After deciding to move forward, without fear, toward the depths of Vybor, the group prepared as best they could. After all, even if everything went according to plan, it was unlikely they would arrive before nightfall. It was a mission that demanded speed and decisiveness — there was no room for hesitation or sluggishness.
All the bears were equipped with armor; at the very least, that was what Kolya could offer the group: a chance to fight, in case something went wrong. Even so, the scene felt strange. If something did go wrong, a few pieces of armor wouldn't be enough to stop the enemy.
The sun had barely appeared on the horizon — the beginning of a new day. Outside the great tower, danger still lingered, but the great Eye had made a point of clearing the perimeter the night before. Nikolai still wondered how she had managed such a feat. No noise had been heard during the night, as if all the creatures of the abyss feared the silent gaze of the tower.
When they descended, they found a great commotion: dozens of groups were already waiting outside. Nikolai recognized few faces. Among them, Vladimir's group, lying on their backpacks, was taking a nap.
But something soon caught his attention — everyone there looked as strong as, or even stronger than, his group. Some rode bears the size of horses with ease, as if that were the proper way to do things.
Ekaterina had taught Nikolai that many of the strongest had trained in mounted combat on their beasts — a faster and more efficient method. The advance became quicker and more coordinated. Kuzma had already commented that this was his main limitation: unable to ride his bears due to their size, his progress was always slower. If it weren't for the Moranas' promise to offer a ride, that incursion would never have been possible for Kuzma's group.
"How is it possible I've never seen most of the people out here?"
asked Nikolai, surprised by the unfamiliar faces.
"Most of them, honestly, don't even stay here at the tower,"
replied Ekaterina, revealing something that surprised Nikolai even more.
"So, where do they stay?"
"It depends. I think most go back to Medved. After all, they can ride their creatures. Actually, they don't go on missions like we do… maybe how many, Kuzma?"
she looked to her companion, who was checking his bag.
"As far as I know, I think they do one mission a month, maybe less,"
he replied, not taking his eyes off what he was doing.
That was surprising, but at the same time, it made perfect sense. They advanced quickly into the lower levels, wiped out countless hordes, and returned. What Nikolai's group took a month to accomplish, they probably did in a single incursion.
However, something else caught Nikolai's attention — and bothered him.
"But… what are they waiting for? Is Kolya going to say something?"
The group answered in unison:
"They're waiting for Him."
"Him?"
The word echoed in Nikolai's mind. After all, who was he? Kolya was a woman, at least as far as he knew. Curiosity ended up overcoming his embarrassment, and he asked Ekaterina in a low voice, afraid of showing ignorance.
"Master… who is he?"
"Vladislav Bearmir, the Master of the Night."
The name was spoken with reverence by Ekaterina, and even the others present held respectful expressions upon hearing it. To Nikolai, that name was a mystery. With each passing day, he seemed to encounter more unknown faces and names. But he didn't have to insist: Kuzma promptly stepped in to explain.
"Maybe you don't know Vladislav, but know this — he's a top contender to become the next Muromets of the Northern people. To be honest, I've never seen a Muromets in action… but I've seen Vladislav kill a Leshiy with a single sword strike. That's enough for me,"
he shrugged.
"He's someone beyond reality."
Nikolai remembered Ivan. He was considered a Muromets, as were the members of the Sobolev family. Honestly, he didn't know how powerful they truly were — but he knew they were strong, and that was enough to understand the respect they commanded. What was most surprising was that even Vladimir's group waited calmly for Vladislav.
"But… how do you know he's that strong? I mean… we also killed a few Leshiy this month."
Still trying to gauge Vladislav's true power, Nikolai waited for an explanation. Ekaterina responded with a light, almost ironic laugh:
"Well, besides the fact that he's saved pretty much everyone here in this tower, he's also the only one who stays at the top of the ranking without ever having joined a group."
That shocked Nikolai. Of course, Ekaterina had already mentioned drifters who preferred to go out alone, but at the time, she had described them as lunatics — problematic individuals, more of a burden than a help to the major groups. And yet, now she claimed that the top-ranked person wasn't just stronger than everyone else, to the point where they all waited for him in reverent silence — he was also a one-man group.
Nikolai's curiosity was growing fast, almost uncontrollably. But there was still one question he needed to ask:
"But… where is he now?"
Ekaterina didn't reply with words. She simply pointed to a hole a few meters away, where an opening led into the interior of Vybor. Nikolai frowned, trying to understand what that meant. It was Daria who stepped forward to explain:
"Vladislav is known as the Master of the Night because, of all those who walk — or have walked — in Svarog, he's the only one who has the strange habit of spending the night inside Vybor."
Nikolai began to piece the puzzle together in his mind, connecting each shocking detail mentioned by Daria and Ekaterina. His expression grew more tense as understanding set in, yet something still didn't make sense.
That's when a metallic sound began to echo across the icy plains.
"He's coming."
Finally. Kuzma and the others remained silent — one of those heavy silences, full of memory and respect.
The metallic sound from the pit echoed in rhythmic waves, reverberating through the damp stone walls, as if the fortress itself was breathing in sync with it. Slow steps. Dragging. The scrape of iron on granite.
Nikolai, eyes half-closed, felt his stomach tighten. The air seemed heavier, almost tangible.
And then — from the shadows of the spiral staircase — he appeared.
The man was a living wall. His black armor, marked by scars and chips, looked like it was made of scorched steel; each plate groaned as if protesting the weight it bore. On his shoulders, hooks, chains, and rusted buckles. His helmet — with short horns and deep cracks — revealed only two dull eyes, devoid of any human light. The sound of his breathing was like the blow of a forge bellows: heavy, rhythmic, and constant. With each step, the ground trembled.
Behind him, a blue bear climbed with the slowness of an avalanche. Its fur looked like frozen mist, and its breath exhaled a frosty vapor that formed ice crystals on the steps. The creature radiated raw power — its muscles rippled beneath its shimmering coat, and its eyes, a deep and ancient blue, followed the warrior like a living shadow.
For a moment, no one moved. Kuzma and the others across the great plain bowed their heads slightly. The warrior lifted his gaze. Even under the weight of the armor, there was something terribly human in his presence — an ancient melancholy, as if every battle fought had left not wounds, but stories etched into the metal.
Nikolai couldn't tell whether he felt fear or awe. But he was certain of one thing: that man was unfathomable in every way. The terror he exuded seemed to choke the very air around him.
The warrior stopped on the final step. The sound of iron ceased — and the silence that followed felt like it tore through the air. For a moment, only the vapor from the blue bear moved, swirling around them like living mist.
With a muffled snap, the man brought his hand to the clasp of his helmet. The metal creaked, and then he lifted it slowly, releasing the face hidden beneath that prison of steel.
What emerged was not the face of a hero, but that of a survivor of a thousand hells. His skin, marked by deep scars, carried the map of forgotten battles — wounds that had healed poorly, old burns, and a thick line that ran across his jaw up toward his neck. His short, dark beard was speckled with gray, betraying more time spent in war than in peace.
But what truly held the gaze were the eyes. Both were still there — alive, intense — not blind, but burning like lit coals under the weight of all they had seen. His hair, disheveled and damp, fell across his forehead in thick strands, matted by sweat and the dust of the underground. The face was strong, angular, with hard features that revealed a youth long gone. His expression — even still — carried a calm ferocity, something between pain and resolve.
Nikolai felt a chill run down his spine. That man looked as though he had been carved by war itself. A face that didn't need to shout to command respect — it only needed to exist.
The blue bear snorted behind him, spreading vapor across the stone floor. And when the warrior looked to the side, just enough to observe the group in front of him, no one dared speak first.
"Welcome, Vladislav. Did you manage to do what I asked?"
Without anyone noticing, a woman had appeared among the groups, as if she had always been there — and only now had they noticed her presence. However, the most surprising thing was the warrior's reaction: the imposing man with the frozen expression placed his helmet on the snow and knelt before the lady.
"Miss Kolya Feodorovna, the mission you gave me is complete. The place is free of enemies. I made sure to go deeper in to buy time for your plan."
Kolya showed unrestrained joy. She approached the large man, forced him to stand, and hugged him tightly.
"Thank you so much, Dragomir. I was starting to worry. Would you like something to eat before you head out? Or perhaps a bath?"
The man, always serious, seemed for a moment slightly embarrassed by the last suggestion, but quickly replied:
"Don't worry. I won't delay myself or my companions. We'll depart immediately."
As soon as he said that, all those who had seemed to be waiting for his arrival began to move, hurrying to finish their preparations.
"Ah, dear Vladislav… now that you're in a group, the least you could do is lose that always-serious face."
Despite her words, it was Kolya who seemed to grow somber immediately afterward.
"I need you to protect them at all costs. Every life there is precious to me. Honestly, I would never have accepted this mission, if it weren't for those…"
Before she could finish her sentence, Vladislav brought his hand to her mouth in an unexpectedly gentle, almost romantic gesture. For a moment, it seemed there was something more between the two — but most didn't notice, busy packing backpacks and getting ready for departure.
The woman stopped mid-sentence and, with a slight blush on her face, turned toward the great blue bear behind Vladislav.
"I can already see talking to this blockhead is going to be difficult. Please, Burushka, protect him."
The great bear, Burushka, bowed his head slowly, as if solemnly accepting the mission he had been given.
Nikolai, who watched the interaction between the two with interest, was surprised by many things — including the size of the bear, which belonged to the same breed as Ekaterina's. But that did not go unnoticed by his mentor.
"His bear is a Deviant, just like yours. In fact, although it's a Blue, it doesn't have the typical limitations of that color. Honestly, I'd say it has more capability than a White."
The revelation surprised Nikolai, who continued observing with curiosity the bond between the great bear and its master. Ashen, who had been silently watching, also seemed to understand something that no one else there had perceived.
"We're heading out!"
shouted Vladislav.
"Miss Kolya, I'm leaving. I believe we'll reach the designated location by the end of the next day. After all, not everyone is a rider."
Before finishing his sentence, he turned to Kuzma and another group that remained still — the Moranas.
"I wish you luck and strength, my friends."
Both groups bowed their heads in a sign of respect. Nikolai was still fascinated. There was a brief final exchange between Kolya and Vladislav, but it ended quickly, and the man departed, mounted on his bear, taking the lead of the large group now advancing toward the unknown.