After what seemed like nearly half a day of walking, the horizon finally opened up.
The wind lashed the valley like invisible blades — biting the students' faces, tearing their lips, and filling their eyes with tears.
The early afternoon snow fell thick, covering everything in white… except what lay before them.
The cyclopean black stone walls rose in a circle — a necklace of colossal teeth embedded in the heart of the earth.
Erected centuries ago, they were smooth, polished by the never-ending winter itself.
There was no ignoring them: they weren't just walls, they were the boundary between two worlds.
Even with wide strides, it took nearly five minutes to cross that colossus, whose width seemed infinite.
And when they finally passed through the great black gate, inside the Ring...
The Tower of Svarog.
It was impossible not to feel it as something alive. A shadowy needle, made of stone so polished it reflected the gray sky even under the weight of snow.
At the top, seven claws of black stone opened, tearing through the clouds as if to imprison them — and in the center, an unblinking eye: blue and pale.
The tower seemed to breathe. To watch. To judge.
But it wasn't its imposing presence that knocked the air from the novices. It was the brutal contrast with its surroundings.
Where snow should have been, there was only scorched black earth. Where a frozen river should have flowed, only steaming pits remained — furnaces that never rested. Rows of chimneys spewed dark smoke that fought against the white of winter, staining the falling snowflakes — gray, dirty, soaked in soot.
The glacial silence of the North was swallowed by a constant, muffled sound coming from deep below: the noise of living things moving inside the holes.
The novices looked at each other, some growing pale. The feeling was clear: they weren't just entering an ordinary place… but a living prison.
A heart of stone and iron beating against nature itself.
At the center of it all, motionless and proud, between the seven claws, the unblinking eye suddenly turned toward the novices, startling all those who had never seen it before.
Nikolai had heard reports of what it was like, but seeing it in person was something else entirely — far more intense.
The eye didn't seem to care about the new group, shifting its focus away soon after.
But the feeling it left behind, even if brief, was clear: nothing could be hidden from that dreadful, cruel, pale gaze — an eye indifferent to the cold, the snow, time, and the hell surrounding it.
The voice of the student who accompanied them came out deep, heavy with warning:
" The Tower of Svarog will be our dwelling for the night. In case of any breakout from the lower levels, we'll be safe inside."
" The eye that protects all is always watching. And you need not be afraid — although it is an ancient, unknown, and powerful magic, it has always been on our side."
" At night, no creature dares challenge its power and attack the tower."
" During the day, it functions as an alarm for the inhabitants of Svarog."
He paused, letting the cold wind reinforce his words and pave the way for what was to come.
" You need not worry about any creature escaping from Svarog: the walls surrounding us, as you must have noticed, are as thick as mountains, and their height prevents any escape."
" But this applies to us as well. The gates we passed through are opened with magic, but remain open for only one day every five — and only during daylight."
" Once we pass through the gate and enter the wall… in here, everything can — and will — try to kill you."
" The creatures are trapped inside — but so are we."
A collective shiver ran down the line. Some novices shifted nervously, others tried to mask it with bravado.
Nikolai, however, made no attempt to hide it.
His heart pounded hard.
And beside him, Ashen growled low — as if even the bear sensed they were entering a territory older and more dangerous than any war with the Empire.
Inside the tower, the first floor looked like a large hall for rest and preparation — with dimensions far greater than it appeared from the outside.
The walls were wide, supported by dark beams that smelled of smoke and burnt iron.
Right at the entrance, a huge board dominated the view: on it hung old portraits, announcements, and bounties — some so worn out that the faces depicted were barely distinguishable.
Behind long black stone counters, elderly women sat motionless, like statues. All had small black bears at their feet, waiting in silence, their heavy breathing filling the hall like a constant reminder of latent strength. Their eyes — sometimes human, sometimes animal — scanned each new face that entered.
This time, Marina did not delegate the explanation. She stepped forward firmly, her eyes burning as always, and dismissed the older student who had previously led the session.
" Dmitry, thank you. I'll take it from here."
" The honor is mine." — the young man replied, bowing with almost religious respect before stepping away.
Marina then turned to the students. Her voice echoed, cold and direct:
" Very well. The veterans already know what to do. For the new ones, pay attention."
She waited until the older students rushed to the counters, presenting their belongings and receiving notes and items from the women. To Nikolai, it was still a mystery.
" Now then. Here, on the first floor, you'll have three main functions." — she raised her hand, marking the points with her fingers. — "Trade what you've earned. Receive missions. And negotiate."
Marina's eyes swept through the line, lingering several seconds on each face.
" Missions are nothing more than requests from Medved, from the Fort, or even from Feodorovna — who, if you don't know, is the one in charge of this place."
Meat, hides, hunting materials… almost anything can be bought or sold on this floor.
Of course, prices vary. Today, a fang might be worth a gold ring; tomorrow, not even a piece of bread.
So stay alert to price fluctuations and the best place to sell.
Some novices swallowed hard. The idea of turning their own hunt into currency seemed more brutal than any battle.
" As for negotiations, remember this:" — she paused for a moment, her tone even sharper — "no one loses anything in here."
" If someone seems to have lost... it's because you let something slip by that you didn't notice."
That said, Marina stepped up to one of the counters. The old woman stationed there recognized her immediately. Without a word, she opened a small iron box and handed her a heavy ring that seemed to vibrate with an almost tangible energy.
The ring had a simple design — thick, with no luxurious embellishments — but an inscription in ancient runes coiled around it. The central stone, black as coal, seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it.
" This ring is imbued with ancient magic." — Marina explained, raising it so everyone could see. — "Unfortunately, we only have a few copies. And they are absurdly expensive."
She paused, letting the weight of that information settle.
" When — and if — you manage to go beyond the first level, I suggest you rent one of these." — Her gaze became a blade. — "It's the only way to maximize profit without compromising your safety. After all, no one wants to be wandering the lower levels with a carcass on their back."
" Believe me: that would be the dumbest thing you could do down there."
" Very well… I think it'll be easier to show you what this ring does. Follow me."
As all the novices followed Marina, silence fell over the group like a veil.
Nikolai watched the ring, fascinated. It didn't seem like just a simple tool...
It was clear the magic involved in that object was complex — and powerful.
Marina finally reached a second counter. There, the body of a strange creature lay stretched out on a cold stone slab.
It was a bipedal being, with long, curved limbs, its claws gleaming like polished blades. Small, atrophied wings folded over its back, clearly useless for flight, but loaded with an unsettling symbolism.
Nikolai narrowed his eyes. He recognized it immediately.
A Simargl.
Marina raised her voice, clear and sharp:
" This is one of the creatures you'll be hunting. It's extremely nutritious and, individually, doesn't pose a great threat."
She paused, scanning the novices' faces.
" But don't be fooled. Simargls, as we call them, always move in packs — and even small ones can mean the death of a careless group."
Some students swallowed hard; others whispered nervously. Dmitry, the veteran, had already handed out books with illustrations and descriptions, which many now opened to compare.
Nikolai did the same.
The sketch wasn't perfect, but it was enough. The rough lines showed claws, small wings, and the creature's hunched posture. He smiled faintly, relieved.
" If the drawing is this accurate, the other creatures should be easy to identify too."
As he compared the details — the curvature of the claws, the texture of the skin — something surprising happened.
The body on the slab vanished.
In the blink of an eye, it simply was no longer there.
A collective murmur swept through the hall. Some students stepped back, others widened their eyes in shock.
Marina raised the ring she held, the black stone pulsing faintly.
" This ring holds a spatial magic — complex and of priceless value."
She turned the band on her finger, showing the stone that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it.
" The storage capacity isn't large, but it's enough to hold the body of some creatures. This will prevent you from being attacked by predators that follow the scent of blood and carcasses. It will also spare you the need to constantly return to the surface to unload your catch."
A respectful silence took over the room.
For most novices, it was just a useful and fascinating item. For Nikolai, it wasn't.
He knew exactly what that ring was.
He knew how few could possess one.
And more than that, he knew the bitter truth behind those who desired them.
Those rings weren't sold.
Only rented.
There was an entire economy built around them, fueled by nobles who invested fortunes in their production and control — only to later profit from extortionate leasing.
Each ring represented not just survival, but dependence.
After all, not having one was simply not an option.
The prices were always exorbitant — it was the perfect storm of high demand and limited supply.
As he watched the ring's dark glow and all it represented, Nikolai understood:
in that tower, even the simplest conveniences would have to be earned — either through great wealth or extreme effort.
🔹 The Second Floor
The circular staircase led them to a smaller, yet still spacious area. The hall opened like a stone plain, surrounded by iron railings. Few people were present, all seated on sturdy chairs, either engaged in heated discussions or eating voraciously.
In the center, a large black board dominated the room. On it, dozens of names were written in rows, accompanied by marks and symbols.
" This is where you eat and where many teams interact. The butcher and the kitchen are on this floor, so any game you want turned into food — or anything else, for sale or consumption — should be brought here."
" This is also the floor where you track your performance." — Marina announced. — "There's a ranking system that tracks skill, deliveries, and consistency."
" If you're good and focused, you'll be rewarded at the end of every month. Always."
As Marina showed the place, an elderly woman calmly ascended the side staircase next to the massive board. She erased the name in third place and reordered the remaining ones, stirring murmurs among the men and women seated nearby.
The dry sound of chalk was like a sentence.
None of the novices said a word. All of them, even the newcomers, knew what it meant when a name was erased.
The erased name belonged to someone who was dead.
Marina reinforced it, without softening her words:
" Here, even the strongest can be in the wrong place, facing the wrong creature, and be wiped out. Never let your guard down."
🔹 The Third Floor
The climb continued. The steps grew narrower, the air heavier, and the tower tapered upward, yet the space was still large enough to house hundreds of people.
The third floor had a different atmosphere: hallways lined with counters, gleaming weapon stands, and cases filled with potions. The scent of polished metal and medicinal herbs clung to the air.
" On the third and fourth floors, you can buy weapons, armor, traps, and potions." — Marina explained. — "Nothing here replaces a good strategy, but a sharp blade and decent armor can be the difference between a dead genius and a lucky fool."
" This is also where you'll take your aptitude test."
She walked to a counter, where another white-haired woman was already waiting.
This time, what lay at her feet wasn't a black bear, but a blue one — small, yet healthy-looking, with chubby cheeks and a plump body.
After a brief exchange of words, the old woman retrieved from a padded box a translucent glass sphere, which appeared to contain a constantly swirling inner mist, and handed it to Marina.
Marina raised it, showing it to everyone.
" This sphere will reveal your creature's potential."
" Today, it won't mean much. Tomorrow, maybe still little."
" But in the future… this will determine everything you aim to become."
" Whether to give up or carry on, you'll find out today."
She looked up toward the ceiling, and only then did many notice.
The ceiling was painted with a rainbow split down the middle, where the warmer colors were to the left and the cooler ones to the right.
" For those who receive the colors on the left when placing your hand on the sphere, I suggest you stick to the basics and return to the Fort after the five days." — Marina said bluntly. — "As for those who receive the colors on the right..." — she pointed with her finger. — "From left to right: it goes from good to excellent."
" What you do with the result, I don't care."
" But at the very least, consider yourselves lucky — and worthy of trying your fate down below."
Everyone's eyes turned to the ceiling.
The rainbow on the left displayed warm and exotic tones: red, yellow, and orange.
The rainbow on the right was the opposite — cool and unremarkable hues: moss green, followed by indigo, and finally violet.
Marina lowered the sphere, as if closing a ritual, and concluded:
" Your rooms will be assigned after the inspection. I'll return here in five days."
And without allowing for questions, she turned and descended toward the lower floors.
Nikolai, however, didn't mind the lack of explanations. He knew how to read between the lines.
What was written in the manuals ran deeper than any evasive answer Marina could give.
Finally, when Marina disappeared down the stairs, the white-haired woman who remained shouted to everyone who, like Nikolai, was still distracted by the ceiling colors:
" Very well, everyone. Let's begin."