Traebus worked quickly, slicing the vibrant purple potatoes into even pieces and setting them carefully in the stone cooking basin. As they boiled gently, he scooped out the flesh of the magical melons, mixing them into a creamy mash. His guests watched him with a mixture of fascination and cautious suspicion, clearly uncertain about the strange new food.

  "You know," Traebus remarked lightly as he vigorously mashed the potatoes, "back in my homeland, mashed vegetables were a perfectly normal thing. Here, it seems groundbreaking. Glad I could expand your culinary horizons beyond 'grilled meat' and 'raw vegetable salad.'"

  Vaelya chuckled softly, translating his words quickly for the others. Several elves exchanged amused smiles, clearly relaxing somewhat at Traebus's cheerful banter.

  Once the meal was ready, he carefully distributed small portions of melon mash alongside generous servings of the purple potato mash, deliberately limiting the magical melon portions to prevent a repeat of the previous night's spontaneous group nap.

  "Small servings on the melons," he explained dryly, "to avoid everyone passing out and leaving me to clean up yet another mess. We wouldn't want any more accidental nap-time induced evolutions, either."

  Vaelya laughed again, translating for the others as they cautiously tasted the food. Their eyes widened in surprise and delight, and murmurs of appreciation quickly spread through the table. Even Kaelen'varis, cautious and stoic at first, gave a grudging nod of approval after his first bite.

  As the meal progressed, the elves began chatting animatedly, voices rising and falling in rapid, lyrical conversation. Traebus tried to follow along, listening intently, but quickly realized that without a translation ring, their discussions were little more than enthusiastic gibberish to his ears.

  Eventually, his frustration grew unbearable. With a deep, melodramatic sigh, he stood up abruptly. "You know, I love listening to you all talk passionately about—well, whatever it is you're talking about—but it turns out I don’t speak 'excited elf.' I'm off to solve my little communication problem."

  Vaelya shot him an understanding glance, smiling apologetically. "I’m sorry, Traebus. Perhaps you—"

  "Relax," Traebus interrupted lightly, waving away her concern. "I’ll just go make myself a translation ring. Apparently, running a magical island paradise full of lizards requires constant language upgrades."

  As he stepped outside, he shot a wry glance toward Dusk, who was still lounging comfortably against the wall. "You stay here and watch over our guests. And no flexing your wings dramatically again—it's rude."

  Dusk gave him an amused chuff, clearly unconcerned, as Traebus strode purposefully toward his lab, muttering sarcastically to himself, "Sure, Traebus. Build magical gates, craft enchanted furniture, transform entire islands—yet somehow, you always forget to make the essential jewelry to actually understand what everyone's talking about."

  Traebus stepped into the lab, carefully pulling the heavy stone door shut behind him. The familiar hum of mana-charged crystals and the comforting scent of carved stone and carefully shaped metal filled the room. He moved quickly to the workbench, deep in thought, considering carefully which material he should use for this particular ring.

  He lifted his hand, examining the two empty fingers that remained. He knew this decision was significant—rings crafted from iron or copper were practical, durable, and safe, yet limited in capability. But this particular ring had to be powerful, precise, flexible, and incredibly durable to handle the nuances of communication magic.

  He hesitated, his eyes drifting slowly toward the sealed stone container at the far end of the lab. Within it rested the legendary Nekrium—the extraordinary, highly volatile material that had already granted him one powerful ring, but had come at the price of permanent fusion to his finger.

  Traebus weighed the risks carefully. The identification ring had nearly overwhelmed him; its power was staggering, dangerously uncontrollable. But the translation ring was vital—understanding everyone and everything around him could easily become a matter of life and death. "Well," he muttered dryly, "I’ve already fused one finger to ancient cosmic knowledge. What’s one more?"

  He moved decisively toward the sealed container, pressing his palm firmly against the locking rune. It flared briefly, then dissolved, allowing the stone cover to shift aside. Inside, the smooth, darkly gleaming slab of Nekrium lay waiting, resonating softly with immense magical potential.

  Taking a deep breath, he summoned a trickle of purified mana from his battery ring, shaping it into a delicate yet powerful blade of pure magical energy. With the utmost precision, he sliced off a tiny, paper-thin sliver of Nekrium. It hummed softly in response, vibrating gently between his fingertips, as if aware of its purpose.

  Returning to his crafting station, Traebus set the sliver carefully on a stone platform and surrounded it with concentric rings of carefully purified copper wire, quartz crystals, and a series of delicate runes etched directly into the stone table. With slow, deliberate movements, he extended his mana outward, beginning the meticulous crafting process.

  First, he gently shaped the Nekrium sliver, encouraging it to take the form of a smooth band. The metal responded instantly, its magical essence eager yet dangerously unstable, as if testing the limits of his skill. He felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead as he carefully molded and guided its shape, each slight adjustment taking tremendous concentration.

  With the initial band formed, he began weaving mana into it, threading tiny, intricate runes of communication and translation directly into its essence. The runes glowed softly, one by one embedding themselves permanently into the metal. He poured more energy into each symbol, refining their shapes and meanings with exquisite precision. Each rune would act as a conduit, translating not just language but subtle intention, tone, and context.

  Next, Traebus surrounded the ring with the concentric copper wires, gently channeling additional purified mana into them, forming a delicate weave of energy that danced and sparked gently around the ring. He carefully connected this magical weave to the ring, using it to stabilize the powerful resonance of the Nekrium, tempering its dangerous volatility with precise, disciplined mana.

  Finally, he arranged the quartz crystals around the ring, setting each at precise intervals. He funneled energy through them, the crystals gently humming and vibrating as they amplified and stabilized the magical patterns embedded within the ring. Each crystal acted as an anchor point, binding the powerful enchantments into a cohesive, balanced whole.

  With a final surge of mana, Traebus bound all the elements together, sealing the enchantment permanently. He felt the powerful backlash of the ring’s magic resonate deeply in his bones, nearly overwhelming him, yet he held firm. The finished ring floated gently above the stone platform, shimmering softly in midair, radiating an immense yet carefully balanced magical presence.

  He reached out slowly, taking the completed Nekrium translation ring between his fingers. The metal felt strangely alive, resonant, as if eager for purpose. He paused only a moment, steeling himself, before gently slipping it onto one of his two remaining empty fingers.

  Instantly, a surge of mana shot up his arm, nearly buckling his knees as the ring fused itself directly onto his finger, just as the identification ring had done. He grit his teeth against the pain, breathing heavily as the powerful magical connection took hold.

  After a long moment, the initial rush subsided. He lifted his hand, inspecting the sleek Nekrium ring now permanently bonded to him, softly glowing with subtle, intricate runes of translation and understanding.

  "Well," Traebus muttered weakly, smiling despite his exhaustion. "At least I won’t miss any more punchlines."

  Traebus flexed his fingers experimentally, marveling at the now-familiar sensation of the Nekrium ring fused permanently to his hand. He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he whispered to himself, "At this rate, I’m going to run out of fingers before I run out of magical problems to solve."

  He glanced up suddenly, noticing Vaelya standing quietly in the open doorway of the lab. Beside her were the two elves she'd called by name on the bridge: the large, imposing figure of Kaelen'varis, and the smaller, clearly nervous elf, Laeroth. Vaelya watched Traebus with an amused smirk, her eyes gleaming with both curiosity and affection. Kaelen'varis stared at Traebus with wary, cautious respect, while Laeroth stood half-hidden behind the taller elf, eyes wide with outright fear.

  Traebus cleared his throat awkwardly, straightening up and offering a tentative smile. "Oh, hey there. Didn’t realize we had an audience." He paused, glancing at Laeroth with mock concern. "Please tell your small friend I’m not planning to explode—at least, not intentionally."

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  Vaelya chuckled softly, stepping forward and gesturing toward the ring now glowing faintly on his finger. "That was quite the magical display, Traebus. Our guests seem rather impressed—and slightly terrified."

  Kaelen'varis finally stepped forward, eyeing the ring warily, before fixing Traebus with a penetrating stare. When he spoke, his voice was calm yet firm, carrying unmistakable authority. Thanks to the translation ring, Traebus could now perfectly understand his words.

  "What manner of magic is this?" Kaelen'varis asked bluntly, his tone wary but intensely curious. "You shape metal and mana as though they were mere clay and thread. Explain this to me—how do you accomplish these impossible feats?"

  Traebus hesitated, studying the elf carefully. After a moment, he sighed and leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "It’s… complicated," he began carefully, choosing his words with deliberate caution. "The magic and methods I use aren’t exactly common knowledge. Where I come from, they are powerful, but also dangerous—both to the one who uses them and those who might misuse them."

  Kaelen'varis narrowed his eyes slightly, a glint of challenge evident in his stare. "You doubt our intentions? We are no enemies to you, mage. Yet you speak as though afraid we would abuse your secrets."

  Traebus held up a hand placatingly. "It's not that simple. My knowledge—these techniques—could change your entire way of life. If I share it carelessly, I risk creating rivals, or worse, creating a situation where your people hurt themselves trying to replicate something they don’t fully understand. Believe me, explosive accidents and magical catastrophes aren't as fun as I sometimes make them sound."

  Kaelen'varis studied him closely for a long moment, visibly weighing the sincerity of Traebus's words. Beside him, Vaelya shifted slightly, clearly understanding Traebus's cautious approach. She reached out gently to touch the elf leader’s arm, speaking quietly in a reassuring tone. "Kaelen'varis, Traebus means well. His caution is for your safety as much as ours. Trust him."

  Kaelen'varis hesitated, considering carefully before finally nodding slowly. "Very well. I respect your caution, mage. Yet I hope you come to trust us enough to share at least some of your knowledge—when you judge it safe."

  Traebus gave a relieved smile, nodding appreciatively. "Thank you for understanding. And yes—perhaps in time. For now, let's just say I'm an expert in reckless experimentation, and I'm probably lucky to still have all my limbs intact."

  Laeroth, still partly hidden behind Kaelen'varis, gave a weak chuckle of relief at the reassurance. Vaelya rolled her eyes fondly, smiling softly at Traebus. "That certainly sounds like you."

  Traebus straightened up, gesturing toward the lab's exit. "Alright, then. Now that we've established that I'm cautious, mildly paranoid, and excessively fond of my limbs, maybe we should head back before the others start wondering if I’ve blown something up again."

  Kaelen'varis gave a faint, amused smirk as he turned to follow Vaelya. "Indeed, mage. Lead the way."

  Traebus quickly sealed the heavy stone door of his lab behind him, but as the others started moving back toward the house, he paused. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment, then pressed his palm discreetly against the cold stone, inscribing a quick yet subtle alarm rune that shimmered briefly before fading invisibly into the door. "Trust, but verify," he muttered quietly to himself, giving the lab door one last cautious glance before hurrying to catch up to the group.

  When they reached the house, everyone settled back around the newly expanded table. Kaelen'varis took a seat directly across from Traebus, his powerful presence dominating the room, his sharp eyes studying Traebus with deep contemplation.

  "Now," Kaelen'varis began, leaning forward slightly as he folded his hands thoughtfully. "We must speak plainly, mage. You clearly possess power and knowledge far beyond anything my people have seen. You have saved Vaelya’s life, and I am grateful—but I must understand your true intentions."

  Traebus met the elf’s penetrating gaze steadily, carefully considering his words. "My intentions are simple enough—I just want to live and thrive here in peace. This island, this home, is not part of your territory as far as I can tell. I don’t seek to challenge or intrude upon your land, nor do I intend to threaten your people."

  Kaelen'varis gave a slow, measured nod, clearly weighing each word carefully. "True enough. This island sits outside our claimed hunting grounds. But the appearance of a mage with such immense power so close to our borders cannot simply be ignored."

  Traebus smiled wryly, spreading his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Understandable. But I assure you, my goal isn’t conquest or conflict. If anything, I'd prefer cooperation—or at the very least, peaceful coexistence."

  Kaelen'varis raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Cooperation, you say? What exactly do you have in mind?"

  Traebus leaned back comfortably, letting his tone become practical and earnest. "Well, trade would seem logical. You have things I need—knowledge of the local flora and fauna, hides, certain materials perhaps difficult for me to obtain easily. In return, I can offer various practical creations that might greatly benefit your people."

  Kaelen'varis tilted his head curiously. "Creations such as?"

  Traebus grinned confidently, warming to the subject. "Well, consider this. I can craft simple, durable fire-starters—devices enchanted to quickly ignite wood or tinder without the slow and difficult methods you likely use now."

  Kaelen'varis’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully, clearly intrigued by the practical idea. "That… would certainly be useful."

  Traebus nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! And how about clothing? I could make enchanted garments—tunics and cloaks that slowly mend themselves over time, reducing the need for constant repairs."

  At this, Vaelya perked up, smiling eagerly. "You could do that?"

  Traebus chuckled softly. "Absolutely. Simple enough enchantment—one that wouldn't pose risks of misuse. Your hunters, scouts, warriors—they’d all greatly benefit from clothing that can mend small tears and abrasions automatically, making them last far longer."

  Kaelen'varis exchanged an impressed glance with Vaelya, clearly considering these possibilities carefully. Still, he fixed Traebus with another searching look, voice cautious but respectful. "And yet, despite this generosity, you refuse to share your magical secrets. Why?"

  Traebus sighed softly, leaning forward again to meet the elf leader's gaze squarely. "Magic like mine can reshape your society, and potentially bring unintended harm. If I share my techniques, your people might attempt things they're not yet ready to handle. This knowledge isn’t a casual commodity—it carries consequences. I’ve seen it happen. Sharing enchanted items and carefully chosen conveniences, however, is different—useful yet harmless."

  Kaelen'varis studied him silently for several long moments, clearly weighing the reasoning carefully. Finally, he gave a slow, respectful nod. "I understand your caution. I cannot fault you for seeking to protect us—and yourself—from unintended harm."

  Traebus smiled with genuine relief. "Thank you for understanding."

  The elf leader allowed a rare, brief smile to flicker across his stern features. "Then let us proceed cautiously and wisely. We can begin this partnership with simple trade, as you suggest. If all goes well, perhaps over time we may build further trust."

  Traebus nodded warmly. "Agreed. For now, we start small—fire starters, self-mending clothing, maybe even tools enchanted for strength and durability. You bring me materials and knowledge, and I'll provide practical enchantments. A partnership that benefits everyone."

  Kaelen'varis extended a strong hand, his voice firm and respectful. "Then let us formalize it: an agreement forged between your magic and my people."

  Traebus shook his hand firmly, smiling wryly. "An accord—just promise not to invade my island fortress, and I promise not to accidentally explode anything too important."

  Vaelya laughed softly, shaking her head fondly as Kaelen'varis finally allowed himself a full, genuine smile. "Then we have an understanding, mage."

  Traebus settled back into his chair comfortably, relieved and hopeful. "Indeed we do. Let’s make sure this stays peaceful—because trust me, things are already complicated enough around here without any more trouble."

  Traebus clapped his hands together gently, standing up from the table and giving the assembled group of elves a friendly smile. "Alright, folks. I think we've had enough excitement for today. Time for everyone to get some proper rest."

  He led the way toward the stairs, gesturing dramatically for the elves to follow. "Allow me to introduce you to the pinnacle of civilization—private rooms with stone-crafted furniture and magical lighting. You can thank me in the morning after you've slept somewhere more comfortable than a jungle floor."

  Kaelen'varis exchanged an amused glance with Vaelya as they followed Traebus downstairs, clearly intrigued. Traebus paused in the hallway of the underground level, opening the doors to the spare rooms one by one, each furnished simply but comfortably.

  "Choose your rooms freely—make yourselves comfortable," Traebus explained cheerfully. Then he stepped toward the wall, flipping a small switch embedded neatly into the stone. Immediately, soft, steady white light filled the rooms, eliciting startled gasps of surprise and appreciation from the elves.

  Vaelya smiled warmly, nodding with gentle pride. "God-lights, remember? He crafted them himself."

  Kaelen'varis inclined his head respectfully, looking openly impressed. "You continue to astonish us, mage."

  Traebus shrugged modestly. "It's a gift—and, admittedly, a mild obsession."

  With amused farewells, everyone eventually retired to their rooms. Traebus ascended back to his own quarters, settling comfortably into his makeshift bed, exhaustion pulling him swiftly into a deep sleep.

  Suddenly, in the dead of night, an ear-splitting blast of sound reverberated sharply across the island, jolting Traebus violently awake. He bolted upright, heart pounding, adrenaline flooding his veins.

  "Oh, fantastic," he muttered sarcastically, scrambling out of bed. "Can't we have one single night without something blowing up or trying to eat me?"

  Vaelya stumbled from her room, bleary-eyed and alarmed. "What was that?"

  "That," Traebus said sharply, already sprinting toward the door, "is the sound of someone setting off my security rune."

  Kaelen'varis and the other elves quickly joined them in the hallway, weapons hastily grabbed, eyes alert and wary. The alarm continued echoing, a loud, insistent pulse vibrating through the entire island.

  Traebus sprinted outside toward the lab, followed closely by Vaelya and the elves. Dusk, Tank, Sparky, and the elemental lizards were already on alert, standing protectively around the entrance, growling and tense.

  As Traebus approached, his gaze locked on the sealed door of the lab—now visibly cracked open, the rune flaring wildly with bright, angry red energy. His stomach sank heavily, frustration and alarm tightening his chest.

  He stopped sharply, calling back to the others. "Someone broke into the lab—stay alert! I have no idea who or what we're dealing with."

  Dusk growled deeply, the sound resonating through his newly powerful form as he moved protectively beside Traebus.

  With a deep breath, Traebus stepped forward cautiously, bracing himself as he prepared to confront whoever had dared disturb his carefully balanced sanctuary.