Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: 2. Глава 2

Chapter Two. Awakening of the Hero of the Elf Queen
* * *

//...All that was left was a blinding white light.....

After blinking several times, Cyril opened his eyes. And the first thing he saw was a high-light ceiling, decorated with paintings in the floral style. And the first thing he felt was an incredible lightness in his whole body, especially in his head. Having stretched properly, Kirill yawned sweetly. He hadn't slept so well in a long time... DAMN IT!

He seemed to voice the last thought aloud as he tried to jump to his feet. And he failed. Because Cyril found himself lying on a luxurious double bed, made up of silk linens. Besides that, the freshman student realized two other things. First, he was in a bedroom larger than his parents' entire apartment. And furnished with such luxurious furniture that even modest provincial chiefs of the traffic police would envy. The second thing Cyril realized was that he was not alone in the bedroom.

It would have been hard not to notice the nearly two dozen people lined up in a semicircle in front of his bed, though. No, no, no, no, no, no. Not people. Or rather, not just people. In the center and slightly in front stood a tall and very beautiful woman, with a commanding face, long platinum hair down to her waist, bright emerald eyes, and long pointed ears. She was dressed in a luxurious white and emerald dress with a deep neckline that perfectly emphasized her high breasts and slender waist. On her forehead, she wore a silver hoop adorned with sparkling emeralds. At one glance at her, Cyril's mind had a clear association with the character of Cate Blanchett, played magnificently by her in the cult films of Peter Jackson especially if the latter was making an adult version of Lord of the Rings, if not worse.

Flanked by this Ero-Galadriel, stood several other elves and elf-women. The latter were outnumbered. They were dressed in no less magnificent dresses than their superior, emphasizing their slender and seductive figures. But it was clearly felt that their outfits were still a little less luxurious. One of them, standing just behind Galadriel 18+, held a staff of white wood and had a jeweled tiara on her forehead. At the very edges stood several people dressed in black and white robes. Literally classic maid and butlers. But only if the costumes of the latter were impeccably strict, the maids' dresses were not modest at all. It turned out almost classic very beautiful and erotic maids. Looking at them, you instinctively expect a slight French accent. And all those gathered looked attentively at Cyril, who sat in bed. And he looked at them.

No way.

Realizing that he had also said it out loud, the freshman student twitched fearfully. However, the crowd did not seem to understand his words. Or pretended not to. Some of them looked at each other warily, and the very adult version of Galadriel standing in front of them stared at Cyril and asked slowly, separating the words clearly:

"Honorable Cyril, do you understand my words?"

"Uh... Yeah, I'll un...derstan...d..."

Even before he finished speaking, Kirill realized that he wasn't speaking Russian. It was clearly a different language, but it felt like his own. After another moment, Cyril realized that he was thinking in this language too. But the native language now felt like English for some reason. Apparently, the thought process was reflected too clearly on his face, because the elfess raised her right hand up, putting her palm in front of her, and said:

"Please, honorable Cyril, remain calm. I realize you must be in great confusion right now and do not understand what is happening. I will try to explain everything to you, but please remain calm and listen to me carefully."

There was something in her voice that didn't even make Cyril think of challenging what she said. Nodding hastily, the student replied:

"Okay! I mean, good. I'm listening to you very carefully, your... majesty."

With a barely perceptible smile at the corners of her lips, the elfess still spoke in the same incredibly convincing and calm voice:

"Forgive me, circumstances have forced me to disregard traditional etiquette. Allow me to introduce myself. Sivila, daughter of Theanar, of the House of the Misty Tree. By human standards, I might be considered an Elven queen. You may use “your majesty” if you prefer, but “honorable” is also acceptable."

Listening attentively to what appeared to be “Not-Galadriel,” Cyril nodded quickly:

"I hear you, honorable Sivila."

The elfess nodded briefly in response and continued:

"In that case, I ask you again, honorable Cyril, to remain calm and listen to me. This may not be easy for you to believe. Right now you are in the Royal Palace, in the heart of the Forest Kingdom of the Elves."

"You mean, believe that I'm in another world?" The student guessed, “Well, it's really not easy to believe. I've read a lot of legends and stories about such heroes, though, and they were very popular in my world. But it's one thing to read completely fictional stories and another thing to go to another world yourself."

Sivila's expression changed to one of sympathetic concern, and she raised her hand palm-first in front of her again:

It's more complicated and disturbing than that, honorable Cyril. Now it seems to you that you have just communicated with the goddess who chose you, and then you came here. But, in fact, you have been in our world for quite some time. It could very well be decades ago.

"Eh... What do you mean?"

"Elven warriors have discovered you in the lair of a very powerful and dangerous mage."

The elven queen made a smooth and graceful gesture with her hand, and a three-dimensional image appeared in the air beside her. Just like a hologram in fantasy movies. Staring his eyes out, Cyril saw himself floating in the air above some stone altar. Completely naked and surrounded by some glowing symbols, as if he were a character from a computer game. And around him stood several elves in armor. After waiting a few seconds, Sivila continued:

"The magician, in whose lair we found you, is very powerful and skillful in the most insidious games with the minds of his victims. Which makes him doubly dangerous. And yet, until recently, almost no one knew anything about him. Even we elves learned of his existence only recently and literally by accident. Such a thing was simply impossible, and yet it was. However, now we guess what the reason for his power was, and how he managed to gain it without attracting attention. We believe that he was able to somehow obtain the power given to you, Cyril."

"Uh... What do you mean?!" Turning away from his image, Cyril turned back to the elf queen with a shocked face, "But... But... But how?! I just..."

"Please, honorable Cyril, remain calm! You're perfectly safe now. No one is accusing you of anything. What I've said is only the speculation of our masters of magic. But even if it turns out that their assumptions are correct, no one will blame you for what that wizard did, using the power given to you, what my people call the Tablet of the Soul. You are as much a victim of his perfidy as many of my brothers and sisters. And you don't remember anything, honorable Cyril, most likely because he took possession of the artifact given to you by the goddess."

The student involuntarily twitched and clutched his chest. Of course, the gold-ringed glass ball was not there. Only a snow-white shirt of silky fabric. Raising his eyes back to Sivila, Cyril felt the fear gradually growing in his chest.

"Uh, are you sure? Well, I mean, I mean... There's a way to fix it, or... I don't know, somehow understand...."

The Queen raised both hands:

"Honorable Cyril, please calm down. You are safe now. Listen to me."

Taking a step forward, the elfess looked at the student carefully, her aristocratic face taking on a caring expression:

"After we found you, our best magicians examined you. Among other things, they looked into your mind. They found no traces of another's will, but they did notice many gaps in your memory. Some of your memories have been stolen, and we can't get them back. I ask you to forgive us for this unceremonious interference on our part, but it was necessary given where you were found. We did not know who you were or what great mission you were sent to our world on."

Licking his sharply parched lips, Cyril swallowed and managed to squeeze himself out:

" I mean... And how long was I... well... captive....."

A sympathetic expression appeared on the queen's face and caring intonations appeared in her voice:

"We don't know that for sure, honorable Cyril. We can only assume that you came to our world several decades ago. Probably about half a century ago."

"Fifty years?!"

A sudden and terrible realization struck the student, and he clutched his face in horror. Had he really turned into an old man? He was the one who was about to... The Elven Queen abruptly stopped the panic that was beginning to set in, commanding loudly and imperiously:

"Cyrill, calm down! You're completely fine! Look!"

With a gesture, Sivila pointed to a tall mirror standing against one of the walls. It reflected a young man, very familiar to Cyril, with short light-blond hair and a completely wild expression on his dazed face. A young face, without aging wrinkles, gray hair, or beard. Running his palm over it, and making sure that it was not a trick, the student involuntarily exhaled with relief:

"Ugh... And here I was... But, wait, what about....."

Understanding his question, the queen said in a caring voice:

"I can definitely say that your captor didn't skimp on quality rejuvenating alchemy and healing magic."

"Got it..."

In fact, there was very little to understand. What I heard simply refused to fit into my head. To be personally chosen by the goddess for a great mission and to enter the other world through the elevator of one's home was an extraordinary event! It was not easy to realize and accept. And now it turned out that he had fallen much deeper and a long time ago... Shit, what if he... No... That can't be... What if... Apparently, another panic thought was reflected on the student's face too clearly, because the queen of the elves again became wary:

"Cyrill, are you okay? If you feel bad…"

"Oh... No, I'm fine... well, I mean, no... I mean, I mean... Geez, I'm sorry... I'm just... my head is spinning from what I've heard... Geez...."

"Cyril, look at me."

Cyril turned to look at Sivila and couldn't take his eyes off her emerald eyes. Fathomless emerald eyes shone in unison with the stones that adorned the silver hoop on her head.

"Listen to my voice. It's okay. Take a deep breath. Breathe out. Listen to my voice. It's okay. It's okay. You are. Safe. Cyril?"

The student blinked several times and stared at the elven queen in surprise. The fear and panic vanished, replaced by calm. Relative calm. Sivila suddenly bowed her head slightly and said:

"Please forgive me this slight interference, I did not intend to do you any harm, honorable Cyril, only to calm your fear. Whatever it is that frightens you, believe me, you are perfectly safe here, you are in no danger."

Swallowing again, the student nodded in response:

"It's okay... Uh... thanks... It's just... it's not easy to hear. And it's so sudden."

"I understand that it was very hard for you to hear that, and even harder for you to realize it. If you need time to come to your senses, we won't rush you. The only thing we dare ask of you right now is that you do not try to write new lines in the Tablet of the Soul...."

The queen's last words made Cyril jump up. Exactly! System! The cherished word “Status” was not said, but as it turned out, the thought was enough. The student had time to notice how the elves twitched as the queen opened her mouth. And before Cyril's eyes, there were already lines of unknown, but intuitively understandable language. And then HELL began. It was as if Cyril was simultaneously struck in the stomach, in the groin, on the head and from inside the head, and then also by lightning. His body was paralyzed, and he collapsed back on the bed. The words of the unknown language were imprinted in his mind.

WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!

A critical ERROR has been detected!

The installed S.Y.S.TE.M. V-32.2912 is critically outdated!

Immediate update to V-35.0235 required!

Starting loading…

The world around the unfortunate student turned upside down and turned into an endless carousel.

13%...

"Fuuuuuuck..."

It was all Cyril could squeeze out of himself as the ceiling and walls of the bedroom spun rapidly before his eyes.

34%...

Women's faces were added to the roundel of walls and ceiling.

49%...

Very beautiful women's faces. Opening his mouth, Cyril tried to smile.

65%...

For some reason, the beauties leaning over him didn't appreciate Cyril's smile. Shit, did he have something stuck in his teeth?!

76%...

Trying to raise his hand to wipe his teeth, Cyril clearly realized that his hand would not reach his teeth.

84%...

Use your foot! That's right! But which one?

97%...

Ah, he needs to reach his teeth to his feet, it'll be clearer there...

100%

Download complete. Installation begins…

"...ooooo..."

"Cyril? Can you hear me?!"

A woman's concerned voice came from far away. As if from another room. When Cyril focused his gaze, he saw the ceiling above him, decorated with paintings in the floral style. And the incredibly beautiful faces of two women looking down at him with concern. Their eyes burned with fire, as did the gems in the hoops that adorned their heads. For a few seconds, the student stared at them.

"Cyril?"

Wrinkling his nose, the student squirmed and wheezed:

"I can hear you...ugh...I'm fine...was updating the System, the patch was really big damn....."

WARNING! WARNING!

A critical ERROR has been detected!

"Damnt it..."

The maximum number of users has been exceeded!

Current allowed user limit: 1 (ONE)

Current number of active users: 2 (TWO)

A disconnect has been initiated...

ERROR!

The ability to disconnect is blocked by the Administration.

ERROR!

Disconnection is not possible.

ERROR!

The maximum number of users has been exceeded!

ERROrrАА№z<404\TlФФ>>>!!!

The application to increase the allowed user limit has been approved by the Administration!

New allowed user limit: 2 (TWO)

Current number of active users: tr3zzzzzz...?...?

ERRO... rrrrrrr...

"Damn it, Lia!"

"Damn, I warned you, Aura!"

"I didn't check the messages on... Geez, disconnect him from the chat room!"

"First, give me the extra..."

ERROR! ERror!

"Cyril? Cyril?"

"Ughhh..."

Cyril struggled to focus his gaze again and saw two beautiful women leaning over him, looking at him with burning eyes. And with gorgeous tits that almost fell out of the necklines of very revealing dresses. Literally reach out and you can...

The student's unaccustomed brain was given the equivalent of a kick, and he jerked involuntarily. Oh, for fuck's sake! Fucking sysadmins! Or sysadmins?! Sysadmins, damn it! Where's the phone number for tech support?!
игра слов

"Cyril, do you hear me? Cyril?"

Groaning, the student raised his right hand, palm up:

"I can hear you, your majesty. I'm fine. I think-- Uh-huh."

He sat up in bed again and looked around at the elves gathered around the bed. They looked very worried and looked at him with noticeable anxiety. The elf queen standing to the right of the bed asked cautiously:

"Are you sure, Cyril? You almost lost consciousness, you started convulsing. We tried to use healing magic, but your bodies, both subtle and material, were perfectly fine."

Rubbing his eyes, Cyril muttered:

"It was the System update, damn it... And then some other errors came up. It's not a good feeling."

Sighing, the student turned to the queen, who was still looking at him with a fraction of concern:

"But now I believe what you say, honorable Sivila. I really have been in this world for quite a while now, since the System has accumulated so many updates... Ugh... And the user limit has been exceeded as well... Yeah...."

For a few seconds, the student grimly realized the extent of his problems. Or rather, tried to realize. He had been chosen by the goddess for a great mission, to restore the balance of an entire world. Sort of. And, by the looks of it, had screwed up just like that, falling into the hands of some local Sauron. Or worse. Lost the artifact he was given and a bunch of memories along with it. Well, that's just fucked up, that's just fucked up. Okay. Okay. Okay. Take it easy. Take it easy! The mammoth must be eaten in pieces. That is, the restoration of world balance and justice must begin with the solution of priority problems. So Kirill coughed and asked politely, looking at the elves surrounding him with the most nonchalant face:

"Excuse me, honorable, may I use the restroom?"

* * *

To his considerable relief, Cyril reached the restroom on his own feet even without the support of a couple of local servants who came up to him. His body obeyed him without any problems as if he had really just left his apartment half an hour ago. Apartments... Yeah. The restroom he'd been taken to was only slightly smaller than his previous apartment. It was probably three times the size of his previous apartment. Marble everywhere, perfect cleanliness, everything was polished to a shine, and from one look even at the hooks for clothes and towels you realize: expensive and rich! When he finished his business, having somehow figured out the device of the local analog of the toilet, a couple of servants, who were waiting for him outside the door, provided him with a set of clothes, and even helped him to get dressed. Admittedly, he wouldn't have been able to do it without them. At least quickly and correctly. Since the clothes he was given were noticeably different from the pants, shirts, and T-shirts Cyril was accustomed to.

From the outside, the clothes issued to him looked like a mixture of the male elves' clothes from Peter Jackson's movies and a Victorian-style suit. All in dark green colors, with silver. It looked gorgeous, at least Cyril liked his reflection in the mirror. He wanted to stand in a pompous pose and declare something in anime style! And, importantly, all the clothes were not only very pleasant to the touch but also fit him perfectly, as if they were tailor-made!

Well, stop admiring yourself, Cyril! You have to save this world or its balance, you are the chosen one, after all! Yes, the first damn thing is lumpy, but now we'll fix it! But first, we should accept the offer of his saviors and have a good meal! Because war is war and lunch is lunch. Cyril fully approved of this approach to restoring the shaken world balance. A pair of servants assigned to him escorted him to the next room. It, as well as the previous rooms, winged his native apartment, both in terms of size and luxury of decorations, like an elephant to a guinea pig. It was as if he had entered the Kremlin. Or Versailles. Or some distant storeroom at Rothenberg's dacha. The more modest kind.

The abundance of gold, so beloved of the nouveau riche, was nowhere to be found here. But nevertheless, it was felt that everything here, from the rug at the entrance to the huge table made of solid light wood, was expensive. No, it wasn't. VERY EXPENSIVE! And at the same time, all the furniture looked refined and elegant. Elvish, for lack of another word. Trying not to stare around too much, Cyril sat down at the huge table. Servants immediately placed a dozen dishes on silver trays in front of him. There were neatly cut slices of various types of meat, several soups, vegetable salads, assorted fruits, seafood, several pots with some sauces, and a couple of decanters with drinks. As soon as Cyril smelled the aroma of all this splendor, he realized how hungry he was. He wanted everything at once and then a refill! He had to make a natural effort not to choke on saliva and not to pounce on all these delicious things.

In the end, he opted for a rich seafood soup, and for the second he chose boiled meat of some local animal with a side dish of vegetables. The meat was juicy and literally melted in my mouth. And the offered dessert was simply marvelous! Several dozen chilled berries, resembling large cherries, were very juicy and literally burst in the mouth from the juice that burst from them. Very sweet juice. And Cyril loved sweets, what to hide. Mmm, it was delicious! Ten Michelin stars for this restaurant! Having finished with the meal, the student, or rather, as it turned out long ago, a former student, rose from the table, and he was escorted to the next room. It was an office, with a large conference table. Needless to say, it also surpassed Kirill's native apartment like a bull to a sheep in all respects. The queen and several other elves were already waiting for him there. At the sight of Cyril, they all rose to their feet and bowed their heads slightly.

"Honorable Cyril, I hope you are pleased with the vestments and refreshments offered?"

Embarrassed by this treatment and respect for his person, he spontaneously bowed deeply to the queen and her companions. The thought came to him belatedly that he must have bowed incorrectly and violated a hundred and one points of etiquette, but he could not back down. So, straightening himself at attention, Cyril answered politely:

"Thank you, honorable Sivila, it was wonderful! I've never tasted such delicious food in my life."

Characteristically, Cyril wasn't lying. The elf queen's lips touched again with a barely perceptible smile, and she pointed to a vacant seat at the table:

"In that case, I suggest we continue our conversation."

"I completely agree with you..."

* * *

The conversation with the queen and, as Cyril realized, the elven ministers, was very long and took more than an hour. He listened to the elves and elven women talking very attentively, and the longer he listened, the more gloomy he became because he realized how he had FUCKED UP. And, what also turned out to be unexpectedly unpleasant, he realized how the local inhabitants had fallen because of him. No, Cyril did not consider himself a saint or a righteous man. But he also did not consider himself a bad person. Ordinary - more than ordinary. Maybe a little lazy when it came to a dull and often meaningless routine. But not exactly a bad person. He had such a thing as conscience. And it was not even driven somewhere in the deepest depths, sometimes giving its voice.

No, no one accused him of anything. No one said even a word of reproach to him. But Cyril himself understood perfectly well, listening to the elves' story and watching the three-dimensional images they showed, how much trouble this Master had done. Apparently, he used his artifact, and the System given to Cyril. That's where the conversation eventually came to. The elven queen, having extinguished another image, where the results of this Master's activity were demonstrated, looked at Cyril attentively and said in a very polite voice:

"Honorable Cyril, I understand it would probably be tactless to ask such a thing. According to our archives, the lines in the Tablet of the Soul are for each person endowed with it a thing of the utmost secrecy. And it's up to you to decide which of its offerings to choose. But I would ask you to consult with us before entering new lines into it. Because, according to our archives, it is incredibly difficult and sometimes impossible to correct anything written in it."

Cyril, trying to make himself look as confident and calm as possible, nodded in response:

"I completely agree with you, honorable Sivila, and I don't mind. I wouldn't want to screw up my build myself. I mean, I don't want to pick the wrong skills. Or abilities. You got a point."

The queen subtly bowed her head and smiled with the corners of her lips:

"More than."

Exhaling, Cyrill mentally crossed himself and finally said the cherished word:

"Status."

Name: Cyrill

Level: 0

Class: not chosen

Characteristics: (free: 0)

Talents (free): 0

Constitution: 1

Sensitivity: 1

Power: 1

Control: 1

Source:1

Spirit:1

Resistance: 1

Acquired Knowledge: Oral and Written: Classical Elvish, Free Cities, Northern Theocracy;

Acquired properties: none

System Modifiers: none

Special: Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Guardian of the Balance of Worlds, Guardian of the Balance of Powers: Hidden Effects.

For a few minutes, Cyril carefully read the lines in front of his eyes and realized what was written. The latter was helped by the fact that many things became intuitively clear if one concentrated on them. What he was able to understand was that only a fraction of the characteristics available to him corresponded to the role-playing computer games so beloved by Cyril. The textbook agility, strength, endurance, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma were not present. Partially, the first three things were replaced by CONSTITUTION.

It was responsible for his physical strength and physical toughness. The system helpfully suggested that if he pumped it up properly, Cyril would be able to impersonate Zuckerman or Homolender without costume and makeup. He could actually punch through walls with his fist. Or his forehead. And the iron crowbar will cease to be a universal device against him. As will almost any cold weapon. Not only will it be impossible to penetrate the skin, but any wounds will heal very quickly. And if you pick up the right talents, it will heal very quickly. However, in order to at least roughly start cosplaying the above characters, it was necessary to bring the Constitution to at least fifteen. Or better yet, closer to twenty. Then he would really come close in strength to those who like to wear brightly colored panties over tights and wrap themselves in capes. But for now, he had it at one, which, as the System suggested, was the norm for a normal ungifted, and untrained person.

If he invested a few points of characteristics and brought it up to a three, he wouldn't be afraid to visit the bad neighborhood even far past midnight. And the consequences of such visits, too. In any case, it will be very difficult to stab him with an ordinary knife, simply because his skin will be stronger. A good sword or an axe might do the trick. And not even an enchanted one. But wounds will heal more easily, and common diseases will be avoided. And that's if he only gets his Constitution up to a three.

Suddenly, when Cyril imagined himself in a tight suit and cloak, his mind immediately became convinced that it was quite possible. In other words, to swing naturally under Zuckerman or the same Omniman. But in addition to the Constitution, it would be good to develop Resistance, so other people's magic would either not work at all or would be very weak. And then he would really be able to withstand acid rain, or fire rain, and not get smoldered.

If you want to fly as well, you need to develop CONTROL and SOURCE. The first one, as it was easy to understand even without reference, was responsible for how well you could control your magic power. And how much time and effort you spent on a particular spell. What good is the energy invested in a fireball if it explodes right in your hands, or flies under the feet of your comrades. Without it, truly complex and subtle manipulations of magic are impossible. It's especially critical for healers. But if you want to fly like comic book heroes on your superpower alone, you can't do without control. Otherwise, you won't be able to stay in the air properly, and you'll be flapping around like a balloon.

The Source was to give you something to ride into the air. And not just that. In fact, for any gifted person, it was one of the main characteristics that determined their ceiling. How much magical power you could hold and store in your subtle bodies. How quickly that power could be replenished. Yes, in theory, even with an underdeveloped source, you can conjure even very strong magic. But in that case, you'd have to use all sorts of crutches, like artifact-storage devices, concentrators, amplifiers, and so on. Even so, sooner or later you'll hit your power ceiling. Probably sooner than later.

Well, if, as the System's help suggested, you want to fully cosplay a comic book superhero, you can't do without POWER. It was responsible, as it was easy to guess, for the power of magic. For dense, rich, and valuable it would be to you and others. It was possible to have a relatively large volume due to a developed Source. Good control. But they wouldn't help your spells pierce the hide of a maturing troll if you didn't have enough Power. Spells, be they lightning, fire, or acid, can't do anything to him, no matter how much you cast them on a protected enemy. Therefore, as the help suggested, if you want to burn the walls of fortresses and the bodies of hundreds of enemies with beams of fire from your eyes, you can't do without developed POWER.

Ideally, to be able to fly freely around the world with a big red letter “C” on his chest, piercing the walls of fortresses with his fist, it was necessary to raise all these characteristics to at least fifteen points. But only the same System prompted that for each level, Cyril would receive one free talent point. And only for every ten one free point of characteristics. At this rate, he was still growing up to the bright image of Zooperman.

SENSITIVITY most of all resembled Perception, familiar to Cyril from computer games. As it developed, it became easier to perceive the whole surrounding world. To distinguish magical vibes, to see even hidden auras of living beings or objects, to notice traces, both physical and non-material. Putting all the free characteristics into it, and bringing it to the cherished ten, Cyril, if you believe the reference, would get a full-fledged analog of “ Witcher's Vision ”. A really powerful disguise he wouldn't notice, but there would be a chance with average ones. With such a vision, he would be hired by either the Secret Guard or the Night Guild. And many other places where the ability to notice the smallest traces or hidden things is valued. An indispensable characteristic for all sorts of trackers, assassins, killers, hitmen, detectives, and other lurkers.

The last characteristic was Spirit. It was the main characteristic of shamans, priests, druids, and all others who staked on communication with the universe or otherworldly entities. It made it easier to tame and interact with wild beasts and even monsters. It increased the effectiveness of prayers and divine blessings. It also improved resistance to demonic corruption. This made the spirit a necessary characteristic to develop for all sorts of exorcists, demon hunters, and other fighters against the creatures of Inferno.

Rereading his status, Cyril paid attention to the most important thing. The classes he had been offered. And they were poured into him heartily. The practically classic holy trinity went first.

Warrior. Wizard. Healer.

Then came several clerical classes, as the System dubbed them.

Monk. Priest. Paladin. Exorcist.

After that, classes related to nature were offered. Including non-material:

Shaman. Druid. Master of beasts.

There were also several classes that Cyril considered to be lurkers.

Assassin. Marksman. Thief. Spy.

And last of all came several craft classes.

Alchemist. Artifacer. Blacksmith-enchanter.

The descriptions of all the classes offered had a purple halo around them, but some had glimmers of gold. And, to tell the truth, such a rich choice made his eyes go wild. For several minutes, Cyril stared in front of him, reading the descriptions of the offered classes and delving into their details. In addition to access to a certain set of knowledge and properties, each of them automatically raised Cyril to the first level, gave five talent points, and raised some profile characteristics. For example, the same ASSASSIN increased Sensitivity by four points, and control and corporeality by one. Subsequently increased Sensitivity by one for every ten levels.

In addition, it turned out that the same Wizard offered a very wide range of knowledge and properties. It would be more accurate to say VERY wide. You could choose a set that would turn you into a classic Elemental mage, with a focus on one of the elements. You could emphasize Barrier or Spatial magic. Or you could become a beginner Necromancer or Blood Mage. There was also a Mentalist among the proposed classes. Or the rather exotic for Cyril Biomancer. Also, he realized, looking at the proposed classes, that some of them could evolve when reaching a certain level of characteristics, knowledge, and properties.

He must have sat for quite a long time, staring at nothing in front of him. But the elves did not hurry him, patiently waiting for Cyril to familiarize himself with what was offered. After blinking several times, he focused his gaze on the elf queen and said:

"I apologize. It's just that there's a very large selection and I was unintentionally reading."

Sivila nodded faintly in response:

"I see your point, honorable Cyril. May we know what exactly the Tablet of the Soul has offered you?"

The enumeration of the classes offered to him and their descriptions took a considerable amount of time. The elves carefully recorded everything from Cyril's words, often asking clarifying questions, sometimes quite detailed. When the whole list was announced, the most difficult stage began. One particular one had to be chosen. All the elves, including Sivila, clearly stated that this choice was left entirely to Kirill's discretion. They would not impose any specific classes on him. However, they were ready to help him with advice. And their advice was not unreasonable.

Cyril discarded the craft classes almost immediately. All these classes guaranteed him calm and stable development with full comfort under the direct patronage of the elves. They directly informed him they would be happy to provide him with resources and tools. But all these classes tied Cyril in one way or another to the place he would choose as his workshop. One could, in theory, do without it, but that robbed the crafting classes of much of their potential. Which Cyril strongly disliked. Because it deprived him of the opportunity to personally thank this Master for everything. This was very desirable, and the elves openly said they would be very grateful for any help from Cyril in the fight against this Brainwasher.

The ideal counter-class against a Master would be a WARRIOR, with pumped resistance. A kind of unkillable juggernaut-antimagus. Or a similarly pumped ASSASSIN, who in theory could get close to his victim undetected. But the fact that Cyril had never had any love for either of them played a role here. In numerous computer role-playing games, he always liked to play as a mage. In many ways, this love determined his choice, which he voiced to the elves. They supported his decision, and in turn, promised their support, both advice and material. Having exhaled several times, Cyril mentally confirmed the choice of the Wizard class.

It gave three points to Source, two to Power, and one point each to Control and Sensitivity. And one additional point to Source every ten levels, one to Power every twenty, and one to Control and Sensitivity every thirty. As soon as he made his choice, Cyril felt a wave of energy surge through his body. He sat still for a few minutes, closing his eyes and getting used to the new sensations. The main one was the feeling of magical energy that now filled his body, but it was concentrated and gathered in the chest area. And the feeling was unexpectedly pleasant. Cyril opened his eyes and found that the elves were looking at him intently. Especially the queen, and, as he realized, the main sorceress here. Their eyes were naturally glowing as well as the stones in their tiaras. He was embarrassed by the attention and asked cautiously:

"Something wrong?"

In response, Sivila shook her head and said in a strange voice:

"No, honorable Cyril, it's all right. It was just amazing to watch your subtle bodies change in an instant. It would take a typical gifted person years to do something like that."

The Senior Enchantress nodded:

"And under ideal conditions. It took you a few minutes. It's amazing."

Smiling embarrassedly, Cyril moved on to the selection of talents, for which he was given five free points. And there were a lot of them offered to the Wizard. However, Cyril strongly suspected that if he chose the knowledge of, say, a necromancer, such as “the basics of controlling the lower undead” or “basic skills of creating the lower undead”, then in the future the proposed talents will be mostly related to necromancy. In general, however, all the knowledge could be divided into three categories. These were broad knowledge, like the aforementioned necromancy knowledge. Obtaining such knowledge could replace, if not years, then many months of study and practice. There was knowledge that was narrowly focused. Like the textbook “magic arrow”. Choosing this narrowly focused knowledge, Kirill would master this rather simple, but no less effective spell as if he had been honing it for years.

It would require less strength, the weave would form almost instantly, it would be easier to direct magic arrows, and they would become more powerful. It would be enough to point a finger in the right direction for a charge of magic to rush into the target. For an ordinary ungifted and unprotected person, such a magic arrow would be comparable in killing power to a shot from a hunting rifle. And with a bullet, not a buckshot. Yes, such an arrow would not kill an enemy protected by magic or enchanted armor. A single arrow. But Cyril could drop several of them on his enemies one after another.

If he didn't have the help and support of the elves behind him, one such narrow knowledge he would take. So that there would be, so to speak, an argument in case of unforeseen aggressive negotiations. But now it would be an outright waste, which he understood perfectly without the elves' advice. The third category, however, was various passive properties and meta-skills. The former obviously gave passive properties. Like “affinity with water”, which increased Control by one unit and made it easier to work with spells of water orientation. But at the same time, it made working with the fire element very difficult and simply made working with air and earth more difficult.

Or, for example, “increased reserve.” This property increased the available reserve by fifty percent but reduced the speed of its recovery by twenty-five. Similarly, “accelerated replenishment” worked the same way, but with the exact opposite. The amount of reserve was reduced, but its replenishment was accelerated. There were many variants of passive properties, and the eyes naturally dispersed.

Against their background, the meta-skills, at first glance, looked pale. They had nothing to do with magic, nothing to do with magic at all. But they did provide something else. What about the possibility of getting a real mini-map? A real mini-map that could tell you where you were, where north was, where to go, and how far to go. Obviously, it only showed the area you saw with your own eyes, but even that was very cool and guaranteed that you wouldn't get lost. If Cyril found himself somewhere in the wilderness, and not in the Royal Elven Palace, such a mini-map could save his life.

But so, other skills were much more appealing to him. The sort of passive, very small, but constant gaining of experience. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. With such a skill it was possible, in theory, just sitting still for a few decades to become, if not an archmage, then a very powerful mage. There was the possibility of getting increased experience gains in combat or peaceful situations. Or the ability to regularly receive System quests. Simple and weak at first, but it was only the first step of the skill, right? At higher levels, the assignments will be more difficult, but also delicious rewards.

What do you think of the “group creation” option? Seeing what it could develop into eventually made Cyril mentally groan at the fact he couldn't choose it now. This skill, as well as several others, was blocked for now. And some were hidden altogether. Wow, a challenge...

Discussing the choice of skills, talents, and knowledge took even more time than discussing the choice of class. Like last time, the final choice was left to Cyril. The queen and the other elves only politely gave him advice. It must be said, quite useful. So, Cyril refused minor knowledge. For the simple reason that in his situation the usefulness of them was minimal. Instead, he spent three talent points on broad knowledge. These were:

"Fundamentals of Management and Control of Internal Energies"

"Basic skills for working with external energy sources"

"Basic skills for creating basic magical barriers"

He spent another talent point on the property: “blessing of harmonious magical development”. It didn't facilitate future progression or development per se, but instead reduced the risk of damage to subtle bodies due to overstrain and improper formation of energy channels.

Cyril spent the last of his five free talent points on the meta-skill: “System Assignment I”

In addition to this, Cyril gained two more knowledge from the System along with the class:

“The basics of working with basic amulets and artifacts.”

“Basic skills for creating the fundamentals of magical weaves.”

When he confirmed receiving the skills, Cyril was literally overwhelmed for a few minutes. As he thought. In fact, when he came to his senses, it turned out that he had been lying in a semi-conscious state for several hours, and the elves even carefully moved him to the couch. After getting to his feet, Cyril collapsed back down almost immediately. Yes, it was a mistake to gain so much knowledge at once. In the future, he would have to learn them one by one. However, he would be awarded them one by one for each level.

After calming the elves worried about his well-being, Cyril asked for water. After quenching his thirst, he calmly rose to his feet, inhaled deeply, and then made what he thought was an elegant gesture with his hand and lit a small light above his palm. The weave was easy to create as if Cyril had been doing it for days. It wasn't a classic fireball but the same as a lighter turned to maximum. It didn't consume much reserve, but it had an unexpected effect.

The elves were clearly surprised, and the queen and the older sorceress quickly looked at each other. Then Sivila, looking at Cyril carefully, whispered:

"Amazing."

The elven enchantress nodded:

"I agreed."

After which she turned to the newfound wizard:

Cyril, are you feeling all right? Please don't use too much energy, newcomers often use the reserve too quickly.

Extinguishing the flame, Cyril allowed himself a slight smile:

"Thank you honorable Mirael, this fire has barely used up my reserve."

The elves looked at each other again with strange expressions on their faces. Cyril sat down on the couch again and began distributing characteristic points one by one. Five he put into Power, three into Control, and one more into Source. Each characteristic point he invested in caused a sensation that was difficult to convey. Cyril could physically feel the fire in his chest growing, becoming hotter and more supple. When the last point was internalized, he whispered:

"Status."

Name: Cyrill

Level: 1

Class: Wizard

Characteristics: (free: 0)

Talents (free): 0

Constitution: 1

Sensitivity: 2

Power: 8

Control: 5

Source:5

Spirit:1

Resistance: 1

Acquired Knowledge: Oral and Written: Classical Elvish, Free Cities, Northern Theocracy; “Basic Management and Control of Internal Energies”, “Basic Skills of Working with External Energy Sources”, “Basic Skills of Creating Basic Magical Barriers”, “Basic Skills of Working with Basic Amulets and Artifacts”, “Basic Skills of Creating Basic Magical Weaves”

Acquired properties: “the blessing of harmonious magical development”

System Modifiers: “Issuance of System Assignments I.”

Special: Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Guardian of the Balance of Worlds, Guardian of the Balance of Powers: Hidden Effects.

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http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/579469

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP