If the Port District smells of salt and fish, the district Mira and Kars are now entering smells of chemicals. The alleys here are narrower, flanked by tall stone buildings that block out the moonlight. In the gutters, colorful liquids left over from fabric dyeing flow slowly.

  This is the Artisans' District, the heart of the city's industry, a place where anything can be created, and magic is used not only for fighting, but also for cutting metal or preserving leather.

  They stop in front of a small shop, sadly squeezed between a weapons workshop and a secondhand bookstore.

  There was no grand signboard. Only a crude drawing of an eye, sketched in blue chalk on its weathered wooden door.

  “Is your friend an alchemist?” Mira whispered. “Or a wizard?”

  “You'll find out soon enough,” said Kars as he pushed open the door.

  The sound of a clanging brass bell greeted them.

  The smell in the room immediately assaulted Mira's nose. The sharp smell of ammonia mixed with the smell of rusty copper and decaying old paper. The room was narrow, crammed with shelves that reached up to the ceiling, filled with thousands of scrolls, jars containing preserved organs of creatures in yellow liquid, and piles of books covered in finger-thick dust.

  “Shut up! I'm busy!” The hoarse voice came from behind a fortress of books at the cash register. It belonged to a short, old man. He was clearly a dwarf, judging by his broad shoulders and neatly braided gray beard, which was held in place with an iron ring. He was examining a piece of scaly skin using a magnifying glass.

  “Even for an old friend bringing a Pure Silver-Grade Sky Stone?” Kars asked casually.

  The old man froze. He slowly looked up. His left eye was normal, dark brown. But his right eye was completely covered with three long vertical claw marks.

  “Kars,” the man snorted, carefully putting down his lens. His voice sounded like a bunch of pebbles being shaken in a jar. “I thought you had been eaten by a bear or executed by the Inquisition or even executed by the Order of the Golden Angels.”

  “Almost all of them.” Kars stepped forward, placing a small piece of silver metal on the ink-stained table. The metal glowed dimly, emitting an unnatural light in the dim room.

  The old man—Master Dorro—snatched the metal faster than a snake. He examined it with his left eye, murmuring in admiration.

  “Pure... this is from Caelum Dominatium.” Dorro grinned, revealing teeth yellowed from tobacco. “What do you want? A false identity? A treasure map?”

  Kars pulled Mira forward. She needs the Astral-Maurea Glyph, the complete package. The common language of all continents, the language of maritime trade, the languages of remote tribes, and ancient languages. She speaks like someone who just came out of a prehistoric cave."

  Mira didn't understand their conversation, but she felt Kars was mocking her.

  Dorro got up from his seat. He wasn't that short after all; he looked more like a mix between a human and a dwarf. He walked around Mira. He patted her shoulder, pinched her arm, and pressed her jaw.

  “Her bone structure is good, solid,” Dorro muttered. Then his focus shifted to Mira's eyes. “What's wrong with her eyes?”

  No one answered. Dorro nodded, understanding that neither of them wanted to explain. Then he moved to her neck, just above her pulse. "Hmm... Her pulse is strange. Hot, unstable. Like fire placed in a thin glass container."

  He looked at Kars. “Tattooing Runes on this women's skin will be risky. Her body might reject the ink, she could have a fever for a week, she could become permanently deaf or blind.”

  “She'll survive,” Kars replied flatly. “She's stronger than she looks.”

  Dorro shrugged. “Sit in that chair.” He pointed to an old leather chair in the corner of the room. The chair looked like a torture device. There were thick straps on the arms, legs, and even the neck. Suspicious dark stains adorned the headrest.

  Mira spat. “Are those straps necessary?”

  “The ink I use is made from the blood of the Mimic Heraldia Octopus and crushed Esthelium crystals.” Dorro began mixing a thick purple liquid in a stone bowl. "When the needle touches your skin, it won't feel like a prick. The ink will try to rewrite your brain synapses. It will feel like your brain is being split in two and then doused with vinegar and salt."

  Dorro grinned sadistically. “You will struggle. I don't want you to move and ruin my art. This ink is expensive. So don't compare me to other Rune Masters who may be gentler and use lighter materials.”

  Mira looked at Kars for help. Kars just leaned against the bookshelf, folding his arms. “Consider it mental endurance training, Princess. You've already faced scorpion monsters and man-eating trees. A small needle won't kill you.”

  Reluctantly, Mira sat down. She let Dorro tie her wrists and ankles. The leather straps felt cold and smelled of the sweat of those who had worn them before her.

  “Where?” Mira asked as Dorro approached with a long silver needle whose tip glowed purple. “On the tongue?”

  “Too messy.” Dorro shook his head. “Behind the right ear, near the auditory nerve and the brain’s language center,” Dorro continued, roughly tilting Mira’s head to the side.

  He pressed the cold tip of the needle against the thin skin behind Mira’s ear.

  Mira didn’t scream; she growled.

  It didn't feel like pain. Pain was too simple a word. It felt like a hot nail being hammered through her skull.

  But it wasn't just physical. Inside her head, a ringing sound exploded. Thousands of voices screaming at once. Foreign information is forced into her brain's neurons, all words Mira doesn't recognize, complex language structures, intonations, accents, sailor slang.

  Everything is crammed in within seconds.

  Mira's eyes are wide open, the veins in her neck bulging blue. She convulsed, trying to pull her hand away, but the leather strap held Mira tightly. The wooden chair creaked loudly under the pressure of her muscles.

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  The world turned white. There was only pain and the noise of millions of conversations in her head.

  “Arghhhh...” A groan escaped from between Mira's tightly clenched teeth. Tears reflexively streamed from the corners of her eyes.

  Kars watched calmly, but his right hand secretly gripped the edge of the wooden shelf. He could feel the Intian in Mira's body raging wildly as a defensive response. Even V'nyr and Er'ryn seemed uneasy inside. Kars felt three types of Intian at once in Mira, ready to explode at any moment.

  Five minutes that felt like five centuries passed.

  Dorro pulled out the needle with one swift motion. “Done.”

  Mira slumped weakly in her chair, breathing heavily. Cold sweat drenched her clothes. Her right ear felt hot, as if a burning ember had been pressed against it.

  Dorro unbuckled his belt.

  “Drink this,” he said, handing her a small glass filled with a mint-scented green liquid.

  Mira drank it with trembling hands. It was cold, easing the throbbing in her head a little.

  “Try to speak,” said Kars in the northern dialect.

  Mira tried to say, “It hurts so much, damn it,” in her native language. But her brain did something strange before the words reached her tongue; a new “bridge” formed.

  “It feels like a horse just trampled my head,” Mira said with a surprised expression. She spoke it fluently in the northern dialect and clearly understood what Kars was saying.

  Mira didn't translate it in her head; she just said it. Her accent was soft, neutral, without the harsh, abrupt southern accent.

  Dorro threw a small mirror. Mira caught it. Behind her right ear, there was now a small purple spiral-shaped rune that slowly faded, blending in with her skin color until it was almost invisible.

  Mira gently rubbed the rune. It still felt warm, but the information in her head was now beginning to organize itself. The noisy voices disappeared, replaced by a more precise understanding.

  “Thank you... Master Dorro,” said Mira. It felt strange. Her mouth formed the words automatically.

  ***

  When they left the shop, night had fallen completely on Port Jang.

  But the city was not dark.

  While they had been inside Dorro's gloomy shop, the city outside had changed. All the lanterns that illuminated the city had changed color. They were no longer yellow, but had turned red.

  The streets, which had been noisy with merchant carts, were now filled with music. The sounds of flutes, hand drums, and lute strums filled the air. The fishy smell of raw fish was gone, replaced by the sweet smell of roasted corn, spicy grilled squid, and gingerbread.

  “The Autumn Fish Festival,” said Kars, looking at Mira, who was staring blankly at the sea of lights. “A coastal tradition. They celebrate the last catch before the winter storms close the shipping lanes.”

  Mira took a deep breath. For the first time, the city's noise did not make her dizzy. Thanks to the translator rune, the sounds around her were no longer a meaningless cacophony.

  Mira could hear snippets of conversation clearly. “...the price of pearl shells has dropped again this year...” “...did you see that guy on the corner? He's staring at me!” “...watch out, hot oil!”

  The world suddenly made sense. Mira was like a deaf person who could suddenly hear music.

  They walked through the city square. Mira walked more leisurely now, her eyes sparkling in the light of the lanterns.

  Kars bought Mira a skewer of grilled meat from a street vendor. Mira chewed it while watching the fire-eater's performance.

  “Don't get carried away,” Kars reminded her, even though he himself was chewing on a caramel apple. “We still have to find lodging and a ship to return to Balvinne.”

  “Just a little longer,” Mira replied.

  Mira stopped in front of a game booth surrounded by a crowd of people.

  “Come on! Come on! Three copper coins for three knives! Stick them in the red fin, and you'll win the grand prize!” shouted a muscular man wearing a leather vest.

  At the back of the stall, there was a large wooden wheel that was being spun. The wheel was decorated with various types of fish. In the center was a small red carp, which was the main target. The wheel was spinning quite fast.

  A young, drunk sailor had just thrown his last knife. MISS. It landed far off target, stuck in the wooden barrier. People laughed.

  “Cheating! The wheel is too fast!” shouted the sailor.

  Mira stared at the wheel. To the average person, the red fish was just a blur of color. But to Mira?

  She focused her eyes. She wasn't actively using magic; that would attract the guards' attention. But she used a little of her Intian to sharpen her visual perception, a basic technique she had learned for shooting rabbits in the dark forest.

  The world slowed slightly, the wheel's rotation becoming clear. She could see the wood grain on the target. She could count the heartbeat of the game dealer.

  “Want to try, kid?” asked the dealer, looking at Mira, who stood still. “One Kluppe. The prize is a limited edition King Crab doll for your boyfriend."

  Mira looked at Kars. That man sighed softly as he took out a Kluppe coin and placed it on the table.

  Mira smiled widely, taking the three dull knives provided. They were unbalanced, their handles slippery from the sweat of previous players. Trash weapons.

  Mira weighed the first knife in her hand. She adjusted her grip, shifting her index finger slightly upward to compensate for the knife's forward weight.

  She took a breath, not throwing with force. She threw with rhythm.

  One. Mira threw the first knife. It got stuck on the edge of the wheel, hitting the image of a blue fish tail. “Not bad!” exclaimed the dealer. “Two more!”

  Mira smiled slightly. It was just a calibration shot. She was measuring the speed of the wheel's rotation and the resistance of the night wind.

  Now she knew.

  Two. Mira threw the second knife. It stuck right in the center circle, but slightly missed the red fish. The audience began to cheer. “Almost!”

  Three. Mira didn't wait for the cheers to die down. She was already moving. In her mind, she saw a transparent trajectory line in the air. She saw the position of the red fish one second in the future. Her movements were fluid. Her shoulders relaxed, her wrist snapped smoothly.

  Then, the knife stuck with a satisfying sound. Deep, solid, and undeniable. Right in the eye of the spinning red fish.

  The wheel kept spinning, carrying Mira's knife with it as proof of absolute victory.

  There was a moment of silence in the crowd. Then cheers erupted.

  “Wooo! Look at that!” “Right in the eye!”

  The dealer stared blankly for a moment, then laughed loudly, slapping the table. "We have a sharpshooter here! Looks like beginner's luck, eh?"

  He picked up a large crab doll sewn with ugly red velvet fabric and handed it to Mira.

  “This is your prize, kid. Don't use it to scare little kids.”

  Mira accepted the doll. The stitching was rough, the eyes made from asymmetrical buttons. The thing was ugly.

  Mira grinned widely. This was her first victory alone. Not against a monster, not against a killer, but a small, pure victory.

  She turned and threw the crab doll at Kars.

  Kars caught it with one hand, staring at the object with feigned disgust. "What is this? An offering?"

  “It's King Crab,” Mira said proudly, starting to walk away from the crowd. “He'll watch over us while we sleep.”

  Kars snorted, but he didn't throw the doll away. He tucked it under his arm. “You're showing off, Mira. Throwing a knife like that could make people suspicious.”

  “I was just throwing,” Mira protested, even though her heart felt light. “Besides, I need target practice that doesn't try to eat my face.”

  They walked home to their cheap lodgings on the edge of the port district. The sounds of the festival slowly faded behind them, but Mira's new ears still picked up a lot.

  As they passed a group of sailors sitting drunk on wooden barrels in front of a warehouse, Mira's steps slowed slightly.

  “...I'm telling you, don't go near Pier 4,” whispered one of the sailors in a heavy voice. “The Banshee Coil just lost three more last night.”

  “Ran away?” asked his friend.

  “Dead? Run away? Who knows,” replied the first sailor, taking a swig from his bottle. “Captain Draven is in a murderous mood. He needs a replacement crew before the tide comes in tomorrow, or he'll start kidnapping people off the streets.”

  Mira didn't stop walking, but she kept the information safely tucked away behind her ear.

  She turned to Kars. “Did you hear that?”

  Kars nodded.

  Mira touched the pocket of her robe. “Sounds dangerous.”

  Mira entered the narrow, musty room. She stared at the ugly crab doll Kars had placed on the table.

  Today she learned a new language. She ate delicious food. She won the game.

  Tomorrow, she would try to win a ride on the cursed ship.

  Mira closed her eyes, letting the faint humming behind her ears lull her to sleep. For the first time, the sounds of the world no longer frightened her. She was beginning to understand the language.

  And if you understand your enemy's language, you can defeat them.