Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Глава десятая. Первая соратница Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter Ten: The first companion of the Hero of the Elf Queen

* * *

There was nothing but darkness. Darkness and the cold that came with it. A nasty, painful cold, like the chill of a fever. It was regularly replaced by a pleasant warmth that swept through Cyril's body in waves from heel to toe. It warmed and relieved the exhausted young man. And during these respites, Cyril had unusually vivid and realistic dreams. And then darkness and vile cold came again. And so on.

* * *

Densely forested hills, a huge river snaking between them. And no trace of civilization as far as the eye could see. Only wild lands, which Cyril looked down on from a bird's eye view. Suddenly, the bird or spirit, whose eyes he was looking at the world through, swooped down to the ground. Beneath the crowns of dense trees were some moss-covered ruins. And in these ruins, between the collapsed columns, a dark hole was visible. Cyril dived into the impenetrable darkness and...

A huge dungeon appeared before him in all its glory, not even a dungeon, but a whole underground city! It was astonishing in its size and scope! Dozens of floors, kilometers of tunnels, hundreds of rooms, warehouses, workshops, shafts of air and water pipes. Once, no doubt, this city had been majestic, but now only a pitiful shadow of its former glory remained. Many of the tunnels were partially or completely collapsed, and in some places entire sections of floors had collapsed. It was also thickly saturated with death. Necrotic energy could be felt in every tunnel, every hall, every living space, every workshop. There was more of it in some places, less in others, but it was especially strong in two places. In a huge underground reservoir, stretching out like an entire lake. Its bottom was one big blob of death.

The second concentration of necromancy was the very center of the dead city, which was a perfectly circular hall. The city had been dead for a long time but wasn't deserted. Its main hall was bustling with activity. To the song “Live to Win” by Paul Stanlye, Cyrill watched a strange ghost, literally overflowing with necrotic energy, devoid of a face, but with a huge toothy mouth dividing his head exactly in half... pumping furiously moving iron. Barbells, dumbbells, kettlebells, tourniquets - a disembodied in essence ghost, changed one projectile for another. He was doing push-ups, squats, pull-ups, lunges - and all this at breakneck speed, as if Cyrill was watching a movie in accelerated mode. And every round the ghost accompanied with a loud shout, opening his toothy mouth: “Damned shadow guy!”

It was easy to guess who it was about. On the wall of the circular hall, a portrait of some person was scratched into the stone. A relatively detailed portrait, a relief image. It was studded in a circle with numerous rusty swords, spears, daggers, and other sharp iron. Next to the portrait of an incomprehensible man, on the same wall of the hall were scratched-out letters of an unfamiliar, but why intuitively understandable alphabet.

M – Motivation!

P - Pumping!

R - Retribution!

G – Goal!

Watching a ghost literally and figuratively pumping to a song from the textbook South Park episode of WoW was both funny and scary. Because the ghost was really pumping. Cyril clearly realized that little by little, but the strange undead was getting stronger. Its ghostly muscles were becoming more embossed and bigger. And the necrotic energy was brighter, denser, and thicker. Especially since he was not only lifting iron but also running through tunnels, especially those that led uphill. And not just running, but dragging behind him on huge iron chains an equally huge block of stone. Then he'd use those chains to make a wave. Swam a brace across an underground lake at the speed of a good motorboat. And he made other undead. And it looked like he was cosplaying Tony Stark from the very first Iron Man movie. In a ghostly apron, wearing goggles ( why should he if he doesn't have eyes?), with a welding machine in one hand and a hammer in the other, he was riveting huge bone monsters, shackling them in rusty spiked armor. And there were already dozens of such iron skeletons filled with necrotic energy.

But not only skeleton warriors were made by the ghost. In one of the workshops, Cyril noticed numerous blueprints and a very strange model. As if someone attached to a huge mountain, or a solid mass of land... Huge skeletal legs? Interesting, who pissed off and motivated this ghost to work so hard? Cyril didn't have time to think about this thought, as he was again swallowed by the cold, nasty darkness....

* * *

An incredibly huge ship, a natural premium cruise ship, only wooden and sailing, was breaking small waves in the middle of the vast blue sea or ocean. The sight was breathtaking, and not just because of the size and beauty of the ship. There was a tremendous amount of magical power in it. It was literally overflowing with life force, it was felt in every plank, in the masts and rails of this huge ship. The ship felt like a living being, not just an enchanted product of skillful craftsmen. But before Cyril could fully enjoy the sight, he was transported aboard this huge... battleship? Mega-battleship? A dreadnought?

Ah, it doesn't matter what it's called. What was more interesting was what was happening on deck. And there was a big fight going on. At the base of the tall mast, in a gorgeous snow-white shirt with lace, bright red pants embroidered with gold, and high knee-high black patent leather boots, stood a broad-shouldered man. Attractive, with a strong-willed, smooth-shaven face and gorgeous curly hair. In one hand he held a very long and razor-sharp... kitchen knife. In the other hand, the man was clutching a large two-tined fork. With this strange weapon, the obscure man was fencing with vegetables and seafood floating in the air... And it was all set to music from Pirates of the Caribbean.

The fight was desperate! Vegetables, shrimps, squid, and some kind of fish came at the man from all sides, but he fought back skillfully and deftly, slicing, chopping, and cutting them. One after another, the food fell on silver trays, they were showered with salt and spices and poured with some liquids, but they were not going to give up! The culinary battle was watched from the side, or rather from a huge Jacuzzi bathing tub standing right there on the deck, by a couple of naked women literally sitting on the surface of the water which took the form of armchairs. Comfortably reclining in their water seats, they were cheering the fighter while sipping some drinks from crystal glasses.

One of the women was a gorgeous blue-eyed blonde, with huge breasts, bright pink nipples, and an equally huge, rounded belly that spoke of the last months, if not weeks, of pregnancy. The other was dark-skinned, with straight rather than curly black hair, less lushly shaped, a little more slender, but also very attractive. And there was a considerable amount of power in both of them. The blond literally reeked of maternal warmth and care, the smell of cut grass, ripe apples, and damp plowed land. This power was affectionate and tender, but for some reason, Cyril did not doubt for a second that it was not worth hurting the blonde. The dark-skinned beauty had a different kind of power. She felt the sea's salty air, the cries of seagulls, the rumble of the surf, and the noise of the waves hitting the rocks. The two women cheered the fighting man with cheerful shouts, and soon he won a convincing victory.

By the way, the man was also strong, but Cyril didn't notice it at once, because it merged with the magic saturating the ship. Actually, the man also felt like an integral part of the ship. How strange. While Cyril was thinking about it, a man gallantly presented the ladies with silver trays with ready food. And they were floating right in the air, having flown up to the jacuzzi. Radiantly smiling blonde immediately took a tentacle of octopus fried in oil and spices and generously dipped it in raspberry jam. The dark-skinned woman and the cook-warrior exchanged meaningful glances at this perversion.

But at that moment, someone else appeared next to the man and whispered something in his ear. Cirill didn’t have time to hear what exactly, once again absorbed by the chills and darkness…

* * *

The spacious, circular room had no windows but it was brightly lit. And not by ordinary or magical lamps, but by a huge ceiling mosaic depicting the silhouette of a man against the background of a sun disk. This mosaic was glowing, illuminating the whole room with natural sunlight that dispersed the slightest shadows. From somewhere Cyril had a strong conviction that this room was in some very important temple. Everything here was drenched in sunlight, warming and illuminating the way, but capable of blinding and burning at any moment. It was felt not only in the ceiling but also in the walls and floor. The same light was in the people and non-humans gathered here. And there was an invisible but very clear presence.

This someone was the source of power that filled everything and everyone around with sunlight. It was so much so that some of the people present were literally glowing with sunlight. Especially one gorgeous blonde middle-aged woman in a gorgeous white-golden dress, who stood half-turned to Cyril. The light rolled in waves through her long hair, burned in her eyes, and enveloped the palms of her hands. But the brightest was a young woman floating in the air with snow-white wings behind her back. She glowed so brightly that you couldn't even make out her face, only the contours of her figure. A very seductive figure.

All the gathered gathered in a tight ring around some object floating directly in the air above the glowing snow-white altar. It was difficult to understand what it was because of the glow, but looking closer, Cyril saw that it was a medium-sized sphere made of some transparent material. And inside it, some fragments glowing with green light were floating. There was a vaguely familiar power in them, somewhere he had met such a response before. And for some reason, Cyril suspected something evil at the mere sight of them...

But he couldn't figure out what was wrong with the shards and the magic embedded in them. Suddenly, the light became brighter, and the shards enclosed in the transparent sphere flared especially strong, then sharply formed into a... medium-sized jade phallus. For a few seconds, it simply rotated in all directions inside the transparent sphere, then abruptly froze, parallel to the ground. For a moment it was motionless, and then it began to slowly rotate until it was pointing its tip precisely at Cyril. Everyone around the sphere turned to look at the young man. For a moment he met eyes with a middle-aged woman who was one of the brightest. She was unexpectedly beautiful, but not with a young and youthful beauty, but with the beauty of a mature and experienced woman. But just from one look at her face Cyril became scared, because it was full of such cold rage, as if he had committed some unthinkable sacrilege. And she was looking exactly at Cyril! Right at him, right in his eyes! For a split second, he was frightened to the core, but then he realized she was not looking at him, but through him, somewhere far away. Very far away...

* * *

The room was filled with stacks of iron-clad chests with gold and silver coins, solid bars of noble metals, boxes of precious stones, and jewelry. In the very center of this treasury, right in front of Cyril, at a huge table filled with neat columns of gold and silver coins, stacks of some papers, and bags of pearls and jewels, sat an elf-Scrooge-McDuck. He pulled away from the huge ledger and raised his cold eyes to the young man, squinting unkindly.

"Do you want to run?"

"Ahem... what?"

"Did you think death would save you?"

"Am... excuse me, what do..."

Standing up from the table, the Scrooge elf moved toward Cyril. And for some reason, the young man felt uncomfortable with his facial expression. Or should I say muzzle? As well as the gilded (or maybe solid gold?) plunger clutched in his hand.

"No, you're not gonna get away from me that easy now, you bastard!"

"What are you... Stay back!"

"Come here! Come here, I said!"

Feeling his heart overwhelmed by animal terror, Cyril rushed to escape, maneuvering through the maze between the endless chests of gold and silver coins, ingots, and jewelry.

"You almost ruined my entire budget, you bastard! My PERFECTLY balanced budget!!! Come here!"

When Cyril jumped over another chest, he barely dodged the plunger that whistled over his ear.

"Do you have any idea the hole you've already blown in the reserve fund?! I've been filling it up for a hundred and fifty years!!!"

"Ow! Look, I don't--"

"And now you just want to die?! Noooooo! No way, buddy!"

As he rounded another stack of gold bars, Cyril realized he had driven himself into a dead end. Turning around, he watched in horror as McDaco-Elf approached him, juggling a gold plunger.

"You'll work for every Floren, every Thaler, every Cron, every Dirach! You'll work with your ass if you have to!!!"

As he took a step backward, the young man tripped over the chest and fell backward. His shriek was drowned out by the sound of gold and silver coins falling on him. He met the darkness and chill with sudden relief. At the last moment, he heard the muffled clinking of coins:

"How much, how much will it cost to treat HIM?! You're--"

* * *

The huge bedroom, bigger than Cyril's home apartment by a factor of one and a half, was furnished with good-quality and obviously expensive furniture. Closets, a dressing table, chests of drawers, armchairs in the corners. Everything was made by skillful craftsmen and decorated with skillful carvings. Also, much of this room was enchanted. Cyril felt several contours of magical protection that protected the room and its inhabitants. A separate closed field, signaling threads, spells isolating and strengthening the walls, ceiling, and floor. The occupant of this room had not skimped on security.

In the center of one of the walls was a huge bed covered with snow-white sheets. It was a real fuck stadium that could accommodate six people without disturbing each other too much. And on this bed, worthy of kings and dukes, a single woman in a bright scarlet silk nightgown slept alone. A very beautiful woman, with perfectly smooth and clean skin and luxuriant dark red hair spread across the pillows. She looked vaguely familiar. Cyril was sure somewhere he had seen that commanding face and dark red hair. But where? He could not remember it, no matter how much he looked at the sleeping beauty. And then the young man's attention was attracted by a vague shadow that appeared next to the bed. It turned out that the red-haired beauty was not alone in the bedroom.

A vague shadow beside the bed took on the shape of a graceful female figure draped entirely in black, tight-fitting silk. Pulling off her hood mask, the intruder shook her head, releasing a waterfall of hair as black and silky as her garment. At the sight of the sleeping woman, her dark slanted eyes squinted unkindly and an unkind smile appeared on her beautiful face. It was strange, Cyril could have sworn she had been here from the beginning, but he had only seen her now for some reason, and had not noticed her before. Just as the bedroom's protective charms had ignored her. But, no, if he listened, it was clear that the bedroom defenses saw the slanted beauty in the textbook shinobi outfit, but they didn't consider her a threat. Interesting...

In the meantime, the slanting stranger, who had frozen by the bed, reached forward with her silk-covered hand and pressed it against something in the air. At the same moment, Cyril could see the whole magical barrier that surrounded the entire bed. Wow, and before it was not felt and perceived at all! As if it did not exist at all. But the stranger obviously saw it very well. For a few seconds, the slanting beauty drummed her fingers on the magic barrier, and from her touches, barely noticeable waves ran through it, like circles on the water from thrown stones. Cyril couldn't understand what exactly she was doing, the effect was too subtle and imperceptible, but, by all appearances, the mysterious shinobi was carefully huck into the structure of the barrier.

When she succeeded, she simply stepped forward and passed through it, and it did not react to her. Once inside the defense, she made one elusive movement of her hand in the direction of the sleeping woman. A moment, and the finest throwing needle stabbed into her neck. Another moment, and she literally plunged inside, dissolving at the same time. The red-haired beauty didn't notice or feel it, continuing to sleep peacefully. But the slanted shinobi started to act quite actively after that and was not shy at all.

She took out a small amulet from her belt pocket and placed it in the sleeping woman's right hand, on which a large gold signet ring gleamed glowing brightly in her magical vision. As soon as the amulet touched it, it too began to glow. A moment and the two became absolutely identical in magical vision. Nodding contentedly, the shinobi let go of the sleeping woman's hand and began to perform some manipulations with the amulet. At first, Cyril couldn't understand what was going on, but then he realized that the slanted beauty was rebuilding the whole defense of the bedroom, which was closed to the sleeping woman's finger-ring. A control key-amulet, came the realization from somewhere. Which the slanted guest had copied.

After she finished her manipulation of the room's defenses, she put away her copy of the amulet and began to take care of the sleeping woman. She tossed aside the blanket and unceremoniously pulled off her nightgown, leaving her completely naked. She showed Cyril long slender legs, perfectly smooth skin without a single flaw, a pair of excellent tits with dark brown nipples, and a clean-shaven cunt. Without letting the young man admire this seductively erotic sight, the shinobi pulled several small vials from her belt pocket. She carefully poured the contents of one into the sleeping woman's mouth, opening her lips. The second she poured on the redhead's pussy, carefully pulling lips apart with two fingers so that the contents penetrated inside. With the third vial, the shinobi sprinkled the sleeping girl's tits. Then, pulling off her gloves, the slanted beauty sat down on the redhead and began to massage her with two hands.

The shinobi's palms slid over the sleeping woman's body, barely touching, pressing, and squeezing. She was especially diligent in massaging and stroking the redhead's breasts, moving from them up to her neck, then down to her stomach, and so on in a circle. The sight was both arousing and mesmerizing. There was something hypnotic about the shinobi's movements, the way she massaged the sleeping woman, the way she played with her tits. The redhead soon began to breathe heavily, wiggled in her sleep, and began to move her legs, but she never woke up. At some point, glowing patterns flashed all over her body, even through the fabric of her black silk robes. They were on her arms, legs, stomach, and back, on her head and face. Cyril tried to see them, but for some reason, he couldn't focus his eyes on the shinobi's body. The only thing he could see clearly was that waves of light began to run through these patterns, coming from the whole body of the slanted beauty to her palms, and from them flowing to the massaged redhead. First to the breasts being caressed, with their nipples hardened and erect, and from them up to her head and down to her pussy. From somewhere he realized that the light coming from the dark one was penetrating the sleeping woman's body, absorbing, dissolving into it, becoming an integral part of the redhead.

* * *

A young and pretty girl, in bright and colorful clothes of an oriental dancer, was deftly wriggling and bending on a high pole in the center of the room, immersed in an intimate twilight. Around the striptease-dancing girl on huge cushions, there were several other women, all in dark, spacious clothes. Especially stood out among them was a young beauty with a slightly rounded tummy, which caused Cyril for some reason a strong association with the Disney princess Jasmine. To be exact, with her version for adults, because the woman's outfit was a little more modest than that of the girl wriggling on the pole. And for some reason, he was convinced that poor Jafar would run away from such a Jasmine with a howl. At least he tried. And in her right hand the oriental beauty held... scissors. Just ordinary scissors. And the same scissors were in the hands of the other women watching the dancing girl.

These scissors were rhythmically snapped by the audience whenever the girl wriggling on the pole made some mistake, not bending out enough or not getting into the rhythm of the music. This made the stripper flinch slightly. And with each click the girl paled more and more, and bad smiles on the faces of the audience became wider and wider. On the next bend, hanging on the pole, she suddenly looked directly at Cyril. Her eyes were full of despair, and in a pleading voice she whispered:

"Help..."

But before the young man could do or say anything, someone grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him towards himself. For an infinitely long moment, Cyril, with his eyes wide open, looked at the strange monster that resembled a humanoid squid with red-brown skin and bulging eyes on the sides of his head. At the same time, he was dressed in a space suit. The strange creature leaned towards the dumbfounded young man and screamed shrilly:

"IT’S A TRAP!!!"

* * *

Editing

Cyril blinked several times and stared at the computer character standing at attention in front of him. Hmm, not bad! Nice elfess. The graphics are good! Just like alive, you can see every hair, every eyelash. Hmm, and what about the view from the back... Wow! As soon as Cyril wanted it, the motionless elf turned her back to him, then sideways, then half-turned. Having examined her from all sides and angles, Cyril was very pleased with her appearance. Such a beauty! The game was probably made by Koreans, or maybe by the Japanese. Unlike modern Western game developers, they know a lot about female beauty! Although, some things could be changed a little... probably... Or maybe it seems that way to him because of her outfit...

Editing

Cyril didn't even have time to finish his thought, as in one moment the elf was completely naked, and still frozen at attention. Wow, now that's the level of understanding the player's needs! Having zoomed in on the image, Cyril admired the naked elf. Oh, if only... No fucking way!

Before Cyril could even finish his thought, his character's avatar arched her back, threw her head back and put both hands behind her back, showing off her naked breasts. No, this game was definitely made by Asians. In the west, developers would have been cancelled by militant feminists for such work! Having estimated from all sides protruding tits of the elf, Cyril began to change positions. As he wished, she stood in a perfect vertical twine, then stood on her toe, bending the other leg at the knee like a ballerina. The elfess changed poses one after another, and in each one she looked incredibly seductive and erotic! Especially when she put both legs behind her head like a yogi and with both hands spread her lower lips, showing off her pussy in all its glory. Or when she sat on her butt and leaned back on her hands, one leg bent at the knee and the other straightened, practically thrusting her foot in Cyril's face. He was breathless at the sight of such a naked beauty!

Cyril fiddled with the character's avatar for a long time, changing poses, and in the end he was very pleased with what he saw, but he decided to make some minor changes. The breasts could be made bigger, B is good, but still not enough. A moment, and the tits of his elf increased several times, reaching the size of heroines of masterpieces of Japanese animation for adults. Each naturally became the size of a ripe watermelon, with bright pink cherries of nipples sticking out. Wow.

After changing a few poses and turning the elf from all sides, Kirill pressed his lips together and shook his head. No, it's still too much, such boobs even for his taste too much. Though, the character's editor had managed to make them look relatively natural, even with such tits. It didn't feel unnatural or askew. The Asian developers are great, I can't tell you that. Okay, let's make the boobs a little smaller. There, that's okay, somewhere between a C and a D. You could even go more towards a D. So, what else would you like to try? Oh, I wonder if I could change the nipples. Here we go.

For a few minutes Cyril continued to amuse himself by changing the size, colour and degree of convexity of the nipples but in the end he reverted to the original version, except that he made them a little brighter and more convex. Okay, now let's go to the back view. Well, the butt is completely satisfactory, tight, athletic. Nice. Come on! As soon as he wished, the elf immediately bent over, folding herself in half, sticking out her butt and showing off her rose, from which it was impossible to take his eyes off. If only there were such beauties in real life... What else could I change? Hmm... Her hair was not so good, Cyril was not too fond of short hair on women. What are the options? Wow, such a choice! So...

For a few minutes, Cyril played with the editor, changing the length, colour, and type of hairstyle. In the end, he left the colour the same, almost white, although the bright pink looked very funny, but still, it was... Well, it wasn't good. The Japanese would like it, though. They love pink hair, if the anime is to be believed. Cyril increased the length of the elf's hair considerably, bringing it to the middle of her shoulder blades. And what if... Cyril thought about it, as two thick strands on the sides of his head went down to the elven girl's breasts, covering her nipples in the best traditions of the same oriental animation. Nice! Anything else to add or change? Oh, tattoos!

Editing

Holy shit! A whole library of all kinds of signs, symbols and images opened up before Kirill. Abstractions, objects, animals, portraits – for every taste and color. Wow, no, these developers really worked hard! Okay, let's see... No, he doesn't like the tattoos on her face, they spoil the elf's natural beauty... Oh! What if the tattoos are in the style of Jack from Mass Effect? And again, as soon as Cyril thought about it, the elf's perfectly smooth skin was covered with tattoos like those of a crazy biotic from a BioWare masterpiece, giving her a brutal, boyish look. Heh, cool, but still... No, perhaps not. Maybe on the second round. Well, somehow Jack's tattoos don't suit this elf. Hmm... And why not?

In an instant, a stylized letter "C" in black appeared on the elf's pubis. Not bad! Or maybe red? No, black is better. Okay, what else could I add? For a moment, the idea flashed to add the inscription "Property of Cyril" to the tattoo, but almost immediately it seemed too vulgar to him. It is the Asians, if you believe the masterpieces of their animation, love to paint women's bodies with all sorts of obscenities. Cyril was not interested in such "graffiti". Okay, let's just leave the letter "C"

Hmm... What else could I add or change about her appearance? Eh, no, no, no, no, no, I don't want to make her a futanari! Damn, the Asians made the game for sure, because the selection of penises to add to the elfess was substantial. And it's not just about length and thickness. With or without a scrotum, permanent or retractable like in the cult ‘Black Bible’, fully-functioning, or just a version of a hypertrophied clitoris - there were a huge variety of choices! For a moment Cyril had a thought of adding a male penis to the character. But after thinking about it properly, he gave it up. Well, simply because if he imagined that he would meet such a beauty in real life, she would come to bed, and there... No, well, fuck it, Comrade Starponey - it's not for him. Okay, he seems satisfied with everything and doesn't want to change anything else... Then, let's move on to the next stage. What about class selection?

Confirm the changes made?

Yes, yes, of course. So, what about the character class?

Editing companion class is not available

What? What the hell is that? How that?

To make changes to the class status, increase the connection level

What fucking connection? What the fuck? Geez, don't tell me this is some kind of donation dump where you have to pay extra for every sneeze? Although, for this quality of content, he might have paid...

Cyril didn’t have time to finish this thought because of the darkness that had once again washed over him and the vile cold that touched his bones.

* * *

On a wide street surrounded by high-rise buildings of varying degrees of preservation, there stood a huge self-propelled stagecoach, the brainchild of a union of steam-magic-techno and who knows what other punk. The thing was definitely mega expensive, and filled with magic to the brim. And next to this stagecoach stood an ordinary young guy, in whom was no sense of magic at all, surrounded by several beauties of very diverse appearance. And in them, magic was felt wow! Even Cyril's mentor seemed like just a diligent student against their background. Perhaps, the Elder Enchantress could fit into their company, but that's not a fact either.

And so, this very ordinary young man, surrounded by such unusual women, was not just standing there, but swearing at the top of his lungs. The reason for his rage was clear. There was a blocker on one of the stagecoach wheels preventing it from going anywhere. Also the most ordinary, orange blocker. Without a drop of magic at all. But for some reason Cyril clearly understood that it would be very difficult to remove it from this mega-stagecoach.

"What the fuck paid parking?! The whole world has been going to hell for who knows how many months!!!"

"Slavik, don't shout like that..."

"No, I'm gonna scream, Isolde! Because what the fuck?! The world has collapsed, there's no internet!"

"Hay!"

"There is no normal Internet, Ira, normal, not that crap you connected to then!"

"We're connected! By the way, you voted for it!"

"It doesn't matter! No Internet! No food delivery! There's ALMOST NO toilet paper! And, damn, the paid parking in the center of Moscow is still intact! What the fuck!?"

"We're actually still outside the Moscow Ring Road....."

"Yeah, since when did Arbat become outside the Moscow Ring Road... Ah, well, yeah... But in any case, what the..."

Swearing and wailing of the unknown guy in the company of beauties continued for some time, after which he was forced to admit his defeat and the whole strange company went to deal with the issued fine and installed boot in a nearby building, with a familiar to Cyril inscription GIBDD ... True, the deciphering of the inscription he was a little confused. “State Exterminators of Brainless Dork-Peckerwoods” It seems this is not how it should be deciphered....
T.N.

* * *

A well-fed black man in gold-embroidered green robes stood next to a gaunt old man, also black, but dressed in some frankly poor clothes. Both of them looked apprehensively at the Barbie doll in the poison-pink dress lying on the table in front of them. A very ordinary Barbie doll, without any magic at all. Next to her in the same poison-pink costume, lay a Ken doll. Also very ordinary, without any magic at all. Kind of... Because the more Cyril looked at them, the more uncomfortable he became. Something was wrong with them... Wiping the sweat from his forehead, the well-fed man in expensive clothes turned to the old man and asked in a hoarse voice:

"Venerable Ngoro, what is this…?"

The old man, not daring to touch the dolls lying on the table, only shook his gray head and whispered in a quiet voice:

"I can't understand, venerable Khonga... I've never met anyone like them before... Such a dark force... Such a terrifying power..."

Turning to the big guy, he said with apprehension:

"They clearly did not come from the human world..."

* * *

"Cirial? Do you hear me?"

The familiar voice and another wave of pleasant warmth dispelled the darkness and the unpleasant cold. But this time they were replaced not by another dream, but by the sunlight that shone through his closed eyelids. When he opened his eyes, Cyril tried for a few seconds to realise where he was. It was difficult, because his whole body was cotton, his eyes were cloudy and double, and his thoughts were rattling around in his brain with a monstrous squeak. What the... Where is he... What... Oh, how he wants to sleep.....

"Cirial! Hold on, you'll be better soon!"

Someone's hot palm touched his chest, and from it another wave of pleasant warmth travelled through Cyril's subtle body, driving away the remnants of drowsiness and invigorating his mind. His eyes and head were a little clearer, but his whole body still felt weak. But at least he realised he was lying in bed, carefully wrapped in a blanket. What the? Cyril tried to sit up and wipe his still blurred eyes, but the young man barely moved as a sharp pain pierced his chest, which took his breath away. It was as if a dagger had been stabbed directly into his heart. Cyril opened his mouth in a mute scream, but almost immediately he felt the directional flow of warming heat from the woman's palm on his chest. The same warmth that had chased away the darkness and cold that had tormented Cyril all this time. It also took away the pain that pierced his chest, and in a few seconds Cyril was able to breathe normally again.

"Cirial, please don't move! Lie still for now and try to breathe slowly and deeply. That's it, good. Please drink this, it will make you feel better."

The bed Ciril was lying on suddenly curved gently, forcing him into a sitting position. The edge of the cup was carefully brought to his lips, and he took a few sips of the unexpectedly pleasant-tasting liquid.

"That's it, good, drink to the bottom. This compound will give you strength and ease the pain."

The drink was obviously not so simple, as soon as it touched his tongue, Cyril felt the magical energy in it. It was absolutely neutral, so it was absorbed without the slightest problem. With each sip, more and more pleasant warmth flowed through his body, and Cyril's mind and eyes became clearer and clearer. By the time he took the last sip, the young man could clearly see the familiar rooms of the Healer's Chambers and Geatral leaning over him. The elven healer's green eyes burned with magical fire, as did the gems in her tiara on her forehead. Taking the empty cup, she said in a stern voice without taking her eyes off Cyril:

"You should feel a little better now. But for now, try not to move unnecessarily, do not try to use magic or otherwise strain your subtle bodies."

“What happened?” Ciril whispered hoarsely, trying to understand how he ended up in the elven hospital again.

Each word was given with great difficulty, his tongue and lips obeyed him reluctantly. Geatral, continuing to look at him with eyes burning with magical fire, said:

"There was an assassination attempt on your life, Cirial, but your life is out of danger now. I have already notified the Queen and the Elder Enchantress of your awakening, they will be here shortly to explain everything to you in detail."

At those words, the last few minutes of memory flashed through Cyril's mind. Training with his mentor. The charm. Its removal. And then...

"Cirial! Calm down, or I'll have to put you into a forced sleep for a while longer!"

"I, uh, I've been charmed."

"Cirial! It's all right, calm down! You're safe now. You're not in any danger, but you can't stress!"

The healer reinforced her words with another touch on Cyril's chest. A wave of pleasant warmth spread from her fingertips again, this time only weakly, but the young man still felt his fear and anxiety recede. He exhaled deeply several times and made himself comfortable on the hospital bed, then whispered:

"How... how long was I... unconscious?"

"Almost two and a half weeks. For a little over a week, I fought for your life every day. The first day was the hardest, but after that it was easier, and you were slowly but surely getting better. But I still had to keep a constant eye on you to make sure you didn't relapse. Yesterday your condition stabilized, so today I decided to let you recover. Try to relax Cirial, you can't exert yourself right now, you're still too weak to hurt yourself."

"Good..."

When he closed his eyes, Cyril leaned back on the soft pillow and listened carefully to himself. And the first thing he immediately felt was a nagging pain in his chest. Right in the neighborhood of his heart. The cause was revealed at once - serious damage to the subtle bodies. The flow of reserve through the energy channels, which had already become habitual for Kirill, was completely disrupted, and it didn't even require any special checks to feel it. Some of the energy channels were specially blocked with healing magic weaves to exclude traumatic and uncontrolled loss of energy. And one of the main energy nodes, the Cardiac, was almost completely destroyed and held only due to the most complicated complex weave that made Cyril's heart beat. The neighboring ones were severely damaged and were also supported by someone else's magic. In addition to the healing weaves in all thin bodies, Cyril felt the protective magic surrounding him from all sides. It enveloped him completely in several layers, it was hard to understand more precisely. How he was still alive with such wounds....

"Cirial I told you not to strain your subtle bodies!"

The harsh shout from Geatral, who was watching him closely, made Cyril jerk involuntarily, and he tried to relax completely and ignore his wounds.

"Sorry, I was just trying to listen to myself..."

"You will have time for this, your treatment is still very far from being completed. I understand that it is not easy for you now and you instinctively want to check your subtle bodies, but you should not do it. Any tension of your aura or an attempt to run even the most minimal wave through your energy channels can lead to serious consequences. I literally had to manually save your subtle bodies from complete disintegration with the help of the Elder Enchantress. Just lie there and do nothing. I've given you a strengthening compound, you'll feel a little better soon. Just be patient."

And so it happened. About ten minutes later, the soft warmth of the healer-sorceress and the energy from the mixture he had drunk spread throughout Cyril's entire body. The aching pain in his chest became weaker, his head and eyes finally cleared up, and his health improved somewhat. He was even able to carefully assume a more comfortable sitting position on the medical bed. This time, when he tried to move, there was no pain, which Kirill reported to Geatral, who was watching him with her eyes burning with magical fire. And he finally asked her to explain what had happened to him. The healer examined him once more, nodded with satisfaction and touched the communication amulet with her hand. Immediately after that, the queen entered the Healers' Chambers, accompanied by the Elder Enchantress.

Both elves were as gorgeous and flawless as ever. Sivila wore a luxurious dress of green color embroidered with silver, and Mirael wore a blue one, also embroidered with silver. The elven women stopped next to Cyril's bed and politely bowed their heads slightly in greeting. The queen stopped his attempt to move with a graceful gesture and said in a sympathetic voice:

"Greetings, honorable Cirial. And on behalf of the entire Forest, I offer you my deepest condolences for the tragedy and wish you a speedy recovery. To our great regret, we once again underestimated the extent of Master's cunning and power, which almost led to a catastrophe."

Licking his lips and swallowing, Cyril asked cautiously, trying to speak as calmly as possible, though the more he listened to himself, the scarier he became:

"What exactly happened? The last thing I remember was mentor Diantrel helping me cleanse myself from the charm of an elven woman named Alatrel..."

With another smooth gesture, the queen stopped Cyril and said in a firm voice:

"We are aware of the incident that happened to you. But Alatrel is as much a victim of Master's perfidy as you are. Your spell was part of his plan to prepare and orchestrate the dastardly strike to kill you. We've conducted a thorough investigation that has almost completely reconstructed the events. Using a bookmark of subjugating artifacts left behind by his previous puppets. Master managed to take control of Alatrel, one of the Secret Guard's top experts in the field of charm magic. He used her to calculate you and target you through your prearranged artifact doll."

As the queen spoke, Cyril felt his fear growing more and more overwhelmed by the realization that he was on the cusp of death. Again! And this despite all the protection promised and provided to him by the elves! As if reading his thoughts, the queen continued:

"Such a blow is incredibly difficult to repel. We have taken unprecedented measures to protect you, but the power of the Puppet School lies precisely in the fact that impacts through a properly made doll are almost impossible to repel. The tremendous difficulty in making them is offset by their superior performance."

"I must say, Honorable Cirialle,” the Elder Enchantress said, looking thoughtfully at the young man, ”I was surprised during the investigation that you survived at all. That blow should have been fatal to you despite our best efforts and measures. As it turns out, you were saved by the fact that your mentor, my honorable apprentice Diantrel, used a rather effective, but also quite risky and not the most common healing technique known as “Pain Sharing”. She literally transferred a large portion of the blow you received to herself, giving you extra time until the healers arrived."

"And after that I had to save her from death for a few days and then get her back on her feet for another week,” Geatral added, ”though Diantrel was much less injured than you and has mostly recovered by now."

"But,“ the queen spoke again, and then all three elves looked at Cyril in a very strange and meaningful way, "when she came to her senses and we questioned her, it turned out that Diantrel did not know the technique of ’Pain Sharing” and did not use it. She tried desperately to save you by literally taking manual control of your heart, but there was no way she could take some of your injuries for herself. So we were all really hoping you could explain to us how this happened."

"Um... I don't... Right!"

After giving himself a mental kick, and only now noticing the dozen or so system messages waiting to be read, Cyril hurriedly and somewhat confusedly rambled on:

"Me, after I managed to cleanse the charms of that elven woman... What's her name... Alatrel! So, I got level 15 and an extra reward. I've been given a new active ability... What's the word... “Share the Chosen One's burden”, here! The point is, I can sort of share the System with someone else. There's a bunch of other stuff going on, I haven't quite figured out how it all happened. So I instinctively used it on my mentor."

As he spoke, the faces of the elves took on strange expressions. It made Cyril uncomfortable and gave him a very bad feeling. The Queen and the Elder Enchantress looked at each other, exchanging meaningful glances, then they looked at Cyril again, and Sivila said in a strange and a little thoughtful voice:

"So that's how it is... Unexpected and very interesting. In that case, honorable Cirial, I trust you can explain that as well."

The Queen made an inviting gesture, and Diantrel entered Cyril's hospital chambers walking leisurely towards his bed. As she approached, Cyril felt his insides grow cold again not from hostile magic but fear. And his hard-healed heart was clutched by an icy claw. Because there has been a... noticeable change in Deantrel's appearance. The familiar green costume of the Forest Guardian warlock barely fit over the elf's chest, though its collar was as loose as possible. Diantrel wasn't flat-chested, but she didn't have a very prominent shape either. She used to be. Now there was no trace of her former size three, replaced by a solid five. The elf's hairstyle had changed as well; there was no trace of her former short army haircut. Instead, she had a luxurious snow-white ponytail that reached the middle of her back.

As his mentor approached, time seemed to slow down for Cyril. He suddenly remembered one single dream from the whole series of dreams he had had while he was unconscious. A dream that he saw as the beginning of a computer role-playing game. The beginning of creating a character for himself, choosing his appearance, class, perks, and so on. And now, somehow, he was clearly aware that the 'character' he was 'editing' was Diantrel. And judging by what he was seeing before him, this dream had turned out to be no dream. Well, unless one assumes that during his treatment Diantrel had decided to drastically change her appearance. But for some reason, that didn't seem very believable.

It was at that moment, when he knew - YOU FUCKED UP, KIRITTO!” Okay, calm down, calm down, keep a nonchalant, at most slightly surprised face. You're fucked up, you're fucked up! Relax, you can do it! Stay cool, Cyril! Okay, listen. This is the most important moment of your life. Concentrate, stay focused, stay calm, and for God's sake, say something as convincing as possible. Otherwise you're fucked.

He said all this to himself as his mentor walked leisurely toward his bed. When she stopped beside him, she bowed her head in greeting, folded her arms across her now visibly prominent chest, and said in an extremely polite voice:

"Greetings, Cirial. Glad to see you're awake."

And she was silent, looking down at him with a very expressive look. And she wasn't the only one. All the gathered elven women were looking at Cyril very attentively. Fuuuuck... Okay, calm down. Cyril, pull yourself together! Otherwise you're fucked. So, it's time to show the legendary eloquence of isekai, allowing them to win the hearts of even thousand-year-old maidens! You can do it! You fucking have to!

Swallowing, the young man carefully and slowly raised his hands in front of him, palms facing forward. Looking into his mentor's violet eyes, he said, trying to keep his voice as firm and calm as possible:

"Hello, honorable Diantrel. It's good to see you in good health, too. The honorable Geatral informs me that you were also wounded."

"That's true,” the mentor bowed her head slightly, ”though I still don't understand exactly how it happened. All of it."

She emphasized the last word, and as if unintentionally moved her arms, folded under her breasts, which had increased by several sizes. Coughing, Cyril, still trying hard to remain calm, said:

"I believe... I mean, I'm pretty sure it's because I used the new ability I was given for reaching level fifteen on you. And let me say at once that I would never have used it on you without your consent and approval. In my defense I will only say that the situation was critical, I was dying, in total despair, almost unconscious, and acted literally on a whim. I humbly hope for your understanding."

"Is that so?" she asked in the same impeccably polite voice, continuing to stare at her student meaningfully. That's a very interesting ability you've been given, honorable Cirial. May I ask you to tell me more about it?"

"Yes, of course! Now, just a minute, I haven't quite figured it out myself. I haven't had time, you know."

"Of course, we'll wait. Don't rush, Cirial," the mentor's politeness somehow frightened Kirill even more than the failed assassination attempt.

Focusing on the system messages, Ciril opened them with a mental command and began to read one after another.

Attention!

New companion received!

Companion Status:

Name: Diantrel of the House of Winterblooms, daughter of Edenril.

Character level: 52

Connection level with the Chosen One: 1 (basic/initial).

Type of connection with the Chosen One: Mentor/Student.

Class: Battle Sorceress

Characteristics: (0)

Talents: (0)

Constitution: 3

Sensitivity:4

Power: 11

Control: 14

Source: 9

Spirit: 3

Resistance: 4

Existing knowledge: (#####)

Knowledge gained: (#####)

Existing properties: (#####)

Received properties: "Source of Magic";

System Properties: (#####)

Companion Modifiers: Share the Burden I

Okay, what the hell? What the hell is “#####”?! Where's the reference? Oh, I see. At the first level of connection, you only have access to the characteristics and some modifiers of a companion. There's no access to knowledge or properties. No way to improve the existing ones, no way to get new ones. And how do you level up to unlock all that? Well, well, well... Uh yo, okay, we'll deal with it later, there's such a list... What else is there? Oh! That's it! Well.

Attention!

New companion received!

One free edit of the companion's appearance is available!

Editing status:

Appearance editing: completed.

Additional changes (tattoos/signs/marks): made.

Confirmation of changes: confirmed.

Leveling out awareness of changes by others: rejected.

Whoa. What? What the... What the fuck! The reading made Cyril want to scream out loud. Saved only by the presence of four powerful elves, still watching him carefully. Very closely. What the fuck?! Fuck, System, where's the help desk?! Aah!

Turns out, he could make ANY changes to an associate's appearance, and, THADAM, level the awareness of the changes to those around him. I mean, even if he inflated Diantrel's boobs to a size ten, and activated the leveling, no one, ANYONE, would pay attention. Everyone, even those who would have known her for hundreds of years, would consider her new look NORMAL! Even after seeing previous images captured in portraits or crystals. The only one who could have pointed out the discrepancy would have been Cyril himself. Moreover, this system reference was issued separately, he could only do it of his own free will. Any extraneous influence on the mind blocked this possibility. Cyril would simply not remember about it.

How the fuck did this happen?! Fuuuuuck! Damn! All right, easy, what else is there?

Attention!

New companion received!

Companion modifiers are available!

Current modification level: 1.

Available companion modification points: 3.

New companion modification points are available at a rate of 1 for every 2 levels.

List of available special companion modifications:…

At this point, Cyril froze for a moment, because the list of special modifications was impressive and quite diverse. His eyes were running wild and his mouth was watering from the abundance of goodies offered to him. But first of all, he studied the modification he already had, "Share the Burden I". It was given by default with the acquisition of each new comrade, and it saved Cyril's life.

"Share the Burden I"

Allows to transfer up to a quarter of the physical or magical damage received by the Chosen One to a Companion. Allows to transfer up to a quarter of the effect of negative or positive magical effects to a companion. If damage or negative effects are transferred, the ally receives only one-fifth of them. If the Chosen One receives lethal or near-lethal wounds, the modifier triggers automatically, transferring the damage to the strongest of the companions. If the Chosen One suffers mortal or near-death wounds during a cooldown, the ability may take one penalty, followed by a block for three standard cooldowns.

Number of charges: 1

Cooldown: 1 week

At this point, the modifier was still inactive. Strange... Ah, that's what it was. If the logs are to be believed, it triggered twice, once in normal mode, the second time in emergency mode. As a result, almost half of the hit Cyril received transferred to Diantrel, leveling a fifth in the process. Still, Master's attack nearly killed Cyril and wounded Diantrel very seriously. Yeah, well...

Although, according to the System Reference, at higher levels, the effectiveness of this ability increased significantly. It could almost completely transfer a blow to a companion, and in the process of transferring it, it could burn two thirds of the blow. And what was transferred, in theory, could be immediately leveled by applying another modifier from the proposed list, because there were a lot of different options.

Instant FULL restoration of a follower's reserve, regardless of size, is available once a week on the first level of communication. And it works both ways! So Diantrel can restore his reserve as well! However, the charge of the ability at first level is only one for two people, not one for each, which is a bit of a shame. Instant healing of physical wounds, up to and including regeneration of lost limbs. True, provided the wounds were inflicted in a purely physical way, without damage to the subtle bodies. Otherwise, the effectiveness of healing fell depending on the degree of magical damage to the subtle bodies. Also once a week on the first level both ways. Healing of subtle bodies, working on the same principle! That's an ability he'll definitely take! He would have taken it right now, but at the last moment he decided not to rush and still coordinate everything with his mentor. She would probably approve, but it was better to discuss it with her first. Not only that.

Direct telepathic communication was also on the list, which could not be blocked in any way as long as the companion or the Chosen One was conscious and valid at any distance within one world. And according to the reference, at higher levels it will be possible to communicate not only mentally, but also to know where the companion is and what he or she is doing. And from a certain level, it will be possible, if desired, to even see the associate in the process of communication. Something like the possibility of creating an analog of a hologram, which only the Chosen One and the companion can see. And even “connect” outsiders to the conversation.

Eh, if Master had struck even a couple hours later Cyril had modifiers for instant healing of subtle and physical bodies... He could have transferred most of the damage instantly to Diantrel, and then healed her with a snap of his fingers! Thus negating much of the ultimatum effectiveness of the attack through that cursed doll. And if those modifiers had been pumped up, he could have leveled that entire attack! Almost entirely. Cyril immediately reprimanded himself. Who told him that Diantrel would agree to create a connection with him on the same day? So it was possible that a couple of hours wouldn't solve anything. A couple of days, or better weeks, or even better months....

But still, in the long run, you get almost natural fucking cheating! True, provided you have time to react and heal your companion! Because the system reference immediately told me that one should be careful with such tricks. In case of death of a companion, the Chosen One was subjected to serious penalties, and the stronger the connection was, the more modifications were invested, the more serious these penalties would be. Up to permanent loss of some of the characteristics! But still, it's an opportunity to survive almost any blow, even one! Okay, well, we'll have to deal with that later, in consultation with my mentor and the Elder Enchantress this time, so as not to make things worse than they are now. What else is there? Whoa! Wow...

Attention!

New companion received!

You have found your first companion who will share your burden as the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing Guard of the Balance of Powers!

Take care of it, for every companion who has shared with you the heavy burden of the Chosen One imposes upon you a great responsibility. For with great responsibility comes great power!

Received two free stat points!

Received four free stat points for a companion!

That's quite a paraphrase of Uncle Ben. That's not bad. I mean, it's fucking awesome! Two stat points! Free! And Diantrel gets four! Four! Well, there seems to be a chance to avoid trouble on the horizon. He had a suspicion that for THAT much reinforcement, she'd forgive him a sixth, eighth, or even tenth boob size. Or at least she wouldn't be so mad at him. Congratulations, Cyril, it looks like the total FUBAR has passed you by. You just have to make it look good. So, what else? Well, it's understandable, a talent point for level 15...

Attention!

The connection with the new companion has been successfully established!

Confirm activation?

So... I see, Diantrel hasn't been “activated” by him yet and doesn't have access to the System even in a limited way. Some kind of protection. Damn it, why doesn't the appearance change have a protection on it?! What the hell?! How come?! Admin, or whoever's in charge of the System?! Who should I complain to?! I have a sneaking suspicion that someone intentionally screwed him up by removing the fuse from his associate's edit while Cyril was unconscious. That's a fucking joke. Okay, let's not hurry with the “activation” of Diantrel, no matter what the accompanying effects will be. First we'll have to warn the mentor and, if necessary, prepare ourselves.

And he had to figure out how to explain it all to Diantrel in a way that wouldn't get him in trouble. He couldn't confess to her that he'd half-wittedly mistaken her for a computer game character, and that he'd grown her tits and changed her hairstyle, could he?! Although... Why not? Honestly tell her that he was half-delirious, that it was the effects of the ability and that was the result. And that if he were in his right mind and sober memory, he would never dare to do anything like that, and any changes would be made only with her permission and approval. It could work, in theory... Or maybe even say that the System adjusts a companion by default to the Chosen One's tastes? And if you don't make changes manually, or don't cancel them at all, it automatically makes the changes. And he was unconscious, and because of that... Wait... Shit... Soooooooooooo... There was also a tattoo on... Oh fuck... Faaaaaack... What can I think of that's more convincing?! Well, well, well, well... Oh! Well, well, well... Interesting....

Companion Modification: "Mark of the Chosen I"

Allows you to track the location of a companion within the same world. Allows you to transfer up to one-third of your reserve to a companion within a magical line of sight without any penalty once every three days. Facilitates all magical effects on a companion. Allows you to weaken or strengthen magical effects on a companion.

That's great! Just what is needed! The modifier is not useless, especially at higher levels. It's a pity that there's no possibility to view the full list of modifier development variations, but Cyril realized that there are limitations not only in the level of connection but also in its type. Well, he'll deal with that later. So, select, confirm... Done! Now the stylized letter “C”, which Cyril deliriously added to Diantrel's pubes, turned into the “Chosen One I” mark. And, according to the help from the System, before Cyril activates the companion, this mark should not be felt by the elf in any way. Magically. Physically, she must have detected it by now and assessed it, damn it. All right, well, that's settled, now comes the hard part. Convincingly explain what happened to four elven women, each of them not one hundred years old, in such a way that he would not be nailed on the spot. Or hurt in some other way. It's a piece of cake.

Having closed the system messages, Cyril took a deep breath, exhaled, and under the same attentive and polite glances of the gathered elves, said:

"I apologize, there were a lot of system messages."

Turning to his mentor, Cyril made a guilty face and said:

"About the change in your appearance. It's a consequence of one of the gifts I received when I gained a companion. I was once able to change the appearance of an associate at will. And let me tell you right away, honorable Diantrel, I would never change anything about your appearance without your consent...."

//“At least without the option of ‘leveling’ changes,” Cyril mentally added to himself.

"But... while I was unconscious the whole time, I kept dreaming all sorts of crazy stuff... And... Well... Anyway, it seems the possibility of changing the appearance was superimposed on another dream I had. I swear, I was sure it was a dream. I mean, you know how dreams are, you take everything for granted and natural! I thought I was creating a character for a computer game."

Seeing the eyebrows of his mentor and the others raise slightly, Cyril gave himself a mental smack, and hastily explained:

"Well, it's a kind of entertainment in my home world. There are games where you make up a character and take part in various adventures on his behalf. You need a special artifact device called a computer. Although, you can without it ... But, not the point! In general, in such games with the help of this artifact you can change the appearance of your character, adjust it to yourself, I mean, to your tastes... Well, in general, I dreamed about you, mentor, and I swear, I perceived you as such a character. So... I changed your appearance... I swear, if I had been conscious, I would never have done anything like that!"

After listening to Cyril's somewhat confused and stilted explanation, the elven women looked at each other, exchanging strange glances. Then Diantrel turned to her student again, bowed her head slightly and said in the same impeccably polite voice:

"I have heard your words, honorable Cirial. I do not doubt your sincerity, nor do I doubt that you are not to blame. And I suppose there is no way to reverse these changes?"

"Uhm... Just a moment... Let me see...."

After torturing the System Help for a bit longer, Cyril shook his head:

"Right now, that's not an option. But at higher levels of communication, as far as I can understand, there will be different options. Plus there are some modifiers that can help with that. Oh, speaking of which, uh, here's the thing."

The four elven women continued to scrutinize Cyril. Swallowing, the young man tried to portray embarrassment as naturally as possible and said:

"For the first companion, the System gave me a bonus, in the form of a random free modifier “ Mark of the Chosen One I”"

Having described it to the elves, Cyril continued, embarrassed:

"And here's the thing, if you don't select a specific type of tag and its location... They're randomly selected...."

Which was actually true, Cyril wasn't making anything up.

"And since I was unconscious."

Diantrel's face didn't change. Though it seemed to Cyril that one of her long ears twitched a millimeter. But her voice was still as polite as ever:

"I heard you, Cirial. Is there anything else you can tell me about the effects of your use of this ability?"

"Yes," Cyril said, allowing himself to smile. There is good news. You've been given four ыефе points! Plus, there are two more points of companion modifications. There's a very impressive list of all sorts of things!"

The four elven women exchanged glances again, after which Diantrel turned to Cyril and asked in the same polite voice:

"Considering what I know of your Soul Tablet... Four free gifts to enhance your characteristics... That's impressive. But, and that's what I wanted to ask you too, honorable Cirial, the thing is, I personally haven't felt any change in myself, aside from my appearance..."

"That's because you must be “activated” as a Companion first! I only found out about it now when I read the system messages, but I decided not to do it without your consent..."

Another exchange of glances, after which the mentor nodded to her student:

"A wise decision, and I thank you for it. And in that case, I suppose there is no point in delaying?"

The Queen and the Elder Enchantress looked at each other and shook their heads:

"If you're ready..."

"Quite. Cirial?"

"Okay. And, uh, done."

And nothing happened. One second. A second. And then Cyril felt as if he'd been electrocuted as if a wave of pleasant warmth had rushed through his subtle body again. It swept over Cyril's head, Diantrel groaned somewhere nearby, the voices of the queen and the other elves were heard... And then everything stopped as if nothing had happened. But no, after concentrating, Cyril felt that he was clearly aware of his mentor's location. Even when he closed his eyes, he knew where she was. And he also clearly felt the marker-beacon, which had become an integral part of her subtle body. Tuned perfectly to him and only to him. Even in his current state, he felt that he could tune in to her without much difficulty. Opening his eyes, Cyril saw Diantrel standing in the same place, eyes covered. She was supported on both sides by Mirael and Geatral. After a moment, she opened her eyes and spoke slowly:

"Marvelous…"

"How are you feeling?" asked Sivila warily.

"It’s... difficult to compare the sensations of acquiring the Tablet with anything... Now I feel fine. Just a minute..."

Standing up straight, Diantrel closed her eyes and said thoughtfully:

"So... Hmm... I see the writing of the Tablet... Hmm... I see... So far I can only access the lines responsible for the characteristics of the one gifted with it, and the gifts from the connection with Cirial. In order to see the other lines, you need to upgrade it... Hm... I see... I see...."

Opening her eyes, Diantrel suddenly looked seriously at Ciril and said in an equally serious voice:

"I must say that when I was asked to be your mentor, Honorable Cirial, I was warned of the possibility of such a thing happening and was introduced to some of the archives of ancient times. But I must say that I did not envision it happening in such a manner and under such circumstances. And with such consequences."

Cyril blushed involuntarily at these words. And sent the administrators mental rays of kindness in an extremely concentrated form. Seriously, why the hell should he now blush like a teenager who was caught watching porn and masturbating?! It was even an option to make the changes without anyone realizing it! Ahhhh, not fair! Out loud, of course, he said the exact opposite:

"Once again, I deeply apologize to you, and assure you that I would not have done anything like this without your approval."

"I am pleased to hear that, honorable Cirial. Though,” Diantrel's face became thoughtful, ”I will not deny that for such a small price as a small change in appearance, to gain such power... It is not even a small price, but ridiculous...."

"Just don't invest all the points at once!" Cyril blurted out, remembering how he had felt after acquiring advanced knowledge.

All four elven girls looked at him as if he were a first-grader who had given valuable advice to a medical science academician: wash hands before eating. However, the mentor answered Cyril just as politely.

" Of course, you have told me more than once how difficult it is for you after acquiring new lines. But still, thank you for your concern, honorable Cirial."

A slightly embarrassed Cyril nodded in response, and to cover the awkwardness he continued:

"There are still two modifiers left. If you don't have access to their list, I can give it to you or try to send it as a system message."

Turning away from her study of the newfound System, Diantrel glanced at the Elder Enchantress and the Queen before nodding to Cyril:

"Give it a try, as I don't have access to those lines of the Tablet. I only have access to the lines that describe the already available modifiers...."

Albeit not from the first time, but Cyril managed to drop a list of available modifications of the folower to his mentor. It took a long time to study it, because there were so many options. And very quickly they all together, including the Queen and the Senior Enchantress who participated in the discussion, came to a consensus that this list is not complete and depends not only on the level of connection but also on the type of connection. But even the options that were available were more than enough.

The first modifier chosen, by general agreement, was "Healing of the Subtle Bodies I" as the most necessary in this situation. Its description was extremely laconic.

"Healing of the Subtle Bodies I"

Completely eliminates any type of subtle body damage up to and including the master's level. Eliminates active or passive negative magical effects up to and including the master's level. Damage or effects of a master's level or higher are partially eliminated. Can be used repeatedly to eliminate the same effect.

Number of charges: 1

++Recovery: 1 week.

As soon as this modifier was chosen, Cyril immediately asked Diantrel to apply it. Which she did, under the attentive gazes of the other elves. Geatral was looking at the young man especially intently. As soon as the mentor applied the modifier, a wave of warming heat swept over Cyril's body from heels to the top of his head. It was as if he had dipped his head into a hot bath. But very quickly this warmth disappeared, having completely dissolved in the damaged parts of the thin bodies of the young man. Listening to himself, Cyril was surprised to find noticeable improvements, especially in the area of the long-suffering Heart Energy Node. From the state of “practically destroyed” it could now be safely transferred to “seriously damaged”. The affected energy channels were also strengthened. Some of them were not fully restored, but removing healing weaves from them did not threaten the young man with permanent loss of reserve.

In a word, although not a complete recovery, it is a significant step towards it. Geatral, not taking her eyes off Cyril, burning with magical fire, quietly said:

"Amazing... In just a moment, without any visible side effects... Incredible..."

Mirael, who was standing next to her, nodded in agreement:

"Truly an incredible sight. Venerable Cirial, how are you feeling?"

"Noticeably better,” replied the young man honestly, ”I think I can even get on my feet...."

And he did succeed, though with some difficulty, and with the support of his mentor. His body obeyed him normally, but the weakness was not completely gone, and neither was the pain in his chest. Though they were noticeably less now. Under the burning gaze of Geatral, who looked at Cyril with some unhealthy interest, he cautiously walked in a circle around his chamber, holding on to Diantrel's hand. It was only a few dozen steps, but by the end, Cyril felt his legs becoming cotton wool again, and he barely made it to the healing bed. There, surrounded by healing weaves, he felt better immediately. The healer who had been watching him waited until he was comfortable before she and the Elder Enchantress gave him a thorough examination. They reached a joint verdict:

“It’s amazing,” Mirael shook her head.

"I agree. According to my predictions, Cirial should not have gotten out of bed for at least another week," confirmed Geatral.

"Tell me, how long will it take for him to fully recover, given this new gift of the Tablet?" the queen inquired.

"It's hard to say, but if this effect continues... I daresay that in a month, combined with the planned treatment, we will achieve a full recovery. A month and a half, definitely."

"I am glad to hear that,” Sivila nodded and turned to Cyril, ”Honorable Cirial, are there any other gifts that can speed up your recovery?"

"Let me check now... Just a minute..."

Alas, there were none. Some modifiers could heal physical wounds. But Cyril didn't have them anymore. Some modifiers accelerated the passive regeneration of both physical and subtle bodies, but at the first level, their effect was insignificant against the background of the treatment that Cyril had already received. If he didn't have access to elven medicine, they would have helped him a lot, but there wasn't much point in taking them. So Cyril decided to give the last modifier entirely to his mentor. As he hoped, he earned one more plus in his karma after the embarrassment of enlarging his mentor's tits and adding a tattoo to the wrong place. Goddamn it, how could he screw this up, admins?! It's a good thing he didn't think to give Diantrel a dick, that would've been the end. She probably would have tried it on him.

Having driven away from himself the thought-image of his mentor, dressed only in leather belts with rivets, with a huge strap-on, Cyril turned to the queen, while Diantrel was thinking about the most optimal modifier option for herself:

"Tell me, honorable Sivila, were you able to find out anything about Master while I was unconscious?"

The queen turned to Cyril, looked at him for a second with her emerald eyes, and then nodded slowly:

"We have learned something, honorable Cirial. But I'm afraid it's not good news."

"For us or him?"

"For us, of course. Our gifted ones managed to create an imprint of his magical gift based on the artifacts and amulets we captured from his lab. We used this imprint to conduct a large-scale magical direction-finding operation that covered most of the western oikumene. The principle of such operations, as far as I know, Diantrel has explained to you, and I don't need to explain them to you?"

“Yes, we went through this in ritual magic classes,” Ciril nodded.

"In that case, you can imagine what it was. We had hoped that such a targeted search would allow us to narrow down the region of the Master's search, if not to determine his exact location. But to our regret, the assumptions of some of the Secret Guard's analysts have come true. The exact location of Master could not be determined, not even approximate. And, judging by the response we received, the reason is that Master is hiding in the Underground."

"And... Is that good or bad?"

" It depends on which way you look at it. On the one hand, the Underworld is objectively smaller than the surface, and there are far fewer inhabited areas. Most of it is either Neutral or Wildland. The latter are far more numerous than the former, and even most of the intelligent inhabitants of the Underworld avoid them. They have good reason to do so. The analysts of the Secret Guard believe that even Master would be unsafe there. Though they're not entirely sure. But even if he manages to deal with the inhabitants, it will inevitably draw attention to him."

After pausing, as if thinking about something or remembering something, the queen continued:

"Thus, there are relatively few places in the Underworld where he can hide. It's likely to be the Neutral Territories, because the cities of the Underworld are hard for a ground dweller to get lost in, even one like Master. The inhabitants are not known for their... friendliness and hospitality. On the other hand."

Here the queen's face darkened.

"It is impossible to organize as large-scale magical search in the Underworld as on the surface. Its very nature will not allow it. Hundreds of underground halls, many of them huge, are separated by the thickness of the earth, natural energy flows, magical anomalies and many other things that are not found on the surface. So, if he already had a safe haven prepared there, his search could become very difficult. Of course, we will not stop them, and we hope for your help, honorable Cirial. I will give you more details as soon as you are fully recovered."

"I'll do what I can,” the young man said grimly, his chest aching again.

"I’m glad to hear this,” the corners of the queen’s lips barely noticeably rose.

Further conversations boiled down to a discussion of the modifier for Diantrel. This discussion lasted quite a long time because Cyril's mentor approached her choice extremely seriously. As a result, she stopped her first choice on the following:

"Magic Restoration I"

Fully restores the magical reserve of a Fellow or Chosen, regardless of its volume. One emergency use is possible, followed by a penalty on use for up to three standard recovery periods.

Charges: 1

Recovery: 1 week

As soon as Cyril confirmed the choice of the modifier, he and Diantrel simultaneously received an unexpected system message:

Attention!

The modifiers "Mark of the Chosen I" and "Magic Restoration I" have entered into synergy!

Full restoration of the reserve and transmission of up to a third of the reserve are now possible at any distance.

The bonus was unexpected and very pleasant. The system help didn't say a word about it while Cyril was choosing a modifier together with the elves. The Elder Enchantress and the mentor immediately suggested that such synergy must also be present in the regenerating skills. And it was quite possible that with the increase of modifiers and the level of communication, the synergy would increase. Therefore, the next modifier, when Cyril would recover and reach the seventeenth level, was decided to take ‘Physical Healing I’. Surely, it would have synergy with ‘Healing of subtle bodies I’

When this stage was over, it was time for the sweetest part. Cyril tried not to show, but he was tempted from the very beginning to invest the obtained characteristic points. Two whole points!!! Ugh... His hands were itching to press the nonexistent button and bring Power to the cherished ten. Although there was a temptation to put both points into the Constitution, bringing it to a three. Which, according to the idea, was supposed to strengthen Cyril's physical condition and speed up the recovery process. However, he was firmly stopped by Geatral, who stated that any manipulations affecting subtle bodies were not allowed in his condition. Yes, thanks to the applied modifier, his health had improved considerably, but that didn't mean he could take unnecessary risks.

So, no manipulations with subtle bodies! No, of course, if Cyril wants it so much, she will not stop him. But she wouldn't treat his mutilated subtle body either. After such a serious threat from the healer, he had to accept it and postpone the increase of characteristics until the moment of recovery. But Diantrel did not delay her enhancement, and under the supervision of the others, she invested the first of her four characterisation points, bringing the Source up to ten.

As soon as she confirmed this action, her aura literally flashed in the magical vision. Even Cyril, who hadn't looked closely because of his condition, saw the thin body of his mentor glow. This went on for about a minute while Diantrel stood still and closed her eyes. When she opened them, they were literally glowing with violet fire, and a blissful smile appeared on the elf's face:

"Unbelievable…"

"How are you feeling?" Mirael and Geatral asked almost in unison and with undisguised interest.

"Wonderful! The sensation of gaining this enhancing gift is... very pleasant, though also quite... unusual...."

"It's amazing," the healer said as she walked round Diantrel, "such a change in just a few moments... And without any flaws or distortions... Truly, the power of the Tablet is incredible...."

"Couldn't agree with you more...Awww."

"What is it?" All three elves were alert when Cyril's mentor suddenly yelped.

"The Tablet has granted me a few more lines, for reaching the tenth in Source. Now... I see...."

For about another minute, the mentor, staring into space in front of her, studied the system message, and then voiced it:

Attention!

The "Source" characteristic has reached a value of 10.

Select one of the two properties.

1. ‘Source of Magic’ The recovery rate of your reserve is permanently increased by a quarter. Energy fusion with another gifted accelerates the mutual recovery process. Maximum effectiveness when fused between a Folower and a Chosen One.

2. ‘Magic Accumulator’ The volume of your magic reserve is permanently increased by half. This coefficient is retained when you further increase the volume of your magic reserve.

Now Cyril was almost certain that even if he had enlarged his mentor's tits to size ten, she would have forgiven him. Because even for him such an increase was very cool. And for his mentor, who was almost twice as strong as him in terms of characteristics, it was awesome! And even though it couldn't be said from their faces, Cyril was willing to bet his own two points of characteristics that Mirael and Geatral were now involuntarily jealous of his mentor. Even the queen probably wouldn't mind such a thing, though she wasn't an active practitioner of magic as far as Cyril could tell.

After a long discussion, Diantrel chose the first option. It was a good way to speed up Cyril's training, whose main limiting factor was his limited reserve and its exhaustion. On that optimistic note, the mentor, the Queen, and the Elder Enchantress left Cyril, wishing him a good rest and a speedy recovery. And Geatral gave him another strengthening and nourishing compound. It satisfied his hunger and eased the pain in his chest, and after it, Cyril was immediately drawn to sleep. But this time it was a normal sleep, without attacks of vile chills.

* * *

Stopping the volumetric projection of the recording of the conversation with the otherworlder, Sivila leaned back in her chair and asked:

"What do you think?"

In a separate meeting room, as secure and isolated as possible, Third, Mirael, and First sat at a round table, in addition to the Queen. The latter took the floor:

"Well, that's what we envisaged. We'll have to make the stipulated adjustments. From this point forward, Diantrel is considered compromised a prior."

The Elder Enchantress visibly darkened at these words and asked in a quiet voice:

"Grounds? We've subjected her to two thorough checks, and they revealed no evidence of any extraneous marks. Nor, as far as I can tell, did the Guest's inspection reveal any malicious intent. What happened is really more of a misunderstanding than anything else."

"The ‘Guest’ was tested with as gentle an alchemy as possible, it wasn't a full-fledged truth serum even close, and he could very well lie if he wanted to. Or, even more easily, distort the truth, or understate something. Only a full consciousness check could rule that out, but I insist on avoiding anything above the first step."

After rewinding the record to the moment where the isekai was embarrassed to justify himself to his mentor for the embarrassment, First continued:

"But we can assume with a high degree of probability that if he was able to change Diantrel's appearance, there is a possibility that in time he will be able to change her consciousness as well. There are examples in the archives of such a link between the owners of the Soul Tablet and non-gifted sentients. And there are examples of what such a connection, even the most innocent at first glance, can lead to."

Making a brief gesture with his hand, First rewound the image to the moment when “Guest” was describing to Diantrel the other aspects of the ability he had used:

"And in our case, the connection is far from innocent enough since it allows such a thing to happen."

“He mentioned that the type of connection he and Diantrel had formed is Mentor-Student,” Sivila added.

"For now. But there's no guarantee that it can't be changed to Master-Slave, Maid-Master, or something similar. Or that the connection won't show up as Mentor-Student to Diantrel and Master-Slave to “Guest”. So we can't rule out the possibility that he could eventually gain control over Diantrel without us knowing it. And so, from now on, she is considered compromised and we will act on that constant. Also, here's Ziander's report."

In a moment, a three-dimensional image of a woman's crotch appeared above the table, with a stylized letter "C" emblazoned on the pubis. And next to the image were neat lines of text.

"As an expert of the School of Branding, whose opinion we have no reason to distrust, this “Mark of the Chosen One” differs little in its basis from a magical brand. And, according to his own conclusion, it can be modified into such a mark. It is almost impossible to remove it without seriously damaging Diantrel's subtle body. And even blocking it would be quite problematic, though Ziandar promised to work on it."

Looking carefully into the eyes of those present at the table, First said:

"Therefore, from now on, Diantrel will be considered compromised a priori. All the more so because now it cannot be ruled out that she will voluntarily tell the “Guest” something unnecessary."

"Do you think she might betray the Forest?" asked Sivila with the utmost seriousness."

In response, First nodded without hesitation and rewound the recording of the conversation:

"It would be extremely foolish not to consider it. As she'd said so correctly and honestly, the enlarged tits were a small price to pay for the power she'd gained. Four gifts from the Soul Tablet at once, for practically nothing and in an instant. She had only used one so far, but even that was enough to appreciate how much it was for her. Even without taking into account the additional gift she had received. Altogether, it was more than she or any other gifted person of her level could have gained in a decade of labor because each next step was more difficult for a gifted person than the last. In an instant, a single instant, she came closer to becoming a full magister today than she had in the last hundred years. Such power is a huge temptation for even the most stalwart of the firstborn."

"With all due respect, I still believe in my apprentice, and that she will not betray the Forest,” Mirael said firmly, ”Besides, we checked her out very carefully before approving her to mentor the otherworlder. She made many vows, including some that she doesn't remember, volunteering to have her memory partially erased before she began her work."

In the look of First, cast at the Elder Enchantress, there was nothing but indifferent and endless fatigue:

"Your faith, honorable Mirael, is entirely your own affair. To stake the fate of our branch of the firstborn on it would be the greatest folly. As for all the precautions we've taken and the oaths we've sworn to Diantrelle, they can all be negated by the one gift the patroness of the Guest decides to bestow upon him. No one envisioned him gaining such an ability this way, did they? So where's the guarantee that in two more steps, he won't gain something else? Something he chooses not to tell us about? Like some gift that will make Diantrel completely loyal to HIM and not the Forest?"

Looking around at the rest of the firstborn with his dark grey eyes, First continued:

"Therefore, all our further actions will be based on the fact that Diantrel has been compromised. Especially since we had planned for such a scenario in advance."

"Since things have worked out the way they have, perhaps we should use it the other way round?" suggested Sivila thoughtfully, "He clearly has a certain liking and attraction for her..."

"Any human of his age would feel that way about firstborn women," Mirael grinned.

"Not any, there are those who are attracted to young men, not girls," said Third, nonchalantly.

"In our case," Sivila continued unperturbed, "he's clearly attracted to Diantrel. And since she's bound to him now anyway, why not use that to bind him to us? It would also give us a chance to see how their bond changes."

The Elder Enchantress cast a slightly surprised glance at the queen, but First and Third nodded thoughtfully, after which the aged elf said:

"It's an option to consider, but I wouldn't recommend rushing into it just yet. It's too soon to put a firstborn girl under him. It would be better to stick to our original plan, that such a thing should be the highest reward for him, something he should work long and hard to achieve."

Mirael, noticeably gloomy about the situation with her student, nodded:

"I agree, there's no need to rush into this just yet. Let him be content with his maids for now. And what about Alatrel?"

"I suggest involving her in the operation, since everything turned out this way," said Third.

“It’s risky,” the queen noted cautiously, “given her methods, as well as her first encounter with the ‘Guest’… He might want to take revenge on her and use the powers granted by the Tablet for that.”

"We will provide additional instruction to Alatrel so that she refrains from her usual methods of work and training. And we will explain to the "Guest" that the blame for what happened lies entirely with Master. According to his psychological profile and mental abilities, he will most likely draw the right conclusions from the situation and will not escalate the conflict."

"And what if he liked her methods on the contrary?" Sivila suggested, remembering the footage of the foreigner licking the feet of his dear aunt's best student in the difficult business of magical seduction, “Mortals sometimes have very different preferences in bed. It can lead to unpredictable consequences."

//‘’No way Gradiana gain even the slightest power over him through Alatrel,‘’ Sivila added to herself, but aloud she continued:

Moreover, it is impossible to teach methods of protecting the mind without explaining the methods of influencing it. And this, together with the powers that the Tablet grants him, can give him the ability to influence the mind similar to those demonstrated by Master.

"So far, the Guest has not demonstrated any particular perversions in bed, so I estimate the probability that he will like the classical training methods practiced by Alatrel is rather low,” Third shook his head, ”Also, to date, he has demonstrated complete loyalty to the Forest and a high degree of control. Including the process of ascending the endless steps of the Tablet. He coordinates his choice of new powers with his mentor and has never tried to conceal it. On that basis, I consider the potential risk of involving Alatrel in his training minimal. As opposed to the possible benefits. If it comes to a direct confrontation between the Guest and Master, he will not stand without proper protection."

"Such a clash is a distant prospect," First, who had been silent until now, shook her head thoughtfully, "As for the possible involvement of Alatrel in his training, I approve. He'd have to learn to defend his mind anyway, and she's one of the best at what she does. But I agree with Sivila, given their first acquaintance there could be complications. Which means we need to make sure they don't. We'll give Alatrel a thorough briefing and talk to the Guest."

"I propose to proceed on the basis of how their reacquaintance will go. Given his circumstances, there are various possibilities, including some unfavorable for us. His youthful pride may flare up, or he may have a desire for revenge and payback, which he will not manifest. And just because the Guest has been reasonable up to this point doesn't mean he'll continue to be so,” the queen suggested.

“I agree,” Mirael nodded, “we’ll start with how their second acquaintance goes.”

Turning to Sivila, she asked:

"What about organizing the search in the Underworld? How did the conversations with our dark sisters go?"

"Successful. The Matriarchs of the Great Houses of Senrass and Shaalas have agreed to assist us in organizing the search for the Master in the Underworld. They were joined by a significant number of other Houses. However, they warned me that they could not guarantee the effectiveness of the search in the Underworld, due to its specifics. Cialana and Ilsara warned me that there was a great risk that someone from the dark branch of our people might commit a rash act, thinking himself the smartest. Either seeing in Master an opportunity to elevate their House or to consolidate the influence they already have. Both, Silk Spiderwoman and the First Mother of Antak on Shardan themselves shun such short-sightedness. Especially Cialana."

“Undoubtedly,” said First in an infinitely tired voice, “it is very difficult for two spiders to get along in the same web."

Turning to Sivila, he asked:

"What about your pet Hunter? How much do you trust him?"

"Enough to involve him in the search for Master. After all, he was already very involved in them and agreed to continue. Luaval could lead one of the Underworld Corps search parties. Or he could go it alone. But he hinted very clearly that he would like to be rewarded for such a risk,” Sivila said the last phrase with a meaningful look at Third.

He nodded faintly and opened his mouth before he could say anything, interrupted by the quiet tune of his emergency call amulet. He quickly clutched it in his hand and listened to it for a few seconds, and then the face of the current Head of the Secret Guard darkened for a moment. Only for a moment, but in his case that was rare. He looked around the table with a hard stare, and then he spoke sharply:

"There is a possible trace!"

//“Goodbye sleep,” Sivila said mentally, but she didn't show it outwardly. She felt a spark of excitement in her heart. Mirael was also visibly animated, and even First moved forward a little and spoke briefly:

"At last."

* * *

A few minutes later, the four of them were already at the operational headquarters for the search for Master, where the senior agent on duty reported to them about the news he had received:

"Four days ago an expedition to the Underworld organized by the Adventurers Guild with the help of several Trade Houses and under the patronage of Violetta Edelhart left the Free City of Normgrave. This expedition had long been planned and was almost ready to depart, but the events in Iyastar and the further search for Master disrupted all plans. The Adventurer's Guild turned their attention to him, throwing some of their best men into the raids, and Normgrave, like many other cities, went into a semi-siege state. But as time went on, there was no progress in the search. The expedition was delayed, people were idle, and money was lost. This displeased the representatives of the Trading Houses, who had invested a lot of money in this venture. But the leadership of the Adventurer's Guild and Duke Darmond kept it in check."

"A few days ago, however, Violetta Edelhart had organized a meeting between representatives of the Duke, the Trading Houses, and her colleagues at the top of the Normgrave branch of the Adventurer's Guild. At this meeting, she managed to convince everyone to authorize the expedition."

When Sivila and the others arrived at headquarters there was a map of the Underworld territories projected above the table, located approximately under the northern coast of the Middle Sea. In particular, under Normgrave.

"One could put it down to the fact that human greed had once again triumphed over their prudence. But it turned out that this time it had been helped to triumph. One of the participants in that fateful meeting, a representative of the Trading House that had invested in it, had today come under a really sudden inspection by Duke Darmond's secret guard along with the priests and paladins of the Keeper of Oaths. And in his mind, they had suddenly discovered fresh traces of another's will. And it concerned the very meeting about sending an expedition into the Underworld. An additional check was made, and it turned out that at the meeting Violetta Edelhart had persuaded all those gathered to give her the go-ahead with more than logical arguments. And at the same time, to make additional financial and material investments in the enterprise. Quite a substantial investment."

By this point in the report, the map of the Underworld in the halls adjacent to the one through which expeditions were sent from Normgraf had several dozen markings on it. And more and more were being added, some made by First himself.

"At first, everyone thought that Violetta Edelhart wanted to increase the already considerable profit from a rather promising but very risky expedition in such dishonest way. And they were about to express their most serious claims, which threatened her with considerable problems."

"But it turned out that she is no longer in Normgrave, and the expedition is no longer in contact," finished the speaker First, without taking his eyes off the map.

"That's right. Urgent searches revealed that instead of Violetta, her affairs from home were handled by one of her assistants whose mind had also been processed. In addition to Lady Edelhart herself, her best Blades, both of her children, and, if her husband is to be believed, quite a few of the most valuable family artifacts and amulets were missing. True, his words need verification, for he, like most of the household servants, has also been found to have traces of mind-affecting effects. There is no direct evidence, and there is a possibility that all this is an operation of the same brain-eaters, but considering the results of the Master's search..."

"It could well be him," First finished for the speaker.

And then he said thoughtfully:

"It's strange. This is too obvious a trace for him."

"A distraction?" suggested Third.

"Or an act of desperation?" Sivila said.

"Anything is possible,” said First, keeping his eyes on the map.

Adding a couple more marks on it, he spoke up, turning to Sivila.

"Contact the matriarchs of the Great Houses of the dark branch of our people, the Patriarchs of the strongest dwarven clans, and the heads of the largest packs of Skaven. The Brain-eaters... it would be better not to involve them for now, in case this expedition turns out to be really their operation to get a large batch of skilled slaves. We need to organize a large-scale raid, search here, here and here. Such a crowd of groundlings physically could not be lost in the Underground without a trace, there will be many traces. In addition, the local inhabitants are sure to keep the exit to the surface under surveillance, so this expedition must have been followed."

"For sure."

"Also, we need to send task forces to Normgrave and thoroughly check everything there. I daresay the city was put on lockdown as soon as it was reported?"

"Of course. But I must say that we are not the only ones who have sent agents there. In Normgrave, a reinforced squad of Bright Paladins has already arrived from Iyastar and is now actively involved in the search."

"No problems arose?"

"Thanks to the mediation of the Oath Keeper's priests and paladins - no, but everyone in the city is nervous. The Sunworshippers are not well-liked in the Confederacy, and there's an entire reinforced detachment of select paladins, backed by priests and probably a few Daughters and Sons of the Reverend Mother. From reports, however, they seem to be behaving with surprising restraint."

"At least it's a good thing. Instruct our agents to avoid conflicts with sun worshippers as well. Also organise..."

While First was giving out instructions, Sivila tensely and carefully studied the map of the Underground territories under Normgrave, which was already thickly covered with markings and icons. The number of underground halls to work in made Sivila mentally groan. About half of them belonged to the Wild Territories. Which they were for a reason. The number of tales of unknown monsters dwelling in the depths of the Underworld could only be rivaled by the number of similar tales of monsters dwelling in the depths of the seas. Including the subterranean seas.

And to the queen's great regret, too many of them were justified. A particularly unpleasant one for Sivila was one of the locked underground halls that adjoined the two Wild Territories marked by First. All the passageways to it were marked as guaranteed to be blocked, but all the places adjacent to it were marked as especially dangerous. The isolated underground hall itself was labeled with the succinct “Deadly Danger. Avoid." This inscription was on top of another inscription that indicated the name of the underground city: “Diyarten”. And this city was crossed on the map by a crack running through the entire underground hall where it was located. Yeah...

"Take into account this could all be an organised distraction operation by Master, and he is still on the surface."

"But the results of the magical search..."

"They don't give a 100% guarantee in his case!"

The discussions and the distribution of instructions continued for a very long time…

* * *

A middle-aged man of sturdy build and military bearing watched from the top of a gentle cliff as the camp was set up. He was dressed in fine chainmail armor, with several protective amulet plates woven into the center of the armor. The same plates were embedded in his armor, stitched into his pants around his hips, and even the wide, rounded belt buckle was a separate amulet to protect a very sensitive part of his body. The helmet on his head was not simple either, it bore a complex set of charms. They granted the wearer classic magical vision and its more specialized variants, like “Warm Eye” or “Night Sight”. That was not unreasonable in the Underworld.

The man had with him a good and powerful battle wand, not a simple one, but with removable crystals, which allowed him not only to quickly replenish its reserve in battle but also to change the type of attack. The man had two pouches of these crystals, not counting a couple of disposable explosive throwing wands. In addition, he had a small wooden shield on his left arm, shrouded in iron around the edges. In essence, it was one large protective amulet, with a very powerful barrier weave embedded in it. You can use it to protect yourself and your companions. And even, with proper skill and a share of luck, to reflect a flying magical projectile to the enemy. Not all of them, but the same magical arrows, so beloved by magicians of all sorts, the man was quite able to reflect them.

Such a set of armor and weapons cost a lot of money, but the commander of a full-fledged gold star of the Adventurer's Guild could afford it. Especially considering that his patron was not stingy with the maintenance of her personal blades. And doubly so when it came to such a serious operation as an expedition to the Underworld. It was a dangerous and ruthless place, but it held great riches waiting for those who had the strength, courage, luck, and skill to get them. It was not unreasonable for the man to think they had enough of all this, and the chances of success were quite decent. Especially since Mistress Edelhart had managed to outdo herself by not only extracting additional money and resources from the peddlers but also a portion of their personal blades, which would never be superfluous in the Underworld.

He had learned from personal experience that surface guests could only feel relatively safe in two cases. The first is when there are few of you and you are very good at hiding. The second is when there are many of you and you are very well armed and prepared, and the locals will think three times whether it is worth it. It is clear that neither the first nor the second option will give a full guarantee of safety, but in their case, the second option was more than justified. A little more than a hundred well-equipped blades, yes, not all of them had been to the Underworld before, but all of them were experienced fighters, skillful, disciplined and strictly obeying his commands as the senior leader of the expedition's combat wing.

A little lacking in coherence, but it's a matter of time. Especially pleasing is the quantity and quality of magical support. Two dozen gifted, of which seven have deserved patents at the level of adepts, and that's only those who belong to the fighters. And that's not counting Little, who was almost the main asset of his star in terms of magical power. She didn't have a master's patent yet, but in five to ten years she would definitely reach it. In any case, she knew how to strike with thunder and lightning, especially if she was properly prepared beforehand. More than once and more than twice she helped his squad with her sorcery, for which she was very much loved, appreciated, cherished, and even forgave some of her whims.

So this time he had almost two adepts per twenty-man squad, which wasn't bad. It's not bad, especially considering how generously the moneybags and Lady Edelhart had splurged on supplies. And there were a dozen gifted noncombatants, two of whom were patented adept healers, each with their own apprentice. The rest of them specialize in all sorts of search and protection weaves, without which it would be suicide to go into the Underworld in such a crowd. And Lady Edelhart's new assistant, who, according to Little, is a very strong master of magic, if not a Magister. Though the latter is obviously her imagination, because where would you hire a full Magister to serve you? They'd rather hire you.

Of course, if you are the Illustrious Caliph or the King of the Isles, you can afford the services of such a strong gifted person, but Lady Edelhart has not reached such heights yet. But even if he is a strong master of magic, one wonders where she hired him... But that's none of his business. The main thing is that he knows what he's doing, and he won't be a burden on the expedition. He managed to catch the quiet underground удмуы, who were keeping an eye on the entrance from the surface. They had no time to make a noise before they were bundled up and dragged to the camp! And how they were staring with their red eyes of impotent anger was just hilarious! Especially their main one! Should I persuade Lady Edelhart to keep her as a bed warmer? No, I don't think she'd do that. There's a lot of money to be made from five subterranean witches, they've already paid for this expedition by a quarter or even a third.

Amazingly, how could he even notice them? There was no doubt that the sharp-eared were watching the known entrance to the Underworld, and it was surprising that only the five of them were watching. But to notice them and to swaddle them, how could he manage to do that... Oh, well, that was not his concern, but the new Lady Edelhart's assistant. His job is to ensure the safety of the expedition. Because in addition to the hundred-plus fighters, there are almost a hundred noncombatants. Of which only three dozen are experienced walkers in the Underworld who have been here several times. The rest are all first-timers. And no matter how you explain everything to them ten times, no matter how you instruct them, there are still a dozen hard-headed ones who will manage to find a crevice with dwarf shit and twist their leg in it.

But, praise be to Lady Fortune, there were very few of them this time, and on the whole, there had been no serious problems, which was gratifying. The descent was almost perfect, and there were no problems in the Hallway, as they called the hall of the Underworld, the nearest known entrance to Normgrave. Even with the representatives of the rat clan that lived nearby and fed off the trade between the Undergrounders and the Grounders, they managed to reach an agreement without any problems. They were surprisingly quick to agree to provide a pack of their scouts to accompany the expedition, and on fairly acceptable terms.

Of course, if it were up to him, he wouldn't have let those Skavens anywhere near the expedition, but he had to admit they were of considerable use. Only fools, who had never been below their mother's cellar, think that if you go to the Underworld, you'll find untold riches everywhere. At every step there are precious crystals, veins of gold and silver, magical herbs and living waters that heal any wounds and make your dick hard for six months. No, there are such things here, but not in those halls that lead to the surface and through which trade with underground cities goes on. It's all searched ten times over, just like most other places. No, even in this hall you can gather all sorts of Underworld herbs that alchemists will always buy willingly. But only ordinary herbs, mushrooms, and mosses of the Underworld will not pay for such an expedition. You need the real riches of the Underworld!

And for them we must go to the Wilderness! Places dangerous and untravelled! Here the Skavens were a great help because they were locals. They lived here and knew a lot. Which paths to avoid and which ones to shorten. Where the collapse, and where the flood happened, which hall can now be erased from the map, and which, on the contrary, recently opened. Where some underground beast has settled, or where the locals have killed it. It's true that you have to hold their tails tightly, because it's a good thing for these little rats to throw an earthling. But Lady Edelhart can't be fooled, she knows how to deal with more than that. How to draw up a blood and magic contract, what kind of vow to take, and what kind of deposit to give. No need to explain that to her. So you don't have to worry much about the tailed guides. Besides, her assistant promised to help with them. However, he still didn't understand how he would help, but there were really no problems with the Skavens.

They behaved humbly and pointed the way in the right direction, where even the carts, specially made for the Underworld, could pass two in a row. This considerably accelerated the movement of the expedition. They also warned about predators in advance, though no one who could pose a serious threat to the expedition had been caught yet. One Ceiling Flyer-wing overgrown because of magic or some evil thing could not be considered as a real danger. Little saw it in advance and knocked it down with her lightning. The Skavens ate it at the nearest camping place. They gnawed it with the bones, which is also a good thing, less food to waste on them. What are they doing now, by the way?

Looking around the camp, the man quickly found a group of Skaven sitting apart from the others, eating the daily rations that were part of the agreed-upon fee for their services. Now, where are the other two? Right, escorting patrols. Good. Well, everything seems to be in order. The man took another look at the camp from the top of the gentle cliff, clenched the amulet in his fist, and said a short “Report” in his mind.

One by one, the commanders of the four squads briefed him on the state of affairs. There were no problems that required his immediate attention, which was encouraging. The patrols were set up, duties were assigned, the dwarf horns were groomed, and the food would be ready soon. After accepting the reports, the man descended from the cliff, where a trio of sentries immediately took up their post, and together with his companions headed for a free-standing tent in the center of the camp. Such a thing was a luxury on such an expedition, but since Lady Edelhart had decided to accompany them, they would have to be patient. One such tent was no great trouble.

And he would feel better for her because even though it seems to be a tent, it is not inferior to any other fortification in terms of the strength of protective charms. If you look closely with magical eyesight, you can see how waves of magic roll through the fabric, and that's only those that can be seen. As he approached the entrance, where a couple of bodyguards were on duty, he nodded to them briefly and, taking the communication amulet in his hands, asked mentally:

//"May I come in, Lady Edelhart?"

He received an answer almost immediately.

//"Come in, honorable Orin"

The man bent down and went inside his patron's tent with the Little One. The tent was even slightly larger inside than it was outside. As far as he knew, such magic increased the value of a tent by an order of magnitude, which, combined with the protective enchantments, made it worth the price of a ship. Lady Edelhart, with her hair loose, wearing a bright red robe of expensive silk imported from the Eastern Empire, stood before a tall mirror in a heavy metal frame and gazed at herself. For a moment, Orin wondered why such a heavy thing had to be brought with her on this expedition, but he dismissed it immediately. If the lady needed it, she needed it. He wasn't paid to ask questions but to keep her alive. Which is exactly what he's doing. Standing just behind his mistress, Orin stood at attention and reported:

"M'Lady Edelhart, we've finished settling in for the rest. It's a good place to be, the rats weren't lying. High ground, the whole hall is in plain sight. It's hard to approach unnoticed. The stream flows with water normally by underground standards, so we don't have to worry too much about cleaning it. We've set up magical defenses, signal strings and traps, posts, and patrols too. Our scouts checked the hall with the Skaven, and nothing that could pose a danger to us has been spotted. All entrances leading to us are under surveillance. If anything happens, we'll be able to spot the enemy beforehand and have time to prepare."

Glancing at the head of her elite blades, Violetta Edelhart gave him a short nod and turned back to the mirror:

"I'm glad to hear it. In that case, you may be dismissed, honorable Orin. And you, honorable Nodri, I'll ask you to stay with me for a while."

The head of the golden star nodded briefly to his mistress:

"My lady."

Then he turned and left the tent to rest. He paid no attention to the inappropriate appearance of Mistress Edelhart, who would never have allowed herself to appear in such a state before her subordinate. Nor did he pay any attention to the large, even by green-skinned standards, and almost completely naked, muscular Orc, who was sprawled in a camp chair against the wall of the tent with her powerful legs spread wide. And at the kneeling naked dark elf with short white hair and a lean, athletic body, who was very diligently pleasuring her with his tongue. Three of his kin sat naked against the other wall of the tent with blank faces, staring at nothing in front of them. Their leader, also completely naked, sat beside them. No fetters were visible on her, but the dark elf could not move a single muscle, only breathe and blink. Her ruby eyes stared with genuine fear at the one who sat in another camp chair. And who Orin paid no attention to either. Nor did he pay any attention to the slanted Far Eastern native standing behind his mistress's new assistant, who was massaging his shoulders.

He hadn't been paying attention to a lot of things in the last few days that would have made him at least a little wary before. And not only he. Everyone on the expedition had overlooked a lot of strange things. That they were headed in a different direction than they had originally planned. That Lady Edelhart had gone with them, even though she had nothing to do here as an organizer but never as an executor. That the captured dark elves, which was an event in itself, had been kept from the first day in her tent. And there were many other things that no one paid attention to. And all thanks to Violetta Edelhart's new “assistant”, who was now resting in her tent with his eyes closed, watching his “mistress” spinning in front of his artifact mirror.

As soon as the head of her thugs left, Master sent a short mental command, and Violetta threw off her expensive red silk robe with a flick of her shoulders, leaving her completely naked. Over the past few days, the powerful and influential member of the Normgrave aristocracy and the Adventurer's Guild had undergone a slight change in her appearance. Her breasts have become a little larger, her buttocks have tightened, and her lips have become a little juicier - in short, Violetta's appearance has become more desirable and attractive. Which, however, she did not notice. As well as other changes in her behavior. For example, she sincerely believed that the idea of going on with the expedition, taking with her a considerable part of the family's valuables, her inner circle, and both children, was perfectly logical, reasonable, and completely hers.

Leaning back in the camp chair, Master closed his eyes, enjoying Saya's skillful massage. It had been a challenging couple of weeks, even for him. He'd had to work hard and take some risks, but it had all worked out, and the results were definitely worth it. The proof was that he had finally for the first time since gaining his cherished power managed to rise to a new level! This was very gratifying to his soul. The hardest thing was to get the Normgrave fatcats and the Duke's henchmen to authorize this expedition. The top of the Adventurer's Guild was easier, thanks to Violetta's reputation. By the way, he'll have to think of a new name for her.

And then there was routine. A lot, a lot of routine. There was no need to brainwash all those who went on the expedition. It was enough to make the majority of participants ignore certain oddities and inconsistencies. It was necessary to pay close attention only to the top, which was not an impossible task for him. Routine. Not easy, but routine nonetheless. As a result, none of the nearly two hundred humans and nonhumans who had gone to the Underground paid attention to the fact that they had gone in the wrong direction. And that they had managed to capture five dark elves keeping the exit to the surface under surveillance.

The elves were actually twice as many, plus a couple of observers from one of the dark dwarf clans that lived nearby. He'd figured them all out with Saya, and the latter had neutralized them so that no one had time to realize what had happened or to send a call for help. Next was accelerated processing, he didn't need to be careful here. As a result, the other observers continued to “follow” the ground expedition, reporting to their superiors where it was going and what it was doing. The observers reported the movement of the grounders in different directions, strictly opposite. It was a small thing, but it would buy time.

Because to hope that he'd managed to get away unnoticed would be utterly foolish. If he had more time, resources, a proper lab, and his old puppets, then yes. But there was no point in regretting what he didn't have, and he had to work with what he did have. Opening his eyes, the Master took an assessing look at Nodri Fottlestof, who stood motionless. The halfling woman, dressed in a dark gray marching robe, with many pockets and pouches full of magical accessories, was about waist-high. She was cheeky, like most of her kind, with a lush head of curly blonde hair, clear eyes, and a snub nose. It was much easier to imagine her in peasant dress, digging in the garden rather than in a marching robe with a battle wand.

But appearances can be deceiving, and he knew it, didn't he? Nodri was Violetta's most magically powerful servant, bought as a girl from her peasant parents, paid for her training by the mages of the Adventurer's Guild, and bound by contracts and oaths. Not bad material, but no more. Not even good. Compared to his personal dolls, it was impossible. Besides, her looks were not to his liking. Such short women were not his type. And the extra hair on his legs, too, although it's fixable. But there was no way out, he'd have to work with what he had.

With a mental command to Saya, Master rose to his feet and pointed the halfling to Violetta's worktable, who continued to fidget naked in front of the mirror, turning to look at it from one side to the other. Nodri silently, with a blank expression on her face, made her way to the table, undressing as she went. After a moment, she also silently climbed onto the table and sat on the edge dangling her furry legs slightly. Which, to be fair, weren't all that hairy, especially by halfling standards. She must have used some cosmetic alchemy to reduce it.

As he approached the half-breed, Master looked her over and down. Eh, what does he have to work with? Nothing, it was just a temporary hardship. Reaching out, he touched Nodri's forehead with his finger, sending a short magical pulse. A moment and the barely glowing outline of the work to be done appeared on the halfling's body. Stepping back, Master looked at the motionless Nodri from all sides and thought for a moment. Since you have mastered the element of air and, in particular, lightning, we'll start from that. It means you need to improve your control, reaction speed, and use of magic. It's also good to enhance, but the main thing is not to overdo it. And we should also not forget about defense...

Unnoticeably, his favorite work completely absorbed Master. Meanwhile, Saya left the tent of her master's new toy with an elusive shadow and headed for the border of the camp. Entrusting Master's life to these new puppets was completely unacceptable even under normal circumstances. Which meant she would once again face a sleepless night while Basita amused herself with the captive drows. At the thought of her green-skinned comrade's satisfied face, a disgruntled shadow flashed across her slanted face. Nothing, she'd remind her of that. Even before they'd had to flee to save the lord's life, Basita had been one of her favorite toys. A strong, fierce, only slightly ennobled savage, it was not only pleasing but right to put her on all fours in front of the enlightened daughter of the Eastern people. It was especially pleasant to offer her a contest of strength, where the green-skinned savage was stronger a priori.

And then, without the slightest effort, with a mocking smile defeated the mighty Orc in a game she knew to be a loser. She was angry, pushing, biting her lips with her fangs, but she couldn't move Saya's hand even a hair's breadth. While she had to press Basita's palm to the table with a single movement every time. From which she couldn't lift it. It was just one imperceptible prick in the right place and a very slight impact that made this wild mountain of muscles completely helpless.

However, it was not so easy with the other servants of the lord. A shadow crept across Saya's face as she thought of her dead coworkers. In addition to her anger at the vile elves, she was annoyed that she would never be able to get even with that tailed and smug Sheka! The striped cat, captured by the black-skinned Slavers in the depths of the Great Jungle and resold to the lizards, was as wild as Basita had been at the time of her master's arrival. But she was also much more cunning and sly, and in the art of stealth was a little inferior to Saya herself, which was why she had managed to get close to her undetected on several occasions. Of course, all of this was due to the lord, without whose great gift Sheka would still be a wildcat. But still...

Saya's thoughts were interrupted by a subtle movement at the far entrance to the underground hall where the lord's new puppets were housed. Instantly alert and focused, the Clan of the Unseen assassin stepped silently toward the new threat. Very quickly, she determined that the intruders were a small squad of Dark Elf Hunters. The dark elves were moving under camouflage amulets, but it was obvious that they were exhausted and barely working, causing the illusion to malfunction noticeably for Saya.

The elves, whom the slanted assassin could see with her magic vision even through the illusions that covered them, looked exhausted and tired, and some were wounded. But the Senior, who was the first to go, led them confidently toward the lord's puppet camp. Well. Saya's lips were touched by a faint satisfied smile. Concentrating, she sent a mental call to the lord, for which she did not need amulets, artifacts, or even his past gifts, whose patterns adorned her body.

//"Master, Naidira's squad has arrived."

* * *
Cyril Status at the end of chapter 10:

Name: Cyrill

Level: 15

Class: Wizard

Characteristics: (free) 2; (limited) 0

Talents (free): 1 (limited): 0

Constitution: 1

Sensitivity: 2

Power: 9

Control: 5

Source: 6

Spirit: 1

Resistance: 1

Acquired Knowledge: Oral and Written: Classical Elvish, Free Cities, Northern Theocracy; "advanced fundamentals of managing and controlling internal energies", "advanced skills of working with external energy sources", "advanced skills of creating basic magical barriers", "advanced skills of creating the basics of magical weaving", "advanced fundamentals of magical dueling techniques with combat wands", "advanced fundamentals of tantric energy restoration techniques", "advanced fundamentals of creating and using ritual circles", "basic fundamentals of tactics of conducting a magical battle", "basics of working with developed amulets and artifacts", "advanced methods of magical search", "advanced fundamentals of general weavings of elemental magic"

Acquired properties: “the blessing of harmonious magical development”, "minor strengthening of subtle bodies"

System Modifiers: “Issuance of System Assignments II”, "Intensive Development III"

Follower Modification Points (0)

Special: Chosen of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Power: Hidden Effects. Active ability: "Share the burden of the Chosen One"

* * *

Diantrel Status at the end of chapter 10

Name: Diantrel of the House of Winterblooms, daughter of Edenril.

Character level: 52

Connection level with the Chosen One: 1 (basic/initial).

Type of connection with the Chosen One: Mentor/Student.

Class: Battle Enchantress

Characteristics: (3)

Talents: (#####)

Constitution: 3

Sensitivity: 4

Power: 11

Control: 14

Source: 10

Spirit: 3

Resistance: 4

Existing knowledge: (#####)

Knowledge gained: (#####)

Existing properties: (#####)

Received properties: "Source of Magic";

System Properties: (#####)

System Modifiers: "Share the Burden I", "Mark of the Chosen One I", "Magical Restoration I", "Healing of the Subtle Bodies I"

* * *
Author's Note:

Phew... 120 thousand characters, not counting the statuses of Cyril and his new comrade. Well done Cyrill, Cyrill, like a real isekai, got himself an elf-chan. What joy he has (no)

Also, I think it's not hard to guess who "slightly" adjusted the System's fuses so that Ciryusha "accidentally" edited Diantrel's appearance.

Well, about the lemons. There weren't many of them in this chapter, but I'll try to fix that soon. I'll also try not to drag out the continuation. To all my readers - all the best and a beaver, even if he's a wombat, but let's not upset one Polish guy :)
T.N.

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