Solo Strategy

Sleeping well for the first time in several insanely long days in a warm, dry bed, I felt great. Plus, I was pleased with my new boots, custom-made by an experienced craftsman. Of course, I could have slept longer. But last night, after sunset, I had to spend a couple of hours at the tailor's, showing him exactly what pants I wanted to replace the ones completely torn up in the swamps.

My new pants were not ordinary like the ones I used to wear, but fit perfectly into my protective gear. Multi-layered fabric, dense leather inserts protecting both the outer and inner surfaces of the thighs. Besides that, I managed to explain to the tailor the principles of protective kneepads. The result was more than satisfactory.

The fact that in Ain almost all clothing was custom-made rather than bought off the rack—except for the cheapest options—definitely had its advantages. Of course, that is if you had the money to pay good craftsmen. I did, and I took advantage of it.

So, as I climbed the steps of the city temple, my mood was good. The only thing slightly dampening it was that I couldn't completely shake off the thought that I had been too harsh with Alice. This prolonged self-examination was beginning to annoy me, and I slightly envied my past self, who wasn't bothered by such reflections.

The line to Sundbad's Gates so early in the morning, just half an hour after sunrise, was quite short, so, not abusing my status, I waited patiently.

"Raven Alexandrite, Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild, following the path of Sundbad, which leads me to Pentapolis, specifically to Deytran," I said to the steward of the Gates when it was my turn to register for the Transition.

"Just a moment, esteemed Om Raven," the steward said with a bow, finishing recording my details. "The Gates of Deytran might be unavailable today; I'll check." He got up from the desk and headed towards the senior priest.

He returned about five minutes later:

"Om Raven, I was right. The nearest time we can reserve the Gates of Deytran is tomorrow, an hour before noon." Seeing my obvious displeasure, he quickly added, "But the passage to Feyst is open."

I even shook my head like a bobblehead kicked by a careless child, refusing the offer.

"The Gates to Kronis and Atreia will also be available within the hour."

Atreia was an immediate no-go for me; nothing to do there right now. Kronis... That was more interesting: it was quite possible that Morpheus had already settled in this city of knowledge. So, instead of waiting a day for the passage to Deytran, I could jump to Kronis.

While I was lost in thought, the chief priest of Sundbad studied the changes in the Signs covering the Transition Gates, then briskly approached us.

"Greetings, Sheriff of the Book," the chief priest bowed deeply, even though he was above me in the hierarchy of ranks. "I heard you need to get to Pentapolis, and quite unexpectedly, considering the holiday, a slot has opened for Sun City."

Holiday? What holiday? Quickly sifting through the memory of the future, I remembered. Today was the wedding day of Antares and Dairin, but this celebration was only observed in Sun City. Moreover, this was the day when recruits were annually enlisted into the Paladin Corps. Apparently, someone had canceled their reserved passage; otherwise, getting to Sun City today without a prior booking would have been very difficult.

In theory, I could jump to Sun City and then, switching to a run, reach Deytran even before noon tomorrow. Besides, there were things to see in the City of Light itself, like the main fountain, which hid another secret altar of the Night Sister.

An unexpected memory pricked my temple, and I recalled someone it would be wise to meet in Sun City. Someone who could advise me about the Night Sisters' bracelets.

"Honored sheriff, you must decide right now," the chief priest of Sundbad in Gray Ford said insistently.

"Sun City suits me," I nodded.

"Then follow me, Sheriff of the Book, I will personally take care of your Road," the priest smiled quite amiably, gesturing toward the rune circle of "weighing."

When all the necessary procedures were completed, I nodded farewell to the priest and, mentally offering a brief prayer to the God of Paths and Roads, stepped into the Gate.

The Transition Platform in Sun City was no smaller than its counterpart in Feyst. However, its interior design and the mood it created were drastically different. If in Feyst, everything was arranged to impress those passing through the Gates with luxury, a display of wealth, and almost tangible greed, then here in Sun City, a lofty solemnity prevailed.

Magnificent statues of gods and heroes, like ever-watchful guardians, stood along the walls and in the most prominent places. Their gilded armor and swords shone in the morning sunlight, as if emitting a living glow.

Frescoes covering the vaults and ceilings depicted scenes of great battles between Light and Darkness, victorious processions of Paladins, and Antares riding in a chariot, dragging the very day luminary behind him. The floor mosaics, made of pieces of silver, lapis lazuli, and obsidian, formed intricate geometric symbols of order and faith, drawing the eye and making the hearts of pilgrims stop in awe at the surrounding grandeur.

Everywhere on the columns and walls, praises to Antares could be discerned, inscribed in the purest silver, shimmering like delicate starry sparks, reminding of the divine nature of the patron of the City of Light.

And above all this silent magnificence—polished to a mirror shine—the white marble gleamed in the soft, almost holy light of the rising Sun, as a symbol of purity and unbreakable faith.

The atmosphere filled my chest with a sense of sacred zeal and an almost unbearable urge for heroism, making me forget earthly concerns and tremble from a sudden surge of solemn inspiration.

Unlike the deliberate slowness of Feyst or the business bustle of Deytran, strictness and discipline reigned here. Everyone who passed through the Gates was met by at least a junior priest of Sundbad and one of the recruits of the corps, judging by the symbols embroidered on their garments, in their second year of service.

"Om Raven Alexandrite, Sheriff of the Tunnellers' Guild, Sapphire rank," I began to introduce myself to the servant of the God of Roads, when a junior paladin, having just stepped beyond the Second Wall, approached me briskly.

Before addressing me, he gave orders to the recruits; his voice, clearly enhanced by Air magic, echoed under the intricate dome of the Transition platform:

"Admission is over! All latecomers, out. Antares does not tolerate disrespect, and we, His holy Hammer, will not either."

What was he even on about? And yelling at the top of his lungs, standing just a step from me... My poor ears.

Barely glancing at me, the junior paladin, clad in full armor over which lay a snow-white cotta with a golden Sun sign embroidered across the chest, gave a short order to the recruit standing nearby:

"Take the sheriff's belongings and escort him!"

"Yes, sir!" The recruit immediately straightened up and reached for my backpack.

Really now, what did they think they were doing? As the recruit's hand touched the backpack, my palm moved toward his elbow.

'Discharge!'

Not expecting such resistance, the recruit of the Sapphire Rank nearly cursed out loud but bit his tongue just in time and stepped back, looking questioningly at his superior.

"My belongings stay with me," I said firmly, not shifting my spear into a combat stance to avoid escalating the situation further.

No way was I handing over my backpack to the paladins, especially considering what lay at the bottom, wrapped in black cloth. What was going on here? Recruits in the Gate Hall were normal, but the whole two junior paladins and one from the Radiant Dozen too?! Was this some kind of raid? No, it didn't seem like it. More likely, extra security measures because of the celebration. Regardless, I was the Sheriff of the Great Guild and had certain rights, so I wasn't about to give up my belongings.

"Sheriff..." the junior paladin said, not contemptuously but rather wearily. "Your Guild has no authority in the City of Sun. So you either..."

He didn't get to finish. One of the Radiant Dozen, who had been standing about ten steps away, suddenly appeared right next to us, seemingly using some quick-movement skill. His heavy hand landed on the junior paladin's shoulder.

"Darius," the voice of the member of the Dozen was full of calm and inner strength. "The esteemed Sheriff of the Book, as well as the winner of the Alchemists' Tournament in Tries, is our brother in the Light."

The junior paladin's irritated look towards me instantly changed to one of understanding, and he took a step back.

They knew me here... But then, how could it be otherwise? The Corps was the strongest military organization in all of Ain, and they couldn't have missed the news about the first Sheriff of the Book in three centuries. Naturally, they had learned something about me.

"It is an immense honor for me to see with my own eyes Halmgar, the Darkness Expeller," I said, bowing deeply to greet the new character.

Before me stood a man of impressive stature, with a stern face that looked as if it were carved from marble. His finely chiseled features could serve as a model for sculptors depicting ancient heroes. A high, clear forehead added a majestic and thoughtful air to his appearance, and a sharp, steely gaze, burning with unyielding determination, immediately made it clear: this man knew no doubt. Tense veins played subtly on his square, powerful jaw, revealing inner strength and focus. His build was dense and robust, as if each muscle had been forged by a hammer and tempered in sacred fire.

Rumor had it that this man, whose face artists at Games Workshop would not be ashamed to use as models for Space Marines, was considered the weakest warrior of the Radiant Dozen. Nevertheless, he was not to be underestimated. I was confident that in a fair fight, he could take on both the Man of a Thousand Faces and the Twilight Weaver at once—and would almost certainly kill them both.

Stolen story; please report.

The weakest of the Dozen meant the strongest anywhere else in Ain. A great fighter, a competent commander. It was he whom the Corps' council sent to investigate the rumors of a demon Invasion in the Last Cycle. A campaign from which neither he nor his squad returned.

"Sheriff Raven will accompany me," said Halmgar the Darkness Expeller, nodding to the junior paladin, and deliberately slowly headed towards the Transition platform exit.

Adjusting my backpack and shifting my spear so that the blade of Striking Whisper pointed downwards, I hurried after one of the Dozen. In the Last Cycle, I had never interacted with this man, nor did I know much about him, so I walked silently, unsure if I should even start a conversation.

"And there we were wondering," the Darkness Expeller suddenly whispered conspiratorially, "whether you would show up today or not." If only I understood what he meant. "Some even placed bets on it."

"I hope you won," I said, trying to keep the conversation going, though I barely grasped the context.

"It doesn't matter," he waved it off, but the fleeting smile on his face told me he did. "At first, we didn't take seriously the news that the Book had found a new Chosen for the first time in centuries. But then the rumors were confirmed." Without slowing down, Halmgar began to scrutinize me closely. "The last two Sheriffs of the Book chose to join our ranks. And on behalf of the entire corps, I'm glad you didn't go against this tradition."

What?!! How on earth? Where did he get that idea?

And then it hit me. Indeed, the paladin could have had such thoughts. Today was the only day of the year when recruits were accepted into the corps, and here I was—the first Sheriff of the Book in three hundred years. On this very day, and, judging by the junior paladin's exclamation, just in time. For me, this whole situation was nothing more than a coincidence, but from the outside, it could indeed look like the Sheriff of the Book had arrived to enlist in the corps.

Question… How was I supposed to wiggle out of this without giving offense to the most powerful military organization in Ain? An offense that might not be survivable.

Probably, the best solution would have been to clear up the misunderstanding right then and there. But while I was thinking and choosing my words, we went through the gate and found ourselves on the outer staircase. And all my thoughts immediately flew out of my head at what I saw.

On the fairly large central square of Sun City, it was, to put it mildly, crowded. But it wasn't a throng of people rushing about their business. Numerous warriors, mages, and priests, apparently wishing to join the corps, under the strict commands of third-year recruits, were lining up in neat rows.

Apart from this mass, numbering no less than a thousand, near the main fountain stood about two dozen people, clearly distinguished from the crowd. Eleven Radiant Paladins and the elite priests of Antares, including the high priest of the God of Light in all of Ain. He, incidentally, was deep in conversation with the head of the corps, the two of them seemingly oblivious to the chaos of the square.

'Hmm, approaching the fountain and calling on the true altar of Seguna right now is definitely not the best idea!' The thought flashed through my mind, totally out of place.

I was about to turn to the Darkness Expeller and explain, to say that I didn't plan to join the corps, when my attention was drawn to a small group of people standing distinctly apart from the others. Looking closer, I swallowed the words of refusal that were about to burst from my lips.

'What are these idiots doing here?!'

My thought was about seven people who were somehow subtly different from the rest. They didn't wear their clothes the way people in Ain did, their gestures were sharper and more casual, and their expressions were a mix of shock, curiosity, and a hint of superiority. I recognized two of them from the Last Cycle. Barely acquaintances, but we had spoken a few times.

Earthlings—and it was apparent this was a tight-knit group, already used to working together. You could tell by their movements, how they constantly covered each other's backs, even though there wasn't a hint of danger for them now. This habit had simply become ingrained in them over three months in this new world. All of them—Wootz rank. Not bad, actually, for such a short time. Not bad, but not outstanding either.

"Sapphire fighters are forming up over there," said Halmgar, pointing to one of the rows.

"If it doesn't contradict the regulations, I would like to take a place in the ranks of my fellow countrymen," I said, pointing to the group of seven that had caught my attention.

"It's not customary," the Darkness Expeller grimaced, "but it doesn't contradict... the regulations."

"It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, esteemed Halmgar the Darkness Expeller." I bowed, and did so without any hint of mockery or disdain.

"I think you'll pass the trial easily, and we'll meet again many times in the future," said one of the Dozen, patting me on the back patronizingly and quickly descending the stairs, clearly heading towards the city fountain.

Hurrying down the steps after the paladin, I bypassed the rows of Opal warriors, then the mages of the same rank, and finally the Wootz healers, approaching the group of seven that had piqued my interest, taking a position at the head of their line.

Naturally, my appearance didn't go unnoticed by the earthlings: they immediately stopped talking and, with clear wariness but also undisguised curiosity, started scrutinizing me. Apparently, they mistook me for a local, as had happened before in this Cycle with other earthlings. Unlike them, I behaved and dressed like a native, and my unusual armor was covered by a cotta. The only things that could have given me away as an outsider, like them, were the oddly-shaped backpack and the morion helmet hanging on a special attachment on it.

I could have used this to put on a good show, but it seemed the official part of the celebration was about to begin, and there was no time for games. So, waiting for the moment when the attention of all seven earthlings was fully on me, I turned to them and said in a sepulchral voice:

"Aloha, doomed ones."

Surprise, shock, the realization that I was an earthling like them... In the eyes of some, I caught a flash of anger I couldn't understand.

Four guys and three girls. A balanced group: two pairs of warriors, two elemental mages, and a healer with Ishii's staff in hand. A staff that once again reminded me of Lan Lin.

"Who are you?"

Now that was a stupid question, really. But I could chalk the stupidity up to nerves.

"So, you've decided to sign up for the corps?" Ignoring the question, I scanned the faces of the seven earthlings with as heavy a gaze as I could muster. "Do you even know what you are in for, what kind of trial?"

I emphasized the last word, and one of the girls and two of the guys got it right away, instantly recalling the first and second group trials, visibly paling.

"We know," a tall guy in a double-weave chainmail with a longsword at his waist stepped forward. The memory of the future preserved his image, but not his name. "We'll be sent to the Tower."

"And have you even seen this Tower?" I asked slyly.

"What's there to see?" a young man with a mop of unruly black hair falling over his eyes snapped irritably, clutching a staff with a Fire Element stone. "A pillar of light on the next square. About forty steps in diameter and nearly a hundred meters high."

"I mean, have you seen it from the inside?" I pressed, and even before I heard their answer, I could tell that no, they hadn't seen the inside yet. "You haven't…" I nodded affirmatively.

"Oh, and you have?" A petite girl with an Air staff approached the two guys. Not a beauty, but not ugly either—just average. A blonde with sharp, slightly asymmetrical features and a stubborn look in her brown eyes.

"Each floor of the Inverted Tower is much larger than it seems from the outside. And when I say 'much,' I mean it. Consider each floor as a separate space that can cover hundreds of square kilometers," I began, thinking a little lecture wouldn't hurt them. "And you, as a test for those who have reached the Wootz Step, will be sent to the first floor with the task of reaching the Column of Antares."

"How do you know this? The last recruitment for the Paladins Corps was a year ago, when none of us were in this world," inquired the Air mage girl I hadn't met in the Last Cycle.

Tapping my guild Sign with my index finger, I allowed myself a light but somewhat mysterious smile.

"As you can see, I am a sheriff of a Great Guild, and unlike you, I've reached Sapphire." This, by the way, was quite a strong point, far more convincing than my unclear position as sheriff. "Besides, I often travel alone and don't consider it beneath me to talk to the locals. These conversations often reveal a lot of new things about this world."

"Alright," the guy whose name I didn't remember nodded, gesturing for the Air mage to be silent. "Let's suppose you're aware of the trial we face. But why did you call us doomed?"

"It's simple," I shrugged, pretending to study the High Priest of Antares standing by the fountain. "As I've heard, of those who dare to descend the Floors at Wootz, barely a third return from their first expedition."

"I've heard otherwise," the swordsman stubbornly tilted his head. "Coordinated groups hardly suffer losses on the upper floors!"

"Yes, I agree. But not groups of novices. And when it comes to novices, no one risks their first descent without an experienced guide," I paused briefly before continuing, "By the way, for your upcoming trial, no guide will be provided."

"We don't need a guide," the swordsman insisted even more stubbornly. "The seven of us have cleared dungeons that the locals only dare enter in complete dozens. We've slain dungeon bosses that they wouldn't even dare to touch. Three of us have combat experience from Earth, and Taessi," he nodded towards the girl with Ishii's staff, "is a field surgeon by profession. The rest of us practiced martial arts and can fight too. Especially Treville," he pointed to the guy with a long, quadrangular estoc[1] at his waist, "a prize-winning fencer in his country."

Prize-winner? Perhaps. But apparently, in the Last Cycle, his Earth sports fencing skills didn't help him much. Why? Because I hadn't even heard of him, which meant he perished in Ain long before the Invasion. Well, I had a response to that. Smirking demonstratively, I began to speak quietly:

"Clearing dungeons with bosses as a group of seven—a great achievement, isn't it? At least, that's what you think?" Raising my left hand, I summoned the Symbols of Achievement above each finger, showing that I had cleared dungeons solo.

Of course, I didn't show the "Full Hand[2]"—but even this was enough, judging by how the faces of the overly self-confident seven stretched in disbelief.

"Now these are Achievements," I said, clenching my hand into a fist and dispelling the visualization. "These truly mean something."

They looked at me differently now. Not with respect, but more with fear, as if I were some unknown and dangerous beast.

"Alright," I continued more calmly, easing my tone. "Let's say you believe in yourselves. And deservedly so. But did you consider that before the trial, everyone on this square will be divided into groups of five?" This was clearly news to them. "Even if you manage to keep your group, it will be a group of five, and two of you will have to join another team, the one you're assigned to."

Unpleasant surprise for them.

"Perhaps you really are as strong as you think you are. Fine, I won't argue. I see that as a group, you've indeed worked well together," I continued to speak quietly and, I hoped, convincingly. "And those who enter the Tower in a group of five will indeed complete the task without losses. But what about the pair who will be joined to another team? Will they survive? I'm not sure." I gave them a heavy look. "So, who among you will you send to their death? You?" My finger pointed at the healer girl. "Or you?" The Fire mage even stepped back when the butt of Striking Whisper pressed against his chest. "Or will your leader," my gaze found the swordsman, "abandon the group and face danger alone, thus weakening the main five?"

Yeah, that hit home—they started glancing at each other, not so confident in success anymore.

"If the trial were structured differently, I would have helped you. But here's the problem: as a Sapphire warrior, I will be taken straight to the sixth Floor."

By the way, that was quite tempting... I even fell silent, pondering this thought. But after rolling it around in my head, I dismissed it. I wasn't planning to become a corps recruit today!

"But alright," I continued my lecture. "Let's assume you managed it and all survived. Then you went through the interview stage, and again—what a miracle—passed, with none of you being eliminated. But the third, final trial, your entire group definitely won't pass that."

The swordsman clearly wanted to say something, but I continued speaking, not letting him get a word in:

"The third trial is a prayer to Antares at a true altar. Only those recruits will be accepted into the corps to whom the Sun God deigns to Respond. And I doubt that each of you has managed to earn an Affinity with Light to be confident in that response. No? Why am I not surprised? Without Affinity, being heard is like winning the lottery. Yes, today is a special day when Antares is more favorably inclined to respond to pleas. But still, he will answer at best one in ten." I repeated with emphasis, "One in ten. And even if one of you gets lucky, your group will fall apart. The lucky ones who pass all three trials will be accepted as recruits, but the rest... They'll have to find their own way. Your group will disband."

It seemed I was right, and my final argument sobered them up far more effectively than all the others.

"I told you," the fencer shook his head. "We need to find out more."

"We didn't have time to gather all the information," the mage girl hissed at him. "We only got to the city last night, and you remember how the locals reacted to our questions."

"'Find out yourselves' was the politest response," the prize-winning fencer said through gritted teeth.

"Okay, then we need to rethink everyth…"

The swordsman didn't get to finish. A loud and authoritative voice rang out over the square:

"Silence!"

[1] Translator's note: the used term is not exactly an estoc, but close - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koncerz.
[2] Translator's note: that's the original wording, but it should be obvious that he meant the same Pure Palm. As you probably remember, there were several versions of it (differing in the number of "fingers" which reflect the difficulty), and Full Hand is a short way to say "with all five fingers."