details about Throne Peak as a reciprocal favor, so to speak."

We talked for a few more minutes, then Rikhard, as if suddenly coming to his senses, offered me some tea. After waiting for the drink to brew, I took a small sip and, catching the earthling's gaze directed at my Guild Sign, asked with sincere curiosity:

"You asked about my group, but where is yours?"

This question clearly awakened some unpleasant memories in the earthling. Placing his half-drunk mug on the table, Rikhard grimaced but answered nonetheless:

"Our party wasn't quite the most cooperative from the start."

"Everyone was trying to call the shots?" I nodded understandingly.

"Ha! Quite the opposite! No one wanted to make any decisions!" The earthling replied somewhat bitterly. "And that's partly my fault… For over two weeks, we collected trash achievements, almost failing the first and second tasks. Fools… We genuinely believed that since we were transferred to another world and passed the preliminary trials, everything would be different now, and everything would work out on its own. Then, you could say we got lucky, a wanderer of the Steel Rank took a liking to Pamira, a girl from our group, and he helped us a lot. He arranged for the tunnellers to take us on dungeon clearings, told us a lot about the world around us. In the end, Pamira left with him, there were four of us left, and we all failed the Affinity task. After that, the group completely fell apart."

"Questers can be ruthless," I said when the pause in his story became prolonged.

"Yet you, judging by the color of your Guild Sign, haven't failed a single one of their tasks," Rikhard snapped, but immediately realized he had said something wrong and apologized.

"I've had my share of hardships as well."

"I understand," the earthling said very quietly and turned away.

The silence hanging over the improvised stone table lasted for about two minutes. Eventually, I grew tired of it and continued the conversation:

"So, you have a choice. Either suffer with the curse for six months or try to complete the additional questers' task."

"In my case, it's an impossible task," my companion shook his head.

"Are you sure it's that hopeless?" I asked a bit angrily, as this Rikhard was beginning to genuinely irritate me with his fatalism. How did he even manage to pass the initial trials with such a character? A mystery.

"The seventh tier of the Peak..." The earthling shook his head. "It takes a Wootz group to get there. Besides, without at least a rough map showing the descents and stairs, such a journey could last for weeks!" He threw up his hands, then pulled out his notes from his bag and threw them on the table. "You don't understand, inside the mountain, it's a real city! Huge. Empty. Ruined... And the map," the earthling kicked a bag of stones under his feet, "at this rate, I'll restore it in two months at best! And where am I supposed to get money for hiring Wootz mercenaries?" He was getting more and more agitated. "If I hadn't found some scale from an ancient armor while digging through these stones, which a merchant bought for a whole ten gold coins, I wouldn't even have money for food."

"I heard there are many treasures hidden deep within Throne Peak," I said, feigning surprise.

"Deep within?" Rikhard smirked. "Maybe, maybe. But the upper tiers, from what I've seen, are so plundered that even the bas-reliefs have been stripped from the walls, and the once beautiful road tiles are all shattered."

"Have you descended beyond the third tier?"

"No!" The earthling shook his head. "Even on the third, the rats nearly ate me! This curse prevents me from properly using magic, otherwise, I would have..."

"Your staff is also a weapon."

"I do train!" Rikhard snapped, but then, like a deflated sack, slumped back onto the stool. "But I only have three Talent Stars in staves."

"Many tunnellers of Wootz don't even have that," I said a bit angrily.

"They trained for years! Besides, I studied magic, practicing with the staff whenever time allowed... If only it weren't for the curse, I would be burning those rats by the dozens!"

'If only...' - how often do we resort to such excuses? But what's the use of them? I was a bit surprised that with such an approach to life he hasn't asked me for help yet.

"Did you at least find the right flower?" I asked, not hoping for a positive answer.

"What's there to search for?" Rikhard was surprised. "They grow along the stream here." He waved his hand toward the slope. "By the way, they wither very quickly, in one day. And it seems to me, if I do manage to get to the place and lay down a withered bouquet, the task either won't be credited to me or it will be, but not fully. And that makes everything even more complicated!"

