The descent to the second floor was no more than two kilometers from the entrance to the first. Since it was a route frequently used by high-ranking adventurers, the area was almost always free of enemies.
That day, the rule seemed to favor Nikolai's group — the crossing was smooth, almost a stroll. No sign of Simargl or Upyr.
Ekaterina had a theory: despite being irrational in many ways, the creatures on the first floor seemed to learn — albeit in a rudimentary fashion — to avoid obvious dangers over time. That's why she believed the path between the first and second floor had become, for those creatures, a sort of forbidden zone — like a river that, after claiming many lives, is instinctively avoided. To Ekaterina, even in their primitiveness, those creatures seemed to recognize danger. A flawed, scattered ancestral instinct — but present.
"Alright, everyone,"
Kuzma's voice cut through the heavy air, firm like the sound of a shield planted into the ground.
Ahead of the group, a new staircase finally appeared — now descending even deeper.
"The routes on the second floor aren't as dangerous as the first. But once we're there, we must avoid direct confrontations. Otherwise, we'll attract unwanted attention. We need to stay alert. Totally focused. The price we paid for the rescue was high — but if we're ambushed, there won't be a coin in the world that can bring us all back alive. Remember who our greatest enemy down here is."
"Are you talking about the Leshiy?"
Nikolai asked, his voice heavy with tension.
The second floor always carried a dubious reputation. It was nearly as vast as the first — kilometers of plains and crevices where one could walk for hours without seeing a single creature. But that absence didn't bring relief. It brought paranoia. Because everyone knew: when danger struck there, it didn't come in groups. It came in the form of a single creature — capable of wiping out an entire party alone.
The Leshiy.
They weren't just monsters. They were abominations that brought life where there shouldn't be any. Their excrement, rich in nutrients, transformed the volcanic, barren soil of the second floor into patches of vivid green, moist moss, and twisted roots. Where there were Leshiy, there were gardens… but gardens watered with blood. Many believed that, if captured alive, they could change the eternal winter of the North. Others believed they were relics of an ancient curse.
In practice, they were known by another name in foreign lands, such as the Empire: Trolls. Muscular giants with thick skin and absurd regeneration — each wound closed before your eyes. If cornered or hibernating, they could harden their skin until they became indistinguishable from stone, sleeping for dozens — sometimes hundreds — of years. But the worst part wasn't their strength. The worst was their patience. Over time, the Leshiy learned to hide within the very flora they created, ambushing distracted adventurers with deadly precision.
"Yes,"
Kuzma answered, more serious than ever.
"We'll minimize every fight. Always stay together. No exceptions."
The weight of his words silenced the group. Kuzma had descended many times before, but he was always ten times more tense than on the first floor. Even Daria, always talkative and quick with a word, was quiet, her eyes scanning the shadows. Ekaterina focused, draining more energy than usual. Her Cristerina floated higher, nearly reaching the irregular ceiling of the floor, where the dark stone blended with patches of damp moss. The orb shimmered without color.
Unlike other creatures, whose magic spread in vibrant, turbulent colors, the Leshiy's was subtle, almost austere. A brown so pure it seemed to deny the very nature of light. And it was precisely that purity that made it frightening: easy to mistake for the absence of color, easy to overlook until it was too late.
That's why Ekaterina kept her eyes fixed on the crystal every second. Her hand was steady, but her fingers were white from the pressure. She knew that any unusual pulse, any almost imperceptible change, could mean they were being watched.
With every step the group took, she lifted the Cristerina and let it sweep over the walls and floor like an invisible blade. The silence grew increasingly oppressive, and even the rustling of cloaks sounded far too loud. In the back of her mind, a single truth echoed: the goal was not to find the enemy. It was to discover them before they discovered the group.
She raised the crystal from time to time, the light reflecting off damp walls and pools of cooled lava that trailed like petrified veins. She watched every vibration in the crystal, as if trying to detect the enemy before it detected them. The air smelled of sulfur and strange vegetation, an uncomfortable, almost nauseating mixture.
Nikolai swallowed hard, his hand brushing the hilt of his Xiphos. Ashen, beside him, sniffed low to the ground, fur bristling in silence. There was no cry of any animal, no distant roar — only that heavy silence, as if the floor itself was holding its breath, waiting to see who would make the first move.
Andrei's shield and mace were clean. Strangely, the group had advanced more than two-thirds of the way without encountering a single enemy. But instead of bringing relief, that only made everyone more tense. In Svarog, the more silence and calm there was, the worse the moment would be when something finally appeared.
Despite the tension, Nikolai couldn't help but feel awe. His feet stepped onto low green growth — thick mosses spreading in pulsing life even without sunlight. He had heard stories about it, but had never fully believed. Now, there he was, walking on a living carpet created in the heart of darkness.
"Everyone,"
murmured Kuzma, his voice low like a blade scraping stone,
"we'll rest before moving forward."
The group headed to a nearby depression — not very deep, but perfect for observing the surroundings with minimal exposure. The place was very similar to what they had used on the first floor, but being natural, it didn't offer the same full coverage. Still, it was the best available option. This would be the last safe point before they entered the unknown.
Ekaterina acted without delay: she cast the same sound spell she had used before, but this time to block noise instead of amplify it. The air around them vibrated slightly, creating an almost tangible bubble. The spell consumed more energy than she would have liked, but no one dared to complain. As soon as she finished, she took a small vial from her belt and drank a thick liquid to recover her strength.
Kuzma unrolled the improvised map and pointed to the spot marked by Svetlana:
"We have twenty minutes of rest. Our objective is here."
He tapped the point with his finger.
"There are reports of two or three Leshiy in the area. It's unlikely we'll extract without drawing attention. Our quota is at most one enemy. If it's an adult from the lower levels, we pull back. We don't take the risk."
Everyone nodded in silence. No one needed to be reminded that older Leshiy were practically living walls. Bigger, stronger, more cunning. The advantage was clear: the bigger they were, the more obvious the danger. But that didn't lessen the fear.
"How long until full extraction?"
Kuzma asked bluntly.
Svetlana looked in every direction, nervous. But when she answered, her voice came out precise, as if she had rehearsed the response:
"Two hours at minimum. If someone has gathering magic, we can cut the time. I don't have the power or experience to speed it up beyond that."
Kuzma frowned. Two hours exposed was an eternity. Worse: he didn't want to risk Ekaterina, whose role in a confrontation was vital. Daria also had nothing in her arsenal that could help. He was already calculating how to reorganize the risks when Nikolai spoke up:
"Maybe I can help."
His voice made everyone turn.
"I know a type of extraction magic. It's weak… but cheap and quiet."
"Can you guarantee that?"
Kuzma narrowed his eyes, studying him. He didn't want to take a chance on something foolish. He'd rather pull back and return the payment than lose someone to a rookie mistake.
Before he could decide, Ekaterina approached and whispered something in his ear. The leader looked shocked, but then his eyes lit up with understanding.
"Very well,"
said Kuzma.
"Ekaterina will test you. Do you accept?"
"Of course,"
Nikolai straightened up.
"What do I need to do?"
Ekaterina pulled from a discreet pouch an irregular stone, embedded with metallic veins that glowed under the light of the Cristerina.
"This rock contains rhodium. A precious metal, with a silvery-white shine. The problem is that it embeds itself into stone in a nearly invisible way. Use your extraction magic here. If you can separate the ore from the rock without destroying it, then you can help Svetlana."
Ekaterina's crystal floated in the background, pulsing softly without indicating any enemy presence. The silence inside the barrier was absolute. The group's tension shifted into anticipation, as if they weren't about to witness a test… but a first battle.
Nikolai pulled from inside his chest the worn little book he always carried. He had memorized every page, every sigil, every footnote. He knew what each spell did — at least in theory. But theory didn't stop the trembling in his hands. Too nervous to rely on memory alone, he chose to reread. The silence around him was dense; every gaze from the group weighed on him like a blade ready to fall.
Svetlana approached Kuzma, her expression tense, ready to question him for letting a rookie take on something so critical. But the leader raised his hand, firm, without taking his eyes off Nikolai. The gesture silenced any objection.
What Svetlana didn't know was that everyone, except Nikolai, fully understood the gravity of the test. Among all extractions, rhodium was the most unforgiving. Even experienced masters took hours — sometimes days — to extract a significant amount without draining their energy to the point of collapse. She knew that even the few blacksmiths who had blue bears, extraction magic, and experience would struggle to perform the task in half a day, let alone in a few hours.
To Svetlana, there were only two possible outcomes: either the boy would faint after draining all his magic, or they would simply waste time watching a doomed attempt. And yet, there was something in the group's silence. An almost irrational expectation, as if they believed a miracle was about to happen.
"Okay… Ashen, help me here,"
Nikolai called.
The bear approached, setting his heavy paw beside him. He sniffed the stone attentively, eyes glowing with instinctive recognition. Nikolai closed his eyes and let impossible words slip from his lips. Ancient syllables, a strange melody, carried by a rhythm that seemed to be born from the stone itself.
Kuzma shivered. That cadence… that vibration… it was the same he'd heard years ago, when he met the boy's mother.
"So he really does…"
he murmured, but his voice was lost, muffled by the group's absolute focus on Nikolai.
After nearly an hour, the stone in the boy's hands began to sweat a white, viscous liquid, which soon gathered into a sphere suspended in the air. The environment was filled with a dense smell of ozone and burnt iron. Minutes later, the rock gave way — crumbling into dust and sand — until only a pulsating sphere remained, the size of a human eye: pure condensed rhodium.
Nikolai picked it up carefully and handed it to Ekaterina. The shock on her face was impossible to hide: eyes wide, mouth ajar.
"I… did I pass?"
he asked, uncertain, since the stone had been destroyed during the extraction.
Ekaterina took a deep breath, still in disbelief, and forced a smile.
"Are you okay? I mean… do you still have magic left? How much more can you manage?"
The questions came in a cascade. Nikolai blinked, unsure where to begin, but at least he could gauge his own exhaustion:
"It was harder than I thought,"
he admitted.
"I think I used up at least thirty percent of my reserve. I'm not sure I can help much more."
Ekaterina sighed, stepping back. What she had believed to be impossible had just been dismantled before her eyes. The world she knew was trembling at the edges.
Svetlana, on the other hand, couldn't close her mouth. She was frozen between shock and reverence.
"He's a monster…"
she whispered, more to herself than to the others.