Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Глава вторая. Кирилл. Новая наставница и начало новых тренировок Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter Two. Cyrill. New Mentor and the Beginning of New Training for the Hero of the Elven Queen

* * *

A protected grove somewhere in the Forest...

Silence hung in the living room. Quite a tense silence. For a few seconds, Cyril looked at the unexpected and uninvited guest in complete confusion and bewilderment, then he suddenly came to his senses and performed a series of simultaneous manipulations with his subtle bodies. He maximally compacted and strengthened the protective layers of his aura, separately made the outer layer as sensitive as possible, closed, strengthened, and accelerated the circulation of reserves through the energy channels in order to “burn off” any possible impurities of foreign energy, as well as to be able to instantly form protective or attacking weaves. At the same time, his actions should not have been visible thanks to the elite “Mimicry of Subtle Bodies.” Cyril also switched to magical vision, assessing both the guest and the mentor, but saw nothing suspicious. Moreover, by the standards of sorceresses of their level, both elves were extremely open, hardly hiding their subtle bodies at all. Alatrel did not even have any amulets, except, it seemed, for a communication device.

She held the young man's intense gaze with complete calm, continuing to smile slightly and look back at him. Cyril glanced quickly at Diantrel, who was also completely calm and unperturbed, but before he could ask his mentor anything through their mental connection, Alatrel carefully placed the mug with her drink on the table in front of her and smoothly rose to her feet, nodding once more in greeting:

"I am truly glad to meet you, Ciriall, finally. I have been told so many amazing things about you."

After casting another quick questioning glance at Diantrel, who continued to sit calmly in her chair and drink her beverage, and receiving a brief nod in response, Cyril turned to the unexpected guest and said, continuing to watch her closely:

"Actually, we already know each other, honorable."

The smile on Alatrel's face grew a little wider, and she slowly shook her head.

"Not at all. I was not acquainted with you before this day, just as you were not acquainted with me."

"Is that so?" Cyrill looked meaningfully at the guest first, then back at Diantrel. "I seem to remember that we have met before. I can say that I will remember our meeting and its results for the rest of my life."

To his surprise, the smile on Alatrel's face became even wider and more charming. Turning to Diantrell, who continued to sit in her chair and calmly drink her slightly steaming beverage, she asked her:

"As I understand it, you haven’t yet touched on legal issues related to magic and its use?"

Taking another sip, Diantrel shook her head and replied:

"No, the main emphasis was on practical classes, taking into account... the specifics of the training."

"I see..."

But Cyrill, who kept glancing between his mentor and the guest, didn't understand what they were talking about or what was going on. But before he could ask his questions, Alatrell turned to him again and said with the same charming smile:

"Allow me, then, to explain in the simplest and most understandable terms what I meant when I said that this was our first meeting, Cirial. According to the laws of the Forest, someone who is completely controlled by magic is not considered to be themselves at that moment and is not responsible for their actions."

"Provided that they had no way of avoiding falling under someone else's control," added Diantrel, taking another sip.

“Exactly,” Alatrel nodded to her.

Turning back to Cyrill, she continued:

"During our last meeting, I was already completely under the control of the one known to us all as Master. And, anticipating a possible question, as unpleasant as it is for me to admit, I had virtually no chance of escaping his clutches. The web woven specifically for me was too well crafted. This was fully confirmed by the thorough investigation conducted by the Secret Guard."

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

Continuing to stare at the guest, Cyrill asked briefly:

//Mentor?

She, thanks to the mental connection, perfectly understood the general meaning of his question and answered just as briefly:

//"That's exactly it."

After receiving confirmation from Diantrel, Cyrill calmed down a little, but did not let his guard down. The young man folded his arms across his chest and nodded slowly:

"In that case, honorable Alatrel, let us become acquainted. And may I inquire to what I owe this unexpected visit?"

A charming smile appeared on the guest's face again, and she answered in a polite voice:

The Forest is solely concerned for your safety, Ciriall.

Having finished her drink, Diantrel placed the empty mug on the table and said, pointing to an empty chair:

"Sit down, Ciriall, we have a serious and long conversation ahead of us. Armina, Gata, take care of breakfast for now."

Both maids nodded briefly and withdrew. Cyrill sat down in the chair opposite Alatrel, who had also taken her previous seat and was sipping from her mug. Turning to Diantrell, the young man looked at her questioningly, and she began to explain:

"In a very short time, you, Cirial, have acquired knowledge and gained powers thanks to the Tablets of the Soul that would have taken everyone else decades of hard work to achieve at best. And I am not exaggerating in the slightest. But despite this, as recent events have shown, there are areas where you seriously lack knowledge and skills. I would even say catastrophically lacking, considering who we are up against. And which I cannot teach you properly, as I am simply not a high enough specialist in this particular area of magic. Unlike" Diantrel turned to Alatrell, "my esteemed colleague."

“You’re talking about protecting the mind from Mind Magic,” the young man said slowly, beginning to guess what Diantrel was getting at.

"That's right,“ nodded the young man's mentor. ”I will say without false modesty and without any exaggeration that during our... unplanned journey, you, Cirial, showed yourself from your best side, worthily enduring all the trials that Fate threw at us. It is all the more remarkable that, having successfully survived the Dark Brotherhood's assassination attempt, escaped from Kardarot's vault, and fled from the Terror of Diyarten, you nearly fell victim to the Voice of the Deep. And this even though its words were not even a full-fledged Call."

At the mention of nightmares, an involuntary chill ran down Cyrill's spine, and he had a hard time keeping himself from shuddering.

"I won't say," continued Diantrel, "that if you were more skilled at protecting your mind, you would have been able to completely avoid the consequences, but it is very difficult even for a specialist to resist the power of the Ancient God. But the consequences would have been less severe. And, I repeat, it was not even a full-fledged Call, for which the Lord of the Depths is so sadly famous. Therefore, after carefully studying and evaluating the results of our... journey, the analysts of the Secret Guard came to the conclusion that you need to be brought up to speed in this area. Especially considering the fact that we now know for certain that Master is alive, which means that sooner or later he will make his move."

"And the honorable Alatrel will be teaching me up, right?" Cyrill asked, already guessing where this was going, and looking meaningfully at the uninvited guest.

Diantrel nodded affirmatively:

"Following discussions, her candidacy was deemed the most suitable. Alatrel has extensive experience in such matters, having worked with the Secret Guard for over a century, assisting them in resolving various issues that require a delicate approach. She is well-versed in unlocking the minds and hearts of others and is equally adept at protecting them from such encroachments."

Glancing briefly at Alatrell, who was still smiling charmingly, Diantrell turned to Cirill and looked meaningfully into his eyes:

"I understand perfectly well, Cirial, that first impressions are the strongest, and your first meeting with Alatrell... did not go very well, but I also hope that you understand perfectly well that this is entirely Master's fault. And so I ask you not to be prejudiced against my colleague and to allow her to start your relationship with a clean slate... ."

Suddenly smiling, Alatrel shook her head and said:

"Thank you for your high opinion of my professionalism, Diantrel, but let me speak for myself, and then let Cirial make his own conclusions and decide whether to proceed or not. Especially since they won't stay clean for long. In every sense of the word."

Under Cyril's questioning gaze, who was once again tense inside, Diantrel shrugged and gestured invitingly to her colleague. The charming smile disappeared from Alatrell's face, and the elf became extremely serious. Leaning back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest, she said:

"Considering all the rather unusual circumstances that led to our meeting today, I will allow myself the rare pleasure of being frank with you, Cirial. And to begin with, I will say this. Do I regret the circumstances of our first meeting? Yes, of course, especially now that I know your true nature. Can I say that I would never have treated you the way I did, being caught in the Master's web, not being in it, and not knowing who you really are? Definitely not."

After casting a strange glance at Diantrel, who rolled her eyes for a moment, she continued:

"In the Royal Palace, and more broadly in the Forest, things are far from as simple as they might seem to you. There are disagreements and grudges between the firstborns, some of which are very old. And to bewitch someone's illegitimate offspring, someone with whom you have a long-standing... let's not even call it enmity, but rather rivalry... So, to bewitch someone's illegitimate but clearly beloved offspring, someone with whom you have a long-standing rivalry — why not, if you have the opportunity? Among the Forest's elite, this is almost the norm. Of course, within fairly strict, albeit unspoken, limits."

Pausing to take another sip of her drink, Alatrel continued:

"So if I didn't know who you really were, Cirial, and thought you were the offspring of someone close to me... someone with whom I, or my loved ones, have had a long-standing rivalry... I won't lie, I would have acted exactly as I did when we first met. Except that I would have been much more cautious. Master's web forced me to do some rather... crude and clumsy work, to say the least. The real me would not have left such a monstrous amount of obvious traces of my intervention. And perhaps the real me would have chosen slightly different methods of processing. However, the result would have been similar."

"Would you make me lick something other than your foot?" Cyrill smiled wryly, involuntarily recalling the end of his first meeting with not-Alatrel.

"Only if licking my feet was truly repulsive to you and it would reduce the effectiveness of the treatment," the elf replied without hesitation, her expression remaining serious and businesslike. "Then yes, I would have to consider other options, in terms of body parts. However, again, only if I didn't have enough time for you to reconsider your views and appreciate the beauty and attractiveness of women's feet. But as far as I remember, in your case, there was no categorical rejection, and I only needed to slightly strengthen your attraction to this particular part of the body."

Alatrell said all this calmly and matter-of-factly, without even a hint of eroticism, one might even say in a demonstratively businesslike manner. And for some reason, Cyril immediately believed that for her, what was described above was really just routine. Purely technical work issues. For example, for a driver, such an issue is choosing the optimal route, and for her, it is which part of the body to focus the victim's attraction on. Or rather, not the victim, but simply the object of processing.

For a moment, upon realizing this fact, the young man was tempted to use the token on Alatrell, who was sitting opposite him, so that she would bare her breasts and, perhaps, even let him fondle them. No, he understood perfectly well that the elven seductress was just as much a victim in this case as he was, and that the real culprit was damned Master. But on the other hand, her attitude toward what had happened then... The way she calmly and honestly admitted that under different circumstances, she would not have hesitated to bewitch him in the same way, considering him the illegitimate son of someone with whom she disagreed... All this caused a dull irritation and a strong desire to repay this big-eared madam in kind. Especially since he had the opportunity. But... But...

With the same mind, Cyrill understood that forcing Alatrel to bare her breasts with a token would be downright childish and... to some extent even unsportsmanlike, if we're talking about wanting to repay her in kind? It would be like using a cheat code in an e-sports match. Although the very fact that he had the System was already the ultimate cheat code... Nah, fuck it. And anyway, we're having a serious conversation here, about tits, even if they are elven, we can think about that later. Therefore, despite his deep irritation, Cyril did not touch the token he received from damn Master, and Alatrell continued in the meantime:

"As for my esteemed colleague's high opinion of my abilities, I won't deny that I do have solid experience in influencing minds and emotions, as well as protecting them from outside influences. And I will not hide or deny that I am quite willing to become your mentor in matters of protecting your own mind and heart from outside encroachments. But considering... your peculiarities and the very specific circumstances in which we all now find ourselves to one degree or another due to the threat from Master... I'm afraid that conventional teaching methods will not be entirely suitable for us."

In response to the young man's questioning look, Alatrel explained:

"The standard course of basic protection against mental and emotional influences, which I have taught many times to a wide variety of students, including firstborns and others, takes several years. This is enough time to master protective techniques that allow you to repel or at least curb targeted hostile influences. And, more importantly, to learn to notice the details that indicate the very beginning of this influence in order to nip it in the bud. And also to develop the habit of constantly monitoring the places where this influence can begin, checking and updating your personal protection and the protection of your home. With the latter, by the way, you are doing particularly badly, Cirial."

“In what sense?” The young man suddenly tensed up again.

A charming smile appeared on Alatrel's face again for a moment, and she smoothly waved her hands around the living room:

"In every sense. While Diantrel and I were waiting for you to wake up, I had time to take a look around this wonderful mansion. No normal security, no alarm systems, or checks on visitors. I didn't notice any of that. Not even basic caution and vigilance on your part. You calmly allowed my colleague to send away both of your bodyguards, without even considering that she might be under my control again..."

These words stunned the young man once again, as he realized what kind of trouble he could get into if Alatrell really decided to repeat the scenario of their first meeting. Or not her, but someone worse... But before Cyril could say or do anything, Gata and Armina returned to the living room, carrying trays with cutlery, food, and drinks left over from yesterday. The young girl and the cat-woman placed them on the table in front of the elves and Cyril, then froze behind him. Diantrel, who had been silent until then, picked up a fork and speared a slice of chopped apple with it. Carefully putting it in her mouth, the elf gave her colleague an expressive look and said:

"Let me point out that the lack of any decent protection around and inside this mansion is not an oversight or mistake on Сirial's part. He was moved here only the day before, and the building was deliberately stripped bare so that he could erect its defenses himself, step by step."

"Very reasonable," Alatrell nodded to her, "but that doesn't excuse the fact that he didn't bother to put up even minimal defenses to protect his sleep."

"Considering that we are deep in the Forest in general and inside one of the Protected Groves in particular, the protection that can be set up in a couple of hours would not play a significant role against someone who could get here after overcoming all other obstacles."

"You can never be too careful, don't we both know that? In any case,“ Alatrell turned her gaze back to Cyrill.” These are all minor details compared to the main issue: a standard course in mind protection would take an unacceptable amount of time, which, as you well understand, we don't have. Therefore, we will have to resort to an accelerated course. I would even say super-accelerated, considering how quickly you learn thanks to your Soul Tablet, Cirial. Minimum theory, maximum practice. And that is precisely what I meant when I said that our relationship would not remain pure for long."

Looking meaningfully straight into Cyrill’s eyes, Alatrel explained:

"It is impossible to learn to swim without ever going into the water. It is impossible to understand what hot means without ever burning yourself. And it is impossible to train yourself to resist mental and love magic without ever feeling its effects on yourself. Which, combined with a severe lack of time, means..."

"During the lessons, you will influence my mind with love and mental magic, and I will have to defend myself," concluded Alatrell Cyrill. "And given my near-zero knowledge in this particular area of magic, I will inevitably miss more than one or two blows before I learn how to properly repel your love spells and mental attacks."

"That too," nodded Alatrell, "but that's not all. The exercises will be very diverse, and those involving direct confrontation are by no means the majority. Specialists from all kinds of Schools of Mind Magic rarely engage in direct combat. Combat mentalism is more of a rare exception to the general rule. For the most part, my colleagues, as well as I, prefer to act slowly, gradually finding the keys to the mind and heart of their target."

"Last time, you did very well without any prior preparation, treating not only me, but also Gata and Armina," Снrill recalled.

To which Alatrel responded with a bitter smile and shook her head:

"As I already told you, it was extremely crude and clumsy work, dictated by the Master's will. But yes, in case of unforeseen circumstances and direct combat, I, like any specialist in Mind Magic of a sufficiently high level, have special techniques. But this is a last resort. Although being able to protect your mind from a direct attack by someone else's will is by no means a superfluous skill, the ability to recognize the signs of gradual hostile influence in time is much more frequently required and, in my personal opinion, much more important. To do this, you need to know where and how to look."

Taking a berry that resembled a blueberry in both color and taste, but was very large, from a small saucer with two fingers, Alatrel put it in her mouth and continued to explain:

"Encountering a group of Mind Eaters, who are among the few renowned for their combat Mind Magic, is much less likely than encountering followers of the gradual method of processing. And to make the work of such an opponent as difficult as possible, one must understand where and how the blow may come from, what one must not allow under any circumstances, and what one must constantly pay attention to. In particular," Alatrell once again looked very meaningfully into Cyril's eyes, "it is very useful to get into the habit of always checking all food and drinks before putting them in your mouth."

At these words, Cyril froze with a piece of fragrant elven bread generously spread with butter and a slice of cheese at his mouth. For a second, the young man sat motionless, looking into Alatrell's eyes. Then he shifted his gaze to the sandwich in his hand, literally staring at it with magical vision. Only to realize that he had no idea what exactly to look for. The food looked completely normal, with no visible traces of magic. Looking up at Alatrel, he saw the same broad, charming smile on her face:

"Don't worry, Cirial, your food is completely clean now. Although I'll tell you right away, truly high-quality alchemy that affects the mind or heart is practically indistinguishable from ordinary magical vision. You need to look at special spectra, knowing what to look for. But, as a rule, specialized testing amulets or even entire sets of them are used to search for foreign impurities in food. There are also developer compounds, but they are more expensive to use. However..."

Taking another berry, Alatrel popped it into her mouth.

"... today I decided not to give you any examples of what excessive carelessness can lead to. In case you prefer another mentor, given... the unfortunate circumstances of our first meeting."

"So, I have a choice?" Cyrill asked, looking at Diantrel.

The mentor nodded affirmatively:

"Of course. Alatrell is an outstanding specialist in her field, but she is by no means the only one in the Forest. However, unlike many of her colleagues, she is also an excellent mentor in her field of magic."

Both elves fell silent, waiting for Cyril to speak. He remained silent for a while, gathering his thoughts, of which there were many, then turned back to Alatrell and spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully:

"Well... First of all, let me thank you for your honesty and candor, honorable Alatrel, and respond in kind. I will be just as direct and honest: I have absolutely no desire to allow you, or anyone else, to bewitch me again, only to come to my senses kneeling and kissing your feet..."

"Are you uncomfortable with the very fact that someone else is influencing your mind? Or are you uncomfortable with this particular outcome? Because there are different options," the elf interrupted Cyrill unexpectedly.

At the same time, she looked at the young man with a completely serious expression and asked the question in an exclusively businesslike tone, without the slightest hint of amusement or any sarcasm. Cyrill hesitated for a couple of seconds, not knowing how to respond. Then he almost blurted out “everything” automatically, but caught himself at the last moment. The young man's mind involuntarily returned to the end of their previous meeting with Alatrel, sitting in a chair with her slender bare legs crossed. Legs that, on his native Earth, would have been used without question to advertise all kinds of tights, stockings, shoes, sandals — in fact, any product that is in some way connected with these two parts of the female body. Very, let's be honest with ourselves, very seductive parts. And the idea of touching them with a hand or even a face did not cause any repulsion — nothing but palpable excitement...

Glancing at his mentor, who was waiting calmly for his response to her colleague, Cyrill couldn't help but imagine her in a swimsuit, walking barefoot along Azure Bay beach with her slender legs, which were just as beautiful as Alatrell's. Except perhaps with slightly more pronounced muscles. Her army training was showing. In any case, this image was also very seductive, and he immediately wanted to be back on that beach and help his mentor apply some sunscreen. And Diantrel would also look simply gorgeous in stockings or tights. Fortunately, Cyril's fantasies did not lead to any shameful manifestations in the groin area. Thanks to her still-toned and tightly controlled slender body. And, as he hoped, his thoughts were not too obvious on his face, so he pulled himself together, coughed, and answered completely honestly and directly, since they were having such a frank and purely “business” conversation:

"Firstly, I have nothing categorically against that particular ending, as you called it. But letting someone into my head..."

Slowly exhaling, Cyrill literally said through clenched teeth:

"I really don't want that. Once was enough, you know, and as a result, I spent several decades captive to that damn Master in a coma. But..."

Looking at Alatrel, who was listening to him attentively, straight in the eyes, Cyrill continued:

"I want even less to find myself in his power again. Or in the power of someone worse, although I don't even know if such creatures exist in this world. And I completely agree with what you said: it is impossible to learn to swim without ever going into the water. Therefore... therefore, I agree to become your student, honourable Alatrell."

Bowing her head slightly, the elf smiled at him with her charming smile that had reappeared on her face:

"I am glad to hear it, Ciriall, and for my part, I promise that I will do everything possible to justify the high trust placed in me."

"Of course, you understand, Cyrial, that training with Alatrell in no way cancels out your other training sessions," added Diantrel with a strange smile on her face. "Now that Armina and Gata also possess the Tablets, they will train with you so that you can work as a team and so that they can each advance at least a few levels."

For some reason, the tone of her voice and the expression on her face made Cyrill feel uneasy. He didn't sense any specific emotions or thoughts from Diantrel through the system connection, but for some reason, the young man's intuition was seriously disturbed...

* * *

Underworld, Wild Territories somewhere beneath the Forest...

Slowly and deeply inhaling through her face mask, Zairal closed her eyes, listening intently to the sounds of the Underworld surrounding her, searching for the ones she needed. This was not easy, even with her keen elven hearing and the trained ear of an experienced hunter. This was because the underground hall in which she now found herself, hidden at the top of a high cliff protruding from the side wall, was quite large by the standards of her homeland and quite densely populated. True, its main inhabitant was a huge colony of mushrooms, located approximately in the centre of the hall, right on a wild source of magical energy, whose power was above average. Again, by the standards of the Underworld. But as for cleanliness... Cleanliness left much to be desired, which is why the once relatively ordinary colony of mushrooms, which was the food source for many inhabitants of the Underworld, had grown excessively and mutated, turning into a full-fledged predator. Moreover, an active, dangerous predator, and clearly the highest in this particular hall. And it even had some kind of swarm consciousness, which was completely atypical for fungi.

Their colony continuously emitted clouds of spores, which saturated the air in this underground hall, as well as several other halls adjacent to it. When inhaled, these spores, if the victim did not have a sufficiently strong immune system and resistance, in small quantities intoxicated and intoxicated the mind, causing a feeling of euphoria and pleasure. And also the desire to find the source of these feelings, that is, the mushroom colony. So, without even realizing it, the person who inhaled them would come straight to the colony, inhaling more and more spores and falling under their influence more and more. Ultimately, the victim of the mushroom colony became its helpless slave when the spores completely took over the brain. They were either killed immediately, becoming a nutrient base for new mushrooms, or used to care for the colony and protect it from possible enemies.

From the top of the cliff, where Zairal had set up her bed and observation post, she could clearly see a dozen underground goblins and a couple of dark dwarves moving sluggishly between huge mushrooms, either watering them or fertilising them. She also saw several dangerous underground predators lying motionless around the perimeter of the mushroom bed. All of them had traces of parasitic mushrooms growing inside their bodies, gradually killing them. Ultimately, even the most useful of the mushroom colony's slaves would end up as its food. A very sad fate, but far from the worst in the Underworld, which, as is well known, does not tolerate mistakes or weakness.

The only thing that prevented this fungus from taking over the entire underground hall and spreading to neighboring ones was its developed dependence on a specific magical source, which caused the mutation. It is a dangerous place, even by the standards of the Underworld. Unless, of course, you know how to protect yourself from the effects of spores.

Zairal knew this, having encountered something similar more than once or twice during her long life as a Hunter. There were plenty of mushrooms, including ones similar to these, in the Underworld. A special filter mask, a small amulet that created a protective barrier practically close to her body, which did not allow spores to pass through, and a special mixture prepared right there using these very spores and mushrooms, with which she treated her clothes. So neither the local mushrooms, nor their intoxicated servants, nor the clouds of spores bothered her. But the reason she was here did. And at the very thought of that reason, she had to use willpower and direct control of her body to calm herself down and not let her heart beat faster than necessary.

Arrogant. Insolent. Cheeky. Dishonest. Bastard. Zairal could think of many more epithets to describe the First Hunter of the Rean na Kharan. Most of them were extremely unflattering, but the former Senior Catcher could not help but admit that he had the skills of an Underworld Hunter, as well as the standard dark elf cunning. He cleverly tricked her with the Last One, so that he, the Trial, could say nothing, cleverly. He took advantage of her weakness when they first met, playing on the fact that she had not yet fully recovered from... Never mind! She will get even with the Silk Spider, just give her time, she has eternity ahead of her! But first, she will deal with this upstart! He thinks he fooled her?! We'll see about that!

Officially and openly, challenges were rarely issued in the City. Among Hunters and Catchers, such behavior was considered almost bad form, indicative of either a lack of intelligence or an excess of self-confidence. Both, as a rule, led either to death or to a fatal loss of status, and it was unclear which was worse. Much more often, the struggle for this highly honorable title was fought invisibly and silently. This is how true Hunters and Catchers of the Underworld should act! But in her case, an official challenge was more than acceptable, and she issued it. Right there, in the bathhouse, in front of his arrogant whore, who thinks of herself, ha ha, just think, as his wife. And he calmly accepted it and even generously allowed her to choose the form in which their duel would take place. What a self-confident bastard! Never mind, it will be all the more pleasant to wipe that smug grin off his face by sitting on it...

Biting her lip, Zairal slowly exhaled, once again forcing herself to calm down with an effort of will. She must think not of revenge, but of how to win! She rejected the most banal and repulsive one-on-one duel. Such fights were the lot of warriors, not Hunters and Catchers. She also rejected the option in which the contenders compete to see who will be the first to achieve a common goal, which in such cases is often the life of someone who has distinguished themselves so much that the entire Council of Mothers of the city has turned against them. No, she chose the option that was most suitable in her case: mutual hunting.

In this case, several underground halls are selected, always in the Wild Territories, necessarily adjacent or connected to each other through one. And in these halls, the rivals begin to hunt each other, carrying only their weapons and the equipment they decided to take and were able to carry with them. No pre-prepared hiding places or caches. No outside help. One-on-one, until one of the opponents wins or his opponent leaves the boundaries of the agreed-upon underground chambers, thus acknowledging his defeat.

It is not difficult to guess, looking at these rules, that no dark firstborn would agree in their right mind to such a duel without involving the priests of Damokar, and necessarily at least one elder, or better yet, two. Ideally, a full-fledged Herald of the Guardian of Oaths is needed. And it would be nice to duplicate the divine oaths with magical oaths, reinforced with blood. Otherwise, there are too many bottlenecks that are just begging to be exploited to achieve victory. Because of this, the Lady in Darkness usually finds it much easier to resolve the question of “Who is First in the City?” in a more usual way.

In their case, the divine messengers did not arrive, and they had to make do with a couple of senior priests and one paladin of Damokar, summoned from the temple in White Harbour. Magical oaths and blood oaths had to be abandoned, as Zairal herself was not a great expert in this field of magic, and she trusted her light-coloured kin no more than her dark-coloured kin in this matter, considering that they served her rival. The servants of the Keeper of Oaths were another matter; she did not trust them completely either, but at least they offered some guarantees. Without asking unnecessary questions, they confirmed their mutual agreement to the terms of the upcoming joint hunt at their altar. The terms were very detailed and even meticulously negotiated. Having been burned by the loophole with the Final Trial, Zairal approached this matter with the utmost seriousness. And she was all the more annoyed by the demonstrative calmness of her rival, who easily and casually confirmed his agreement to follow all the agreed-upon rules of mutual hunting.

This made Zairal suspect another dirty trick or ploy that he was going to use to achieve victory. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out what trick or ploy this upstart had in mind. Because the conditions they had both agreed to, taking the oath certified by Damokar, were more than strict and left no room for double interpretations.

Only the two of them can participate in the hunt. Any intentional outside interference is unacceptable. Unintentional interference, such as when someone who is unaware of the hunt accidentally finds themselves in the designated hunting grounds, is permitted, provided that the hunters do not clearly identify themselves as outsiders. In other words, it is permissible to secretly lead someone from an enemy city or even land dwellers to the position of your opponent by leaving them the necessary signs or traces so that they scare him away. It is not permissible to approach them openly or leave them a note with detailed instructions and the promise of a reward.

Hunting takes place only in designated underground halls in the Wild Territories, where none of the competitors have any pre-prepared traps, shelters, beds, supplies, or other items that would give them an advantage in the hunt. Both competitors enter the designated hunting area at the same time, from opposite sides, and then move around as they wish.

None of the hunters should have any pre-prepared advantages over their opponents, such as tracking beacons, personalized spells, individually selected compositions, and so on. The weapons and equipment that could be taken along, and this was a separate point that Zairal particularly emphasized, must be standard by the standards of the Hunters and Huntresses of the Underworld. That is, of excellent elven quality, but not higher than the agreed level. The last thing she needed was for that bastard to show up for the hunt with a set of artifacts made by the Magnificent herself!

The hunting time is not limited, only its participants and territory. Inside it, free movement is allowed. Going beyond its limits means immediate defeat. It seems that everything possible has been taken into account. So why, why does she have the feeling that she has missed some kind of meanness on the part of this insolent brat? Damn him! Could he have prepared something that would allow him to deceive the chains of the Guardian of Oaths? Such a thing is extremely difficult, but with sufficient resources, it is still possible... No, it would cost him too much... Or maybe... Damn him!

Biting her lip, Zairal forced herself to breathe more slowly, listening carefully to the sounds around her and scanning the surrounding space with her keen elven eyes, occasionally switching to magical vision of different spectra. Nothing suspicious, just underground beasts intoxicated by mushrooms and goblins with a couple of gnomes, whose brains were already completely taken over by spores, scurrying around in the center of the hall. Four passages led to this hall. But she was only interested in one. The one she came from was out of the question — it led to one of the outer underground halls that were part of the hunting grounds, and could only be accessed from there. The second passage was not only closest to the heart of the mushroom bed, but also most of the underground air currents flowing through this hall went into it, carrying clouds of intoxicating spores. Understandably, the mushroom bed grew the most mushrooms on this side to more effectively infect the underground beasts in other halls. It is practically impossible to pass through there unnoticed. There were too many mushrooms of all sizes, from tiny ones to giants over two meters tall. If you touched even one of them, the mushroom colony would immediately release a lethal dose of spores, not only intoxicating ones, but also those that eat away at flesh to the bone, or are simply deadly poisonous.

The third passage leads to an underground hall that is not part of the hunting grounds. This means that there is only one passage left, adjacent to it, through which this reptile can come. And it is precisely this passage that needs to be monitored, which is what Zairal was doing, having set up an excellent observation point for herself using all the knowledge of the Hunters, carefully camouflaging it and scattering all approaches to it with various types of signal traps. She also set up a couple of false beds, surrounding them with traps and alarms, but slightly more noticeable ones. And, of course, the passage itself. She blocked it particularly carefully, covering all paths in three layers. The first was needed to make it noticeable. The second was to make it noticeable when, after opening the first, he began to look for real traps and alarms. The third was the most carefully placed and hidden, and it was into this one that the little bastard had to fall.

So now she had to do one of the most routine things in the life of a Hunter or Catcher: wait in ambush. She had enough supplies and was well-versed in meditative techniques allowed her to remain almost completely motionless for days on end and conserve her resources. She was also skilled at hiding her subtle body. Let's see how long her opponent can hold out...

* * *

A protected grove somewhere in the Forest...

Cyril's instincts, which had sounded the alarm, turned out to be completely right. But the young man did not immediately realize how serious the situation was. On the first day, when he agreed to study with Alatrell, nothing foreshadowed trouble. Having received his consent and promising to do her best not to embarrass herself, she announced that their studies would begin with what every one of her students' training began with... Signing a contract. A real contract, written in accordance with all legal norms, with numerous clauses stipulating the conditions and prescribing the limits of what is permissible within the framework of the training.

As Diantrel explained to Cyrill, who was a little stunned and secretly expecting his brain to be assaulted at any moment, signing such agreements was a mandatory procedure for anyone who voluntarily decided to seek training from a specialist at a particular School of Mind Magic, providing certain guarantees to both parties. First and foremost, of course, for the student, but there were also provisions for the teacher. For example, a waiver of claims for “...physical consequences of the effects of love magic and/or alchemy as part of the process of learning to protect one's mind from it...”

After Cyril carefully studied the pre-prepared contract, which differed only slightly from the standard version, and was about to sign it, Alatrell stopped him with a charming smile. And before the eyes of the bewildered young man, she touched the contract with the tip of her graceful finger. At that moment, a wave of light passed over it, and another paragraph, previously hidden, appeared between the two existing ones. Or rather, not even a paragraph, but just a single sentence.

++“Always check what you sign for hidden clauses, Сirial.”

Cyril was taken aback by this oversight for a moment, then mentally kicked himself. With a grim face, he took the contract in his hands and examined it with his magical vision for ten minutes, switching between different spectra, and then even illuminated it several times, ultimately discovering four more similar clauses hidden in various ways. As a result of his research, Diantrel gave him a stingy smile, saying that for the first time he had done well, finding as many as half of the “bookmarks,” which again took Cyril aback.

But his mentor calmed him down somewhat, explaining that signing a regular piece of paper like this without checking it or with insufficient verification was not so scary. It's still not good, but it's far from as bad as signing a specially crafted enchanted contract, which is essentially a full-fledged spell embedded in a material base, waiting only to be activated. And that activation could very well be a signature. In that case, the consequences could be much more serious.

Therefore, Diantrel spent the rest of the day with Alatrell explaining to Cyril in detail the basic principles and subtleties of forming weaves-oaths. And let's be honest, without his already solid foundation of knowledge in the field of magic, Cyril would have been very unlikely to understand anything at all, even with such good teachers. This is because the principles of creating weaves-oaths were much more complex than those of ordinary spells, such as the magical arrows he loved so much.

At its core, the principle behind all magical oaths was similar: it was necessary to literally embed a weave into one's subtle body that would react in a certain way when a specific action was performed or not performed, depending on the conditions of the specific oath. And that was the easiest part. Because it is not difficult to embed an analogue of a bomb or a capsule with poison into one's own or someone else's subtle bodies, provided there is no resistance. It is much more difficult to tie its activation to a specific action or inaction. In other words, the weave-oath must not only be embedded in the subtle bodies but also directly linked to the thoughts or, more broadly, directly to the mind of the person taking the oath.

This effectively made such weavings another variety of Mind Magic, at least all of their more complex variants. By lunchtime, Cyril's hair was standing on end from the realization of how many nuances, subtleties, details, and pitfalls had to be taken into account when creating weaves for magical oaths to avoid the possibility of double interpretation, endless delay, or non-fulfillment. For a considerable number of methods and ways to circumvent, deceive, delay, or transfer the effect of a broken oath to a false target have been devised in this world. The eternal competition between sword and shield, projectile and armor, and so on.

And most importantly, it is not enough to simply take all these points into account; one must also be able to directly form a weave that will correctly take them into account, and then actually weave it into the subtle bodies of those who take the oath. During a short lunch break, Diantrel confirmed Cyril's guess that the patented masters of magic, specializing in this field of magic, are very expensive and highly sought-after specialists. She can count the number of magisters in this particular field of magic on her fingers. This was largely due to the fact that they had to be specialists both in the field of magic, to create the weaving itself, and in the field of law, to take into account all the nuances. It was no coincidence that the services of one of the local celestials, whose specialization was precisely in the conclusion and execution of all kinds of oaths and contracts, were so popular throughout the Ecumene. However, as Cyril's mentor emphasized separately, in his case, it is not worth using the services of the Keeper of Oaths. After all, when you make a deal at his altar, you automatically give the celestial being access to yourself and your mind, albeit partial, within the framework of the oath. For Cyril, this threatens to reveal him as a guest from another world.

Therefore, after finishing his lunch, the young man continued to delve into the intricacies of Beriaidon's magical jurisprudence. And at the same time, he became imbued with a pure, completely unclouded, sincere... hatred for it. Cyril never wanted to be a lawyer; even on Earth, he was wildly irritated by the special bureaucratic language in which all laws were written and which he had encountered several times. It seemed to have been created specifically so that the uninitiated would lose the essence of what was being said by the second line. As it turned out, Beriaadon had a lot in common with the young man's homeland in this regard. At one point, he even cautiously hinted that he was ready to take Alatrell's word for it, since Diantrel vouched for her. To which he received a categorical refusal. Both elves declared in unison that this issue was not up for discussion. First, he needed to grasp at least the basics of magic in this area. Second, for Alatrell, the conclusion of this agreement was even more important than for Cyril. So that, as she said, no one could later accuse her of using her position to influence the young man for personal gain. At the same time, she cast a strange glance at Diantrel, who, however, completely ignored it.

So Cyril had to grit his teeth, clench his hair, and listen to both elves sharing their wisdom of magical jurisprudence with him. The result of the young man's torment was that by evening, when the sun had disappeared behind the treetops surrounding his new mansion, physically and morally exhausted, with partial support from Diantrel, he still managed to form a very complex weave-oath so that it fully and completely reflected the letter of his agreement with Alatrell. After his mentor checked it twice and made sure there were no inaccuracies, she gave her approval for its use. Taking a deep breath, Cyril carefully poured almost three-quarters of his reserve into it.

After that, sitting opposite Alatrell, he gently took her hand, and they opened themselves to each other, forming the partial fusion necessary to accept the weaving oath. Closing his eyes, Kirill allowed the part of the oath that concerned him, as a student, to merge into his subtle bodies. The sensations were... unusual, to say the least, but not unpleasant. Provided the terms of the agreement were not violated, of course. Cyril was also sure that at the moment of merging and accepting the oath, he felt not one or two similar oath-weaves that were already woven into Alatrell's subtle bodies.

The young man was rewarded with charming smiles from both elves, their joint praise, and, even more pleasantly, not just “Fundamentals,” but immediately “Advanced Basics of Creating and Concluding Magical Oaths and Contracts.” Most likely, both his existing knowledge and the very high qualifications of both of Cyril's now official mentors played a role. True, they gave him practically no experience, literally pennies. But in any case, new knowledge was very pleasant! But before the young man had time to rejoice, the elves, still smiling, unexpectedly handed him a small sealed scroll. As it turned out, it was his task for the next day: a list of standard methods for protecting a dwelling from intruders, which Cyril was to implement on his own tomorrow. Yes, on his own, Diantrel and especially Alatrell would not be involved in this, except for one point. His mentor promised to explain how to deal with the portal arch during a separate lesson.

Otherwise, Cyril would have to build the defenses for his new home himself. They would only evaluate the results of his work and give advice and hints if necessary. With that, they said goodbye to him and left his mansion. Alatrell asked permission to use the portal, but Diantrell, having seen her colleague off, preferred to fly home, as Cyril himself did not yet know how to use it properly, just like yesterday. The young man had dinner with Gata and Armina, eating the leftovers, and despite being thoroughly exhausted from the day in every sense, instead of going to bed, he set to work. After all, Alatrell's more than transparent hint about his carelessness did not go unnoticed.

But damn it, over time, he had somehow gotten used to the fact that his safety was being ensured by, wait a minute, the local elven KGB. Or was it the CIA? It didn't matter; the main thing was that the elves were protecting him in a way that he himself would never have been able to do at his current level. How could he not relax? So, with a sad sigh, the young man headed down to the first floor with his two female servants, where he began to form a woven barrier to block the front doors. He managed to do this with ease; after all, “advanced skills in creating magical barriers” are no joke. But after finishing the first layer of protection for the front door and getting ready to start on the second layer, Cyril quickly realized something that was not obvious, but nonetheless unpleasant.

An awesome three-story mansion is not only a mega-cool and prestigious property. It also has a lot of windows, several service and side entrances for the staff, as well as walls that would be nice to cover up. After assessing the scale of the work ahead, the young man became discouraged and realized that there was no point in starting it now. He simply didn't have the strength. He didn't want to waste modifiers to restore his energy, and there was no point in doing so. It wasn't even certain that he would be able to finish it in one day... Hmm...

Therefore, heeding the advice of Armina and Gata, Cyril limited himself to blocking the windows and doors of the first and second floors with simple signal threads-webs, which required much less effort than full-fledged barriers. He used the last of his strength to cover his quarters, after which, exhausted to the limit, he collapsed into bed in the arms of his companions. He had no energy left for bedtime fun; he just wanted to sleep...

* * *

Royal Palace of the Forest. Secret Guard Corps.

Looking around questioningly, Diantrel asked her mentor briefly:

"Are you ready?"

Mirael, frozen opposite Cyrill’s mentor, nodded affirmatively in response:

"Yes."

Exhaling quietly, Diantrel mentally turned to the lines of the Tablet of Souls. A mental command. Confirmation. And the third of the five charges of the token burned out, bestowing a gift upon Mirael. Outwardly, this did not manifest itself in any way, and silence hung in the conference room, where the entire leadership of the Forest was involved in working with the Guest regularly gathered. Everyone shifted their gaze from Mirael to Diantrel, waiting for them to speak. And both elves, teacher and student, froze, staring at the lines invisible to outsiders. This lasted only a few seconds, and then the Senior Sorceress let out a heavy sigh, in which there were barely perceptible but distinct notes of disappointment. Frowning, Sybil looked questioningly at Diantrel, who continued to stare at the invisible lines with an unreadable expression on her face:

"Not the most appropriate gift? Or is its taste too bitter?"

Turning to Sivila, the startled Diantrel shook her head:

"No, honorable, the thing is... It's not quite such a gift that..."

"The Gift of the Tablet did not enhance my magical abilities in any way, Mirael said in a strange voice, turning to Sivila and the others."

"What did it give you?" the queen frowned even more.

//“It doubled the number of children given to the firstborn,” the Elder Enchantress smiled strangely, “and made it easier to conceive and bear them.”

“That’s how it is... Unexpected,” was all Sivila could say, assessing what she had heard.

And it wasn't just the queen who was surprised. Compared to what the Tablet had previously given to Diantrel and the Guest... No, this gift was comparable to theirs in terms of its level, if not higher. She knows very well how difficult it is for the women of her people to have more than five children. And now Mirael's limit had been doubled... What's more, conception and pregnancy had been made easier, the latter being particularly relevant for her as a strong and gifted woman. Turi herself would have been happy with such a gift, considering her three half-breed children. But for Mirael... She sees the First Tree, and Sivila is sure that the Elder Enchantress would agree with her: right now, the Forest needs a gift like the one Diantrel received, that of being ‘born of the storm.’

But they have no way to influence the gifts of the Tablet, and there is no point in grieving over an unsuitable gift. So Sivila turned to Mirael and said:

"Shall we proceed to the second stage?"

The Elder Enchantress sighed strangely and nodded, sitting down at the table and picking up an enchanted quill and a sheet of paper. After a couple of minutes, she filled it with a few neat lines, compiling a short list. Taking another sheet she had filled out earlier, she compared the two versions for a few minutes, then shook her head and handed the lists to Sivila and the others present. The Queen, along with them, leaned over the table and studied them closely, point by point, but found no differences except for minor stylistic deviations. Both lists, containing rather personal information, specifically the Elder Enchantress's bedroom preferences, were absolutely identical. No matter how hard she tried, Sybil could not see any differences. Turning to Diantrel, who was standing apart from everyone else, the queen asked:

"So, what else did the Tablet gift her with?"

Mirael also turned to her student, looking at her questioningly. For a moment, she glanced again at the lines of the Tablet of Soul, visible only to her, describing the gift received by her mentor:

“Fertile Womb (Elite)” - allows a firstborn woman to conceive, carry, and give birth to up to ten children. Significantly facilitates conception and gestation. Significantly reduces the negative effects of gestation on the magical abilities of the gifted mother.

Additionally (hidden, visible only to the giver):

“Forbidden Seed” - the idea of engaging in unprotected love with members of other races, which can lead to pregnancy, becomes as natural, exciting, and attractive as possible.

Well, at least that gift is clear. After announcing the bonus received by her mentor, Diantrel looked meaningfully at those around her, then directly at Mirael, who frowned in confusion. Grabbing both lists, she compared them, literally dropped her jaw, and whispered with wide eyes:

"How... How is that... I... I wrote it down in the second list, but it's not in the first one! And... and... seeing the First Tree, I am ready to swear by it that this indecency, for as long as I can remember, has always seemed to me very... attractive and tempting, even if shameful in the eyes of those around me..."

"I can assure you, honorable, that this is not the case," Diantrel shook her head gloomily, casting a meaningful glance at everyone else sitting at the table.

One of them, who was an expert in Mind Magic, scratched his chin thoughtfully, looked closely at both lists handed to him by Mirael, and said:

"It's an amazing feeling... Or rather, the complete absence of any feeling... I could also swear that I compared both lists almost word for word, but nevertheless failed to notice that they differed by an entire point, and such a noticeable one at that. And there were no traces of the usual averting of the eyes, normalization, unawareness, or other such tricks..."

" Just like in the case of the gift of the Tablets, which allowed the 'Guest' to ask any woman to bare her breasts for him," Diantrel nodded grimly. "I was also completely unaware of my actions, and the direct effect of his gift could not be recorded in any way."

Turning to her mentor, who continued to stare at the two lists she had written herself with a slightly pale face, she asked delicately:

"I don't think you'll dispute the need for correction..."

"Of course," nodded the Elder Enchantress grimly. "But seeing the First Tree... even now, when you have pointed out its foreignness to me, the idea of risking the possibility of bearing a child from a father who is not the firstborn... is repulsively appealing."

“I have no doubt,” Diantrel nodded just as sullenly.

As for herself, Cyril's mentor once again spoke ill of the poisonous spice of the Tablets' gifts. And unlike the Elder Enchantress, she has no way of knowing what she has been given, not to mention her student, who is a complete mystery...

As if she had overheard Diantrel's thoughts, Sivila looked at her carefully and said:

"Since this issue is over, I propose to discuss the results of today and further classes and training for the Guest..."

* * *

A protected grove somewhere in the Forest...

The new day greeted Cyril with beautiful weather outside the window, bright sunshine, and a blue sky with scattered white clouds. The new day began with joint water procedures with Gata and Armina, which did not turn into outright debauchery only because they had a lot of work to do. Or rather, Cyril had a lot to do, and his two female companions could only help him with advice. So, after freshening up and fortifying himself with the last of the food he had brought with him, Cyril strode decisively to the third, as yet empty, floor of his mansion. There he set about his usual business—preparing the ritual circle. Fortunately, the floor of his future workshop was ideal for this. It was even a little interesting how the builders had managed to merge separate wooden boards into a single whole without any seams or gaps.

Having chosen a spot in the very center of the third floor, Cyril set to work. The process of creating the ritual circle took almost the entire first half of the day, as the young man approached its design with the utmost responsibility. Until a full-fledged source of magic appeared in his mansion, the building's protection would have to be maintained by relying on the ritual circle. Well, or he could buy an alchemical fuel generator like the ones the gnomes used. However, this option was purely theoretical, since he would have to learn how to maintain such a generator separately so that one fine day it wouldn't explode, leaving a smoking crater in place of Cyril's new home. If he had chosen a class like “Artifactor,” then yes, God himself, I mean, the System, would have ordered him to build something like that in the basement.

Once the basic contours of the ritual circle were ready, the young man was faced with another question: what to fill it with? And where to focus the energy received from the ritual circle, and how to distribute it? Of course, he could easily buy everything he needed at the system auction, since he had enough funds after his “five-minute adventure.” But he definitely didn't want to spend system currency on such consumables. At least, not until the “special” lot was updated. Cyril sincerely hoped that this time, there would be something more useful than a relic that sharply reduced the social responsibility of the women around him. So, using his mental connection, he turned to Diantrel.

His mentor, according to the tag and system map, was busy flying over some kind of training ground at that moment. Apparently, she was practicing some kind of aerobatics. But she responded to her student's call immediately. After listening to Cyril, she supported his decision not to spend system currency on consumables, clarified which ones he needed, and, having received the list, promised to deliver everything to Cyril as soon as possible.

The young man also asked his mentor about food, as the provisions they had brought with them from the Royal Palace were almost gone. And spending system money on food... Well, that's like lighting a hundred-dollar bill on fire. Diantrel replied with a slight smile that a week's supply of various food items had already been prepared for him, and she would deliver them along with the consumables for the ritual circle. Along with a set of amulets designed to detect foreign impurities, which she strongly advised Cyril not to neglect.

The hint was more than transparent, so when, just half an hour later, Diantrel delivered several boxes through the portal arch in the basement, enchanted to keep their contents cool and fresh, there was no question of lunch. Cyril carried all the boxes of food into the pantry next to the kitchen using several barrier-stretchers. Another box, noticeably smaller in size but much more securely sealed and enchanted, bearing the seal of the Forest Treasury, he took up to the third floor, where he carefully opened it. Inside were two types of consumables he had ordered. In one part of the box, the larger one, there were separate sealed vessels containing the classic crystalline powder that he had already used in training and which was perfect as a base fuel for the ritual circle. In the second part was a small box, separately sealed and enchanted. Carefully opening it, Cyril discovered a perfectly cut crystal lying on a soft lining that repeated its shape. Absolutely transparent, devoid of any color, and possessing excellent energy capacity. Just what he needed!

Putting the box with the crystal aside, Cyril took out a couple of vessels with powder, carefully opened them, put a special dispenser cap on the first one to regulate the amount of powder poured out, and got down to business. Obviously, he didn't use his hands, but magic instead, since with his current powers and knowledge, making a vessel levitate above the floor along a strictly defined route was a piece of cake.

It took another hour to complete the entire ritual circle, taking into account all the auxiliary nodes, activate it, and focus the magical energy that had begun to develop on the crystal accumulator, placed at the right point of the circle with the help of special retaining weaves. But after that, the rest of the process went much faster and was noticeably more fun! With such excellent support, multiplying Cyril's already considerable reserves, he set about creating protection for his new home, referring to the list given to him by his mentor, or rather, now mentors. Nothing complicated. In fact, pure magical routine. Form the weave. Place it. Power it from the storage crystal. Repeat.

Thus, without much effort or haste, Cyril covered all the windows in the mansion with protective barriers, step by step, floor by floor. Moreover, he immediately decided not to skimp and to make the protection two-layered. One barrier was solid, covering the entire window surface, while the second was in front of it and was segmented, consisting of separate medium-sized barriers that covered most of the center of each window. The barriers were designed to take the brunt of the attack, breaking apart and weakening it, while the second, solid barrier held back the attack, drawing power from the crystal accumulator if necessary.

When the windows were finished, it was time to tackle all the entrance doors, of which there were two pairs in each wing, in addition to the main doors. Cyrill blocked the doors and reinforced them with protective barriers even more carefully than he had done with the windows. He added three layers, adding active trap seals to the barriers, which were supposed to activate when potential enemies approached. After finishing with the doors and making sure that the weaves in them were working without any flaws, Cyril went around his entire mansion, checking that all the other barrier weaves were working normally. Overall, there were no problems, but it turned out that one storage crystal was not enough for such a large building. More precisely, it turned out that powering all the weaves directly from it was not entirely effective. The further the weave was from the storage crystal, the greater the energy loss during transmission.

Not too much, after all, he had a three-story mansion, not a palace like Versailles, but considering the number of windows and barriers, the loss was still not zero. He had to turn to his mentor for advice once again. She understood him immediately and said that he needed to either pull analog wires, only for magical energy, or use a few more small storage crystals as repeaters. The first option was much more troublesome and time-consuming, so Cyril asked his mentor for a set of small storage crystals, which she agreed to provide.

And so as not to waste time waiting for them to be delivered, the young man set about the next stage. He had figured out the approximate outer perimeter of the mansion; now it was time to tackle the interior. As his mentor had already told him, and as he understood perfectly well, the home of any powerful gifted person must have rooms with restricted access. And the more powerful the wizard, the more such rooms there were. Therefore, he began to set up protection for individual rooms, as well as the passages between them. First of all, he paid attention, of course, to his own rooms, located on the second floor of the central wing. As Gata and Armina suggested, ideally, he needed to create an analogue of a “friend or foe” system that would independently track everyone inside the mansion, alert and respond to uninvited guests, and prevent any laundry maids from entering the master's laboratory.

The mentor, who had just arrived through the portal arch to deliver a set of small storage crystals, fully confirmed their words. She even explained to Cyrill in general terms how to create such a system. Assessing the complexity of the necessary weaving, the young man realized with regret that this would be more than a day's work. Well, at least two days, and it would be nice if Diantrel first gave him a theoretical lesson, followed by a practical one. The mentor smiled and promised that they would definitely do that, but a little later. For now, let Cyril finish, as she said, the basics of protecting his new home, as best he could. Since tomorrow he had a joint training session with Armina and Gata at the training ground.

When the young man cautiously asked when the classes with Alatrell would begin, she merely smiled slyly and said that they had already started, then disappeared through the portal, leaving Cyrill briefly perplexed, which almost immediately turned into paranoia. He even stood still for a minute, tensing his thin body again and hurriedly looking around with Gata and Armina. But there was nothing suspicious in the basement. Then it dawned on Cyril, and he gave himself a mental slap on the back. The food and scanning amulets that the mentor had delivered today!

After calming down a little, Cyrill took a set of small crystals and began to embed them into his mansion's security system, which took up almost the rest of the day. But in the end, it turned out very well! All entrances to the building were well covered with protective barriers, which were reliably powered by a ritual circle. After going through all the rooms on the first two floors, Cyril made sure that everything was working perfectly and that energy losses during transmission were minimal. The only thing that needed to be thought about was how to hide the crystal repeaters. Because now he had simply hung them using retaining weaves in the most optimal places on the walls and ceilings of various rooms. Which, frankly speaking, was not the best option from both a practical and aesthetic point of view.

As soon as he had thought this through, several images came through their connection from his mentor, who, according to Cyril's feelings, had spent almost the entire day flying. Magical lamps of several types. Statues or wall reliefs decorated with crystals. Finally, simply disguised niches in the walls. There were many options, but for the time being, he could leave everything as he had already done.

Mentally thanking Diantrel for her advice, Cyril went up to the third floor to make sure that everything was in order with the ritual circle and that he could finish his work on protecting the house for the day. There, the young man discovered another, less obvious problem associated with owning such a luxurious property as he now had. Protecting a traditional five-wall hut and protecting a three-story mansion are two very different things. Providing magical protection for the latter requires much more energy.

While Cyril was blocking the entrances and exits with barriers and powering them from the ritual circle, almost a third of his powder base burned out. And he hadn't even erected all of the defenses yet. Ideally, he would also need to create a separate dome barrier that would cover the entire mansion and serve as the first line of defense. He would also need to create a magical analogue of a “smart home” through which he could control all the protective weaves. And he would still need to make the offensive weaves... \\“Holy shit,” was all Cyril could think, calculating how much energy would be required to provide such a large number of weaves.

It's no surprise that all serious gifted individuals prefer to settle exclusively around sources of magic. Because without them, building powerful magical protection permanently... is quite a challenge, to say the least. You can't achieve much with your reserves alone... Hmm... After thinking hard, Cyril turned to the system Auction. Fortunately, the fifth level of meta-skill significantly expanded his range. And the category of goods he needed was available there in abundance. But the prices... The prices were steep, to say the least.

Even with the earnings from his unplanned adventure, he didn't have enough system currency for the top-of-the-line items. But that's understandable, since the Great Source of Magic created a source of magic of such power and purity in the chosen location that a new city could be built around it right away. Or at least a radical black magic tower. Or not black, but ivory. Or better yet, emerald, given his chosen specialisation.

More modest options, such as the ‘Mighty Source of Magic,’ which would have covered the needs of his mansion with plenty to spare, were cheaper, but not by much. After evaluating the available options, Cyrill realised that he had just enough money for one of them, but after that, he would be left with pennies in his system wallet. And that... Let's just say, he didn't want to let that happen.

As recent and very bitter experience has shown, the system currency and the opportunity to use it to buy items at the system auction can make life much easier and even save it. And in the coming days, a ‘special’ lot should be updated at the auction... Sighing sadly, Cyrill switched to more ‘budget’ options. Fortunately, there were plenty of them. Especially those that did not create magic from scratch or enhance an existing source of magic, but allowed one to collect magical energy from the environment.

Like a Lightning Catcher, which was a tall silver spire-needle, made entirely of metal. In passive mode, it collected, as you might guess, magical energy from the air that had the corresponding aspect. And the higher it was placed, the greater the output. In active mode, it literally attracted all kinds of lightning, perfectly absorbing their power. However, this required either a natural thunderstorm or some kind of magical anomaly, preferably stable and air-based. And, just as important, it needed powerful enough storage devices to hold the energy from the lightning it caught.

It cost a reasonable amount of money compared to the same “Great Source of Magic,” but it didn't suit Cyrill at all. If he had a tower, then yes, but even if he placed it on the roof, the efficiency would be poor. The three-and-a-half-meter-high stone obelisks looked much more promising and attractive. Ideally, of course, they should be placed next to or directly on an existing natural source, preferably an earthen one, but even without it, being buried two-thirds in the ground, they drew energy from it quite well. Moreover, the longer they stayed in one place, the better and more energy they drew. In the long run, they could even reach the very depths of the earth. In the very distant future.

It would be a good option, if not for the fact that the energy they collect would be of an earthly nature. And if Cyrill were an earth mage, that would only be a plus for him. But he deliberately avoided choosing any one specific element, so the obelisks were rejected for now. The same was true of several other options, which were essentially magical generators of various types. Although Cyril had “set aside” one of them, just in case.

Despite its name, the Hearth of Magick most closely resembled a classic Russian stove in appearance. However, instead of wood, it required magically active fuel. It did not necessarily have to be something that could or should burn, although that was desirable. This hearth could easily process crystals or magic-infused pearls. Moreover, its efficiency was quite good, and with the right fuel, such as wood from some magical tree, preferably grown in a magic-saturated environment, it was simply wonderful. But again, where would you find so much wood, and not just any wood?

After reviewing a few more options, Cyril sighed sadly, but decided not to buy anything yet and to wait for a “special” lot first. Suddenly, there would be a magical analogue of a personal oil well? Or just another pornographic piece of crap, thanks to the fucking Master.

After making sure once again that the ritual circle was working properly and that there was enough powder left for at least two more days, considering that the barriers had already been created and simply needed to be maintained in passive mode, Kirill headed to the kitchen with Gata and Armina. Or rather, he first went to the pantry, where he put the food supplies he had received. That, too, was a separate headache. Food stores are always guarded particularly carefully, as they are a very tempting target for enemies. As is everything related to food in general, pouring poison or a love potion into an enemy's plate is the sweetest thing to do. Therefore, food and those who have access to it must be carefully checked and kept under constant control.

All this was reported to Cyrill Gata and Armina while the three of them were laying out the contents of a couple of boxes on the kitchen table and checking them with the amulets given to them by Diantrel. The inspection took over an hour and ended only when it was already dark outside. As a result, a quarter of the food went into the furnace. That is, into the kitchen stove. The reason was that foreign impurities were found in these products, and Cyril carefully burned them with magical fire so that in the end, only a small handful of weightless ashes remained. Moreover, with the help of one of the amulets, a kind of litmus test, it was even possible to understand approximately what these impurities were. About half of them were relatively harmless, causing only stomach upset. As Gata and Armina noted, this was a favorite effect of the specialized mentors, “clearing the head perfectly.” However, several apples were found to contain alchemy of a clearly romantic nature. And one of the bags of some local grain contained an impurity that, according to the amulet analyzer, affected mental abilities.

After carefully removing products with “additives” and double-checking those selected for cooking, Kirill and his colleagues finally began preparing dinner. They also prepared breakfast so that they wouldn't have to worry about it in the morning and waste time. Fortunately, it was not difficult for him to cover the prepared food with airtight barriers that maintained a low temperature inside. It was also easy to light the kitchen stove while Armina and Gata put on their aprons. Fortunately, there was already a supply of neatly stacked firewood here. It was even fun to use magic to select a couple of logs and split them into small pieces with barriers, literally recreating the iconic scene from the first Resident Evil movie. No axes or hatchets, just a simple weave, and voilà, even the most knotty pieces of wood were perfectly split. And in a moment, with a wave of a magic wand, they were already burning merrily in the stove. After all, how much magic makes life easier...

While Cyrill admired the flames dancing merrily in the oven, Armina and Gata had already changed their clothes and started cooking. If he were in some clichéd anime, one of them, or both, would definitely be completely incapable of cooking, but would be convinced otherwise. And poor Cyrill would have been forced to choke down and praise the disgusting food they had prepared, which would have melted spoons and forks. But fortunately, he was not a character in a Japanese cartoon, and both of his companions, as it turned out, had learned to cook as part of their professional training, which they cheerfully informed him of.

Although... The image of Armina and Gata in aprons covering only their naked bodies was very seductive... Or should I say appetizing? As if sensing his gaze, Armina, who had begun kneading dough while Gata cut apples, winked cheerfully at him. And the cat girl, flicking her tail, which she held down, demonstratively took one of the apples and slowly bit into it, so that drops of juice fell on her chin and began to drip down...

Licking his lips, Cyrill realised that his fatigue had vanished without a trace, and his desire to eat had receded not just into the background, but into the distant past. Instead, another desire took its place, reinforced by one of his long-standing fantasies from his time on Earth: a pretty girl wearing only an apron over her naked body, covered in flour and handprints... Mmm...

Taking off his outer clothing and hanging it on a free chair, thankfully, the kitchen had become very hot thanks to the stove, he approached Armina from behind. Hugging his frozen comrade around the waist for a moment and pressing her against him, Cyril whispered in her ear:

"Are you planning to bake apple pies?"

Throwing her head back, exposing her neck for a kiss, the girl said in a playful voice in response:

"That's right. I hope you enjoy them very much."

Having kissed Armina on the neck, Cyrill moved his palms from her waist higher, squeezing his companion’s breasts in his hands right through her clothes:

"I have no doubt. Although a couple of buns, as I see, are already ready. And just begging to be eaten..."

Cyril accompanied his words with another, more passionate kiss and unbuttoned the collar of Armina's outer garment. She responded with a quiet laugh and, without even wiping her hands, began to remove her clothes. Gata put aside the knife and sliced apples, and followed her example. Less than a minute later, instead of food pushed aside, Armina was lying on her back on the edge of the table, wrapping her slender legs around the young man. Cyril, leaning over her, was ready, but in no hurry to enter her. Instead, deliberately smearing his palms with flour, he caressed her bare skin, especially on her breasts and buttocks, leaving the imprints of his hands on her toned body.

Gata, purring predatorily, pressed herself against him, also demanding attention. Taking a small slice of apple in her mouth, she fed it to Cyril, kissing him passionately. The taste of the sweet and juicy apple combined with the taste of the cat-woman's lips was simply magnificent, and Cyril willingly responded to the kiss, giving himself completely to passion...

Soon, no one remembered dinner, and instead of preparing food, outright debauchery was taking place on the wide kitchen table. True, with the partial participation of that very food. Soon, both Gata and Armina were almost entirely covered in flour and smeared with Cyrill's handprints on their bodies. The young man was also quite dusty, but he paid no attention to it, completely absorbed in passion. He wanted only one thing: to endlessly enjoy the hot bodies of his companions, to inhale their scent, seasoned with the smell of female sweat, apple juice, and other foods. And, of course, to taste them!

Gata's breasts, smeared with flour and squeezed with juice from several apple slices, tasted simply amazing. And not just her breasts, and not just Gata. Both of his companions, soon covered from head to toe in flour and apple juice, were incredibly delicious, and he wanted to kiss, lick, and gently bite every part of their bodies. Which is what Cyril did, to their mutual pleasure, losing track of time until he had no strength left. Even to go upstairs to his chambers. Lying on the kitchen table, embracing his companions, all sweaty from passion and the heat in the kitchen, covered in flour and apple juice, Cyril felt himself falling asleep, exhausted but very satisfied...

* * *

The dreams were realistic, surrealistic, and frankly faded, as if they could have happened but did not...

A provincial town somewhere in the post-Soviet space was plunged into darkness and covered with snow. Most of the streetlights were not working, and most of the houses were also dark. There were no passers-by either. The snow-covered streets were empty, with only occasional patrols of heavy military equipment passing by, their headlights and searchlights constantly sweeping from side to side, targeting any possible threats with large-calibre machine guns. They slid past the dark windows of a small veterinary clinic without stopping, noticing nothing suspicious. To be fair, it wasn't easy to notice anything strange from the outside. But there was something there.

In the centre of the doctor's office, where operations were performed, stood a motionless, thin figure in a white coat torn by someone's claws and thickly stained with blood. Dark eyes stared unblinkingly out the window, watching another military patrol pass by. When it disappeared around the corner, the figure continued to stand motionless. Only when the door behind it creaked softly did it speak in a hoarse voice, in which something alien was clearly audible:

"Funny... Even before that, for some reason, I knew that this day would come. That someday one of you would come for me. I could feel it... Well, what can I say..."

Slowly turning around, the figure, whose movements revealed something inhuman, fixed its unblinking eyes on the cat sitting by the open door. One might even say, the tomcat. Huge, serious, and also... no, not wrong, but rather unusual. Its eyes, literally glowing in the darkness, looked very unkindly at the thin figure, and the tip of its tail trembled with tension. The staring contest lasted a few seconds, and then...

In the darkness of the veterinary clinic, a bloodstained scalpel flashed, clutched in a thin hand that clearly had more than five fingers, and claws that were impossibly large and sharp for a cat's paw...

* * *

A group of very diverse individuals, at the centre of which stood an extremely well-fed young man, froze, trapped in a sparkling sphere, in the middle of an endless void between worlds or even universes. And into this sphere poured two monstrous streams of clearly demonic energy, directed in opposite directions. The source of the first stream was a quartet of creatures of enormous strength and power, while the source of the second stream was creatures noticeably weaker, but there were a dozen and a half of them. Both sides strained with all their might, trying to push the sphere with its strange occupants towards their opponents. At the same time, they continuously hurled insults at each other:

"Take this perverted fatso back to hell with you, you bastards!!! We don't need him here!"

"Go to Warp, you bastards, we don't need him here either, we barely managed to get rid of him!!!"

"He ruined our Black Crusade!!!"

"And he ruined our plans to take over the whole world!!!"

The exchange was gaining momentum, but neither side could push the ball towards their opponents...

* * *

The spacious room resembled a richly furnished magical workshop or laboratory. It contained a multitude of obscure devices, machines, workbenches, and other items necessary to make any professional Artifactor happy. A significant portion of them was clearly elven craftsmanship. In the centre of the room stood a huge operating table surrounded by a ritual circle. Next to it stood a pensive-looking elf, clad in silver chain mail armour, with golden hair gathered into a tight braid. Her pine-coloured eyes glided over the objects laid out on a separate table next to the operating table, about which a young man dressed in something resembling a white doctor's coat was talking to her enthusiastically. Several metal spheres floated in the air around him, and behind him stood a couple of pretty girls in similar white coats, but with complex glasses with multiple interchangeable lenses. Both the young man's appearance and the girls' appearance seemed vaguely familiar to Cyrill, but it was not them that caught his attention, but the three-dimensional image of an abstract female body next to them.

Judging by what he saw, it was a diagram showing the placement and implantation of some kind of magical cyber implants, which were lying on the table. The elf listened to the young man, nodded briefly, and began to undress. Completely naked, she lay down on the table without any embarrassment and nodded briefly to the young man again. He had already put on glasses similar to those worn by his assistants and picked up some instruments that had been handed to him by the floating spheres...

For a moment, his vision blurred, and then Cyrill saw the same elf, but now wearing only underwear that revealed almost everything. She seemed to be dancing in the middle of the same laboratory, demonstrating various close combat techniques one after another with tremendous speed and precision. In her hands, glowing energy blades appeared out of nowhere, which she used to cut through the air, and then energy shields, which she used to block invisible blows. At the end, one of the assistants of a young man standing slightly to the side with a servile and respectful look struck her with a sword, which the elf blocked with her bare forearm. And the blade, which was supposed to cut off the woman's arm, bounced off her as if the girl had struck not living flesh, but a metal pipe.

The elf was clearly impressed. Nodding briefly to the young man, she turned and headed towards the rack against the wall where her clothes and armour were hanging. But when she took a couple of steps, the young man behind her raised his hand with something small in it and clicked it briefly. The elf immediately froze, as if petrified, and her eyes flashed naturally a couple of times. This sight evoked a strong association in Cyrill's mind with an electrical appliance that had been turned off. Or a stop button. A frankly malicious expression appeared on the face of the young man in the white robe. Taking off his coat, he slowly and almost dancingly approached the frozen elf. Leaning towards her, he asked sympathetically if she was all right. Was she feeling well? Standing in front of her, he looked her straight in the eyes and, with a malicious smile, patted her on the cheek as if she were a small child.

Then he slowly walked around behind her, pulled her close, and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them firmly. He wrapped his lips around the tip of her long ear and licked it for a few seconds, then asked insinuatingly: "Isn't it very unpleasant to be someone's helpless puppet, venerable Astra?" At the same time, he pulled up her shirt and began to fondle her breasts with one hand, while the other slid between her legs. His victim remained completely motionless, literally petrified. After playing with her like this for a couple of minutes, he took a step back, gave the frozen firstborn virgin a hearty slap on the buttocks, and then clicked something again, something that vaguely reminded Cyrill of a TV remote control.

At that moment, the elf spun around and headed back to the operating table. Jumping onto it with a completely blank expression, she quickly removed her undergarments, completely exposing herself. Picking up her legs at the knees, she raised them up, straightening them into a ‘V’ shape and exposing her rose for all to see. The young man smiled as he took off his trousers, leaving himself naked from the waist up, and approached her, already fully prepared for action. Taking his erect dick in his hand, he ran the head several times over the pussie of the motionless elf, and then slowly entered her.

After standing there for a couple of seconds and openly enjoying what was happening, he clicked his device again. At that very moment, the elf girl wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and her arms around his neck. The young man hugged her waist in response and began to move his hips quickly. Cyril, who was watching this process from the sidelines, involuntarily shuddered at the feeling of the uncanny valley caused by the elf's completely petrified face, while the young man (where had he seen him before?) blushed all over. Fortunately, it didn't last long, and in just a couple of minutes, he cummed inside her. Catching his breath and wiping the sweat from his forehead, the young man took a step back, assessed the appearance of his victim, and then clicked the remote again. The elf's eyes immediately rolled back, she let out a loud moan, and finished, climaxing violently. If the young man hadn't created a magical barrier between them beforehand, he would have been sprayed from head to toe. But instead, all of the firstborn's love juices gathered into a single ball, like liquid in zero gravity, and flowed into the drain in the corner of the workshop.

The dream rippled again, and a moment later, Cyrill saw the same elf, now fully dressed, sitting in a chair by the wall of the laboratory, wearing the same strange glasses as the young man's assistants. He was sitting next to her at a table with several mirrors resembling computer monitors, looking with interest at one of them, which was right in front of him. It showed a beautiful and powerful elf with platinum hair and emerald eyes. Moreover, she was reflected as if Cyrill were looking at her through someone else's eyes. The neighbouring mirrors reflected numerous small portraits of other elves, next to which were a few lines of text and two types of bright marks: red crosses and green ticks.

Before Cyrill's eyes, the mark next to the small portrait of the elf with golden hair, who was now sitting naked in a chair, changed from red to green. Next to her was a portrait of the very same elf with platinum hair who was now reflected in the central mirror...

* * *

A protected grove somewhere in the Forest...

Opening his eyes, the first thing Cirill felt was a monstrous heaviness in his head. The second was a wild dryness. And the third... Turning his head, the young man whispered with dry lips:

"Dammit..."

//"Wake up, Ciriall"

The voice of his mentor, ringing in his head, made the young man flinch, and he tried to sit up, but to no avail. His whole body ached from sleeping on the hard surface of the kitchen table, and to make matters worse, Armina and Gata, still snoring peacefully, had settled comfortably with their heads on his arms, causing them to go completely numb. Cirill managed to wriggle out of their embrace only on his second attempt, and he somehow sat down on the table, looking around. And he was shocked by the mess he saw. Well, this is just fucked up... What the... Damn, my head is heavy too...

//"You will find the antidote in the double bottom of the fifth box, the one with dried fruits. Take it and wash it down with plenty of water. When you come to your senses, let me know."

//"Okay... Honorable?"

//"Yes, Ciriall?"

//"How?"

Through the mental connection with the mentor, a feeling of something similar to a cheerful smile came.

/"A special alchemical mixture in powder form. It starts working when burned."

\\"But... But I carefully burned all the poisoned... I mean, processed food!"

//"And it wasn't in the food."

The mentor's voice became a little more cheerful.

//"You did a very good job of blocking all the windows and doors, Ciriall. But you completely forgot about the chimneys. In particular, the kitchen one. So when you lit the stove..."

//What... Oh... Damn...
T.N. Печка.

\\"Don't worry too much, Сiriall, draw the right conclusions, get yourself and your companions in order, and when you're ready, let me know. I'll set up a portal for you to go to the training ground."

With these words, Diantrel “switched off,” and Cyril looked around wistfully once more. Hmm... It seems that training with the new mentor will be very entertaining...
* * *

Statuses at the end of the second 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 combat weaving,’ ‘advanced mastery of general weaving,’ ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic weaving (air),’ ‘advanced mastery of elemental magic weaving (fire),’ ‘advanced elemental magic weaving (earth)’, ‘advanced elemental magic weaving (water)’, ‘masterful creation and use of ritual circles’, ‘advanced barrier and protective weaving’, ‘masterful control of internal energies’, ‘developed mastery of advanced amulets and artefacts’, ‘advanced ability to work with powerful external sources’, "advanced duelling with magic wands‘, ’advanced tactics of magical combat‘, ’advanced methods of magical search‘, ’advanced methods of magical camouflage", ‘developed wilderness reconnaissance skills,’ ‘advanced wilderness survival skills,’ ‘advanced magical sabotage skills,’ ‘advanced magical combat training instructor skills,’ ‘advanced healing weaving,’ ‘advanced archery,’ ‘advanced one-handed sword fencing (classical elven school),’ ‘advanced knowledge of alchemy,’ ‘advanced espionage,’ ‘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 V", 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", "methods of working with powerful external energy sources", "developed master skills in creating magical barriers", "advanced skills in creating magical weaves", "advanced basics of magical dueling techniques with combat rods", "developed tantric energy restoration techniques", "advanced creation and use of ritual circles", "advanced tactics of conducting a magical battle", "advanced methods of working with advanced amulets and artifacts", "advanced methods of magical search", "advanced general weaves of elemental magic", "advanced methods of magical camouflage", "basic skills of working underwater", "developed basics of creating and concluding magical oaths and contracts".

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 III"

Available number of activations: 0 (recharge 1 standard month).

Available number of companions: 3/3

* * *

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 (free): 3 (limited): 0

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 skills as a bodyguard", "advanced skills in handling amulets and artifacts", "developed skills in providing medical assistance".

Minor Knowledge:

‘Enhanced Strike III’,

Acquired properties:

"Trained Body II", "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

* * *

Name: Gata, daughter of Barías.

Level: 11

Connection level with the Chosen One: 2 (increased)

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

Class: Shaar'hashi (Embracing the Path of the Ancestor-Patron-Beast)

Characteristics: 0

Talents (free): 0 (limited): 0

Constitution: 7

Sensitivity: 4

Power: 1

Control: 2

Source: 1

Spirit: 1

Resistance: 2

Knowledge:

Written and spoken:

Classical Elven, Free Cities, Western Steppe (Beastfolk dialect).

General knowledge:

"Advanced hand-to-hand combat skills (Claw Style)", "developed skills in handling short melee weapons (knives/daggers/stilettos)", "developed skills in handling throwing weapons", "developed skills in undercover work", "developed skills as a bodyguard", "developed skills in handling amulets and artifacts", "developed skills in providing medical assistance", "developed knowledge of broad-based alchemy", "developed methods of tracking prey (Beast Form)", "developed close combat skills (Beast Form)".

Minor Knowledge: "Shapeshift II", "Crouching Step (Beast Form) I".

Properties: "Trained Body I", "Beast Vitality II", "Beast Sense I", "Beast Speed ​​II", "Reinforced Claws I".

Companion Modifiers: (None)

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/588752

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP