Solo Strategy

With effort, I pushed the porridge into myself, not feeling its taste, washed it down generously with spring water, and rose to my feet. Then, approaching the manager, I paid for the room for another three days, after which I returned to my room, fully dressed, took Striking Whisper in hand, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and ran down the stairs.

No, I wasn't planning to catch up with the pair of earthlings, but they as if charged me with their determination. I simply couldn't sit still or wander around the city looking for magic teachers. Instead, I quickly made my way to the city gates, signed out with the guards, and, bypassing the long line at the entrance, took off at full speed.

A thirst for activity boiled within me. And so, to avoid getting into unnecessary adventures—which would definitely have found me, given my mood—I decided to retrieve the sword fragments. Yes, I could have jumped through the Gates closer to the burial place of the valirium shards, but two hundred kilometers… Was that really such a great distance for a Sapphire warrior who just wanted to run and not think about anything?

The place I needed to reach, thanks to the memory of the future, I remembered well. Fortunately, I had been there in the Last Cycle in person. So, choosing the right direction, I ran like Forrest Gump from the movie of the same name. I wanted to get lost in this run, even if just for a little while, so that the wind hitting my face would erase from my memory the faces of the fallen earthlings I had spoken to less than a day ago.

I had no idea what speed I was making, naturally, as I had neither a speedometer nor a satellite navigation device with me. But I was running so fast that the wind howled in my ears.

About halfway there, my boots—ordered from an experienced and skilled master but still quite ordinary—couldn't withstand the load and, rather impressively, their soles tore off at the same time. One went somewhere to the left, and the other to the right. They flew off beautifully, like launched from a sling. I had to stop and remove the damaged footwear. A thorough inspection showed that the boots were now only good for throwing away. And I did just that, ending up barefoot yet again, for the umpteenth time in recent days. Although it was my own fault: if I wanted to run at speeds achievable by a Sapphire rank, I shouldn't have economized but ordered shoes from an artifact master, enchanted for durability and reduced wear.

Left barefoot, I had no choice but to slow down, running not like an arrow skillfully released, but as if on a leisurely jog in some earthly park.

Passing by a medium-sized city, I thought about stopping to order new shoes from a master-artifactor but remembered that such footwear was made exclusively to order, and fulfilling this order would take no less than a day. So, I abandoned the idea to save time, continuing my run barefoot.

During the entire journey, I stopped only twice: first, to discard the worn-out shoes, and second, to ask a passing caravan where the Ongatan clan's castle was, which in my memory served as the first and most notable landmark.

When the walls of the sought-after castle came into view, I oriented myself by the sun, chose what I hoped was the right direction, and ran straight southeast. An hour later, I noticed the next landmark—an ancient oak tree standing alone in the field.

Thus, thanks to the memory of the future, moving from one familiar landmark to the next, about an hour before sunset, I reached a small but swift river. To the west, the forest pressed close to the riverbank, while to the east lay a range of hills covered in wild shrubs.

The further search for the right place became much easier: I just had to move against the river's current until its sharp, almost one hundred eighty degrees, bend.

The forest along the riverbank where I walked belonged to the baronial Ongatan clan. Local peasants and hunters were forbidden to even collect firewood in its groves. Of course, this ban was often violated, but due to the baron, known for his explosive temper, locals tried not to venture deep into this forest to avoid provoking a fit of the noble's rage.

According to local legends, several hundred years ago, this forest was once fertile fields and held a castle belonging to a family that was at odds with the Ongatan clan. As in all peasant tales, life on these lands was free, abundant, and joyful. But the daughter of this family, whose name has been lost to history, fell in love with the heir of the Ongatan clan. On a dark night, she opened the gates of her castle to her beloved's army, having first deactivated the protective amulets. That was the end of her family's story, and she, too, reportedly did not live long. Baron Ongatan ordered the castle to be destroyed and razed to the ground, and in place of the lush pastures, on his command, Nature mages grew this forest.

I had no idea how much truth was in that story, or how much was fiction, and, really, I wasn't that curious about the local folklore. What interested me far more were the ruins of the old castle, or rather, the foundation that remained of it.

Finding the sharp bend in the river I needed, just as expected, was not difficult. But before heading further into the depths of the forest, I decided to rest a bit, heat up some food, and eat properly. I planned to search for the foundation of the destroyed castle at night, by the light of Seguna—at the time when the shadows grew thick, and my skills would give me a far better chance of slipping past any gamekeeper who happened to be out on patrol.

Instead of heating my dinner with household spells, I fished a few logs out of the river, dried them with Air magic, and lit a campfire. Why a campfire? I simply felt like toasting bread over the coals, as I often did as a small boy during summers at my grandmother's cottage.

While the wood burned down, I sat on the riverbank, resting and sorting through smooth, water-polished pebbles. Just ordinary pebbles. A couple of them, about the size of a quarter of a fist, looked so much like tiny boars that I even brought them to the fire. Rolling these pebbles in my hand, to make use of the time while the coals burned down, I practiced meditative techniques to enhance memory. In this way, I hoped to increase the filling of the Stars of Mental.

When the sun had dipped towards the horizon, the coals were just right. So, I carved makeshift skewers from twigs and threaded the pre-cut bread cubes onto them. Inhaling the aroma of toasting bread, I realized it had been a while since I'd talked to the First Feather. And I had things to tell it.

Just as I reached for my belt to take out Katashi's Firstborn from its case, I sensed an unnatural movement of air behind me. Immediately, throwing the skewers aside, I first shifted my body left, and then dashed right towards the Striking Whisper lying nearby, simultaneously trying to throw up an Air Shield toward the presumable threat.

More precisely, I tried to cast an Air Shield, but due to lack of practice, the spell activated a fraction of a second too late.

Just a bit more, literally a couple of centimeters, and I would have dodged the unexpected attack. I felt the touch of rope on my arm at the same moment my palm closed around Striking Whisper. But getting up with a weapon in my hand was already out of the question. Instead, I toppled into the grass, tied up so tightly I might have been wrapped by an expert torturer.

"What is wrong with you?!" I yelled, my nose pressed into the ground, recognizing the rope that had bound me.

For a couple of minutes, nothing happened. The forest rustled as usual, and the wind, as if mocking me, blew one of the skewers with almost ready bread pieces right into the coals.

Gritting my teeth, I tried to tense my muscles, but the rope immediately tightened even more, making it hard to breathe. Clearly, even at Sapphire, there was no point in thinking about breaking this damn artifact rubbish! Honestly, I hated this rope with the same sincere hatred a fair online gamer feels towards cheaters.

Clenching my eyes shut painfully hard, I opened them abruptly, at the same time activating the Metal Scale spell. It didn't help; the rope still held firm and showed no sign of slipping off my metal-covered hand. Next, I tried Spirit Armor, and just as I felt a glimmer of hope, the dwarven magic crumbled into pieces, unable to withstand the strange artifact that bound me like a parcel. Then, the rope tightened even more, as if warning me not to use magic if I wanted to breathe. Fine, I was still powerless against this cheat.. Negotiation it is, then.

"Remove this marvel of yours."

How I wanted to call this rope something else: "junk," "nasty thing," even "monster," but I changed my mind at the last moment.

"We seemed to have agreed on everything and parted ways like ships at sea."

In response—only silence. I strained all my senses but couldn't determine where that Da'Nnan's Aussie had hidden.

What rotten luck, getting caught like this: I had let myself relax, gotten lost in my thoughts—and here I was, trussed up like a baby. Though to be fair, even the utmost vigilance wouldn't have saved me from the unexpected attack of the Shard of the Goddess of the Hunt. Such ambushes were her forte.

"I'm not going to attack you, really," I continued, lowering my voice, confident that I would be heard. "You did save my life, after all."

Suddenly, I heard footsteps. And immediately realized I was allowed to hear them. I remembered how Scully walked through the forest—completely silently, so now she deliberately stepped on dry branches. Probably a good sign.

"Raven," came the familiar voice from behind me.

I wanted to turn my head, but the rope didn't allow even such a simple movement.

"I'm not your enemy."

"Then take the rope off," I muttered, trying to breathe evenly and calm my anger. It wasn't helping me right now.

"I will... later."

I couldn't see, but I knew: Scully said this with a smile.

"I'm a fragile, weak, beautiful girl in a scary, unfamiliar forest. And I'm afraid of you."

"Yeah, yeah, like in that joke: 'Sir, I'm going to come down to you!'[1]"

With each passing second, I felt more confident. If she hadn't killed me right away, she probably wouldn't now—unless I said something truly stupid.

"Haven't heard it, but I guess it's a dirty story."

If she wasn't using Air magic, she stood about five meters behind me.

"Tell me later."

"Untie me, and I'll tell you now."

So I was right, and there would be a "later." That was good already.

"No, no," Scully laughed softly. "I like strong, smart men whose actions I can't predict." A theatrically heavy sigh reached my ears. "But right now, your unpredictability is making a certain defenseless girl cautious. The defenseless girl is me, in case you didn't get it."

"Yeah, so defenseless you can shoot a Sidhe with a bow in the forest! You and 'defenseless' are practically synonyms, and your picture's in the dictionary next to it," I chuckled, flattering the Aussie.

"You wouldn't believe it..." a heavy, disheartened sigh. "I don't have a bow anymore. It broke. Just snapped when I first drew it after crossing the First Wall."

"A defenseless yet strong maiden... Buy a new one, then. You left quite wealthy after our last encounter," I said.

Apparently, the tension was gradually easing, because despite being tied up, I felt like I was slowly gaining control of the conversation. Scully must have given some command to her rope, as it became easier to breathe. Plus, I managed to move my neck and turn my head a bit, so the grass wasn't getting into my nose.

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"Gold is such a strange thing," her voice was filled with genuine melancholy. "One moment it's there, and the next it's gone[2]. As for the bow... I'll have one made to suit me later. Or maybe I'll make it myself, haven't decided yet."

"Since we're chatting so calmly, maybe it's time to stop these role-playing games with the binding? As you can see, I'm not being aggressive. Though, I admit, this unexpected attack did make me angry."

"Raven, what are you talking about, an attack!" came a merry chime from behind me. "These are just tender and prolonged hugs. After all, my belt is a part of me."

"So, it's a prelude? How did I not realize... Alright, now I'll just relax and enjoy it."

I hoped she caught the sarcasm in my voice!

Someone leaned in close, and I caught the scent of forest herbs, light, barely noticeable, and, I had to admit, pleasant.

"Your spear is really cool," Scully said, but, showing surprising politeness for herself, she didn't touch the Striking Whisper.

"Dear," I hoped my voice sounded as grumpy as a husband's after thirty years of marriage, "why are you stalking me?"

"Me?!" Her surprise seemed genuine. "Stalking? You're the one ignoring me!"

Our dialogue did indeed start to resemble a married couple's conversation: all complaints, with neither understanding what the other was talking about.

"Not true, I don't ignore beautiful and charming girls," I tried to lighten the mood with a compliment as straightforward as a hammer blow.

"Men..." Scully's voice dripped with contempt and disappointment. "All talk, but in reality..."

She shifted so I could finally see her. It was immediately noticeable that she'd changed since our last meeting. She'd switched to a bob haircut and dyed it black. I had to admit—it suited her. I usually didn't like short hair on girls, but here, I had to concede: it looked good and somehow even complemented her style. But the hairstyle wasn't the main thing. Her gear was much more important.

A fine-weave chainmail, reinforced with armor plates in key areas and dyed dark gray with some alchemy, covered her body down to her mid-thighs. The armor was clearly custom-made by a skilled craftsman and perfectly fitted to her figure. Under the chainmail was a dense gambeson with a stiff collar covering her neck, with chainmail inserts. Thoughtful. On her feet were something resembling military boots. A likeness, of course, but well-made, and if I deciphered the symbols correctly, enchanted. Her pants were of thick fabric—not like mine, but enough to protect against random cuts. A dagger hung at her waist. Although no, judging by the shape of the sheath and hilt, it was more like a long hunting knife. Over her right shoulder, five short javelins, each about a meter long, were visible. In her left hand, she held a light hunting spear with a leaf-shaped tip. Clearly, the girl hadn't wasted her time and had spent her money wisely. I was sure her chainmail was made from the reforged armor of Ridan the Honest Sword.

"Don't you feel ashamed?" she asked, sitting across from me. She pulled out a knife and began to scrape the burnt bread from the coals with the blade.

And it wasn't just any knife. I couldn't tell if it was enchanted, but it looked familiar. What was it? Ah, right! I'd seen one like it in a movie I watched at least ten times as a kid.

"Why should I be ashamed, Crocodile Dundee?" I smirked, glancing pointedly at the knife in her hand.

"I love that movie," smiled the Shard of the Goddess of the Hunt. "And you should be ashamed for ignoring someone as remarkable as me." And before I could say a word, she theatrically raised her hands and, looking at me reproachfully, continued, "I was just walking along, minding my own business, enjoying the sights. Suddenly, I see someone running along the road. Practically flying, I'd say, jumping over carts in a peasant caravan. I look closer, and I can't believe my eyes—it's the love of my life! The magnificent Raven himself! All disheveled, looking handsome, with only his bare heels flashing." Someone might actually believe her, imagine that: 'love of her life.' "I was thrilled, thinking, what a meeting! I opened my arms wide..."

The girl sighed heavily, shook her head, and started to glare at me. I kept silent because I hadn't seen her at all and didn't know what to say. It was clear she was acting, and there were no genuine feelings involved. But since I couldn't understand her game, I chose to remain quiet.

"And you... What did you do? You ran right past! Like the wind, who-o-o-osh!" She gestured with her hands to show how it happened. "You left me standing there, disappointed, forgotten." Scully shook her head as if she'd truly suffered some moral injury. "All you men are wombats... I knew it, but I hoped I'd found an exception."

"You weren't on the road," I was sure of it because, no matter how lost in thought I was, I didn't forget to look around.

"On the road or a hundred meters from it, in a small oak grove... Does it matter?" she exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

"Tsk..." I bit my tongue just in time, keeping myself from telling her all I actually thought about the situation.

A hundred meters off the road, in the woods, really! Probably not forgetting to camouflage herself. And now she was voicing her complaints. Although no, it was not complaints, more like something else. She was justifying why she followed me.

"So, you're not a stalker," I exhaled with feigned relief. "You just saw me and decided to say hi, using your belt as a handshake."

"Yes, yes, that's exactly how it was," she lied shamelessly or, rather, partially lied. "Sometimes, your sharpness amazes me. And what kind of stalker would I be? I'm clearly sweet and honest," she smiled at something and continued, "I only ever chase after the ones who run away from me. I was probably a cheetah in another life."

'You were a wombat, or a damn kangaroo!' I shouted mentally but wisely kept it to myself.

"By the way, I don't get what's so special about these stones?"

Only now did I notice she was rolling those two pebbles I picked up by the river in her palm.

"You rushed here because of them, didn't you?"

Scully examined the stones closely, seemingly not forgetting to use some scanning magic.

"You were running and suddenly stopped, started sifting through stones on the riverbank like a prospector looking for gold. Then you found these two and immediately calmed down. That kind of 'buzz' doesn't happen for nothing![3]"

Yes, sometimes even the smartest and most observant people outplay themselves.

"Alright, you guessed it," I pretended to give up, making up a story on the fly. "According to local legends, before the Fall, two Great Beasts lived in this forest. The Boar Brothers, they were called. But one day, these Beasts accidentally trampled on some important scroll of Aerad, and the god of History turned them into river pebbles." Realizing the stones were too small, I quickly corrected myself, "Actually, he killed and roasted the Beasts, but sealed their souls in river stones." I added in a conspiratorial whisper, "For Embodiment mages and Spirit shamans, these stones are like the Holy Grail. They say if you imbue the spirits of these stones into forest boars, they will grow into Great Beasts and obey the one who freed their souls from captivity."

"That's quite a story," after listening to my tale, Scully carefully placed the stones on the grass and moved away from them. "One thing I don't get: how did you know where to look?"

"I have my secrets," I shrugged as much as the rope allowed.

"Secrets," the huntress whispered. "I did tell you... or haven't I yet? No matter. I like mysterious boys."

She licked her lips, looking at me as if I were a juicy, appetizing steak.

I knew she was playing and just teasing, but my body, worn out by prolonged celibacy, reacted quite specifically to this simple provocation, and I was glad I was lying on my stomach.

"So, the magic of Embodiment... I've heard of it." For the first time since we started talking, she seemed genuinely thoughtful. "Maybe I should try it? Do you think a battle pet would suit me?" She stood up, straightened her back, and continued, squinting. "Like, a panther? A black one! And I'll dye my hair blonde again... How would that look..."

While she painted this picture in her mind, a similar image appeared in mine, vivid and alive. Yeah, it would've been stunning.

"Although..." Scully grimaced as if she'd bitten into an unripe lemon. "What kind of panther has the soul of a boar, albeit a Great one? Will it oink or something?"

Apparently, the girl had a very vivid imagination; her furrowed brows suggested she could perfectly envision a black panther oinking.

"No, I don't want that." Then, looking me in the eyes, she added, "You ask why I tied you up? That's why! Because I knew you'd mock me! And tied up, you can only do it verbally. If I hadn't, what then? You'd get handsy, that's what!"

W-women...

"Raven, Raven," she shook her head. "What if I had believed your story? How can you lie like that? Especially to someone as impressionable and trusting of every man's word as me."

"What do you mean lying?" I pretended to be offended and looked her in the eye with an honest gaze.

"There's not a trace of spirit in these stones, neither animal nor natural!"

Crossing her arms, Scully demonstratively kicked the pebbles into the coals.

"I wasn't lying, I was improvising! I was carried away on a wave of inspiration by your unearthly beauty."

"Go on."

As if forgetting she had just been angry, the girl sat down next to me, clasped her hands in a gesture of anticipation, and smiled.

"Your new hairstyle suits you very well. And the stiff collar accentuates the swan-like grace of your neck."

"More."

"The dark gray shade of your armor harmonizes surprisingly well with the color of your eyes and probably hides your silhouette perfectly in the forest thicket."

"More."

"Your new boots... I mean, those militant little things... they highlight the shape of your calves so well that even the Great Beasts from my story, inspired by your beauty, would oink in approval."

"More."

"If the artists of Ain saw how elegantly you hold your spear... They would stop painting pictures of Dairin and start painting only you."

"More."

"Your gaze, like Apollo's arrows, strikes right at the heart. No man in this world could resist it."

"Raven..." the huntress laughed. "Who taught you to give compliments? What was that? What kind of beasts oink at the sight of me?! Who even says that to girls? Are you out of your mind? And those Apollo's arrows—I don't even have a bow, I told you I broke it." She waved her hand. "You're hopeless."

"My clumsiness is explained only by your presence, filling this forest with unearthly beauty and making me bite my tongue. And also, your rope squeezes my chest and restricts my breathing," I made another attempt to persuade her to release me.

"Liar," she smiled. "My belt isn't squeezing you at all."

"Hey, what are you doing?!" I exclaimed when I saw Scully get up and head toward my backpack. "Don't you dare rummage through my stuff! You'll leave such a mess that it'll take me two hours to clean it up!"

"Raven, you can't stand between a girl and her curiosity." A snap of fingers, and the rope around my body tightened a bit more, as if to emphasize the point.

"Scully," my voice rang with steel, "do you really want to make an enemy of me?"

"Why would I bother..." she snorted, and suddenly I felt that her belt stopped restraining me, fell to the ground, and, obeying the huntress's gesture, returned to its owner.

The surprise made me forget my anger. I sat up so I could grab Striking Whisper at any moment and began massaging my arms.

Scully didn't take her eyes off me, but seeing I wasn't showing aggression right now, she smiled and, untying the straps of my backpack, said:

"You do have food, right? I'm starving."

I was about to stand up and smack her mischievous hands away from my stuff when a sudden realization made me freeze with my mouth open.

Our meeting wasn't random. Well, it was, but not entirely. It seemed the Shards' luck was using me as a tool once again. Yes, it wasn't the most pleasant feeling, but wasn't I striving to strengthen the Shards? That was one of the main goals of my strategy. And now I was curious—was I right in my guesses, or was my paranoia acting up again?

Finding out was simple. I just needed not to get in Scully's way. But... how did she gain Shadow Affinity? Definitely not in the First Group Trial, like I did. And she didn't use Shadow in the Wicked Woods. Even during our meeting at Sundbad's Crossroads, I didn't notice anything like that. Although... maybe I had imagined it all, and she had no Shadow Affinity? My awakened curiosity made me smile, and with a generous gesture, I said:

"Help yourself to whatever you find."

"Such generosity!" Scully laughed and started rummaging through my backpack.

At the same time, I couldn't help but notice that her right hand always stayed close to the sheath of her knife.

So, was I right or not? A bundle of black cloth appeared. Come on…

"Oh, wow! The Sheriff of the Great Guild dabbles in Darkness?" The huntress squinted at me, carefully setting the bundle aside as if it were a live grenade.

There was so much I wanted to say to that beautiful, yet so cheeky face. But for the sake of the experiment, I chose to remain silent.

Pretending to massage my hands, I squatted a few times, getting the blood flowing in my legs. Now, I was ready and close enough to attack. And this attack could be successful. Because I could see I was a whole rank above the huntress on the Great Spiral. Of course, there was still the factor of the artifact rope. But the distance between us was just one leap.

Tempting. To tie her up and spank her…

Spank her…

Damn it! What was I thinking?! All my combat spirit vanished instantly as I imagined spanking Scully. Lifting the edge of her chainmail and pulling down her pants, right on her firm, athletic, perfectly shaped…

"Catch." The huntress's voice interrupted the stream of images in my head.

I barely managed to catch the piece of cheese she broke off, keeping one part for herself and throwing the other to me. As she bit into her piece, Scully glanced again at the bundle of black cloth. She paused, then shot me a strange look.

"Something's off here." She smiled, like Morpheus once did when stumbling upon a riddle. "This cloth protects against dark emanations. I handed it to you myself, back at the Crossroads. But I remember buying the cheapest one. And the merchant who sold it said its protective properties don't last long. Plus, it looks worn."

I had to make an effort not to stop her when she reached for the bundle.

The huntress paused for a second, then pulled a simple chain with a small green stone from her belt pouch and held it up to the black fabric. She listened to something only she could hear, nodded sharply, then looked at me and asked in a surprisingly polite voice:

"May I?"

Pretending not to hear the question, I walked over to the fire and used a twig to pull out river stones, examining them as if they were of great value.

"Silence means consent," Scully stated, though she didn't rush to unwrap the fabric.

She hesitated for about ten seconds, but seeing that I was busy with something else and ignoring her, she unwrapped the bundle with what seemed to me unnecessarily sharp movements.

"Oh! How beautiful." Like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake, Scully gazed at the revealed Night Sisters' bracelets.

[1] Translator's note:
—Sir, I'm afraid of you!
—Why?
—You're going to ravish me!
—But I'm out here on the street, and you're on the fifth-floor balcony!
—Sir, I'm going to come down to you!
[2] Translator's note: that's a reference to an old cartoon, where Winnie-the-Pooh walks to the Rabbit, carrying a pot of honey as a gift, "tasting" it along the way, and commenting on how it disappears inexplicably.
[3] Translator's note: this is another well-known reference to that old cartoon. The matching phrase from the English original of the story is "That buzzing-noise means something!"