Maybe I shouldn't have thought badly of him. After all, Rikhard didn't give up, even when left alone. He kept mapping the upper tiers, and that was far from a foolish endeavor. Judging by what I saw at the campsite, he had been working tirelessly on this. He also went to the Temple of Aerad and learned what he could. Yes, compared to many earthlings I had met in this Cycle, he did seem like a failure. But I shouldn't forget that many of us were in similar situations. Quite a few, like him, had failed the Affinity task and were now suffering various curses because of this failure. And if I wasn't mistaken, the questers would soon "delight" us with another task. For those who had failed the previous one, it would be much more difficult to complete.

The situation Rikhard and those like him were in wasn't quite enviable, but I couldn't be a nanny for everyone either. I was brought to Throne Peak by the thought that there might be Living Runes preserved in the ruins of the underground city. But according to the earthling, the looters hadn't even spared the wall reliefs, so most likely my hopes for such finds were futile. Perhaps something had been preserved on the floors below the tenth, but in my condition, I couldn't go that deep. Moreover, Rikhard was right, wandering through the ruins of the ancient city, each tier of which covered at least a square kilometer, without knowing where the stairs and descents were, could take weeks. This was definitely not a task for a loner; it required a full-fledged search party. And not just any party, but one consisting of fighters and mages of at least the Precious Coil.

"So, you seem to specialize in Fire magic?" I inquired, trying to change the subject, which was depressing for the earthling.

"Fire and Air in equal measure." Rikhard's voice was filled with sadness. "I think it's a great combination."

"Have you learned many spells?"

"Fire Fan, Flame Arrow..." he started listing but then faltered and looked wistfully at the smoldering embers in the campfire. "But what's the point?! Right now, all this magic is useless."

To confirm his words, he turned towards the stream and released a burst of Fire from his palm, but the flame extinguished in less than a second, and the earthling began shaking his hand. Bad. I hoped to learn the Air Shield from him, which he demonstrated at the beginning of our meeting. But to teach, you need to slowly show the student the flow of energies, their weaving, and that was an impossible task for Rikhard right now.

"So, how did you end up in these parts?" the earthling asked.

"Well, I was passing nearby, heard about the local attraction, and decided to take a look," I answered vaguely. "And now, after your stories, I think I just wasted my time."

"In fact, when Seguna rises, and the fungal colonies start to glow faintly," Rikhard closed his eyes as if reminiscing, "it's very beautiful. And if you have a good imagination and can picture how the underground city might have looked before the catastrophes and looting, it's breathtaking."

"Will you show me?" I wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere with my wound, so I might as well take a look.

"Are you suggesting I play tour guide?" the earthling laughed. "That's not going to happen."

"Are you that busy?" I asked, nodding at a couple of bags filled with stones.

"That's not the point," my companion waved off, his mood suddenly dropping. "You'd better not linger here."

"Why is that?" This time, I was genuinely surprised.

"Well... Three days ago, someone showed up here... He tolerates me, but he drove off a couple of locals who came to these slopes. And not just drove them off, but broke their arms and kicked them down the mountain."

Probably another robber who doesn't tolerate competition.

"Harsh," I said, standing up. "Let's go, show me this guardian of local beauty."

"Maybe we shouldn't?" Rikhard mumbled, looking away.

"I'm the Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild, and I'm interested."

In reality, the guild sheriff shouldn't care about what happens on these slopes. My interest was different. If this truly was a lone antiquities robber, he might very well have a map of the city. Moreover, he did not touch the earthling, allowing him to rummage on the slopes, which hinted that it was likely possible to negotiate with this person. Of course, this was all speculative, but "what if?"

"Raven... Don't!" Something was off, the earthling genuinely looked scared. "I beg you, just leave!"

If it weren't for my wound... I would have ignored Rikhard's words, but now, it was probably better to follow his advice and not meddle in matters that weren't mine. It was certainly frustrating to spend so much time traveling here and leave with nothing, not even seeing the famous ruins of the undermountain kingdom's capital. But sometimes, one has to listen to the voice of paranoia. I nodded to the earthling, while simultaneously expanding the radius of the Perception Aura as much as possible, just in case. I "listened in," holding my breath. Apparently, we were alone here; there was not even any small wildlife nearby, which meant there was no immediate danger for now.

"Alright, I heard you."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"You have to understand..." Rikhard became even more agitated. "You'll leave, but I still have to stay here for a long time." He pointed to his notes.

"And what rank is..." I simply waved my hand without finishing the sentence, but the earthling understood me.

"I don't know. He doesn't have any distinctive Signs, ribbons, or Symbols."

By the way, that was a bad sign. Usually, those who hid their true rank were Bounty Hunters, members of the Assassins' Guild, or thieves and bandits.

"Are you really safe?" I asked, switching to English. "If you're being held here against your will, just say so."

"Huh? What? No, everything's fine! He's even interested to see if I can restore the map. He promised to pay well if I succeed."

"Promising doesn't mean paying," I warned.

"He swore by Ishid that he wouldn't harm me and would pay for the map provided I don't enter the city without his permission," Rikhard frowned. "By the way, do you know if such oaths can be trusted at all?"

"Was the oath made at a true Altar?" I clarified.

"No," the earthling shook his head. "Here, on this slope."

"In that case..." My expression said it all, and the earthling became even more despondent. "I'm heading towards Nimartz, a city to the southwest. I suggest you come with me."

"But the curse..." Rikhard muttered, turning away.

"You said the pain is weaker if the spell is perfectly formed. I think you'd be better off spending more time training energy control than, in your condition, trying to accomplish the questers' task. Even I, being at Wootz, wouldn't risk descending to the seventh tier without a support group."

Actually, if my life had been at stake and I had been healthy, then maybe it would have been worth a try. But Rikhard was not me, and he was certainly not a Shard, which meant it was not wise to risk myself for him. Yes, thanks to the trip to the Garnet dungeon, even Stone Trolls didn't pose a significant threat to me. But the ruins inside the mountain were not a dungeon with a limited number of enemies, and there could be dozens, if not hundreds, of monsters on the floors.

"No." Raising his head, the earthling firmly replied. "I've already made it halfway! Half the map to the seventh tier is already complete. I'm not going to abandon all this work to run away. Enough! I've been running from everything for two months, and where has it gotten me?" He jumped to his feet and gestured around the camp. "I'm tired of it! On Earth, I led a quiet, peaceful life as an ordinary clerk, agreeing to everything. I did whatever I could to get by, justifying my actions with the phrase 'it's not me, it's life!'" With each word, he got more heated, and it became clear to me that during the first group test, he had no doubt about whether to take the rod of life or leave it to others. "I've made up my mind. I'll complete the map, first reach Steel, then Wootz, and lay those damn flowers!"

"Or you'll die." I painted a more realistic perspective.

"So what?" Rikhard turned red as a lobster, his fingers trembling. "I lived like a worm, so at least I'll die a human, not a slug!"

"Alright, alright!" I raised my hands in a gesture of peace. "I get it. Your decision, your choice."

"Yes, mine!" Rikhard shouted and suddenly seemed to sag, turned pale, took a step back, and said, "And the map, I will complete it..."

The last words he said were clearly not addressed to me but looking somewhere over my shoulder. The Aura of Perception was silent, not noting anyone alive nearby. Nevertheless, obeying my instincts, I jumped four meters forward. In the air, I grouped myself; a sharp pain cut through my stomach, but I had no time for that. Landing on a large boulder, I spun on my toes, maintaining balance. Striking Whisper described a wide arc, ready to deflect an attack.

Only five steps away from where I had just been, a dwarf stood like a steel statue, clad in plate armor from head to toe! Yet my Aura perceived him not as a living being but as an ordinary stone, of which there were hundreds upon hundreds on this slope. He was about one and a half meters tall and just as wide at the shoulders. His dark-red, almost crimson beard was braided into tight plaits and tucked behind a belt studded with steel plaques. His so unusual for Ain headgear, resembling a construction helmet, did not cover his broad face, marked by deep wrinkles, but reliably protected his head from falling rocks. Since dwarves are alien to magic, his hands and palms were also covered in armor.

They say that by the braids in a dwarf's beard, one can determine his clan, age, and social and artisan status. However, I was not well-versed in this, so it was hard for me to even guess his age. Dwarves live much longer than humans, and the one standing on the mountain path could have been fifty or even two hundred years old. His heavy, calm gaze, under thick, overhanging eyebrows, studied me carefully.

He held no weapon in his hands. Wait, he had no weapon at all! Neither at his belt nor on his back. No axe, no halberd, not even a pickaxe or hammer. However, judging by his calm demeanor, this dwarf didn't need a weapon to overpower me if necessary; he could simply snap my neck with his bare hands. The fact that he approached me without disturbing my Aura and that, even looking at him from such a close distance, I could not sense any signs of life in him, indicated that this dwarf was likely a Spirit Master. This roughly equated to at least the Emerald Rank of the Great Spiral.

Manifesting aggression towards such a being was very shortsighted, so, placing Striking Whisper behind my back, I bowed low, as a junior would to a senior.

"May the mountains forgive me for my disrespect," I said without straightening up.

"It is not fitting for one blessed by the Great Master to be leaping over rocks," the dwarf shook his head with evident disapproval.

'The Great Master'? If I wasn't mistaken, that's how the undermountain people referred to Ishid. The God of Rituals held special reverence among dwarves. It was he who supported them in their war against the Sidhe. Although the same Ishid later helped Obeorn create the ritual of Dark Rebirth, which turned the Sidhe into the bloodthirsty monsters they remained to this day.

Apparently, the dwarf noticed my Guild Sign, hence his words. I wouldn't call my status as the Sheriff of the Book a blessing; it was more of an additional burden and responsibility, but I had no intention of persuading him otherwise. Before I could respond, the dwarf turned and commanded:

"Follow me, both." Without waiting for our reaction, the armor-clad undermountain warrior began steadily ascending the slope.

Jumping off the boulder, I quietly hissed into the ear of the petrified Rikhard:

"You should have warned me!"

"Yes, I somehow didn't think…" the earthling began to justify himself, but I didn't listen, pushing him in the back.

"What, should I go too?" Rikhard asked with genuine fear.

"He clearly said 'both'," I replied, rolling my eyes.

The dwarf seemed completely indifferent to our bickering; he continued to walk steadily along the trail without looking back.

Grabbing my things, I quickly caught up to the Spirit Master and settled five paces behind him. Under our feet was a steep mountain path full of boulders, pebbles, and sand, yet the member of the undermaintain folk moved completely silently. He seemingly wasn't walking but gliding, like a mighty ship, leaving no trace even on the sand! And this despite the fact that his armor, made of plates about half a centimeter thick, weighed no less than a quintal. Yet the weight of the armor didn't seem to bother him at all; for him, it was like a second skin. Yes, at my Wootz rank, I could have donned something similar, but moving normally and especially fighting with such a burden on my shoulders – definitely not!

"And what is..." Rikhard caught up with me.

"Shut up," I admonished the earthling. "Just walk. Silently."

Dwarves didn't like verbosity; I "remembered" this and decided not to irritate the Spirit Master unnecessarily. I tried to mimic the dwarf's wide stride, but instead of making less noise, I only kicked even more stones.

We climbed the slope about two hundred meters, bypassed a stream, then turned around a large pile of boulders, behind which was a spring breaking through the rocks. Stopping by the clear water, the dwarf turned to me and ordered:

"Take it off."

Judging by the movement of his hand, he meant my armor. Not arguing, I unfastened my belt and pulled off my chainmail. Seeing the dwarf's furrowed brows, I realized it wasn't enough, so I took off my gambeson.

"Show."

His hand pointed to my stomach. Had he sensed the wound inflicted by a dwarf-forged weapon? An unpleasant chill ran down my spine, but I didn't dare argue and lifted my shirt.

"That too." A nod towards the sword wrapped in cloth.

Despite the fact that the dwarf was clad in heavy armor, it was clear I wouldn't outrun him. When necessary, in "combat acceleration," dwarves could run very fast. You wouldn't think so by looking at them, but they could. In the Last Cycle, I had witnessed something like this myself. So escaping wouldn't work. Trying not to show that I was nervous, I unwrapped the bundle and took a step to the side, allowing the dwarf to see the weapon. He cast a disapproving glance at Ridan's sword, grimaced, shook his head, and, with a jerk of his hand, ordered:

"Put away."

Was that all? I thought he'd just bury me right here, but no, apparently not this time. I quickly wrapped the People's Bane back in the cloth, barely hiding my relief.

"Lie down," the Spirit Master ordered.

What, right on the stones? Apparently, yes. Not risking an argument just as before, I lay on my back, hoping I had understood everything correctly. It seemed I guessed right. The dwarf ran his hand along his belt, and a pouch with some kind of potion appeared in his palm. Rubbing his hands with an ointment smelling of dried mushrooms, he sat next to me and placed his palms on my stomach.

It felt like I had been placed under a hydraulic press. And when he started rubbing the ointment into the wound, it seemed that my insides were about to pop out through my mouth. When the pressure and pain became almost unbearable, and tears welled up in my eyes, the dwarf stopped the torture. He stood up, lifting me as if I were a feather. And then, exhaling sharply, he abruptly struck my back with his steel palm! I nearly spit out my spine! I fell to my knees, started coughing, then even harder, and suddenly coughed up a bloody lump of mucus. And immediately felt much better! While I was recovering, the dwarf unceremoniously rummaged through my backpack, took out a regular Healing potion, and silently threw it to me. He waited for me to drink it, put the empty vial back where he had taken it from, and, having tied up the backpack, stood up, saying briefly:

"Wait."

Now, there was no doubt in my mind that, for some reason, the dwarf had decided to heal me. With each passing second, I felt better and better. The wound on my stomach had left only a thin scar, which would be gone by tomorrow. Without risking unnecessary movements, I watched as the dwarf, leaning over, lifted my chainmail with two fingers as if it were a rag. He shook it disdainfully, listened to the sound of the rings, and then looked at me with genuine puzzlement, as if asking, "How did anyone even think of putting on such crap?" I shrugged in response, but he didn't understand and just shook his head. About ten minutes later, the dwarf approached me:

"Stand up."

I obeyed. A sharp movement of his steel palms made everything inside me tighten, but this time, the touch of the undermountain master's hands was almost weightless. Nodding to himself, he turned away and commanded:

"Let's go."

Quickly throwing on my gambeson, I bent down for the chainmail and saw the dwarf's very displeased look.

"Better this protection than none," I said, and he just shrugged in response.

Let him think what he wants, I thought, as I donned my armor, which looked like a tattered piece of paper compared to the dwarf's. Not waiting for me to finish dressing, the Spirit Master started moving up the slope again.

"Do you understand anything?" Rikhard whispered to me.

"He needs something from us," I was sure of it, just as I was sure that we were safe as long as we followed the dwarf.

"You think so?"

"Let's go. He'll explain everything," I dismissed the earthling.

Ignoring Rikhard's further questions, I quickened my pace to catch up with the dwarf. The earthling hesitated for about ten seconds, then, quietly swearing, joined me.

The higher we climbed, the more stones, gravel, and remnants of broken blocks appeared under our feet. The path wound, bypassing numerous boulders the size of a barn and jagged rock outcrops. Another two hundred steps, a sharp turn, and I almost crashed into the dwarf's back, barely stopping in time. Before us was a breach in the rock. Once, it seemed, these were one of the gates to the ancient city, but now this place looked more like a gap into darkness. Moreover, this entrance was positioned in such a way that, because of the folds in the terrain and numerous rocks, it could only be noticed when you were almost right next to it. Running his hand over the stones, the dwarf turned to us. He looked us over as if seeing us for the first time, and his gaze lingered on my Guild Sign.

"Deal," said the dwarf. "Benefit. I help him," the massive finger of the undermountain dweller pointed at Rikhard. "You," the finger shifted to me, "help me."

'No way! Not a chance!' It was a good thing I had enough sense not to say this out loud. Instead, I bowed deeply and said:

"Thank you for your help and healing, senior. But my answer is no." Getting involved in a matter that a Spirit Master couldn't handle? I valued my life!

The dwarf's reaction was unexpected; it was as if he hit his head on an anvil. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, and his broad nose flared like a bull's.

"Help your kin," he said, but there was no trace of his former confidence in his voice.

"Master Baghtan!" Oh wow, it turned out Rikhard knew his name! If only he had enlightened me earlier! But no, he had talked about anything and everything except truly important matters. "We met for the first time today. Until this day, we didn't know each other. And yes, we are from the same people, but that means nothing! Raven has no obligations to me!" And now, surprisingly, he said the right things, which meant he did have brains after all!

Baghtan was not a personal name. It was a clan name. And I had heard of it somewhere before. That's right! In Ishid's chronicles. The favorite beer of the god of Rituals was called Baghtan. I didn't think it was a coincidence. This meant we had before us a representative of one of the oldest families of the undermountain people. Not from the royal line, of course, but among dwarves, the suffix "tan" didn't just appear in a family name for no reason. Unfortunately, I couldn't remember anything else, but even this much made me worry my refusal might come back to haunt me! An ally like this at the beginning of the Invasion would have been helpful! The dwarves fought fiercely back then, taking down thousands of demons, but they never joined us as a single front, nor did the Sidhe. I thought, maybe it's worth the risk? But it was also not wise to get involved in something so unclear.

"Senior." This time, I didn't bow but looked directly at him. "With all due respect to your clan, ancient as the mountains themselves, I am guided by the Road of Sundbad." After being accepted by the Crossroads and becoming, you could say, an instrument in the hands of the god of Paths, I felt fully justified in saying this. "And to stray from it, there must be a truly compelling reason."

The dwarf stared at me for a long time, then picked up a white stone and began drawing on the wall with it. Lines, strokes, within five minutes, it became clear that he was depicting a very rough map. Not even a map, just marking the levels. Finishing this, he struck the stone somewhere in the upper third of his drawing and looked at Rikhard:

"Seventh tier. You need to go here. I know the way. I need..." Another strike of the stone significantly lower. "Seventeenth tier." Another strike, drawing a line somewhere between the already marked points. "Here, between the tenth and twelfth, about fifty cycles ago, there was a passage. Now there's an ant nest across two levels." As if explaining everything he wanted, the dwarf clenched the stone in his palm and stared at us.

"Ant nest?" Rikhard bleated.

"These aren't ordinary ants," I explained.

"Malachite ones," the dwarf nodded.

"Ah?" The earthling seemed to have completely lost any understanding of what was happening.

Realizing that the dwarf had no intention of explaining further, I turned to Rikhard.

"Monsters. They resemble ants, hence the name. Only they're the size of a bull and very aggressive. A common worker is as strong as a Steel fighter. An ant-warrior is a tough opponent even for Wootz."

"So?" The earthling shifted his gaze from me to the dwarf and back again.

"So, there are hundreds of them in the ant nest, not to mention the princes and the queen. Moreover, Master Baghtan assigned two tiers to this ant nest, and you yourself mentioned the size of the city. There are not hundreds of those creatures, but thousands." I spread my hands. "It's hopeless. A raid of Legendary Coil is needed to break through them." I met the dwarf's gaze and added, "Forgive me, but such a feat is beyond my power."

"No need!" Another strike of the stone, clutched in the steel glove. "Here. The ninth tier. The small temple of Ishid. There's an elevator to the fifteenth. It's sealed. I can't open it. A priest is needed."

"But I'm not a priest!" I spread my hands.

"This," the heavy hand pressed against my Guild Sign, "will open it. You don't need to go there." A white line traced the scheme down to the lower tiers. "Open the Temple Gates, I'll go further alone."

"And if it doesn't open?" Rikhard spoke up.

At first, I thought the dwarf hadn't heard the question, but no, he slowly turned to the earthling, like an armored vehicle, measured him with a heavy gaze, and finally answered:

"Then I go further alone. You return."

"Alone, through the anthill? After everything both of you've told me about it?!" Rikhard was astonished.

The dwarf just shrugged. Meanwhile, I suddenly remembered where I had seen a helmet exactly like the one he was wearing. One of those earthlings who had told me about the expedition to Throne Peak had worn it. And he had found that helmet among some eggs. Back then, I didn't understand what it was about, being a little drunk, but now it seemed I did. So, in the Last Cycle, this dwarf had still tried to break through the ant nest! And, judging by the fact that later one of our people had sported his helmet, that expedition had ended disastrously for the Spirit Master. Essentially, we were talking to a dead man.

"Is there a functioning Altar in the temple?" I asked.

Descending to the ninth floor with such cover might not be so difficult after all. This once seemingly insane idea no longer appeared that way. And a prayer before an altar, to which no offerings had been made for hundreds of years – something interesting could be gained from such an act, especially for someone already marked by the will of Ishid.

"No. All altars were removed after the Great Quake. Those that weren't destroyed," the dwarf responded unusually verbosely.

Bad news. Then the risk wasn't worth it. Yes, the dwarf would clear the path on the way down, I had no doubt about that, but we would have to climb back up together with Rikhard, and that would be quite dangerous. Even if the curse on the earthling was lifted, he was still only Bronze, and his help would be minimal. We could, of course, wait for the dwarf's return at the Temple, but first, we needed to get there, which I wasn't sure of. And secondly, who knew how long his descent through the floors would take? It was also unclear whether he would return at all, even if he bypassed the ant nest. There were many threats deep down there that even a Spirit Master might not be able to handle.

"Can I repay the senior for the healing in some other way?" Weighing all the pros and cons, I decided to decline.

"Benefit?" A large ruby, worth no less than two thousand gold coins, appeared in the dwarf's palm.

"The dead don't need money." I shook my head.

"It looks expensive!" Rikhard exclaimed. "We could hire a squad!"

Honestly, I thought the dwarf would snap Rikhard's head off on the spot for that suggestion, but no, he restrained himself.

"Please forgive this junior," I forced the earthling to bow and bowed myself. "He is young and doesn't understand that under the sacred arches of the undermountain capital, there's no place for a large group of outsiders."

It seemed I'd found the right approach. The reddened dwarf took a step back and nodded in reconciliation. The ruby disappeared somewhere in his belt, and looking up at me, the Spirit Master said:

"Time. Tomorrow will be too late. Didn't find a way around. Searched. Long. Too long."

I caught a glimpse of Rikhard wanting to ask something, but I stepped on his foot just in time, and he swallowed the words already on the tip of his tongue.

"I have my own Path, senior. I don't want to go there and certainly not for money!"

I didn't even realize how the dwarf ended up right in front of me. He was standing five paces away just a moment ago, and now he was already close.

"Benefit. Yours. What is it?" The warrior clad in steel asked, drilling me with his gaze.

What did he mean? It wasn't very clear. Was he interested in what could buy me? Indeed, what could? I'd soon have armor that wouldn't be worse than what the master smiths of the undermountain folk could forge. Weapons? Striking Whisper would suffice for the entire Precious Coil, and beyond that, I'd find something better myself. Everything has a price, and so did I. Meeting the dwarf's gaze, I said:

"Training."

"Training?" He echoed.

The "Spirit Armor" was created by humans based on the spiritual practices of the dwarves. The human creation turned out to be almost half as strong as the original and still wasn't losing its usefulness even on the Legendary Coil of the Great Spiral. But the dwarves didn't teach their practices to outsiders. Never... or rather, almost never. After all, they taught Evelan and Jegur in ancient times.

"Teach me the 'Spirit Armor' forged on the Great Anvil."

A foreign hand gripped my neck. I didn't even try to breathe; it was useless. This went on for a minute, and all that time, my life hung by a thread. Suddenly, the dwarf released me and began to laugh, as if someone had poured rocks into a barrel and started shaking it.

"Human..." After laughing, the dwarf took off his right glove and offered me his broad, shovel-like hand. "Deal?"

What was the catch? Why did he agree so quickly? And his eyes... he could barely hold back his laughter.

"Deal!"

I might not get another chance like this, so I shook his cold, as if hewn from marble hand. Squeezing my palm like a vice, the dwarf said:

"You have until the rise of the Night Mistress."

"Agreed," I replied.

"In the name of Ishid."

"In the name of Ishid," I echoed after the dwarf.

Letting go of my hand, the dwarf turned to Rikhard:

"Come at Seguna's rise. With the flower." A wave of his hand. "Leave."

With my eyes and gestures, I showed the earthling to return to his camp. To my relief, he understood, nodded like a bobblehead, and, with a foolish smile, vanished as if he had never been there.

"Why?" I asked, still amazed by the dwarf's agreement.

"Everything's fair." He smiled, and this smile reminded me a lot of those I had seen from used car dealers. "I will teach. But…"

"But…"

"Humans cannot grasp the Spiritual Fire of the Great Anvil. But. You. Can. Try." And again that laughter, like stones rolling in a barrel.

"Evalan managed," I responded.

Suddenly serious, the dwarf measured me with a look as if I were some kind of bug.

"Is your father Eyrat, Creator of the Firmament?" he asked.

"No." I wasn't from this world at all, but of course, I kept that to myself.

"Then. You. Can. Try." The Spirit Master smiled.

So, that was why he agreed so easily. Myths and legends lied; dwarves did not hide their practices, it was humans who were incapable of mastering them because they belonged to a different species! Over the centuries, this truth had simply been buried under a veil of tales.

"I'm. Even. Curious." And removing his second glove, the dwarf commanded, "Sit. Back to the rock." Taking some ointment from his belt, he began rubbing his palms, not taking his eyes off me. "Achievements. Show. Them. All."

After fifteen minutes, the dwarf was no longer smiling, only his right eye twitched slightly. And when I visualized the "Catalyst" as the last Achievement, granting me the Perfect Core, his previously red face turned as white as a sheet of paper...