The conversation after the morning skirmish wasn’t flowing well, so Valm sat silently with his eyes closed until Kaira addressed him with a question.

  “Master Alchemist, could you explain what’s better for people—your potions or support mages’ magic, like mine?”

  Valm opened his eyes, trying to determine whether she was mocking him. But it didn’t seem like it.

  “That’s actually a rather complex question with several layers of answers. But I’ll try to explain, and you can decide for yourself which is better. First, your support magic doesn’t work the same way on mages and warriors, even though you use the same type of spells. With mages, you simply transfer your pure mana—that’s straightforward. But with warriors, you only stimulate their muscles and nerve endings, allowing them to keep fighting even when exhausted. And while your enhancement is painless for mages, for warriors, it’s quite the opposite. Eventually, they experience backlash from your spell because all that enhancement is drawn from their own internal resources. Second, the number of times you can use your enhancement is limited—not only by the depletion of the support mage’s mana but also by the internal safeguards in the warriors’ bodies.

  “Alchemists, when creating their potions, took a different approach. They made specific formulas for their needs. For mages—mana restoration potions, potions that stimulate magical circles, and so on. For warriors—restorative potions, strength potions, agility potions… too many to list. And potions, if chosen correctly, hardly have the same backlash effect. Their only downside is their lower efficiency compared to support spells and something we alchemists call saturation—when taking more potions in a short period no longer has any effect. But these drawbacks don’t apply to high-tier alchemical pills. Their only drawback is their price. So, that’s about it. What’s better? That’s for you to decide.”

  By the end of his explanation, all the mages were listening to Valm.

  “Master Valm,” Kaira began hesitantly, “I’ve heard that the Empire’s alchemists have created pills for mages that can raise their level. Is that true?”

  “It can be considered partially true.”

  The mages looked at the alchemist intently, waiting for an explanation, as they didn’t understand what he meant by “partially true.”

  “The thing is, creating a new magical circle around a mage’s heart is nothing like transforming a warrior’s body. It’s more related to the mind, consciousness, and even the mage’s soul. And these aspects are so delicate that the consequences of interference are nearly unpredictable. There are indeed pills that help a mage form a new circle. According to those who manufacture them, they expand consciousness, plunging the mage into a trance through hallucinations, where they can choose the right path. Or maybe not—and remain forever trapped in illusions. Simply put, they go mad. Lose their mind. That’s why I wouldn’t recommend taking such pills. Even the Imperial Court forbids its mages from using them due to the high risk of failure.”

  The mages were disappointed by Valm’s words. Each of them wanted to believe that somewhere, there was a magical pill that could make them stronger.

  “But,” the alchemist smirked at them, “that doesn’t mean there aren’t other, more indirect means. Simple fifth-class mana circle expansion pills. With regular consumption, existing mana circles reach their full potential, and a mage’s mind almost always forms a new one.”

  “Oh, I see,” Nonk interrupted him, “but I’ve never heard of such pills…”

  The alchemist pulled a small cylindrical case from his storage and poured out two yellow-orange pills. The wagon filled with a sweet and sour aroma.

  “Here they are. I believe you can buy or order them from the Merchant Guild or the Alchemists’ Guild. Just ask them.”

  “Wow! And how many would, say, a fifth-circle water mage need? And how much do they cost?”

  Valm put the pills away and thought for a moment before answering. He didn’t want to be bothered with unnecessary requests.

  “The number varies for each mage—I can’t tell for sure without running a bunch of tests. It could be anywhere from a few pills to a hundred… As for the price, a few years ago, they were selling for four to five hundred gold per pill.”

  Valm lied. He could easily determine the required number of pills just by looking at a mage’s mana circle projection, down to a few pills’ accuracy.

  Tani clicked her tongue and shook her head.

  “Those pills aren’t cheap…” she said. “Even if the average needed is fifty, that’s already twenty to twenty-five thousand gold.”

  Valm shrugged.

  “If a mage brings the necessary ingredients to an alchemist, the price drops by half. But buying them yourself isn’t a great idea—alchemists buy them in bulk at discounted rates. Unless you gather the ingredients yourself in dungeon raids.”

  The mages exchanged glances instantly. Damn, where were they headed for several months? At the same time, a fire of excitement ignited in their eyes.

  “Master Valm!” For the first time, Kaira’s voice carried emotion. “Do you happen to have a list of the required ingredients?!”

  The alchemist laughed.

  “I don’t have a list, but it’s not hard to write one down when you have the recipe in your head… Give me a piece of paper and a stylus.”

  The fifth-class mana circle expansion pill wasn’t complicated and contained only thirty-two ingredients. So, after quickly compiling a list with the required quantities per pill, he handed the sheet to Kaira. Four pairs of eyes eagerly scanned the list, but confusion quickly spread across their faces.

  “This is kind of…” Turan hesitated. “I only recognize a few plants on this list… Are these some rare herbs?”

  “Not at all, they’re quite common. About a third of them even grow on the surface.”

  The alchemist actually enjoyed watching them. The arrogant mages now looked like schoolchildren who hadn’t done their homework. Valm closed his eyes and pretended to doze off, but in reality, he was listening to their hushed conversation. By giving them something resembling hope with his list, he had actually backed them into a corner.

  “Damn it, that Crazy Bitch used to do the same thing to me all the time,” he thought.

  Ladbor stopped the group for the night in a small clearing in the middle of the forest. Even though the sun was still high, he ordered them to set up camp. This decision slightly surprised and even irritated Valm, as he thought they were wasting time. But he didn’t argue.

  He sat apart from the others and took out his cooking utensils and two alchemical cauldrons from his storage. Since he had a few free hours, why not prepare some food for the next few days?

  First, he sliced the beef into thin strips across the grain, then used the flat side of a heavy kitchen knife to tenderize it. After greasing one of the cauldrons with oil, he began frying the strips in small batches until golden brown, ensuring they didn’t start stewing. The cooked meat was immediately transferred to the second, only mildly warm, cauldron.

  Once the meat was done, he sliced several large onions into half-rings and sautéed them in the same oil until soft. Then he added half a cup of flour, stirred, and fried it for another minute before pouring in nearly a liter of sour cream without hesitation. He kept stirring constantly to prevent lumps until the mixture in the cauldron started to boil.

  The delicious aroma spread over the clearing, and before long, the Silver Dragons’ warriors began circling Valm in uneven loops. The first to sit nearby was the burly Skrite.

  “You can cook, Master Valm?” he asked, almost surprised. “And not like a simple tavern cook, judging by the smell…”

  “It’s not surprising. Knowing how to combine ingredients properly is the essence of an alchemist’s skill. And there aren’t that many here, as you can see.”

  With these words, Valm emptied the meat from the second cauldron into the first, closed the lid, and set the correct pressure on the working valve.

  “Don’t say that, Master Valm. We cook too, but compared to you…”

  After waiting ten minutes, the alchemist removed the lid and began adding spices. Once that was done, he tossed in a few medicinal herbs, then closed the cauldron again and lowered the heat.

  “Maybe it’s just that I have more experience…”

  The aroma escaping from the working valve along with the steam made everyone in the clearing double over from sheer hunger. Three more warriors sat down next to Skrite, whom he introduced to Valm.

  “Malik, like me, defense, rank B. Junga, attack and close combat, rank B. And Phram, our archer, rank B.”

  Each of them raised a hand at the mention of their name. Damn, Ladbor had really assembled quite a solid team for this kingdom. Nine B-rankers were a formidable force…

  Valm turned off the heat completely and waited for a bit. But as life had already shown him, hoping they would leave was futile. The alchemist sighed, pulled out a large loaf of bread, a plate, and opened the cauldron.

  “Join in,” he offered, seeing no other way out.

  The warriors grinned broadly and pulled out deep bowls. A full alchemical cauldron, which would have lasted Valm several days, was emptied in a minute. The warriors were certainly not shy. The clearing filled with the clatter of spoons against metal bowls.

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  Nearby, the redheaded Nonk casually approached, but upon seeing the empty cauldron, he sighed bitterly and walked away.

  After finishing his meal, Valm poured water into the cauldron and began washing it.

  “Let me do it, Master Valm!” Malik offered.

  The alchemist just shook his head with a smile.

  “Sorry, but I’ll do it myself. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but an alchemical cauldron needs special cleaning—it’s not an ordinary pot.”

  “Ah, I see…”

  “Guys, did you notice? The meat wasn’t just regular meat,” Phram suddenly said. “All my fatigue is gone, but my body still feels relaxed. Master Valm, was there something else in there besides regular spices?”

  “You’re sharp! Yes, I threw in a few tonic herbs. I always do that when I cook dinner. Helps you sleep better. So, off you go, I’m heading to bed…”

  Valm packed up his cauldrons and cooking tools and went to the wagon, leaving the warriors behind. He caught the end of their conversation, where they were trying to figure out how to handle night watches now.

  “You shouldn’t just shove anything that smells good into your mouth,” he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, the alchemist was the first to wake up. Only Malik was on watch, sitting next to the almost extinguished campfire.

  “Morning, Malik!” Valm greeted him. “Do you happen to know how much farther we have to Tiktak?”

  “Good morning, Master Valm. I’d say about two and a half more days.”

  “Thanks.”

  The alchemist stripped off his outer clothing and started running. Two days. Just two more days, and he would descend into a dungeon for the first time in his life. The thought sent a thrill through his body.

  A place not meant for long-term human habitation. And it wasn’t just about the monsters that could kill him, but the very mana filling the dungeon. The mana of the monsters.

  That mana negatively affected human bodies, and at high concentrations—like in the deeper levels—it could even slowly destroy them. Where they were going, the concentration wasn’t dangerously high, and nothing critical would happen in three to four months of exposure. But Valm had still prepared a few detoxification pills for himself. Just in case.

  Judging that he had run far enough, the alchemist turned back toward the camp. And… Fourth-class monsters. He had never seen them alive before, only their corpses. Watching them, studying them, dissecting them…

  Valm shook his head. What do you mean, dissect? Study them! Study! That’s how a true scientist should think!

  But his heart was still pounding. And not from the run.

  By the time the alchemist returned, Ladbor’s team was already up and preparing breakfast. Torn between his desire to eat something delicious and his reluctance to wash the cauldron again, Valm pulled out one of the dishes he had ordered back at the restaurant in town and quickly ate it.

  He was about to join the mages when Skrite invited him to ride with the warriors that day, saying they weren’t as boring and that the journey would be more entertaining with them.

  Why not? The alchemist thought, jumping onto their wagon.

  “Master Valm, may I ask you something?” Malik said as the wagons started moving.

  “Go ahead…”

  “We all felt it a few weeks ago when the God of War came to your estate. Is he your friend?”

  Ladbor immediately perked up. This question had been bothering him for a long time.

  “Well, not exactly a friend. It’s more accurate to call him a client.”

  “Do you have any friends among the Gods of War? What are they like? Can you tell us?”

  Of course. Who else would interest and excite a warrior? Only stronger warriors. And the Gods of War were like living legends to people like Malik. Naturally, even the smallest scraps of information about them were intriguing.

  “The Gods of War don’t have friends, Malik. Only situational allies. So no, I don’t have any friends among them.”

  “Do you know many of them personally?”

  “A few.”

  “Are they strong? Who among them is the strongest?”

  “Of course they’re strong; that’s why they are the Gods of War! But do you really think a mere alchemist can determine which of them is the most powerful?”

  At these words, Ladbor realized that Valm was either lying or withholding something. The whole city knew that the Mad Bitch had come to him two weeks ago—a presence recognized by almost every warrior on the continent. So why hadn’t he named her as the strongest?! Damn it! Did they have a bad relationship? Or were they even enemies? And calling himself a mere alchemist… The Gods of War don’t visit ordinary people!

  Ladbor barely suppressed the fury rising in his chest. If there was a chance for the dungeon to swallow up this arrogant fool… Ladbor would take it.

  The adventurers continued to press the alchemist with questions about the Gods of War before shifting the topic to boasting about their weapons and armor. Valm examined all the swords, shields, and arrows, noting that only a few of them reached the fourth class. They were even worse than Grem’s old daggers, which the alchemist had accidentally ruined with his red blades.

  The warriors were right about one thing—it was definitely more entertaining to travel with them than with arrogant, dull mages. The next two days passed quickly and unnoticed, except for the constant noise that left his head throbbing by evening. Fortunately, a deep sleep at night easily remedied that.

  “In a couple of hours, we’ll be there,” Ladbor announced on the morning of the fifth day of travel.

  Everyone in the wagon gradually quieted down and began checking their gear. Valm observed their seriousness before moving to sit next to the driver.

  The road passed through a sparse forest, dotted with small glades and crisscrossed by shallow rivers and streams.

  Soon, far ahead, they could see a purple glow in the sky. It was hazy like a mist, lacking clear contours. Valm had read that it was merely a projection of the magical seals binding the ruined levels of Tiktak, preventing them from spreading out of control.

  Several decades ago, first a breach and then a complete collapse had occurred in the dungeon. When the initial waves of monsters surged forth, one of the Gods of War carved a path through them to the entrance of Tiktak and descended. The waves of creatures vanished, and for a few hours, all was silent. Dozens of powerful warriors finished off the remaining monsters on the surface, waiting for the God of War to return. Then, suddenly, the ground trembled with a massive explosion.

  No one truly knew what had happened. The warriors could only deduce from the lingering aura in the air that the God of War had used a desperation strike—detonating the core of his aura, annihilating both Tiktak and himself. Gods of War rarely resorted to such measures, as it meant the absolute end. Only when all hope was lost, and the enemy was worse than death itself, would they take such a step. But who could have been a foe so terrible for a high-ranking God of War in a mere dungeon?!

  The answer was lost forever—his explosion had erased everything.

  When the echoes of the blast faded and the waves of destruction on the surface calmed, the surviving warriors approached the enormous crater that had appeared where the dungeon entrance once stood. Peering inside, they saw a deep chasm, stretching for dozens of kilometers downward, cutting through all the levels of ruined Tiktak. Before their eyes, massive purple magical seals began appearing on their own. One after another, they layered over the dungeon’s levels, separating them from each other.

  Some warriors claimed they saw ten seals, others insisted there were fourteen, and some even counted seventeen before the dense purple weave became too thick to see beyond the fourth level.

  From that moment, the dungeon began to regenerate. Within a decade, the first daredevils were forming teams and venturing down. The results of those explorations were disappointing—many passageways between levels were destroyed and had not yet recovered. The vegetation was still sparse, lacking the high-quality ingredients that Tiktak had been famous for. The monsters were few, completely isolated on their respective levels according to their strength.

  But time passed, and the dungeon kept rebuilding itself. Now, according to seasoned adventurers, it resembled the old, legendary Tiktak. The only difference was that the monster segregation remained unchanged. Teams hunting monster cores had to descend quite deep—even for third-class cores. It had been precisely determined: two dungeon levels per monster class. Meaning Valm, to study fourth-class monsters, would have to descend to the seventh level.

  Lost in thought, the alchemist hardly noticed as they neared a massive hill, several kilometers high, at the base of which lay the dungeon entrance. At its summit, covered with sparse trees and bushes, a bright purple glow shone. They said a giant hole, sealed by a magical barrier, still remained at the peak. Few dared to go there willingly due to the mana storm that had raged there since the catastrophe.

  Ladbor halted the wagons near the stables, where hundreds, perhaps thousands, of adventurers left their mounts before venturing into Tiktak’s depths. Taking them down was strictly forbidden, as even the best-trained creatures inexplicably reverted to wild, aggressive states in the dungeon, immediately attempting to devour their owners.

  While the team stretched their legs after the long ride, Ladbor went to speak with other groups who had just emerged from the depths, hoping to gather up-to-date information. He needed to know if anything had changed before their raid began.

  “They say it’s unchanged, at least on the first four levels. The climate and vegetation are fine, but there are too few monsters, so we have to hunt them rather than the other way around. No one here has come from deeper levels, but rumors say it’s the same down there. So, if everyone’s ready, we can begin. Everyone’s ready, right?”

  “Yes!”

  “We’re good to go!”

  “Let’s move!”

  Valm simply nodded, feeling a faint tremor of unease creeping over him. Was it fear of the monsters, no longer caged but roaming free? Or just fear of the unknown? Damn, he’d never even heard of other alchemists venturing into dungeons!

  The team advanced, and he followed, shoving his sweaty hands into the pockets of his gray cloak.

  At the entrance, when it came time to pay the toll and register, a problem nearly arose—Valm didn’t have an adventurer’s token. Ordinary people were rarely allowed into dungeons due to the near-certain death rate.

  “Token?” the guard asked.

  “I don’t have one, but I’m going with them,” the alchemist pointed at the Silver Dragons.

  “If you don’t have a token, they can go in, but you can’t!”

  “But—” Valm tried to protest.

  Ladbor noticed the issue and stepped up to the registration desk.

  “Hold on, captain,” he said to the guard. “He’s our client, and we’re escorting him into the dungeon. Here’s the contract, signed by the Adventurers’ Guildmaster, meaning he can enter with us. All by the rules, correct?”

  The guard scrutinized every page of the document, even holding it up to the sun to check the watermark on the guild’s official paper.

  “Alright, he can go,” the guard finally relented. “But make sure the first bug down there doesn’t bite his head off. Your team takes full responsibility! Understood?”

  Valm handed over a silver coin as his entrance fee, signed the registry, and hurried to join the waiting Silver Dragons at the massive metal dungeon gates.

  Beyond the gates, he saw a long cave reinforced with towering stone columns, their tops vanishing into the darkness beyond the reach of countless torches below.

  The echo of ten pairs of boots rang through the cavern, making Valm glance around warily. His slit pupils narrowed like those of a beast on the hunt, and a surge of bloodlust threatened to rise from within. With immense willpower, he suppressed it before the others could notice—though some of the warriors seemed to sense something and shot him cautious looks.

  The tunnel was straight and long. Nearly half an hour passed before Valm saw bright light ahead.

  And after another ten minutes, the Silver Dragons and their alchemist stood on a vast, flat natural terrace high in the mountains.

  Valm took a deep breath of the warm air and looked up.

  There, higher than even the sun, a massive purple magical seal stretched across the entire sky, from horizon to horizon.