Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Глава 28

Chapter 28

Once we were out of Melareth's official territory, we slowed down a bit and began to come to our senses, oddly enough. Actually, the line between civilization and uncharted territory is quite blurred, but you don't have to be a clairvoyant to notice the difference. It's just that from a certain point, the very space around you began to seem like an evil and unpleasantly screeching beast to you. I had missed this point during my wanderings, taking the light pressure of the environment as the norm of the new world, but after I visited the settled territories, it somehow became noticeable.

Except for me, only Hans, who had high perception and the right class, sensed this notorious "breath of evil. Losius and Taria sensed something, but too vague to say for sure. Hestia and Ygra sensed nothing at all but it was their home here, so everything is understandable. The phenomenon of "breathing" has no reflection in the Status, and cannot be analyzed or otherwise felt, but everyone who went on raids in these territories knows about it. The feeling that you are no longer at home, that you are now a stranger yourself, yourself no longer a hunter but a prey. Veteran adventurers and raiders simply ignore this pressure, getting used to it long ago, and those who haven't yet reached the right level - though it's different for everyone - simply don't notice it. It is also known that after a certain amount of time, from a day to a month, the pressure disappears until you go back to civilization, and then return to the wilderness.

But that's all lyricism.

If anyone should be afraid, it's not we. If I were monsters and other things, I would be afraid of our company myself, and I have every reason to be. High levels, dangerous classes, two legendary artifacts in the bag, and a full-fledged Hero in my guise for dessert. This list of trump cards is enough to drive another legend, if not kill it, then drive it away. It's not that we'll look for them intentionally, but I have to assume a possible encounter.

Obviously, we didn't stop, wanting to penetrate deeper into the white zone on the maps, so even if they spot us they wouldn't be able to reach us. At least not at once or suddenly. True, we now moved more slowly, more thoughtfully, giving time for proper rest and collection of reagents, and even farmed the occasionally encountered mutt. Most of them were goblins. The very edge of the wilderness - the monsters here are weak but numerous, and also a lot of common prey, which can pump even such a feeble as goblins are.

Hestia had a lot of fun here, during which she slowly crawled up to level thirteen, having closed her second racial talent. Now she needed to level up to the fifteenth and unlock a new one, preferably a useful one. The others, though they were pumping, were more in terms of coherence and trivial experience in dealing with weak and not-too-dangerous monsters. Even Taria had already outgrown the level of mere goblins, which she could slaughter by the dozens with only minimal precautions.

In general, we trained rather than pumped. Even I was actively joining in the training, assessing my new abilities. Especially useful and most notable was the emergence of precious control. The perception limits of the shadow sphere were now a death zone - any number of insufficiently strong opponents would simply die just by being within my senses. Creating more than a hundred shadow spears and pins at once? Easy! Track every living creature within a sphere and kill them all in one go? The light difficulty, no more, and if there are no particularly armored targets, no difficulty at all!

The limit of the subtlety of influence, as well as the plasticity of shadow techniques, has also increased, allowing me to create not just nets or clouds of needles from shadows but really complex constructions. A self-compressing net around a target inside a spiky ball wrapped in a stream of shadow power, where each drop would be a separate needle, and the balls themselves would be a dozen or so. Yes, it's very complicated even now, but I can create such an attack in a short enough time to use it in combat. And the power in such a punch is so powerful that even the really dangerous guys would get sad. Roche would probably have fought back, but he was more focused on the amount and type of energy invested than on the power of the blow, recycling my attacks into material for his use. But it would not have been easy for him to reflect and absorb such a flow, and the creature from the Edge, or rather its avatar, if not dead, would certainly have received a significant blow, after which it would be easy to finish it off.

So, control of my powers was the best thing I got out of this new crisis. There was no room or desire to practice my dreaming skills, but there would be time for that. But the shadowy power I had pumped up... I'm drooling! To check, I asked Losius to shoot me with the power of Heaven and was very pleased with himself. Satisfied how? Tired and not disappointed because to be satisfied after so many kicks are masochistic.

The simple shadow shields hold the Sky very poorly, though it's been easier since I've had more control. The multi-layered, waffle-cake-like barriers did the job, reducing Losius and me to an admirable one-to-one ratio, sometimes even skewed in my favor. Especially if I was able to discard the first layers of shadow barriers at the beginning, diverting the celestial power along with the top layers. But it's worth remembering that my connection to Shadow is much higher than Losius' connection to Sky, and if I were to fight a user of the same power but of a higher rank and grade, I would be sad and painful.

But the Aegis did not let me down, working to the best of my ability and feeding my paranoia in emergency mode. Well, I can't believe in a gift that gives bonuses but no negative consequences! Life has weaned me off forever. Aegis, on the other hand... well, it presses on the brain, and the longer you use it, the more you merge, the more powerful the pressure, but that's typical of The Shadow in general. I couldn't figure out exactly where the string was attached, but until I found it, I wouldn't rest.

The skill itself looked strange - like armor, tightly wrapped around my body in a monochromatic field. At a distance of about thirty or forty centimeters, all the colors began to fade to a dark gray hue. The body itself was, according to my companions, pure black and white, closer to black, unpleasantly reminding me of the effect of the fixed contract with The Shadow. There, too, my vision was fading... The Aegis activation was inextricably linked to the Gaze, making my vision very peculiar so I couldn't look at myself.

Each blow on the Aegis felt like a very cold wind blowing-unpleasant, but no more. There was no other sensation at all, which made you feel as if you were suspended in weightlessness or frozen in time. Each blow, according to the same Losius, made certain parts of the Aegis darken, becoming really black at the moment of maximum load. And on afterburner, when I activated the Aegis at full speed while simultaneously reinforcing the Form, I turned into a charcoal-black silhouette, seemingly flat due to the active light absorption.

I suppose it is this same afterburner that is the fine print that is bound to bite me in the ass in the future. In these moments, when I not only turn my body into a Shadow but also find myself suspended in weightlessness and emptiness, my body begins to feel a savage hunger and desire to take everything. To take feelings, memory, warmth, and joy - to take everything, to keep everything, to keep nothing. For the Shadows, such a worldview is taken for granted, but when combined with near-complete sensory deprivation, the pressure is much greater. If I hadn't increased my fusion with the Form and the intensity of the Aegis gradually, I could have gotten into trouble. But as it was, I just got in a bad mood.

Whether I've found a strings or something else, I have no idea, but I'm not going to lower my paranoia.

We crawl farther and farther away from the settled land, so I finally permit to examine the legendaries I brought from the Stone, which until then were kept in insulating containers, which were at the same time scabbards. Actually, finding such an artifact is, on the one hand, much easier, for in clairvoyance, they leave very noticeable traces. But it seems so only at first sight, though there is some truth in it.

The legend of an artifact of the corresponding grade is too heavy and massive to be easily read. Trying to find an artifact, it is too easy to drown in that legend. Think about it, just imagine how many events, changes, stories, joyful victories, and bitter defeats this legend contains. Trying to feel this wave of events is possible, but getting out from under it is much more difficult. In principle, many visionaries could try, but it is to try. In order to do so, they need not simply decide, "Let's look for Valera... I mean, Valerium", but also to prepare the ground for this, and then to be able to catch not the legend, but the current position of the artifact. Difficult, very difficult, but still possible.

I think if the visionaries of Melareth had known that these two artifacts had been stolen by us rather than dissolved into the Mist, I would have had to fend off another series of searching pulses. I would have managed by simply showing them the void in response, which would have made them think these artifacts had been destroyed, but it would have been difficult, I repeat it.

In most cases, the search for really powerful artifacts, which are not additionally protected from search as well, is conducted by the "circles on the water" launched by the use of those artifacts. Exactly the use, the separately mentioned use, which happened quite recently and in the precisely marked point of reality, will be the sweetest clue. That is why I was wary of using or taking out trophy artifacts from their cases.

Now, without rushing and without fear, I was finally able to properly "feel out" these trophies with my sense in order to make the necessary conclusions. I felt, understood, thought a lot, and even made a couple of far-reaching conclusions.

Valerium, which is Valera, which is the spawn of the shit humor of the almighty System, and which was brazenly plagiarized by some dumb degenerate, well, Valerium was safe for us. I don't know how it was created, but the particle of chaos - or Chaos - that sits in it is so changeable that the trace of this weapon changes after almost every use.

Maybe I could search for it with clairvoyance, but not the Melareth Seers, whose level I've already assessed. Unless another activation of the Shoreless Eye could do the trick, but they wouldn't let them activate it on such a shaky version! They'd done enough damage to the Eye when they'd transported the elite warriors through the portals, and they nearly burnt out the mythical artifact by trying to find our group of fugitives by relying on its power. And a third time to launch an already struggling structure? I don't think they would do that because without the Stone and the two Legendaries, Melaret is a formidable opponent for all of its neighbors, and even the bigger players can't destroy it without serious losses. And if they lose the Eye, they will lose the lion's share of their advantages, which brought them to their current position.

In general, presumably - only presumably, but even this version is too shaky - they will not look for the stolen objects. At least because the probability of their disappearance in the misty clouds is much higher than the opposite.

As much as I was pleased by the Valerium, I was equally disappointed by the Golden Needle, which is a battle sword of legendary grade. If the Valerium was hard to trace and virtually undetectable, this piece of iron, soaked by the Sun and the Sky to the very top of the throat and beyond, not only phoned, it phoned like the damn number four reactor and its sister, Fukushima. No, until you do not take it out of its sheath, it's normally hidden, but the activation of the abilities in it, like the laser beam that nearly cut through the Stone and damaged something in its guts, will immediately give off a flash on the radars.

If no one will look deliberately, then nothing will happen, but with a deliberate and directed search... I'd just get tired of covering up every activation! Yes, with Dream's new skills I can hide the image of something from the clairvoyants. Yes, I'm overestimating the capabilities of these clairvoyants and the number of them, taking the maximum bar at once. But, damn it, I'm not going to risk it.

That's why Losius now has the very sad look of a child who has just been deprived of his newly given computer because "you will only play on it, you'll ruin your eyesight, and in general, what if it explodes". I felt sorry for him, honestly. Fortunately, my broken descriptions - blind to deaf, as I have repeatedly said - the mechanics of clairvoyance were enough to convey my experiences. And here are all adults, and they know the concept of caution far better than I do.

"So only in case of danger or in places where the eyes of the visionaries simply can't reach." I summed up with a wave of my hands. "After all, now you can beat most of your enemies to death with a regular stick. The new toy could be used against some particularly creepy creature, which I'm sure we'll encounter, my friend."

"T-i-i-i-i-i-i-n!" Losius either growled or sobbed. "You have a fantastic, astonishing ability to horrify the hell out of me with your attempts to soothe and comfort."

"I don't have a fucking doubt in my mind right now that we're bound to meet some powerful creature." Hans goes in without even flinching from my prophecies. "It's a fucking wilderness! There are all kinds of shit out here, and I still think I'm crazy for seriously considering hiding out here. It's worse than hiding from a flood in a burning chapel!"

"And now you say it like you know what you're talking about!" Taria got up, smelling the fresh gossip. "Come on, tell me, where have you been hiding in the burning temples?"

"What's the big deal." The tracker hesitated, clearly wanting to bite down on a long tongue, but he wouldn't give up the story.

"A spring flood caught me and my boys in the field. We were young. We were very edge, even though we had only crawled out from under our mother's skirt. Well, we hid in the old chapel abandoned by our grandfathers. We were sitting, and Tashan, the eldest of us, found a pipe and a sack of tobacco from grandfather Mahas. His granny didn't let him smoke it, but he must have been running there after fishing to get a good smoke. Well, we decided that we were grown-ups, we had mustaches, and we could smell the smoke. Only it was not tobacco, but some kind of stuff poisonous and evil. Visions began ceilings with hands, eyes on the walls, and all that. Someone foolishly threw the charcoal burner over the place. We stepped away from the parish, and look, we're fucking on fire, and there's fish in the sea. There was a flood below and flames above, and we were between them, dragging an old bucket, and trying to put the fire down. It was a miracle we survived, and then we got a scolding from our elders for the burned chapel. Stop laughing like a horse!"

Not everyone laughed, for Ygra was just asleep, not caring about our negotiations, and Hestia didn't like to laugh at all, but the rest of us managed for the five of us. In the end, having calmed down, we rested our tired bellies, which had already begun to ache from laughter. It was just nerves or something, but there was such laughter that even some strange beast came out to our parking lot. I choked him quietly with the shadows and dragged him into a small hole, sending him to The Shadow for permanent residence. No one will spoil the idyll here, even if it has two horns and a scorpion's tail!

"What a little brat with a viper's temper!" Hans spoke out, even if it wasn't angry. "You'll have to answer for your jokes and pranks someday, you little girl."

"I'm the little one?" Taria was indignant, and then she wrapped up a phrase she'd overheard somewhere. "I'm a girl? You don't have to humiliate me because I'm a mature, full-fledged individual with an established worldview and character."

"Wasn't that "full-fledged person" just last night stealing candy from the emergency stockpile!" Hans replies caustically, hiding a smirk in his mustache.

"You've been smuggling them, too, so don't blah!" She was even more indignant, embarrassed only for a second. "I'm sure because I couldn't eat that many, not even if I burst!"

"Yes, I did." The man obediently agreed, immediately going on the offensive. "But I did it quietly, and you woke everyone with your rustling, you little trifle!"

The dispute continued, dragging even Losius into its maelstrom, who tried to quietly live until some of the vanished candied fruits were blamed for his actions while Hestia only silently watched this mess from somewhere above. I could tell, without clairvoyance, what she was thinking, even if her misty face remained as impassive as ever.

If even these clowns really managed to take down Stone while slaughtering the entire elite garrison, then Melareth, and the rest of the world, really don't stand a chance.

"No, no! I won't take that crap, don't even ask for it." The tracker refused to own a revolver, not even trying to get his hands on a legendary artifact. "Even a bow is not my primary weapon, no matter what you think. And I have to learn how to use this machine all over again because I've only seen lead fires in pictures and only from a distance. This thing will do much better for small things, especially since there is much more in common between a crossbow and an arrow than between an arrow and a bow."

I shifted my gaze to Taria, who was holding the Valerium in her hands right now, clearly trying to drill a hole in it with her gaze. It wasn't that she wanted to own the thing so badly, but she certainly didn't mind it. Except, the prospect of practicing wielding it until she collapsed and a little afterward didn't inspire her one bit. Hans or even I could help her with the daggers - although her skill level was already adequate - she'd have to handle the gun herself. I'd only seen them in the movies and pictures, and I was lucky to get out of the army for health reasons (inflammation of cunningness is a serious disease, isn't it?). Now, here, a little regret because there at least learned to peel potatoes, which I still do a shitty job, despite all my dexterity. Like a curse, honestly.

"The shots will call the creatures out," Hestia murmured from above, just to remind us of this factor. "And there's a lot of things that can visit here."

"Then it will be the problems of the creatures who came, not ours," Losius suggested logically. "Most of the really powerful monsters don't just walk through the woods. Most of them could easily be wiped out by us, even without the presence of Tin, for whom the legend isn't an insurmountable problem."

"You overestimate me." I clarify, just in case, to avoid misunderstandings. "Even for me, a legendary scum would give trouble if it struck suddenly and had inconvenient properties. And it's axiomatic that legends have them."

"I'm sorry, Tin, but the statistics of your meetings with legends do not speak in their favor." The aristocrat countered with a smile. "In all seriousness, we'll certainly be wary, and we'll be ready. But most of what this terrain spews out at us won't be deadly, after all. I hope not. I really do. I just really hope so, Tin. So let's not, for laughs, go looking for another adventure, okay?"

The most offending thing was that with that last phrase, everyone looked at me in sync, even the awakened Ygra! And they were really sure that I could just do it for fun, to have another fight with some shit, changing the landscape of the surrounding forest and generally interfering with the quiet rest in the wilderness. I felt kind of bad for myself! As if I'd given them a reason to feel that way... too many times.

Valerium is a force that cannot be underestimated. Both Taria and I agreed, and even an enviously whistling Hans, who was assessing the effects of Taria's training on the surrounding landscape. All joking aside, this artifact was indeed a very unpleasant thing for anyone, even if it did have its drawbacks.

The projectile of pure chaos it released was a perfect weapon, truly perfect. The moment it struck the surface of something, the substance, difficult to discern even with my perception, took the shape and elemental aspect that was guaranteed to do the most damage to the thing, entity, or matter it struck. Trees were burned by some subtype of flame attack, rocks were crushed by corrosion or lightning, beasts were killed by the purest necrosis or the same flame, and water was simply vaporized or turned to ice. The more powerful targets, like the increasingly noisy monsters, took damage with the very force they liked the least. The result was an extremely unpleasant hit, guaranteed to kill - or at least wound - anything below twenty.

There were plenty of flaws, too, so there was no way to call the firearm an imbalance, even with a stretch or an understatement. No more imbalanced than any other legendary trinket, so to speak.

First of all, the gun was noisy, really noisy. I had heard the sound of gunshots a couple of times back on old Earth, so I know what I'm talking about. It was not much louder than those guns, but it was still louder. And by local standards, all that was missing was a fanfare and light illumination to indicate our position. Actually, noise isn't such a disadvantage since many spells create more of it with far less lethality.

Secondly, the artifact has too long a cooldown, unforgivably long, to be honest. I've said it before, and I'll say it again - at high levels, one second equals a couple of eternities. And in a regular fight, too, that kind of delay is too long to count on a second shot. That is, in a serious fight, Taria would only have to shoot once and then grab her daggers and start dancing around the wounded monster if he was still wounded! No one canceled the premonition of danger and other skills that too many monsters used easily and skillfully.

Some mutant bobcat not only dodged the shot but also moved sharply closer to Taria, nearly ripping her throat open with its claws. If she hadn't had her titles, she would have had to be rescued, otherwise, she was fine. But she was exhausted, spent most of her energy creating doubles and tricks, and hurt her elbow joint when she tried to parry a clawed paw too hard.

The third and most distressing was the problem of the reserve, which this artifact inexorably siphoned off with each shot. It would not seem to be the greatest expense, but these costs are constant, requiring regular repetition. One or two shots did not bring the skill to the master, so the Dancer had to exhaust herself to the limit of exhaustion (I did not allow it further because it was dangerous and harmful) time after time.

She grumbled and complained, but she did.

Hestia got level fifteen after strangling some unlucky tree-like monster that resembled a bush that stood on two legs in a tight embrace. Actually, the creature was quite unpleasant for anyone who preferred melee combat, as it had uncharacteristically many racial talents, as for level twenty-three.

This nasty thing, the poisonous thorny walker, was obscenely toxic and, at the same time, extremely survivable. Even if its opponents survived the first embrace of its twigs, they died very quickly from a dozen different mixtures. Apparently, each branch produced a different type of poison: debilitating, slow, instantaneous, paralyzing, and more. Add to that the ability to shoot its spines, the ability to use clusters of berries (which looked exactly like rowan berries) as gas grenades, and the ability to entangle its prey by its roots, and you get a rough idea of the monster.

For his level, he was practically invincible, and for many of the "elders" he would have been an unrecoverable pain in the ass. Either it was an offspring of some very strong creature, or he was just lucky enough to win more talents from the system gacha. Either way, it did him no good at all, for as dangerous as this weed was against material creatures of flesh and bone, it was powerless against Hestia.

Fifteenth level, a new open talent, and just a reason to feel good. Basically, the talent there was such that it was much better than any celebration for Hestia.

I look at Hestia standing before me and admire the carefully restrained emanations of happiness and joy that she gives off. Without clairvoyance, I wouldn't have noticed any changes, but that's what I need it for, to recognize even the little things that I can't notice.

Hestia's talent was not martial but rather camouflage and infiltration, which automatically made her, as a monster, even more dangerous and terrifying by local standards. The ability to pretend to be normal people was an application for a fast-growing personal graveyard. Such individuals very rarely just live in the wilderness, not touching anyone. But finding and tracking down a mysterious killer is always difficult and dangerous for those who are looking. Actually, paranoia and mutual suspicion often kill far more people than the beast itself.

Losius even briefly retold the plot of a book he had read during his adventures in the capital, where twelve aristocrats from families in strained relations with each other were trapped in the same manor, together with a mimicry-like monster. The creature itself left that manor after the very first murder (which is revealed at the very end), but people still killed each other off: some were looking for the murderer, some were settling personal scores on the sly, and some were saving themselves from the former and the latter. A classic of local literature, unobtrusively hinting at the need to forget your arguments for the duration of critical situations if you do not wish tragedy for everyone and yourself in the first place.

Hestia looked... like an ordinary woman, only very pale and somehow wrong. The first division of the talent masked her frankly badly, even though it gave her flesh and an almost human body. But it did not deceive the sensory skills, for even Taria could sense something in her, though she possessed none at all. For me, her nature was as obvious as ever. But Hestia herself was incredibly happy to be able to touch, taste, and move her joints again. The joints were strange, though, and the taste and touch were barely perceptible, but that was only the first degree.

The only thing that bothered her was the lack of suitable clothes and the need to wear the second set provided by Taria. The sizes didn't differ much, for Hestia was only a little taller and broader in the shoulders, but the foreignness of the clothes was palpable. Actually, her talent allowed her to make clothes out of Mist, but the woman deliberately did not do so, wanting to stay in as human a form as possible. And what humanity is there if your dress is really a part of yourself?

Once again, I reread the Status that was sent to me with the second talent closed and the new one opened, nodding my thoughts in satisfaction. It's a really nice bonus, which simplifies a lot of things. At the very least, there's no need to leave Hestia hanging around with Yggra if we decide to enter a city. Strong scanners will notice her, of course, but it's a matter of time and preparation, not something fundamentally impossible.

Shroud of Mist: 5/5

Allows you to create and control mist over a large area, giving it special properties; allows you to use the mist as the basis for concealment and masking fields; allows you to be transported through the mist, leaving the usual spectrum of space; allows you, with costs, to give mist some of the properties of the Mist; allows you to gradually sink a reality area filled with mist closer to the Mist, gaining advantages in that area; allows you to slightly distort perception and space metrics for those trapped in mist, preventing them from leaving.

Flesh of Mist: 1/4

Allows you to encapsulate your own body into a vessel of pseudo-density that has some of the properties of the material body; has some external differences from the normal human body; the disguise can be revealed by scanning skills above the standard grade.

I look at Raimel standing in a military stance, grinning happily and watching the answering, pinched smile on her pale lips. Well, it does make me feel good that the System has decided to get on my nerves alone and shows a little leniency toward the rest of the crew.

"Welcome back to the ranks of anthropomorphs, Hestia." I can't help but laugh. "I'm glad you're doing well."

"Thank you, Tin, your words mean a lot to me." She replies with the standard polite phrase, even though the pattern is now very sincere. "Would you treat the new fighter with dinner since my taste buds seem to have reappeared?"

"Hey, Tin, what did you call us?" Taria spoils the solemnity of the moment. "Aropomorphic or something? Sounds like some kind of demon's name, to be honest."

We stare at Taria in silence, which is why a normal person would have been embarrassed, especially since both Raimel and I can have very, very piercing stares. But Taria's a chafing girl; she doesn't lay bricks; she opens a brick factory in other people's pants. So she meets our gazes with ease and clearly has hopes of winning a game of peek-a-boo. I have my suspicions that she can even pull this game off against a cat, which I used to think was impossible. But her dreams of a sweet victory were interrupted by a fatherly slap from Hans, who immediately answered the question she asked.

"You fool, even I know that!" And in his voice, there was sincere boasting for his erudition. "An anthropomorphic is one with two arms, two legs, a torso, and a muzzle like a human. Humans, orcs, elves, goblins, and even the green ones are all anthropomorphic. And now Hestia, too, this one, the morphic, in short."

We glanced at each other with Hestia again and sighed in unison. Some people don't need to be corrected because only a school education, which they lack, will help.

We continued to move slowly deep into the wilderness, having decided to leave the last parking lot at a brisk pace. I couldn't say that the increasingly frequent creatures that came were dangerous to us, for I hardly even had to intervene, and the only monster of epic grade and thirty-second level Ygra had killed before I could even get to it. The huge rat-like creature was dangerous by its appearance, and the Dark energy within it could have caused problems, but the ogre was unaware of its opponent's toughness, ripping off first the tail, which the creature, sensing the threat at the last moment, was trying to fight off, and then the head.

The rat was examined, tongues clucked in admiration, claws clawed, teeth pulled, blood drained, and then given back to the hunter. The ogre herself tasted the meat, but she wouldn't even eat the heart, it was so stained with filth. I would have taken the heart, for it was a valuable reagent, but I didn't want to take it from the ogre at first, and then it just melted away in a cloud of blackness. Well, it didn't work.

It wasn't until about the next morning after the rat's death that I began to feel a phantom itch all over my body, indicating that trouble was coming. And, for a change, the target of these problems was not us but the place we were staying. The threat was strong, but not all-encompassing, so we could have tried to meet it fully armed... but it was decided by a general vote to take it easy for now. We can start hunting for big prey at any time, but we are not yet ready enough. I personally thought otherwise, but I did not argue with my comrades-in-arms and began to pack for the road.

I probed with my intuition for the image of the crawling beast, finding it quite acceptable for this wacky world. The creature reeked of rot and poison, of stale earth and the beastly stench of rage and blindness. It was not a legend but just a very strong and old epic that had accumulated power for decades, if not centuries. For me, the decisive argument for avoiding combat was the nature of our possible opponent: we would have to confront a huge, ancient, and deadly poisonous overgrown mole. And, as luck would have it, we have no one guaranteed to repel the threat from beneath the ground.

I would have easily escaped by surrounding myself with shadow defenses or even simply by creating a full-fledged rift under my feet which the mole would have fallen into. Except that I am not alone, but in the company, and the Shadow for this company will be even more dangerous than for the mole. That was why I agreed to retreat, though I had thought until late in the evening of the night of sneaking back out and nailing the beast for the sake of experience and possible reagents. But we had gone too far, and there would have had to fight with a half-empty reserve, so I abandoned another suicidal plan.

By the way, the creep coming to the place of the last camp had an amazing nose for dead things, which it could smell for several day's walks, and we had plenty of corpses there, deliberately luring in the new training dummies with them. We were luring them in, however, as if by order!

The visions slowly subsided, but I still picked up some useful information, among the tons of information garbage that I had to sift through. For example, I got a very clear vision of how this mole had once (forty years ago) fought a huge insectoid mantis, eager to devour a bug. The bug lost a wing and a pair of legs, but the mole survived only by burrowing deeper and thanks to its great survivability - the poison had no effect on the insect, and the powerful front claws were still inferior to the mantis' flaming toxic green cutters.

Or, here's a fun fact: the mole can get some percentage of the stats of a corpse eaten. And it's a corpse, and also stale, and not necessarily personally killed. The percentage there is small, and the chance itself is small, but it is clear how he reached such a level and power, eating almost only carrion.

My head buzzes a little, but it passes quickly, and the pain is less and less: my skill level is already sufficient for me not to suffer regular pains and bleeding. I wish I had a more detailed list of the mole's talents - so far, I've only seen claw enhancement and poison-acid exhalation, and super-fast digging - but that's all I've got. And we ran away from the battle anyway, so don't waste energy on foolishness. When it comes close again, I'll think about it, but right now I'd rather look for dangers along the way than waste my energy on this bullshit.

The vessel of essence is almost full, and I fill it with the most valuable and saturated concepts, not some trifle. It is much easier to find the really valuable reagents here in the Wildlands. I found eight epic flowers alone (five of them of the same species), enriching my collection and somewhat pleasing my inner hamster. Although, who am I lying to about having that hamster? I didn't give a shit about loot and treasures, and I still don't give a shit about them.

In any case, there is less and less time until I have to stop and work properly with the Alchemic class. And our progress is slowing down. A couple of times I led our group away from possible encounters with orc tribes, which I didn't want to waste time on. First, we need to find a new camp, get a foothold, and then we can go on a raid.

I'm even thinking about ordering Hestia to use the Mist of Corruption and give an individual tribe of greenhorns a porno apocalypse. Not for the sake of lulz, though not without it, but to know the limits of this talent, to be able to track the effects, and just out of interest. Besides, if anything happens, we could use the opportunity to get a personal tribe in the depths of the wilderness that could serve as a support base. I don't want to play civilization and be a progressor, but having a place to flee to in case of some epic collapse wouldn't be out of place.

It is possible to leave in such a place a single mirror, which will serve as an evacuation portal for our company. For now, such plans are just plans, but I'm either quickly dropping them from the list of plans, or they're starting to come to fruition. We'll see if something comes out.

We'd set up the new camp at the site of an old, very old battle, where they'd clearly used higher-order fire magic combined with some very cunning swordsman skills - my gut wouldn't lie. That same gut feeling told me that it wasn't a pile of rocks but a huge rock the size of a nine-story building that had melted during the battle and collapsed, shattering in the process.

No, I can, in principle, replicate something like that and even do something on a larger scale, but still, it's impressive, it's impressive. Two monsters (really monsters: an orcish shaman and some kind of stone-iron thing with a dozen bladed arms) pretty much changed the landscape of the surrounding area back then. But now, only a few subtle details reminded me of the battle. It was because of one of these details I had chosen this place to camp. No, it had all the right conditions, but with that detail, it was perfect.

This detail was a rock, about three meters high, whose surface had once been cut very, very smoothly and then melted down just as smoothly, becoming a kind of mirror. The years have not turned the mirror stone into dust, have not covered the reflective surface with moss and cracks, and have not dropped it so that it is impossible to look into the reflection. The perfect tool for the user of the Dream in my face.

"Make a camp a little aside, so my experiments don't hurt you." I dismiss my comrades' questions. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

I wasn't lying - I came even faster, jumping over Shadow and helping with dinner and setting up the grounds while also sending Yggra to get meat for the banquet. This is where we'll stay for a long time.

"Look, Tin." Taria looks as trustworthy as possible, which makes me immediately suspect some kind of trickery. "How far is it from here to that underground city you showed me in your dreams? You know, where you and the undead fought."

"Four or five weeks if I don't slow down for a long time. Why do you ask" I answer while grabbing another piece of boar's leg. It's turned out to be amazingly tender today.

"Since you've already been there and you've kicked its inhabitants, why don't you go there and take me with you?" She asks with the look of a child begging for candy from a strict parent. "There must be plenty of no man's goods there!"

To my surprise, Losius and Hans did not start looking at the girl strangely, which only convinced me that this time she had at least talked about her ideas with her comrades beforehand. To be honest, I can even understand them - this episode with the Specter and its "games" was just one for me, while they clearly harbored a considerable grudge against the creature. Now, when our forces already allow us to seriously assume a confrontation with such a creature, if not on equal terms, then not without a chance of victory, they are very eager to give the scum a puff. To change its undead status, so to speak, to a full and complete definition of "corpse".

I can not say that I do not share their desires because trolling is trolling, but I would like the old-fashioned way to clean the face of the insolent ghost of the legendary grade so that it glitters. Except...

"We can't afford it." I categorically reject the offer. "I can still try to kill the creature from the pond. It seems unintelligent, and it's not suited to counteracting fast mages who can move through other realms. But the Specter... I'm sorry, guys, but I'm not pulling it out yet. Maybe later, but not yet. I regularly have situations where I'm pulling at the last drops of my strength, but I don't want to get into that kind of hell again."

"We'll be with you, Tin, and my powers will categorically oppose the undead, no matter how powerful and ancient they may be." Losius objected. "Add to that the power of the potions you've created, and our chances increase. I'm not trying to tempt you into adventure, mind you, but still... I have too much hate in my heart for that scum."

"For some reason, you think the Specter is a common creature, unreasonable and predictable, but it's not so," I said calmly and confidently, giving away my line. "He's undead, ancient, and very, very smart. He must have a lot of toys he's collected that he can use against us. And I don't mean artifacts alone, gentlemen and ladies, far from it. You, I see, are already building a picture of the possible battle, for some reason believing that we will fight a single undead creature, gradually squeezing it and waiting for the moment for the decisive blow. But I think he's sensing our strength and understanding our level, and he'll quickly summon all the undead to his side."

I still planned to continue the explanation, but my listeners are not fools either, so they quickly understood what I was hinting at. It's hard not to understand if my hints are as thick as the lithospheric plates.

"Last time he met us alone, only he brought some gladiators." Losius' face twists in displeasure, furious at his blunder, but clearly, he doesn't find it fatal. "Yeah, I admit I didn't think he could summon more minions. But we can use his vows, Tin. Challenge him, not the undead, but him. I doubt he'd be able, or even willing, to turn down the chance to get back at us. And the divine curse is a strong argument in favor of accepting the challenge."

I thought about it, noting at the same time that I'd made the typical mistake of an isekai - I thought the locals were dumber than I was. In this aspect, Losius is right because if we come to challenge the creature to a fight. It will not be able to refuse. And it will even be forced to fight fairly even though it will probably try to cheat.

In a different situation, this ghostly scoundrel would probably take full advantage of the territory. He would have thrown hordes of undead at us, simultaneously attacking from blind spots, flying out of walls, launching super-powerful point-blank strikes and disappearing back, and using his main weapon in every way he could. This is about brains, which, though rotten long ago, haven't lost their intelligence. In such a situation, I could just run, but the undead is pretty neutered in terms of the options available to them.

Here, Losius calculated correctly - we have a real chance of success. But it's too dangerous. An aristocrat can really deal damage to a ghost, and probably just as much damage as I can, thanks to the "light" direction of his powers. That is if the Specter doesn't have something like my Aegis, which allows you to ignore any damage, even if it's specifically sharpened against your realm energy users. But even without that. We're forgetting one more little thing: unlike me, Losius has no defense at all. I can dodge. I can put up a hard layered barrier, and I can take a hit on an aegis or a summoned Shadow. He can only die - the spatial techniques available to him are too weak, and he has an insufficient affinity with Sky to take the blows of a (non)living legend as his defense.

In fact, that's what I told them, trying to be gentle about it. You guys are tough, of course, but don't get too cocky. It's one thing to fight ordinary people, even if they're elite and well-trained. But a legendary creature that even Heroes wouldn't usually go at alone. That's another level of threat. Then, later, we'll go back to the Spectre for a visit and just beat it into the ground raw, even without the extra reinforcements of a contractual curse binding it. For now, pump yourselves up, my friends, and don't make a fuss.

The conversation ended with the embarrassed silence of those around me, who accepted my words calmly and measuredly. Perhaps because they were used to the fact that people can make mistakes, perhaps because of their professionalism, or maybe it was my heroic title that allowed me to say the bad news as smoothly as possible. All the more so because I didn't cancel the whole operation, "Tattered Pride," only postponed it to different timelines and levels. One thing you can be sure of is that the levels will be obtained with assurance.

Losius sparred against Hans and Taria at the same time, Ygra and Hestia went hunting in Little Red Riding Hood style (Hestia walks through the forest, attracting predators, and the evil Ygra crushes those who come, like kittens), and Kostik decided to finally work with the mirror, which he so fortunately inherited from the unknown combatants.

Actually, there was a choice between Alchemy and Dreams, but I honestly flipped a coin. Since I didn't want to flip again, I went straight to work, promising myself that my pranks shouldn't change the political environment... on too large a scale. To tell me that I would ever keep away from those pranks would be overly deceitful, yes.

I decided to start with the old acquaintances I'd met on my way through Alurei, and there were quite a few of them. Not that I cared about their fate, but if I could do a good (or bad) thing and have a good laugh, why the hell not? That's what I thought.

The first thing that came to mind was the little brat number one, whose name I had already safely lost in my memory space. I was so concentrated that it took me two seconds to remember his name, but I really didn't give a shit about the guy. I chose him simply because he clearly had some kind of protection on him that could be circumvented by practicing this kind of trickery.

The kid was asleep, pressed tightly against the naked chocolate girl, who just wasn't asleep, just staring ahead of her while breathing measuredly so as not to wake up her ward. The black-skinned bitch was good-looking after all, which even made me want to make some kind of mischief for the guy, but I changed my mind. I looked around and got a lot of unrelated information about his training and training as a professional schemer, and I left in silence, putting the girl to sleep while I gave her some very frivolous dreams so she wouldn't suffer from insomnia.

Second, I found a couple of adventurers I knew: a drunken master of destruction, under whose guise I had joked several times, and a vaguely recognizable lady who even slept in some strange hat. Both were sitting in armchairs, napping while waiting to be paid for their last order, which is why I was able to find them so easily. The lady had interesting dreams, too, though I hadn't put any of that in! And these dreams were directed solely at the drunken master himself... who was reading romantic poetry to his beloved, holding her hand and letting her know in every way how much he loved her. But there wasn't even a gram of eroticism, which I didn't tolerate. Since she's a crush on him, here are a couple of... dozens of scenarios for all tastes.

A romantic date in dreams slowly turns into equally romantic pleasures in bed, and I anchor the scenarios in the girl's mind, guaranteeing a variety of relationships in subsequent dreams. No outside influence, no influence at all, but she will blush very noticeably. Especially if he decides to wake her up right in the middle of another racy scene. He's already been trained, so he'll probably be able to dodge the blows and run away. Monks, in general, are very resilient assholes, so I have faith in him.

At Losius' house, everything was fine: the gold their prodigal son had left behind was put to work, and the estate itself was slowly blossoming. Even several new workshops had opened when experts from the Craft Guilds arrived to fulfill the contract. Soon this cozy valley would be in full bloom, and the largest of the villages would gain city status. All the conventions were still in place there, lacking only official permission from the royal chancellery and a couple of little things, like the height of the town hall.

I sent good dreams to those who were asleep, and I gave the troublemakers and those who wanted to steal a few things for their own good, for Holan intended to have a few of them hanged to teach them better, and I only discouraged those who had not yet stolen anything. And I found a band of human scum in the hills, hired by one of the neighbors to slaughter a small and inconspicuous caravan of guild artisans so that the insolent Asterium would not spoil its monopoly on the high-quality ware that was sold in the barony of the hirer.

I was a little too busy thinking, so I made the thugs slaughter each other - I just brought the conflict to a maximum and made them have a royal fight. In the end, everyone was finished off by the squad sorcerer, blowing himself up with a fireball at the same time. The dead ringleader was no fool and had managed to get some dirt on his employer, so when Holan's retainers found the scene of the massacre, they'd know exactly who had sent the thugs there and for what purpose. It is unlikely that the old knight would engage in open conflict, for conflict is unprofitable, but now he would know who to fear and why. He had guessed before, but now he will know for sure.

I found some of the caravan neighbors in which Taria and I had left the Kraj. Some got along better, some worse, but all in all, it turned out okay for most of them. I helped a little unlucky tutor who had been teaching Taria to write and read in my dreams without even remembering it. He was now a crush on one of the maids working for a wealthy merchant who had hired him to teach his sons to read and write. The girl herself, though, did not mind doubting the somewhat clumsy man beside her, hesitating to accept the advances.

I gave her a little nudge, allowing her to see the positive traits of the fool in love. If he starts to be an asshole, this influence will not save him from being sent to hell. I don't doubt him, though, for his feelings are as plain as the palm of my hand. I added to the children's desire to learn and unwillingness to be naughty, trying not to do anything dangerous, and left the tutor alone. Let's consider that I paid him back for the individual lessons with the dancer.

I also found a spice merchant who was a sadistic bastard but hadn't fucked up his morals yet. I found him, but the sight that opened was a fucking disaster. The cramped closet, the semi-darkness, the hot breath, and other fun things. And then there was the dinner party in his own house, which was going on behind the wall right now, and the mother-daughter couple having fun with their toy. Servants who, while still servants, have long since become mistresses to their employer.

The ladies gradually began to lose their bearings. Actually, now that the daughter was holding the boy tightly (he could have broken free, but the settings in his brain made it impossible to break his not-so-strong grip), and the milf-mother was giving the poor man a good hand job, scolding him that he had looked at the white-haired bitch he had recently danced with for no good reason. Just a little bit more, and she will cross that line. I seem to have put up a clear barrier between their amusement, the danger of exposure, and the effect on the merchant's working relations, but the girls seem to have loosened it a little. They don't realize, frankly, what trouble they're making to their plaything. But even without getting caught, sending a guy to continue the party in semen-stained clothes, in which he will return to the very "white-haired bitch," the daughter of the important partners... might not end well.

I quickly scrolled through their memories, but I didn't find anything critical to the guy. The couple of times they'd been caught don't count because it wasn't all clear that it wasn't the boy who had molested the maids but the other way around. But now the risk is much higher. I'd put the odds at about one in five that this whole mess in the closet could backfire on the guy. The odds aren't very high, but if this kind of thing happens regularly, it won't be good.

I had to urgently correct the influence on the minds of all three of them, and at the same time, I applied a whole construct of Dreams that would subtly draw attention away from the strangeness going on in this house. Now the ladies can tyrannize their personal master-slave right in the central hall, covering the process of jerking off with their skirts. No one will pay any attention to it. And the same "bitch" will calmly come up and talk to the barely restrained moaning guy without wondering why his slaves are with him, what are the movements under a pile of cloth, why the master of the house is twitching and breathing heavily, and all that. The sadist himself, who is no longer a sadist, will be very uncomfortable, and the fear of disclosure will add not just a peppercorn but a bucket of chili pepper to his relationship with his maids.

But outside the house, the activity of these beauties will be greatly reduced, virtually eliminating the possibility of trouble or disclosure. I am so good. I'm worrying about the privacy of others. Later, if I am in the mood, I will reduce the degree of mockery over the poor man because for his sins, if he has not paid, then he was close to it. In the meantime, let them rejoice in their new opportunities, young people.

Cascades of faces.

Myriads of reflections.

Other people's experiences, other people's lives, and other people's destinies flashed before me in an unstoppable stream. I searched for those I had once seen, however briefly, while simultaneously finding many new identities. I did not look for any complications, not even particularly influential targets, limiting myself to rich merchants, middle-class officials, and petty aristocrats at most. I took quality by quantity, practicing my skills on the simplest of targets. Part of it was fun, but only part because I was really getting better and better and better, turning the lines of Status into full-fledged skills that I had really mastered.

For dessert, I checked on my very first victims of experimentation, a pair of a trader and her assistant, originally from Ostmark. Right now, the trader was jumping on top of the boy sitting on a chair, forcing him to rest his face on her back while reading some important paper of an unknown nature. The guy could only breathe on her back while his working organ was in his boss's ass. The saleswoman herself sometimes lowered one hand to play a little with her suffering from loneliness pussy as well, but only sometimes - a second hole was enough for regular orgasms. The guy had only to hold on, for he was expressly forbidden to stop before his time, and his endurance, even with potions, was not much, for he put everything into perception.

And the saleswoman had less than twenty-four hours to live.

When I escorted the small aristocrat and his guards out of Ostmark, I already assumed that there would be a storm in the city when the heads of those in power began to be removed. I was quite right, but I did not take into account a few details. Because of the loss or dismissal of many of the bigwigs, a lot of traders lost patronage, which made it much more difficult to maintain partnerships with companions, and the secret guards began to ask questions. It was here that the star of the merchant rose, right now cumming for the umpteenth time.

When one of the out-of-town buyers was once again fed a "tomorrow" about the goods he was interested in, he thought and thought and went looking for someone who had no problems with the authorities at the moment. This lady - her name is Lenda, by the way - was not the biggest, but due to her lack of many connections, she was not affected by the shake-up in the magistrate's office. She was able to find goods in the warehouses, giving almost double the markup just in case, but her goods were bought anyway. The first was followed by the second and third, and there and even began to go to her first, gradually forgetting the old but so unreliable and greedy (her markup is double, and those are triple) partners.

Lenda proved to be clever and quick, making quick arrangements with the owners of the warehouses where the foreign and stale goods lay for the purchase of these goods. The owners, who no longer hoped to see any money at all, spat on the possible consequences of the wealthy having fallen from Olympus and sold, even at a discount.

And when the deputies and deputy deputies of the surviving high-league dealers were able to figure out who was who and who should bow three times, a new player entered their market, who had even managed to get some support from the new upper echelons. She did not respond to requests to go away and stay away from the adults, nor did she react to overt threats, so they decided to eliminate her.

The bribed cook had already added a slow-acting poison to the lady's snack, and the snack itself would arrive in a few minutes. By morning, while everyone is running around the body of the deceased looking for someone to blame, all her gains will have been shared. And the guards will not find anyone beforehand fortunately, some of the connections are still available.

No, that's not the way things are done.

The servant carrying the poison suddenly stumbled, splashing it all over the corners and getting punched in the teeth by his superior. The cook, who had already been counting the reward (unaware that he would receive a feather in the side instead), first went pale and then wheezed and collapsed with a heart attack. A couple of overly brazen deputy deputies didn't wake up. Another one was killed by his slave girl. She somehow threw off the influence of the slavemancer, grabbing all the nearby valuables in an armful and jumping out the open window (I will have to follow up if she can take the chance I gave her and run away). The fourth suddenly threw off the submission of his mistress, who turned out to be a level twelve Seductress, of which his head of security, the Inquirer, knew but was in on it.

+++++++++
The result was a massacre in which all three died. The fifth simply walked out of the second-floor window, head down, and snapped his neck - a suicide, the guards, who this time will really look for the murderer, will state in the morning. The sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth, who knew about the attempt but did not themselves take part - their interests were not impeded in advance by the deceased - found out in the morning that the victim was alive, but somehow the murderer was not. They were a little stumbled from the knowledge they discovered, deciding to be very, very polite in the future and not to argue with the bloody bitch and her incomprehensible patrons. Especially since, as mentioned, she did not interfere with their interests.

Lenda herself, who had been snapping at the assistant with great frequency because of the nervousness of the past weeks, fucked him almost every minute they were alone. The directives in her brain had not changed - to scold and reprimand the bastard only during the fuck, which came after the code phrase. In public, the guy still tolerated it, but in private his mouth independently and against his will say the trigger after the first insult. So they were both having fun, especially after I refined their behavioral bombs during my second visit to Ostmark. I also gave the saleswoman a boob enlargement.

They will know about what happened tomorrow, and they will understand a lot because they are not fools. I made sure that this shark of capitalism would not bite off more than she could chew. I also made sure she would stop overwhelming herself and her "kind of lover" into a continuous marathon. But she will have questions in her head, there is no doubt.

Except that every time she starts to think about it, she will suddenly want to suck a dick, which she will immediately do, and after sex - not with one blowjob - she will not remember her suspicions for at least ten more hours. Then she will remember, just as she will remember, that she suddenly wanted to give her assistant a blowjob, after which she unbelievably abruptly stopped thinking about the subject. But the memory will make her want to do it again... to forget and remember again a little later.

Let's consider that I passed the exam on working with the brain and memory, and the lady herself paid the price for her excessive greed (she knew that she could be killed, or rather, that she was guaranteed to be killed, but she could not help herself) and the subsequent miraculous salvation.

I fell asleep with a sense of accomplishment and a pleasantly aching thin body after a good workout. Though my companions, looking at my satisfied face, involuntarily shuddered and moved away from the pebble-mirror. Only Hestia and Ygra showed respectful composure, but the ogre was too stupid, and Hestia probably hadn't gotten used to the kind of shtick I could pull off yet.

They understand nothing!

I am Cupid... green but effective.

A smile never left my lips, even in my sleep.

* * *

Authors note:

16 shits.

I added five points to Hestia, so she now has a normal (relatively) body. Being in this form makes her vulnerable and eats up her reserves, but she can tolerate it, unlike being an immaterial piece of fog.

There were a lot of rolls, but only the merchant was lucky, who was saved literally an hour before she died.

They also missed the creature I'd prepared in advance. It took too long to get there, and then the team showed good sense.

They decided not to touch the Specter for now, but anything is possible in the future.

There's no time, I have to run.

Proofread is not today, nor are the answers.

Good luck and have a nice weekend.

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