“What a beauty!” Valm exclaimed.

  Everyone lifted their heads and stared at the sky for a while. That lilac glow truly transformed the landscape into something strange, fundamentally different from the surface the human eye was accustomed to.

  “First time in a dungeon?” Jungo asked him.

  “Yes. Although I’ve read a lot about them, what I see now… It’s nothing like what’s described in books.”

  “To be honest, Tiktak is nothing like the others because of these seals…”

  “Enough chatting, let’s go!” Ladbor interrupted them.

  Jungo gave the alchemist an apologetic smile and hurried forward to take his position in the second row of their formation. Valm also took his place among the mages.

  The descent was difficult. There was no proper road, just a path winding between frequent small rocks on its way down. The alchemist immediately thought that the way back would be much harder.

  From time to time, the warriors sent out heavy waves of their aura around the group to drive away the rare monsters lurking along the path. Valm used his absolute sense of smell to its fullest to create the most accurate picture of Tiktak in his mind. His receptors often caught the scents of medicinal plants that were either very rare on the surface or didn’t grow there at all. And this was just the first level! What irony! If only the alchemist had free access to all these freshest ingredients, what pills could he create? What heights could his alchemy reach?

  A sharp pang of regret and resentment, like in childhood, filled Valm as he realized he lacked the strength to explore dungeons on his own whenever he pleased. He looked at the broad backs of the warriors ahead, who hadn’t even broken a sweat during the arduous descent, and envied them. Even though he had become one of the best alchemists on the continent, was that truly what he had always desired?

  He watched with sorrow as Malik’s boot crushed a Silver Horn, a second-class plant used to make fifth-class healing pills.

  Brainless brutes… All they know is how to swing their weapons… Why couldn’t he have their strength along with his intellect?

  His concern for the precious ingredients was interrupted by the heavy breathing of the mages. Already? So soon? They had only been descending for an hour!

  “Ladbor!” Tani called out. “We need to rest!”

  Valm couldn’t see Ladbor’s face, but even from behind, his displeasure was obvious.

  “Break for twenty minutes!” he commanded loudly.

  The alchemist, who easily endured the descent thanks to his training, looked at the sweaty mages who immediately sat down on the ground and said he would gather herbs nearby.

  “Malik! Go with him!” the squad captain ordered.

  The adventurer showed no sign of displeasure and approached Valm. Thanks to his strength, he could keep up this pace around the clock without feeling tired.

  “Master Valm, are there really alchemy herbs here? So close to the entrance?” he asked in surprise.

  “You crushed a Silver Horn with your boot a few minutes ago, so I’m sure there’s plenty to find.”

  “Is it expensive?”

  “The Alchemist Guild would pay a gold coin for it easily…”

  “Damn!” Malik looked at the sole of his boot as if expecting gold to be stuck to it. But there wasn’t even any dirt.

  “Nothing to be done now. Let’s go!” Valm called out.

  He moved slightly off the path, down the slope, where a light breeze carried the scents of several familiar plants to him. And indeed, fifty meters away, small blue flowers had sprouted from under a large boulder.

  Valm smiled, crouched down, and pulled out a wide knife, beginning to dig the fine gravel around the flowers’ roots.

  “Did you find something interesting?” Malik asked.

  “Yes, this flower is called Gornok. The petals are used to make third-class stamina potions, but the root… The root makes a pretty potent poison. It acts instantly and, if you add a few more ingredients, is completely painless for the victim.”

  “And… if you don’t add them?”

  “Have you ever drunk burning oil, Malik?”

  “No, of course not!”

  “People poisoned by this root often said they’d rather drink it than die like that.”

  The adventurer swallowed, imagining the pain.

  “Don’t worry,” Valm reassured him. “For someone of your strength, it’s almost harmless. At worst, you’d vomit for a couple of days.”

  The alchemist stored the flowers away and saw from the adventurer’s expression that his words hadn’t been very reassuring.

  “Master Valm, so you can make poisons too?”

  “Damn it, Malik, you sound like a child. Many alchemists can make both medicines and poisons. In general, I’d say they’re two sides of the same coin. Any medicine can become a poison, just as any poison can become a cure. Especially if you look at it from a philosophical—or a cannibalistic—point of view…”

  Malik didn’t understand the alchemist’s last remark. But few would, without knowing that Valm had been a student of the Toxic Dragon—the imperial court’s most notorious cannibal.

  Suddenly, a breeze carried the scent of rotting flesh to Valm’s nose. He thought for a moment and decided to check it out.

  It was the corpse of a pamlak, which was quite surprising since the mountains weren’t a habitat for these monsters.

  “It’s just a dead pamlak, Master Valm, nothing interesting.”

  “You think so? I wouldn’t say that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, first of all, pamlaks live in forested areas, not mountains, because their limbs simply aren’t built for this terrain. Someone must have driven it up here from below. And second, judging by the sword wounds on the carcass, that someone was an unskilled novice who was just toying with it.”

  “How did you figure that out?”

  “Tell me, how would you kill such a monster?”

  “I’d just hit it with the edge of my shield…”

  “Exactly. One strike. Even the weakest adventurer can kill it in two or three hits at most. Now look at these chaotic and shallow wounds on the carcass. The strikes were just meant to cause pain.”

  “But that doesn’t prove it was just for fun.”

  “The core, Malik. The killer didn’t take the core. Even though it’s only worth five silver, an adventurer who came into the dungeon for money would never waste a few extra seconds to take it. No, whoever did this drove the creature up here from the mountain’s base just for amusement.

  “And judging by the wounds, I can say he was about a meter seventy to a meter seventy-five tall—it’s clear from the angle of the strikes. Armed with a thin, one-handed sword, but not a rapier. More likely a ceremonial sword rather than a proper weapon for hunting monsters. And he’s not cruel, no… He just thinks he is. He’s a little unhinged, but he only believes himself to be ruthless!”

  Malik mentally took off his hat. He was an experienced adventurer, but he would never have noticed the details the alchemist had just pointed out.

  “Ah, to hell with him, Master Valm. Dungeons are full of all kinds of fools. Don’t worry about it, the Silver Dragons will protect you from both monsters and idiots!”

  Valm burst into laughter.

  “Thank you, Malik!”

  He kept silent about the fact that, after spending several years in the empire’s capital, he had already seen enough aristocrats’ and wealthy men’s children who ventured into dungeons purely for such entertainment. And he had learned how to defend himself from such brats. The adventurer glanced toward where their team had remained.

  “Sir Valm, the break is over, they’ve already moved on.”

  The alchemist shrugged.

  “They’ll be walking this same path anyway, so they’ll catch up with us eventually.”

  After all, he was the one paying the Silver Dragons. And if he wanted to collect ingredients, then he would do just that. So, he did. Valm walked with Malik, gathering herbs, while the squad slowly advanced along the path. This continued until evening, which, by the way, was vastly different from what the alchemist was used to on the surface.

  Here, the sun didn’t set beyond the horizon like it did above. Instead, it seemed to pass through some kind of barrier, resembling a film, becoming hazy before gradually fading. But true darkness never came. The lavender light from the massive magical seal overhead, without the sun’s rays, seemed even brighter, filling the dungeon with a gentle glow.

  At the foot of the mountains, Ladbor announced a stop for the night. The mages, exhausted from hours of marching, collapsed onto the ground and immediately fell asleep. Valm, who had walked much farther, also felt his legs aching. Yet, despite his fatigue, he sat down to prepare dinner. And suddenly, he caught himself thinking that he liked it here.

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  Even the distant growls of monsters, occasionally breaking the silence, didn’t frighten him. This world, under the magical seal in the sky, looked like something out of a fairy tale.

  He was quickly frying vegetables, diced into small cubes, when Skrait got to his feet and raised his shield.

  “We’re not alone,” he said briefly.

  Valm didn’t know what to do in such situations, so he simply continued cooking. Malik stood next to Skrait, also setting his heavy shield on the ground. But no matter how hard the alchemist stared in the direction where the adventurers’ eyes were fixed, he still saw nothing. Pram silently leaped onto a tall, sprawling tree near the camp and readied his bow. Ladbor stepped forward.

  “If you’re just passing through, then go on your way, no need to disturb us,” he shouted.

  Ten minutes later, a group of two dozen adventurers approached the camp. But on the faces of the Silver Dragons, the alchemist noticed no sign of concern. That was good. It meant that this group was much weaker than theirs.

  “Apologies, gentlemen!” one of them called out. “We’re just heading back up and suddenly sensed strong auras along the way. We didn’t realize you were simply camping here. We’ll just pass by so as not to bother you!”

  “Go ahead,” Ladbor ordered curtly. “What level are you coming from?”

  “The fourth.”

  “How is it down there now?”

  “Quiet. With the strength of your squad, you definitely have nothing to worry about.”

  Valm watched as the other team cautiously walked along the path past their camp, heading in the direction from which the Silver Dragons had come. They looked visibly weary, but all were unharmed, with only a few bearing signs of battle on their armor. Well, perhaps the lower levels were truly calm.

  Skrait spat loudly on the ground as they passed.

  “Damn it, as if there are no other paths here…”

  “What do you mean, Skrait?” the alchemist asked.

  The warrior put away his shield and sat next to Valm.

  “In dungeons, approaching other teams is considered bad manners. In such cases, it’s generally assumed that, at the very least, they want to take your loot, and at worst—your life.”

  “Strange. And what, the Adventurers’ Guild doesn’t regulate this in any way?”

  “What happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon, Sir Valm.”

  In short, adventurers here behaved like common bandits. The alchemist shook his head in disapproval, carefully watching the meat simmering in the pot. Pram sat down next to them, followed shortly by the others. Even Ladbor. Except, of course, for the mages, who weren’t roused even by the divine aroma of meat stewed with vegetables.

  But in the end, with the warriors’ appetites, nothing would have been left for them anyway—the pot was emptied within minutes.

  “Ah, Sir Valm, if you weren’t such a distinguished alchemist, I would’ve asked you to join our team three days ago. I’ve never eaten anything better in my life,” Malik said with a sigh.

  “If I weren’t such a distinguished alchemist, as you say, my cooking wouldn’t be nearly as good either.”

  Everyone laughed at that. Though Valm’s words were not far from the truth.

  After dinner, the alchemist lay on his back for a while, examining the intricate details of the lavender seal. It was reflected in his amber eyes.

  Who had created it? Or what?

  Valm had seen what the archmages of this continent were capable of and was certain this was far beyond their abilities.

  Perhaps there was a Law here as well, something like the Law he himself was an unwilling stepchild of?

  And without realizing it, he fell asleep, pondering that question.

  By morning, Ladbor woke them up and ordered them to pack up. The groggy mages immediately drank recovery potions, as the short sleep was not enough to rid them of the fatigue from yesterday’s journey. Valm also felt his legs still aching, so he pulled out a vial and took a small sip of the potion.

  The local sun, now from the east, broke through the barrier and bathed the forest’s edge, where the camp was located, in bright rays. Valm got to his feet and did a few light jumps on the spot to shake off the drowsiness completely.

  “Form up and move out!” the squad captain shouted. “Today, we need to get past that forest ahead, so no distractions!”

  As he said this, he glanced toward the alchemist.

  Was this an attempt to assert his authority?

  Valm mentally shrugged—he hadn’t intended to stop collecting ingredients if they happened to be along the way. And for protection on the first dungeon level, Malik alone would be enough for him.

  “Let’s move ahead, Malik,” he ordered the adventurer.

  The man hesitated, glancing between Ladbor and the alchemist, unsure of what to do. One was the captain, the other their employer.

  Ladbor curled his lips.

  “Go with him. But make sure you don’t fall behind.”

  Valm smiled triumphantly and was the first to step into the thicket. His nose had already distinguished numerous interesting scents among the smells of decaying leaves. But within a few minutes, the alchemist realized he had underestimated this forest. From the outside, it had seemed sparse enough to walk through freely, but that turned out to be far from the case. A thick layer of leaves on the ground, tree roots sneakily protruding in loops, thorny bushes, and vines made the trek not impossible but certainly challenging.

