Silas strode through the bustling alien streets, his mind still reeling from his encounter with Del. The universal translator skill hummed in the back of his consciousness, transforming the cacophony of alien languages into something comprehensible.
He glanced at the storefronts, their names now clear to him. "The Pit," he muttered, eyeing a seedy-looking establishment. A group of tentacled creatures slithered out, their laughter grating on his ears.
"Fresh mana potions! Get your fresh mana potions here!" a vendor called out in what Silas now understood as perfect Common. He made a mental note to visit the potions shop later.
The clang of metal on metal drew his attention to a nearby blacksmith shop. Through the open doorway, Silas glimpsed a four-armed creature wielding a massive hammer, sparks flying as it shaped a glowing piece of metal.
