Neither of them had anything important to do, Prof did what he wanted (as long he found enough money in some murder-hole), he had no obligations or connections, and Foxy was practically sent on “extended research leave” from the Academy. The circumstances were not entirely clear to Prof, but the gist was that there were some deaths and no one would have shed a tear if Foxy never returned.

Because the Academy was located in the yellow capital, the west wasn’t exactly a good option for Foxy, and from there further to the West lay the territory of the Greens, who weren’t overly friendly to stray tourists in their woods (but that was common to most other Elves), then came some dangerous territory and finally Greenskins.

The eastern direction did not interest Prof too much, he spent his whole life in Human society, so if he had arrived in such a magical place, he wanted to see unknown species and their cities. Eventually, they decided to head West anyway, look for the market town or marketplace that should be somewhere in the area, and then see what opportunities they had in the North and South. In addition, Prof needed some money – the bear meat inevitably spoiled – for some purchases.

For a longer trip, it wouldn’t have hurt to have a horse (or rather two: one for riding, one for the pack), a few spare pieces of clothing (that were not leftovers from a peasant-cosplay-con), a complete set of camping gear, food, and drinks, and, as the previous example showed, he needed to raise one or two of his Skills.

Doing some quick calculations, he realized, he would need at least sixty-five silver, not counting Health Potions and training. If he had managed to sell his loot from the last dungeon and the “refrigerated” bear meat for good money, and counting all his cash he might be able scratch enough together. And would be broke. Even if he included the various jewelry he kept, he would not have much money left for Potions. And for accommodation. And training. And spending money for the near future.

Since he wasn’t planning on selling his last liquid assets, he was forced to go into his dungeon again – this time he didn’t plan for a full clear, only the rabbit horns and the crystals in one of the rooms in the maze interested him. He didn’t even plan to kill the über-rat in the mossy room. Leaving most of his belongings behind, he started his quick raid before dark, reassuring Foxy that he would return in an hour or two.

Since he was already familiar with the dungeon’s tricks, he was not surprised by the traps, the rabbit’s charge, the intoxicating evaporation of the mossy room, or the dead ends of the maze. What was disappointing, however, was that the crystals were much smaller than in his first run. Prof could not decide if that was because they could not yet been replaced to their previous size, or after the first run, there were fewer rewards for enterprising Adventurers. Even so, he managed to collect loot worth roughly twenty pieces of silver, and that was enough to cover much of the cost for potions.

The next unpleasant surprise greeted Prof in the mossy rat room: this time the giant rat watched him attentively as he walked carefully over the moss blanket and the moment he headed for the exit, threw itself after him with a deafening scream. From the cave leading to the third room, the instant wild boar stew (with mushrooms!) came out, followed by that little bastard of a face-hugger raccoon. Obviously, the dungeon didn't like someone just jumping in for a quick loot and leaving without saying goodbye.

Prof knew he could have smashed any of the three animals on their own without much problem – as he had done before – but he didn't gave himself much of a chance against the three at once. Not to mention that there were normal-sized rats deep in the dungeon, that could show up anytime, anywhere. Prof hoped very strongly that the man-eating botany could not leave its room.

It took a moment to make a decision: Prof executed a flexible disengagement and a tactical re-positioning – that is, he started running towards the exit with full force. No matter how high his Agility was, ultimately two things saved him from having the cave-dwelling animals feast on him (preferably his corpse, being eaten alive wasn’t something you can build a successful spa on): his magical badge, and the fact that he had the advantage of a few meters head-start.

He still stumbled on the pitfall in front of the door, but instead of trying to catch himself, he put everything into a last jump. Tumble, more likely. With his not-really-olympic-winner move, he cleared the door to the dungeon head first and rolled a couple times before the entrance wall stopped him. The door to the bunker slammed angrily behind him as he got up.

“Foxy, I think the dungeon is a little upset that I didn't go through all the rooms, I just made a run for a few things. Is this normal?” Prof asked as he left the cave.

“Upset how?”

“It sent all the monsters alive at me at once.”

“It isn’t normal for something like this happen, however, the vast majority of Adventurers wouldn’t have left the dungeon alive and told the tale. The accepted theories say dungeons have some intelligence, many say they feed on the energy emitted by Adventurers – the longer they stay inside and the more they fight, the more energy the dungeon gets. If there is any truth in the theory, than by barely fighting, but taking the valuables away quickly, the dungeon will receive less energy than it spends creating treasures and monsters. Like all theories, this has its weaknesses, but it still makes more sense than to see the Heavenly Game Master’s plan in them.”

It sounded good as a theory, there were plenty of novels on Earth dealing with the inner life of the dungeons, and a similar explanations were given there. Prof decided to avoid fast looting runs as much as possible in the future. At least in dungeons where man-eating plants, exploding pigs, and intoxicating mossy carpets were also present. Or anything like that. So, probably, in most of the dungeons.

Prof was about to go back to the camp after cleaning himself, when he noticed Shinead on the trail. Even from a distance, the girl was visibly covered with a layer of soot and dirt, and as she got closer, the tears in her clothes became visible too. Although she was carrying a huge backpack on her back and a sack in each of her hands, the empty-eyed staggering she did as a parody of walking was probably not caused by the load.

“Shinead! What happened? Are you okay? Give me the stuff! Come! You can wash yourself at the spring here!”

She didn't even respond to Prof, though it wasn't the previous arrogant disregard, but rather a broken indifference. Nor was she able to protest when Prof picked up the packs and led her to the spring. Prof wondered for a moment if he would survive the next few minutes if he helped Shinead wash, but when he saw the girl just staring at the water with an empty look, he decided to take the risk. He washed her face and hands at first, but realized that there was dirt even under the torn peasant shirt.

“Shinead… I remember you promised I would die slowly if I touched you, but you are dirty. Your clothes are also largely trash. You have two options: you can wash and change yourself, or I will undress and wash you myself. For that I need to touch you. What should it be?”

The girl was instantly pulled out of her total apathy, stared into Prof’s eyes for a few moments, then took the soap out of his hand, dug out some clean clothes from her pack, and began to undress. Prof took this as a hint that she could handle the cleaning herself, and not a call to do the horizontal tango, so he picked up the packs and headed back to the camp.

“My friend just arrived!” he informed Foxy “She is still cleaning by the spring, I will get some food ready. I think she will need to rest tomorrow, so we can head to the town the day after tomorrow. If you have no other plans."

“What kind of important plan can one have here in the middle of the woods? What kind of rest? We may not have any specific plans as of now, but we should be able to find something more meaningful when camping in the middle of the forest!”

“My friend came back from the clan territory, and she’s pretty much exhausted...”

„From a clan territory?!? Do you know who has clan territories around here?!? And what are they famous for?!? Who managed to fuck you over like that?”

Prof then realized he hadn't told her anything about Shinead the whole time, Foxy didn't even know they were waiting for a red elf.

“Accidentally, I can answer that. The Red Elves have territories in the area, and are famous for kicking out the teeth of those who annoy them by existing. After that they suffer an unexplained, fatal accident. Anyway, I am here because my friend is a Red Elf too, and managed to save her life and escorted her home.”

“Your. Friend. Is. A. Red. Elf” Foxy spoke in the tone reserved for parents who’s little dumbshit kid came home from the “special” school with the news, he got the Nobel Prize “Whose life you saved. Please tell me you didn't gave her a weapon!”

“Actually twice. First in the village a knife and a bow, and second I found her lost family dagger. Was that a bad idea?”

“Depends. If the Red in question takes it as an insult that he owes a majom, ​​and that more than once… No you wouldn’t be alive in that case. On the other hand, there is a chance that the clan will consider it an insult that one of the members owes a majom. It all depends on how binding the clan feels the traditions are when it comes to a majom.”

“A Klánom tiszteli a hagyományokat! És elismeri a Vértartozást!” The elf girl approached the camp unnoticed, with an intense stare, as if it was an insult to breath the air with some lifeform even lower than Prof.

“Mivel életben van, igazat mondasz. Bemutatkozhatok? Foxy Delahay a nevem. Benned kit tisztelhetek, Kishugom? ”

Foxy straightened herself, head held high, fingers curved into claws.

“The Rabid?” at least the girls have returned to speak Bergian.