Solo Strategy

Approaching the house, I knocked on the door. Today, knowing I would be returning late, I had left the keys and the protection control amulet with Katashi. Really, I ought to have another set made through the insula headman—that was the protocol in Deytran if you rented a house for a long term. The young blacksmith opened the door fairly quickly. He looked a bit disheveled: his hands were covered in glue, and his work apron had some oily stains.

"Did you start making the glider without me?" I asked, stepping inside.

"No, I'm conducting experiments with Ptah wood and valirium."

Judging by his satisfied look, those experiments were quite successful.

Entering the workshop, I noted that the Future God of Labor hadn't wasted any time today. He had already procured Ptah wood, the missing valirium, and some bottles and flasks filled with unidentifiable goo.

"Couldn't find the right fabric at a suitable price?" I asked, finishing my inspection of the room.

"Found it," Katashi countered, sitting down at the table and applying something like varnish to a piece of Ptah wood. "I even made arrangements with a craftsman who will make the sail and additional patches. The fabric with the properties we need will be ready in three days."

"Was the money enough?" I inquired just in case.

"More than enough," the Japanese nodded proudly, without interrupting his work. "The prices are, of course, outrageous, but if we want the best, we shouldn't skimp."

"I completely agree with that," I supported the young craftsman.

In response, Katashi gave me a look that I understood without words: "Of course, you'd agree, since you're the one who'll be going up a kilometer high!"

After going to the courtyard and washing up, I returned to the workshop and sat on a stool, not interfering with the Japanese's work. I guessed he was very curious about how my day had gone, but due to his heightened tact, he wouldn't ask himself. So I raised the subject myself:

"I had quite a hectic day today. We thought the sect I told you about was trying to reach me, but it turned out to be completely different people. I involved so many folks in this operation for nothing. In the end, it was just someone curious to learn more about the new Sheriff of the Book, the first to appear in three hundred years."

"Sheriffs of the Book are that rare?" the future God of Labor asked, looking up from the wood in his hands.

"That title is given not just to any sheriffs of the Great Guilds, but to those whom the Book of Ishid personally appoints to the post," and I added at once, "a divine artifact left to people by the god of rituals and ceremonies himself."

"So, you're one of those chosen..."

The Japanese's eyes betrayed his surprise, as well as the fact that he considered the divine artifact's choice at least strange.

"I'm not quite sure how it happened," I shrugged. "As I told you, I helped resolve a conflict between the local tunnellers and earthlings, and then..."

We had discussed this before, but it seemed only now the young blacksmith realized that a Sheriff of the Book was more than just an ordinary position. He looked at me as if sitting next to a manga hero and said:

"I'm glad everything's okay with you."

I hoped he was genuinely glad and that his words weren't just an expression of Eastern politeness.

"Do you need my help?" I asked, watching what he was doing.

"Not today," the future God of Labor shook his head.

"Then I'll head upstairs. If you need me, just call," I said, getting up from the stool.

Katashi simply nodded and returned to his experiments. I didn't know what he was doing, but if necessary, he'd explain it later.

Returning to my bedroom, I kicked off my boots and sprawled out on the bed. Physically, I felt great after the priests of Elai had worked on me, but my moral state was a different story. All today's adventures had thrown me off balance. I had been expecting a meeting with representatives of the Righteous Elevation Sect, perhaps a kidnapping or recruitment, but in the end, it was all just a confusing mess.

Who would go to such lengths just to interrogate me? And the questions were incredibly odd. Maybe if Cadence the Golden Chime hadn't recognized me as a Sheriff of the Book and had been a bit braver, there would have been more specific inquiries, but alas, the bard slipped away, and I would never find out. Would it be worth sending mercenaries after him? No. Too costly, and there was no guarantee of success. Judging by the level of preparation of the unknowns who managed to outsmart even experienced assassins, they might just eliminate Cadence if they felt any threat.

Yeah... a baffling situation. If I had been watching a film made on Earth, I would have suspected some secret service at work. But there were no such things yet in Ain. The Alchemists and Artifactors had investigation departments, but they were busy with other matters. Besides, if it were the former, Kiadi would have warned me—he served in such a department and held a very high position, almost like a deputy head. As for the Artifactors, they would have first asked about the Boundless Pride, as only the knowledge that I found this artifact could have prompted them to such an operation. But then again, the Artifactors would have acted differently, especially since the Pride was currently in a safe at one of their branches. They simply had no reason to interrogate me in such a manner, let alone do it so secretly. So, who else could I have crossed? Moreover, this someone knew about Ridan. Perhaps my mysterious adversary indeed had sent the best Wootz fighter to the First Crossroad. The trouble was, I had no idea who this "someone" could be. Not a single coherent thought on the matter.

Very bad. Very. Not knowing who your enemy was—that was worse than any ambush. At any moment, you could expect a stab in the back, and the scariest part was not knowing whose hand would deliver it. It was like walking on a narrow bridge in the fog, sensing an invisible gaze on your back every second.

Apparently, I would have to find Morpheus as soon as possible and share a carefully edited version of events with him. He always loved riddles, adored playing Sherlock Holmes, and I was sure he would gladly join the investigation. Maybe, while the fabric for the wing was being prepared, it really was worth running to Kronis and looking for Morpheus there? However, considering the mysterious Balance mentioned by the questers, meeting him might lead to much bigger problems in the future. But that would be later. The unknown enemy, however, not getting the needed answers, might try to eliminate me—quickly and silently, like removing an extra piece from a chessboard.

I spent half an hour restlessly on the bed, going over possible options, then suddenly got up and went down to the workshop.

"Kay, will you need me in the next couple of days?" I asked, watching the Japanese secure a piece of Ptah wood on the workbench.

"Not really. Why?" the young blacksmith inquired without looking up.

"Thinking of jogging over to Kronis," I replied, shrugging.

"Jogging over? Four hundred and fifty kilometers? You have strange ideas about jogging," he said in a completely neutral tone, making it impossible to tell if he was joking or not.

"Kronis is famous for its libraries. I want to learn more about the previous Sheriffs of the Book," I lied.

"What about your Air magic training?"

"I had a bit of a falling out with Master Eddart for appearances' sake, so if I skip a few days of training, it will seem natural," I explained.

"For appearances' sake?" the Japanese repeated.

"Never mind. It's because of that operation I mentioned," I waved it off. "So, what do you think?"

"In about three days, your help would be quite useful," the corners of the young blacksmith's lips tensed slightly.

"I'll be back by then," I assured the future God of Labor.

"Do as you wish; I'm not your nanny," Katashi replied, seemingly with a hint of irritation.

"Then I'll leave the house keys with you. If you plan to be away for long, leave them at the marshal. And a small request: in the morning, send a message through the street boys to Master Eddart that I won't be in the city for the next two days. And if a package arrives from the Alchemists' Guild, take it to my bedroom." I believed I hadn't forgotten anything.

"Will do," the Japanese said curtly, not looking up from his work.

Heading up to the armory-office, I donned my armor. I decided to leave my travel backpack behind, only attaching a small bag to my belt with some food for a quick snack on the go. I wouldn't have bothered with the armor, but today's events made me more cautious about my safety. Of course, I also took Striking Whisper with me, along with the Thunder Dagger and the First Feather. After saying goodbye to Katashi, who just nodded in response, I left the house and quickly made my way to the north gate. I passed through the little side gate, which was still open even so late at night, and found myself outside the city walls.

The young blacksmith had mentioned a distance of four hundred fifty kilometers to Kronis, but I planned to shorten the journey by traveling off-road, closer to the area of the Mist surrounding Divino Mountain. That should have cut the way by more than a quarter.

Tonight, Seguna shone quite brightly, with almost no clouds in the sky, so one could run without much fear of stepping wrong and twisting an ankle. The first five kilometers I ran along the trade route, but when it started to veer slightly east, I left it. Putting on my helmet and fastening the straps, I sped up. The ground beneath my feet was rocky, with only sparse tufts of grass. People didn't settle this close to the sacred mountain, as it was considered sacrilege, and the land wasn't suitable for agriculture. However, running on such a surface was almost as easy as on roads, except for occasionally having to jump over particularly large boulders.

Legends had it that before the Fall, the foot of Divino Mountain was adorned with magnificent gardens, but now, not a trace of them remained. Once, springs of life had burst forth here; now there lay a barren plain—dead, its pulse long since gone, yet still drawing the eye.

This time, I didn't waste time training with my spear, practicing acrobatics, or testing the durability of my boots, so I moved faster than usual. The only thing I did besides running was developing my Wind Sense. This aura allowed me to perceive the path ahead more clearly, marking large obstacles in the darkness that the air currents had to circumvent. It was Wind Sense that first alerted me to the approaching Mist Wall. Perceived through this aura, it seemed strange: almost impenetrable to air, yet breathing and "alive," like a giant creature slowly turning in the night.

In the darkness, the Divino Mist looked especially impressive. A whitish wall, a hundred meters high, stretched seemingly to the horizon. It didn't stand still but lived its own life: rolling like giant waves onto the nearby rocks and retreating back, as if sucking in the very air. Strange glimmers were born in its depths, and in these distorted reflections, the sky seemed alien, as if shown by a warped mirror.

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The Mist Wall couldn't be flown over. If you rose above its limit, a mighty air current would catch and turn you around, as if the mountain itself repelled the intruder. Try to break through, ignoring this warning, and Divino would destroy you without mercy, like an outsider stepping into a forbidden garden. The gods had fallen, but their "home" still reliably guarded its secrets, keeping uninvited guests away. Most locals feared the Mist, and it was understandable. It truly frightened, its alien nature touching some hidden fears in people's souls. If I hadn't known it was safe, I would never have dared to approach it. But, thanks to the memory of the future, I had that knowledge.

After running along the Mist Wall for about thirty kilometers, I couldn't resist experimenting. I stopped, approached the Wall closely, and when the wave of Mist receded again, I quickly caught up with it and stepped into the whitish haze.

The world around me collapsed into a milky void. The air thickened, filling my lungs with a viscous coolness. Pressure bore down from all sides, as if I were being crushed by icy hands. The first step was easy, the second heavier; by the third, my legs felt like they were sinking into a quagmire, and on the fourth, I hit a wall as dense as solidified jelly. Every breath became a trial, my ears felt blocked, and it seemed as if silhouettes were about to emerge from the pale depths. Gathering my strength, I leaned in with my whole body, barely lifted my leg, and took another step forward—but a moment later, I found myself back at the edge where I had entered. Some unknown force had turned me around and pushed me out, as if the Mist itself rejected my presence.

I remembered that this was how it was supposed to be. The Mist didn't let anyone beyond who hadn't reached the Mithril rank. If it were otherwise, I would have come up with something and sent all the earthlings I've met here, to the Mist, under some pretext, asking them to go as far as possible—easily identifying all the Shards unknown to me so far. But even Shards who hadn't reached Mithril couldn't go further than five steps before being expelled. A pity, it would have solved many of my problems.

I recalled that in the Last Cycle "I" first came to the Divino Mist already at the Diamond rank and spent a whole day stepping into it, trying to understand what exactly pushed me back out. But in the end, I found no explanation other than divine will or some unique magic. So this time, I didn't waste time repeating what had already been done. I confirmed that the Memory of the Future and the Adamantium Achievements weren't a pass into the Mist—and left it at that.

So I kept running, staying a few hundred meters away from the Mist. To my slight surprise, probably due to the Mist's unusual properties and its strange interaction with the surrounding air, I managed to advance further in my understanding of Wind Sense. It was as if I'd spent an extra week in lessons with the former captain of the Trade League. I began to sense even the faintest air currents much more clearly and predict changes in the wind's direction far better. This detail was worth remembering—and, when I next saw Arien, telling her about it: the future Goddess of Spontaneous Magic would surely find a use for it.

I reached the City of History around ten in the morning. I could have arrived even earlier, but I misaligned my course by the stars and turned north too late, making a thirty-kilometer detour.

Unlike the other cities of Pentapolis, Kronis had no suburbs beyond its walls. There were no numerous trading shops and warehouses like in Deytran, nor the slums that sprawled like a dirty blot under Feyst. Kronis seemed to deliberately distance itself from any hustle and bustle, leaving the space clean so that nothing obscured its appearance.

Even the walls of the City of Knowledge themselves resembled a work of art more than ordinary defensive structures. Ornate and "airy," they seemed to float, rising to a height of ten meters without visible support. Their surface shimmered with shades of light stone and old marble, and in the morning sun, the pattern of the masonry came to life, turning into a sparkling ornament, as if the walls were woven from intertwined lines of light and shadow. From afar, it seemed like a transparent veil separating the real world from a repository of ancient memory. But this impression was deceptive. Beneath the apparent fragility lay strength: if necessary, Kronis could withstand a prolonged siege. Hidden fortifications lay dormant within these "airy" arches, and the masonry itself was reinforced with magic and fused with something far stronger than ordinary stone. The City of History again demonstrated its duality: beauty and knowledge for the eyes, but strength and protection for those who dared to test its resilience.

There wasn't a long queue at the gates, unlike in other cities of the Pentapolis. I simply walked past the guards, showing the Sign of the Sheriff, without paying a single coin for entry.

Once inside the city walls, I was immediately immersed in an unusual atmosphere of tranquility and contemplation. Very wide streets, as if designed on purpose for unhurried walks, ran in parallel lines, and down their centers stretched well-kept alleys shaded by trees.

The city was literally immersed in greenery: gardens and groves scattered everywhere, seamlessly intertwined with the unique overall architecture, while numerous parks with fountains and statues created the sensation of being in a space meant not for haste, but for reflection. The environment itself encouraged a meditative mood, urging one to stop, inhale the fragrance of herbs and flowers, and ponder something greater than everyday life.

In size, Kronis was no larger than Tries, but it had even fewer inhabitants. This gave the city a strange impression—it seemed always in a state of half-sleep, like a sage lost in thought. There was no sense of the tension of trade, the bustle of caravans, or the pressure of crowds; instead, everything spoke of leisure and reflection.

Kronis was a city of temples and libraries. A city of scholars and philosophers. Tall colonnades, repositories of scrolls and books, abodes of priests and teachers stretched block after block, and the streets often led directly to spacious squares where small groups of people gathered on temple steps or by the warm stone walls of libraries. The loudest sounds here were not the cries of merchants or the clang of blacksmiths' hammers, but the voices debating the nature of the universe, the meaning of life, or various manifestations of divine powers. These voices carried no aggression but the passion for truth-seeking, and they seemed as natural a part of the city's landscape as the rustle of leaves or the splash of water in fountains.

Unlike Deytran, where every stone breathed greed and commercial calculation, or Feyst, where wealth and poverty clashed in a grotesque dance of avarice, Kronis was like an island of tranquility lost in a sea of bustle. Here, profit did not reign, chance held no sway, and falsehood did not linger—the City of History lived by reason and contemplation, as if it had severed itself from the other centers of Pentapolis to preserve what mattered most: memory, wisdom, and the pursuit of knowledge balanced by the preservation of tradition.

Every square in the City of History was uniquely paved with mosaics, whose patterns formed intricate labyrinths. Local children especially loved deciphering them, running across the tiles and carving their own paths, as if searching for hidden trails of knowledge left by ancient masters. But sometimes adults lingered on these mosaics too: some, smiling, helped a child find the right way, while others unwittingly got drawn into the game, which turned into a quiet meditation where footsteps matched the rhythm of thoughts.

What could I say, a beautiful city, but not quite my style. I preferred the bustling business of Deytran. Though, if I were to rank the cities of Ain, Kronis would undoubtedly take second place.

As far as I "remembered," Morpheus first appeared in the City of History as soon as he achieved the Wootz rank, and he almost immediately made an indelible impression on the local philosophers. Within just a week, he gained significant authority among them and became something of a local star. If Morpheus's starting position in Ain hadn't changed much, as was the case with Arien and Katashi, he should have already visited the City of History and earned a certain reputation here.

For the first two hours, I just wandered around the city, listening to debates in the squares. But I didn't hear a single mention of Morpheus or any other philosopher with a new worldview.

Then I visited the Temple of Aerad, where I made relatively generous offerings, which loosened the tongue of one of the junior priests, but he, too, had nothing to say about anyone who looked at the world from a different angle.

Next, I entered the city's main library—a massive three-story building that seemed crammed from basement to roof with various scrolls and records. Narrow, tall windows let in soft light, which scattered in the dust, turning it into a golden haze. On each floor, long rows of shelves and stands stretched, filled to the ceilings with books, scrolls, clay tablets, and even some strange plates of unknown metal covered in inscriptions. A unique smell lingered here—a mix of old parchment, dried ink, dust, and candle wax. In this silence, only the rustle of turning pages and the muted voices of scholars were heard, arguing as passionately as in the squares, but much more restrained and quieter. Perhaps this was how the famous Library of Alexandria, which burned down in antiquity, looked.

I "remembered" that Morpheus loved spending time here, immersing himself in the history of the new world. It was here, for example, that he found the first mention of that dungeon, at the entrance of which I had gathered precious gems. He found the mention, got hooked on it, continued digging—and then his findings were used by the group that eventually discovered that natural treasure trove.

But even here, no one had heard of a new scholar or philosopher.

Strange.

Apparently, the questers in this Cycle had thrown Morpheus into some other region, like me—somewhere very far from Pentapolis. Or maybe this brilliant man was already dead due to some absurd accident he couldn't foresee. Yet I didn't want to think about such a possibility, believing that I would still meet Morpheus. Just not today.

Though it was a pity it wasn't today. I had hoped to involve him in the investigation, but it seemed it wasn't meant to be, and I had made the long journey in vain. Of course, "memory of the future" held some of Kronis's secrets, firmly forgotten by the locals. But to access those secrets, such as the hidden room in the main library sealed with an adamantium sacred barrier, I needed to cross the Second Wall.

In the end, by around six in the evening, I finished my search and decided to return to Deytran. But before that, I strolled through the numerous shops and bought several scrolls for Katashi, which described the properties of various rare materials, including Ptah wood. I was sure the Japanese could figure it all out on his own, but it was better for him to start with some local groundwork rather than from scratch.

As I stepped out onto the city's central square, I noticed a familiar figure sitting by the fountain.

Felicia.

The one who, in this Cycle, took Miranda's place next to Arien. Unlike Miranda, who by this time, as far as I "remembered," had already stepped beyond the First Wall, Felicia was only at Wootz. Though, she might have been close to the Opal step already.

"Hey, what an unexpected meeting," I greeted, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

The girl was dressed in the local fashion—a female version of a loose tunic made of light fabric, falling in soft folds to her ankles. A thin belt cinched her waist, accentuating her figure, and the fabric was held on her shoulders by silvery clasps. The colors were calm, pastel, as was appropriate for guests of the City of Knowledge. A ribbon of the guest sign hung around her neck.

"Raven?" Turning to me, the assistant of the future Goddess of Spontaneous Magic was genuinely surprised.

"In the flesh," I nodded in a playful bow.

"Weren't you headed to Deytran?" Felicia asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I was," I nodded. "Even rented a house in the trade capital. But I dropped by Kronis on business, briefly, and I'm soon heading back, planning to leave the city before sunset."

"And how is it in Deytran?" she inquired, dipping her hand into the water.

"Hectic, compared to Kronis," I smiled. "And since you're here, I guess Arien has chosen the main base for the Ainuminati."

"She has," Felicia agreed, then waved her hand and added, "You'll find out soon anyway, so there's no point in hiding it. The main base will be in Atreia, but we're planning to open a guild branch in Kronis. Most of the guild has already set out from Katiyer, and Arien herself will arrive later, once she finishes all her business at the old place and passes through Sundbad's Gate."

"Interesting choice," I said. "The main guild base will be closer to the Alchemists' Guild, and you can also get unique ingredients from Elai's Tower."

"Maybe so," Felicia shrugged, not bothering to explain. "Hey, were you the one who wrote that notice in English I read on the Tunnellers' Guild notice board yesterday?"

"But it's signed," I replied, surprised.

"As if you were being very original when choosing such a pseudonym," she grimaced. "But the idea with these notices is quite intriguing; I think we'll adopt it."

Interesting, did Arien deliberately choose assistants who loved to tease me? Last Cycle, Miranda, in this one—Felicia. As if she were sure she should always have someone at her side to keep me on my toes. Though of course that wasn't really the case.

"Who ended up becoming the guild strategist?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Your protégé," the girl smirked. "Say what you will about Arien, but she knows how to listen to reasonable ideas."

"Clement will manage," I said confidently.

If he had become one of Nate's three guards in the Last Cycle, then the position of strategist in the Ainuminati was definitely within his capabilities.

"I heard an idea that might interest Arien," I leaned in and lowered my voice.

"If it's such a good idea, why don't you take it on yourself?" the assistant to the future Goddess of Spontaneous Magic frowned.

"I'm, of course, cool, strong, and pretty much the ideal man…"

The girl snorted at my self-praise.

"But in organizational skills, I fall short of the head of Ainuminati."

"I'll listen, but no promises," Felicia replied after some thought.

"You probably know that the cost of passing through Sundbad's Gates largely depends on a person's rank?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"I do."

"So..."

And I explained the possibility of creating Ain's first centralized postal system using Wooden Rank couriers and Sundbad's Gates. From the questions Felicia asked after hearing me out, I knew the idea intrigued her. I also didn't forget to hint that whoever controls the information controls the world. And, of course, particularly interesting letters could be read too—carefully opened, of course, and then reliably sealed back up.

Our discussion about the postal theme dragged on almost until sunset. After that, I said goodbye to the assistant of the future Goddess of Spontaneous Magic and left Kronis with a light heart.

Sure, I didn't find Morpheus and didn't get any closer to solving my problems, but I definitely did something useful by getting Felicia interested in the postal matter. I was sure no one would handle organizing such a service across all Ain better than my ex.