The path ahead of him was shrouded by darkness and even he could barely see buildings carved in stones on it's sides. It resembled an opened giant's mouth with houses as it's teeth and the street it's tongue and the further you ventured the closer you were getting to your demise. Arath walked forward with his hand on the grip and eyes carefully scanning every inch of his surroundings. Whenever someone noticed him he recieved an unpleasant glare, yet Arath decided to not owe anybody anything so he glared back with murderous intent beaming from his eyes.

In this very sombre atmosphere weighting in the air he finally reached his destination - market place. The place was oval-shaped with a giant stalagmite in the very middle of it and many shop stalls around it. The stalagmite was still covered by decorations from the time of The Ritual and form many hole on it's surface shone a bright blue light making the whole place well-lit. Arath's goal was in one of the stalls run by an elderly woman. She owned two shops - one with weapons and armor for Dungeon Lurkers and the other on with all kinds of garbage and loot found throughout many years in different layers of the dungeon.

"Welcome, welcome. Come inside and find something for yourself!" The woman energetically stood up when she noticed someone entering the shop.

"I hope so, I need a ton of things. I also have some stuff to sell." He said trying to hide his smile.

"Arath?! Arath, my boy is that you?" She could no longer hide her excitement and rushed to greet the young man. "You were gone for so long I thought you weren't coming back!" The two hugged each other tightly enjoying the moment.

"Who is that man, aunt?" A young girl was standing behind a pillar peeking nervously.

"This gentleman you see here, dear, is my dear friend Arath. We are the only survivors from the Antonio Plague from the main street. He hid most of the time in a hole next to my store occasionaly stealing my last food reserves. Once, I caught him and gave him the beating of his life. Then I took pity on him and decided to help him, so I took him in."

Arath came closer to the girl and asked "And what is your name young lady?"

"I'm Clementine!" She said puffing her chest. "And I'm eight and a half years old!"

"Clem, go to the back and finish your dinner before it gets cold."

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"But aunt Ruby, it's dark there."

"Stop complaining and go, aunt has business to do." Ruby commanded and turned back to Arath. "So what have you got for me this time?"

"Hmm, where to begin?" He started to unpack his bag and put the valuables on a table. "Three moonstones, one orichalcum nugget and a few mushrooms. I haven't took a closer look at them so you will have to give them a price. Oh, and some monster fangs and claws." While saying the last part he unpacked a huge piece of cloth and uncovered dozens if not hundreds of animal teeth.

"Now that's what I call a lucky hunt! My last few patrons couldn't find anything more than some bones and red mushrooms." Ruby said excitedly rubbing her hands. "I can give you, let's say 80 denars and one thing you pick from ware as we agreed.

When they lived under on roof in the past thinking if they would survive the next day they decided to strike a deal. If they survived and Arath became Dungeon Lurker or maybe even a scout in the dungeon ruby would have priority in purchasing the goods. In exchange Arath would receive a single item from her warehouse everytime they made a deal above 50 denars. It was a great deal for both of them, at least in their opinions, and were very happy with it.

They chatted and enjoyed the rare time they could spend in each other's presence, while walking down the aisle in the shop. Arath looked at every item with great interest trying to pick just one. After few steps his attention was picked by a notebook. It was dusty, had it's sides burned and generally looked quite old. Without thinking he grabbed it and started to browse it's content. It looked like a journal written in an unknown to most language. Fortunately Arath immediately recognised it to be one of languages used by the heroes. Interestingly heroes spoke the same language as everyone, but the way they wrote was completely different and unrecognisable. Only few of the people born in the Tower could read it. For some reason in his early years an old man that took care for him before the Plague made sure Arath could read it. No one understood why or even how it was possible that the old man could read it himself, but thanks to that the now 17 years-old man had no problem understanding the journal's content.

"Ruby, where did you get that from?"

"I don't really remember. It happened few weeks ago. Some weirdo came in here and said he would sell it claiming he found it in the Old Town. Why do you ask?"

"So you don't know what it is?"

"No. Can you tell me already? I'm getiing all anxious now"

"From what I've managed to read it is a hero's journal describing the upper floors"

"WHAT?! Oh fuck. Weren't they all confiscated by The Council? I thought owning one was illegal."

"It is. If you were caught with it you wouldn't be easily let off. They say having any written information on the dungeon is 'witholding the information crucial for our survival from the society'. You would be lucky if they only threw you in prison."

"So what are we going to do with that Arath? Should we go to The Council and give it to them?"

"No. I have something better in mind."

"What?"

"I'll be taking this as a part of the deal."