  Valm cut a mushroom from the trunk of an old tree, its surface covered with a thin layer of blue mist, and stored it away. A better ingredient for a sleeping draught or painkiller would be hard to find. A pity there was only one on the tree.

  “Master Valm, the squad has already moved quite far ahead…”

  “Alright, let’s pick up the pace. I promise to stop only if I find something truly interesting.”

  And though he made that promise sincerely, there turned out to be so much of interest that they only caught up with their squad when Ladbor halted the Silver Dragons for a lunch break. Valm didn’t stop, continuing ahead while stuffing some kind of pie into his mouth. Since Malik had no choice but to follow him, he was fed in the same manner.

  “Malik, how long until we reach the transition to the second level?”

  “Beyond this forest, there’s a forest-steppe, then open steppe. And past that is the transition itself. If Ladbor keeps the team’s current pace, we should reach it in three days.”

  “And each subsequent level will be a copy of the previous one?”

  “Yes and no at the same time. The natural zones will remain the same, but the distances will increase since each lower level is larger than the one before.”

  “How much larger?”

  “It varies. Sometimes by ten percent, sometimes by thirty…”

  Valm imagined the dungeon as a bottle, its walls expanding unevenly but continuously towards the bottom. The thought unsettled him so much that he even stopped walking.

  “So, to reach the seventh level, we’ll be traveling for more than a month?”

  “About that, Master Valm. Certainly no less.”

  Valm sighed. The time he had originally planned for the raid was stretching further and further. Under ideal conditions, he would need at least two months to study all fourth-class monsters. A month to descend. Even longer to ascend, since they would be climbing the entire way… He had told Qian to wait for him in four months. And Valm had no idea how to speed things up. No transport could traverse these paths. Unless he put the mages on the warriors’ backs and made them run.

  The thought made Valm chuckle. The arrogant mages would never agree to such a thing. Damn it, and he was paying each of them thirty-five gold a day just for slowly moving their feet through the dungeon! But he couldn’t dismiss the mages either—he needed their mana shields to capture fourth-class monsters alive. So his only choice was to keep paying.

  “To hell with the money!” he decided philosophically. At least he had time to gather ingredients. Though most of what he found now was second- and occasionally third-class, deeper levels might yield higher-class materials. So Valm shoved those concerns aside and immersed himself entirely in the scents his sensitive nose detected.

  By sunset, the Silver Dragons had not yet emerged from the forest, but Ladbor decided against setting up camp and led the squad onward for a few more hours under the lilac glow of the magical seal in the sky. The scenery looked so enchanting that even Valm stopped collecting and walked quietly with the team, admiring the path on either side.

  And as endless as the forest had seemed throughout the day, the trees finally parted, revealing low, grass-covered hills. Tall trees continued to grow only in the valleys between them.

  “That’s enough for today. Camp!” Ladbor commanded loudly.

  Even Valm was exhausted from the trek, so after hastily dining on a prepared restaurant meal, he went to sleep under the reproachful gaze of five pairs of eyes.

  “We’re stuck with salted meat, folks…” Pram said mournfully as he sat down by the fire.

  Traveling through the forest-steppe was much easier, and Valm thought that even his capsule might be able to move slowly here. He was just about to suggest this to Ladbor when the squad’s path was suddenly blocked by a narrow but deep ravine. Damn it, that thing hadn’t even been visible a few dozen meters back.

  The warriors took turns carrying the mages across before reforming into marching order and moving on—only to encounter another similar ravine a couple of kilometers later. No, there was no way to use a vehicle here. Valm sighed in disappointment and silently continued on with the team.

  By evening, the hills began to fade, giving way to an endless steppe covered in tall grasses and flowers. There, Ladbor called for the night’s camp. Today had been an easy day, and Valm didn’t feel like going to sleep under those resentful stares again, so he pulled out his cauldrons. That alone lifted everyone’s spirits.

  Noticing that the mages were also making no effort to sleep, or even showing any intention of doing so, the alchemist pulled out a third cauldron—two wouldn’t be enough for everyone. For a few moments, he pondered what he wanted for dinner, and then a sly smile spread across his lips.

  He began rapidly pulling ingredients from his storage: a massive slab of beef, bacon, a sizable barrel of red wine, carrots, onions, garlic, flour, oil, and a heap of spices. Lastly, he retrieved a giant red mushroom, nearly half a meter in diameter, which he had found in the forest the day before. Just as he was about to start cooking, he noticed nine pairs of hungry eyes watching him.

  “Junga, they say you’re the best with knives in this squad?” Valm asked. “Cut the beef into cubes two fingers wide, the bacon into cubes one finger wide. Got it?”

  “Yes, Master Valm!”

  “Start with the bacon. Then the beef. After that, I need the carrots sliced into thin rounds, about two millimeters thick, and the onions cut into half-rings of the same thickness. Can you manage?”

  Junga unsheathed two massive knives and grinned, revealing strong white teeth. The moment the bacon was cut, it went straight into the cauldron to fry until golden brown. Meanwhile, Valm patted the beef dry with paper napkins and seasoned it generously with salt and pepper.

  Seeing that the rendered bacon fat was insufficient, he simply added a generous amount of olive oil and began searing the beef in batches, removing it as soon as a golden crust formed. The vegetables were cooked last.

  Dividing the seared meat and bacon evenly between three cauldrons, he added flour and fried it for a few minutes, stirring thoroughly. When that was done, he added spices and poured in enough wine to fully submerge the meat. Stowing away the now nearly empty barrel, he covered the cauldrons, set the temperature and pressure on their alchemical valves, and waited.

  Before long, an aroma filled the camp that made everyone’s mouths water—even Valm’s. Steam hissed from the valves, creating a mist that enveloped the surroundings, while nine pairs of hungry eyes never left the cauldrons. But one thing still unsettled the squad—the large red mushroom that remained untouched on the table.

  “Now, I need everyone to step back at least thirty meters unless you want to be covered in sores!” Valm called out.

  No one questioned or doubted his warning; the nine adventurers quickly scattered around the camp. The alchemist took out a vial of clear liquid, drank it, waited a few minutes, and nodded to himself in satisfaction.

  Then, with incredible speed, he sliced the red mushroom into thin strips, pink juice seeping from each cut. He had to use his spiritual energy to envelop each strip separately, preventing the juice from evaporating.

  When he was done, Valm unlatched the cauldron lids with a single motion, releasing fragrant steam into the night sky, and tossed the mushroom evenly into the dishes. After resealing the cauldrons, he stepped back and sat down, closing his eyes. The most delicate phase of cooking remained—one requiring absolute control.

  This was no longer mere cooking. Using his spiritual energy, Valm began to break down the beef fibers, saturating the meat cubes with a perfect blend of mushroom juice, wine, and bacon fat. He was so absorbed in the process that he forgot to tell everyone they could return.

  Half an hour later, he opened his eyes and looked around.

  “Why are you all still over there?” he asked, surprised.

  “Well, Master Valm, you did say something about sores…” Ladbor scratched his head. Even from this distance, he could smell the divine aroma, torn between Valm’s warning and his own senses.

  “That was only while I was cutting the mushroom. The steam from its juice is highly toxic. You need special skills to handle it.”

  “And what’s in those cauldrons is actually edible?” Pram asked hesitantly.

  “If you don’t want any, don’t eat. More for me,” Valm said, grabbing a bowl and serving himself a generous portion.

  No, what the adventurers had smelled before the alchemist opened the cauldrons was not the true scent of the dish. Now, upon actually smelling it, even the most hesitant ones cast aside their doubts and rushed forward, pulling out deep bowls as they ran.

  Once the alchemical cauldrons were emptied and everyone sat around the fire, savoring the meat, the warriors began turning their heads and listening intently, one after another.

  “Incredible… Even the damn monsters have gathered just to get a whiff of this!” Ladbor growled, spreading waves of his aura around the camp.