Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 23

Chapter 23

A strange situation was bothering me. Don't think I was looking for trouble, but the mystery I was discovering smell so good as dead. I was willing to assume that it was some kind of creature that had managed to come back and take revenge on poor Dajua by killing himself. The nightmare of Sigismund's dreams, for example, could have done that if it had tried hard enough if it had stayed alive after the fight with me and the boy. But it was still just a creature - not very intelligent, extremely dangerous, and extremely difficult to resist, but a creature. A monster that kills people and dies at the hands of people.

This time was a little different. Whoever was behind the death of the man I had saved was not alone. Those men who had entered the building quietly before the murder knew what they were doing. They prepared to the highest standard, they did everything quietly, and they even managed to make it look like a suicide. And I have this suspicion that not only did they pass it off, but they bought the guards who examined the body. I can't be entirely sure, but a couple of forensic articles claim that there must have been bruises and injuries after the "conversation" in which the painter was hammered into the wall. The city, of course, is criminal, and you can't examine all the bodies, so it's far from certain that these mysterious killers have a garter in the guard. It could be that the guards themselves were too lazy to investigate, just not to put suspicions in their protocols (or whatever they had?).

But I prefer to assume the worst, which means that this mysterious group, or even organization, has its people, including the guards. And they also have some strange magic and can hide from clairvoyance in a way I don't know yet. The latter frightens me more than anything else because in itself clairvoyance is a very cool skill, elite and rare, available to only a few. And I have it also developed, which allows me to receive information in almost a constant flow. And these guys can completely hide their actions from me, leaving almost no trace.

Oh, for fuck's sake! I only noticed something was wrong because the failing skill caused a surprise! And now I don't know what to do with this knowledge. On the one hand, it's not my business, and it's not going to do me any good. Well, I'll play detective, risking my skin against the unknown, and then what? I have a breakthrough in alchemy and dreamwork, which requires my constant attention, and so does my store.

On the other hand, these guys are too dangerous, and I don't want to get in their way the moment they decide to do something nasty. Especially when you consider my lack of any information about their nature and plans for the city. Maybe it's really just some crime lords, but with my luck, I'll end up with a sect of maniacs who want to bring about the apocalypse, summon Cthulhu, incarnate Dark Gods, and create an association of stand-up fans.

And you know, in that moment, it was like I felt something.

It was as if a huge and prickly hedgehog had tried to pull my buns apart and be born backward, halfway through the sticky and unpleasant feeling of approaching f*cking fuck up. Never before had my intuition (my gut, not my clairvoyance) given me such vivid warnings, literally forcing me to move the situation from the "someday later" to the "we should check it out" folder.

With a quiet sigh, I disperse the shiver that had come from the anticipation of danger, which was only getting in my way, and start planning my ruined day off. I may be an alarmist, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Well, I have this urge: to check and confirm at least one thing before I run out of town in terror. Too much has been invested in this town, in my lab, and my potions and reagents. It would be a shame to give it all up, not only because of the financial issue but also because I didn't want to lose the comfort I'd accumulated. I've always been a homebody because people who have things to do outside don't live on the internet with a 4chan registration. And any brute who wants to kick me out of my home rut, I'll perform a sex-change operation with my bare hands. Without fucking anesthesia!

The very first point on my search list was the painting company that was painting the magistrate's building right now. In fact, it was because the redevelopment of the administrative quarter had begun that Dajua had come from his village to the Kraj - it was a job that paid a lot more than what he was getting at home. Still, no one wants to go to these fucks for the standard pay. They had to pay extra, because there were very few builders and other craftsmen among the locals, except for those who were directly involved in the processing of raw materials extracted from the forests and making all sorts of things out of those raw materials. The latter is a lot here, that's for sure.

Alas, I did not find any diabolical conspiracy, except for the somewhat stolen material and the terrible profanity. A special construction dialect, where foul language is not swearing but talking. By the way, about the deceased was also remembered here, and unflatteringly - his breakdown and drinking spree, and then the "suicide" increased the load on the rest of the brigade noticeably. There is a reason to be upset, I can't argue with that.

I note the position and signature of those who spoke most about the deceased on the shadow sphere and then leave them alone. Then I find the place where they sleep and sift through their memories. For now, it is more important to check the magistrate and the buildings around it, now that I have the chance. The guards are plentiful, and so is the bright light, which reduces my disguise and prevents me from taking advantage of the shadows. It takes a lot of sweat to get close enough to penetrate a building.

The administration itself interests me not only as possible accomplices of mysterious killers but also simply as a place. The protection here is not bad, but not for me and my abilities: one shadowy step right through the wall was enough to get inside. I wandered around the building, noting the individual, extremely protected rooms - the treasury, the vault, and the offices of the important people. All of these places I could break into without being seen, but it would take time, so I decided not to rush into them. But my idea of stealing the treasury and riding off into the sunset had just found its proper backbone and execution plan.

Regularly activated my Gaze, trying to spot any traces. In this way, I gradually became familiar with the building's magical defense system, as well as its weaknesses. The core of all the charms that made up the central knot of the networks that braided the building looked like bright green threads as if breathing the freshness of spring and the smell of a thunderstorm. They were made to sense any life within their radius, to mark any movement and any misstep of possible intruders. While they did not appear much in the main part of the building, in the sheltered rooms and corridors even a mouse could not slip through.

I wandered through the corridors, hiding from the guards, one of whom had a good sensory technique that sensed the vibrations of the floor. It was passive, like my shadows, and didn't require the cost of activation, which was a rare thing. His rare class of stone warrior and his twenty-ninth level required him to be a formidable opponent. And his uniform was officer's and pompous. The gentleman was about my age, maybe a little younger, and gave the impression of an over-aged rich man. He was a kind of a golden boy, imprisoned in a warm place, but, nevertheless, quite appropriate to this place and extremely dangerous. He evoked a peculiar mixture of respect and contempt, mixed with mild interest.

By the way, I met a couple more elite fighters, one of whom was a level thirtieth bodyguard. He followed the ridiculously short man, who was the local mayor, step by step. The mayor himself was short, not ugly, but he lost all laughter when he looked at his very stern face and cold eyes, like bare feet in winter. Such an important hen!

I was about to leave when I noticed traces of the black substance on the door handle leading to one of the closed and carefully shielded offices.

It wasn't for nothing.

I didn't go in there, just noting to myself the necessity. I'd do better at night when the concealment maintained by the shadows was at its maximum, and there would be few people who could interfere with me or get caught in the crossfire. Only the guards will walk, but if I don't mess up, they won't get in my way. And if I screw up, I'll still be able to escape.

While the day was in full swing, I went back outside, deciding to wander through the ranks of construction workers some more. Maybe I'd find someone or something that would be interesting. I didn't, but I noticed one of Dajua's acquaintances nestled in a corner. I calculated the risks, then hid in some far corner and slipped into someone else's slumber, looking over the events of the past few months.

And do you know what I found there?

No-thing!

No suspicious persons, no strange events, nothing at all. But I found out that the deceased often took various part-time jobs to make extra money. He did not know the exact addresses of all the employers, but he did know about a couple of moonlighting jobs, which gave me more addresses to check. I gave the drunkard a dream about the best drink he had ever had, and then I left the dream and went out into the real world.

By evening I had gone around all the places I had learned about from sleeping memory. At the same time I had time to eat, and even bought pies (with apples!), having had a good time. Alas, I have found out nothing, except the address of a thief's brothel and the location of a smugglers' stash. The latter could be visited somehow because this smuggling was all sorts of herbs and parts of monster bodies, very useful for one humble alchemist.

I left satisfied with my find and dissatisfied with my lack of leads.

So far I've only got a trace of the black crap in the magistrate's office, but I'll get there later. Then it's time to look at the situation with those guards who dealt with the dead painter's case. It's an ephemeral lead, too, but it's better than doing nothing at all and just waiting.

I feel less and less like doing this challenge.

It's a bit uncomfortable.

Research of the local guardhouse yielded nothing. I mean, I found a lot of interesting things, but nothing about my case. The guards in general were surprisingly lazy assholes, unwilling to overexert themselves. The man who took the hanged man off the noose, of course, saw some irregularity and unnecessary trauma on the dead man's body. But he did not voice his conclusions in any way, for what for? To add unnecessary work to himself?

The murdered man was no one at all, so there was no one to answer to the guards for his death. And there was also a suitable version - he had hanged himself! Especially since he had no intention of getting involved in a criminal showdown with the debtors without an order from above. And yes, he also thought that the man either owed a lot of money or had sassed someone.

Actually, local thieves do not like to kill where they can be forced to work off the damage, or even put into debt slavery, often without the prefix "debt". But "do not like" does not mean "do not do". And it is usually not the debtor himself who is forced to work it off, but his relatives and friends, on whom the debt of the punished person was shifted, and with interest.

Going back to the investigation, which didn't happen, no one paid the guards to turn aside - the guards handled the covering up of the tracks of the crime themselves. With their resources, so to speak. Looking at it this way, a lazy guard was far worse than a corrupt one. And he was corrupt too. A complete set of all the standard vices and shortcomings of a corrupt civil servant. Hey, up there! Did I ever leave Earth, or didn't I?

I didn't want to go back to the magistrate's office. And I shouldn't have to, not that I care! But if there was any danger in this town, I wanted to get away from it with knowing what I had to get away from. So far, except for a bunch of suspicions and a few disturbing facts, I know nothing. I need more information, more understanding of the situation.

That's why I crawl around the signal strings and straight into the jaws of trouble. The only thing that calmed my paranoia a little was the firm decision to run away as soon as my butt start heating. I might not be strong enough to fight a truly powerful enemy, but I could run away from trouble even with overwhelming superior firepower and physical strength.

The night magistrate was far more frightening than it was during the day. The long empty corridors, lit only occasionally by a bored sentinel surveying the territory entrusted to him, seemed like the guts of some monster into whose jaws you had carelessly stepped. The silence was broken now and then by the rustles of the squeaking wind, the creaking of the floorboards, and the quiet rattle of the old walls. It seemed as if the place was alive, reasonable, and want to tell me something, something very important.

So, as I shook off the imagination and suppressed the reflex urge to get more information about the building from the clairvoyance, I slowly crawled in the direction I needed to go. My assumption that the protection of this place would be stronger at night was not justified, for the protection remained the same. But there was more darkness and shadows, and fewer bystanders. So I got to my destination rather quickly, learning to slip carefully through the obstacles with shadow steps.

The green lines of spells could certainly have disturbed me or at least detected me, but the spells were far from perfect, so I chose to take my chances. If the door was covered by alarms in a solid layer, as well as the window, then the walls were enchanted much weaker. And so the further action was ridiculously simple: one shadow step into the office next to the one I wanted, whose protection looks much more modest, and then another step, already through the wall, right into the right room. Don't forget to carefully dodge the alarms in the process.

The good mood that had been provoked by the realization of my intelligence and coolness was immediately extinguished as soon as I entered the room itself. The first thing I noticed most obvious was that it was very dirty. I mean, in the real world everything was clean, tidy, and luxurious, but the Gaze showed literally layers of black as night traces and footprints, along with puddles of black sludge that seemed to smear even the ceiling. I was scared to get out of The Shadow, despite the lack of any serious alarms (the little things that didn't count). It was nasty to step into that shit, even if the clairvoyance was silent.

In the end, I came to a compromise solution by simply wrapping a shadow around my legs. Whatever the stuff was, the aggressive energy of the shadow would have to prevent it from coming at me. I made the outer shell of my "Boots" from the usual solidified shadow (just a barrier that took a bizarre shape), but inside it, I accumulated a huge amount of charge, corroding, and cold-rotting power. What if it's contagious and I'm walking on it?

When I got out of the Shadow, I made a mask of shadows, too, for the smell was there. It was almost inaudible, more like subliminal and carefully concealed behind the expensive perfume, but it was there. A faint note of something reminiscent of a moldy cellar of potatoes and the sweet smell of decomposed flesh. If I hadn't had my perception, if I hadn't been expecting something like that, I might have missed it. I gave in to my paranoia and poured myself a standard, but high-quality broad-spectrum antidote, just in case.

I wrap my entire body in a thin layer of shadow, and create gloves using the same technique as the boots. I still have to rummage through the owner's desk, which doesn't make me feel good. I feel like a plague doctor, crawling straight into an infected tomb. It is the silence of the clairvoyance and the sense of danger that is most annoying, for I am too used to their constant help.

The desk and the filing cabinets were covered in layers of crap that were not just lying there quietly, but woven together in a structure, unlike any other spell I had ever seen. It was like oil bubbles in a boiling cauldron, stacked in an incomprehensible and mind-numbing pattern. It's quite a sight, especially when the clairvoyance is silent.

My intuition, on the other hand, reacted to these spells, even if barely perceptible, as if breaking through the muffler, weakening considerably in the process. The black blotches covered only a few drawers. One in a filing cabinet, one in a desk, and another secret one, also in a desk, but with no outward manifestation of being there. The shadow sphere found the hiding place easily, but it was never able to examine the enemy's magic. And I did not doubt that it was the enemy - it was all too alien, too evil, too ugly. It couldn't be friendly to humans, or anyone for that matter.

Okey.

It's time to play the great thief and burglar.

How do you pick a lock that is invisible and inaudible to you, and its construction is not at all clear? And if you do not want to touch the lock, what then? The answer was surprisingly simple, in fact. In fact, all the locals, I noticed, liked to lock the windows and doors, but forgot about the walls. Of course, they are thick and strong, and you can't get through them or break them quietly!

I think, no I'm sure, that those with abilities similar to mine have probably thanked the local rich people for their attitude toward security more than once. Even though I couldn't feel the spells made of the black stuff properly, I had no trouble using the back door. The shadow sphere sensed something, or, pardon my language, it sensed too much of nothing. In the area where such peculiar magic was at work, there was an emptiness. Barely noticeable, almost undetectable, but it was there. In theory, even without Gaze, I could figure out the location of the traps, albeit with great difficulty, using only a detailed probing of my surroundings with the sphere.

The main thing was that now I could judge with some certainty the degree of closeness of the hiding places. It was the closet that I opened first. The biggest area and the most room to maneuver. I'd never tried this before, but I managed to move into The Shadow, reach inside the closet (three layers of protection, just in case), and then just as carefully open the door on the other side, molding a levitating key from the shadows. It was outside that all the keyholes were caulked with invisible crap, but on the other side, everything was normal.

I could have used the shadow even without sticking my hands in the danger zone, but I didn't risk doing such obvious manipulations directly on the surface of the cabinet. So I just used the newfound trick I'd picked up after the Bigfoot fight - to create a shadow attack while I was still stepping. When I came back to reality, I had already managed to leave a shadow structure hanging in the air right in the middle of the protected cell. And then all I had to do was manipulate it without touching the signal threads.

To be honest, this was hardly the first time I'd ever created an object so delicate and precise from shadows. The costs, by the way, are quite bearable, as for a miniature drone on a magic base. Unfortunately, I have to fully control the movement of the shadows down to the millimeter, and the subtlety of the effect has limits.

And how I would love to create a molecular thread from nothing and cut enemies with a single stroke! Better yet, make a Kalashnikov assault rifle with infinite ammunition and shoot shadow bullets out of shadows. Ideally even a tank! So that I won't be crushed by the sponge-rolling machine that fell from above.
T.N.

At first, looking at the stack of documents in my hands (shadow gloves on), I thought something like, "I'm good boy!"

Then, however, the simple truth dawned on me - I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with this waste paper. The Gaze showed only a few uniform black spots on the paper and parchment, but nothing more. And the rest will only be understood by reading everything else listed here. That is, by reading and understanding a huge stack of documents that were written by bureaucrats and probably for bureaucrats. After all, the owner of the office, with his position, is supposed to deal with all sorts of red tape.

As the clairvoyant clues and the paperwork made clear, this man, Pereda Solshai, was in charge of cooperating with the adventurers and diverting some of the loot to the city. Not the king's supplies, where most of the resources and finances go, but not bad at all, especially if you imagine what kind of kickbacks he might have on contracts.

Like, for example, in this document, which I hold in my hands, cringing with a migraine. From a legal point of view, as far as the local mentality is concerned, everything is very clear and transparent. But in reality, he crushed a sudden rival of his old acquaintances by simply cutting him off from all profitable deals and chasing him through the guards, who - what a miracle! - suddenly stopped taking bribes. A whole story, comparable to another detective's, enclosed in a single piece of paper.

And there was a whole stack of such "dirty" in every sense of the word - the man had stolen quite a bit. But despite all the compromising nature of these notes, there was nothing here that would indicate what I was looking for. And I don't give a fuck about all these financial schemes and cool topics. Even if there was something here, I would not have seen it, because without clairvoyance all tasks of this kind are impossible for me. And even with clairvoyance working, I did not understand everything...

An idiot!

Clairvoyance!

It can't detect this slurry and those affected (gobbled up?) by it! This means that if any of this toilet paper turns out to be unclear and completely closed to me, it will mean that I have hit the trail. Kostya, you can be very clever sometimes, albeit dumb.

I begin to flip through the stack faster, carefully watching the order of the individual documents (should I put them back without arousing suspicion?). It's all wrong! I do not need any dirt and corruption, give me what I am looking for, bitch!

By the end of the stack, my head was not hurting, but literally splitting, forcing me to take a couple of light healing and stimulating potions. Nothing that has severe effects on the body, though such "harmless" potions come out weaker and cost a lot more. Just a little migraine relief and the opening of a second breath.

There are results, though not many. There are only two documents, and I can see the files themselves quite well with my "third eye," it's just that there is an understatement in both of them. I got all the background on several participants in the illegal case and their interest, but there were a couple of blind spots. Blanks that I could not read at all, as if they did not exist. But they were there on paper!

The first was one of the local solicitors, who was engaged in sealing transactions involving representatives of several parties. And his name was mentioned many times, but only in the last two deals described in the available papers did it become hidden. That is, about six months ago. It turns out that this man was tightly involved in Solshai's dealings before, but he was "eaten up" only recently. Or maybe I just made a false assumption, which is also possible.

The second and final trace was a contract for the storage of reagents, obtained by a couple of hooked guild teams in the course of a very successful raid. They found a whole clearing with the rarest and most forbidden mushrooms, which resulted in the "dark" sale. The mushrooms themselves were stored in the same warehouse under a different name, but it doesn't matter.

The important thing was that I was able to trace the path of the goods, even if I almost passed out from the headache. Clairvoyance jumped up in my skill list, and then my consciousness was filled with visions. I knew and saw the goods being processed, brewed, and sold to the same adventurers, even a few shots of them using the mixtures. I saw dens and smokeries where members of the urban bottom were getting high, enjoying a drug that had been made from the same reagents, but in a different, unofficial, laboratory. Although many of the makers were the same as in the past.

I could barely keep from passing out from the pain, but I was still able to grasp the realization that some of it had disappeared. Hidden behind an invisible wall, cutting off my gaze, my eye, and my will. And I'd like to know where the goods have gone.

It took me a long and hard time to come to my senses. I could have done it faster if I had taken off the shadow suit, which was very demanding on concentration and reserve, and just rested. But no headache and trembling in my hands would have forced me to touch the substance that covered the cabinet. So I had to sit and breathe deeply and measuredly, gradually getting rid of a couple of drills and jackhammers that had made a nest in my skull and were now indulging in all sorts of vices and noisy partying.

When I was able to perceive my surroundings adequately again, I drastically used another compound, one of the most valuable in my arsenal. It was essentially a relaxant for those who had overstretched their shamanic organs in communicating with the higher world. Any goblin or orc would have sold the souls of all their kin and loved ones for this vial (green ones, they are). But it helped the "ordinary" clairvoyant as well, immediately eliminating the headache and some of the muscle spasms.

It was a pity to waste since I no longer had the necessary reagents to make it. I needed the feathers of a bird of prey from the depths of the swamps, and a couple of herbs from there that were not to be found in the forest biome. But if one does not spend at such times, why make and keep at all? I have chronic greed as it is, but even that must be tempered!

My lucid consciousness allowed me to start working with the protected containers again. Exactly the same trick as the first time allowed me to open the lock in the desk, giving me access to the main drawers. Alas, there was nothing of interest here at all, only semi-legal charts, two official seals, and a stack of credentials. I could have checked it in the same way, using clairvoyance, but my heart felt that my body would not be able to withstand another such marathon. Not without consequences, that's for sure.

I stacked all the papers neatly, both from the desk and from the closet, and then I put them all back together without disturbing the magic that had covered the locks. The stash in the desk took me a long time to open carefully, but in the end, I had to admit that there was no way I could open it without being noticed. And whether to open it, if in the morning the owner of the office will notice the wrong and begin to be nervous. It is better to come back later when I have recovered my strength, and then look for ways to break in. In the meantime, it's not so critical.

I check the objects in the cache with my sphere, recognizing the familiar shapes. A dagger and some kind of amulet. The dagger and the amulet both reek of familiar and comprehensible magic, which leads me to the version in which the cache serves as the "final argument". Like, if they come to get me right now, then at least I'll get one last shot. There was another object, which I did not dare touch, however, and only realized that it was some kind of amulet. It had been the object of my interest, but the time, the risks, the fatigue, and the reluctance to take risks right now... Still, I would go through the clues I'd already learned, and then we'd see.

Quietly I leave the office, and then the magistrate.

All day's work, and the active use of abilities - it was enough to knock someone stronger than one Kostya. When I got to the workshop, all I could do was undress, crawl to the bed, and pass out. I remembered to check myself for all sorts of nastiness: fatigue was no reason to turn off paranoia.

I had no dreams.

Gashan Abn-Tai, the chief solicitor of the Kraj's administrative apparatus, was, at first glance, a perfectly ordinary old man. Even in the Gaze, he didn't ooze black nastiness or resemble some kind of monster. At first glance.

However, the longer I watched him, the more I noticed the warning signs, causing a strange desire not to wait for trouble, but just to leave the city quietly. I might even try to load the heavy and voluminous equipment of my laboratory onto Yggra. Just don't sit here, watching for obscure things, waiting for the fuck-up to come to visit at any fucking moment! But if the troubles are waiting for me, I'm not going to leave it untouched! They're waiting!
T.N.

But getting back to the old, skinny, big, angry heron-looking clerk, I can only say that he seemed normal only at first glance. Almost immediately I could see certain oddities in Gaze, like a floating image at times. It was like some kind of illusion, albeit of very high quality. And even though I couldn't look under it without risk, I could tell that it was there with almost a hundred percent probability, even ten minutes of observation was enough.

The second ring was a strange movement under the old man's clothes. All hussars can go fuck themselves, because I could easily sense in the shadow sphere how something was moving under the bureaucrat's skin, deforming it. Like balls of snakes and worms crawling from place to place, looking for a comfortable position. This also includes the very strange plasticity and gracefulness of the solicitor. As if he were not an eight-level official, but at least a high-class fighter, or at least a dancer.

The third ring was the lack of sleep. After a day of being in an ambush, I pretty much wanted to give up and leave, but I stayed up late into the night. When this workaholic cretin finally stopped messing around with papers and went to bed, I immediately tried to penetrate his sleep. The keyword was "tried," for I found no dreams. It was as if the thing, so successfully pretending to be human, had just laid down and closed its doll's eyes, but had never fallen asleep.

It didn't want to?

Didn't know how?

It couldn't?

I have no idea, to be honest. But it makes me too uncomfortable to think that this strange and incomprehensible old man would notice me. It wasn't intuition, it was just that this situation was starting to remind me too much of a typical horror movie from Earth times. I can't argue that this world is a scary tale, but it's really scary right now. Not by death and torment, but by its incomprehensibility and the strangeness that literally oozes out of every situation. It's not for people, the power that has made a nest in the Kraj, it's not for people at all.

As much as I wanted to leave Grandpa alone and go to the second point (the smuggling depot), I knew I had to decide now. Whether I was interfering in someone else's plans by sticking my head in the tiger's mouth, or leaving it all behind and walking away. I wanted to leave, I'll be honest, spitting on my heroism and the likely gain of experience and titles. If my misadventures have taught me anything of value, it would be cautious.

As for the locals, I really don't care about them. The region is a hodgepodge of bandits and bastards of all kinds, which in the good sense should be burned and salted. And the lives of those who aren't scum and bastards... well, I won't cry much for them. And no bastard can reproach me for my decision to leave the Kraj was wrong.

Obviously, because of the rightness of this action, I did not even think of any other option than to get into this situation deeper, find the lair of the creature that eats another's an essence, and then pull his ass over his face, insert a dick instead of an eye, and force him to blink!

Some would say that I suffer from excessive impulsiveness and risk-taking, but they would be completely and utterly wrong. For I do not suffer from it in any way.

I, fucking, enjoy it, bitches!

Despite my pretentious inner monologue, I wasn't about to go straight to the strange (un)old man with knives. Not right away? I'd prepare first, find out more, maybe even send the guards to them and other authorities, if they had not already recruited them, and only then proceed to cut out the infected myself. This isn't the zombie apocalypse! Banzai tactics do not work here, because you have to think with your head. I may not have the smartest head, but I can plan, albeit slowly. And the fact that I used to plan for quarterly reports, not for clearing out the creepy and dangerous cults or the lair of the gensteallers from WH40k . Well, that's a matter of time, the main thing is to get down to business, and then the experience will come. Which is the son of hard mistakes.

But even that little bit was not given to me, because the old man pretended to be awake and started to go somewhere, very quickly and no longer pretending to be old and infirm. I would say now, from the outside, that he has obviously developed his dexterity quite well and also has some kind of coordination perk. I could tell about the latter, for I had one myself.

He came out of the house a few minutes later, and then he was joined by two unassuming-looking figures sitting in a neighboring cabin. I'd noticed them before, but I thought they were just late-night bums. But they weren't! Quite fighters, and not weak, judging by the fluidity of their movements. There was a certain irregularity about their bodies, too. Moreover, now that their movements were swift and nimble, my Gaze could see that the same black slime was falling from under the illusions that masked their true identities.

I had to follow them very carefully, for without foresight support I could not guarantee the extent of their sensory abilities, nor the presence of them at all. In such a case, it was better to be overly careful than to bite your elbows after you had been uncovered. And there must be quite a few of them there...

"There" was a rather large but inconspicuous and unassuming building, situated just off the artisan quarter. Inside, however, my shadows discerned many beautifully and luxuriously furnished rooms, vast dungeons, and something else, quite intangible, but it was its intangibility that demonstrated its presence in this place.

And there was also an orgy.

A real orgy, so it is, with lots of whores, drugs, and all kinds of obscure personalities. A kind of elite club, not for everyone, which, however, is better not to get into for your well-being. At least, because six of the members were being stabbed and flogged to death at once. Literally, before my eyes, if that term applies to the perception of the shadow sphere. There were a couple of lovers who couldn't get enough of each other, fucking in some kind of bath. Literally, they couldn't, because they were really eating each other up, not distracted by the minutiae of life. It's a little nauseating, to be honest.

Also, the only exterior wall of this building that faced the public side was recently whitewashed and even painted. I think I even know who did it, and what happened to that poor guy.

Conclusion - painting buildings leads to suicide!

Ban the painting of buildings!

It was hard to get inside for several reasons. One of them was the complete lack of normal windows, for even the ones that were there... were not windows. Just curtained outlines, with brickwork hidden beneath the curtains. There were some weak signal spells, too, but they wouldn't be a problem for me, nor would the lack of windows.

But the Gaze, showing me a building completely covered in blackness, was very motivating to be cautious. What's more, the blackness was much more alive here. If I hadn't wanted to touch it before, I was sure that I didn't need to touch it now. The sense of danger pierced even through the strange plug created by this stuff, so it must have been analogous to the "don't get in, it'll kill you" sign.

I am gradually overwhelmed by a strange mixture of astonishing calm and disgust. I just know that this should not exist. Whether I am a hero or not, such crap should be burned with napalm, if not with atomic bombs! I just instinctively feel the indignation of my very nature, resisting the existence of this bullshit.

I shook my head and listened to myself perplexedly. Where did I get such an inner inquisitor, eager to arrange the solemn burning of all kinds of evil? No, I would be happy to burn everything here myself, but the hatred and disgust that came over me were like someone else's. Not intrusive and not breaking my own will, but not my own. My title, heroic one, are you messing with my poor mind again?

Anyway, I'll go along with that title now.

It's time for me to start a little personal war with the chthonic horror. Beat Cthulhu's face in?

Why not?

I moved to the nearest rooftop to make myself comfortable. Tomorrow (or is it today?), my workers will have to fend for themselves without my support, because I'll be sleeping it off. I need to get a good look at everyone coming in and out of this place, so I know who to visit afterward.

It would be reckless to attack these fuckers just like that, especially in their place of power, but it wouldn't hurt to crush them one at a time, preferably so as not to disturb everyone else too early.

How many times have I said I'd make a great killer, and now look at me! Now I have a great chance to test myself against very real targets. Aren't dreams come true?

I smiled at my thirty-two teeth, which made me feel a little better. It was as if a heavyweight had been lifted from my shoulders. The decision had been made, which meant there was no more need to rush around in the dark. Now I just have to stay on track and be the most survivable bastard in this city, killing all the people I've designated as my enemies.

They've got a warm, sweat, sinister cult going on here, not expecting any inadequate types to spoil it for them. Well, frankly, I don't give a shit that they weren't expecting me.

I'm already here!
T.N.

* * *

Hp-ho-ho.

Another detective chapter in which the hero becomes a little more aware of exactly what he has to work with, and also accepts the fact that he can't live without adventures for his ass.

However, the fun part is ahead.

The only thing I'd like to point out about the Dices is the very high roll on clairvoyance, which has reached a new level. Seriously, it is, so far, the most useful skill for him. And most importantly, it works all the time, which makes its development quite easy.

In the next chapter there will be normal action.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/522166

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP