Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 14

Chapter 14

You know, these guys are fucked up, so fucked up that they make even the inhabitants of survivalist forums seem not paranoid at all, but world-loving, hippie pink pony country types. Three layers of protection on Dream's side is enough armor to stop and promptly wipe out almost any threat unless you count the owners of the pumped-up dreamwalkers classes of legendary or higher grades, of which there are very few. I, for example, have never encountered a dreamwalker, or a creature similar to one, except in my own reflection.

They weren't satisfied anyway, adding a fourth layer of protection, located almost in the real world. Apparently, it was a backup safeguard, unrelated to the first three defenses, just to be on the safe side. Just a few hundred amulets hung around the barracks and rooms, designed to give a peaceful sleep to all the inhabitants of this structure. I can't even be sure that it's protection against dreamwalkers - it's just as likely that the amulets could be a barrier against all sorts of nasty things that the Mist might inflict.

More importantly, I had to wiggle my ass again in an attempt to find the key to these doors as well. And without the owners of that door noticing it. The amulets were not very strong, and it was as easy to burn them as it would be to crush a puddle of ice with a boot. Getting through them unnoticed was a different order of business, though not as difficult. In fact, it was harder and more dangerous to work in Dream, and I was just a little tired of all the crap.

Methodically and carefully, I created peculiar bridges, transforming amulets... into more complex and better amulets. I could guarantee that the nightmares of the sleepers would be really less, simply because the trinkets I had strengthened would not let anyone but myself into their dreams. The first reflash took about three hours, and I even had to go back to reality to get something to eat and relieve a migraine - I hadn't yet fully recovered from weaving my first nightmare. The second amulet was finished in an hour, and the fifth and subsequent ones took at most ten minutes to manipulate.

I fully appreciate the danger of Dream just now, when I realize the scale of what's happening. There are so many defenses in this fortress that there's no room for spit, but no field can help the inhabitants against an attack from Dream. No, a direct attack with madness or an attempt to drag some creature into reality (though I'm not sure if I could pull such an attack) would be met quite skillfully. The countermeasures might not be specialized at all, but they could burn out my attacks with the power they put into them. But during sleep, when the sleepers come under my full control, there's practically nothing that can help them.

I hadn't given it much thought before, but from what I've seen so far, there are very few people who work with this Realm, far fewer even who draw their power from the Shadow. Dreamwalkers, unless they have a mythical, or at least a legendary, class, are too weak in direct combat and of little use in anything other than espionage, and for that the clairvoyants and seers are better suited. Dreamwalkers are weak, and therefore there is little defense against the strong dreamwalkers. What I met and overcame recently was certainly a very serious obstacle, but if it could not stop me even in the initial stages of the second rank, then I have bad news for those in power. Because if that was the best means available to them, I can only laugh at their efforts.

I tried to shake off my arrogance, reminding myself that every trickster has a countermeasure, and locals who have accumulated all kinds of stuff should have a warehouse full of it, and a lot of it in their closets. It's easy to be proud, but it's hard to survive a fall because your nose is turned up, especially if no one will let you stand up. That's why it's an axiom that I was just very lucky, and in other places, the protection would be much tougher and more powerful.

And so the work went on, gradually rewriting the entire fortress defense in my name from the side of Dream giving me a normal passage into reality. It was like a raid on the territory, evicting the previous occupants. It wasn't that reassigning every single amulet was an impossible task, but it required at least a couple of days of continuous work on that front alone, so I decided not to venture into something like that. I'll finish this later, but right now I need the information I came here for.

After I had crushed the defenses of a particular sector of the fortress, opening that section of reality completely to my influence, I began to search for the sleepers to search through their skulls. The hour was nighttime, not even predawn, so I hoped to find a victim quickly enough, but I realized just as quickly that the loser its fate. All the while I was opening a sector of the fortress responsible for some food stores, which is undoubtedly a very important area, but of those sleeping there were only a couple of fat and overfed rats, from whom you would not ask anything but the location of their stash of cheese

Naturally, there were also a few men on duty, whose boredom I could sense even from Dream, but the problem was that they were awake. I could, if pressed, induce drowsiness and put the guys to sleep (I managed to figure out their gender, too), but this might raise unnecessary suspicions, especially if those put to sleep turned out to be as ace as the venerable Rangers, who had long outgrown the level of professionalism when you could sleep on duty, no matter how boring it was.

I had to retreat to Dream with swearing and anger and start working on the other side of the fortress. In the same way, gradually rewrite the defense and take control of it. It went faster because of the skill and motivating frenzy I had built up, so I made it through before dawn. It would have been a shame if by the time the work was done all the inhabitants of the fortress had already woken up. But not so offensive as to realize such an unpleasant fact of repeated failure! There were no rats, let alone living people, in the rooms I discovered, which automatically suggested some kind of warehouse or arsenal.

Realizing that I had no time for today, I decided to come out into reality, and whisper to fate and the admins what I think of them. I wish three weeks of continuous diarrhea to those bastards who planned the architecture of this structure, while also questioning their sexual preferences and assuring the universe that my person had the honor to take their esteemed mothers to the theater. When I cooled down a bit, I changed my position, carefully erasing all traces of my presence at the previously occupied point, and then I crossed the Shadow to a new site, free of traps and also long since unchecked.

By the way, only now have I noticed that the transition to the Shadow is somewhat more difficult than in the real world. If it weren't for my current level, I would have noticed it much earlier, because it would have been dangerous, but now... Well, if in the real world trying to step into a Shadowstep for me is comparable to picking up a couple of cherry pips on my outstretched hand, now there are a dozen of these pips. It seems like a lot more, but considering their total weight, the difference can be considered insignificant. If such an anomaly should have slowed all lovers of other Realms, except those who are connected to the Mist, then I simply did not notice it - how to hold with a web or, say, a layer of fragile glass, the falling weight. It will still break through, no matter what.

In the Gaze, it was as if a section of Shadow had been carved out with reality itself, but there was no Shadow outside the islet floating in the Mists. While I was sure I could get to the depths and then swim out of the fold, I had my doubts about doing so in the Mists themselves. All the more reason not to stick my ass in there, lest they bite it and rip out a piece of commissioner's meat.

In my new position, I went to sleep and sent a short message to all my comrades-in-arms. It wasn't very easy to do, because of the Mist, which was clogging up my communication, but I managed it. I did not collect a general dream, or else I would be beaten again, just passed the collected information and informed them that I needed to stay a little longer. Wait for me and all that, for I shall return either with a victory or with a tail of very angry pursuers.

And now sleep.

I woke up a couple of times at night, with faintly flaring anxious feelings. Once I even had to activate the Aegis, going into maximum concealment, when a very powerful wave of scanning magic based on the energies of life and air passed through the entire pocket dimension. To be honest, it would have been worth stepping into Shadow, but I didn't risk doing so under the multiplied pressure of enemy clairvoyance, literally probing the probabilities in the immediate vicinity.

Did I alarm someone?

Or just a routine checkup?

Judging by the fact that no alarm was raised, and no one thought to start checking the immediate surroundings, it is closer to the second, although I would not rule out the first either. I still don't know what classes and skills the local prophet have in his arsenal. Maybe he could sense something that wasn't clear-cut but dangerous otherwise, the reaction would have been much more obvious. Sort of the usual bad feeling, without explicitly identifying the threat or the direction of its arrival.

Anyway, I just had to sit around all day, lying down, changing positions, playing imaginary chess with myself, and doing a dozen other kinds of useless shit. I would have gladly let my contract Shadow, who was a scout, off the chain, but there was too much risk. I was in no danger of going near the fortress without a preliminary reconnaissance, and The Shadow might get in somewhere and make a fuss afterward. I had to browse through the heads of at least the rank and file of the local garrison before I could get down to business. Although I have already had a chance to think of possible ways to penetrate through the defense, I do not want to risk without reason - here I just do not need to hurry, and therefore waiting and gradually taking the bridgehead for further action is much preferable. Especially if the possibility of occupying this bridgehead does not require any attraction of attention to their actions.

I would have gone to the woods at the edge of the world, for there are no alarms, but I'm too nervous about the wall of snow-white fog rising toward the milky-white cloud dome that covers this entire domain. Fuck him, and I know too many bad things about other Realms to risk the little things. There's no particular threat of detection now that I've explored the area and got used to the possible dangers, but the threat of being eaten by some fucktard if I get too close to the edge of the fold remains invariably high.

You have to be simpler, Kostik, simpler.

I had finished reassigning more than half of the amulets that protected them against my fellow dreamwalkers, and so I looked to the future with a slight glimmer of optimism and hope for the best. And at first, this mood even seemed reasonable - several sectors open to my will were barracks and dormitories, where the inhabitants were now sleeping and sinking into sleep. It was their dreams that I decided to deal with from the start. Yes, a simple soldier sleeping in a barracks wouldn't know much, but no one would protect him, unlike his father's commanders.

The first pancake was a bit of a mess because the guy had been dreaming about the love he had left at home, the return to which he had been looking forward to for five long years of service. And before that, he had served in the ranks of the baron's retinue, where he had taken his initial levels, while in relative proximity to his love. The story is sublime, kind, and pure, as a love story should be. But his dreams were dirty and filthy, which, again, didn't give me any particular qualms. If it weren't for one small thing - the love of this veteran soldier was, how should I put it mildly, male.

I show heroic tolerance and patience by refraining from sending the sleeper a more fanciful nightmare, after which I decide to change the recipient. Because I'm not that tolerant after all, yeah. Fucking hell! Twenty-first level (albeit with a regular class), a huge amount of experience, several (semi-)military campaigns on the border, off-the-charts brutality, and he is, bitch, faggot! Combat f*cking faggot!

The second fighter dreamed of soft and tender pig's feet. It wasn't because pigs were a fucked-up theme, but because this guy was always hungry and hungry beyond belief. Whether it was his class or the effect of the title of Gluttony, which increased his stamina by five, but increased the amount of food needed for satiety, this fatty always wanted to eat. And yes, he really was fat. It didn't make anyone laugh, though - for all his weight, the bastard was very fast and extremely technical with his ax and poleaxe. Also the twenty-first level, but the class is already unusual, almost rare, and a couple of unpleasant titles for the opponent has, because of what he was easily pulled at the twenty-fourth, especially if satiated. The commander of his five, assistant tens (corporal, or whatever their name?), an experienced fighter with an implacable temper and a habit to beat in the face, regardless of rank, if he or his people began to oppress. That's why he was transferred here - his character was too unpleasant for arrogant commanders.

The place had no name of its own, at least not one that would be communicated to ordinary soldiers, even though "ordinary" here was considered to be at least level twenty. However, the servicemen had been pretty quick to come up with a name for the place that passed from mouth to mouth among all those who served the Crown in the place.

The Pit.

The fortress was so called not only because the place itself was a hole in reality, but also for the most prosaic reason. It was where they sent those soldiers who had done something wrong or who didn't please their superiors. No, though. Here I, like Marcise, whose dream I'm watching now, have overdone it. Some of the men who are sent here are also those who were displeasing to their superiors, or who have committed some misdeed for which a normal soldier would simply be hanged on the nearest tree or sent to the mines. But there were plenty of regular units, like the Rangers, who were assigned separately through the Crown Office.

In all, the garrison numbered about a hundred and eighty men, of whom only a little less than a hundred and fifty were warriors. The rest of the inhabitants were either shady people in plain clothes or equally shady magicians of unknown orientation. About the latter, it would be better to ask the magicians of the army, who hung out with unknown people. Marcise himself supposed that they were busy keeping the spells cast on the fortress and the area in order and some research of their own. Though, of course, there were other rumors about the place, even the craziest.

That this place is the last refuge of the Royal Family in case of a takeover of the country or a super-scale demonic breakthrough, where the rulers will have to wait out the threat and start ruling from these walls.

That here lies sealed ancient evil, or even Ancient Evil, and they are all but the first barrier to its awakening meant not just to delay the enemy with their deaths, but to feed them with their flesh.

There were even those who thought that it was the men who were in this place who were preparing a rebellion against the King, saving their strength and preparing to strike a treacherous blow and that they were a collection of discontented men who had been wronged by the Crown in some way. A dozen rounds in the latrines issued to the author of this theory, however, slightly dissuaded all those who believed in it.

The point remained the same - they were here for some reason, sitting around in barracks and training on the parade ground, but doing absolutely nothing useful. If it were not for the rare, but nevertheless regular, rotation of personnel that takes place every three years, then all of them would have gone crazy a long time ago, having moved completely from banal boredom. Fortunately, the local commanders were excellent at the tactic of "boring a soldier to the point where he no longer wanted anything," so there was no time for foolishness. Marcise himself even liked the service, if only they fed him more nourishingly. No, he was given a larger portion to take into account his class and titles, but he needed much more than that to be fully satiated.

The discipline here was ironclad, maintained not so much by beatings, but by the commanding skills and general professionalism of those assembled here. It was the hysterical youngsters who could suffer from hazing and cockfighting, but the veterans, who had reached such levels, were perfectly capable of establishing a dialogue and restraining the impulses of the soul. It's like that joke, "Don't think you're the smartest, everyone here is a Jew". Here too, everyone was a dangerous fighter, capable of show a light to an overly rude and uncultured interlocutor.

He knew nothing about the purpose of this place, nothing at all, really nothing at all. Nor did he know anything about the systems of magical protection, except for the obligatory little things like constantly dragging around his amulet and a total ban on visiting certain parts of the fortress. From his memory, I also managed to learn an approximate layout of the rooms, but no more than approximate - in many places ordinary fighters simply were not allowed.

When you think about it, serving in that place was more like imprisonment than a normal life - the extremely limited space, the constant surveillance and control, the lack of opportunities to relieve stress, and the constant harsh drudgery would drive anyone to rabid despair.

Okay, I'm not going to find anything else here.

Further excursions through other people's dreams yielded roughly the same result. I was right in my assumption that the people living in the barracks would not know much. Some could tell me about a couple of locked rooms and corridors into which they had once managed to catch a glimpse; others served as informers in the lists of local interrogators from the secret guard, and still, others knew where and from whom to buy some wine stolen from the grocery stores. All sorts of little things of no practical use to me.

I had to finish with the soldiers, and then shift my attention to the more secure dormitories, where the officers, the Special Forces, and the mysterious wizards of unknown purpose lived in their rooms. That was a much sweeter prize to take if I wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on without too much trouble.

And of course, things couldn't go according to plan!

I don't know how I should respond to this shit anymore, but they went on an extra binge of paranoia here, too. They had individual amulets of incomprehensible nature that were doing something to Dream, preventing me from properly tapping into the dreams of these comrades. At first, I thought that all my previous thoughts about the rarity and inevitability of dreamers were wrong, but then it occurred to me that these amulets did not work only with Dream. In fact, this amulet was directly infused by the fortress, creating a powerful barrier of pure energy that cut off most realms except for the Mist itself.

It is possible to overcome such a barrier, and even not very difficult, just to be a really strong dream walker, who can push through such protection with his will, without causing a reaction of the amulet itself, such as heating or other external manifestations. It's another painful and unhurried activity, and I'm about to run out of food, after which I don't even know what I should do. Should I go fishing? There seem to be all sorts of fish floating by, possibly edible ones.

In the official documents of Melareth, this place was referred to by the impersonal name "The Stone", passing under a very significant stamp of secrecy. It's not that no one knew about this place at all, but the halo of secrecy here was still very significant. They tried to keep out those who hadn't passed the loyalty test, especially for positions higher than that of an ordinary soldier. Even the "untrustworthy" were recruited whose loyalties were beyond doubt. And, for that matter, most of the "untrustworthy" were put there because of conflict with the aristocracy and commanders, not because of the displeasure of the servants of the Crown. So it turned out that such imprisonment was perceived not as exile, but as a way to lay low for a couple of years and escape the wrath of the other vengeful piece of shit.

Mysterious wizards, on the other hand, were of two kinds: specialists in magical protection, who really kept all the barriers and traps updated and regularly checked, and support wizards, whose purpose was to ensure the stability of the already prepared magical constructions and rituals. The key word here is "rituals," yes. I can, of course, assume that they are engaged in exactly the same thing as the barrier mages, the only difference is that they make sure that the defenses are stable rather than updated.

But something tells me that their main task is to guard and control something that was created and assembled a long time ago, but about which they prefer not to disclose. It is enough just to remember that the rooms of these peppers were better protected than any other premises I have met. That is why I have not yet risked getting near them, even while in Dream. How could I not be suspicious?

Separately, it is worth noting the presence of three extremely high-level specialists who held command positions in the fortress, commanding all the assembled forces here at once.

Lyroy Atkins, level forty-seven: is the head over all warriors in the Stone, i.e. common fighters, rangers, and several links of elite specialists of various kinds. A rare and epic class and the second is not exactly a fighting type. None of the inquirers knew the exact name, but it is known that this class is aimed at commanding and maintaining discipline in the entrusted army units, as well as strengthening soldiers during battles.

He was a big bulky guy, about two and a half meters tall, bald as a cue ball, and never seemed to take off his monstrous armor, which must have weighed more than a ton. Neither the Inner Security, nor the mages, nor anyone else dared to anger him. He could gently take those who were too insolent by the throat, hang them on one arm from the window at the top of the fortress office, and ask them politely to tone it down. Meanwhile, his subordinates were ready to carry their commander in their arms, even if he would not take off his armor. A picturesque man, picturesque as it is.

Gamel At'Orovai, level forty-five: chief over all mages and other sorcerers, on whose conscience hangs all barriers and traps within the outer and inner perimeters. A Barrier Mage of rare grades and a certain Locker of epic grades, with the shit he creates claiming that this epic is much closer to legendary than it might at first glance seem. He is harsh, brutal, taciturn, unspoken, single, and generally stays away until he asks.

He looked like an ordinary middle-aged man with a slightly tired and pale face of an office clerk. By local standards, however, such pallor and refinement is a sign of a certain aristocracy. Together with the family name of a family of major landowners, also engaged in maritime and general trade, there was no doubt in his nobility. He possessed an amazing for a noble indifference to luxury, preferring the peace and quiet of a few rauts (read, booze), which sometimes allowed themselves the local commanders. However, this did not prevent him from having a mistress of local fighters.

The mistress herself, the Golem Guider and Benefik, was well aware that she had nothing to gain, and used the nobleman solely as access to unlimited hot water and a good bath. And she did not hide it at all, neither from her boyfriend, nor from the special officers who neatly came up to spy for the sake of the Crown.

Speaking of golems! There were quite a few of them, almost a hundred. Among them were both relatively weak (in my view) models, at most reckoned for a rare level thirtieth monster, and three steel colossi, capable of single-handedly to take apart the same Whitewater stone by stone, if the battery did not run out sooner. No, it could be that they have a contract spirit or a self-fulfilling artifact instead of the standard battery on magic crystals, but none of the interrogators knew about that, simply by virtue of the fact that nobody had even activated these muzzles for decades - there was no reason to.

Going back to the interrupted topic, i.e. the biggest fish in this crocodile pond, the most interesting for me personally will be the last guy in this trio. And now I will try to explain to you all why I think so.

Master Ferer, whose last name no one except maybe the chief representative of the secret guard in Stone knew, had absolutely no combat classes and a forty-ninth level of power. Forty fucking ninth level! That's almost a Hero, albeit not at all combat oriented, but damn it! Level forty-nine!

So.

No one knows where this man lives, what he does here, and what his powers are. No one knows at all, as if he and his six or seven direct subordinates live a completely separate life, independent of the general schedule and orders. Except that there are a few big "buts" that make you take him completely seriously.

First, his requests are fulfilled faster than the most vociferous orders, despite the fact that he has no position whatsoever. If he wants something, it will be done. It's enough just to remember that he lives in the company of two gorgeous women, who are, at the same time, his bodyguards and who have thirty-second and thirty-third levels, respectively.

The second is that he can afford to yell and run over Lyroy, while the warrior himself can only stand silently and streamline himself like a snot-nosed recruit in front of the general. And no hints of his favorite methods of "landing" all sorts of boorish people.

Third, he lived here permanently and continuously. If all the others were seconded here for a year or two, it was he who never left Stone, constantly doing something of his own, something very important.

The two classes, the epic Ritual Master and the legendary Master of Magical Manifestations, became known to me purely by chance. It was simply that one of the interrogators overheard a conversation between his superior and Lyroy, from which he heard about this information. Fortunately for me and him, no one punished the casual witness at the time, giving me the opportunity to uncover the secret a year later.

But damn!

A legendary class, and clearly not a fighting one either. If all this fuss and Ferer himself are not connected to Yoke, I don't know what could be a thicker hint. From my observation, the plan is quite obvious: I need to get inside somehow, and then count the dreams of this very Master Ferer. Though he must be more protected than any other inhabitant here.

Somehow I also doubt that such a trick would work at all. Especially inside the fortress. Which means I'd have to do more than just sneak in somehow. Kidnap the man from his bed, drag him out of his pocket dimension. Then gut him for the data he needs and take him off in some unknown direction. And all this without raising the alarm, or at least without dying in the process.

A direct assault with my team is almost guaranteed to fail - they will die here without being able to help me at all. They probably wouldn't even be able to get past the outer perimeter. But suppose they get drunk on potions, I give them reinforcements from among the contracted Shadows, and give them orders to occupy the battle groups of Rangers and reinforcements coming to them securely enough to force them to concentrate on the outer enemy as much as possible.

At the same time, I would have to attack from the inside, and I would not be allowed to engage in open combat at all. Rather the opposite, a mission in the style of a bald man with a barcode - come, take, and go, perhaps killing a couple of people along the way who could not be left alive. And all this without being able to clearly understand the route of departure and almost at random.

Can I do something like that?

In theory, yes.

This means that it will be necessary to perform the experiment in practice.

Here's a challenge for the Hero, Kostik!

Eat it, bitch, don't get too full!

How can I help myself in this situation? Now I have all the time in the world to prepare, and there is no need to rush anywhere. So every little thing must be used for its intended purpose, to the full three hundred percent. In contrast to the situation with the slave camp, I'm not going to hold back, preferring to do my best and not to screw my comrades-in-arms.

I would not have told them anything if I had gone alone, but it was not even my promise that came into play, but the voice of rationality that woke up. I could break into a fortress with all the attention focused on an outside threat, and then steal a hostage who would hardly be willing to follow me (forty-ninth level and a legendary fucking class!). To do all this if the alarm rises - and it will - right inside the fold? The only thing I can do is run away, dropping my slippers, not accomplish the task at hand.

So the intervention of my guys (and gals!) is still necessary. It's not so bad, if you remember the contracts. The "almost High" Shadow is a good way to draw attention away from my person, and the Elder will be able to protect my team from the most dangerous attacks. Naturally, the enemy will quickly realize they're being countered by Shadows, and they'll surely find some clever way to deal with these creatures. I'm sure there are plenty of gimmicks for any enemy in Stone's stockpile. But they won't be able to do it quickly, and I won't hesitate to do it as quickly and swiftly as possible myself.

Summary?

The team takes part in this parade of suicidal tendencies in the name of Konstantin Yuryevich, albeit with maximum reassurance and the possibility of at any moment escaping into the woods, where it hides without a trace. And we can get rid of the horses, laughing wickedly in the process.

I brew a lot of potions, among which I must have some high-end enhancers, powerful sleeping potions, and some ability blockers (for the prisoner). I'll also try to pick individual boosters for each of the team, even for Ygra, who, with her stamina, can drink a whole canister of potions.

Also, don't forget about such a useful thing as a Dream. The smart move would be to finish cracking all the amulets available against the dreamwalkers, and then create behavioral bombs in the heads of the fortress inhabitants, making it hard for them to command the fortress. Unfortunately, it would be too much of a challenge to simply subdue everyone there and have a massacre without entering into direct conflict. No, I can handle that, too, if I'm given a year to thoughtfully correct other people's brains. It's not like fixing a civilian's personal life. The higher the stats and levels, the harder it is to influence the mind, and there are no weaklings here. I could increase my influence by Soaring in the Dreams, acting through both the Dreams and the Reality at the same time, but it's so loud noise that I'd be detected by all the sensors the first time I tried it. Using only the most basic of influences... I might be able to do it in a year, but I wouldn't be so sure.

Would you say I'm in no hurry?

There are various answers, ranging from boredom and lust for action to the fact that one of the behavioral bombs might go off prematurely, which would prevent me from deploying properly and raise panic. Yes, and the Watchers (the real class of one of the available specialists) would have to be deceived somehow. And if I can hide myself and my team, I can't hide the transformation of half of the garrison into human bombs.

But I consider the most important reason to be trivial statistics - I manage to get inside the pocket dimension several times, as I manage to get back out. Going here like to work, day after day? Sooner or later, I'll make a mistake, won't I? Even on Earth, I read about it, that sooner or later even the coolest special agent loses caution and makes a stupid mistake, dying on the spot if you do not give him a chance to rest.

I take a similar risk. And if I also give myself time to rest, by the time I'm done with the preparations, there will be a rotation of the squad, and I'll have to start from the beginning. And my team also runs the risk of getting into trouble somewhere, or even just getting caught by someone too curious, after which some legendary clairvoyant will get hold of this very thread and unravel it to the end. And while I, Hans, Taria, and especially Ygra don't care about incognito, Losius has a family. And I don't want to be among those who are to blame for his grief. So it's better not to be here that long.

A month and a half is probably a confident enough time to do enough to guarantee (or at least a high chance of) success without getting screwed up myself. I wish I could do more, better, perfect, but I can't take the pressure, and the right thing to do is to admit it to myself now, rather than die of stupid self-confidence a little later.

Decided.

Now all that remains is to look at the Stone from the inside, to understand it more fully its structure. I had to see it from the inside so that I would not be surprised by it in the future. Of course, I won't be looking at it myself, and my eyes won't be on it, either - it would be worth it to free up an extra slot for my contract, especially since I intend to let all my contracts go to the outer perimeter.

Okay, where's my little ice cube stuck in my heart?

The summons of the contractually bound Shadow was... painful, perhaps. Working with the Shadow was never a pleasant experience, always accompanied by the coldness and hatred of the natives, but now it hurt. About as much as it would hurt if I tried to pull a sharp icicle out of my own heart. I am generalizing as much as possible, for the range of feelings was much broader. But that's what I remember, the flash of pain and cold, followed by the collapse of the contract loop, allowing me to pull a particular Shadow into reality.

Along with the Shadow came the colors, which now seemed unusually bright, even though I remembered the days when none of the contracts had yet discolored my world. I couldn't wait to get rid of the rest of the contracts, because the benefits were good, but I didn't enjoy such experiments on myself.

The Shadow looked the same as last time, a half-meter-long snake of pure darkness in the starless sky that now wrapped its body around my forearm. I could have summoned it to another position as well, but such a position would reduce the likelihood of the scanners getting a glare, even if there were no signals in this area, a hundred meters from the Mist. Who knows, what if someone decides to use a mass scan at this exact moment when I'm least expecting it?

The Shadow itself is not thrilled to be on me. The creature senses my strength and my nature, and is also aware of my humanity, which makes it want to tear away my life, warmth, and soul, but is also desperately afraid of my wrath, which makes it hate the source of its fear even more. In general, the usual situation for these scum is just a hundred percent standard.

The Shadow slides off my arm, leaving into its native dimension and moving toward the rock and the fortress, clearly with joy. It is very content to increase the distance between itself and me... and between itself and the Mist, too. I don't like this murky fog, I don't like it at all, but so far it doesn't seem to be dangerous.

This Shadow really knew its business, literally leaking between the cells of all kinds of nets and stretchers, diving in and out, gradually getting closer and closer to the fortress itself. The fortress, covered by glowing barriers of unbearable light, burned the approaching Shadow with pain and danger, making it hiss in rage and fear. It would have given it up and escaped long ago, but my contract bound it more securely than any rope, and the level of development at which The Shadow could challenge the contract and tear it out by force, or at least escape, leaving a piece of itself in the noose, ripping it out with the meat and sagging considerably in power, it did not have.

The Shadow could only obey and die.

But I don't want her dead yet, so I also take several actions to ensure her survivability and amplification. Through the channel that binds us, a real flood of free power pours into the small geometrically, but is very dangerous in all other aspects, temporarily making it much stronger than just a full-fledged Shadow. Strong enough to literally slip between the small junctions of the two barriers, continuing onward.

The shadow floated in the small free space between the first and second layers of barriers, literally every second risking to hit one of them, evaporating into nothingness. The strange and shaky formation that formed the first barrier was gentle enough for the twirling creature, but the second, filled with the roaring power of a true storm, was guaranteed doom.

Another breach, a junction between the elements of the shell, made of many seemingly monolithic segments, was not so monolithic, allowing the creature to penetrate one step further. Now it was looping in the same confined space, but already between the second and third layers. And I had to urgently add strength through the channel because the third layer was Light. It was the purest, the embodiment of the total absence of Shadow as a concept, and it hurt even more than Sky and Flame combined.

The Shadow was literally struggling in agony, desperate not to disappear, but unable to endure the kind of exquisite pain that had been inflicted on it in this place. The new power provided only a few moments of the same agony, but the creature was smart enough not to try to break free by force, but simply to dive deeper. And deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper, until the unbearably bright light stopped burning it alive and became just painfully unpleasant.

A little further down, into the depths, my Shadow will lose contact with the real world. After that, it will no longer be able to surface in the same place where it dived. The creature is afraid now, too, for it has never before dived so deeply, at the mercy of truly terrifying creatures, but the thirst to exist was stronger than fear. Slipping between the segments (at this depth the gaps between the individual elements seemed much wider and more stable) that still burned, despite all the depth, the creature found itself behind the next barrier.

It surged upward unbelievably fast, literally pressing against the fourth barrier, made of frost and cold energy. These concepts do not harm the creatures of the shadow realm, but the deep layers and their inhabitants do. A few minutes later, the fourth barrier was broken, followed by the fifth and sixth. The last two barriers were neutral energy and served more as physical protection than as countermeasures against visitors from other plans. It wasn't that hard to get around them.

Now we can see what's inside.

I had to restore my strength with Breath, though I wished to save such a trump card for later. But my contract had accomplished its main tasks, and then I kicked it deep into its dimension so that it would not annoy me with its desires for the unsuspecting humans. It was hungry, despite the amount of power I had given it, not all of which it had used.

I don't care about the missing contract now anyway - one less ice under my heart, that's all right. It would be more unpleasant to discover facts that I could not learn from other people's dreams. Not because the sleepers didn't know them, but rather because I was a fool myself and hadn't thought to look in that direction. Sometimes idiocy catches up with even great people. Apparently, I really am a great man, that your Dumbledore, because my idiocy doesn't catch up with me. It won't fucking let me go!

So.

I've learned all I can about the protective domes covering the rock and the fortress, but I never thought for a second that something of a comparable scale, even if it's of a different orientation, might be waiting for me inside. I mean the signal fields. Not the usual signal strings, stretching nets, and other crap, but full-fledged closed fields that track what's going on in every inch of the fortress's inner area. You can't get around them, you can't fool them, and you can't get rid of them.

There were three full-fledged fields in all. I mean the ones that covered the whole fortress all at once. I admittedly had little idea what to do with them or how to get around them. The point is, while I'm in the Shadow, I can still get around these tricks - the other realms were either unaffected or not deeply affected at all. But if I decide to manifest myself in reality... there would be trouble.

The first field controlled the air. Literally every fucking speck of dust that hovered in these places. Of course, the field was tied to some selective artifact, which determines which of the reasons that disturbed the calm of this artifact is worthy of raising the alarm and which is not. It might not react to dust and rats, but everything that would be considered dangerous would quickly get kicked by the second field.

I'd call this thing a "blade field," as if it were an incarnation of the concept of dissection. As soon as the first field, airborne, marked a threat, the second field would immediately connect, creating several magical blades that struck the threat. It wouldn't help much against a full-blown invasion, since the field wasn't designed for such overloads (which wouldn't stop it from striking at random targets among the attackers), but it would take out loners like me with ease. My clairvoyance even told me about a few bloody accidents that happened because someone forgot to wear the amulet of identification. No vinaigrette, for the economy of energy, just a couple of cuts, most often to the throat, and that was the end of the game.

The third field was the familiar field of perception of intentions. It was a rather funny construction, and only a clairvoyant of a high enough level could work with it, even if the field itself was supported by artifacts. For me this thing is the safest - unexistence is sometimes a real imba, just like clairvoyance.

I take one last look at the fortress and then head for the river, so I can swim away from this place. I am too tired for this week, and my strength and provisions are already at an end. Although the attempt to pull the shadow of some passing salmon on me was not very successful - too small, which made the shape extremely difficult to hold, especially during the process of crossing the portal. I almost got torn into a hundred little kostiksalmon, or salmonkostik, or something.

Anyway, I got out.

I was floating along the river for about half an hour before I got far enough away from the outer circle of protection. I was able to see a strange chupacabra that looked like a horned rabbit, and then I stared at the fire and began to cook. My clairvoyance did not sense danger, and I could see a direct threat even with all the blinders on my third eye.

The hare was devoured in record time after which I covered myself with my raincoat, curled up, and fell asleep with pleasure.

I'll meet the team later because I deserve this rest.

Authors note:

12 pages.

There were no pure crits on either side, only a couple taken at the expense of bonuses.

So there was a Kostik's crit to reconfigure and raid the anti-Dream system, which he successfully accomplished. Now from the side of this plan, MC is almost completely covered, but his opponents are not. Only the fattest targets whose rooms and offices had individual and multi-plane protection were unaffected, but these, however, quite a lot - the elite were gathered.

There was also a crit from the Watcher, on "sense the shit", but due to the unexistence and caution of the MC, he only sensed a slight disturbance. It was enough to make an unscheduled scan of the territory, but not to raise the alarm and "look for my shekel, it's somewhere here".

That's it.

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/535124

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP