Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 24

Chapter 24

So now I'll tell you something that almost gave me a seizure. Even taking into account my exaggerated characteristics and, as I suspect, my not-quite-human biology. Are you ready to hear this delightfully exciting, like a supernova explosion right next to your fart, truth in the last resort? Well, then don't be offended and tell me that I didn't warn you, because the words were spoken by me, and you can't take them back.

So.

The Yoke does not exist.

Not as literally as you might think, but very, very close. The Yoke is not in the real world, nor is it in any of the known realms that have only been explored by the inhabitants of Alurei. There is no Yoke. But it, like the legendary level eighty gopher, is still there. It's a paradox, isn't it?1121212 Something that does not exist in reality not only affects reality but also determines the policy of every significant Alurei state, regardless of its non-existence.

The Yoke is not hidden by the skills of un-existence, at least that's what Ferer believed, and I'm inclined to believe his version. It is simply not located here, does not exist now, and is hidden in the same place where Alurei's most intimate possessions are kept. The Yoke is hidden on a specially created realm, or an enormous pocket dimension, that covers the whole world, and perhaps more than one. It is hidden in the same place where the base of the main essence is located, standing even above the Gods.

It was hidden near the center of the System.

I admit that realizing this magnificent truth made me genuinely want to sit on my ass and burst into tears. Even with my current skills, even if I were to upgrade some more... it's all too little to compete with things like the System. The damn thing isn't just above any other realm, no. If this "System" realm were simply more powerful and saturated than what I have available to me, it would be a hundred times easier. Yes, the energy of, say, Cold is always weaker than the energy of Shadow. Simply because Shadow is older, older, and more dangerous, even if only in the hands of the user of this realm.

If that were the case, all I would have to do was pump up enough to force my way into a space that was foreign to me. I'd have to meet the force with more power, and with skillful control over the energies I had. It's a daunting task, but not impossible, especially for a Hero. It should come as no surprise that such a method doesn't work: the Yoke was created against Heroes, and I have a strong suspicion that its installation didn't go bloodlessly and was first hindered and then straightened out. But the ancient Heroes of the past could not cope with this task, either perishing in their entirety, or resigning, or even taking part in the division of the world on a par with the kings and emperors of the time.

The problem is that the System stands on the sidelines of my usual perception. I can interact with the realms, but I am not the only one! And in the deepest layers of Shadow or Dream, the same system is no longer there at all, it does not reach there! Alas, I do not need to go to the depths of Shadow, which is also bad, but I can risk it for the sake of the cause, but to a place where I simply cannot reach by the usual means.

The creators of the System, the ones who protected its fucking central server, certainly made sure that the likes of me wouldn't get there. So that no one could get there, so that even with the help of the whole world, and with the help of more than a dozen Gods, the locals only managed to make a small crack through which they dragged the notorious Yoke through.

To repeat such a thing, I would need to take over most of the world, take complete control, and perform a similar procedure once again without incurring the wrath of the divine and the admins. This is not a task for a single person, an organization, or even an entire nation, no. It is really a worldwide quest, with no indulgences whatsoever.

Ferer knew a lot of things, but even these were small things. No one, not even the most trusted ones, was allowed near such data, but still, Ferer was a professional, a truly legendary magician, who knew everything about energies and even a little more. And so he was able to understand, was able to sense a tiny... No, not a vulnerability or a hole in the defenses, for they are not there. He understood the methodology, the state of interaction between the Yoke and reality, and suggested (only suggested, without the possibility to confirm!) a way to interact with this construction somewhat differently than the locals used to consider possible.

I'm not the most shitty essentialist, and so I managed to rummage through the stolen bits of the soul in search of answers, and I even got them. Fragmented and inaccurate to an even greater extent than they were in Ferer's mind, but the main thing is done. I got a fulcrum, a point from which I could push back and put my plans into action. And I need, no more, no less, to turn this whole world upside down, and now I am very likely to speak quite literally.

The answer to my questions was banal human (and not only human) greed. If they hadn't wanted to save money on summoning reagents, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be licking the boots of some high-born bitch (at best) and I wouldn't be in trouble. Or I'd be dead if the chain of command hadn't been overlaid, and I'd have been thrown out right in the Hall of Summoning. That would have been fun, I guess, but not for long. Greed worked here, too. Glory, greed and pride, glory forever.

What were you doing in the Stone? Lots of things, actually. It wasn't just the summons, as I had originally thought. Yes, they could theoretically do a summoning here, and the late prince was well aware of that, so he tried to get here in order to persuade the then not so old, but already very strong and experienced Ferer to do the ritual. Who knows, maybe the old man would have agreed to such a request if the price had been right? Then the current political situation in Melareth would be very different, perhaps diametrically opposed - an entirely different prince would die, leaving a surviving heir to the kingdom.

But the Stone was not intended for summoning, even though one of the few ritualists sat here who could conduct it according to all the rules and had done it more than once. Here they developed new mass rituals, created weapons in case of war, studied realm energy and the process of its processing into conventional energy (it's like nuclear power and a nuclear bomb, only three times cooler), and developed methods of simplifying spatial transfers and creating closed dimensions, created new types of closed fields (the sensory barrier that caused me so many problems was created here), and even tried to create some new legendary artifacts.

All this has been documented, recorded, and studied over many, many years. Perhaps the archives of the Stone will save even more than its treasury and vaults, for to ruin so many years of painstaking work would be a great insult to the King. Lethal for those who'd missed our attack and those who couldn't get the archives out. Although the latter is not a fact - the archive itself, as well as the storage of the most valuable artifacts, is located in another spatial pocket, tied directly to the foundation of the Stone. Even if the Mist has gobbled up almost all the magic in the enchanted walls, there's still a chance to open the pocket and get everything-everything out of it. All the more reason to hate the unknown offender who sent saboteurs to visit.

However, the above actions were important, but not the main purpose of the complex. It was the purpose for which the Stone was once created, almost as a gift (forcing everything they could rip off, but still not enough profit) to the then fledgling kingdom, made up of successful adventurers whose leader founded a new dynasty. In fact, taking possession of the Stone, elevated the young kingdom from the category of "rubbish no one would take seriously" to the level of "promising fellows". It was the presence of such a "gift" that allowed Melareth to endure during the most difficult decades when everyone and everything wanted their land and gold. They were simply too afraid to be touched, remembering the purpose of the fortress and, more importantly, who would kick their asses if anything went wrong with the fortress. And so gossip was right that the royal family had at one time taken refuge in the Stone, for that was how it was - they did not risk storming the fortress, giving them time to regroup.

Yeah...

The King and his entourage will be asked a lot of unpleasant questions about "where you fucked up the property entrusted to you," and he will have nothing to answer except to accuse unknown aggressors. It is not certain that the King will die, for his answer may be deemed worthy, and then Melareth will not be the only one to come looking for us. This brings me back to the thought of the noose clamped around my neck. When they bring in the elite from other countries, there will be a lot of tough bastards per square meter. I don't want to wait an extra day - the sooner we get out of here, the better.

But back to our Heroes, or rather to the question of the utility of the Stone. What were they doing here that was so important, connected with Yoke, and useful not so much to Melareth but their patrons? Pleasing their greed and unwillingness to risk their skins, of course!

Getting even an epic class at level ten is incredibly difficult, demanding in terms of characteristics, and deadly by definition. Such a thing as the first legendary class is not even worth asking about. It's something that only a handful of people can do. Geniuses among geniuses, true nuggets that in their youth accomplish things that other illustrious champions even in their old age can only dream of. Well, or you will be transplanted that class by ripping it out of someone else.

The ritual of class transplantation itself has been known for a long time, but until the appearance of Yoke was considered a kind of joke, of little use to anyone. The point is that a madman who sacrifices his soul and life must be a volunteer, not just a sacrifice, but also a full-fledged help to his killers, literally pushing them to do the right thing. The slightest doubt, the slightest insecurity, or even just the slightest wish that you stop being hurt and withdrawn will turn into an epic (legendary, mythical) fiasco. Even if some volunteers will agree to this (if his family is promised the moon and he is old and tired of life), he must have balls of steel and incredible stamina to endure such torture and not break the ritual. Few legendary classmates would do such a thing, and forcing them into voluntary self-sacrifice... is fraught with a lot of corpses at best.

But if that sacrifice is a summoned Hero, a victim of Yoke, then the transplant is a success - a guaranteed coolest class, right at the start, and with the opportunity to later enlist the support of family and loyal people... This is the kind of thing they would kill for, without delay or hesitation.

And everything would have been as it was, if not for someone's greed and desire to get even more, to snatch not just cool classes, but also those suitable for you specifically, necessary for you, and not for the summoned Hero! That's where Stone worked, as well as others like it, helping a rich daddy get the best for his son so that the poor guy wouldn't risk his skin like some poor schmuck.

Follow the thought.

There is no manifestation of the essence of the System in reality.

Neither is it among the multitude of realms, whatever they may be.

But!

The System is located in a superspace dimension. A realm that is not a realm, but something else, but partially operating by similar mechanisms, operating on remotely similar principles. That is, somewhere in the depths of the Shadow, the distance to Yoke is still as vast as it is in reality, but it is already smaller. It is still not enough for any influence, for it is no chance to catch traces of "Admin Server's realm", but it is already closer, even if by some pathetic step.

What if we try to act not just through one realm, but through many of them at once? Make it so that at the moment of Summoning, when Yoke gets as close as ever, to start acting simultaneously in several (not necessarily even all at once) fortresses like Stone. What if we use the realm link, leaning it on the summoning ritual, forcing the Yoke mechanism not just to rewire the summoner's mind, forever leaving a path to his soul, but to make the summoner choose exactly the classes the summoners want?

The task is complicated only if you compare it to the installation of Yoke, and otherwise, this action is many times easier than the previous one. Especially since there was not much to do, and the benefit is obvious.

Stone was not only useful because of her work with Yoke. On the contrary, much of her benefit lay in secondary projects. But at the same time, the very possession of one of the amplifier-transmitters that could set Yoke's algorithm made Melareth "cool". Because Stone alone is not enough to guarantee class selection success, of course. But the Reithnor Kingdom, or the Dawn Forest, or the Seinberg Empire, for that matter, could politely ask Melareth to work as a sounding board for their summoning rituals when the time was right. And not for free!

In turn, Melareth itself could ask for a similar favor in return, for a fee, of course. Other states have several such places, and the largest hegemons can provide such an appeal on their own, without asking their neighbors for help.

An important point to consider is that not every place is suitable for setting up an installation that can not only steadily use realm energy processing, but also run a sort of probe-transmitter deeper into the realm, to start signaling to Yoke to do the right thing. That's why they gave the Stone to such simpletons as the founders of Melareth were. Too far, and it would take too much effort to capture that wretched kingdom, and too much effort to hold territory. And here at once you'll get a loyal debtor, and nail his neighbors (which, or whose patrons, and you are not your friends), and expand the network.

A kind of radio tower, creating normal coverage for "Yoke-Alurei mobile communication". With each new fortress, the summoning of Heroes is more successful, the Heroes themselves increasingly choose the right classes, and subjugation is almost always imposed, rather than one of three as in the very first decades after the Yoke appeared. The stronger the coverage, the rarer the disruption, the easier and cheaper it will be to summon and then hopefully the cherished dream of Ferer will come true: to open the way to the Hall of Choice themselves, starting not to summon Heroes, but to make them themselves. From the first levels and straight into the Chosen Ones! What do you think?

In general, the pipe dream of the locals is very clear, may well be considered Great, thoroughly pragmatic, and quite amoral - just like on Mother Earth, only without the Internet. Power over the world beckons many, and the one who treads the path to the Hall of Choice first has all chances to become the lord of the world without any tricks: send your son or daughter inside and come back a first-level Chosen One with five mythical classes and an artifact on top. And everyone understands that the first one will get the cream of the crop, but they continue to work on this topic, continue to strengthen the network, or even the Network, make alliances, and share the pelt of the unkilled bear.

Well, yes, unlike Earth's space program, everyone here firmly knows that such a cool thing is possible, knows how to achieve it, and has full confidence that competitors are already working on it. Once again drawing an analogy with Earth, it's some kind of mix of nuclear, space, and whatever the hell else programs has continued to be explored for centuries and even millennia.

Naturally, everyone is well aware that a breakthrough will not happen in their lifetime, but here, attention, another thing is important. If it were just another useless theory, the profit from which will be only in the distant future, in a hundred thousand and five hundred years, then the attitude would be appropriate. At most, the budget would be sawed off on this case, but certainly not much effort. But even without the long-term prospects, the creation of "communication towers" is still useful as hell! Just can not tell you how useful it is! Huge amounts of energy poured into the accumulators and then sent to strengthen the stationary protective fields, combat artifacts, or protect the home hut with honestly stolen stuff. New research, new artifacts, and even new classes were obtained by those who worked too long and diligently with realm energy (there are a couple of families in Melareth working closely with the Mist, and I even know what they are doing now). And the ability to dictate their will to those who do not and will not have such towers.

Diversions like ours are, in fact, very rare, but they are by no means new - the attitude toward such pranks is similar to that toward nuclear terrorists, and yet such situations have happened before. True, more often research laboratories that had just been built were destroyed. They say these petty little guys are too cheeky, let's tame them, instead of giving them a nuclear cudgel.

I say it again.

These fortresses are not built primarily for communication with Yoke, but for other benefits, the deprivation of which would hit the kingdom just as hard. And the suspects will not be those who want to destroy Yoke, but those who want to undermine Melareth's economic, scientific, and military base. Thanks, guys, that makes me feel a little better.

Now, dear audience, the trillion-dollar question: is there any way to use the connection you have with Yarm not to sneak into the Hall of Invocation and become almighty like God, not to summon a big-breasted blonde in the rank of Chosen One, but to trivially take and kick off a super-complex and unfuckingly delicate magic-system fuck, incapacitating it from fucking use?

It's just out of pure curiosity that I'm interested, without any double interpretations.

I'm nice, kind and sweet, believe me.

The silence was complete, with only the sound of frogs croaking somewhere in the distance. Ygra, lulled by my long and detailed story, sleeps sweetly, curled up somewhere behind me. The others do not sleep, but only blink their eyes in silence, disconcerted beyond all measure, or, to put it more simply, all of them are quite fucked by the scale of the problem posed. Hestia doesn't blink, but only because she has no eyes, so she's just as stunned as the others.

The woman had the foresight to keep her mist up, not to lower it toward us, so that God forbid something should happen. I was, of course, very convincing when I told her that I wouldn't be affected by her ability, or if I was, it would take a while to get through, and it would be noticeable. I wasn't so sure of my invulnerability, though. I didn't say anything or even hint at anything, but Raimel herself didn't want to risk my companions if not me. I suspect she just doesn't know yet what her ability and side effects are, so she doesn't risk testing her control.

The others, if they'd been worried about it before, now forgot about the mist and its dangers all at once and for a long time. What I'd said had clearly caused their brains to go into reboot. It's just that before, of course, they were aware of the need to go out against the world. But now, after they could appreciate the magnitude of the effort that went into creating Yoke, to know how many Gods had their hands in it, how many Nations and Guilds had worked together, how much money had been spent to achieve the goal... Anyone here would feel like a pathetic little grain of sand, lost in the gears of a well-adjusted and enormous mechanism that would shred a dozen boulders into rubble, not to mention a grain of sand, which it would chew up and not notice at all.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Hans, returning to his usual expression. "Where to go and who to kick ass?"

The others also unfroze (not counting the quietly sleeping Ygra) and nodded affirmatively. Like come on chef, we believe in you. Lead to the victory. To be honest, I was a little touched. Though I knew no one would back down now, I was sure that the cards I'd been dealt would put doubts in their hearts. I had more doubts myself than anyone else. The bastards just nodded smartly, listened to my dull speech, and just as casually accepted the new inputs.

On the one hand, it is understandable, for them both the past mission and this one are equally impossible. But we accomplished the last one, even without losses and with a profit. So they reasoned sensibly that I was just going to do the impossible once again. I wish I had their confidence... or at least a little bit of it, so I wouldn't shudder in terror.

"Since you're asking, listen to my plan." The smile on my face looks strange in the context of the problems, but I can't stop smiling. "Before we rush to smash and destroy the ancient craftsmen's work, we need to get out of this swamp and out of Melareth altogether. I have a sneaking suspicion that we have outgrown this kingdom. And even if we have not outgrown it, we have nothing to do in this torn hornets' nest. And then, I have an idea..."

The words poured out in the usual stream, painting the basis of our future actions. My team listened, sometimes correcting, supplementing, or reprimanding me when I got carried away again. And I could not help thinking that for some reason, watching them, I began to believe that our task was really doable.

"Listen, Hestia, why wasn't there anyone in Stone who worked with Mist?" I asked, trying to make sure my boots didn't squeeze the little bump I was balancing on at the same time. "I did not pay attention to it before, and I did not care about it, but really! In a place like this, and without the owners of the appropriate classes... strange, to say the least."

The misty figure hovering over my head did an amusing pirouette, like some kind of bird, and hummed thoughtfully. She liked flying, by the way, and according to her, it was one of the things that reconciled her with her new condition. Even though it wasn't a full flight, it was soaring. The fog body allowed her to deal frivolously with gravity, saddling the lightest currents of air and gusts of wind like a surfer on an ocean wave. She also learned to use trivial sound waves, rather than the power of the Mist, to speak. The voice is still eerie as if howling, but it no longer causes an untrained person to turn gray early and build a brick house without bringing in bricks.

"They were, actually, Tin." Getting her to call me by my name was a relatively easy task, for she didn't like to humiliate herself, even though she was willing to do it night and day for my approval, and with sincere pleasure. "I think you destroyed them with that alchemical bomb on the central portal platform. At least, messages were coming through the connecting amulet, but they were too hurried and indistinct."

I remembered, recognizing that at least one of the survivors of an attack with a powerful magical poison that turned blood into dust was trying to shield himself from the finishing shadows with some kind of strange energy. If I thought about it and remembered properly, it was indeed a power similar to the one that was hiding in the Mist, outside the dimensional fold. Alas, I'd been too excited at the time, pumping massive amounts of shadow energy through me, trying to nail the enemy as quickly as possible. And I paid far more attention to those who carried the light power as the most dangerous, and that man died rather quickly.

"But you are right in your judgment." If the "master" in her speeches was easy to get rid of, her manner of speaking in solemn form was unstoppable. "There used to be a trio of epic class possessors in the fortress honed precisely to work with the right realm."

Here she was silent, choosing words, and I, from nothing to do, thought of ways to get rid of her "Thou". The solemn form, which she constantly mixed with the typical military bureaucracy language that seems to be inextinguishable in all worlds at once, is clearly not only about this very "thou". Here it is important to maintain an emphatically detached and polite manner of communication, even if you insult your interlocutor. The clairvoyant, by the way, asserted that the woman even communicated with her lover in the same way, which infuriated and made the late At'Orovay laugh.

Except at the moment of intimacy, Raimel forgot about politeness, straining her vocal cords, enjoying the sensations. She was (no one could verify that now, for obvious reasons) quite a screamer. That's why At'Orovay appreciated her. The moans of pleasure, genuine ones, from a beautiful and always cold woman really stirred his ego, as did the orgasms she was having. The strange thing was that this "snow queen" in life, in bed, turned on and burst out much faster and easier than ordinary girls. In Hestia's opinion, it was due to some sloppy healing procedures that had boosted her libido and intimate sensitivity as a side effect - something she had never witnessed in her youth.

Or maybe not as a sideline, for someone could have hired a professional "bimboficator," grooming a mistress and coworker for herself. Now that her body had turned into a cluster of fog, Hestia Raimel was no longer sure why she had so quickly and easily agreed to the offer of protection in the execution of her murdered ex. Not that she knew much about such things, but rumors abound, and not every powerful snob likes to go to brothels, however elite they might be, nor will everyone be allowed to bring their heating pad with them. Who really transformed not-too-noble girls in secret, and who really bought them with promises of patronage or achieved simple courtship is a cause for a lot of speculation and gossip.

"I cannot judge with absolute certainty, for I am not versed in high politics." My thoughts are interrupted by the same calm voice. "But lately, there has been a rift between the Nebelmayne and Valtinor families on one side and the Crown on the other, forcing them to stand on opposite sides. One of the reasons for this quarrel, if the rumor is to be believed, was a drastic increase in the rates of their Mistsmen, as well as an attempt to squeeze the gains of the Mist-affiliated classes under their control. The King was not overjoyed by such proposals, having at once removed from the Stone all holders of the clan names, as well as their associated servants' names. The new holders of the necessary classes were weaker and worse prepared, but their presence was sufficient... until your arrival."

So that's how it is.

There's a real secret game of thrones going on here in real-time, while I'm messing around in the corners. What's funnier is that now the King can't even call these "monopolists" for help. Not because of pride, but because he suspects them of helping the saboteurs in the first place. Well, seriously: very precise and cool sabotage, and even polished by Mist - isn't that a reason to consider what happened to be revenge performed by yesterday's partners?

The clairvoyant claims that originally the first of the Arials brought the then not-yet-so-influential houses closer to him precisely to control the Stone in order to quickly get rid of the "consultants" imposed by the patrons, who did not allow him to use the fortress to the fullest extent. They, first conscientiously and then not so conscientiously, but still served and helped in everything related to the Stone, thus rising to the top, standing next to the throne. And here, all of a sudden, at first they got too cocky, and then such an unfortunate thing happens. Uh-oh, someone will have to answer a lot of questions, even more than will be asked of those in charge of the security of the stronghold.

They are clearly not happy about their impertinence now. They would have apologized and, repenting beforehand, gone back to their duties before they were no longer needed. Or they would not have apologized, for the days when work in the Stone was the main source of income and influence of these two houses are long gone. Either way, at most they would have lost (not) much political capital, gaining a valuable lesson for the future. Instead, they might be killed in the heat of the moment before King could figure it out.

I like this situation because we won't be chased by the Mist energy specialists. I'm not sure how cool Hestia is, but she's still small and weak, and her pursuers are big and strong. Screw that, it's a mess. We'd better get out of here quickly, preferably in comfort.

We were going pretty fast, but certainly not comfortably. It was especially hard on Lucius, poor guy. I was very agile, and I could help myself with the shadow supports and adjust my weight with the Leaf on the Wind, so I moved relatively smoothly. When your weight is distributed by surface tension, you can walk even through relatively dense marsh crawlspace-where the other would fail, I would walk like dry land.

Hans is a pathfinder, and that says it all. He may not enjoy this kind of bathing in mud and mud, but he knows how to survive here and knows how to apply his knowledge in practice. And with his second class, he moves even faster than Ygra, who, on the contrary, slows down so that we all keep up.

Taria can certainly use light steps, moving through the swamp as if she were on a parquet. It strains her reserve, but her reserve is high, as for her class, a consequence of her titles. Except that she decided not to strain her legs by settling on Ygra's neck, somehow persuading her to "ride on her arms". She must have some sort of unscripted skill in Status, otherwise, I don't understand how she can do it with me and now with Ygra. Since the ogre carefully mutes her pheromones, and the dancer tries not to look at her tits, simply closing her eyes or looking straight ahead, such a ride is convenient for everyone, even for Ygra, who is entertained by the chirping of the girl hanging on her back. Hope she wouldn't teach my ogre anything bad...

But Losius, though he was also very agile, was still a very unfit individual for the marshes. We all offered him a ride on Ygra with Taria (hussars, shut up and keep your mouths shut!), but the proud bird chose not to show weakness. A couple of potions given to him with minimal toxicity and the same dexterity allowed him to stay on his feet and not fall too often, but he looked dirty and miserable. I mean, Hans was dirty, too, which I would have been if I hadn't cleansed myself from time to time with steps through the Shadow, but Losius wasn't just filthy, he looked miserable, too.

Our journey through the marshes, thanks to Ygra, is quick and uncomplicated - one dive into the marshes does not count as a problem. There was enough time to talk, to discuss Melareth's politics, and just to be quiet. Hestia flew overhead, above us all, maintaining a blanket of mist that didn't touch us. I noticed a few birds flying along strange trajectories in the distance, but they didn't approach us, so we were limited to a few minutes of lying on the ground.

The mud-covered clothes hid us perfectly from the gaze of all kinds of aerial observers. Yes, an eagle can easily spot even a mouse below it, especially if it's an eagle or a falcon enhanced with magic. But we, too, are covered by magic. Ygra constantly maintains a shroud of swamp energy around us. Yes, we're not standing still for this talent to unfold fully right now, but even on the move, there's a benefit to it, and a noticeable one at that. Hestia holds her eerie and terrifying mist above us, careful not to let us touch it - already above our height I sense something strange, incomprehensible, but that's all. The concealment was... reliable.

That is, far from ideal, because we are moving, not standing still, but still good. As long as they are not looking for us in a particular square with absolutely precise targets, it is good enough. The game, though, is to walk waist-deep in the swamp, or stand on four limbs, shining a green ass. The incline would have been very appetizing, for it offered an excellent view not only of her buns but also of her pussy, but the mud prevented me from enjoying the spectacle, at the same time reducing the impact of her body to almost zero. Also positive, in its own way.

If there was any way to find us, it would be clairvoyance. Fortunately, it was the only way to find us that would not only be difficult, but fucking difficult. As a testament to this, there was a woman's hand-sized mirror lying in my pocket. The mirror is literally shaking from the energy of the Dream, which I keep from spilling out, both with my class sleepwalker skills and with the essentialism-treated cover.

The mirror itself was the basis for my first-ever application of Hiding in Mirrors, combined with a very unusual use of the standard Edges of Reflection. First I crushed the poor mirror, turning it into a dozen shards still in the frame, and then I began to work both with the mirror and, simultaneously, with each of its shards. Any shard shows a certain area of space with a huge spread. North, west, south, and east - any side of the world, but just not where we are going and where we are.

Every time I fail to hold my unexistence over all our company, my invisible opponents will run into the mirror corridor, and their gazes will move away from us in a completely different direction. Not a complete guarantee, but even fewer personalities will be able to penetrate such protection than those who would penetrate my unexistence.

The latter, alas, do exist - this I can say with absolute certainty. As soon as we left the hiding place created by Ygra, I noticed a gradually growing sense of other people's attention. Somewhere out there, in the distance, perhaps even in Stavrosk itself, in the Royal Palace, they were looking for us. According to my estimation, there are two powerful clairvoyants (or owners of similar skills), working in conjunction with several weaker colleagues, similar to the one in the Stone Seer. Let the earth be as nails to him. And both masters rely for their actions on the Eye, which shines with an unbearably bright light that tears away any coverings.

This Eye is as calm as it is indifferent... It is Shoreless. The mythical artifact is no joke, and the only thing that saves us is that they do not yet know where to direct the eye of this miracle, which now seems to me even partially alive. From whose eye is it made, and what abilities did the bearer of this eye possess? A mystery that I have neither the strength nor the desire to solve. All my skill is aimed at creating another deception, another lie, which I will feed to my opponent.

It was not for nothing that I ordered us to get ready to leave the shelter so quickly, having sensed only the first signs of trouble approaching. If we had stayed in the swamp, we would have been caught. Ygra's lay was good, but not enough to hold that kind of power. The impact is at once very strong, but just as subtle and skillful, not allowing you to simply divert your gaze to the side. It has to be approached comprehensively and very meticulously, or you'll make a mistake and, without even illuminating your exact location, show them the very fact of what you are. It is a matter of time and resources to uncover your defenses completely, and this folks has more of them.

It helps that we are in constant motion - a moving target is always easier to find because they are not covered by stationary barriers. Only the magnificent (when not suffering from idiocy) Kostik managed to create, if not a stationary fortress barrier from the clairvoyants, then its convincing semblance, while remaining in motion. They look for a place because it is easier to find and, in the case of some kind of hideout or secret base, more correct.

They would have been looking for an identity, too, but here we left no clues. Even if the necromancers could interrogate the dead, even if the ritualists got hold of the remnants of my potions or the abandoned pieces of my team's equipment, they wouldn't be able to get a hold of it, coming out to our company of evil villainous villains, viciously angering evil hunters. It's deafening out there, which I've taken a lot of time and effort to do. No, they are looking specifically for where we are, taking advantage of the remnants of our presence in and around Stone.

If they find that farm where we have been sitting the whole time we have been preparing for the operation any time soon, it will be bobo. But so far they have only a rapidly disintegrating knot of probabilities, which with each passing moment is less and less fit for such a job. They are not Gods, Chosen Ones, or Heroes to do the impossible. Clairvoyance is as much a science, as much an art as any other magic. Yes, its limits are ephemeral, and yes, it allows a lot and more, but even it can't give you information from emptiness! And to search for a wizard of my level with a simple brute force... not even God's help here.

Here is another pulse going through the presence of our company. They are knowing that we were in the Stone, using this knowledge to determine if we are and will be. It is impossible to describe such things in words, there is simply not enough vocabulary - all these shades and undertones of meanings and understatements... they exist only in my head and nowhere else. A blind man cannot explain to a deaf man what the burgundy sky tastes like, what the shades of forgotten battles sound like, where the past is headed and where the future is coming from. Neither can I.

But I don't need to explain.

I see the pulse of other people's attention, I feel the beating of their hearts, and the fluttering of their souls that are devoted to a single goal. I feel the agony of a few criminals dragged from the nearest prison and served as material for the ritual amplification of the pulse of recognition. The Seer himself, who took first fiddle, now hides both himself and his colleagues behind other people's pain. Reassurance, nothing more, for they know nothing of the supposed foe, nor do they know of the presence or absence of opponents Seers. That's why they hide, just in case.

Except that at the moment each pulse begins, the flow of other people's attention is too strong, and so the visions of the lives of several very high-level brigands who served as material are washed aside. I am not interested in their names, the suffering they caused, or the places of burial, which the interrogators, who questioned them beforehand, have known about for a long time. But the identity of the Seer and his gang is another matter.

They're looking for me, but I've already found them myself.

The Seer is strong, and his class skills are surprisingly well developed, better than the Seer I killed. I can't say it's the same, but he's a lot cooler than the dead guy. And his support group is pretty good, too, unimaginably good, if you count the shining Eye as a support for his search skill.

The Seer is old, very old, I would even say super old, but he has no time for puns and jokes (1). A gray head, a face covered with warts and wrinkles - the consequence of some curse, the vision of which dissolves before it is formed - thin and even graceful hands, constantly moving over a huge illusory map of Melareth and the nearest countries to it.

His skills work like a rollback, strictly at certain intervals. He looks at the connections of certain places and events, where Stone, pardon another pun, has become the cornerstone. Here he has found and unraveled the not-so-carefully hidden thread of events of the late technicians who stole and even partially exported the combat golem cores. Here he found the conspiracy of the two alchemists, as well as the place where they hid the loot. No doubt tense, but the previous hours of anguish gave the result - the Seer found only the flames and ashes of burnt reagents worth barely a dozen rich endowments. And if he looked more closely, he could find the discrepancy, pull the thread, unravel the tangle, but he was looking for something else.

Clever, logical, and wrong.

Lucky for me.

Here is another impulse, but this time the knowledge is pulled from the interconnection of the nearly destroyed spatial fold and those who visited it. Whatever was going on inside there, the impact of the Mist was not only able to stop, but even partially reversed-if not for that, such a trick would not have worked. The Seer is strong, and his class is designed for clairvoyance and only clairvoyance, unlike mine. Yes, the mythical class can be just as good, even better, but I am alone, with only shards of mirror and swearwords, and there are many of them, and they have the fucking Eye, from which nothing can be hidden. It's not the first time he's used this kind of impulse, and it's not the first time I've taken him aside.

One shard of a broken mirror, in which instead of reflection you can see only the haze of Dream and distant landscapes, darkens, becoming almost black. The impulse goes sideways, loses its power, and disappears into nothingness, and the Eye's keen eye catches only emptiness again. The Seer has too unsteady a support, which is why it is not surprising to see regular misses and random parts of the kingdom and wilderness. If there is simply no target to search for (or it is hidden too well), the impulse will show at least something, expending the rest of its energy.

The Seer is on the verge - he's now drugged and working at full power. He damn near finds me at the other end of Melareth! There are very few like him but even for him, such a rhythm is too hard. The others in his group feel even worse - the main kickback, the garbage visions, they take for themselves, giving their bosses room to work.

More than half of the shards in the broken mirror are already gone, having become black as night, melted glass. But the enemy, too, is on its last breath - just a little longer and they will retreat, recognizing that the saboteurs are not only gone but also remain unknown. For Melaret, whose ruling dynasty wields the Shoreless Eye, this is a painful blow. High awareness and the ability to always, if not punish, at least know the name of the offender you will retaliate against later has become commonplace for them. Only the elves of the Dawn Kingdom had the best clairvoyants in the local sandbox, but they had no Eye, even if they had other toys of the same type, but of a lower grade. They had their mythical artifacts, too, but they had a different focus.

I was already being dragged in the arms of Ygra, but Taria just slapped her on the thigh and walked through the swamp as if on dry land, mercilessly wasting her reserve. I didn't have to worry about my movement, because Ygra was carrying me much more carefully than she had dragged Taria before. Hestia had stopped creating a fog dome and was just following us on the ground: we were already out of the standard search rituals. Now, all we have to do is wait for the end of the search through the Eye and we can say we're through.

The Seer does not give up, time after time using the Stone as the main node, and the Eye provides an excellent support. If the resource of the mythical artifact was not consumed at such a rate, we would be screwed. Fortunately, His Majesty worries more about his Eye than he does about the health of the Seer. But it is too early to write off the old man, and too early to forget that he, too, is considered the best in his kingdom for a reason.

I can't hear his words, spoken somewhere behind his back, but I know to whom they are addressed, and I know what will follow them. I remember talking about the two mighty seers, didn't I? Now the second, who had previously played the role of backup and support, has stepped in. They both know each other well, though they dislike their rival. He considers her a young upstart while being angry that she promises to surpass him in the future. She thinks of him as an old and squabbling old man whose fame has been greatly exaggerated. But they work well together as a couple.

Now that the brigands have stopped overshadowing my opponents with their torment, and the new ones have not yet been laid on the portable altar, I can distinguish my enemies quite clearly. They don't, frankly, care - they're as confident that their names are known to all concerned as they are that no one is watching them. Not through the protection of the palace!

They do not even think that there is an idiot somewhere, capable of using unexistence and clairvoyance, relying on the mirror and the created maze of reflections, not only to feel their presence but also to follow the trail of impulses left by them and infiltrate into the guest. It is necessary not only to hide from the Eye but also to stick an intangible nose where it is sought and gladly ripped off. If the Eye catches my glance, it can strike just as hard as Sauron! So my intelligence and instinct for self-preservation were once again greatly overestimated.

Now I have two people in my focus of perception at once: an old man and a scowling woman in her forties. A short hedge of completely gray hair, completely white eyes, a lean body, if not a fighter, then a person who is used to regularly stressing her body, and very unpleasant skills. She's weaker than the Seer, I'll give her that; she's not experienced enough, and she hasn't reached her full potential yet. But she is more dangerous to me, at this moment in time.

If the Seer goes straight ahead, linking cause and effect into a whole, using the available amplifiers as a springboard, it is as if she is unraveling the tangle. She grabs hold of the end of the thread and drags herself along. The end of the thread was Stone, its fall. And the thread, thin and constantly threatening to break, leads straight to us. I'm not quite sure what logic her skill uses, but somehow it partially ignores unexistence. She's not looking for me, and she won't find me. But she can come to me herself, right under my door, and then notice the traces of camouflage on the door. The old man's scared for a reason - this bitch is sure to outdo him.

Another shard darkens, throwing her off the trail, and breaking the thread of the tangle, and I barely keep my presence hidden, preventing her from noticing my effect on said thread. Meanwhile, the old man strikes again, and I waste the shard, taking his momentum away from my team. And the gray-haired woman somehow manages to restore her thread and continue reducing the "distance" between us. Again I spend the shard, and the Seer, obviously on the last crumbs of energy sends another, extremely powerful, search impulse.

I don't know exactly what I'm doing, but I manage to catch an incredibly intense intention to find and understand on the edge of a shard, redirect it into another shard, and then, from that shard, send it toward the thread that almost led to me. The two clairvoyants, figuratively speaking, collided with their foreheads. The old man hissed and clutched at his failing heart, which caused the healers to fly over to him, literally flying over, using their amulets of levitation and not wanting to tread on the floor, painted with clairvoyance-enhancing seals. The woman only grimaced painfully, wiped the blood from her nose, and pounded her fist on the illusory map with quiet fury. They didn't suspect me, thinking they'd gotten themselves into trouble by using their powers too closely.

I, however, am as cool as Groot!

My eyes are blurry, so I don't immediately discern the pair of rippling green melons on which my gaze has focused. Honestly, considering how bad my head hurts, it would be easier for me to stare at those tits for a while until my brain shuts down as Taria did earlier.

Dreams. dreams.

With difficulty - my vulnerability to such influences is quite heightened in my condition - I look away, canting my gaze to the side to read the system message.

Edges of Reflections: 5/7

Allows you to use any reflective surface as a window to observe a specified target; target selection is determined by clairvoyance skills; allows you to penetrate virtually any defense, including exotic and unique ones; distance to the target of observation plays no role; allows you to exert the widest range of influences on the observer through reflection; allows you to use reflection as a passage to the Dream realm going there with the material body; allows, with effort, to capture with the available mirrors intangible manifestations, redirecting or manipulating them within certain limits.

It's funny how that works out.

I can't (yet) redirect a magical attack, but I can very well do those "non-material manifestations". It's all sorts of effects through clairvoyance, mental realms, and curses. Especially the first one - I don't know if I can repel a curse, it's a curse, not a manifestation, but I can give the clairvoyants a pretty good kicking. Furthermore, by attacking me, they open themselves up to my influences.

Now in my Dreams, there is a piece, a fragment, a remnant of a peculiar thread, which I could easily use to find a clairvoyant and try to influence her through a mirror or even through a dream. I could have done it anyway, but then she would have had chances to either hide, or sense my presence, or both at once. And now the imprint of her will would lead me straight to her, and by using the unexistence in conjunction with that imprint, I had a good chance of doing it without her or her colleagues noticing. Dangerous business, but the prospects are very interesting, too.

I'll have to think about it carefully.

I'll just get some sleep.

When I closed my eyes, I was pretty sure that when I woke up, I wouldn't see the goddamn swamps anymore. I hoped the guys would have the decency not to wake me up and just lay me down gently and let me rest. It was a very hard day and night, just like the previous three days and nights. Now it's over - the moment is gone, the knot is completely exhausted, and finding us the same way won't work.

I just hope the squad doesn't run into another legendary creature while I'm asleep. But they're not me, are they, to get into this kind of trouble for nothing? I'm telling you the truth, I'm telling you for sure!

Authors note:

There. 13 pages. Not bad.

There was only one pure crit, on the Stone stabilization. Nothing is solved there yet, and everything can go to a certain organ, but there was the crit. This very same crit provoked a very peculiar duel between the MC and the Seers, which the MC pulled in. Mythic class, eh, and preparation, too. The MC either severed all possible threads or hid them in such a way that it was harder to find than to restore the severed one.

Preparing Hide and Seek in Reflections: 88 - with bonuses.

Then it was fun, because each hit-search of the Seers gave the MC more information about them and their methods. As a result, the MC was gradually accumulating bonuses, and then he critted (not pure, but still)!

Success, plus the extra bonus of being able to get one of the key opponents on the hook for the showdown. I don't know what happens next.

Hestia doesn't even touch the mist with a three-meter stick, studiously keeping the vice away from her associates. No comment.

Oh, also. Here.

Level 27 Seer to you in the thread: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ni9fpgbCCNWGOOu7rTHpA7BM-BoUdHrM/view?usp=sharing

Approximate appearance, only the eyes are white-white, as if blind.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/536915

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP