Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Эпилог_2

* * *

The residential part of the First Temple of the Sun-Faced in Iyastar was usually not very crowded. After all, it was home to the highest clergy of the Northern Theocracy, including the King-Priest himself. Just anyone was not allowed into this holy of holies. But right now, right outside the chambers of Arnuil the First, there was a real crowd, by the standards of the First Temple. The reason why the personal abode of the Sun-faced One's viceroy on earth was packed with representatives of the high clergy and their closest assistants was sitting in a comfortable, wide armchair with a special backrest. After all, ordinary furniture was not very suitable for the winged Heralds of the Sun-faced One.

However, they hardly ever used it, as staying in the material world was quite expensive for them, and they usually did not have time to sit around. But just in case, the followers of Sunface had a couple of suitable pieces of furniture for the Heralds. And right now, this chair has come in very handy. Because the Herald sitting in it was about to spend some time in the material world. The reason for this was not the will of her father, the sky dweller, nor the needs of his faithful followers, but the wounds she had received in a fierce battle with the spawn of the abyss.

The once snow-white wings of the Herald had lost many feathers; those that remained were partly broken, partly burnt, and quite sooty. Her white and gold robes, which once resembled the garments of the priestesses of the Sun-faced One but were in fact armour imbued with grace, were torn to shreds and in some places completely burned away. The Herald's body had also suffered considerable damage, covered in burns in many places, her flesh literally charred in some areas, and in others her skin cracked like sun-dried earth. The left half of her face looked truly gruesome, as if the celestial being had been pressed against a hot frying pan. Her once long, golden hair was almost completely burned away, replaced by a short, spiky hairstyle, like that of an adventurous warrior.

For a mortal, even a powerful mage, such wounds inflicted by the scorching flames of the earth's depths would most likely be fatal. For the divine Herald, they were also extremely unpleasant and painful, but not life-threatening. At least, not while she had plenty of grace, coming both from her mortal followers and her heavenly father. Right in front of the High Priest of the Northern Theocracy, who had gathered in the King-Priest's chambers, the Herald's terrible wounds slowly but surely healed. The soot disappeared from her wings, new feathers grew, particles of charred flesh fell away as weightless dust, giving way to new flesh, and the terrible cracks in her skin healed. Even her hair, if you looked closely, was growing back.

And until her wounds healed completely, the Herald was forced to remain in the material world. They were too heavy in every sense. The force that inflicted them was too alien to her nature. Like an anchor, it held her in the material world, preventing her from returning to the domain of the Sun-faced One. Of course, if He had wished it, she would have been there immediately. But that would have done more harm than good. Therefore, the Herald was forced to remain in the material world, regaining her strength in the most suitable place for this - within the walls of the First Temple of Iyastar.

However, even in such a situation, there were some bright moments, albeit small ones. A young girl in immaculate white and gold clothes, with long blonde hair and a tear-stained face, sat on the wounded Herald's lap, curled up in an armchair with her legs tucked under her and her whole body pressed against her. Like the celestial being, she literally glowed with sunlight from within, only much more brightly. And this light flowed in rhythmic waves from the girl's body to the wounded Herald, accelerating her healing. Stroking her mortal daughter's back with her less injured left hand, the celestial being calmed her as best she could. After all, when she had just moved with her comrades to the First Temple, she had looked much worse. So it was no surprise that poor Magdalene was horrified, almost hysterical, at the sight of her mother's condition.

She only calmed down when she saw for herself that the Herald's life was not in danger and that her wounds, though serious, were not fatal. But since then, she has been sitting on her lap like a small child. Which, incidentally, was not at all superfluous — the strength and grace emanating from her daughter, which she had in abundance, noticeably accelerated the healing process. However, the reason why almost the entire high clergy of the Theocracy had gathered here was not only to support the wounded Herald. Looking at the mortal followers of her heavenly father with the burning sunlight of her right eye, as her left eye was still healing, she said in a harsh voice:

"He is alive."

The Supreme Hierarchs of the Theocracy, who had been standing in a semicircle around the Herald's chair, quickly exchanged glances. Bowing his head slightly, Arnuil asked briefly:

"That's for sure?"

"Absolutely. Talking to that... creature... wasn't easy. But we managed to understand each other. And in exchange for getting rid of the First Ray, he answered my question. Among those who burned in its flames on the day of the fateful battle, no one could have been Master."

The faces of the senior clergy became even more sombre. The leader of the Bright Paladins barked briefly:

"Escaped through the portal?"

"That's unknown, maybe so, or maybe he disappeared in some other way,“ Herald shook her head cautiously, ”but what is certain is that he did not die in that battle."

"What about Mirantir?" Aurora asked.

Turning to the Reverend Mother, the Herald replied:

"This spawn of the abyss did not know. They were separated during the fall, after my brother thrust the First Ray into this creature. Perhaps he is still alive. Perhaps he disappeared into the sunless abyss."

"We must intensify the search and immediately inform everyone that Master is alive. Let us not waste any time. Your Brightness, with your permission, we will take our leave." The King-Priest summed up in a sombre voice.

After taking their leave, the representatives of the higher clergy left the Herald, who nodded to them in response, to regain her strength. Only her daughter and several Daughters of the Reverend Mother remained with her in Arnuil's chambers, who, after the well-known events, did not leave the Holy Maiden alone. Hugging Magdalene tightly, the Herald sighed mentally. This was the second time in such a short period that she had seen her daughter, and both times the circumstances of their meeting left much to be desired. Where could she find a suitable husband? It was high time, but none of the candidates had proved acceptable. And in her case, it was essential, for a bride was needed for a girl who was no ordinary girl...

* * *

Folding her hands in front of her, Aurora looked intently at the dark elf standing before her, almost at attention, with unusual golden eyes, dressed in perfectly tailored white and gold robes that spoke of her fairly high position in the Theocracy. Tilting her head forward slightly, the Reverend Mother spoke in a calm but firm voice:

"I hope you understand the full extent of the responsibility of this assignment, Sister Fayana?"

Fayana nodded in response without hesitation:

"I fully understand the importance of this task, Reverend Aurora, and I will do everything in my power."

"I'm glad to hear that. In that case, I'm counting on your vast experience and entrusting you with leading and organizing the search in the Underworld. You will be given all possible help and assistance. Get some rest, and start work at the beginning of the morning shift."

"Thank you, Reverend Aurora, for your trust. I swear that I will do everything to justify it."

"I have no doubt about that. Go, and may the Eternal Sun guide you," Aurora nodded, allowing herself a faint smile.

Taking the scroll with the order, certified by her signature and seal, from the table, she handed it to the dark elf.

* * *

Leaving the Reverend Mother's office and heading to her cell, Fayana, who had previously gone by a different name, appeared calm on the outside. But inside, the dark elf was seething with overwhelming emotions. Exclusively positive emotions. There were two reasons for this. The first was that she had been given the long-awaited opportunity to truly prove herself in the service of the Eternal Sun! Oh, and she would not miss this opportunity, no, no, no, she would break herself into pieces, but she would not just do everything possible, she would definitely achieve results!

There is a lot of work ahead, and it will not be easy. She needs to select companions from among those who have experience working in the Underworld to accompany her on her quest. She needs to plan routes and prepare equipment and supplies. But she will manage! She has enough experience, and even though she used to work with much more experienced colleagues, now the lack of knowledge of her assistants will be compensated by the fact that she won't have to constantly sleep with her eyes open, waiting for a stab in the back or poison in her flask. The main thing is to think everything through and organise it properly, but that won't be a problem. She has the highest level of support, and no one in the entire Theocracy knows better than her how to search the Underworld. After all, she didn't become the chief Catcher in her former House for nothing.

The second reason why Fayana made a considerable effort to suppress the smile creeping across her face was that she had taken another step closer to her personal goal. Oh yes, the Reverend Mother's protection was excellent; otherwise, she would not have held her position. But there is no such thing as absolute protection, and she knew that better than anyone. Sooner or later, there will always be a breach in any defence; the main thing is to search long and hard enough. Fayana had neither patience nor perseverance to spare. She quickly realised that it was practically impossible to get directly to the much-desired Reverend Mother. At least, not with the means and methods available to her.

But you don't have to go directly, do you? You can use a detour. In her case, it was a blond and very handsome boy, who was almost the only man who had free access to the closed women's monastery headed by the Reverend Mother. And he was undoubtedly Aurora's lover. Of course, the assistant, who had direct access to the Reverend Mother's body in every sense, was carefully guarded. But still not as well as Aurora herself. And very cautiously, so as not to attract unnecessary attention, Faya began to feel her way towards the handsome boy, whom she would not have disdained to use as her personal slave.

And gradually, a plan began to form in her dark mind on how to use him to achieve her main goal. It would not be easy, but if everything was done correctly and, most importantly, as discreetly as possible, then the lovely Aurora would not even notice how she had fallen into her trap. And she knew how to do it, thanks to the lessons she had learned in her past life. Fayana frankly disliked honeyed methods of work, but that did not mean she did not understand them. And today, just before Aurora summoned her, the dark elf managed to devise a quite effective way to use the Reverend Mother's assistant. Closing the door to her cell behind her and slowly undressing, the dark elf lay down on the bed and closed her eyes, immediately visualising her goal.

Reverend Mother Aurora... This strong, deceptively harmless, but in fact deadly dangerous woman was incredibly attractive. Defeating such an adversary — what better proof could there be that Fayana was worthy of taking her place in the service of the Eternal Sun? The dark elf's imagination began to paint Avora in various images, each more seductive than the last.

On her knees in her underwear under her desk, where Fayana herself is sitting. Bound hand and foot with love knots on a wide bed covered with snow-white sheets. Standing motionless at her desk with a blank expression on her face and her breasts exposed, holding a tray of drinks for Fayana while the dark elf herself works at her desk. And, what was always the most exciting - Aurora with her completely white skin, painted like a street clown, wearing a jester's cap, completely naked, juggling three ladies' saviours, which she caught with all three of her holes at the end.

The last fantasy was so tempting that Fayana sighed heavily and thought wistfully that she definitely lacked a handsome personal slave whose tongue could quickly relieve her arousal. But there was nothing she could do about it; her new path did not allow for such things. Another matter was a loyal assistant, ready to take some of the burden off the shoulders of the new Reverend Mother. Reverend Fayana... She definitely liked how that sounded...

* * *

"Please, honorable."

A young, slant-eyed boy dressed in modest but sturdy dark grey clothing, similar to that worn by sailors serving on the palace ship of the Messenger of the Eastern Empire, opened the door for Shinda-Bah and stood motionless to one side, bowing low. Nodding politely in response, the Caliphate captain entered the small but richly furnished office, decorated in an oriental style. There, sitting at a desk, was a respectable-looking middle-aged man. He was as slanted-eyed and dark-haired as the young sailor who had brought Shinda-Bah, but with a well-groomed beard and moustache that reached down to the middle of his chest.

Unlike the young sailor, the owner of the office was dressed in modest dark blue clothes, but they were made of quite expensive fabric, which the Caliphate captain immediately recognised with his experienced eye. He also noticed the high-quality eavesdropping protection woven into the walls of the office. Behind the man sitting at the table stood a pretty young girl in a modest dress of the same unassuming dark blue colour, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. When Shinda-Bah appeared, she bowed briefly, and the man sitting at the table merely nodded slightly and pointed the captain to a chair in front of his desk.

"Please, honorable Shinda-Bah, take a seat."

The man spoke, unlike the young sailor who had brought Shinda-Bah, in the language of the Caliphate, albeit with a slight accent, but very clearly. When the captain took his seat, he kindly asked:

"I hope you have had a chance to rest, and that my request for a conversation will not be too much of a burden for you?"

"Thank you, honorable..."

"Mao Yang."

"Thank you, venerable Mao Yang. I have fully rested and recovered, for which I express my deepest gratitude to your most honorable lord Kin Yao, Voice of the Emperor of the Rising Sun in the Lands of the Elves, Keeper of One of His Seven Seals, and Guardian of the Amber Palace."

During his rest, Shinda-Bah took the trouble to learn the full and short titles of the Emperor's Messenger. And now he sincerely hoped that the short title would suffice and his interlocutor would not be offended. But Shinda-Bah was not sure that he would be able to list nearly two dozen titles, which sounded rather unusual to a native of the Caliphate, in the correct order and without mistakes.

"It was incredibly noble of him to show such generous care for me and my loved ones, as well as for all the other unfortunate people he took aboard his magnificent palace, which I personally could not even dream of stepping foot on. The skill of your healers, who can heal not only the body but also the mind, is renowned as far as the Sunset Shores."

"It was the least we could do for those unfortunate souls who found themselves in such dire straits, since my master happened to be nearby," the imperial smiled slightly with the corners of his lips. "After all, it's not every day that you're suddenly asked to help in a battle against a truly terrifying monster from the depths of the earth. There is no doubt that this story will be recorded in all the chronicles, for this event is truly remarkable. I have seen many things in my life, but to witness a battle between two celestial beings and an unknown monster. I could not even imagine such a thing. An event that is astonishing in every sense..."

"Indeed," Shinda-Bah nodded, "if I live to see the day when I have grandchildren, I will tell them this story before bedtime, and scold them severely when they express doubt."

"I have no doubt that you will live to see that glorious day. And I am sure that you will be completely understanding of the possible disbelief of young children."

Pausing for a moment, Mao Yang made a brief gesture to his assistant, or perhaps his maid, and she stepped aside to a small table on which stood an exquisite porcelain teapot covered with colourful paintings. It was undoubtedly designed to maintain a constant and, more importantly, correct water temperature.

"Would you like a drink, honourable Shinda-Bah? I have several blends of the finest tea, and Mian is excellent at brewing it."

"Your generosity and concern warm my heart, esteemed Mao Yang, and I gladly accept your offer."

"Which blend do you prefer? Floral? Berry? Fruity? Or do you prefer a pure blend?"

"I will gladly try any of them, because I have no doubt it will be excellent."

"You can be sure of that. In that case, I will take the liberty of choosing a floral one for us."

While this exchange of pleasantries was taking place, the maid (or perhaps Mao Yang's assistant) filled two exquisite cups made of the snow-white porcelain for which the Eastern Empire was so famous and placed them on the table. Bowing as he took his, Shinda-Bah noted the subtle charm of the patterns covering the mug, depicting birds and animals. Maintaining a constant temperature. Or perhaps a poison detector. Or, conversely, a concealer.

"Although I won't lie," Mao Yang said after taking a sip, "I would hardly believe what happened either if I hadn't witnessed it myself. Although I still cannot understand how the honourable Caliphate captain, who went missing during the Black Massacre in White Harbour, suddenly ended up on a galley of lizards on the other side of the Elven Gulf. And in such... unusually motley company."

Who would doubt it? Shinda-Bah was absolutely certain that something like this would happen from the moment that, following the elves who had come to the aid (or was it aid?) of the lizard galley, the dragoness's ship and, in fact, the palace ship of the Voice of the Emperor of the East also rushed to the rescue. And then came what were perhaps the most tense negotiations in Shinda-Bah's life, in which he took no part whatsoever and, even if he had wanted to, could not have done so. The players were not on the same level.

The only thing he could choose was who to bow down to in the end. I mean, for questioning. The lizards or the Imperials? Because he dismissed the elves right away. Shinda-Bah would not have lived to his age and become captain of an entire ship if he were a naive fool who believed in the nobility, honesty, and decency of those around him.

No, he fully admitted that the venerable Ciriall, whom he would remember only fondly for the rest of his life, could well have been a truly honest and decent person, in the sense of a half-elf, due to his obvious youth. But as for his pure-blooded elf guardians being such—definitely not. Especially the dark one, who literally made the Caliphate captain tremble. Not being a fool and not believing in the nobility and decency of the sharp-eared ones, Shinda-Bah understood perfectly well that they clearly did not need a witness who had seen too much. Perhaps, of course, they would not have killed him along with his loved ones, limiting themselves to erasing or completely giving up their memories. Or perhaps they would have.

Because Shinda-Bah had seen a lot over the past few days. And the conclusions he drew from what he saw could be very different, equally interesting, and dangerous. Quite possibly deadly dangerous. True, he had honestly tried to part with the elves on good terms, because his ship was still in White Harbour. He had honestly returned the bag he had borrowed from them, the contents of which, obtained from the vault, were worth many times more than the Smile of Fortune with all its goods after his most successful deal. But then... Then the damned Deep One appeared, and there was no time for the elves and their secrets.

In the first moments, when terrifying and incomprehensible words rang in his head, Shinda-Bah decided that it was all over, that his terrifying lord of the deep would drag him to the bottom, along with all the ships that had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. But thanks to Fate, Luck, or some other higher power, everything turned out fine. As he later learned, the terrifying Ancient Deity had merely cast a quick glance at the pitiful mortals. It didn't even pay much attention to them. But that was more than enough! He somehow managed to run to the portal leading to the deck of the palace ship Shinda-Bah, literally dragging his unconscious wife behind him, while Fekhtan carried his nephew.

And then Shinda-Bah spent several days recovering. The severe trials of the past few days were compounded by the terrible nightmares that tormented him during his first two nights. Honour and praise to the senior healer of the Emperor's Voice and her assistants, who treated him and the other victims on board the floating palace. But you have to pay for everything good in this life. And now it was time for him to repay them for taking him and his loved ones, barely alive, out, washing them, feeding them, letting them sleep, giving them clean clothes, and even helping to almost completely erase from his mind the words spoken by the accursed Deep One.

Settling comfortably into his chair, Shinda-Bah looked intently into Mao Yang's eyes and said:

"I assure you, it will be a very exciting and truly incredible story, honourable Mao Yang. So incredible that I will take the liberty of suggesting that you prepare something to help you verify the truth of my words. Otherwise, I may not be able to resist, and, out of a habit acquired over years of trading, when you once again doubt my words, I may offer to bet you money. And it would be monstrously indecent of me to take even a copper penny from you, after all that you and your honourable master have done for me."

Mao Yang narrowed his slanted eyes slightly, but calmly held the Caliphate captain's gaze. The corners of his lips twitched again in a semblance of a smile, after which he said in a polite voice:

"You have intrigued me even more, venerable Shinda-Bah."

Reaching into his desk drawer, he took out a small polished jade ball resting on a bronze stand in the shape of intertwined snakes. Placing it on the table, he pushed it towards Shinda-Bah. The Caliphate captain examined it for a few seconds, then picked it up. The ball fit perfectly in his palm and was surprisingly smooth and cold. It was clearly some kind of analogue of the small altars of the Keeper of Oaths, only purely magical, without a drop of divine miracles. It allowed one to determine the truthfulness of the words of the person holding it. The method of verification was reliable, but not absolute. Clenching the ball in his fist, Shinda-Bah slowly began his story, starting with that ill-fated day in White Harbour.

Mao Yang listened to him very attentively and, quite possibly, with genuine interest, asking clarifying questions from time to time. It was clear that Shinda-Baha's involuntary companions had piqued his interest. Mao Yang's assistant, sitting next to her boss, was surprisingly quick to write everything down on clean sheets of good-quality imperial paper, which, incidentally, cost a decent amount of money. The thin brush in her hands barely had time to dip into the inkwell while Shinda-Bah was talking. About the incident at the animal market. About the dinner at the restaurant that ended in a terrible massacre. About the equally terrifying escape across the steppe with their new companions. About the encounter with their pursuers and the subsequent battle with the bloodsuckers in the Underworld. About ending up in the Kardarot Vault. About who and what they found there, and how they got out. And about their escape through the Underworld in a dwarf self-propelled chariot.

The story turned out to be long and took more than an hour. Mao Yang stopped Shinda-Bah a couple of times to take short breaks, during which the Caliphate captain was again treated to the wonderful tea for which the Eastern Empire was so famous, and some very tasty sweets. Shinda-Bah enjoyed the refreshments and was generous with his praise for Mao Yang's assistant, who had brewed the tea. At the same time, he had no doubt that some kind of truth serum had been added to either the tea or the sweets. Perhaps more than one. But the main thing was that it wasn't poison. In any case, he wasn't going to hide anything anyway. If they wanted to, and they surely would, the servants of the Emperor's Voice would find out everything anyway. So it was better to tell them everything voluntarily.

In the end, the captain finished his story as the sun began to set, and Mao Yang's assistant had a neat stack of sheets covered with intricate characters from the Eastern Empire. Mao Yang, who, as he said during their conversation, was only a ‘modest assistant’ to the honourable Mr. Qin Yao, looked very pensive. Stroking his neat and well-groomed beard, he said:

"A truly remarkable story, venerable Shinda-Bah. If it were not for the Tear of Truth in your hands, I would be convinced that you are not only a skilled ship's captain, but also a much more skilled storyteller..."

"I assure you, venerable Mao Yang, that if I had heard my story from someone else, without being a living witness to what happened, I would have decided in the same way that I was being told a completely incredible story that simply could not happen."

"Indeed... I thank you, venerable Shinda-Bah, for your time. I dare not burden you with my questions any further."

"Oh, come on, talking to you was a pure joy. And once again, allow me to thank your most honorable master for his care and generosity. And you for the wonderful tea..."

The exchange of pleasantries continued for some time, after which the Caliphate captain left Mao Yang's office and, accompanied by a sailor, went to the cabin assigned to him. As soon as the door closed behind him and the security system locked again, the owner of the office leaned back in his chair, sighed thoughtfully, and stroked his beard. Indeed, he had heard a very interesting story today. Turning his head slightly towards his assistant, he said briefly:

"Mian?"

His assistant immediately responded:

"There are no traces of obvious lies. But there are many embellishments addressed to the honorable Mr. Kin Yao and yours. He is truly grateful, but not nearly as much as he says."

“As expected, especially for a native of the Caliphate,” Mao Yang allowed himself a weak smile.

Running his hand over his well-groomed beard once more, he said:

"We need to think carefully about everything he said and compare it with what the other Caliphates said. Are the records of their interrogations ready?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then let's get started immediately. The lord will be expecting my report in the morning."

The assistant nodded silently, and soon three more stacks of papers were laid out on the table in front of Mao Yang, along with three dimly glowing crystals containing images of the interrogations of the other Caliphate members. It was going to be a long night...

* * *

Having finished offering his evening prayer to the Lady of the Seas, Hotzek slowly rose from his knees, along with several household members who had formed a semicircle in the corner of the dining room. In the corner, on a special stand, stood a large, very beautiful shell. It was filled with seawater, and in the centre of it lay a large milky-white pearl, glowing faintly. It was a very typical altar used by the followers of Calisto for offering prayers. And after the great mercy of the Lady of the Sea saved the coast from a monstrous monster, such small altars appeared in probably every surviving house. And the town itself, by a decision taken at a general meeting of its inhabitants, changed from Free to God's, voting almost unanimously to come under the rule of Calisto. Specifically, under the authority of her High Priestess, the most honourable Shaana, who had gained unquestionable authority and to whom each of the town's inhabitants now bowed down when they met her for saving the town. And they had good reason to!

If it weren't for her, the entire city and its inhabitants who did not manage to jump onto the lizard ship on that fateful day would have been burned to ashes. She managed to call upon the Lady of the Seas, who protected them with her water shield and saved them! And now she continues to protect them, our intercessor! All the fields and gardens around Coastal, which were so abundant, were completely burned to the ground, as were most of the mountain forests! And on top of that, everything was covered in black ash, ankle-deep in some places, knee-deep in others. Of course, the venerable Ngora, priestess of Life-Giver, has already said that next year it will be possible to sow again, and everything will grow even better. But first, they had to survive until then. Until then, they could only feed themselves with the sea and its gifts. And that was a problem now, in the Elven Bay. It was not so easy to go fishing.

At that terrible moment, Hotzek was in the Temple of the Lady of the Sea, where his old parents and a couple of other household members had been carried by Drorg, his old friend. There, with their hands clasped in prayer, they knelt with other unfortunate souls who had found themselves in Coastal before the altar of Calisto, imploring her to save them. And when it seemed that everything was over and the terrible monster raging on the mountain had gone away, when the inhabitants, still not fully believing in their salvation, had just emerged from the temple of the Sea Queen, IT appeared. From the waters of the Elven Bay appeared the huge tentacle of a terrifying monster that ruled the depths of the sea. That tentacle was visible even above the roofs of the houses.

But his voice was even more terrifying. His thrice-cursed voice, which pierced the skull and penetrated the mind, imprinted heavy and incomprehensible words on the consciousness, displacing all extraneous thoughts. Every surviving inhabitant of Coastal heard it. And now they are unlikely to ever forget...

At that moment, the venerable Shana, honour and praise be to her, saved them all for the second time, dispelling the terrible darkness with her prayers, protecting them from the terrible will of the monster of the depths, which did not even appear itself, God forbid, but simply stretched its tentacle towards the surface. And that was enough! To this day, every day at sunset, the venerable Shana, together with all her junior assistants and other priests and priestesses who serve Damokar and Gaia, walk around the entire coastline, reciting prayers and performing good rituals. And every morning, they bless several of the best surviving fishing boats, not just any old way, but according to the full ritual. Because now there is no other way.

The damned Deep One monster, even though it only stretched out its filthy tentacle from the depths of the sea, was enough to bring all kinds of evil into the Elven Bay, which had never been seen here before! Now, some kind of terrible filth lurks in the water, and not just one, from which even a good fishing boat cannot save you. The eldest son Imrod, was dragged right off the boat. His father and younger brother only had time to gasp as he disappeared into the depths, leaving only a bloody cloud behind. And Utsik capsized the boat and devoured him and his brother. Hotzek saw the traces on that boat when it washed ashore. They were both such assholes, but even they didn't deserve such a death.

So, without the mercy of the Sea Lady, it is now impossible to go fishing, as only she can ward off the terrifying creatures. But there isn't enough grace for all the boats, so the fishermen had to choose a couple of the best ones, and now they all go out to the bay together in turn. And now, in almost every catch, there is bound to be some previously unknown toothy creature, which brings nothing but loss! It eats and spoils the good fish in the nets, tears the nets themselves, and you can't even feed it to the cattle! The offspring of the depths are either poisonous or taste worse than any slop, so even pigs won't eat them!

And yesterday, disaster almost struck when such a nasty creature got tangled up in the nets, and it was difficult to deal with it. We even had to use magic, spending the charges of a couple of good magic wands from the city's arsenal, without which, even with Callisto's mercy, it would be impossible to drive the fishermen out to sea. The creature, about three meters long and as thick as a log, could only be penetrated by magic! It looked like a snake, but without scales, and a third of its length was a toothy mouth, where each fang was as big as Dorg's finger!

And it is true that trouble never comes alone! It was not enough that all the fields and gardens were burned along with the harvest! It was not enough that now the bay, where fishing used to be good and peaceful, had become like a battlefield! The main trouble was something else. That thing for which the Deep One is so famous, damn him! No matter how hard the venerable Shana tried, no matter how many prayers she and her assistants recited, no matter how many houses they consecrated, no matter how many amulets they distributed, the dozen residents of Coastal could not be saved. The last one was lost two days ago, right at dawn, when the fishermen and priestesses were walking to the shore to perform good rituals by the boats. They only managed to notice Goschak stepping right into the water, already waist-deep. Someone rushed after him, but it was too late. Another wave rolled in, and the son of old neighbor Hotzek disappeared under the water, and that was the last anyone saw of him. Now only the young widow remained, with small children in her arms, and her elderly parents. Fortunately, Shana, to whom endless honor and praise are due, took care of all those who were orphaned or destitute on that fateful day, and now they work and live at her temple.

Goschak, like the other nine inhabitants of the Coastal before him, was lured by the call of the accursed Deep One. Hotzek's wife, whose gray hair had noticeably increased from the horror she had experienced, could not find a place for herself even after the first two neighbors had been taken away, so much so that she had been sleeping with her children in the temple of the Lady of the Sea for a whole week. And she was not alone: nearly a third of the coastal population, mostly women and children, came there to sleep. They even had to lay out sleeping bags on the floor, but thanks to the venerable Shana, no one was turned away, and everyone who wanted to stay was allowed to spend the night there.

Hotzek himself, along with the rest of the household, including Dorg, had been sleeping in the same room for the last few days. They locked all the doors in the house from the inside with two different locks, in addition to the bolt. And yet they all slept poorly, startled at every little noise. What if one of their loved ones decided to go to the bottom on foot? Gritsak's eldest son had been intercepted at the last moment, right at the gate! Fortunately, one of the younger servants of the Guardian of Oaths, whose servants had not left Coastal, happened to be with the men on guard duty. Without his prayers, they might not have been able to subdue the boy who had succumbed to the call. Even though he was skinny as a rail, the four of them could barely subdue him; he fought back so hard. As they dragged him to the temple of the Sea Queen, he howled so loudly that the whole Coastal heard him. Now he has been lying there in the temple for several days, but the priestesses of Calisto have promised to pray for the poor fellow.

It's okay, it's okay, everything will work out, just give it time. Shana, honor and praise to her, said just this morning that the cursed obsession of the Deep Ones will soon dissipate, and the filth they brought from the abyss will either die out or float back into the depths. And then life in Coastal will be good again! And they will tell their grandchildren about this fateful day as if it were a terrible fairy tale. The main thing is to live to see those times. And what's more, they managed to make a profit even from such a disaster!

The self-propelled chariot was burned by the liquid fire that poured down from the mountain, even though it had driven into the coastal waters! But it did not burn and melt completely! As soon as all the inhabitants of Coastal more or less came to their senses, they naturally went to see if anything valuable remained of it. And what do you think? Yatsik, the daredevil, was not afraid to venture right inside the chariot and pull out such a treasure that the whole of Coastal was stunned! Hotzek couldn't even imagine such huge, precious stones! Not only was it huge, but it was also filled to the brim with magic! Such a treasure could buy their entire settlement!

How such a miracle survived inside the chariot, where everything else burned or broke into pieces, is a mystery! It must have been protected by some kind of magic. Be that as it may, this magical stone was taken to the temple of the Sea Lady and presented to the most honourable Shaana. Oh, how she was stunned at the sight of it, and then almost cried with happiness. She said that with such a treasure, they would now be able to accumulate so much grace that no deep-sea monsters would be able to harm them! She then spent the whole day performing rituals until the stone was properly placed on the main altar of the temple.

It would have been great to put the rest of the chariot to use; there was so much good metal there, but alas, they didn't have time. While they were thinking about how to pull their remains out of the water, the bearded underground creatures appeared! A whole small army, all in armour, and even with a couple of their stone idols. They immediately went to their burnt chariot and started pulling it out of the water with these idols. And when they pulled it out, they climbed inside and saw that the stone was gone! Oh, what an uproar they made! They went in a crowd to the fortress and stirred up the whole of Coastal, which was already standing on the walls. Hotzek thought there would be a battle, but no, Shaana saved everyone again by performing another miracle.

The fact that the venerable Shana was able to talk her way out of it is nothing short of a miracle, even though the priestess of the Sea Lady did not bestow a single drop of grace upon him. Hotshek knows how greedy the bearded men of the foothills are, especially the dark ones. Apparently, they had something to hide themselves. According to his friend, who heard the conversation from the front rows, the bearded men quickly calmed down and stopped shouting about theft and robbery as soon as the honourable Herin, Damkar's servant, joined the conversation. He suggested that they confirm their words at the altar of their lord. No, it seems that in the end they decided that this pebble would be their gratitude for the intercession of the Lady of the Sea. If it weren't for that, their relatives, who, in fact, were brought to Coastal by that accursed monster on its tail, would have been burned along with the ship on which they fled.

But Hotzek would never believe such generosity! Surely they stole that stone themselves, or obtained it by some other dishonest means, because they retreated so quickly. But they still dragged the rest of the chariot away with the help of stone idols, not being too lazy to drag it all the way to the neighboring mountain along the shore, where they had broken through a new passage into the Underworld. Which is also a problem, because the old passage on the mountain near Coastal, is now completely buried! And the mountain itself is now a damn volcano that refuses to stop erupting, damn it. But it was so convenient to trade quietly with those bearded men through it, eh...

Well, the main thing is that he survived, and that his family is alive! Everything else will fall into place! He will tell his great-grandchildren fairy tales about this day! But to live to see those great-grandchildren, he will have to try hard. And so Hotzek diligently memorised all the main rituals and prayers of the Lady of the Seas. And he observes and recites them just as diligently, every morning and every evening. And he did not neglect to go every day for fresh sea water for the home altar, consecrated in the temple of the most venerable Shana. True, only during the day and never alone...

* * *

The dreams were vivid. The dreams were delirious. The dreams followed one after another.

A group of clearly very powerful female sorceresses and some inconspicuous young man with stunned expressions stood on the edge of a small provincial American town, as if straight out of a Stephen King story. A town where the naked eye could see something was clearly wrong. Although, it wasn't even wrong, it was fucking crazy! Together with this group of people he had seen somewhere before, Cyrill looked around and was simply blown away by what he saw.

There was some kind of terrifying monster, nearly two metres tall, wearing a leather apron, with a terrifying sack-like mask over its head, chainsaws in place of hands, sawing away at some kind of living creature on a cutting table. At first, Cyrill thought it was a pig. But then he realised that it was more like a pig-like humanoid monster. The monster, which they hadn't even bothered to completely remove its primitive clothing from, was screaming in agony, but several leather straps held its torso firmly in place. The terrifying creature had already managed to saw off its arms and legs and now, paying no attention to the screams and squeals, continued to cut the pig-like monster into pieces.

Just a couple of steps away from this nightmare stood a pair of very well-fed men in denim trousers with suspenders, thickly stained with blood, whose faces clearly said: REDNEKS. With utterly terrifying smiles on their bearded faces, reminiscent of generations of brutal incest, they were already grilling the chopped-up pieces of the pig-like monster on a fancy, brand-new grill, no doubt stolen from the local shopping centre.

A crowd is standing in the town square in front of an obviously wrong church with an incomprehensible symbol instead of a cross above the entrance and on the spire. Many are armed, some with torches, some with axes and real pitchforks. In front of them, several burly men are tying up a group of prisoners who are putting up a half-hearted fight to posts with piles of wood underneath them. These prisoners aren't humans, but look more like lizard people with dark green scales. The execution was led by a thin, grey-haired man with a fanatical, insane face, dressed in the black robe of a Catholic priest. Instead of a cross on his chest, he wore the same incomprehensible symbol that was now on the spire of the church. It also adorned the cover of the book in his hand. And on top of the staff in his other hand. And for some reason, Cyrill was absolutely certain that this guy was definitely in direct contact with God. Or rather, with the being to whom he and his flock now prayed, and who responded very well to their prayers. But there was no certainty that this being had anything to do with Christianity...

Here, on a completely destroyed railway line running right through one of the city's central streets, a rumbling train rushes by, as if stolen from the set of the new Mad Max film. A tall pipe protruded from the locomotive, which was clearly powered by electricity, belching thick black smoke. All the carriages had protruding spikes welded to them, and some had bloodied corpses hanging from them, both human and humanoid monsters. A machine gun turret protruded from the roof of every other carriage. In addition, the walls of the carriages were covered with eerie graffiti, including the same symbol as that of the religious fanatics in front of the wrong church.

How this train manages not to derail at such speed, running on tracks laid haphazardly across the street and clearly undulating, is a mystery. Just as it is a mystery how dozens of people armed with whatever they could find are able to stay on its roof, looking as if they too have escaped from the set of Mad Max or some other post-apocalyptic film. Waving their weapons and firing them in all directions, they screamed something like ‘WEA GRADE AGAIN!!!’

There was plenty of other horror around, but it wasn't that which finished Cyrill off. It was the fact that one of the women, clearly a shaman with radically black skin, whom he had seen somewhere before, uttered in a stunned voice:

"Wow, Ohio has become so beautiful with the onset of Night... It's unrecognisable... But before, it was a complete mess..."

The faces of her companions, who turned to her at once, were no less stunned than Cyrill’s...

It's just crazy how this weird and creepy American town, straight out of a Stephen King story, disappears. It's replaced by another town, which looks a bit like old European cities. There are no irregularities here as in the past, but the chaos is no less intense. Scarlet skies, screams, and the rumble of explosions in the distance and nearby, but most importantly, the nauseatingly sweet taste of honey mixed with rot that hits your head and sticks to your tongue.

At the edge of the square, Cyrill sees four extremely strange people. A man clad in armour and armed with a two-handed sword. A girl enveloped in flames. A frail old man in rags, with chains hanging from his hands. A male figure in black, with a white mask on his face, on which a gruesome face is painted in blood. Each of them exudes an incredible amount of magical power, albeit of different shades. Except for the old man, who looked like a prisoner of Auschwitz. He did not exude magic, but something else, also incredibly powerful and definitely not good or healthy.

All four are looking somewhere behind Cyrill. The young man does not have time to understand what has caught their attention, because before he turns around, the four slowly walk forward... And stop abruptly when their path is blocked by a very long sword held by a practically naked man with a muscular body. He is wearing only some kind of loincloth covering his private parts and a round metal pot on his head with a smiling face painted on it. In both hands, he holds absurdly long swords, one of which he used to block the path of the four.

Cyrill had no idea where he had come from. He definitely hadn't been there a moment ago. And judging by the way all four of them jumped back, grabbing their weapons, they hadn't noticed the strange man's appearance either. The stranger just muttered from under his helmet: ‘Let me solo him.’

And he walked deceptively slowly in the direction where the four had been heading, playing with their swords. The four watched him go with openly astonished looks. When the stranger passed Cyrill, the stunned young man froze for a moment, and when he wanted to turn around to see what all the fuss was about, something banged behind him. So hard that Cyrill involuntarily crouched down, just in time! Something flew over his head, smashing part of the house on the edge of the square to smithereens. Immediately, bloodcurdling screams began to ring out from behind him, accompanied by loud thuds, as if someone were chopping a large piece of meat with something not very sharp.

The four of them took a step back at the same time, their faces looking genuinely shocked. Even the scary face painted on the white mask of the figure wrapped in darkness changed. And then another step. And another. The first to turn and dash off, no worse than DC's Flash, was the man in armour with a two-handed sword, using some very tricky acceleration. A moment later, the other three followed his example, and the commotion behind Cyrill grew louder...

The city disappears under the red sky, and another city takes its place. One could even say it is a small town. Medieval. Unremarkable, except for the huge obelisk standing in the middle of the town square, which sent shivers down Cyrill's spine and made the hairs on his head stand on end. He did not have time to understand the reason for the sudden surge of fear, as his attention was drawn to the joyful yapping, which was almost immediately replaced by a desperate squeal that suddenly stopped.

Turning to the side, the young man saw a group of armed men and a couple of inhuman creatures surrounding a man dressed in very bright clothes made of obviously expensive fabric. Apparently, the group was heading towards the obelisk in the centre of the square. And in front of them, on the cobblestones, lay the broken body of a beagle, with a pool of blood spreading beneath it. With a haughty expression twisted with disgust, the man in expensive clothes asked loudly, looking around:

"Who dared to set this flea-ridden creature on me?! Answer?!"

The passers-by, who had been plentiful in the square, literally vanished. Only one man remained standing near the armed group, dressed in a rather dusty and worn black business suit, which looked completely out of place against the backdrop of the outdated clothing of those around him. With a stony expression, he stared at the dog's corpse for a second. Then he slowly took a pencil out of his jacket's breast pocket.

"Is this your creature? Do you even know, worthless one, what punishment is due for such an attempt on a noble citizen..."

Cyrill's dream suddenly became distorted, like an image on an old television. When it cleared up again a moment later, the young man saw the same city and the same square. Only now it was littered with the corpses of humans and non-humans in armour, without armour, and some without anything at all. A couple of houses on the outskirts were almost completely destroyed. Several more were engulfed in powerful fires. There were craters in many places on the cobblestones of the square, as if from shells. The only one standing was the same man in a business suit. However, he did not look very well either. His expensive suit, already dusty and worn, was now in tatters. His once white shirt was covered in dirt and soot, with bloodstains clearly visible. The man's lips were broken, and his right cheek had bleeding gashes, as if from animal claws. But he was still standing.

In one hand, the man clutched a smoking pistol. In the other hand, he held the corpse of a beagle under his arm. At his feet lay a man in rich clothing, his face contorted but still haughty. A common pencil protruded from his right eye socket. Sighing heavily, the man limped towards the obelisk. When he was almost there, he suddenly raised his hand with the pistol. A shot rang out, and a moment later, someone fell from the roof of one of the damaged houses. Cyrill could see the roof clearly, and there was definitely no one there.

When he reached the obelisk, the man touched it with his hand, holding the pistol, and simply disappeared. But a moment later, he reappeared. He was now wearing a completely clean suit, as if it had just come from the tailor's. There were no traces of his wounds, and a beagle was happily yapping at his feet. Only now his face wore an expression of deep melancholy and a kind of doom. And Cyrill suddenly saw an inscription appear above the man's head, like an NPC in a computer game: ‘Excommunicado declared on the territory of the BVE.’

The medieval town disappears, along with the blood-soaked square with its mysterious obelisk and enigmatic man in a business suit, replaced by another city plunged into darkness. There is practically no light, and what little there is is dim and flickering. All around is darkness and a feeling of monstrous heaviness. Darkness, at the edge of which there is something flickering, some silhouettes gliding between barely discernible cyclopean structures...

A powerful wave of heat and light washes over the city, which is plunged into oppressive darkness and may never have known sunlight. Opening his eyes, Cyrill stared at the white ceiling above him for a few seconds, then sighed heavily.

"Master? Are you okay?" Gata's worried voice came from somewhere to the side.

Turning his head, Cyrill found the maid looking at him anxiously, standing at the edge of the bed and nervously wagging her fluffy tail. He gathered his thoughts for a few more seconds, then nodded briefly and said:

"Everything is fine. Stupid dreams again. At the end I saw that damn city again..."

"I will inform the honorable Geatral. She will come as soon as she can, the maid said immediately, and a connecting amulet appeared in her hand."

At that moment, some American film Hero would have said something like, ‘Don't worry, it's just a dream, it's nothing, there's nothing to worry about.’ Which would have inevitably caused him problems later on, as it turned out that it was not nothing at all. Fortunately, Cyrill was not a Hero from an American film with a capital H. And he wasn't an idiot either (at least he sincerely believed that, and even had some grounds for it). And so he understood very well the danger that the Call of the Deep could pose. Nodding briefly to Gata, he said:

"Thank you. You can tell her right away that this time her weaving interrupted her sleep almost immediately."

The cat-girl maid nodded in response, connecting with the elf healer, while Cyrill carefully climbed out of bed. The pillow and sheets were again soaked through with sweat, as was his nightshirt. Pulling it over his head and grabbing the robe Gata handed him, the young man made his way to his bathroom. The hot water dispelled the last remnants of sleep and finally brought the young man to his senses. After finishing his bathing routine, he stared at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall for a few seconds. Ugh... Yeah... Went to the fucking restaurant. Did a good deed, bitch...

After Diantrel literally dragged him by the scruff of his neck into the portal, which transported Cyrill straight to the Royal Palace, Cyrill immediately fell into the caring hands of Geatral. That is, she literally met him in the portal room, and the young man was immediately taken to the Healers' Chambers. He spent the next few days doing absolutely nothing. He just lay there, hardly getting out of bed, and allowed the elves, in particular Geatral, to take care of his health. First and foremost, his mental health. Because, unsurprisingly, the most serious problem requiring the most urgent and immediate attention turned out to be the consequences of the appearance of the Lord of the Depths and the words he had spoken.

For the first two days, Cyrill was tormented by nightmares, which woke him up several times a night. They were always the same — oppressive darkness and the presence of something... very evil. It was truly terrifying, and this evil thing was clearly looking for the young man. Fortunately, the experienced elven healer knew her craft well and quickly put an end to these dreams. In the early days, she kept watch by Cyrill's bedside at night. Then, when the nightmares subsided, she set up special healing spells for Cyrill that tracked any negative manifestations during sleep and suppressed them.

During the day, Geatral personally conducted special meditation sessions for Cyrill, during which she sent waves of her energy through his subtle bodies. This, combined with other methods of magical healing and light soothing alchemy, yielded results. On the fourth day, the young man slept almost normally, waking up only a couple of times due to nightmares, and Geatral allowed him to move into the quarters allocated to Cyrill. However, he was forbidden from engaging in any active magical practices until he fully recovered.

Cyrill heeded the healer's advice and, with complete responsibility, continued to do nothing in his chambers, lying around all day on the sofa or in bed. Well, practically doing nothing. He did not forget to do minimal magical gymnastics, performing simple exercises every day, as he had done at the very beginning of his training. He also practised bed gymnastics in the company of Gata; fortunately, Geatral did not forbid it, but only warned her not to get too carried away. Cyrill did not get carried away. Especially. In general, Gata did most of the gymnastics, while he, taking advantage of his ‘sick’ status, simply enjoyed the cat-girl's body. Especially her gorgeous tits, which were so pleasant to bury his face in and think about nothing.

Several days passed in such blatant idleness and debauchery, and with each new day, Cyrill felt better and better. His strength was fully restored, his nightmares had almost ceased to torment him, and today he slept through the night without any problems, except for a dream sent by the Deep One in the early morning. And even that, compared to his first nightmares, could hardly be called a nightmare.

But it's still not worth ignoring. The Call of the Deep is extremely insidious, as the elven healer explained to him very clearly. She even showed him several images of what it could lead to. No, screw it, Cyrill had no intention of cosplaying Davy Jones; he was perfectly happy with his current appearance. Nor did he want to move to the bottom of the sea. No, no, no, it's dark, cold, and damp down there. He much prefers living in the Royal Palace!

In addition to Geatral, the Elder Enchantress visited Cyrill several times with the healer to ensure his treatment was going well and to inquire about the young man's well-being. Diantrel and Armina visited him twice. The mentor felt noticeably better than her student and was already on her feet on the third day after their return - centuries of experience and training were taking their toll. Several times a day, she and Cyrill exchanged mental messages, but mostly she did not disturb him, understanding the student's condition better than anyone thanks to the connection. Armina, like Cyrill, felt fine, was still under the supervision of the elven healer due to the Call of the Depths. But according to Geatral, she would soon fully recover, as would he. Otherwise, no one interfered with the young man's rest and recovery, and did not disturbed him.

But now, almost a week after being discharged from the Healers' Chambers, Cyril decided that enough was enough. Enough of idling away his time and ignoring the unread messages hanging in the back of his mind all this time. They no longer weighed on him as heavily as they had on the ship or the first days after his return, but they still demanded his attention. Therefore, after Geatral, who had come on call, conducted his morning examination and was satisfied with the results, stating that the nightmares would soon disappear completely, Cyril, after a proper breakfast, sat down in a free chair. He wasn't going to distribute anything on his own, for now, he would just see what the System had given him, and then, together with his mentor and, possibly, the Elder Enchantress, he would decide what to pump up. Screwing up his build was not an option. Exhaling mentally, Cyrill uttered the cherished words: "Status."

It started...

Attention!

Level 24 reached!..

Level 25 reached!..

Level 26 reached!..

Level 27 reached!..

Level 28 reached!..

Attention!

‘Masterful skills in creating magical barriers’ upgraded to ‘Advanced masterful skills in creating magical barriers’

Attention!

Developed creation and use of ritual circles has been upgraded to Advanced creation and use of ritual circles.

Attention!

Developed Magic Combat Tactics has been upgraded to Advanced Magic Combat Tactics.

Attention!

‘Advanced magical camouflage techniques’ upgraded to ‘advanced magical camouflage techniques’

Attention!

You've reached level 25 and gained 2 companions! Starting at level 25, companion modification points will be awarded one for each level, instead of one for every two levels!

Attention!

The relationship level with companion Diantrel of the House of Winter Blossoms, daughter of Edenril, has reached level 4 (Outstanding)! Two additional companion modification points have been obtained. One of the companion's existing modifiers will be increased by one level.

Attention!

The companion modifier ‘Physical Healing I’ has been upgraded to ‘Physical Healing II.’

Attention!

The teacher/student type of connection with a colleague allows for the free transfer of one specific piece of knowledge possessed by the companion, up to and including advanced levels. Alternatively, it allows for the free transfer of two random pieces of knowledge possessed by the companion, of any level.

Attention!

The connection level with Armina, daughter of Darat, has reached level 3 (strong)! One additional ally modification point has been obtained.

Attention!

You have reached level 25 and gained 2 allies with connection levels equal to or greater than 3 (strong). The ability ‘Share the Burden of the Chosen One II’ has been upgraded to ‘Share the Burden of the Chosen One III’.

Attention!

You and your comrades have accomplished a deed worthy of the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, the Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Powers!

For many centuries, the Supreme Guardian, even after his death and against his will, continued to serve, condemning to death countless living beings, both those endowed with reason and those deprived of it.

Thanks to you and your comrades, and in spite of the Supreme Guardian himself, his overly protracted service was ended.

Received 1 free attribute point.

The Control characteristic increased by 1.

The Sensitivity characteristic is increased by 1.

Received 2 free talent points.

Knowledge of Developed general weaving of elemental magic has been upgraded to Advanced general weaving of elemental magic.

One random lot from the high price segment of the Auction is given away.

Additional reward:

Developed tantric energy restoration techniques have been upgraded to Advanced tantric energy restoration techniques.

One random lot from the high price segment of the Auction is given away.

Attention!

You and your comrades have accomplished a deed worthy of the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, the Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Powers!

Few people in the long centuries of his life have had the opportunity to see The One Which Was Born in the Eternal Darkness and Hot Flames of the Earth's Depths at the Dawn of Time. Even fewer have survived to tell anyone about that encounter. Not only did you and your comrades survive the encounter with him, but you also managed to avoid his wrath, which was directed specifically at you, and prevent the death of anyone who was with you. Such a feat deserves a worthy reward.

Received 3 free attribute points.

The Constitution characteristic is increased by 1.

The Resistance characteristic increased by 1.

Received 2 free talent points.

Elite property received: "Filtering Aura (Elite)"

"Filtering Aura (Elite)" - your subtle bodies now easily filter out most harmful magical energies, allowing you to restore your magical reserve from sources of even rough and dangerous natural magic without or with minimal harm to yourself.

Received Elite Token: "Life Surge 3/3"

"Life Surge 3/3" - temporarily fills the selected target with powerful life energy, greatly enhancing regeneration, allowing even the restoration of lost limbs and healing of fatal wounds. Also enhances the physical capabilities of the target. The energy charge is limited! Cannot be used on the same target more than once a day.

Attention!

You have reached level 25! You can choose your class specialization, depending on the acquired knowledge and properties!

Wow... Now this is really interesting... No, Cyrill had read the previous messages with great interest, but this one was particularly interesting. Surprisingly, even though his knowledge had increased significantly, he wasn't completely overwhelmed by the information. The new information was simply... understood, as if he had known it for a long time, but he just... Ah, I see, apparently while he was resting, the System ‘loaded’ knowledge into his head, and now it was simply ‘unpacked’. Not bad, I must say...

The same applied to his improved characteristics. Apparently, the System had been gradually increasing them while Cyrill was undergoing treatment and resting. This was also a cause for joy, because it was worth remembering how he had been shaken up after previous increases in his characteristics... No, thank you, he prefers this option. So, what about the proposed specialisations... Hmm...

Cyrill glanced at them and realized it was better not to rush into this choice. And it would be a good idea to consult with his mentor first. Cyrill closed his eyes and asked mentally:

//"Mentor?"

* * *

A dozen targets immediately shattered into tiny pieces and fragments with a crash and a bang, struck by a powerful lightning bolt that jumped between them in a chain reaction. The surviving training dummies, equipped with powerful combat wands and protective amulets, adjusted their fire, but where the female figure had just been hovering, she was no longer there. Quickly shifting to the side, Diantrel struck another group of mannequins, targeting first and foremost the fastest ones that had a chance of hitting her. Lightning bolts rained down from the tip of her silver staff onto her opponents one after another, overloading their defences and destroying them.

At the same time, the elf did not stand still for a second, constantly shifting from side to side in the air in the most chaotic manner possible, causing the attacks of her enemies, who were desperately and quite skillfully trying to shoot down the flying target, to miss. At the same time, Diantrel was tense and focused, but it wasn't even funny. Previously, simple levitation had been quite accessible to her, albeit requiring some effort and concentration. But it was one thing to simply take off into the air and hover, and quite another to fly properly! And not just fly, but fly in combat, which, as the halfling says, is two big differences!

Previously, this would have been impossible for her! She lacked the necessary skills and sufficient strength. Now, however, she was demonstrating techniques that were practically textbook examples of combat levitation, which, although they required considerable effort and concentration, were by no means beyond her capabilities! Very few could boast of such skills, even among the elven mages who focused on mastering the element of air!

And she doesn't just fly around, dodging enemy attacks designed for training at virtually maximum difficulty! She fights, and she fights successfully! After performing a dead loop, dodging another volley of various magical projectiles, Diantrel immediately counterattacked, striking another group of enemies, first knocking out the largest one, who was covering the others with his shields. With a deafening crash, he shattered into small fragments, after which the elf swiftly and completely unexpectedly descended, striking the rest.

The enemy's defenses couldn't hold out, their shields destabilized with a crack, and the real beating began. For another minute, Diantrel hovered over the training ground, finishing off the remaining targets. As soon as she hit the last one, a magically enhanced voice rang out:

"Time! The test is over."

Exhaling, Diantrel extinguished the weave that was about to break free from her wand. Hanging in the air for a moment and surveying the results of her labour, the elf could not suppress a faint smile. It wasn't easy, and she was pretty exhausted, using up more than half of her strength, even though she used the artefact she got from the Tablet, which significantly reduced the amount of magic needed for flying. But still, she didn't use all her strength, which says a lot! Circling above the training ground, Diantrel landed easily and gracefully on the observation deck, where her mentor and her mentor's mentor were watching her. When the white-haired elf landed in front of Mirael and Alinarel, who was sitting in her usual chair with her legs crossed and her arms folded across her chest, the Elder Enchantress nodded and said in a restrained, surprised voice:

"Very impressive."

The Lady of the White Forest Tower, whose amethyst eyes burned with magical fire, nodded in agreement.

"Indeed. If I didn't know who stands before me now, I would think that your student, Mirael, has been studying the Skys and the Wind for centuries, devoting herself entirely to this and only this Lot."

Turning to the Elder Enchantress, Alinarel allowed herself a weak smile and asked:

"I guess there's nothing to discuss here?"

Mirael nodded in response and said:

"Agree."

The Elder Sorceress made a smooth gesture with her hand, and from a small table standing next to the powerful sorceresses, a scroll of enchanted parchment, covered with neat lines of text in classical Elvish, flew into the air and hovered directly in front of Mirael. Below the text, in the centre of the scroll, a complex magical seal flickered. With her personal enchanted quilt, Mirael placed her intricate signature to the left of it, then handed it to Alinarel. Alinarel did not need any writing implements, simply touching the parchment to the right of the seal with her manicured fingernail, and an equally intricate signature of the Lady of the White Tower immediately appeared on it. The Elder Enchantress carefully rolled up the parchment and, with a brief bow, handed Diantrel the official patent confirming her new status as a master of magic. Smiling slightly at her student, she said:

"Congratulations, my dear. I never thought it would happen so soon."

"The white-haired elf nodded respectfully, accepting the patent, and politely replied:"

"Thank you, venerable mentor, but although I am pleased, it would be cowardly and disingenuous of me not to point out that this happened so quickly only thanks to the power of the Tablet..."

"No one denies that," Alinarel nodded, allowing herself another faint smile, "but don't forget, my dear, that the Tablet is only a means to an end. An extremely powerful one, but only a means. It doesn't give anything away for free. And you have earned its gifts."

Yes... She deserved it. Dianterel agreed wholeheartedly with this statement of the Lady of the White Tower of the Forest. Over the long centuries of her service in the Forest Guard, she had risked her eternity more than once or twice, especially when she reached significant heights as a combat sorceress. But always. Always! That risk was always justified and acceptable. All sorts of things happened during combat missions, including situations where a well-planned operation did not go according to plan. But what she had experienced over the past few days... No, nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Never had her eternity been so often and so severely threatened by termination. And this time, the end of eternity promised to be many times worse than ordinary death.

And even though she would never agree to repeat such an... experience... It would be foolish to lie to herself — the rewards she received from the Tablet of Souls warmed her very soul. The battle in the Cardaroth Vault and the subsequent escape through the Underworld from the Horror of Diarten were fully appreciated by the Tablet. As soon as Diantrel thought about it, lines invisible to others reappeared before her mind's eye...

Attention!

You and the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Powers, have accomplished an act worthy of HER name!

For many centuries, the last Supreme Guardian, even after his death and against his will, continued to serve and fulfill his duty, condemning to death countless living beings for this, both those endowed with reason and those deprived of it.

Thanks to you and the Chosen One, and in spite of the Supreme Guardian himself, his overly protracted service was ended.

Received 2 free attribute points.

Received 2 free talent points.

Knowledge received: "Advanced Basics of Combat Magic Flight"

Attention!

You and the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Powers, have accomplished an act worthy of HER name!

Few people in the long centuries of his life have had the chance to see the One Who Was Born in the Eternal Darkness and Hot Flames of the Earth's Depths at the Dawn of Time. Even fewer have survived to tell anyone about that encounter. Not only did you and the Chosen One survive the encounter with him, but you also managed to avoid his wrath, which was directed specifically at you, and prevent the death of anyone who was with you. Such a feat deserves a worthy reward.

Received 2 free attribute points.

Received 3 free talent points.

Elite trait received : “Born to Fly (Elite)”

“Born to Fly (Elite)” - It is significantly easier for you to navigate in the air. You always know exactly where the sky is and where the ground is. It is easier for you to control your body position during flight. You require much less magical energy to fly. Spells based on the air element are much easier for you and require much less effort. Spells based on the earth element are much more difficult for you and require more effort.

The rewards were, without false modesty, quite generous, equal to at least decades of training. Of course, she approached their mastery with all possible responsibility. On the third day after her return, Geatral was convinced that Diantrel's physical and subtle bodies were in perfect order, and that the consequences of her encounter with the Deep One had been completely eliminated. Compared to the other poor souls, she had suffered practically no harm; she had not been tormented by terrible nightmares or indistinct whispers in the murmur of water. Immediately after being discharged from the Healers' Chambers, Diantrel went to report. She reported directly to Third, the Elder Enchantress, and the Queen.

The report turned out to be very long, as Diantrel gave a detailed account of the events in White Harbor and the smallest details of what happened afterwards. Everyone was particularly interested in one moment that the white-haired elf herself remembered, but which had been overshadowed by the turmoil of subsequent events. How did Kirial even guess about the impending threat? Diantrel did not have an answer to this question, but she intended to find out at the earliest opportunity. If the Guest had clairvoyant abilities, it was important to know for sure.

There were other points that attracted close attention, so Diantrel's report ended up taking almost the entire day. She was released late at night. The next day, Diantrel's mentor summoned her, and they spent a lot of time together thinking about which aspect of her magical gift she should strengthen.

Four free attribute points are a lot! And at the same time, it's disappointingly little. After all, there were three attributes related to magical gifts. And none of them could be ignored. Yes, it was very tempting to invest all four points in Control, bringing it up to twenty. For that, the Tablet would surely have granted another property! But it would not have been superfluous to boost Source and Power, especially the former. For, as the battle in the Vault had shown, in combination with “Magic Boost,” a large supply of this very magic became incredibly effective. After lengthy discussions with the Elder Enchantress, Diantrel finally came to the conclusion that rather than elevating any one trait of her magical gift, it was better to develop them more harmoniously. In the end, she brought Power and Source to equal values with Control, and now, opposite each of them in the invisible lines of the Tablets stood the numbers 16.

Of course, she did not use the magical abilities of the Tablets all at once, but one per day, ultimately strengthening herself more in four days than she had in the past half-century. Naturally, this took place under the supervision of her mentor and Geatral, who carefully monitored the changes in Diantrel's subtle bodies, diligently recording them. And she was willing to bet anything that both of them quietly envied her at those moments.

After she had distributed the gifts that enhanced her magical abilities, it was time for other gifts. And while the first was relatively simple, acquiring new knowledge, properties, or special gifts from the Tablets was much more difficult. For the Tablets offered so much, but so little could be acquired... Of course, it was no longer just Diantrel's mentor who was taking part in the discussion. Along with Mirael, the Head of the Secret Guard, the Queen, and the Supreme Treasurer were also present at the discussion, which took place in one of the rooms in the Secret Guard Corps. And the discussion again took almost the whole day.

One of the six talent points, by mutual agreement, Diantrel spent on strengthening her already acquired access to the Tablets' goods, bringing it to the maximum fifth level at the moment. After that, the same agonizing choices she had experienced were fully experienced by the other participants in the discussion. Especially the Supreme Treasurer. For what could be acquired at the fourth level was dazzling. And at the fifth level, the Tablet allowed for the acquisition of even rarer materials, ready-made artifacts, or...

When she saw one of the items in the “special” section that appeared on the fifth level, which was updated every week, Diantrel simply couldn't believe her eyes. All that was being sold there was a “Sapling of the Tree of Life.” In a very ordinary clay pot. Still very small, less than an elbow high. But according to the Tablet, and there was no reason not to believe it, it was a real sapling of the Tree of Life. Actually, when Diantrel told the meeting about this item, there was only one question left: how much?! HOW MUCH DOES IT COST?!

Upon hearing that this purchase would literally require all of Diantrel's available funds, and she now had quite a lot of them, Skrizhal generously praised her actions and achievements, and everyone at the meeting almost simultaneously exclaimed: “Buy it!” Even the Supreme Treasurer did not argue, although by that point, he already had more than one sheet of parchment in front of him with lists of potential purchases.

Said and done. As soon as Diantrel confirmed the mental command, a small pot appeared right in front of her on the wide conference table. With a sapling of the Tree of Life, it was impossible to confuse it with any other plant. Even this tiny sapling literally exuded life energy. Even a simple decoction of its few leaves would be enough to bring someone back from the brink of death. If, of course, someone had allowed the leaves to be plucked from it. The faces of all her relatives at that moment were simply indescribable. For a few moments, everyone just stared silently at the priceless treasure that had appeared literally out of nowhere.

And then very satisfied smiles appeared on their faces. Growing a new Tree of Life was very difficult, despite all the skill of the Forest specialists. These trees bore fruit too rarely. It was too difficult for their seeds to germinate. The birth of each new Tree of Life was a real celebration for the Forest, especially after a whole dozen had been destroyed by the island barbarians...

And then, completely out of the blue, the Forest found not just a sprouted seed, but a full-fledged seedling. Which his mentor Diantrel immediately covered with protective barriers, not three, but ten layers thick. After that, one of the students of the Supreme Druid, who was one of the two elven archmages, was urgently summoned to the Secret Guard Corps. When she saw the seedling, she was even more stunned than everyone else. It took some time to explain to her where this miracle came from, of course, after making her swear to secrecy. After that, with all possible respect and accompanied by several Secret Guard agents, the seedling was carried away to be handed over personally to the Supreme Druid, so that he could determine the best place for it to be planted.

All those remaining in the office where the discussions took place were interested in only one question after that. How long would it take Diantrel to save enough for another seedling like that? She answered them honestly: a very long time. And that it was a “special” lot, which is updated every week, and whose price is several times lower than comparable goods. Yes, there are still saplings of the Tree of Life for sale. And there are seeds. But they cost not just several times, but orders of magnitude more than the one she had just purchased.

So, planting a dozen young Trees of Life throughout the entire Forest would not be feasible. This is because the amount of money she receives daily to purchase goods from the Tablets is not very large. In fact, it is very small, considering the prices in the high-end segment of goods. And the seeds and seedlings of the Trees of Life belonged to the top segment.

Yes, this amount can be increased by purchasing special gifts from the Tablets, which increases the inflow of these funds. But in order for this increase to be significant, at least four of the remaining five talent points will have to be spent on it. Yes, there are other ways. Running a race with the Horror of Diarten and staying alive earned her a very generous amount of funds from the Tablets. Yes, she also thinks this is too radical a method and categorically disapproves of it.

After some heated discussions, despite the fact that the Supreme Treasurer, at least, would very much like Diantrel to maximize the inflow of funds for purchasing the Tablet's goods, it was decided, based on previous experience, to take a different approach. And Diantrel spent four of her five remaining talent points on acquiring the same gift that her student had. Only not the third, but the fourth level. Specifically, “Assignment of Tablets IV.”

Because the quests also provided funds for purchases. And extremely useful artifacts. Everyone was amazed by the “Horn of the Storm,” which Diantrel handed over immediately upon her return, describing its properties in detail. Especially when they learned how little time it took to restore its power. Getting another weapon like that would be very useful for Les. Confirming her decision, Diantrel secretly expected the Tablet to immediately give her a task similar to the one given to her student. But nothing happened. The Tablet herself helped to clarify the situation. Due to her high power and fourth-level acquired gift, Diantrel would receive tasks no more than once a month. But each of them promised to be serious, and the rewards for them would be commensurate.

The only remaining talent of Diantrel, with the full approval of her mentor and others involved, was invested in improving her knowledge of “developed basics of combat magical flight,” bringing it to the level of “advanced basics of combat magical flight.” The new knowledge came to her surprisingly easily, apparently due to her solid foundation from what she already knew, and Diantrel did not even drop out of further discussions. But still, sitting through the rest of the meeting turned out to be an unexpected torture for her. Because she wanted to try out this new knowledge so badly. From her earliest years, when she first began to comprehend the lot of a sorceress, she had dreamed of learning to soar freely in the heavens, like dragons. Fortunately, the air element came to her quite easily. But Diantrel quickly realized that mastering full-fledged flight would require many centuries of diligent study and serious expenditure of funds for rituals of empowerment and training. In essence, she would have to spend all her allowances on this personal practice, to the detriment of other branches of her gift's development. No, soaring above the ground, hovering in the air, or gently rising from the first floor to the second — all of this was more than possible. But true flight was a completely different matter.

Therefore, her dreams of flying remained just that—dreams that it made sense to seriously revisit... well, let's say after the first thousand years, when she would definitely be a more than skilled and mature sorceress. And then, completely out of the blue, her long-held dreams essentially came true. She now had not only all the necessary knowledge, but also the power! So when all the conversations were over, Diantrel politely took her leave and with great difficulty refrained from running out of the Royal Palace. Once outside, in one of the inner courtyards, she stood motionless for a few seconds, looking at the already reddened sky. And then she simply flew into the air, soaring above the roofs of the Royal Palace, above the Forest, higher and higher, up into the sky itself. Well, not quite into it, because as soon as she rose high enough, the cold air made itself felt. And she had to either protect herself with protective barriers or descend.

Diantrel chose the latter. She simply flew, performing simple aerobatic maneuvers over the Royal Palace until she had used up almost all her magical energy. She landed quite tired but absolutely happy. And immediately received a good-natured but still reprimand from Mirael, who had been watching her pirouettes in the sky. After listening to a short lecture on the rules of flying over the Royal Palace, Diantrel, who was quite embarrassed (because she actually knew the rules), unexpectedly received an order to get used to flying in the coming days. Since she has her certification in a week.

When she asked in amazement what it was, she received a concise answer from her mentor: for the title of Master of Magic, of course. Thanks to her years of experience, Diantrel recovered from her surprise very quickly. She then thanked her mentor. Immediately, taking advantage of her certain privileges, she booked several hours of training at one of the training grounds every day for the coming week. With the approval and assistance of the Third, she also made arrangements with one of the best air magic specialists in the Forest, who was knowledgeable not only in simple levitation but also in full-fledged flight. While Cyrial was recovering from everything that had happened, relaxing in the company of his cat-girl servant, Diantrel practiced flying.

Thanks to her increased strength, new gifts from the Tablets, the competent advice and guidance of her flight instructor, and her perseverance, in just one week, she advanced from “advanced basics of combat magical flight” to “combat magical flight,” and then to “developed combat magical flight.” On the last day of training, pushing herself to the limit, she finally achieved “advanced combat magic flight,” managing to perform a whole series of fairly complex combat maneuvers in a row without a single mistake.

And today, this knowledge came in very handy, as Mirael examined her with the utmost rigor and with the full support of Alinarel, who even left her White Tower for this purpose. The same was true of the artifact given to her by the Tablet, which significantly reduced her energy expenditure during flights by reducing her weight. At the thought of the silver pendant hidden under her clothes, in the form of a pair of wings resembling a heart, her mood was spoiled by the successful passing of the exam and obtaining a magister's patent, which Diantrel had not dreamed of in the next hundred years.

The reason was partly due to the gifts from Skriyal, received for completing the task set by Kirial and subsequently escaping from the assassins of the Dark Brotherhood, so that they would rot alive. These gifts, including ++“Lightness of Soaring, had properties that were visible to her student, as well as hidden ones that only she knew about. And they were extremely... worrying.

The same pendant, in addition to reducing weight and simplifying flight, could also affect the minds of those who looked at it, making them... more frivolous, even to the point of complete recklessness. And it did so so well and so imperceptibly, if one is to believe the lines of the Tablet, and there is no reason not to believe them, that one could not help but think that this was its main purpose. However, its effect on the minds of those who looked at it was concerned exclusively and only sex. And at that moment, it had to hang only on the chest, and the clothing had to have a neckline, the larger the better. It was absolutely impossible to use it to find out any secrets or mysteries.

In this regard, even a fully processed target will retain complete sanity. But if you offer her to have some sex behind the nearest corner, she will agree without any second thoughts. However, this only applies to a specific target. The effect did not extend to her possible surroundings at all.

And it would have been fine if only the pendant had such a... hidden bonus. But no! The two other gifts, called the Tablet Tokens, which Diantrel received, also had hidden properties that only she could see and understand. And in one case, only when it concerned others.

“Purification 10/10” truly cleanses the body of the chosen target of any foreign substances, whether deadly poison or healing alchemy. But how? In the case of men, it took the form of copious ejaculation. In the case of women, it took the form of an equally copious discharge of love nectar. Moreover, without any direct indication from Diantrel as to how exactly the purification took place, the target paid no attention to it, nor did those around them.

And that's not all! After using the token, the “purified” target became extremely susceptible to absolutely any kind of love potion, temporarily losing all personal resistance to it. Even the most respectable Alinarel, if she used this gift of the Tablets on herself and then somehow treated her to the most lousy love potion that peasant women brew, would be guaranteed to lose her head to passion and lust.

Let it be so, the opportunity to get rid of literally any poison, even if in such an unusual way, outweighed the negative consequences, if one thinks sensibly. But with the second token... At that moment, when she received it, Diantrel had to make a considerable effort to keep a straight face. For “Gift of Random Property 3/5 (Elite)” did indeed grant a random and necessarily elite property from among those offered by the Tablet. She and Kiriall had already seen this for themselves. But the token did not only grant a property. It also granted, to quote the Tablet:

//"... enhances one of the existing sexual preferences, or adds a new one..."

Moreover, these changes were not perceived as changes at all, becoming, in essence, an integral part of the goal. Not a suggestion, but a natural part! As if it had always been that way. And it would be fine if it only concerned the goal! Those around her, even if they knew very well about her gifted goal, would not have paid any attention to the changes that had taken place. Only the one who used the token, that is, Diantrel herself, would not point this out. But even this turned out to be not as simple as she had expected...

By using the token on Cyrial before storming the vault, she honestly hoped that if he endowed him with some... overly indecent preferences, then after returning, the Forest's specialists in Mind Magic would be able to correct them. Perhaps it would not even be necessary to inform her student. But in order to correct something, one must know what to correct! And the Token, as if in mockery, did not reveal this!

//"The existing suggestions have been reinforced and strengthened"

That's all that the lines of the Tablets told Diantrel. And how, pray tell, was that supposed to be understood?! What other suggestions?! Cirial was under constant surveillance the entire time! The only possibility is that he was influenced by someone while they were in White Harbor, or afterward. But who and when?! She was there the entire time, watching him, and so was First... And no one among those they met could have influenced Cirial, even in theory. Not so quickly and not through all his defenses... He couldn't have... No, he definitely couldn't have! The only one who could have done it, in theory, was the old shaman, but Diantrel watched him closely, as did First.

Things were even worse for her. In the sense that she was the target! And the target is unaware of the changes caused by the Token! Upon her return, Diantrel spent a considerable amount of time listening to herself and honestly trying to detect any changes in her preferences regarding entertainment in bed or in her choice of bedmates. And, as expected, she found nothing. This caused Diantrel to feel a strong and dull irritation. And there was no one to turn to for help! For even the best masters of Mind Magic, if they took up the task, would not be able to find anything! Only the one who used the token could point out the changes in her preferences to the target. But she was the target... Ugh...

The only thing that comforted her, and not in the slightest, was the newly acquired trait “Stormborn.” Such an enhancement was probably worth... well, practically any change. At least, Diantrel sincerely hoped that she had not fallen in love with something that would have previously caused her only disgust. Hmm...

But there could be problems with this gift from the Tablets. Because even now, the venerable Mirael has taken a keen interest in it. And she's not the only one. Many have appreciated Diantrel's strengthening. And now, in fact, the top brass of the Forest were not discussing whether or not to use this gift from the Tablets. They were discussing who would get it...

Diantrel's thoughts were interrupted by a mental call from her student.

//"I'm listening..."

* * *

"Interesting... especially the last option," said Cyrill's mentor thoughtfully, sitting across the table from him.

"I agree, although the penultimate option... is also quite intriguing," the Elder Enchantress supported her in an equally thoughtful voice.

Both elven sorceresses sat at the table opposite the young man in the chambers assigned to him. The reason for their thoughtfulness lay in the specializations Cyrill had mentioned, which the System had offered him. In particular, in the last two options.

The first option offered to him was ‘Ritualist.’ As the name suggests, this specialisation focuses on working with various, including very complex, ritual schemes. If he chose it, Cyrill would immediately be promoted one or even two levels to ‘masterful creation and application of ritual circles.’ This specialisation also greatly expanded the templates and circle designs he was familiar with. And, the cherry on top, the System promised to give him one token to create a personal ritual circle, which he could customise to his taste and preference. It was simply the ideal option if Cyrill decided to go down the path of a hikki, tying himself firmly to a specific place. There is no doubt that the elves would willingly give him a separate dwelling, or even build him an entire tower. And he could sit there, gradually complicating and supplementing the ritual circle-base designed for himself, around which, in fact, everything else would be built.

Many powerful magicians, as Cyrill already knew from Diantrel's lectures, practised similar techniques even without this specialisation, firmly anchoring themselves to the strongest source of magic. It was often impossible to drag them away from it, and if you tried, you could get a good beating. It was a really good specialisation for someone who liked to sit in one place their whole life. Well, or almost their whole life. Cyrill was not like that, so he immediately rejected this option.

The second option was “Elemental Mage,” which was divided into four sub-specializations, one of which had to be chosen. The classic fire, water, air, and earth. Choosing any of them automatically ruled out the opposite element and greatly complicated working with related ones. But it greatly strengthened the chosen element, immediately granting master-level knowledge of the chosen element's weaves and one to three suitable properties, with a high probability that one would be elite. Which was also very cool, but... hand on heart, it didn't really appeal to Cyril either.

No, the ability to fry with napalm no worse than a dragon would never be superfluous. But damn, how I didn't want to completely close off any avenues of development. And that was inevitable, as Diantrel immediately told Cyrill when they discussed this specialization. The mentor, who had received the strongest inclination toward air, said that now even simply descending into the Underworld was not easy. You immediately begin to experience literal physical discomfort, just as you do near any sources of magical energy that have an earthy tone.

The third option was “Combat Mage.” This involved improving knowledge related to dueling with magic wands, using protective and combat amulets, as well as tactics for conducting magical combat at close and medium ranges, both alone and as part of a squad. The bonus was the opportunity to purchase a set of high-end equipment of your choice at the Auction for literally pennies. Cyril didn't like this specialization at all, so he didn't even bother to look into it and rejected it almost immediately. No, thank you, being on the front lines is not for him after all.

Finding himself in a textbook superhero adventure, Cyrill was confident that if he had to choose between “Combat Mage” and “Ritualist,” he would definitely choose the latter. That way, if he had to participate in combat, it would be from a distance, from a safe position. It's one thing to shoot at mannequins at a shooting range, even if they are very high quality. It's another thing to fight off or, conversely, attack real opponents. No, no, no, close combat is for warriors; mages don't approve of it, he knows that for sure.

The fourth option was “Elder Wizard.” And this was, in fact, a universal option. In the sense that it only raised “developed master weaving of a broad profile” to “advanced master weaving of a broad profile,” but no more. It did not single out any one branch of magic, but it did not close any either. The bonus was the opportunity to purchase a high-end staff that was ideal for Cyril at the Auction, again for pennies.

Frankly speaking, this specialization is rather weak compared to the previous ones. The only potentially interesting feature is the opportunity to acquire a truly awesome staff. Cyril looked at the options and evaluated them thoroughly. If he didn't have the support of the elves, he might have considered this option. But he did have that support, and he already has a staff, an excellent one at that, which was also made specifically for him. Therefore, he passed on this option.

But the fifth option was very appealing. “Magician of the Edges” focused on a wide variety of barriers. Choosing this specialization increases knowledge of “advanced mastery of creating magical barriers” to advanced, plus one random but necessarily compatible with this School of Magic property, and no less than two minor specialized knowledge areas, one of which would be elite. Moreover, this specialization had unexpectedly broad and deep potential.

As Cyrill has already discovered, barriers are not just mundane walls and domes that protect you from fast-moving objects or hostile attacks. The same ability to create a bridge twice saved his life and that of his companions. But why not wings instead of a bridge? Not like those of birds, but something like a wingsuit, only much better? Why not? Or surround yourself with natural armor made of magical armor? Or the thinnest but strongest barrier that will cover you like a second skin?

And in battle, the “Magician of Edges” was never useless. In terms of attack, not defense. The thinnest but extremely durable barrier can work no worse than any other enchanted blade. This specialization offered many options, and Cyril seriously considered it, as did his mentor, the Elder Enchantress. It even stood out from the previous ones. If the first four felt to Cyril like... conditionally ordinary, then this one was more like a rare one. Or outstanding. The System did not provide specific definitions, only general impressions.

And if it weren't for the sixth option, Cyrill would have chosen “Magician of Edges” without hesitation. If only. Because the sixth and final specialization option offered to him was “Emerald Wizard.” This option, with a rather strange name, focused on Cyril's most developed and advanced School of Magic, which was highlighted separately by the System. Illusions. Accepting this specialization also increased the young man's root knowledge by one level, gave him either two random profile properties or one elite property, and also either two small profile knowledge points or one elite one. Plus, choosing this specialization made it easier to work with illusions of all types and added a new set of ready-made templates to Cyril's arsenal.

So the Emerald Wizard seemed like an extremely tempting option. And it felt even more... high-quality than the Mage of Facets, surpassing it just as it had surpassed the first four. In fact, the choice was between these two options. The main thing that appealed to Cyrill in the ‘Magician of Facets’ was that he was strong in direct combat. Illusions can also be very different, and a sufficiently dense illusion is quite a weapon. But it is still much easier to split an enemy in half with a thin but extremely strong barrier than to create a sufficiently dense illusion. And the trick of creating a bridge out of barriers, which saved his life twice, seemed to hint that specialising in these very barriers could save his life in the future.

On the other hand, an even more powerful School of Illusions could ensure that Cyrill would not have to risk his life at all, even if he got into trouble. This, in fact, was one of the main features of the school. A good Illusionist should not participate in a fight at all. Ideally, he should not even be anywhere near one. And in general, a good Illusionist should never have to resort to fighting. Either the fight should take place on his terms — deceiving enemies into fighting each other is a classic technique of this school.

So the choice was not easy, and discussing it with her mentor and the Elder Enchantress took more than an hour. In the end, Diantrel told her student directly that both options were good, so Cyrill should choose whichever he liked better. Because their sudden adventure had clearly shown that both specialisations could be extremely useful, and no one could say which one was better.

Well, actually, Cyrill knew very well which of the two specialisations was, if not better, then at least of higher quality. The system almost hinted at this directly. So, after taking a couple of deep breaths, he chose ‘Emerald Wizard.’ Mental command. Confirmation. And... Cyrill was overwhelmed. The world swam before his eyes in a whirl, and a new flood of knowledge rushed into his consciousness, burying him beneath it...

* * *

A young blonde girl in a white and blue dress. A man clad in chain mail, leaning on a two-handed axe... No! Not chain mail! His entire body was made of metal! Dressed in a worn blue suit... a strange creature wearing a pointed hat... And a huge lion with a luxurious mane... This strange quartet stood before a light green stone platform, on which stood a throne that looked as if it had been carved from a single emerald crystal, where sat...

The sound of breaking glass, and the reality before Cyrill's eyes shatters into a thousand pieces, radically transforming. A young and very beautiful blonde girl in a beautiful light blue dress reminiscent of the fashions of the late nineteenth century. Dressed in the classic attire of a barbarian savage, quite attractive despite her somewhat brutal appearance and the scars on her body, a black-skinned cat-woman. Tall and strongly built, with muscles like a professional athlete, dark yellow eyes, rounded lion ears, and a long tail with a dark tuft at the end. A woman clad in shining, surprisingly elegant plate armour, with short blond hair, leaning with both hands on a hefty two-handed axe. Dressed in a rather worn and tattered light blue robe, a chubby and well-fed, but also quite attractive, middle-aged woman with tousled straw-coloured hair and a pointed hat on her head. They all stood in front of a light green stone platform, on which stood a throne that looked as if it had been carved from a single emerald crystal, where sat... sat...

The sound of breaking glass, and the reality before Cyrill's eyes shatters into a thousand pieces, radically transforming. On all fours, vomiting profusely, stands a young and very beautiful woman with tousled blonde hair that had recently been styled into an intricate hairdo. She is wearing only white stockings with garters and a blue corset, leaving her large breasts completely exposed. Broken glasses with emerald lenses lie on the floor in front of her.

Next to her, sitting on the floor with her right hand clutching her head, is a black-skinned beauty with rounded lion ears and a tail with a tassel, her face contorted and her mouth wide open, revealing suspiciously long fangs. But otherwise, she has a very pretty face, even if her appearance was quite exotic for Kirill. And a gorgeous, well-trained athlete's body, wearing only a necklace of claws and fangs and some kind of furry parody of a skirt made of animal skin that hid nothing at all. So one could fully appreciate her impressive black breasts of a respectable size and her firm, toned buttocks. In her left hand, the black-skinned cat-woman clutched her cracked glasses, their emerald lenses digging into her hand, but she didn't even notice.

A little to the side, leaning on a two-handed axe, kneeling and breathing heavily, is a tall woman with short blond hair and a body no less trained than that of the cat-woman. Her well-defined muscles and breasts, just as gorgeous as those of the other two women, were clearly visible. Because the woman was not wearing any clothes, except for a standard armour bra and armour thong. In front of her on the floor is a large dent, as if from a blow with something sharp and very heavy, and around it lie small emerald-coloured fragments.

Standing furthest away from the first woman, leaning her hand against the wall, is a rather plump but nonetheless attractive lady with a chubby, sweet face. She is a kind of Rubenesque woman. Her breasts were three times the size of the previous three, like a bull compared to a sheep. They were natural melons, which somehow looked quite natural and exciting. Like the others, she was practically naked. What she had on was reminiscent of an extremely vulgar and erotic version of a witch's costume, only light blue instead of black. With one hand she held onto the wall, with the other she tried to cover her huge breasts, and at the same time she trampled with the heel of her high boot on the already cracked emerald-lensed glasses.

And in front of this quartet, on a platform made of light green stone, stands a throne that looks as if it were carved from a single crystal of emerald, drenched in blood, on which lies the body of a well-fed man in emerald clothes. Next to him stands a young beast boy in dark clothes, like a ninja, breathing heavily, with dog ears and a shaggy tail. He would be quite handsome if his face were not contorted with wild rage. In his hands is a bloodstained dagger.

From somewhere, the sound of heavy footsteps begins to echo, and a moment later, huge wooden golems, over two meters tall and armed with maces, appear. A couple of particularly large golems had sawswords in their hands. Along with them appeared a tall, gloomy, dark-haired man with a unibrow, next to whom a huge bear was stomping. Looking around, he burst out with a string of choice expletives, his face contorted with anger and disgust...

* * *

"Cirial? Can you hear me?"

After blinking several times, the young man realised he was lying on the sofa in his chambers, staring at the ceiling. Next to him sat his mentor and the Elder Enchantress. Gata stood modestly to one side. Nodding slowly, Kirill said:

"Yes, now I hear... Wow... A lot of knowledge poured into my head... How long was I out?"

"A little over an hour."

"Really?.. Hmm... But it seemed to me that it was longer..."

"How are you feeling?"

"It's okay, okay... I just see double... Now... Everything's normal."

“Your subtle bodies responsible for your eyes have changed,” Diantrel said in a worried voice, examining her student with her magical vision.

"Yes?"

Having somehow sat down on the sofa, Cyrill made sure that his head was no longer spinning and his vision had cleared, after which he said:

"Well, let's see what we have here..."

Attention!

You have chosen the Emerald Wizard specialization!

"Developed Illusion Mastery" upgraded to "Advanced Illusion Mastery"

Received the property "Charming Eyes (Elite)"

Charming Eyes (Elite) - allows you to use your eyes as a basis for illusionary-hypnotizing techniques with minimal effort. Direct eye contact with the target is required.

Received the minor knowledge Adaptive Invisibility (Elite)

“Adaptive invisibility (elite)” - creating a static illusion that will make you invisible, hiding you from prying eyes, is not that difficult, especially for an adept of the School of Illusions. It is much more difficult to create a dynamic illusion that will allow you to move around freely without fear of being discovered, while remaining completely invisible to those around you. You now know how to create and maintain such an illusion.

Well, what can I say... It was really cool, no doubt about it. Even a cursory assessment of the knowledge and properties gained from choosing a specialization was impressive, to say the least. The combination of “Adaptive Invisibility” and “Subtle Body Mimicry” turned out to be especially cool, giving together a fierce synergy, hiding Cyril from both ordinary and magical vision. At the request of his mentor and the Elder Enchantress, Cyril demonstrated his new skills, literally disappearing from one place in the chambers and then reappearing in another. Both elves and Gata were visibly impressed. Mirael, who had followed the young man's movement with her eyes burning with magical fire, honestly said that if she had not known what and how to look for, she would hardly have noticed the presence of an outsider. Diantrel agreed with her words, and Cyril understood that his mentor had not been able to notice him under his disguise. But the cat-woman said that although she had not noticed Cyril, she could smell him quite well.

Both elves were equally intrigued by Cyrill's new ability to use his eyes as a basis for illusions. At the request of the Elder Enchantress, the young man created a couple of simple but effective illusions that put the target into a simple trance-like stupor. From the outside, it looked as if instead of whites and pupils, two hollows had appeared in Cyrill's eye sockets, in which multicoloured lights danced and swirled. At least, that's how these particular illusions looked. Gata was chosen as the test subject. Cyrill's maid, as soon as she looked into his eyes, almost immediately ‘floated away.’

At that moment, the mentor and the Elder Enchantress watched Cyrill's subtle bodies with great interest. After he had put Gata into a trance several times, Mirael concluded that the changes in Cyrill's subtle bodies, which were related to his eyes, were very similar to those of some snake people. Among them, there are also individuals who are born with a talent for hypnotic gaze. Moreover, some of those who possess this talent are not even particularly gifted, but at best are on par with students.

At the request of both elves, Cyrill demonstrated several more new illusions, which clearly impressed them. Especially when he performed a classic illusionist trick and created several doubles that mixed together. In the end, no one could figure out which one was the real Cyrill. He quietly stepped aside, sat in a chair in the corner of the room, and only then removed his disguise. It was very effective, and both the mentor and the Senior Sorceress acknowledged this at the same time. And almost simultaneously, they politely but firmly asked Cyrill not to abuse such a trick and not to use it for all sorts of nonsense. Like sneaking up on someone unnoticed. Especially if that someone is also a wizard. Cyrill honestly promised that he would not engage in such nonsense under any circumstances.

The presentation ended, and the discussion began again. But now it was about which characteristics to strengthen and what knowledge or properties to acquire. First, at the request of his mentor, Cyrill raised ‘Access to System Purchases’ to level five. And first of all, at her request, he looked at the ‘special’ section that had appeared, where every week some product from the upper segments of the Auction would now be offered at a substantial discount. And, frankly speaking, he was impressed. You could even say he was blown away. Under the questioning glances of Diantrel and Mirael, who appeared calm on the outside but were burning with impatience on the inside — at least his mentor was, he could feel it through their connection — Cyrill coughed and said:

"A special good... I am being offered something very... specific. You can take a look for yourself, honored ones."

Taking Mirael gently by the hand so she could see the System's lines, and simply sending Diantrel a direct link, Cyril allowed both elves to evaluate the goods offered to him in a special section. And although both sorceresses kept their composure, they were also quite... impressed.

Because they offered Cyrill to buy a statuette made of light beige stone, a little over a meter tall. The statuette depicted a middle-aged woman with a luxurious figure, almost completely naked, except for stockings and a corset. Her face was hidden by a half-mask, and her pose was openly provocative. And this lady was an artifact, or rather a relic of incredible power. And equally incredible cunning.

It had only one purpose — to turn any place, be it the barracks of the royal guard, a leper colony, or a temple of ascetic and celibate monks, into a brothel. The less suitable a place was initially for the representatives of the oldest profession, the more time the statuette needed. But the result was always the same: the place would turn into a brothel. The figurine worked slowly and gradually, but, bitch that it was, it was ultimate and completely invisible to those around it, at the same level of reality control as tokens.

Put one of these, for example, in the barracks of the royal paratrooper guards, among whom there are no women, and just time it. First, a couple of female recruits will appear in the ranks of the close-knit male collective in a completely natural way. An order from above, a few really smart female warriors were found, and the guard commander decided to add a couple of his personal warmers to the cause — one way or another, women will appear. And no one will question it.

Then there will be more of them. And even if initially they are monsters, like some ferocious orcs whose faces have long since been replaced by snouts due to their scars, their appearance will gradually begin to improve. This will also happen gradually, imperceptibly, and completely naturally. Social responsibility, on the other hand, will decline. And the longer the figurine remains in effect, the faster the process will go, like a growing snowball. And now, less than a year later, the entire capital garrison knows that the First Royal Guard Women's Battalion is not just a women's battalion, and how the “recruits” are selected. Then the royal court, the entire capital, as well as its guests, know where they can appreciate the “charms of the royal guard” in all their glory.

The figurine, just as powerful as the tokens, promised the “workers” better looks, total satisfaction, a comfy life, and no more health issues. Moreover, when the relic comes into effect, the latter will act almost like an ultimate healing artifact, literally eliminating any diseases, especially sexually transmitted ones, even before reaching the brothel. Which will not be just a brothel — it will be a luxurious brothel. Well, maybe not right away, but after a year of the statuette's work, for sure. Even if you initially place it in some godforsaken place. Well, in the case of a truly remote location, it may take not a year, but two or three, or even four. But in the end, there will be a brothel, if necessary, turning into a city-forming enterprise.

At first glance, it might seem that the statuette is a perfectly usable weapon for carrying out sabotage against hostile factions. If it weren't for one tiny BUT! The relic first had to be taken to the chosen location. By hand. No portals. And then, whoever brought it would have to activate it by dripping a drop of their blood on it. Or rather, she would. Because only a woman could carry and activate the relic, it didn't work with men. And with the same inevitability as the tokens, she would first become one of the workers in the future brothel, and then its madam.

However, it was not certain that it was not a nominal brothel-madam. That was the second BUT. Once it came into effect, the relic would slowly, gradually, but inevitably begin to literally “pull” new workers to itself. And the more power it gained, the more exotic, powerful, and influential women it would attract. After making sure that Diantrel and Mirael were fully familiar with the description of this “special” lot, Cyril sent it to the furnace with a couple of mental commands. In other words, he refused to buy it. And the figurine disappeared, and the special section was empty until the following week. For which he received silent but approving nods.

After this minor setback, Cyrill, like his mentor, raised his “System Task Assignment” to the fourth level. Following Diantrel's advice, he improved his “advanced fundamentals of working with advanced amulets and artifacts.” At first glance, it might seem that this knowledge was not the most important for him, but as he had discovered during his travels, the ability to use complex amulets and artifacts was never superfluous. Three talent points, and “advanced basics of working with advanced amulets and artifacts” first turned into “methods of working with advanced amulets and artifacts,” then into developed, and then into “advanced methods of working with advanced amulets and artifacts.”

Two more talent points were spent on improving his ‘developed skills in working with external energy sources,’ first bringing him to the advanced level, and then raising it to ‘methods of working with powerful external energy sources.’ This, combined with Cyrill's new property, ‘Filtering Aura (Elite),’ was also very useful. After assessing his student's new ability, Diantrel and Mirael came to a conclusion: if Cyrill had this ability in the Underworld, he could restore his strength from natural magic, which was abundant there, with no risk. And, accordingly, he would have no problems with his reserves. Well, almost.

Cyrill invested the remaining two talent points in improving his ‘advanced basics of magical duelling with combat wands,’ ultimately bringing him to the level of ‘developed magical duelling with combat wands.’ Because, as his sudden adventure had once again shown, the ability to use combat wands is never superfluous. Because it's not a given that you'll be able to sit behind a reliable barrier or hide.

Having sorted out his talent points, Cyrill moved on, with bated breath, to receiving the two lots promised by the System from the Auction. And the first one elicited an admiring sigh from him. And not only from him. Diantrel and Mirael were also completely captivated when they received a description of the small wand made of dark polished metal with a transparent faceted crystal finial that appeared in Cyril's hand. The “Sketcher” was probably the wet dream of any wizard, but first and foremost, a ritualist. This was because up to ten ritual circle templates could be stored in this artifact. Then, all one had to do was touch the tip of the wand to a suitable surface, and it would instantly form the base weave of the template stored in it, of virtually any complexity. That's it, you're done! There was no need to spend a long time laboriously drawing a ritual circle; it was enough to simply sprinkle it with a base material, such as magic powder. Or you could simply pour magical energy into the base weave, although this was much less effective.

In any case, the artifact is awesome and definitely not superfluous for Kirill, even though he didn't choose “Ritualist” as his specialization. Diantrel immediately declared that they would definitely need to fill this extremely useful artifact in the near future. Cyril never objected. But the second lot... It made him groan mentally, roll his eyes, and wish Master all the best, like cholera, plague, and leprosy all at once.

The lot called “Magic of Passion” was a medium-sized bottle made of delicate pink glass in the shape of a heart. Its contents significantly enhanced the Source. One could even say that it enhanced it tremendously, and the lower the initial characteristic, the greater the enhancement. For someone with no talent, this potion could instantly raise that characteristic to almost ten, or even higher. Well, at least to eight or nine, instantly turning someone deprived of the gift of magic into a strong adept. For Diantrel or Mirael, this potion would raise the Source to at least three, although more likely to four, and in the best case, maybe even five. For Cyril, it would almost certainly raise Istok to a five. If he were a woman. Because this potion only worked on members of the fair sex. And this peculiarity was the reason for Cyril's reaction to this lot.

The “Magic of Passion” really did greatly increase the Source of the woman who drank it. But at the same time, it practically nullified her ability to restore her reserves naturally and made it very difficult to restore them from any external sources. Except for one. Sex. Tantric methods of replenishing reserves, on the contrary, were greatly enhanced by this potion. However, they now only worked in one direction. In fact, this potion turned the woman who drank it into an analogue of a classic succubus. The only difference, and this was indicated separately in the description, was that she was physically incapable of harming her partner by draining too much energy. After a certain limit, the ability to obtain energy from a “drained” partner simply disappeared.

This logically led to the conclusion that a woman who drank this potion would do well to have a small male harem at her side. Preferably, it would be desirable for them to be gifted representatives of the stronger sex. A bonus effect was the improvement in the appearance of the woman who drank the potion. Her hair would become thicker and fuller, grow better, her skin would become smooth and clear, and any warts or moles would disappear. Even her figure would begin to change, and not only her upper and lower body, but also her legs, if they were crooked, would gradually straighten out. But damn... For a moment, Cyril's mind conjured up an image of Diantrel sitting cross-legged on the sofa, surrounded by five burly, muscular black guys. And immediately, he wanted to pour this potion into the garbage pit. Although no, that's a shitty idea, better into a disposal unit for hazardous alchemical reagents. Only there was none at hand. Therefore, coughing, Cyril pushed away the bottle that appeared in front of him and said:

"I don't need this, and I won't be able to use it. So, do with it what you think is necessary."

After exchanging glances, Diantrell and Mirael looked at the heart-shaped bottle for a few seconds, then the Elder Enchantress said:

"A gift as tempting as it is poisonous..."

"I would even say," Diantrel continued, "that it is rather a heavily sweetened poison."

"Indeed," Mirael nodded, "With your permission, Ciriall, I will pass it on to the alchemists of the Secret Guard for study. Of course, perhaps there will be one in the Forest who would wish to strengthen her gift at such a price, but I would be very surprised by that..."

With these words, the Elder Enchantress smoothly lifted the vial into the air, then surrounded it with a dense barrier that squeezed the ‘Magic of Passion’ from all sides like vacuum packaging, and then carefully put it into a small bag hanging from her belt. And there was no way a bottle of that size could fit in it, unless she played around with the internal volume.

Having sorted out the prize lots, it was decided to move on to modifying the comrades-in-arms. Or rather, comrades-in-arms. Cyrill had seven points, which was pretty good, but now he had two companions. And soon there might be three, since there was one tailed candidate. And even though Gata never said so directly, Cyrill was sure that the cat woman was ready to bite her tail in frustration that she had to stay at the Palace when planning the trip to White Harbour.

Three points are immediately allocated to increasing the modifiers for magical reserve recovery, as well as physical and subtle body healing, bringing them up to three. And that was serious. At the third level, physical healing could, if not revive the dead, then at least get the practically dead back on their feet. Well, at least heal their body, since wounds vary. But if all three modifiers were used together on one target, then... I didn't want to test it categorically, but in theory, if the descriptions were to be believed, even a severed head would grow back onto a body that had been blown apart by a direct hit from combat magic, which had vaporised most of the subtle bodies. In the worst case, the body would grow back from the head. However, in this case, the magical reserve will most likely be used to restore the lost flesh.

The combination is, frankly speaking, very cool, but his magnificent patroness sees it, and Cyrill did not want to even theoretically bring himself to a situation where he would need it. Not at all. But he had nothing against the existence of such an emergency result. Let it be.

Two more points go to a new modifier that only appeared after reaching the fourth level of connection with the mentor, called ‘Modifier Extrapolation II.’ This modifier allowed, at the second level, to apply the modifiers not only to Cyrill or his Companions, but to anyone within their direct magical visibility. And, as Mirael said directly and immediately to Cyrill, just for having these modifiers, which allowed him to heal the most complex physical and magical injuries, Les would have settled him in the Royal Palace with full board and lodging of the highest order.

The remaining two modifier points were suggested by Diantrel and Mirael to be saved for now and used to strengthen Armina when she is declared fully healthy. Because it is better to have two sets of the System's healing gifts than just one. Cyrill agreed wholeheartedly. The unscheduled run across the steppes and dungeons clearly showed him how useful it was to have the ability to fully restore spent reserves at his disposal.

In the end, there was essentially one question left. The fourth level of connection with Diantrel allowed her to freely transfer to Cyrill either one specific piece of knowledge from her arsenal, but no higher than the advanced level, or two random pieces of knowledge of any level. So the question of which option to choose was not an easy one. On the one hand, a guaranteed advanced level was definitely not superfluous. On the other hand, the chance to immediately obtain ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic (air)’ was extremely tempting. So, what to choose? After joint discussions, Cyrill decided to take a risk and chose the second option.

Mental command. Confirmation. And... And...

"Well, this is just fucking awesome..." was all Cyrill could say after reading the system messages.

Both elves and Gata exchanged glances, not understanding what had happened. And then it dawned on Diantrel and Mirael. It dawned on them that Cyrill had said it in the dwarf language. To be precise, the dwarf language of Undermountain. Because the knowledge he had acquired...

Attention!

Knowledge received: Spoken and written language of the dwarves of Undermountain.

Attention!

Knowledge received: Oral and written speech Rising Empire (classic/simplified).

...were not quite what he expected. For several minutes, burning with righteous anger, Cyrill tormented the System's Help. But alas, everything was above board. Knowledge of written and spoken language was also considered knowledge, which meant it could be freely transferred. This caused Cyril's indignation to know no bounds, and he loudly voiced it to his mentor, the Elder Enchantress, and Gata. He switched between dwarven, elven, and the language of the Eastern Empire. The attempts of the elves and the maid to calm him down with words that there is no such thing as unnecessary knowledge were of little comfort. But somehow calming down and stopping switching from one language to another, Cyril politely said goodbye to Diantrel and Mirael and headed towards the sofa.

The selected knowledge was already weighing heavily on his mind, demanding to be loaded. And he still had to distribute his attribute points. However, there were no questions about that; Cyrill had discussed this point at the very beginning with his mentor and the Elder Enchantress. He decided to invest all four points in Control, which, for an illusionist, was not the most important of the three magical characteristics. And he was noticeably lagging behind the others in this area.

So when the elves left, Cyrill lay down on the sofa and... actually made a mistake by investing two points in Control at once, bringing it up to ten. He just really wanted to choose the bonus property right away... Both bodies, physical and subtle, were squeezed from all sides as if by pincers, and lines of a system message appeared in his mind.

Attention!

The Control characteristic has reached a value of 10! Select one of the two properties:

1. "Macro Control" Facilitates control and management of large weaves, both in volume and in the power of the magical energy invested in them.

2. "Micro Control" Facilitates control and management of small weaves, allowing for better pinpoint impact.

Hmm... So, what should he choose... Both would be good and not superfluous. ‘Macro Control’ will make it easier to create large-scale and voluminous illusions. ‘Micro Control’ will make it easier to create specific illusions, such as other people's faces, as realistic as possible without any flaws. Hmm... Damn!

Feeling that the System was putting increasing pressure on him, Cyrill chose ‘Micro Control’ after all, whereupon his consciousness surrendered under the onslaught of new information flooding into him...

* * *

An elf with short white hair, like her mentor's, and a body as toned as an athlete's, wearing only short, tight-fitting white pants and a tight-fitting white vest, practiced hand-to-hand and foot combat techniques with a determined and even angry expression on her beautiful face. Her partner was a young, quite handsome man with slightly curly dark hair and the same athletic body. Fortunately, he was wearing only shorts, so it was easy to appreciate his figure. Drenched in sweat, the guy barely managed to block the elf's blows, using special gloves to which something like shields covered with thick, dense fabric were attached. The latter, moreover, were also enchanted, as the white-haired girl was gifted and clearly enhanced her blows with magic. Not too much, but it was more than enough for the guy.

He didn't last long, and after another kick from the elf, he couldn't hold on and fell on his back. The winner, with a satisfied and angry look on her face, stood on top of him, stepping with her bare feet directly on the guy's heavily heaving chest. He was just gasping for air, and it was clear that he was exhausted. Flashing her green eyes, the elf reached out her hand, and a water flask immediately flew through the air into it. After taking a few greedy sips, she poured the rest of the flask's contents over her head with a strange smile. As a result, her clothes, already wet with sweat, became completely soaked, revealing almost everything. For example, her breasts, clearly enlarged by alchemy or magic, with nipples visible through the thin fabric.

And streams of water flowed from it directly onto the guy, hitting him in the face and even in the mouth, through which he continued to greedily swallow air. Unexpectedly, the thoroughly exhausted and beaten guy, lying helplessly on the floor, turned to the side and looked directly at Cyril. And he smiled maliciously, sticking out his tongue. What the...

A muffled scream from somewhere behind him made the young man turn around abruptly. And he was stunned by what he saw. Four huge figures, clearly over two meters tall, clad in grotesque bright blue armor with numerous marks from blows and hits, were holding a well-fed young man by his arms and legs with eight hands. He was also wearing armor, but while the armor of the four figures had a grotesque futuristic look, his was classic knight's armor. True, it was designed for a rather well-fed wearer.

With a face contorted with rage, crimson and, frankly speaking, not very attractive, he looked at the guy lying on the floor, with a white-haired elf standing over him. He tried desperately to break free so he could beat the shit out of this faggot, asking why the fuck is, and not him, let go of him, you bastards, I'll beat him up, aaaahhhh!!!

But four grotesque warriors struggled to hold him up, as if a well-fed and frankly unattractive guy was standing on all fours. Because from his rear end, a powerful stream of not even flame, but pure plasma, roared out with a trumpeting roar, burning away hordes of some terrifying creatures that were surging toward the grotesque warriors in waves. Their commander, in more elaborate armor, standing slightly to the side, growled:

"It's going well! I don't know what visions you're showing him, but keep up your magic, Eldar!"

The figure in the red cloak, resembling the unnatural child of the impossible love between Sarah Connor and the Terminator, squeaked in a mechanical voice:

"Such an act is classified as pure heresy on seventeen counts..."

"We'll discuss this later, when we've repelled the swarm's invasion! Burn harder, Eldar!"

"Willie, let me in, let me in to this faggot, at least once, let hit him, the lucky bastard, Willie, your mothereeeee!!!"

Only now did Cyrill notice the elf standing slightly ahead and to the side of the guy with butt literally on fire, dressed in a luxurious robe. With a face contorted with tension, he was showing him something. But what exactly...

* * *

Cyril came to his senses in the evening. He didn't want to get up from the sofa, but he had to. His head was heavy from all the new knowledge, but it was bearable. Somehow getting to his feet, Cyril gestured to Gata, who had rushed to set the table, to calm down, visited the bathroom and bathhouse, changed into his pajamas, ate something, and, now in the company of Gata, went to the bedroom. Two more points of characteristics. The night would be difficult, but tomorrow he would be fully ready for work and defense!

Settling down comfortably in an embrace with a sweetly purring cat-woman, Cyril opened his Status with a mental command. Before putting on his points, he scanned the status with his eyes and smiled involuntarily. Yeah, not so long ago, all he could do was throw magic arrows, but now... Wait... What the hell? When he reached the lines about Tokens, Cyril stared at them in bewilderment. Or rather, at the three lines that followed the Tokens:

Naughty Tongue:

"Consigned to Oblivion" Fourth Sister 100/100

Gyar'Skalashass 100/100

Li Yan 98/100"

What. The. Hell. Okay, stop, stop, stop. During his treatment and subsequent rest and idleness, Cyrill somehow completely forgot about his joke with the token on board the ship. Which now, with a clear head, doesn't seem like a joke at all, but looks like outright stupidity, which is even embarrassing. But! BUT! The dragon lady is understandable. The female Shinobi is understandable. But who the hell is the first one?! He only used the token twice! What the hell is... the Fourth Sister?

For literally a minute, Cirill tried to remember and understand where, when, and on whom he could use this token. To no avail. Okay. Okay. Since I can't remember, let's see who this sister is... A mental command and...

Before Cirill's eyes appeared a female figure in dark clothes, wearing a hooded mask on her head, standing bent over a table with some kind of equipment in a dimly lit room that looked like a basement. She suddenly straightened up, simultaneously pulling a pair of daggers with dark blades out of nowhere when the Token activated. Turning quickly, she spun her head from side to side, and two red dots flashed under her hood. With that, the vision disappeared.

What the... You fucking bitch... You fucking cunt... Ooooh, yeah. Cyrill had no idea how or when he managed to use the Token on that bitch from the Dark Brotherhood. Apparently, he wasn't aware of it himself, since he wasn't in the best condition at that moment after a night-time run across the steppes. But it worked out very well. Feeling his lips stretch into a malicious smile, he gave a mental command. And then he confirmed it.

And the token usage counter began to drop from 99 to zero. And in his mind, the red-eyed bitch reappeared, first twitching and spinning like a top, then dropping her weapon and grabbing her crotch with both hands. By the time the last charge went off, she was lying arched out on the floor, having pulled off her dark pants and lifted either her jacket or her shirt. The bitch held one hand between her legs and used the other to torment her very impressive breasts, which heaved heavily. And beneath her, a whole puddle of love juices had formed.

At that moment, the vision disappeared. And Cyrill, with a satisfied and vengeful smile, closed his eyes, investing his remaining two attribute points in Control, raising it to 12.

* * *

As soon as Armina crossed the finish line, the examiner’s sharp voice announced the training ground:

"Time!"

With a heavy sigh, the girl, drenched in sweat, straightened up, trying to catch her breath. It seemed as if every muscle in her body was buzzing with tension and fatigue. But it was a surprisingly pleasant kind of fatigue. After all, she had just completed a difficult obstacle course used for training only by experienced and skilled Secret Guard operatives. And she had completed it flawlessly and quickly! Before, she could only dream of such a thing, imagining herself as a legendary warrior or an equally legendary agent, about whom only rumors circulated among newcomers and junior officers. And those rumors were whispered.

And now, thanks to the Tablet, fantasies have become reality! True, at what cost... Armina was ready to swear on the altars of all the gods that if she had known what would happen with this seemingly ordinary assignment to escort a protected object, she would never have agreed to it. Even if she had been told what reward she would receive in case of success. Even if it meant putting an end to her service in the Secret Guard. No, she would rather become a simple servant than go through something like this again...

For more than a week, she was tormented by two kinds of terrible nightmares. In one of them, there was a deafening roar, suffocating darkness, and scorching flames that threatened to burn not only her body but also her soul. In the other, there was also darkness, but it was an infinitely heavy, oppressive darkness, in which something was hidden... something old, evil, and unimaginably huge, compared to which Armina was smaller than a gnat. And whispers. Cursed whispers that penetrated her head even through her clogged ears, straight into her skull.

The latter was particularly painful, so much so that at one point, Armina couldn't take it anymore and spent part of the reward she had received from the Soul Tablet she had found. Fortunately, the power she had gained proved to be more than generous... However, some of its gifts... were cause for concern...

Attention!

Level 13 reached!..

Level 14 reached!..

Level 15 reached!..

Level 16 reached!..

Level 17 reached!..

Attention!

You and the Chosen One of Auriel the Magnificent, Supreme Guardian of the Balance of Worlds, Standing Guard over the Balance of Forces, have accomplished a deed worthy of HER name!

For centuries, even after his death and against his will, the last Supreme Guardian continued to serve and fulfil his duty, condemning countless living beings, both intelligent and unintelligent, to death for this cause.

Thanks to you and the Chosen One, and despite the Supreme Guardian himself, his overly prolonged service has come to an end.

Received 3 free attribute points.

Received 3 free talent points.

Received 3 limited talent points that can be spent on enhancing existing properties or acquiring new ones, including the gifts of the Tablet.

Additional reward (hidden, visible only to the companion):

Knowledge received: "Advanced techniques and methods of seduction and manipulation"

Received Property: "Charming Voice (Elite)"

‘Charming Voice (elite)’ - you intuitively know which words and intonations to choose to win over your interlocutor. And you know how to use just a drop of your gift to make them forget everything else and want to listen to HOW you speak. Without paying attention to WHAT you are saying, what they are responding to, or what they agree with.

Attention!

You and the Chosen One of Aurial the Magnificent, the Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing on Guard of the Balance of Powers, have accomplished an accomplishment worthy of HER name!!

Few people in the long centuries of his life have had the chance to see the One Who Was Born in the Eternal Darkness and Hot Flames of the Earth's Depths at the Dawn of Time. Even fewer have survived to tell anyone about that encounter. Not only did you and the Chosen One survive the encounter with him, but you also managed to avoid his wrath, which was directed specifically at you, and prevent the death of anyone with you. Such a feat deserves a worthy reward.

Received 4 free attribute points.

Received 4 free talent points.

Received 4 limited talent points that can be spent on enhancing existing properties or acquiring new ones, including the gifts of the Tablet.

One random lot from the high price segment of the Auction was received.

Received property: "Natural Regeneration I"

‘Natural Regeneration I’ - your wounds heal slightly faster and easier than those of ordinary people, your body resists disease slightly better, and removes harmful foreign substances more quickly.

Additional reward (hidden, visible only to the companion):

Knowledge received: "Advanced Acupuncture Skills"

Received token: "Request for a little help 25/25"

‘A request for a little help 25/25’ - there's nothing wrong with asking someone to help you with small things. Mopping the floors for you, clearing the table, or relieving pent-up excitement. If the help is really small and does not cause direct or indirect harm to anyone, the person you ask will not refuse you. And it doesn't matter what you ask them to do. The same goes for those around you.

Received property: "Sensitivity to Magic (Elite)"

‘Sensitivity to Magic (Elite)’ - Your sensitivity characteristic increases by two points. You are highly sensitive to magic, whether it be natural magic, spells cast by others, or its flow in the subtle bodies of gifted individuals. The closer you are to the target, the better you can sense it. But remember! Feeling does not mean understanding, and an excess of feelings is not always beneficial to you.

Even for half of the gifts she received, hundreds, if not thousands, of humans and non-humans would have committed any atrocity or vileness without hesitation for the chance to obtain them. And the gods know that she would have gone to great lengths for something like that. I sincerely wanted to believe that not everything, but certainly a great deal. Because the power hidden within them... It turned out to be incredible!

The first thing Armina did was spend two points on increasing her Resistance, bringing its total value to 4. The sensations from this, as Mr. Cirial and the venerable Diantrel had said, were not the most pleasant; the girl was overcome by a heavy oblivion. But when she came to after almost six hours, she discovered that for the first time since her return, she had been able to sleep normally, without any nightmares. No, she hadn't completely gotten rid of them, but she felt noticeably better, and even the venerable Geatral noted this and didn't even scold her for her insubordination. After all, Armina's supervisors from the Secret Guard had asked her not to touch the gifts of the tablet until she recovered. But they forgave her this small transgression without any problems. They even allowed her to continue investing her attribute points, one per day.

Armina gradually increased her Constitution stat to 10, receiving three properties of her choice in return: ‘Vitality,’ ‘Toughness,’ and ‘Physical Enhancement.’ The first, as the name suggests, literally increased her survivability, further enhancing regeneration, to the point of instantly healing small wounds and cuts. It also increased her resistance to poisons and diseases to such an extent that Armina was immune to ordinary infections and poisons that were not enhanced by magic. Especially considering the four in the Resistance. And even the enhanced version would not have been able to cope immediately, unless we are talking about the most lethal compounds.

The second would make her body permanently stronger, so breaking an arm or leg would now be much more difficult. In addition, Armina would be able to use her life energy and the crumbs of her gift available to her to temporarily strengthen her body several times over. Making it literally impenetrable. Well, very difficult to penetrate. Raiders from the Ice Islands were particularly famous for such tricks, and even among the orc warriors, some fighters went into battle without armour, but enemy blades could not even properly wound their bodies. It was as if they were stabbing not into living flesh, but sturdy wood.

The third did not provide such pronounced enhancements, but overall, it made Armina physically stronger, increased his reaction speed, speed in general, as well as agility and flexibility. She was still far from the best green-skinned or dwarf fighters, famous for their ability to break horseshoes in their palms or punch through doors with their fists. But, for example, the same dwarf battle hammer that Armina could only lift and wave around a little before, she could now use in battle. Not for long, though. On the advice of her mentors, who had evaluated all three gifts, she chose the third option. This, combined with ‘Trained Body I,’ gave her a noticeable boost.

Following their advice, she distributed her talent points. Two of her limited points went towards purchasing access to the goods offered by the Tablet. She wanted to purchase a third, but unfortunately, it was not yet available. It required the twentieth level. Two more went towards purchasing ‘Trained Body II’ and ‘Natural Regeneration II,’ which further strengthened her physically and increased her chances of survival.

From what she already knew, she wanted most of all to improve her skill with her beloved throwing needles. Especially since, as a reward from the Tablets, she had received the magnificent artefact known as the Hidden Sting. It looked like a simple silver ring without any decorations or engravings. But with just a single thought and a speck of magical energy, a long and incredibly sharp throwing needle appeared in Armina's hand, charged with magic like a high-quality combat wand. It was capable of passing through most magical defences very well, like an awl through chain mail. And it could break through solid magical barriers quite well. And there could be up to three dozen such needles in reserve! You can summon them one at a time, or several at once!

They flew magnificently, leaving Armina's hand no worse than arrows leaving a bowstring, and flew just as fast! And most importantly, they were accurate! This was thanks to years of training and the acquired ‘Accuracy II’ skill, which took up two more limited talent points. With it, Armina simply surpassed herself, managing to hit targets not just in the eyes, but in the narrow slit of the helmet!

But alas, ‘advanced skills in handling throwing weapons (needles)’ had reached its limit. It was necessary to increase the Constitution even further, at least to 12, or reach the twentieth level. So, on the advice of the same supervisors, Armina raised to an advanced level her developed skills in handling short cold weapons (knives/daggers/stilettos), developed close combat skills, and developed general intelligence work skills, spending three talent points on this. As a result, she still had nine regular and one limited talent point left. She spent the latter on one of the Tablets' special gifts, called ‘Target Tracking I,’ and then spent another point to upgrade it to the second level.

It allowed Armina to attach an invisible and imperceptible mark to the selected target, which would allow her to track the target, ignoring literally any camouflage. Well, certainly up to the level of an archmage! However, this tracking only worked within a limited radius of fifty metres. Once this radius was exceeded, the mark disappeared. Moreover, only one mark could be placed at a time. At least, without investing additional talent points. As Armina honestly told her supervisors, if you invested properly in this gift of the Tablets, you could increase the number of targets tracked and the distance. But each enhancement required talent points. And spending so much on one gift of the Tablets was obviously excessive, considering how much it offered.

She spent two more talent points on acquiring the same gift from the Tablets that Mr. Cirial had: System Assignment II. The first task she received almost immediately was to retake her physical training final exam, but in half the time and without any mistakes. The reward promised was only funds for purchasing the Tablet goods, equal to the amount for about two weeks. She was given three days to complete the task, and Armina, of course, agreed and, with the approval of the supervisors, completed the obstacle course in a third of the time without a single mistake! This greatly impressed all the observers. So much so that they decided to organise another exam for her, but this time according to the standards of experienced Secret Guard operatives.

Not immediately, of course, but after Armina had distributed the remaining talent points. She spent three points at once, on the advice of the same supervisor, on the minor knowledge ‘Enhanced Strike III.’ As the name suggests, it allowed her to put extra power into a physical attack, giving it new properties. And after trying it out, Armina never regretted her choice! With maximum force, a blow with a regular dagger pierced the good plate armour used by the heavy fighters of the Forest Guard. Even though they were enchanted! And it also pierced the wooden torso on which they were worn, piercing the underarmour! And Armina felt no resistance at all! Instead, she felt completely exhausted, as this technique required a considerable amount of energy to perform. At the limit of her strength, she could strike like that three or four times. To the maximum, as now, piercing the Forest Guard's plate armour with a knife. But after that, she would only have enough strength to lie down.

At that moment, Armina even regretted spending all her attribute points in Cinstitution without investing at least a couple in Source. However, the Tablet immediately informed her that without a ten in Constitution, she would only be able to acquire, at most, ‘Enhanced Strike II.’ However, if she didn't invest all her strength and used the conditional ‘Enhanced Strike I’ instead, she would probably be able to deliver a dozen or two strikes before fatigue set in.

In any case, it would be useful to have such a powerful attack in her arsenal, and she completely agreed with her supervisors on this! She suggested holding on to the remaining three points for now, so that they could be used at higher levels. Everyone agreed with this as well. Well, the next day, she was given a new exam. She didn't just pass it, she passed it with flying colours! She completed the obstacle course for experienced operatives flawlessly. The examiners informed her of this with grudging approval. At the same time, they issued the corresponding patent, which automatically increased Armina's value as an agent. And, accordingly, her satisfaction.

She left the training ground feeling extremely pleased with herself. Now she had to undergo additional training, and then she could return to her duties. The only thing that caused her some concern was the gifts she had received from the Tablet. She immediately recalled the circumstances of its acquisition, when she was offered the choice of becoming a Concubine. At the mere memory of the prospects that the Tablet's lines had painted for her at the time, she had to make an effort to keep a straight face.

No, Armina understood perfectly well when she accepted the offer to train with the Secret Guard that she might be assigned honey missions. In fact, her current one had a rather sweet taste to it. But still, it wasn't her main specialty! She had trained primarily as an undercover operative, not a seductress! But the gifts that the Tablet had offered and now presented to her involuntarily gave rise to disturbing thoughts. No, it couldn't be...

The face of one of the Secret Guard's female agents and instructors involuntarily came to mind. At the very beginning, she suggested that Armina take the honey path, saying outright that she had all the necessary qualities for it. And not just qualities, but real talent. Was it really worth agreeing then... No, no! And anyway, if she had gone down the honey path, she would not have been introduced to Cirial! And that means she would not have gotten these gifts! Hidden gifts...

Armina herself could not really explain why she had not mentioned the gifts the Tablet had secretly given her. Most likely, the fear that, upon evaluating them, her supervisors would transfer her to another assignment, which would surely be a honey one. And she had no desire to leave Mr. Cirial. After all, she was now his Guardian...

* * *

The meeting room located in the Secret Guard Building was unexpectedly crowded. In fact, almost the entire Forest leadership was present, including the king himself. Rubbing her temples wearily, his wife said in a tired voice:

I can confidently say... it could have been worse.

Iardal, casting a short glance at Sivila, said in an indifferent, cold voice:

"It could always be worse. We could have lost control of the Guest. Or it could have died. But what happened in the end wasn't much better."

Having carefully looked at everyone with a stern gaze, the king continued in the same cold voice, looking at Third:

"Your agents messed up. I never imagined they would fall for this boy's tricks."

Third one withstood Iardal's gaze completely calmly and replied:

"As subsequent events showed, the immediate elimination of witnesses immediately after the abduction..."

“That's not what I'm talking about,” the king interrupted sharply, "and you know it very well. Your agents should have gotten rid of the witnesses as soon as they broke away from the pursuit and continued on their way alone. But instead, they followed the lead of a young Humas boy who decided to play the noble hero from legends that are little more than complete fabrications. And what do we have as a result?"

Looking at everyone once again with a stern gaze, Iardal continued:

"The Guest has been exposed, and with certainty, and in such a way that interest in him will undoubtedly be enormous. There are too many different witnesses we cannot influence in any way. And all because of your agents. To be honest, I had a much higher opinion of them."

Third, who had been listening calmly to Iardal, answered in an absolutely calm voice:

"As you correctly said, The Guest is still very young, even by Human standards. Considering the specifics of working with him, we need him to be as loyal to the Forest as possible. I would like to note that we are currently in perfect order in this regard. However, according to my analysts' conclusions, the murder of unwitting witnesses, some of whom helped The Guest survive, would have significantly undermined, if not destroyed, this loyalty. If he had a different character, if he were older, he might have understood and accepted such harsh actions. But we have to work with what we have."

"I dare say," Mirael interjected, "that Diantrel will soon gently lead him to the conclusion that sometimes it is necessary to act... harshly or even cruelly. Our influence on the Guest is more than sufficient for this; the main thing is to lead him to this idea smoothly."

“It’s good to hear that,” said Iardal, casting a slightly softer glance at the Elder Enchantress.

Transferring it back to Third, he also asked harshly:

"But this does not cancel the main question: what to do with the exposé of the Guest?"

The head of the Secret Forest Guard shrugged his shoulders imperturbably:

"As usual. If you can't hide something, pass it off as something else."

Iardal looked meaningfully at Third and asked with demonstrative interest:

"And what do you propose to give out the exposure of the Guest for?"

An unexpected silence fell over the room. For a few seconds, Iardal stared at Third. Third stared back at him. Then it dawned on the king that everyone was looking at him. Frowning, he glanced coldly at his colleagues and asked briefly:

"What?"

"As it turned out, we didn't even have to try particularly hard to come up with something," Sivila came in from afar, trying to keep her expression as calm as possible. "Those very witnesses, whose non-occurrence of death you were so worried about, handled it perfectly."

Iardal turned to his wife and raised his eyebrows demonstratively and meaningfully:

"Let me ask you, how exactly?"

"A gifted young half-elf, his mother is from the Humans, his father is the firstborn, but remains unknown. At the same time, he is clearly wealthy, as his offspring is under the care of a sorceress who is well known in the Forest Guard..."

Judging by his suddenly petrified expression, the king finally understood. The third man, his face still devoid of emotion, chimed in:

The first thought about your fatherhood came to the Caliphate merchant in the Kardarot vault. And when you personally appeared to rescue the Guest on the flagship of the White Fleet, he was finally convinced of this. He then shared all his thoughts with the secret advisors and assistants of the venerable Kin Yao, who showed a keen interest in them. As did his companions. The dark dwarfs told Gyar'Skalashass a little less, but they also fully appreciated... the unusual nature of the Guest and his companions, which led her to some extremely interesting thoughts. And then the Imperials shared the information with her, so...

"By now, practically everyone in White Harbour knows that the King of the Forest has another illegitimate son," Sivila concluded.

"So that's how it is..."

Iardal's face remained completely impassive. He was silent for a few seconds, then asked briefly:

"Gradiana?"

"Yes."

With a heavy sigh, the king leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes with his hands. Everyone continued to stare at him silently, waiting. After about a minute, Iardal straightened up, looked at everyone with an indifferent, cold gaze, and asked:

"So who is this remarkable human woman who has managed to capture my attention?"

"That's a good question. The whole of White Harbour is asking it right now. And not only them, but also part of the Forest," said Sivila with noticeable sarcasm in her voice, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest. "We already have a dozen candidates, but we haven't decided yet whether to appoint just one or all of them at once..."

"It doesn't make sense."

First's quiet voice silenced the queen mid-sentence, and everyone turned to the eldest of those present, who was sitting next to Third. He had been silent almost the entire time, staring ahead and thinking about something.

"Excuse me?" Sivila asked cautiously, not noticing how she had straightened up.

"There's no point wasting energy on this," said First in a tired voice.

After carefully surveying all his relatives, he explained:

"The guest's appearance is not particularly significant. Because the main thing we learned, thanks to our sun-loving allies, is that Master did not perish at the hands of the Terror of Diarten. And that means..."

First's voice became extremely harsh and cold:

"He could do the same thing to us at any moment. Reveal the identity of the ‘Guest.’ He may be preparing a response right now. For him, it would be the most logical step. Once everyone learns that the Forest has the owner of the Tablets, many may consider the possibility of an alliance with him."

Folding his hands in front of him, the Supreme Emissary said in an extremely serious voice:

"The sun worshippers are out of the question; they will never forgive him. But the Islands and the Caliphate will definitely be interested. With the Dragons... It's complicated. With the Confederation, you can be sure that as soon as they receive such a message from Master, half of them will offer him their friendship and help, while the other half will demand that we share the power of the Tablets... Just like the Emperor of the Eastern Empire. The current one is smart enough not to deal with a mentalist like Master, but as for his vassals... We need to work through and think about all this properly."

"Wait a minute," Mirael raised her hand, frowning, "if the Master is really alive, why didn't he reveal the Guest earlier? He sent him that message through the power of the Tablets, after all..."

"We don't know for sure who sent that message," First shook his head sharply, "and that raises more questions. If the message wasn't from Master, then it's clear why he, being alive, hasn't yet revealed the ‘Guest.’ He's sure he was able to kill him. But now, as soon as the news reaches him, nothing will stop him from making a counter move. In addition, the question arises, who sent the message? But if the message was sent by the Master after all, and he already knew then that the ‘Guest’ was alive, it is unclear why he remained silent and what he was waiting for..."

After a few seconds of silence, First said in an infinitely weary voice:

"In any case, it doesn't make much sense to waste energy on additional cover stories for The Guest when his identity could be revealed at any moment. It would be better to think through and work out options in case his identity is revealed. And also to deal with the Guest himself. In particular..."

The first one snapped his fingers, and a three-dimensional image appeared above the table, showing the restaurant in White Harbour a few moments before the massacre began.

"... I am extremely interested in how he learned about the impending threat. This needs to be investigated. Furthermore, as the appearance of the Deep One has shown, he should be taught basic methods and techniques for protecting the mind. We have a suitable candidate."

"I agree that lessons in mental defence would not hurt the Guest, but I still do not approve of her candidacy," began Sivila, but First stopped her with a gesture.

"On the contrary, it is very well suited. Not only as a specialist, but also as a means of testing."

"What kind of check?" asked the Elder Enchantress.

A strange expression appeared on First's face in response...

The statuses of Diantrel, Cyrill, and Armina at the time of the final chapter:

* * *

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

Level: 54

Connection level with the Chosen One: 4 (outstanding).

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

Class: Battle Sorceress

Characteristics: 0

Talents (free):0 (limited): 0

Constitution: 4

Sensitivity: 5

Power: 16

Control: 16

Source: 16

Spirit: 3

Resistance: 4

Acquired Knowledge:

Oral and Written:

Written and spoken: Classic Elven, Dark Elven, Free Cities, Northern Theocracy, Island Kingdom, Southern Caliphate, Undermountain Dwarven, Western Steppe, Central Steppe, Green Steppe, Northern Kingdoms, Ice Isles, Rising Empire (Classic/Simplified), Gem Cities dialects, Southeastern Lesser Kingdoms.

General knowledge:

“advanced mastery of martial weaves”, ‘developed mastery of generalist weaves’, ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic (air)’, ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic (fire)’, ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic (earth)’, ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic (water)’, “master creation and application of advanced ritual circles”, ‘advanced barrier and protection weaves’, ‘master control of internal energies’, ‘developed mastery of advanced amulets and artifacts’, ‘advanced ability to work with powerful external sources’, “advanced dueling with magical wands”, ‘advanced magical combat tactics’, ‘advanced magical search techniques’, ‘advanced magical disguise techniques’, ‘developed wilderness reconnaissance skills’, ‘developed wilderness survival skills’, ‘advanced magic-diversion skills’, “advanced mago-martial training instructor skills”, ‘advanced healing weaves’, ‘advanced archery’, ‘advanced fencing with one-handed blades (classical elven school)’, ‘advanced knowledge of general alchemy’, ‘advanced agent work’, 'advanced combat magic flight"

Minor Knowledge:

"Blink"

Acquired properties

"Developed Subtle Bodies III", "Refined Reflexes III", "Magic Sense III", "Trained Body II", "Forest Sense II", "Elven Health (Racial)", "Source of Magic", "Magic Boost (Elite)", "Stormborn (Elite)", "Born to Fly (Elite)".

System modifiers:

"Access to System Purchases IV", Issuing System Assignment IV

Tokens:

"Purification 10/10", "Gift a random property 3/5 (elite)"

Companion Modifiers:

"Share the Burden I", "Mark of the Chosen One II", "Magical Restoration III", "Healing of the Subtle Bodies III", "Physical Healing III", "Mental Link I", "Extrapolation of Modifiers II"

* * *

Name: Cyrill

Level: 28

Class: Emerald Wizard

Characteristics: (free) 0; (limited) 0

Talents: (free) 0 (limited): 0

Companion Modification Points (2)

Constitution: 3

Sensitivity: 3

Power: 10

Control: 12

Source: 11

Spirit: 1

Resistance: 3

Acquired Knowledge:

Oral and Written: Classical Elvish, Free Cities, Northern Theocracy; Dwarf Undermountain, Rising Empire (Classic/Simplified).

General knowledge:

“advanced management and control of internal energies”, “skills of working with powerfull external energy sources”, “developedmasterful skills of creating magical barriers”, “advanced skills of creating magical weaves”, “advanced basics of techniques of magical dueling with battle wands”, “developed tantric techniques of energy recovery”, “advanced creation and application of ritual circles”, “advanced tactics of magical combat”, “advanced basics of working with advanced amulets and artifacts”, “advanced methods of magical search”, “advanced general weaving of elemental magic”, “advanced methods of magical disguise”, “basic skills of working under water”

Core/root knowledge:

Advanced Mastery of the School of Illusion:

Creation and maintenance of point, small, medium, and large territorial illusions.

Creation and maintenance of static, dynamic, and adaptive illusions of all types.

Creation and maintenance of illusory doubles/clones/copies.

Creation and maintenance of hypnotic illusions of a wide range.

Creation and maintenance of complex illusions of a wide profile.

Thickening and saturation of created illusions.

Minor Knowledge:

"Protective Field (Elite)"

Acquired properties:

‘Blessing of Harmonious Magical Development’, “Strengthening of Subtle Bodies II”, “Regeneration of Subtle Bodies II”, “Magic in Blood (Elite)”, “Enhanced Magic”(Power 10), “Source of Magic”(Source 10); "Mimicry of subtle bodies (elite)": "Filtering Aura (Elite)", "Adaptive Invisibility (Elite)", "Charming Eyes (Elite)", "Micro Control" (Control 10)

System modifiers:

‘System Assignment IV’, ‘Intensive Development III’, ‘Access to System Purchases V’; "Orientation in space III"

Tokens:

Companion Enhancement 7/10, Awesome Melons 80/100, "French Kiss 25/25", "Temporary Magic Source (Granting Lust and Passion) 2/5", "Role Change Guarantee 1/1", ++"Splash of Life 3/3"

Naughty Tongue:

Li Yan 98/100

Gyar'Skalashass 100/100

Special:

Chosen by Aurial the Magnificent, Supreme Keeper of the Balance of Worlds, Standing Guard of the Balance of Powers: hidden effects.

Active Ability: "Share the Burden of the Chosen One II"

Available number of activations: 1 (recharge 1 standard month).

Available number of companions: 2/3

* * *

Name: Armina, daughter of Darat.

Level: 17

Connection level with the Chosen One: 3 (strong)

Type of connection with the Chosen One: Maid-Guardian/Master.

Class: Guardian

Characteristics: 0

Talents: 3

Constitution: 10

Sensitivity: 4

Power: 1

Control: 2

Source: 1

Spirit: 1

Resistance: 4

Acquired Knowledge:

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

General knowledge:

"Advanced skills in handling throwing weapons (needles)", "advanced skills in handling short bladed weapons (knives/daggers/stilettos), "advanced close combat skills", "advanced skills in broad-based intelligence work", "advanced bodyguard skills", "advanced skills in handling amulets and artifacts", "developed skills in providing medical assistance"

Minor Knowledge:

‘Enhanced Strike III’,

Acquired properties:

"Trained Body I", "Vigilance II", "Toughness II", "Natural Regeneration II", "Physical Enhancement (10 Constitution)", "Accuracy II"

System modifiers:

System Assignment II, Access to System Purchases II, Goal Tracking II

Companion Modifiers:

"Magic Restoration II"

Hidden:

Properties:

Charming Voice (elite), Sensitivity to Magic (elite)

Knowledge:

Advanced techniques and methods of seduction and manipulation, advanced acupuncture skills

Tokens:

Request for a little help 25/25

* * *
Author's Note:

Phew... That was tough. That was long. 93 pages of Fikbook. But Brinar did it and is happy! There will be a sequel, but I'm still thinking about the title.

As always, I wish my readers all the best and express my sincere gratitude for their comments, questions, feedback, and corrections.

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/588707

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP