Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 31

Chapter 31

Sometimes, when I have nothing to do and sleep doesn't come, I ask myself a rather prosaic question - why do my plans and intentions so often go so (if not fucked up) the exact opposite of what I had in mind? Seriously, though! This tendency was noticeable even in my first world, but after moving to Alurej it has taken on a very frightening scale. It was enough to remember the end of my attempt to eat cherry pies to get a rough idea of the depths of the abyss before me.

I would like, of course, to believe that it was just accidents multiplied by bad luck. I would even agree to believe that it was the result of my not-so-smart decisions and clinical idiocy. But something tells me that the luck characteristic missing from my status is wickedly fluid. If not to say bouncing! I do not argue with the fact that I am sometimes wildly lucky in various dangerous situations. My survival from my encounter with the Abomination's avatar was pure luck. But then why do my wishes and intentions so often turn out to be fucked up?

Wanted to wait out an incomprehensible thunderstorm in a creepy dungeon without going any farther than necessary to escape the rain? Take a full-fledged raid through a huge necropolis with two of the legendary monsters that lived there! I even got to speak to the second one.

Wanted to take a walk on the first hearth of civilization you met in the new world, and still dared to relax? And get on your head a squad of elite liquidators and three fugitives, who because of his idiocy had to be dragged out of the city tightly encircled!

Trying to settle down in a convenient town so I could lay low and not show my face for at least a year or two? Get a full-fledged war with a goddamn cult and a legendary creature at its head! And that thing wasn't even in uniform, so it was only legendary.

And that's how the hell it always happens!

Now I was just going to let the robbers kill my person, and then I was going to run off in a direction that even I didn't know. It was a great plan, really. But then I decided to adapt it a bit, to make it perfect so that the win-win scenario turned into completely unviable nonsense. All I wanted was to reduce the casualties among the representatives of the caravan, to calm my raging conscience.

There were too many attackers - almost two hundred orcs, a swarm of goblins, and several monsters, including two ogres and some obscure gorilla (not Bigfoot). The latter was not only a rare monster but it was also possessed by some kind of dark spirit, also of a rare grade. The result was not two relatively harmless monsters for a coordinated team of adventurers, but one that could even keep me busy for a few minutes (if I'm not going easy, of course). Now imagine what would happen to a not-so-protected caravan if such a horde decided to attack us at once. The guards might be a hundred and fifty, and the caravan drivers themselves might be fighting for their lives, but the villagers fleeing Kraj would be chopped up into a vinaigrette. No, my legend would be drowned with outrageous ease, but the crowd... And mostly not at all adapted to the battles, people! So I decided to "help out a little," to eat fish and not sit on the bottle.
T.N.

I fucking helped!

The first thing I did was to quietly kiss the sweetly sleeping Tarija on the forehead to wake her up. In response to an obviously perplexed look, I snuggled up to her and whispered in her ear:

"Orcs are preparing an ambush." And without letting her panic, I continue. "Wait here, I'll be back soon."

She was just beginning to open her mouth to say something platitudinous, and I was already using the steps, instantly standing beside Ygra, who was slowly approaching the enemy. Naturally, I covered my face with a mask and avoided looking at the figure of the three-meter-long Amazon. Just in case.

My appearance made her jump up in surprise, almost falling out of concealment, but even she was smart enough not to hug me, being so close to the hostile units. That's why I can tolerate this nuisance because she's much quicker and clearer in combat than she is in the casual world. I was able to explain her plan of action in a few sentences. Now she knew who she had to kill, and how she had to kill it.

I'll have to get her to show me her Status again because clairvoyance tells me that she's become more dangerous since the day I saw her. It's not surprising - she's gained four levels since then, and even then she was thirty-three. With parameters like that, multiplied by the racial bonuses of the swamp ogres, she was bound to get a few new tricks in her arsenal. At the very least, she was already noticeably faster than the last time we met. It was as if she'd improved her dexterity, though it was more likely that she'd gotten another species ability since she was focused on strength and endurance.

Anyway, we reached our goal in less than a minute.

Six shamans, including one who had reached the thirtieth level, were clearly preparing some kind of mass nastiness, related to illusions, judging by Gaze's readings. The clairvoyance immediately kicked in, confirming what the Gaze indicated - a truly powerful illusion, or rather the effect on one's mind should have knocked out a fair share of the defenders before the battle even began. It was carefully prepared and now unfolded, not created out of nothing.

The guys had obviously been preparing for this day for weeks, and they had not skimped on reagents and sacrifices. However, they hadn't planned for me anyway, which was why it was so fucked up. For them, of course, not for us.

My attack was rapid and powerful, though I tried to use the least shadow possible. If I wanted to, I could have covered the entire clearing with the ritual I was preparing with a huge shadowy cloth, leaving nothing but desiccated bodies behind. Yes, there are a lot of them - about twenty orcs and a shitload of goblins - but I'd finally outgrown such enemies, even if there were a lot of them.

Alas, the simplest way turned out to be of little use and too risky for my incognito (lighting up in front of the sensors), but clairvoyance suggested the perfect way to make everything fast and cool. No, I'm not kidding, I was jealous of my ingenuity! The intrigue, of course, is not on the level of Game of Thrones, but it's still cool.

In less than a second, I had infused the shadows of each shaman with my power, causing them to take the three-dimensional form of a humanoid shadowy silhouette, and then pierce the green-skinned witch's vital organs. No one was able to repel the attack, though everyone was protected. The spirits didn't have time to react, and those that did either didn't want to die or couldn't stop the power of the shadow energy. Only the oldest shaman survived, but I quickly realized that the silhouette was stuck in his shields, which looked like enormous translucent sea shells (where in the forests do ocean spirits come from?), layered on top of each other, and then I took action. Gain control and the shadow put all its available energy to extend a needle and pierce the mighty old man's skull, freezing his brains to smithereens. Fatality.

What's the trick, you ask? After all, it's a banal murder, the same as the first option, only with minor changes! What's up, Kostik?

Kostya is not stupid, Kostya is smart! The shadows attacked everyone but the second strongest and most powerful shaman, without even trying to destroy him. But beneath his feet was a saturated and phonetic blot, subtly hinting at thick circumstances. In such tribes, especially if several tribes are working on a single goal at once, there is always a high degree of competition. And here was such a chance to get rid of the one who was stronger than you, as well as the rest of your colleagues. The clairvoyant told me for sure that this gentleman was the only shaman of his tribe, for he had wiped out all the others who could claim his position in the future long ago and surely.

Orcs aren't very smart, but they're certainly not simple beasts, so they picked up on the connection very quickly, so quickly that they reacted immediately. They probably would have figured the situation out, especially considering that the surviving spirit caster was himself terrified of the power that had arisen beneath him. But he'd been let down by his carefully honed skills of showing no weakness and keeping a poker face. That's why the others didn't see his fear, only focus, and concentration.

And when the arrow, shot more by accident and from nerves than from a real attempt to kill, was repelled not by his defense but by a tentacle rising from his shadow, they asked no more questions, immediately rushing into battle, eager to tear the bastard who had stained the blood of the sacred hunt. As said before, orcs aren't stupid animals, but they're not smart, either.

As I watched the carnage, with the spirits of the dead shamans unchained, avenging the deaths of their masters or employers (depending on the contract), I could only rub my hands together in satisfaction. It was great! Not many would be left alive in the clearing, and there would be reinforcements coming from all directions.

I teleported back into the arms of Tarija, who was quietly panicking but trying hard not to show it, and then I hugged her back and pretended to be asleep, my face against her neck. The lady is clearly floating from this display of intimacy, but I don't really care. The main thing is that no one noticed my absence.

Now it's time for my green girl.

The guards, among whom were full-fledged warlocks, sensed the magical emanations. They were just beginning to sound the alarm, not even sounding it at full power, but only communicating it to their colleagues, comrades, and employers. Ygra, on the other hand, did not wait, attacking the trio of the largest monsters, the shamans who controlled them, and the other forces that covered them. Two ogres, a possessed monkey, one strong shaman three weaker helpers, and many, many ordinary greenlings. Quite a force, capable of taking a well-fortified village, tearing apart a medium-sized caravan, or rattling the nerve of our group, perhaps even winning a Pyrrhic victory. And it's only one of the units that surround us, even if it's a powerful one.

The game was very professional! The level of a bowling champion, I'm telling you, if not an honored one. Getting close to the guarded shamans was problematic, even for a masterfully concealed ogre, especially for her size. She didn't have my level of stealth, and the swamp wasn't her kind to pull off such miracles. But a huge log, left in the forest by someone (some drunken woodcutter had knocked down a tree and even managed to chop off the branches before he sobered up, and this was no joke - clairvoyance would not lie), made a beautiful parabola and crashed straight into the shamans who had not expected such a trap. The guards were few inadvertently struck, for the trajectory of the fall was overhanging, avoiding the more tenacious and armored orcs on top, but the shamans got theirs. All four of them.

Two of them were killed instantly - their defenses simply weren't designed for that kind of damage, even if they had. The older shaman, however, was more cautious. Just before the attack, a bear-mouth emerged out of thin air to cover the shaman, and then it simply chewed out the middle of the log, wiping it from reality. The two halves of the projectile were still gathering their bloody harvest when the shaman, with an unnaturally swift movement, turned toward his intended adversary, already preparing some nasty shit.

Instead of the nasty shit came a huge boulder, launched not much weaker than a cannonball, literally demolishing both the senior shaman and the underdog hiding behind him. This would be a good place to say "strike," but Ygra simply does not know such terms.

It's hard to keep track of the situation with a sphere, but I'm still good enough to notice my personal monster's transition to a full-fledged attack. The blow to the bewildered-looking ogre was frightening: a fractured spine, followed by a crushed skull that left no chance even for the regenerating and very survivable creature. She managed to get back into the stealth, went behind the back of the other, who had just begun to understand the depths of his ass, jumped on his shoulders, and, with her neck between his legs, ripped his head off. She has a morbid fondness for tearing the head off, it must be noted.

After that, her opponent was a far more intelligent possessed creature, capable of competing even with an epic monster by virtue of its dual nature. Especially since the levels of both inhabitants of this body exceeded the thirtieth. It could have been a serious problem for it if the spirit that possessed the monster had been dark. I learned firsthand the power of the swamp ogre's resistance to dark magic.

Much more trouble was caused by the rest of the orcs and goblins, eager to kill the incomprehensible and huge green girl, in whom it was almost impossible to recognize an ogre. It was the hard hide that saved her, almost unresponsive to simple attacks. The ones that did pierce the seemingly soft and silky green skin caused only barely noticeable scratches to the target which managed to heal before the mangled body of the attacker fell back to the ground.

She could have been felled and kicked by the crowd, especially with a possessed creature: orcs certainly couldn't stop this juggernaut, let alone goblins, but they could slow it down and restrain it at the cost of their lives. Fortunately, it didn't come to that, for my next argument made its move.

There was already a silent panic and a red alarm in the camp, after which both Tariya and I crawled under the wheels of our wagon. Of course, I could have participated in the battle, for my alchemist class meant a level higher than ten, and I could have thrown vials from behind the backs. It would have even helped me to stage a colorful death during the battle, maybe even with heroic self-sacrifice, but I was, alas, busy saving my possessions. One that's as big and green and dumb as the logs she tosses around.

I didn't want to help myself - it would be too easy to lose a good chance of setting up my death, but I couldn't help the ogre that was doing my bidding, either. I had to use my Shadow Summoning skill, which had grown considerably from the avatar of the dead creature. The Shadow Summoning, which I hadn't intended to touch until I'd experimentally verified its safety. I was going to experiment with combat, for Ygra was beginning to lose.

I wasn't going to summon a strong entity - a healthy risk and daring dementia are two different things. I had enough small creatures, and now I could summon them more than one at a time. Tarija flinched when I sent the first call straight to the Shadow. She huddled too close to me (almost without fear, reasonably assuming I could protect her, but taking full advantage of the opportunity to press every bulge into me) and was able to sense the distant echo of the magic I was doing.

I did not manifest the Shadows into reality, only constrained their will, forcing them to move in the direction of the passing battle, at the same time fueling them with my power so that they would get there faster. They covered four hundred meters in a dozen seconds, like cool-as-hell athletes, only intangible.

Keeping such a crowd under control was a little difficult, especially when they smelled blood and death, which gave them a surge of strength even while in the Shadows. It was a good thing I'd stopped after summoning the seven lowest shadows, though I felt I could make it a tenth. I knew I had to leave a gap for the last resort.

The shadow attack was swift, efficient, and cryptic, like the ghost of an undead loan shark. They got a dose of energy from me and a commanding kick to the real world and immediately began to fight and kill. And they even had the brains, or whatever was replacing them, to follow a simple directive - to attack those they could kill quickly.

The goblins began to die, as their characteristics were extremely low for long-term survival in the cold and tenacious embrace of the Shadows. The pair had managed to get greedy and attack the orcs at once, and not the weakest, but if the first of them had managed to seep straight into the enemy's ear, drinking the life out of their puny brains, the second Shadow had disemboweled me with a swing of the enchanted dagger, causing a brief flare of headache. Don't fuck with the chieftain, because!

The shadows were furious.

The shadows were rushing into battle.

The shadows thirsted for blood and torment.

The shadows were hungry.

With each kill, they grew stronger and stronger. Fortunately, it was only possible to move quickly from the lowest Shadow rank at the expense of a single kill. A couple of minutes wasn't enough time to take the next rank in the Shadow Hierarchy, or the situation could get out of hand. It was already spiraling out from under him, for the Shadows were growing more and more furious, hungry for more and more. But they still feared me, still dared not disobey me.

Maybe if I had risked trying to call them all off at once, the situation would have changed and I would have been, figuratively speaking, sent away, but now I could give them orders. Even if my orders were limited to directing the attack and general coordination. And the power flowed into me through the threads that bound us together, a payment for the lives I'd devoured. Even faster than it went to support the summons, and I was filling up the reserve at a steady pace.

Since I'm filling, why not spend it on something useful, right? Keeping the creatures in check is hard enough to control shadows, but my concentration was enough to pierce a shadow peg through the foot of a possessed monster, under the cover of a crowd of orcs who could restrain Ygra. And a brief moment of disorientation was enough for Ygra, weary from the attacks of black smoke of magic nature and constant regeneration, to rip out the creature's lower jaw, and then its heart, and straight through its mouth. A rugged girl, as if from Chelyabinsk or, say, Texas itself.
T.N.

The Shadows were gradually knocked out, both with enchanted weapons and with the gradual help of other squads, who had sensed the noise of battle and intuitively understood the need to come to the aid of their "comrades" who had gotten into trouble. Only I, thanks to my constantly regenerating reserves, could summon Shadows faster than they were knocked out. I didn't risk pulling anything stronger than a lowly Shadow dweller, but with so much blood, they grew and developed quickly.

My reserve was still full, and I began remotely knocking out individual greenlings, especially the goblins vulnerable to everything, by attacking through the shadow sphere. The number of enemies began to dwindle at a rate that frightened even me. Controlling the Shadows was a little easier - they were too eager to do what I commanded them to do. Their hatred and fear of me hadn't diminished one bit, but it was overshadowed by bloodlust and endless hunger.

Ygra, who had gotten rid of dangerous opponents, and who had fallen out of the focus of the savage attention of the busy Shadows, quickly escaped, regenerated a few wounds, and then began circling around the enemy, knocking out the distracted and the most marginal. Even managed to tear in two monsters sent by one of the shamans, further reducing the fighting power of the small orc army.

Just six intangible creatures and one ogre is not the kind of power that could stop such a crowd. If the enemy were not Shadows, of course. Extremely powerful disguise and the ability to crawl through shadows, reflexively using something resembling my footsteps, multiplied by invulnerability to bare steel and excellent shadow vision, identifying magical steel, allowed them to keep even this gathering in suspense. Stealth, maneuverability, invulnerability - that was their power.

The really serious guys either didn't have time to catch up with the nimble creatures or were knocked out by the ogre. That wouldn't keep them out for long, either, but then the forces that had started the interlude, provoked by my intrigue, cut in, and the relatively organized defense, which had almost turned into a counterattack, turned into a real fight of all against all. The Shadows, like Ygre, had no choice but to circle like vultures, feasting on this smorgasbord.

The reserve did not want to empty, though the constant circulation of energy was not the most pleasant feeling. Ten or fifteen minutes more of this and I would start to feel pain, which was not good. Apparently, even a newly acquired magical pulse has limits. Yes, the reserve may be full, but the body still receives stress from the magic, and if you exceed it, you can get into a lot of trouble for no reason at all.

The slaughter among the orcs was not going to stop, already reaching the finish line. All available forces, even including the spirits of the remaining shamans, were mingling in the general carnage. The latter could pose a tangible threat to the Shadows, but the fattened creatures were in no hurry to approach them, and the shamans mostly gave the targets they saw. It's hard to catch a black cat in a black room, especially if it can easily cross into the next room and is not at all eager to meet the catcher.

The finale was close.

There was a ruckus in the caravan's camp and purposeful preparation for the worst. The people here were used to all sorts of things, so they did not panic, rather professionally organizing their defenses. The evening was late, but it was still quite a long way to the night - just to get to the parking lot. It was even strange that the orcs, who usually strike at night, had decided to attack now. Though no, it wasn't strange, because that was exactly what they were counting on unpreparedness, and also the help of a prearranged ritual.

And then I came along and ruined everything, goddamn racist.

No respect for goblin-alurejan representatives at all!

The defenses were already fully built, and all the noncombatants crawled under the ringed wagons and prepared to pray. Though some were clutching crossbows, which made me think of buying my own. The shadows were getting more and more fattening, forcing me to spend more and more energy controlling them, but they were also sending a commensurately large fee.

Already almost without hesitation, attacking with shadow lashes, stakes, and silhouettes all those who try to organize the fighting in order, not allowing the chaos to stop. Ygra took out almost all of the monsters, especially since she didn't encounter anyone comparable to the possessed, and the levels of the monsters weren't particularly impressive. The monsters that she didn't get her hands on were impossible to kill - they were already in the middle of the dump, creating mayhem with respect to everyone, and no one could tell their own from the others.

Still huddled against me, Tarya only breathed heavily in my ear, listening to the noise of the battle from the depths of hell. Even far away from the battle, people are sickened by the screams, the cries, the wheezing, and all the other trappings of the slaughterhouse. I don't care about anything but the Shadows, who should be sent back to their home dimension, because the battle is almost over, and the remnants of the once-powerful squad are fleeing in all directions.

Ygra, not leaving the enemy alone for a moment, reduces the population of the bastards scattered in the bushes. Less than fifty of the more than three and a half hundred greenlings survived, and those were mostly the most cowardly of the goblins. The monsters, shamans, and warriors were all but dead, and no one left my sphere of shadows. I sent the Shadows after some of them, dividing them in this way. Some were torn apart by Ygra's blows. The rest were slashed with blades, whips, and ribbons that slipped from their shadows.

Only a dozen goblins were left alive, but they ran straight into our position and were barely pulverized by the crazed guards and adventurers - crossbows, bows, and magic abilities just turned them into the bloody slurry. The Minor Horde was completely wiped out by just two (don't count summoning) units.

Look likes I became really badass.

I didn't react to Tarija, who was clearly trying to tease me with her ring-modified ass but concentrated on kicking the Shadows back into the Shadow itself. The creatures fought back fiercely but forced themselves to submit to my will, which terrified them to the point of death agony. When the last of the creatures had gone home, showering me with the last of their all-consuming hatred, all I could do was exhale tiredly.

But such loads are too exhausting, whether there is a magic pulse or not. This isn't the first time I've noticed that full reserve doesn't always mean maximum efficiency. Even so, almost half an hour of active use of shadow techniques! It's not like slaughtering a dozen goblins on the sly! Sure, if I'd hit a few times with all my might I could kill every greenhorn within a sphere in ten seconds, but that would be a lot harder, both in terms of having to spend my reserve to the very bottom and in terms of hiding my footprints. And it wasn't certain I'd be able to kill them all - many of them were quite heavily protected, and some of the monsters were remarkably resilient.

Now, among all those corpses, victims of Shadows won't be questioned: barbarian shamans used many things against each other, and victims of ordinary shadow attacks are hard to distinguish from those killed by ordinary blades. I've tried very hard to make the wounds as casual as possible, and not like magical wounds. If they looked at it, they would surely notice the withering and frostbite of the flesh around the edges of the wounds, which is a consequence of the increased power of shadow attacks in terms of the negative effects their touches inflicted. So the blade was enchanted, and there were a lot of them - some of the chieftains had armed their men well, that's all.

So I just single-handedly (if you count Ygra as part of my personal fighting power) took out every single greenskin, saving a whole bunch of lives and probably earning myself a title. Good for everyone, honestly! Everything would have been just fine if it weren't for one little, only a couple of nanometers, "but".

Why the fuck did my "a little help to the defenders to repel the attack" turn into "Konstantin Yuryevich, would you kill them all"? Do I have some sort of class ability to make a f*cking mess on the spot, even if it's not reflected in the Status? Otherwise, I just can't understand how I always get all this.

Well, but my improvised play in three acts, titled "The Alchemist's Death in Paroxysms of Pathos," is canceled due to the absence of part of the acting troupe. The same one that is now entirely (or partially) a corpse.
T.N.

The new Shadow was small, undeveloped, and therefore very easy to control, especially after my marathon experience. I summoned it even before I cast a glance at Status, to find out everything I could about the opinions of the big bosses on the subject of the mess that had occurred. It is quite difficult to look through the eyes of this creature, but it does not even cause a headache, only a pulling discomfort, as if I were wearing an inappropriate hat.

The head of our caravan, fat as three McDuck's regulars, one of the largest suppliers of ingredients from the Kraj, was laughing like a lunatic. Given his size, it looked... threatening. Still, the man looked more like a professional sumo wrestler than a cold-hearted fat boy, and he was a level nineteen.

"You mean... you mean... oh, Mother Serjat, oh, I can't, phew... You mean to tell me that we were prepared for an ambush by a full-fledged horde, stuffed to the brim... oh... and then they, you know, they didn't share something and they fuckin' killed each other? If I didn't know you and your people, I'd take that as bullying, ugh." The hilarity in the fat man's words could have been spread on bread instead of butter and eaten.

"Alas, it is so. My trackers have combed everything they can safely sweep - it's clear that there's a fight of all against all." A tall, slender man, with pointed ears that indicated a good deal of elf blood, answered. "Some of the greenasses creatures decided to change the balance of power on the spur of the moment, but the result was a massacre. If anyone got away, we didn't see them. It's more likely that the rest of the Greens were outmaneuvered by the contracting spirits. I'd seen it before, even on a much smaller scale."

"Are you sure about this?" And that hulking moron seems to be the head of the mercenaries, who report to the merchant himself. "It's too good to be true."

"Sometimes it happens that way." He nods confidently. "I may be wrong, but this version is the most plausible. I don't exclude the possibility that a third force might have intervened during the fight and finished off the winners, but it's even less likely than that version. Lire'Ontle's principle in all its glory - if the most appropriate explanation is something almost impossible, then it is likely to be the right one. You don't have to make entities where you don't need them."

Way to go, man, way to go! Keep believing in Occam's razor, and convince the rest of them. I don't need the extra attention, but it's good for you to raise your credibility with abstruse expressions.

"In any case, I demand to get away from here, even if we have to travel at night." The last of the negotiators, one of the senior commanders of the city guard, or rather, the part of it trained to deal with the woods surrounding the city and the caravan escorts, declared. "My boys can read a trail as well as you can, Barclayne, and they've given me similar suggestions. But, be that as it may, I do not wish to stay here any longer than necessary. I've had enough casualties."

"Of course," The half-elf nodded in agreement. "I support that idea, too. The sun hasn't set yet, so we'll be able to get a good chunk of"

"Trophies." In a word, the brute cut into the conversation.

"It's such a mess, I wouldn't risk going in there. The shamans were hitting with area curses toward the end, so I won't let anyone go through that pile of meat for valuables without a mage." The half-breed protested. "I'm all for collecting trophies, but I'd rather have the rest of them on the way back. In any case, the green raiders take nothing of value except their weapons, and even enchanted weapons are no match for humans. More importantly, the blood will lure all the creatures around. Better come back here in a week. We've marked it, we've flagged it. Even if someone ignores it and gets ahead of us, there's nothing of real value but giblets. And we don't have any experts on how to retrieve them anyway. A couple of guys took the livers of the biggest monsters since the hearts had already been ripped out and eaten by someone."

Какая, однако, подробная лекция! Да и сама идея мне импонирует, благо я и сам не желаю оставаться тут дольше обычного. О моем вмешательстве не заподозрили, вот и не надо ъуъсъукаблядь ситуацию!

And clairvoyance also put into my head a pile of unnecessary information about the system of guild marks and flags denoting a claim for booty in case it can't be taken away immediately. More often than not, these are hung in the case of huge numbers of reagents that can't be properly transported. It's my Ygra who can rip out hearts from ogres and possessed critters and consume them immediately, while they need to pack it all up and take it to the vaults.

I want to, and I need to work off the contract, and I'm scared to wait for someone to come running at the smell of blood. Especially the latter. Although I can almost physically see (through The Shadow's eyes, of course) how they are all consumed by greed. I don't want them to change their minds and dare to stop the caravan, or even turn it back. It's a small fortune in guts, even if I take into account the ones my shadows and Shadows, the enemy spirits and enchantments ruined, and the trivial squeeze.

Fortunately, common sense prevailed over idiocy and no one stopped.

Hail common sense, because the sphere was already sensing all kinds of trash rushing to the delicious smell of fresh meat, blood, shit, and death. Such a smorgasbord would lure many.

Tarya sulked resentfully, managing to do it under my side and breathing down my neck. How you don't have to ask, but she was good at it. The caravan was in a specially prepared and regularly renewed overnight parking lot, a triple of sentries had been posted around who didn't want to be eaten by a passing creature, and I finally had a chance to deal with Status.

The first thing I noticed was the increase in the summon, which was logical in principle - I was very active with it, constantly maintaining the right tension and never relaxing my control for a second. I wouldn't have been able to maintain such a constant stream of regularly renewed Shadows during my normal training. I would have collapsed from exhaustion. It was the feeding from the constant kills, the tactical management and sometimes direct control of the summoned entities, the attempts to cancel out the effect of the sudden disruption of the connection due to the death of unlucky Shadows, and other things I did without even realizing it. It was the same as always: either long and hard or fast but deadly. And such a beating, and such a convenient one, is very difficult to find, as well as to arrange.

A great master of provocation, what else is there to say?

Right now, though, I'm more interested in the bonuses of the ability than in idle speculation about the effect of the provocation skill on my ability to create chaos and destruction.

Summon of the shadow: 5/7

Allows you to summon and impose your will on several inferior, weak, full, or even Elder Shadows; to subdue and control a Shadow, the powers of the caller are spent; a summoned Shadow can linger in reality without feeding the caller for a significant period; allows you to force Shadows to serve as material for shadow abilities; allows, if you have the power, to use Shadows as anchors to use shadow abilities as well as use their senses; allows you to better understand Shadows and communicate to them your commands; allows you to better coordinate the Shadows when working in a group and even, with significant limitations, take them under direct control.

Pretty useful upgrade, even though I'm not going to summon Elder Shadows anytime soon, especially without training. Seriously, I'm not going to, not like the last time I said that! I'm not kidding! I'm not going to test such techniques right in the middle of a battle! And that is the end of it!

In any case, the next award turned out to be no less pleasant and useful. Legendary titles in general are rarely useless, and this one has a title that inspires respect. As an accidental traveler, I am very pleased, honestly. Just as embarrassed and ashamed as a schoolgirl at the reception at the ... dentist.

One Against Many: It requires courage even to fight one on one, it is difficult to win one against ten, almost impossible to do it in a battle with a full hundred, but you spit on the statistics of probability, going to fight against a small army. It may not have been a full army, and it wasn't fought face-to-face, but you came out a winner. A strength worthy of respect and worthy of reward. Bonus: +10 to all stats except class stats, +1 free ability point.

Am I not fuckin' amazing?

Well, aren't I awesome?

Add another level, the thirty-second one, and the day is over. I'd have said it was a good fight if my plan hadn't been to hit and leave in a heartbeat. No, I wanted to help the civilians, because they'd been through enough! Now I had to drag my ass along with them, and endure the jolting, dust, and swearing of the cabbies. Why do I have to go through this over and over again? And how many times do I ask myself that question?

The stats, of course, have risen, and the new level is pleasing, but that's not what I wanted. Just a year of peaceful life, really peaceful - without cults, legendary creatures, creepy Shadows, and suicide missions! Is that too much I ask of the universe?

Okay, what about the stats?

Characteristics (standard):
Strength: 90
Dexterity: 160
Endurance: 95
Perception: 115
Concentration: 120
Energy: 179

Characteristics (class):
Shadow: 117
Dreams: 49
Inspiration: 28

Hm.

Shouldn't I put the five points I get for my level into endurance to get another bonus for a hundred points in characteristic? But no, I don't have to, because the most useless for me branch - endurance, of course, can't be unnecessary, but my whole style is such that I don't get any hits. And fatigue in combat is not a threat to me, as the stat itself is already high enough, and heavy armor I do not lug - the class is not that. Its Ygra with her regeneration needs to constantly improve endurance and strength, but I'd rather wait for another five levels and get up to two hundred of my favorite energy, getting a legendary perk.

The shadows have also developed quite well, but I'm still a long way from being one hundred and fifty. Dreams are still one point away from the first milestone, but there's no way I can practice with this kind of life. I should get a good night's sleep now, instead of having another practice session. I could tear my metaphysical navel and get an astral hernia.

The morning was as crumpled and ordinary as a typical fantasy caravan travel morning can be. And what did these accidental travelers, ever find romantic about it? Or did they only find saving the caravan (and the princesses, don't forget the princesses!) from the bandits romantic, while they didn't find traveling romantic?

However, something did happen this morning, though I couldn't call it a pleasant event. Call it a reflex from a past life, but I always had a strange urge to burrow into the ground when women and girls I knew and didn't know came up to me with a serious face and then said a very disturbing phrase. The one Tarija just said to me.

"Tin... we... we need to talk. I need to."

Maybe I could teleport and escape from this madhouse, disappearing to the others without any trace? My intuition, not my system intuition, but the ordinary, earth intuition of a seasoned 2chaner, stubbornly says that this option would make a lot of sense.

* * *

11 pages.

The conversation with Tarija should have been in the middle of the chapter, after successfully pretending to be dead.

But the MC decided to help out a little, and here we go. Provocation - a crit (with such bonuses!), Ygra - a crit, Shadows - a crit. I was literally flooded with crits.

No, I understand that most of the opponents were just too weak, but this is beyond good and evil. They just multiplied each other by zero, to the cheerful trollrollop of the MC.

And they also fouled the background in such a way that the trackers didn't even dare to go there. And they wouldn't have found anything, except maybe Ygra's footprints.

All in all, MC as always.

Good for everyone.

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/522758

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP