Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Chapter 11

Chapter 11

To say that the representatives of the glorious House Asterium had no questions for me was an understatement of criminal proportions. These questions were already threatening to outweigh their politeness and trust in Locius's opinion when they were counting the number of freaks I had killed. Only sincere gratitude, the aforementioned trust in Locius, and a trivial fear of my mysterious personhood saved me from detailed questioning. It is difficult to demand anything from a man who has just replaced a small army. Especially if you have nothing to back up your claims. That's why the baron accepted my humorous monologue on the subject of dangerous vegetable gardens instead of an answer.

But then, the next day, when every single inhabitant of the valley in which the Asteriums lived began to regard the massacre as unimportant and unimportant, the patience snapped. At the very least, mind-affecting classes are rightly considered among the most disliked among the common folk. And if that class can fix the memory of so many locals at once, then it's time to sound the alarm.

"What's the big deal, Your Worshipfulness, a couple of dozen freaks came running, and we buried them there. It's no big deal!" Said waving off the strange look of the astonished knight, the same vigilante who yesterday piled seemingly incalculable bodies of huge and powerful mutants swearing and amazed at their number.

"Yes, it's a pity about the men, but it happens, especially since they were caught while they were outside the walls. Bad luck." Yesterday's widow, for whom the villagers seriously feared that she would decide to commit suicide, sighed.

"Oh, there's only a little bit of damage! They broke it more when they were celebrating, fools. We'll have it repaired by the end of the week, Your Majesty!" Commented the pleased mayor, who had argued yesterday that it would take too long to repair the wall and that the settlement needed guards.

In general, the Asteriems, as the only people who had not lost their memories of the present course of events. They remembered how it really was, and they doubted the sanity of their own minds. But after talking to each other, very carefully so as not to be called crazy, and realizing that their memories were identical, they all went together to the dining room, where one modest and very tired Isekai was now hanging out. He even had to resort to his newfound second-breath skill, which was Breath of Magic, because without it my previously spent reserve might not be enough.

I was sitting in the circle of my companions, looking most unhappy, holding to the forehead a bottle of wine purposely swiped from the glacier, glassy and, more importantly, cold. Under my eyes were bags so gorgeous they could carry stolen potatoes, and the overall appearance resembled that of an extremely battered and chronically hungover panda. The migraine was not particularly severe, but quite palpable, preventing me from making sudden movements and giving me a delightful vulnerability to loud noises.

It seemed to me that the Asteriums who had dropped in, unobtrusively adopting a battle formation, though without taking their weapons out of their sheaths, were even somewhat sympathetic, until they remembered the reason for their visit.

"Yes," I grumbled before Holan could make a thunderous accusation that knocked the baron out of his mind a little.

"Yes, what?" He was cautious and a little more cautious when he glanced at Lossius, who was shaking his head judiciously in response to my remarks.

"All yes." I keep trolling involuntarily, but all the fun is ruined by the same dude who won't let me make fun of his family.

"Tin, for Sky's sake, don't start your jokes, especially since you don't have the health for them, and my family doesn't have the patience." He began to convince me, subtly, but not too loudly. "Let's have you explain the situation properly before you start getting beaten up. And rest assured, if a fight breaks out because of your way of pissing people off, I won't help you. Rather, I'll even hold you down."

Such words from the youngest, who does not seem to be a subservient slave of the insidious mentalist, reduced the heat and calmed the aristocrats, who were ready to fight to the death.

"Please explain you and only in a whisper." I sincerely beg indulgence. "My head is about to explode, and anyway, if I explain, I will do it, as you say, in my own way."

Losius imagined the reaction to my explanation, and then decided not to traumatize his family any further and followed my request. Oh, such a noble act, though! A true blue blood!

"So you used a spell of oblivion on my people out of fear for your incognito? What else have you not informed me of? Maybe you have the whole Guardsmen after you now!" In the end, Holan could no longer hold back and began to shout, apparently as an army reflex, translating his confusion and misunderstanding into a battle cry. "I'm anxious to hear your answer..."

He had no time to finish when my seemingly completely exhausted figure rose sharply and jammed two silver table forks to either side of his head, placing a table knife just above the top of his head. A very, you know, motivating request to be quiet. Too bad I didn't have that kind of rhetoric on Earth, or it would have been a lot easier in many cases.

After another heartbeat, I was standing in front of the furious knight, looking him straight in the eye with a calm but very attentive gaze. Just because I understood the reason for his anger and concern didn't make me any less of a jerk who couldn't bear to be rude to him.

"I asked you to be quiet, to begin with, Ser Holan." I speak calmly into his face. "Yes, I did indeed wipe and tweak the memories of the inhabitants of your domain, thus saving myself a great deal of trouble. Before that, it was I, in case you have not forgotten, who saved this very possession from the invasion of the scum while you were rushing into a hopeless battle for your too few troops. And yes, I do fear for my incognito, as does any man forced to flee from past employers into the wilderness, crossing a huge chunk of unexplored land to resurface in a new place and start a new life. I think that after what I have already done for your people, for their lives, I am entitled to such a claim."

Instead of an answer, silence, and with it a frowning, angry look - he was not used to being lectured on. But at the same time, somewhere in the depths of his soul already crept doubt in his rightness, which previously seemed absolute.

I accepted this fight, which was not as easy as it might have seemed, solely for the sake of my friendship with your son. Because of that friendship, among other things, I did not touch your memory, nor did I clean up my actions by more radical methods. Or do you think my judgment is faulty?

This time he is silent in a much more thoughtful way, while simultaneously doing quick, quick breathing exercises so that he doesn't get into a rage again and jump to stupid conclusions.

"They forgot even their own fallen." He almost spat it out, despite his best efforts to be polite.

"They haven't forgotten them, it's just that the pain of their loss seems much longer and more distant." I parry the accusation with my argument. "What joy is there in weeping and grieving for those who died protecting their lives. Instead, I have taken and dulled their pain and suffering, letting them continue their journey in peace. It seems to me that the souls of the fallen will only feel better about this. Their loved ones, whom they were able to protect after all do not grieve but live. That's what they were saved for.

This time he was silent for almost three minutes (I was timing it), not letting go of the hilt of his blade. He was more quiet this time, and even seemed to agree with me, but he didn't lower his blade and was still ready to fight. But Cassia looked away, obviously agreeing with me, and not with her authoritarian father.

"Are you from Sorz?" Holan asked a different question than I was expecting to hear.

"Uh... No." I answered surprised, but sincerely.

"Then I apologize. I was angry, and I said too much. But you, too, Tin, must understand me and my decisions - such discoveries do not add to the peacefulness of anyone. No one likes a braiwashers, if you'll pardon my bluntness."

He was a man, though. He realized that he had made a mistake, accepted my arguments, apologized, but at the same time pointed out to me my own mistakes, which had caused this whole situation. I also liked the local, Alurean word for "brainwasher," which turned out to be surprisingly pithy.

"Nevermind."

"Thanks to Sky!" The voice of Losius, who we all forgot, came from behind us. "I was getting ready to enjoy the spectacle of the fight, but it wasn't so bad, either."

The outraged stares of the four of us toward the insolently grinning aristocrat were surprisingly synchronized. I feel like Tarya and I are a bad influence on him. Somehow I have this feeling, I don't know why.

Explanations and mutual accusations of innuendo between members of the same family lasted into the evening. But Holan, who had calmed down, recognized the younger boy's "grown-up" right to choose the grave in which he would lie. He muttered something resembling "just like his grandfather," which made Losius bloom with happiness. He, on the contrary, looked up to his grandfather, trying to be like him in everything.

This, by the way, is a funny situation. Holan is the son of the diary's author, from whose notes I was able to learn a little more about the main quest. But the previous head of House Asterium was the brother of this brether, who died during the last war with Sorz. The war thinned out the family too much, which is why Sorz is not liked and frankly even hated under this roof. He was raised by his uncle, who was a knight-errant, not a dainty dandy, and who, at least now, understands why Holan is so unlike his father.

I understand the question, too, about my belonging to the Sorz. I don't even know what would have happened if I had followed Soul Mockingbird's wishes and affirmed my affiliation with Melaret's southern neighbors. As if not for the scene from Taras Bulba about "I spawned you, I'll kill you" to Losius. Holan really reeked of a lingering hatred.

Every family has skeletons in their closets that are not pleasant to find. Not because of any immorality, but simply because they are very personal and not for others' eyes. I even almost felt ashamed of my sudden desire to play on the nerves of a veteran of a couple of very significant conflicts, as if I had deliberately kicked a lame man in the sore leg. Yes, he felt very funny, but somehow blackly.

We left the hospitable house after two weeks, during which time I was ready to climb the walls and hide from every dog. First of all, Holan and Nathan wanted to spar with me and were tormenting me about my previous career. They were unobtrusive but constantly, not demanding anything secret, just trivial things.

How am I supposed to tell them that I've been bullshitting them without telling them a word of a lie? Yes, if a person decides to run away from his homeland, straight through the wilderness, he will indeed do everything to keep his past identity a secret once he is in the inhabited territories. That' absolutely right, forgetting to mention that I have nothing to do with such "fugitive high-class professionals" at all.

In general, I had to hide in order not to get caught up in some little thing, or else it would come out stupid. Instead of having fun, I did all sorts of nonsense. Hans, for example, was fully trained in his wisdom hunters and jaegers (kind of troops, not classes) of the vigilantes, at the same time telling stories, in which there was more fiction than the truth. The funny thing was that most of the fiction was aimed at downplaying the awesomeness of our team.

Ygra was quietly eating the forest creatures and infrequent monsters that came out to the valley. When her tracks (more indirect, like missing animals) were noticed by the locals, she had to go into the hills, where she merrily and cheerfully reduced the population of anything and everything. Even met two of her distant relatives, who are hill ogres. Two solitary monsters of rare rank posed no danger to the epic Ygra - level thirty-nine and obscenely high monster characteristics put her far above more primitive congeners.

The first, a rather old and experienced thirtieth level bogeyman, was a real veteran among his own kind. The clairvoyance clearly indicated that this creep had been terrorizing all the nearby settlements overlooking the hills for decades, stealing livestock, individual travelers, and even not-so-well-equipped hunting parties. Not a bad brain, for a member of his species, he easily exploited all his advantages, not staying in one place too long or waiting until they had time to send a full-fledged punitive expedition after him. And no one would dare chase him deep into the hills for long.

Ygra ended his life quickly and ignominiously, simply by snapping his neck while he was sitting in an ambush near some road, waiting for the trio of villagers, a family on a cart, who had almost walked into a trap. They found him, with his head curled up and turned twice around its axis, and his heart and liver torn out. They identified the creature by its recognizable grid of scars. One of the barons with the magic class had once successfully shot a young ogre with a lightning bolt, branding it with a peculiar brand. They didn't have the nerve to attribute the victory to themselves, so several of the Asterium's neighboring possessions were celebrating the death of Jackass (the individual's official nickname) while the more experienced vigilantes and barons scratched their heads and wondered if the creature that killed the bastard could be more dangerous than Jackass himself.

They were right, for that matter.

The second, still very young, died much more fun and (un)pleasant. Only level fifteen, he was barely even three meters tall: just a teenager, too stupid and inexperienced. His fate was to die on the spears of someone else's retinue, but instead, he was caught by Ygra, who approached his murder with much more ingenuity.

Actually, I knew before that Ygra was using her gifted abilities to hunt - no vulgarity, nothing like that had ever occurred to her. She wanted only me, so she regularly increased her own addiction to masturbation, interspersing her hunting with constant caresses of her ring-modified body. But this time, for the first time, she was using his gifted abilities to hunt. That is, not a distraction in the attack, but from beginning to end she used nothing but them.

Showed herself to the "sort of sneaking" hill ogre's eyes as she petted beside the creek and sprinted away. She just kept changing her position so as to make the sneaking ogre freeze and wait. First, he waited for the moment to attack, then the moment to twist her and fuck her (some ogres do this even with human captives, with understandable injuries due to the mismatch in scale), then he just waited, forgetting why he was sneaking. By the time Ygra had finished another session of self-satisfaction, the monster was already sitting in a puddle of its own saliva and other secretions, having lost even its basic instincts, not to mention its thinking ability. And this was despite the fact that he hadn't even had time to touch himself - just at a certain point the tension caused by the sight and the pheromones had become too high, leading to an involuntary discharge.

Ygra only sneezed squeamishly at the pungent smell, then tore the unresponsive ogre's head off and left. I was not even going to tear out his heart and liver-either he was too weak, or the subconscious influence of the ring made any contact with anyone but me repulsive, even if that contact consisted in cutting up the "stained" prey.

In general, I once again sent flaming greetings to the creator of the ring, wishing that he was regularly forced brainwashing without leaving his bed. I also had a sneaking suspicion that somewhere in the depths of Ygra's small brains there was a desire to repeat the recently learned trick with me, only without tearing off my head, but with a different ending.

A light suspicion, like a feather.

Taria spent her gifted time on... training. No, for the first couple of days she was happy to train the maid she liked with very free looks in proper foot licking. But then her conscience kicked in and she went about screwing up Losius's mood with demands to continue training. Apparently, she was too embarrassed to bother me. Although I would have been happy to help her master the daggers. Instead, she continued to learn her class abilities under the keen guidance of the duelist, while simultaneously trolling the poor man.

Judging by the joyful shrieks, she had again managed to increase her class abilities by another marker, which made me irritated and envious, because I had never been promoted, even though I had created a network of dreams for almost two thousand people in the valley. Maybe not in one go, maybe in a segmented and staggered fashion, but damn! Two thousand people! And the work was far more painstaking than the work I'd done in the Slavecatchers camp - there was an almost paranoid need to be gentle and safe because I didn't want to damage the psyche of any of the locals.

However, I successfully pretended that I didn't care about such little things as jealousy of the lucky asshole. I am a Hero. I am above such base feelings as the envy of other people's successes! But who am I kidding?

In my defense, I didn't even think about sending bad dreams to Taria in retaliation for her successes-I wasn't that cuckoo. Instead of torturing Taria, I treated the phobias and long-standing mental traumas of the locals. I even gave one goat a couple of unpleasant nightmares for making bad moves in the direction of his very young stepdaughter. I've had a bad relationship with pedobears since the beginning of my stay at Alurea. With all their forms, if you think of the bear I slaughtered during my wanderings through the goblin forests.

In addition to working with dreams, I was also dealing with the aftermath of my breakdown, which almost resulted in my turning into a Shadow. What can I say? The thoughts, desires, and instincts imposed by the Shadow were still there, but with the appearance of the Price of Humanity they became... No, not weaker, not one bit. More clearly defined, more alien to my original self. It was much easier to separate the superfluous from myself, even if the crisis "dive" into the depths of the Shadow realm, caused by the drastic investment of points, was no longer there.

It's a useful title, I wouldn't argue with that, but I'd rather not stick my ass in the fire than get that kind of perk by going to the brink of losing my mind! But you can't give it up now, can you?

Ordering three clay mask blanks without eyeholes from a local potter was a really weird idea, from the "I have nothing to do" category. But since I really didn't have anything to do, it was time to give my team its own style. Individuality, as they say, is immediately visible.

I checked the new abilities of the second rank of an Alchemist, and at the same time filled the vessel of essence taken from the healing reagents with, you would not believe, essence. I'll have a first aid kit for emergencies, in case I don't have any potions on hand or something. The sensation of clearly knowing that there was a cavity inside you filled with particles of the purest life and renewal was very peculiar. There was no such rejection as in the case of Dream and Shadow, but I had already become accustomed to treat any influence on myself with the maximum suspicion, thanks to the bitter experience would be enough for a couple of lives. I didn't find a catch, which only made me more suspicious.

Suspicion did not prevent me from working with the essence encased in clay, at the same time adding to it the extracted from suitable reagents. In fact, it was closer to artifacting than to alchemy itself, but for a mythical class, I suppose, such a thing was forgivable. If you're going to get really picky about the words, there wasn't even a whiff of artifacting and enchanting here, no. I was simply creating a potion that had a solid aggregate state and a predetermined form of a no longer clay mask. The concentration of the compound helped, and it was relatively easy to combine the necessary effects in the resulting structure.

The masks, like mine, were completely transparent on one side, so no eye slits were needed. They also let in air easily, while also filtering it from possible poisons and dust. I even had to refine my old mask to match the new standard, too, or I'd get jealous.

I also added durability, so that these masks can catch crossbow bolts - it will not save from contusion and possible neck fracture, but the blow itself should not even scratch it - and made the surface very smooth and pleasant to the touch so that it does not chafe. I wanted to add some other properties in addition to durability, but I managed to stop myself in time - the material, which used to be ordinary clay, could not stand the amount of essence put into it anymore, and there was not even a memory of the essence of the native clay. If I add even a little more, I will have a pile of dust instead of fun masks.

Instead, I went to painting and decorating the external effects. The base of each mask was completely white, just like my own, and then there were individual details for each member of my villainous team.

The mask of Taria had two black spots where the eyes were, and streams of that blackness were dripping from them like tears (or mascara, yes). It's pretty creepy even just looking at it, and it should be even cooler after she tries it on. I added a mouth line, with a diverging web of black streams, to complete the image. I think it turned out pretty good.

Hans got a different design that forced me to be quite creative. And to a man who had always gotten a "C" for drawing! However, I was drawing not with my hands but with alchemy, guiding the colors and paints solely by my will and imagination. The result was reminiscent of a network of dark maroon veins through the whiteness of the faceless marble, but it also seemed to be a strange ivy that twisted around the snow-white face.

The piece of armor Losius got was a bit more plain - a simple, pure-white background. Everything would change if this thing came into contact with his sky power. The Chosen One of the Sky himself was not here to conduct the experiment, but the taste and sound of this energy I had time to study quite intimately. It was not easy to find among my herbs and pebbles a few that could contain a bit of the power they absorbed and make them interact with it, but I saw no difficulty in doing so, even if I had to waste all the aforementioned reagents in one go.

The result was ambiguous. If this mask is not deliberately infused with this power, it will remain faceless and unremarkable, and it should not absorb random emanations. But if you pump it with the Sky intentionally, it will flare up brighter than any other light bulb. I'm not sure about its ability to dazzle anyone, but its mystical glow and aura of mystery will be A-plus.

"It was as if the expensive whore's eyeliner was leaking," Taria commented on her gift, earning me and Losius some disapproving looks. "But it looks cool, though, and I'd rather not bump into it at night."

It's cool to her! Not only did she not appreciate my titanic work, but she also stole my own word, linguistic thief, shameless swindler!

"No, it's not bad, but it's ugly." He was also a bit disappointed with my design, Hans, who probably didn't like it, either. "I could just wrap rags around my face, that's all."

"Will the rags filter the poisons out for you, too?" I was supported by Losius, for which I have to thank him separately. "The appearance of the masks, no doubt, inspires an underlying sense of threat, but the quality is excellent. For such an artifact, which even the usual method can be enchanted, if necessary, would have at least a handful of gold coins to pay. And not a child's handful."

"At least your mask is clean, not painted!" She pointed her finger accusingly at the aristocrat's chest, driven by a desire to mock her interlocutor.

"Just shut up!" I commented, and then proudly walked away in a shadow step, preferring to wander around.

At the same time, I could even check on Ygra, who, because of lack of interesting prey, was simply bored alone. At least she wouldn't be picking on my sense of beauty. I didn't even expect such a reaction from myself - I was really hurt by their opinions. You could say I was trolled. I'm burning a little bit. It seems to be a small thing, but considering how much effort I spent on these masks, and just a shitty, because of the foreboding of the coming problems, mood - it was unpleasant and frustrating.

I was greeted by another attempt to take away the kebabs I was cooking and the pheromones that were finally no longer active. The new rank of alchemy allowed me to decompose inhaled substances directly in the blood, and even without any danger of intoxication - the pheromones were surprisingly harmless to health, as were the products of their decomposition. Even the smell was pleasant - a slight tinge of pine and almonds, which I could hardly distinguish without an exaggerated perception. My psychic sense tells me that Ygra can change this smell, and she can also change the composition of the pheromone package, weakening some effects and strengthening others. In hunting, the pheromones disappear from the distinguishable odor spectrum, so as not to interfere and not to reveal the hunter.

I ignored the hints of a further intimacy, as straight as Ygra's own cerebral gyrus, though I was tempted, especially when this bastard began to flaunt her body in a blatant display of beauty and attention-grabbing attraction. Seriously, I almost agreed, if I didn't want to finish the mask issue.

I had to retrieve the emptied and lined bowler, after which I jumped through the shadows back to my room and down to my comrades. Instead of awkward apologies from both sides assuring me of their remorse, I immediately stated my position:

"It's okay, it's just that, as it turns out, my inner artist hates it when his talents are criticized." As if by the way, I said as I sat down at the table. "Tomorrow I'll order new stock and do something less provocative."

"You take it easy, too, Tin." He answered me, and with his other hand, he slapped Taria, who was about to say something. "The masks are good and very good. And they look just right for our line of work, too."

"That's exactly what I was going to say!" The girl who'd been slapped in the face was indignant. "I wasn't going to say anything stupid. Or do you think I'd spit in the heart of anyone who would do anything to set it up?"

Eloquent silence.

Losius is eloquently silent.

Huns is silent a bit less eloquently.

You can hear a fly buzzing under the ceiling that has made its way through the household barrier.

"Oh, fuck you!"

A chorus of laughter, joined by the "offended" herself, was the response to the last phrase. It's nice to have someone to laugh with over a silly joke. Otherwise, why do we have to live at all?

"But the masks are still creepy!" Taria shouted, already on her way upstairs to her room, which made her dodge the apple I'd thrown at her.

I had a hundred and sixty points in the dexterity parameter - you can't dodge it, you bloody bastard! I didn't, but the sound of the crunch of the fruit that followed the offended "ouch!" somewhat dissuaded me of the effectiveness of my insidious and inevitable vengeance.

We set out, escorted by the owners of the manor as if we were going into one last battle before the end of the world. It was Losius who saw us off, but it was very... harmonious, wasn't it? Right, perhaps. Everyone was well aware that no one would be safe along the way, and that there was a good chance of burying another kinsman, but that did not hinder the solemnity of the moment.

In this world, everyone knows that death may be waiting around the nearest corner, which is why the attitude to such departures is very peculiar. I would not say that the locals are not afraid of death, but rather they are aware of its proximity, so they try to live one day and take as much as possible from each meeting.

I couldn't know for sure if our adventures would be bad for Losius and his family. He might have spoken to his family about it in a vague and unspecific way, but it might be that he had no place to go back to. Would I be able to do the same, knowing I had something to lose? I'm not sure. And, to be as frank as possible, I'm glad I don't have a weak spot in this world yet.

The road was so boring and dull that it wasn't even funny. If it weren't for the regular nerve-wracking with the horse that wouldn't stop wanting to ruin my life, I would have been bored. But it was quite cheerful, especially when you consider the little fact that I did not cancel training, why my teammates quickly learned to express with one heavy sigh all the sorrow of the world. The mode was still the same - a day for the real world, another day for training in dreams, then a day of rest, and then back in a circle. The movement slowed and stalled, but the skills grew rather quickly, too.

To be honest, only Hans and Taria were swinging normally in their dreams, because their skills weren't high enough yet. I was still not able to get another free skill point, but I tried very hard to do it, which resulted in a sharp increase in skills and an increase in magical characteristics.

Losius continued to learn how to counter the Inferior Shadows with Sky Energy, slowly adapting to their tactics. He was now able to withstand combat against five of the creatures at once, winning most of them. But against six, he gave up - as the Shadows gained a sufficient numerical advantage, they changed their usual tactics, attacking at once in cramped groups. Then I had to play the lottery - whether Losius would have time to scorch them all with a Sky Light, or whether I would have to stop the Shadows at the very last moment. With the new rank taken, and the closed skill the control of shadows was much easier to order these creatures around in a way that made them obey. If before they were simply terrified of me, now it was almost a holy terror of unstoppable power.

A very, you know, unpleasant feeling.

Hans was pumping up his new class quite successfully - the synergy between the two classes worked. He was even able to pump the pathfinding, which caused the pathfinder to smile so contentedly that Taria served him a lemon for dinner (or rather, its local counterpart, but even the appearance was similar). If you think it embarrassed him, don't think so again - it made him smile even happier.

According to Hans, this skill allowed him to take what he called a "path," a route that allowed him to walk faster than what seemed possible in terms of normal metric space. With a grunt of exertion, he even managed to demonstrate his new skill to us all.

He couldn't drag someone else along this route, but he could take one short step, thus transporting himself to the opposite end of the wide clearing. Then I had to pour healing potions into him, swearing profusely, and at the same time, I had to transfer some of the effects of the sudden overload to myself through the stolen shadow (and then I had to drink potions as well).

Hans received a set of humiliating slaps from all of us at once, and an insistent plea not to show off if you don't know the consequences. At least, not until he'd completely closed the skill. Still, he impressed me! That step he took on the path was not at all like the standard warrior blink or my Steps. There was no connection to other plans at all! He just managed to convince the world that there was exactly one step between two points, not several hundred. I suppose if the road followed a longer path, it would be a shortcut rather than an instant transfer, but getting a full spatial technique at first rank and second skill point is a very cool way to go.

And he had to devour the lemon completely and without a snack - under our watchful eyes.

The Summoning of the Shadows was a real ballast around my neck that could have been used more appropriately, but I physically couldn't bring myself to use it. Even the minor Shadows made me irritated and afraid, despite all the differences in power between us. I didn't want to think about how the confrontation with the Supreme Being of this realm would end.

But I had to. Better under controlled conditions than in combat and without testing. It is enough to remember how such a gamble with the use of untested abilities in combat almost ended just recently.

We moved two kilometers deep into the woods, to make sure we didn't hit anyone who happened to be passing by. I briefed my allies long and tediously about the possible dangers, getting even Taria to be serious and wary. I found a nice, wide clearing, full of meadow flowers and pastoral in general.

And started.

I didn't summon the Inferior ones, because I knew enough about them not to waste time repeating it. I started with the Weak Shadows, realizing that I'd seen them once before. They were the same gluttonous Shadows that had helped me in the battle with the orcs who had attacked the caravan in which I was traveling from the Kraj.

Compared to the Inferiors, they were indeed stronger, faster, had sharper instincts, and several unpleasant abilities. First, they could become partially material, which only increased their damage, because they not only enveloped themselves but also pierced and absorbed into their bodies. Second, they could pass into Shadow in chunks, partially manifesting and partially disappearing.

They looked different, but most often they looked like long snakes or worms, a shape that helped them make the most of their partial materialization and transition into Shadow. By the time you distracted yourself with one visible segment of their body, the others would have already wrapped around you. But there were other forms-all sorts of flat mantas or capes, clouds, and even something suspiciously resembling a swarm of midges. The last one was the strongest and most dangerous, which made me immediately send it back to The Shadow. I'm sure it could have tried to break the barrier between the real world and the Shadow even without my help. Especially if I had bluntly left it so close to that invisible boundary.

A full-fledged shadow was quite different, an entirely different level of threat and danger. I'm not sure if Losius could have fought this thing one-on-one. Well, not really - he would have won, for sure, if he'd known there was such a thing around. This shadow, which looked like an amorphous ball of limbs and tentacles, possessed a prodigious rate of stealth, the ability to move quickly through Shadow and fall back out into reality, the ability to turn its limbs into all sorts of blades and lashes like my tricks, and a limited ability to control shadows in the real world. That is, all sorts of spitting with shadow blades and shadowy lashes were very much within her reach. Add standard immateriality and poor vulnerability even to magical attacks, and you can understand my feelings - this is quite a dangerous unit, capable of devouring an entire squad by itself.

It was also sapient No, it couldn't talk, but it could communicate with a stream of images and desires. And it sensed the people behind me, so it raged a thousand times, demanding their lives and souls. I had to remind that lump of spaghetti several times in a row who was the lord and who was the fucking summons. It took a while to calm the thing down, and it was hard to send it back because it didn't want to leave without a last meal. I had to threaten total annihilation, after which the creature's appetite abruptly diminished to a morsel of my energy and a mighty kick deeper into the home world. The latter infuriated the creature most of all - it was going to use the power I had given it to stay grounded and push itself back into reality.

Before I used the next stage of the summoning, I repeated the previous one, and for good reason. The second fully-fledged Shadow was a barely discernible "sheet" of pure darkness, possessing very different abilities. This little beast could hide in another's shadow, listening and transmitting information to me, could override the shadow bearer, pulling its strings like a puppet, and even limited its bearer's attacks with a shadow infusion. It felt weaker than the previous creature, but just a little.

To be honest, I don't quite understand how exactly I parsed and analyzed the images that were sent to me, but it worked. Naturally, the creature's abilities were not only in the name, but rather the opposite. The above-mentioned techniques were a consequence of the way it applied its favorite hunting methods in the real world. A sort of cross between a parasite and an ambush predator, with a nasty temperament. If the previous creep just wanted to eat, this one liked to torture its food by playing with it. And it was just as demanding of the lives and souls of those around it. A couple of kicks and threats drove the scum back in, preventing it from gaining a foothold.

Already expecting something similar, I summoned a third full-fledged Shadow, again getting a new result. It looked like a typical monster - a predatory and flexible body reminiscent of a cross between a wolf, a leopard, and a cockroach, a primitive and vicious mind, and unbearable hunger. The creature possessed only the standard cloaking, intangibility, and shadow-jumping, as well as the same partial materialization. The only thing was that his flesh was much tougher and stronger, making his attacks more physical than energetic. And speed, punching power, and real-world experience - this particular Shadow had already been summoned for combat, even if it had been a long time ago. For a change, it left almost unopposed, though it gave my companions a hungry look, confining itself to the energy it received.

The fourth client resembled a standard cloud, like a very large inferior Shadow. The abilities were about the same - to spread out, wrap itself around, and consume everything it could. There was enough difference, too: it would be very hard to beat this thing because it was not vulnerable to magic or damage. The idea was that to win, you would have to pour magical and very hot flames all over the clearing to scorch the nastiness to the end. The intelligence was almost nil - other weak Shadows seemed much smarter to me.

I decided to bring the number of experiments up to five by summoning another creature, which turned out to be a football-sized black ball hanging in the air. I even looked around for the guys in the tight suits, but no, it was just an impression. The creature could control shadows at a very impressive level - barriers, whips, nets, veils, ribbons, spears, all in an assortment. Pretty dangerous stuff, but nothing more - sent back where it came from with a soccer kick.

A fifth of the reserve is wasted, and my general well-being has not deteriorated. The regular interactions with the Shadows are somewhat disruptive, even though I know they're not dangerous. The companions behind me aren't feeling much better, because they can sense the threat and anger aimed at them, which makes them nervous. Losius had a couple of close calls, pouring sky blue all over the place.

"Perhaps I will not call on the Higher ones today." To summarize. "I'll confine myself to a couple of the Elders, and then Losius will flood the place with his power, and we'll go to sleep."

I didn't seem to reassure them much, especially by noting that the creatures we'd seen earlier weren't even High Ones. But no one argued, they just took a couple of steps back, to make sure they didn't accidentally get hit by something nasty. My guts, for example.

If there was a chasm between the weak and the fully-fledged Shadow, there was a bloody oceanic abyss between the fully-fledged and the Elder Shadow. For one thing, you had to call from far, far away. The full-fledged Shadows did not come to reality from the upper layers through which the steps passed, but from deeper areas, like the one where I had thrown the Cult Master out of the Kraj. Maybe a little shallower, I'm not sure.

The Elder Shadow had to be called from the Deep. And the Deep did not look well at the call I'd made. I was sure that if I called too loudly, too insistently, too wrongly, it might not be exactly what I had originally expected. Fortunately, the closed skill made it possible, among other things, to understand such pitfalls and not to make mistakes... like when I pumped myself.

The Shadow appeared at my call and immediately tried to challenge my control. I could feel its disdain and lust against my will, to throw it away and claw at our sweet souls. This thing had been in reality more than once, too, not only through summoning, but on its own, and it had killed naïve summoners more than once.

I was swept up.

It wasn't even her intentions - as if the other Shadows didn't have such desires - but this very contempt. If the fear the Shadows felt for me was annoying and abominable, the contempt emanating from this specimen literally drove me into a wild, primal, and poorly controlled frenzy.

In one go, I put about a fifth of my reserve into the call probe that bound the two of us together, and then sharply tightened the resulting noose. I press with all my strength, anger, and awareness of my right to command it, to order this miserable scum, expecting unconditional compliance, because that's the way it should be.

Shadow surged as if struck by a thousand whips, trying to reach me with its claws and hands, squealing with a good dozen mouths and growling with as many more. I note with the edge of my consciousness that I was once again "lucky" and this particular creature is standing at the very edge of the High, literally within a couple of tiny steps. It is quite possible that even our souls would have been enough for it to take that last step.

It looks like several dozen human silhouettes, stitched together in random order, then joined to the resulting sculpture a multitude of clawed paws, spiky tentacles, and toothy mouths in every possible and impossible position, then melted down a bit, like a wax sculpture, until it melted down around the edges. An unforgettable sight, for once you see it, you will surely remember it all your life, if you survive it.

The creature had a mind, albeit very fragmentary and alien, so alien that attempts to communicate caused only one headache on both sides. The impression was that this creature was the result of the fusion of several shadows of the same type together, which resulted in this "multiplication of personalities.

A little more reserve was invested, and the rage was replaced by pain and resigned hatred, as if to say, "Just give me a chance. It told me directly that, for now, I still had the right to order her around, but only yet.

If I'd begun to calm down, I was furious again - just as silently beating and beating the creature, not demanding anything from it, not asking for anything, not offering or promising anything, as the others who had summoned it had done. Maybe someone else's class was honed in on a pact, a request, or even a plea to the Shadows, but certainly not mine. The very essence of my abilities was the inalienable right to command and punish for disobedience, which it had not yet met.

I only stopped when a third of my reserve was left, and the Shadow I had summoned was barely able to stay real, and that was sole because the loop of my call kept it there, keeping it from escaping my blows. Behind me, a soft but menacing glow came from Losius, who had been too hurt by the creature's thrusts, whose blows had stopped within a few fingers of my face. That light irritates the creature and makes it hate me, but at this moment in time, the creature is afraid to even think in the direction of those standing beside me.

You can't talk to Shadows.

Simply because they cannot perceive speech, any speech, as a concept itself. Their communication is through the transmission of their intentions, and the images that contain them. And now I am literally hammering my decisions into the brain of the summoned creature, which it is forced to make if it does not want another round of pain, another torment if it does not want to stop existing.

Someday.

I will call this creature.

And then.

It will come at my call to execute my will.

I cast the last third of my reserve into the call that binds us, immediately replenishing it with a Breath of Magic. My energy burns my heart with icy claws, and I use my Grip to thrust my clawed hand straight into the center of the horrified Shadow's shriveled body. My claws pierce through it, reaching to the very depths of its essence, literally carving into its flesh the commitment it has made. It can try to challenge the imposed contract while it still can, but to do so it must stand up to me once more. And with the whining angry howl of hundreds of jackal throats, it accepts the arrangement.

I wanted, purely and sincerely, to kick the thing back where it came from, but then the weakened and exhausted creature would most likely be devoured by its kin, so I put a little more than half my reserve back into it, allowing it to recover its strength and heal the painful wounds it had inflicted with the noose.

The pile of darkness lying on the ground soars upward, facing me. I am within its attack zone. It can attack me. It can. But it doesn't dare, pulling back instead. A silent and frantic hiss, like a huge tire deflating, was all the creature allowed itself before it dived into a pool of its black blood, leaving reality.

In the place of the picturesque clearing is a frost-covered wasteland, where even the nearest trees look twisted and barely alive. In the Gaze, I can see that the edge will be especially thin in this place, and where there was a place of summoning I can now see a dip as if a well of some kind - a natural descent into the deep layers. Not very deep, but much farther than the steps would allow. I even wanted to go down myself, in spite of the half-empty reserve and fatigue.

I turn to my comrades, who are slowly recovering from what they have experienced, and then give a soft order, taking advantage of my position as leader of the squad.

"That's all for today. And let's get back to our horses and get out of here. I don't like this place anymore."

Folks look at the new view of the place and silently agree with my arguments, and in general - not much we needed this break, and to go a little more will not be difficult.

Delayed only to let Losius pour the light of the Sky over the place until the breach to the depths shriveled up and disintegrated. Judging by the sluggish expression of joy, the nobleman got some kind of bounty for the job, but not much.

On the way back Hans, carrying our fighter against evil, as the healthiest and not tired, told some Jaeger joke, after which the silence was broken our friendly laughter - the joke was stupid and flat, but withdrawal is such a thing that covers even the Heroes.

There were still about two weeks of leisurely travel left to Wightwater. Or one week of hurried travel. And I vowed that I would try to make a few more contracts before I went into the lair of my enemy. Just in case, just in case, and from the urge to hoard.

The Pact was felt with a faint chill in my chest, through which I could feel the barely perceptible leash of the noose thrown over the creature. Through this leash, I could feel the full force and borrowed power (half the Shadow Lord's reserve, no joke, even if you were an Elder Shadow) tearing at all its congeners in a fit of rage.

I knew that this pact would eat away at some of my reserve recovery rates, even if it wasn't very noticeable. I was also vaguely aware that the more of these deals I had, the more my heart would get cold. It seemed that if I didn't overdo it, it should be quite bearable, but I didn't want to check it out.

But I have to.

At least because I will not risk sticking my nose into the supposed lair of the enemy, leaving behind such a trump card. So at least a couple of contracts must be secured, even if it requires a lot of power. It is not necessary to call someone as strong, weaker summons will suffice, as long as they are varied and dangerous. And I could break that thread at any time unless I was under some obligation to the Shadow I had made a pact with. And I had the added benefit of a new title that would make negotiating with potential workers a lot easier.

Right to Authority: The Shadow Dwellers are very dangerous and few will risk summoning them. Even fewer will be willing to make a treaty with them. But you were among those who not only made this pact but who managed to impose their rules while staying alive and healthy. One cannot call such a risk clever, but one cannot consider it useless either. We'll leave the choice of point of view to your conscience, and instead of empty words, we'll give you your deserved reward. Bonus: the Shadow dwellers feel more fear in your presence, and the contracting process is simplified; +5 to Shadow's characteristic.

Not the worst outcome of the evening, is it?

Authors note:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1xkkMG02VOjjAplSRYvumI2gcPj6qHAzV/view?usp=sharing - Mask of Taria, approximate appearance + facelessness.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1S9XPL6yw79Hxq8lOe1t6NwVTIpt8hnzs/view?usp=sharing - And this is what Hans's mask looked like. Well, and facelessness.

There were some crits. Ygra got a smartness crit in terms of applying her abilities to the MC. It's a bit late, because with his current resistance it's not even funny. But if a little earlier, it would have been another fun title for the MC.

Hans got a skill-pumping crit, albeit with bonuses.

Taria got 98, but that was enough.

Very unfortunate call of the Elder Shadow - came out almost the Highest (6 on dice), but the MC coped with it without much trouble, getting the title. Again, it's too late - but if he'd gotten in before the rapid pumping and with the skill still unclosed...

It fell the family's bad reaction to working with their subjects' memories - it almost came to a fight. Saved by the intervention of Losius and a sudden attack of sociability of MC.

But they parted amicably, but there is already a weak point. I don't even know how their fate will turn out with such adventures.

It didn't work out to improve Dreams at work with dreams - the MC didn't do anything beyond what he already knows how to do. It was just more work, but that's all.

That's it.

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/523871

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP