Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Глава четвёртая. Кирилл. Трудности обустройства собственного дома Героя Королевы Эльфов

Chapter Four. Cyrill. The Difficulties of Setting Up a Home for the Hero of the Elf Queen

* * *

Somewhere in the Underworld...

Running her palm over his powerful neck, covered in thick, dark-gray scales, Fayana gently scratched the junction of the pair of armor plates that protected the riding lizard's head. This elicited a muffled, contented purr from him and a barely noticeable wag of the flexible tip of his tail. Blinking the second eyelid of his bright yellow eye with its vertical slit pupil, he tilted his head slightly, exposing the sensitive area to the former Supreme Catcher's fingers.

A tight smile touched Fayana's lips. Good! Of course, she was more accustomed to the war-bred predatory lizards. They were faster and could be useful in combat, but they had to be picked literally at the egg stage and raised and trained personally. Because your eternity would depend on a war lizard, and trusting its training to anyone else... would be extremely unwise. And they had a far from easygoing nature, and not even everyone of her kind would be able to find common ground with such a dangerous predator. Not to mention the groundlings, who were encountering the "horses of the Underworld" for the first time in their lives, so for now, they'd have to make do with riding lizards.

They have a much more docile nature, they treat riders more calmly, and it's much easier to find food for them. While they're combat predators, they crave meat, and not just any meat; riders feed on the vegetation and mushrooms of the Underworld. It's much easier to feed them in the Wild and Neutral Territories, especially the less fussy breeds. However, if you keep them on the open grass for too long, they won't be able to travel very far or for very long; they'll start to weaken and may even develop a stomachache. Then they'll have to look for food plants and mushrooms, not just weeds. Therefore, it would be good if her search ended as soon as possible. And ended successfully!

After scratching the lizard a little more, which clearly made him enjoy himself, Fayana turned to the eldest of the dark dwarves, who was silently watching her and her companions-subordinates, and nodded briefly:

"Good. I'll take all six of you, along with their gear and two bags of fodder for each of them."

He nodded silently back, accepted a tight, heavy purse of silver from the former Supreme Catcher's assistant, which felt like a small bag. He handed it to his assistant, waited for him to quickly verify the money was in order, and then nodded to the other bearded men holding the reins of the lizards. The dark elf carefully examined each of them, along with one of the young men from the far north who had accompanied her on the search. Despite his youth, he had demonstrated considerable zeal in serving the Eternal Sun among the warriors guarding the underground halls beneath Iyastar and had already been ordained to the priesthood. His eyes glowed brightly with a golden light as he and Fayana examined the riding lizards, and his lips whispered a silent prayer intended to help them discern what was hidden. Having made sure with him that there were no surprises and/or dirty tricks, like marks, beacons, or something worse, the dark elf nodded once again to the bearded men.

They nodded briefly in response, and the deal was complete. Fayana's old acquaintance from a previous life, along with his companions, hurried out of the relatively small underground chamber, which belonged to the Neutral Territories. Its main advantage was its relative emptiness and several passages leading to adjacent chambers that were otherwise unconnected. A very good place for negotiations and deals where both parties distrusted each other. Which was a given for almost any deal in the Underworld.

And so, although the purchase of the riding lizards went smoothly, the dark elf, who had radically changed her life priorities in the fateful battle with the Terror of Diyarten, and her subordinates hastened to follow the dwarves' example and leave the meeting place. Only she did so on horseback. And while she sat confidently in the saddle of her riding lizard, her companions, more accustomed to horses, behaved much more awkwardly. The young priest sitting behind her in a double saddle was clearly struggling not to cling to Fayana, who sat in front. Only two of her companions seemed quite confident. A broad-shouldered, burly orc, over two meters tall, who hailed from the Eastern shores of the Steppe Sea, and who had already earned a fair amount of gray hair, was a veteran of the Bright Order, having served for the last ten years in the detachments guarding the underground halls beneath Iyastar.

It's okay, let them get used to it and learn! Especially since they have no choice in the matter anyway. They need to move quickly and cover great distances, as Miranthir's whereabouts are still unclear. Fayana used all her old connections that hadn't been completely severed, collecting old debts, obligations, and oaths, but she couldn't find any trace of the missing First Herald. The Underworld had been too unsettled after that fateful battle. They were only able to identify a few potential locations where Miranthir might have caused the commotion. Each of them had to be checked. And, of course, they all led in different directions.

So she had to urgently contact an old acquaintance who, for a generous fee, was willing to provide her with good lizard mounts and all the necessary equipment. And, most importantly, she needed to do it quickly and with an acceptably low risk of being caught. Yes, it had cost her dearly, but the expense would be well worth it! Her plans included establishing "underground stables" for those Theocracy fighters who brought light to the Underworld. So this could be considered her first investment in strengthening Iyastar's security. And for it to be more than just that, all she needed was the smallest thing: finding a single Ray of the Eternal Sun in the Underworld. And Fayana was determined to accomplish this task!

The former Supreme Catcher, without taking her eyes off the lizard, which, by the way, was superbly trained, imagined her cherished target. Completely naked, with alabaster-white painted skin and a jester's cap. Licking her lips, Fayana allowed herself a few seconds to savor this incredibly seductive image, then focused again on the road ahead. Everything in its time.

* * *

Underworld. Barracks of the Underground Corps of the Forest Guard.

The elven healer, clad in snow-white robes richly embroidered with red leaf-themed patterns, closed her glowing blue eyes, switching from magical to normal vision. At the same time, she extinguished the weaves inserted into the medical bed, designed to assess and monitor the patient's condition. Satisfied with the results of her examination, she nodded briefly, announcing her verdict:

"Everything is fine. The healing was successful, your vision is fully restored, no traces of damage remain, and you are free to go."

Luaval immediately rose from the healing bed with one deft movement and nodded respectfully to the Senior Healer of the Corps of the Underground Forest Guard, who had a wealth of experience in treating wounds left by the inhabitants of the Underworld.

"Thank you, venerable Latrimal, and accept my admiration for your skill! Believe me, I have someone and something to compare it to."

A faint smile touched the elf's lips, and she nodded slightly in response:

"Thank you for such a high rating, and I hope that we will have the opportunity to meet again in the very distant future."

With a quiet chuckle, Luaval nodded to the healer once more and strode decisively out of her office. As it turned out, he was already awaited in the hallway at the exit. Zairal stood leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, clad in the dark robes of a Catcher but without any weapons. Her fellow tribeswoman greeted him with an expression of truly exemplary dark elven arrogance and haughtiness. And as soon as Luaval opened the door, she asked, her eyes blazing angrily:

"You knew in advance, didn't you?"

He, instantly understanding what she meant, shook his head with a weak smile and replied:

"About there being a side passage between those two passages? No, I had no idea. I found it while looking for ways to get to you. And I admit, you blocked that passage quite well. I spent a whole day plotting ways to slip through your snares unnoticed, and in the end, I decided not to risk it and tried to find a way around. If I'd known about that side passage in advance, I would have ended our mutual Hunt much faster."

Zairal smiled mockingly:

"You would have gotten in my signal thread."

The smile on Luaval's lips grew a little wider:

"I admit, it was a most unfortunate mistake, unworthy of the City's First. But it was caused solely by the fact that I had no intention of harming you."

"Really?" Zairal's voice was filled with open skepticism.

"Exactly," Luaval nodded, completely serious. "I successfully approached you undetected, within striking distance, even though you'd defended your hiding spot quite well. And..."

Here, Luaval looked meaningfully into her eyes.

"...if I'd wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead. Even if the first blow hadn't ended your eternity, the second one would have. But I had no intention of killing you. I planned to paralyze you, slowly disarm you, undress you, and then admire your magnificent body right there. Of course, after hiding us in such a way that your moans and screams wouldn't draw half the Underworld, including those damned mushroom pickers. So I had to get really close to use the paralyzing needle."

Zairal's expression remained utterly haughty throughout her speech, yet at the same time, it seemed petrified. Only when Luaval finished speaking did she hiss, her voice full of contempt:

"It turns out that due to banal lust, the entire First in the City was left without eyes and failed his Hunt, surviving only with the help of his own prey."

A charming smile appeared on Luaval’s face again:

"My dear, I failed the Hunt because I was saving you, not wanting you to die and end up among the mushroom pickers."

"Really?" Zairal's voice was filled with seemingly endless sarcasm.

"Do you really think those creatures' spit could have completely blinded me? That I could have become First in the City without knowing how to function in complete darkness? That I'm incapable of living without my eyes? Did they really never hear of the Trial by Darkness in your former House?"

Zairal's angry silence spoke louder than words. Luaval continued mockingly:

"But you, with a broken leg, would hardly have survived the mushroom pickers, especially after the commotion we caused. So I had to carry you. And if I failed the hunt for some reason, it was because I didn't throw you off me and toss you out first when I reached the exit. Frankly, I would have done just that earlier, before the fall of my House."

Zairal's face remained haughty and motionless. But the former Supreme Catcher's chest heaved heavily. Her entire body betrayed extreme tension, like a predator about to pounce. So Luaval, his voice now extremely serious and calm, said:

"But that doesn't change the fact that I really did miss one of your signal threads. Come, let's talk in private."

For a moment, Zairal watched her kinsman calmly walk out of the Underguard infirmary, then followed him. Returning to his mansion, Luaval waved off the servants who greeted him and learned that his wife was busy bathing Diarval. He and his companion headed straight to his study. Closing the door and activating the wards, he leaned his back against the edge of his desk and asked, unexpectedly and bluntly:

"What do you want?"

Zairal, who remained by the wall next to the entrance, raised her eyebrows questioningly:

"What?"

"I'm asking you, what do you want? Our agreement is fulfilled. You've failed one single test and are now free to go wherever you please and do whatever you please. I was even a little surprised to see you in the infirmary. So I'm asking you: what do you want?"

Slightly narrowing her eyes, she clasped her hands across her chest again and asked:

Why does it matter to you?

Sitting on the edge of his desk, Luaval shrugged and said matter-of-factly:

"I've already told you that I want children with you, to restore my House. And since my original plan, to my great regret, failed through my own fault, I'm asking you directly: what do you want? Simply to understand if I have anything to offer you and whether it's worth it."

Raising her eyebrows, Zairal said with slight surprise and even disbelief in her voice:

"Did I hear you right? Are you seriously asking me to name a price for my future children?"

With a tired sigh, Luaval massaged his healed eyes and said with a hint of endless weariness:

"I asked you: what do you want? I remind you that our agreement is fulfilled. You can pack your things right now, go wherever you wish, and do whatever you want. I'm, of course, very sorry that this has turned out this way and that I've lost the opportunity to enjoy your body as I wish for the next three centuries, but I keep my word. And so I ask you: what do you want?"

Silence fell over the office for a few seconds. Then Zairal, frozen against the wall, asked in a surprisingly serious voice, looking intently into Luaval's eyes:

"Can you help me get to the Silk Spider?"

Luaval thought for a moment, then shook his head:

"I can, but I won't even try."

"Why? Do you think you can't handle it?"

"Approaching the Matriarch of a Great House, and the Magister of the Silk Thread School at that? I'm quite realistic about my capabilities and those of my patrons. It's not for nothing that Cialana has occupied her throne for centuries; during that time, she's woven a very reliable web around herself. Getting to her will take years of hard work with no guarantee of success, as a single broken thread in her web could ruin everything. And most importantly..."

Luaval looked meaningfully into Zairal's eyes.

"For what purpose? Do you want to take revenge on her for the Abdication? My advice to you is to abandon this idea. And even if I wanted to help you in this hopeless endeavor, my patrons would not approve it. The Silk Spider suits the High Hierarchs of the Forest just fine. So, I repeat – forget about her..."

"Easy for you to say!" Zairal suddenly flared up angrily. "That arrogant bitch took everything from me! Threw me away like useless trash! No, even worse, sold me as a slave!"

"But she could have killed you or completely deprived you of your mind, turning you into a mindless living doll,” the dark elf retorted in an unexpectedly calm voice, causing Zairal to stop short.

With another heavy sigh, Luaval continued patiently:

"And believe me, I know what I'm talking about. When my House fell, I spent the first decades thinking only about how to take revenge on those involved. I made plans. I even successfully tracked down and ended the eternity of several direct participants and perpetrators, who had the blood of my kin on their hands. I almost got to the throat of one of the Matriarchs. And I almost died, as practically my entire hometown began hunting me like a wild animal. They surrounded me from all sides, like a wild animal. I was saved only by realizing in time that fighting alone against the entire world was pointless. And all I would ultimately achieve on this path was the end of my own eternity. Even if I killed every Matriarch of the Houses who participated in the destruction of mine, I would only have achieved a celebration for their sisters, daughters, or nieces. Moreover..."

At this point Luaval's face darkened.

"...that the main culprit of all the troubles that nearly destroyed my House was not them, but my dear mother, whose wise leadership led to its downfall. Therefore, here's my other advice: forget about Cialana."

Seeing that Zairal was about to object, Luaval suddenly added:

"At least for the next hundred years. Or better yet, two. Just for common sense. You don't think she considered the possibility that someone would try to use you against her before selling you to Les, do you? I'm sure she was fully prepared for that, and if you even try to approach her, you'll end up in her web again. So here's my advice: forget about your revenge, at least for the next two hundred years."

Zairal narrowed her eyes and stared at Luaval, who sat calmly on the edge of the table, for a few seconds. Then she let out a heavy sigh and, with a deep anger and a rudeness that was completely un-elven, said:

"You irritate me. You piss me off so much..."

"That I'm right?"

"Because you are a smug, insolent little brat who has forgotten or never knew his place!"

In response, Luaval suddenly chuckled and answered in a cheerful voice:

"You'd be surprised how often I heard this from the Supreme Ones of my House after I became First Hunter, and not a single one of them was able to firmly pin me under their thumb. And when I became First in the City, I heard it from them almost constantly. But at the same time, I was too useful and necessary to them, so my dear mother and her sisters had to endure it with gritted teeth."

"I can understand them perfectly well."

"I have no doubt. So I'll ask you again: what do you want, Zairal?"

* * *

The Reserve Grove is somewhere in the Forest.

After all, you get used to good things very quickly. And once you get used to them, you start to take them for granted. And only when you're deprived of this "good" do you truly begin to appreciate it. Cyrill was now ready to cast this universal wisdom in granite and carve it in bronze. And maybe even in mithril. In the future. A very distant one. Possibly.

It was so wonderful to live in the luxurious quarters of the Royal Palace and not even to think about such things as securing one's own home and one's beloved self! It turned out that over centuries, if not millennia, of the eternal confrontation between sword and shield, the gifted inhabitants of Beriadon had come up with a whole host of interesting tricks for protecting their homes and infiltrating others' homes for all sorts of evil purposes. And now, under the guidance, but without any direct assistance from his mentors, Cyrill was mastering these intricacies at an accelerated pace and immediately putting them into practice. And they, in turn, were putting the results of his labors to the test.

As a result, he very quickly realized that simply covering and enclosing his home with protective barriers and fields was not the answer. No, it would certainly be useful, especially if you had a powerful source of magic beneath your feet. But these magical wall-like devices wouldn't protect you from, say, food additives, including complex ones, each component of which is harmless on its own, but together... After all, you don't grow your own food in a closed greenhouse (which also doesn't guarantee complete safety), but buy it somewhere? So everything that ends up on your table needs to be thoroughly inspected. Upon receipt, upon sending it to the pantry, upon sending it to the kitchen, and, of course, immediately before eating. Ideally, these checks should be cross-checked and conducted using different methods and in different ways.

Which meant the following: a scanning amulet system in the basement by the portal arch, a scanning system in the pantry, in the kitchen, in the dining room, and it would also be nice if all the dishes were enchanted to at least trap poisons. Ideally, to detect any foreign impurities in the dishes served. And, the icing on the cake, a good, ripe, juicy, delicious, sweet little cherry! That. Doesn't. Give. A Complete. Guarantee. Of Security. Because, given time and opportunity, a key can always fit into any lock, fuuuuck...

When Cyrill truly began to grasp the scale of the work ahead. Honestly, he wanted to howl, no, even scream it out loud! Because it was simply mind-boggling, how much there was to do!!! He even briefly entertained the seditious thought of buying the mask of a certain Gray Fox that had once been offered to him at the Auction, putting it on, and running off into the sunset, away from everyone. He would become a no-name, unknown to anyone, hunted by anyone, and cared for by no one. And live peacefully somewhere in a forest hut, disturbing no one and quietly, calmly mastering magic. Of course, he didn't do that; instead, cursing resignedly, he gradually built up the defenses of his mansion and set up security systems.

This became noticeably easier after the special auction item was updated. Cyrill had been waiting for this moment with bated breath, expecting until the very last moment that some depraved piece of crap would be offered for sale at a mega-bargain price again. But apparently, his patroness, thank her, the Most Magnificent, heard her chosen one's prayers, and instead of some legendary dildo-whore-maker, they offered him exactly what he needed. Well, almost.

Because they offered him not just a little, but an entire Encapsulated Unstable Planar Rift. That's all. It looked like a glass sphere, inside which something was constantly blazing, lightning flashing, waves raging, actual tornadoes swept by, followed by blizzards, then everything was engulfed by darkness, and so on again in a random order. From the outside, it looked beautiful and surreal: a ceaseless chaos of various elements, constantly replacing one another. It was perfect for displaying on a shelf, either to impress guests or to admire and meditate on; fortunately, the sphere was only slightly larger than a soccer ball. Just remember what would happen if its integrity were compromised and even the slightest crack appeared.

And it will be FUBAR, because if the capsule, which was the glass sphere, is damaged even slightly, it will immediately collapse, and nothing will contain the Rift. This will have all the ensuing consequences, including emissions of planar energies of fluctuating power due to the rift's instability, as well as breakthroughs by inhabitants of the elemental and other immaterial planes. These, given the Rift's instability, will also vary in both strength and color. And to top it all off, all of this will chaotically alternate. Just one minute, a Rift has formed in the ground where a flowering field once stood, gushing molten magma along with fire elementals, incinerating everything around it. An hour (or a minute, or maybe a day) later, a veritable tornado is raging in its place, with air elementals pouring out, raining lightning down on everything. At the same time, the fire elementals did not disappear anywhere, as did the lava that had managed to flow.

In addition to the constant stream of visitors from the immaterial worlds, there are also practically guaranteed problems with the stability and metrics of space, varying in stability, power, and intensity. Closing such a rift is certainly possible, but very difficult and expensive. The work would require at least several specialized masters of magic. Better yet, a master, given its instability and the fluctuating intensity of its "emissions." Moreover, what's especially "pleasant" is that the rift itself can exist for a completely unpredictable period of time. An hour, a day, or even a hundred years. Well, okay, a hundred years, according to the description, is highly unlikely; more likely, a month to a year, with, again, the intensity of the "emissions" fluctuating. That is to say, you could spend a huge amount of time, effort, and money sealing a rift from which elementals are pouring, only to have it suddenly close on its own.

At first glance, this lot seemed like nothing more than a good-quality WMD, which simply needed to be brought into enemy territory and then damaged. And then watch (preferably from afar) as, say, the territory of the enemy city turns into a kaleidoscope of natural disasters. Except for one small but!

It wasn't for nothing that the word "Encapsulated" was in the title of this lot! If you didn't hit the sphere with a hammer, didn't drop it on the floor, and handled it with extreme care, then in theory, such a rift could very well be used as a source of magical energy. Yes, it would be unstable. Yes, the energy's hue would constantly shift. But! BUT! If done correctly, if done competently, it could be used. In fact, as Kirill's mentor informed him, the infamous Archmage Reistar the Apostate actually began his career by settling on a rather powerful, but extremely unstable, source of magic. Because of this, at first no one bothered to approach him or even took him seriously; everyone merely waited with mild interest for the presumptuous upstart to spread evenly across several square kilometers after the source's next surge. And then it was too late.

The Rift offered to Cyrill was, of course, much weaker, and dealing with unpredictably changing elements is more difficult than with just the erratic spatial metrics. But in theory, with enough effort, this encapsulated rift could be transformed into exactly what he sorely needed: a sufficiently powerful and constant source of energy! Because, as the description specifically stated, as long as the capsule remains intact, the rift will never close!

True, using it this way was quite risky, since even the slightest damage to the capsule would likely force Cyrill to find a new home. At the very least. At best, the old one would be left with a crater. Perhaps smoking, but not certain; perhaps flooded. Or frozen. So, after reviewing the listing with his mentor, he decided to pass it on in favor of safer energy sources. And Diantrel supported his decision, confirming that if he were to acquire such a gift from the Tablet, it would be best to use it as a disposable weapon. But then "System Assignment Distribution IV," silent since the memorable trip to White Harbor, finally intervened, offering another assignment.

Using the provided materials and instructions, create an artifact complex for safely extracting energy from the Encapsulated Unstable Minor Planar Rift offered as a special lot at the Auction.

Completion time: four days.

Restrictions: No outside assistance in completing this assignment, including from fellow participants, is permitted; the use of any materials, instructions, or prefabricated elements other than those provided is prohibited.

Reward for successful completion: strengthening and full stabilization of the rift, establishing a clear elemental cycle; two elite tokens; full compensation for the purchase price of a special lot; two companion modifier points; two free talent points; one free attribute point; an increase in two random common knowledge.

Additional reward: ######

Penalty for failure: loss of the special lot; blocking access to the Auction for a period of ten days; blocking the receipt of new assignments for a period of thirty days.

Additional penalty for failure: ######

After reading the assignment, Cyrill thought very hard. No, in theory, he was capable of completing this assignment. After all, “methods of working with powerful external energy sources” combined with “advanced methods of working with advanced amulets and artifacts” were worth something. Plus, he had been promised instructions and materials. Even though he wasn't some kind of Artifactor, and he had never created any amulets, let alone artifacts, he would manage somehow. Probably. He wanted to believe that. He wasn't completely useless, was he?

But those damned ######, which hid some kind of additional reward and, more importantly, an extra punishment, were very alarming. Remembering the "add-ons" the System regularly gave him on top of his previous rewards... He was starting to feel uneasy. He honestly told Diantrel about this. Well, or rather, he told her about the assignment he'd received, but Cyrill didn't dare mention the additional points or his concerns about them. Otherwise, there would be unnecessary questioning, which could lead to some very uncomfortable questions. Have you ever had any additional hidden rewards before, Ciriall? What kind? No, no way.

The mentor, upon hearing Cyrill's proposed assignment, became very thoughtful. She pondered something for about a minute, and then, in a surprisingly confident voice, declared that he should accept. Because she believed in him, her student, and had no doubt he could handle it. Hearing this from her was, of course, quite gratifying, but still, when Kirill agreed to the task, his heart sank. But it was too late to back out; he accepted the assignment, and the next four days turned into... not hell, of course, but a very tense and nerve-wracking experience.

Cyrill, as promised, immediately received all the materials and instructions after accepting the assignment. The latter weren't even written down, but rather organized, which was very convenient. It was always right there, you could always check it, it wouldn't get lost, you could make notes, and so on. But getting a description of what you need to do and actually doing it were never the same. Otherwise, any idiot in Cyrill's home world could become a dentist or a neurosurgeon simply by reading a textbook.

So, gritting his teeth, he had to delve into the descriptions he'd received and sort through the materials provided, of which there was quite a bit. A set of various storage crystals of decent size. Not nearly as large as those they'd plundered from the accursed Kardaroth vault, but all of excellent purity and energy capacity, without the slightest flaw. A couple of dozen rods and rings of varying lengths and diameters, as well as a few other elements made of pure silver. A separate altar-pedestal made of white stone, reminiscent of marble, with a recess for a sphere-capsule with a fracture. Several rather large boxes with sealed, special containers of alchemical materials. And, of course, a separate box containing a whole set of tools for magical crafting.

Everything provided was of excellent quality, according to Diantrel. The mentor, like anyone else, was unable to assist Ctrill according to the mission's terms, so she immediately left his mansion after he accepted it. She informed him beforehand that she would adjust their future classes and training, taking Gata and Armina with her. Cyrill couldn't train with them now, but that didn't mean they couldn't train without him. Besides, there was no point in risking the mission's failure; what if even bringing the young man something to eat would be counted as assistance?

The latter turned out to be an unnecessary precaution, as System Help informed Cyrill on the evening of the first day, in response to his inquiry. Tired and hungry, he emerged from the basement where he'd decided to place the source and was preparing the necessary space for it. His companions were allowed to feed him, even bringing him food directly to the basement, but they were unable to offer any advice regarding the assembly. This lifted his spirits, and he happily dined with the returning girls, who had been running independent programs all day, leaving them just as exhausted as he was. Of course, he didn't forget to carefully check all food and drink.

Cyrill spent the next two days in the basement. In the morning, Diantrel picked up Gata and Armina. Cyrill, taking the food and drink stored in enchanted containers, hurried to the basement. Step by step, carefully, cursing and swearing, he assembled the damned artifact complex, meticulously following the instructions! Well, okay, not damned, but because Cyrill had never encountered anything like this before, minor hiccups regularly occurred during the work. For example, on the first day, he sectioned off a section of the basement and prepared the area for the complex. To do this, using the provided alchemical materials, tools, and his own knowledge of magical weaving, he fused a section of stone slabs into a single monolithic unit. He also strengthened them and compacted them as much as possible. Everything was done strictly according to the instructions.

As a result, he obtained a square platform capable of withstanding quite serious magical and physical impacts without any harm. It was, so to speak, the foundation of the future complex, upon which all the other elements could be placed. Only when everything was ready did it dawn on him that some of these very elements needed to be placed on it before it hardened. Cursing, wasting time and effort, he had to cut holes in the platform using magic and the tools provided. This was no small feat, considering it had proven extremely strong and stable, thanks to the alchemical materials provided! He also had to work carefully, precisely, so to speak, calculating the location, distance, and depth, ensuring that the platform didn't crack.

Overall, this flaw was quite frustrating for Снrill, but he eventually fixed it. By the evening of the second day, he'd even managed to finish assembling the complex's main components, of which there were quite a few. He spent most of the third day, in fact, completing their final assembly and installation. A white stone altar was placed in the center of the platform, to which silver brackets were added to hold the sphere-capsule. This sphere would draw energy from the rift through it. From it, along the platform, through special grooves that had to be carefully sawed through, with much cursing and swearing, silver rods extended. They connected to a wide, flat ring of the same silver, into which the most numerous and smallest crystals had to be carefully inserted.

Their purpose was to initially absorb the energy coming from the rift, stabilise it, and then distribute it. Oh, and of course, filter it. From the first ring, the same silver rods that served as conductors for the magical energy flowed to the second, even wider ring, on which larger crystals were placed in groups at regular intervals. There were six groups in total: one for each primary element, one for conditionally neutral energy, and one more group that served as a kind of recycler for overtly negative and harmful types of energy, where it would be "burned out."

By the end of the third day, when all these compensators, accumulators, distributors, amplifiers, concentrators, stabilizers, filters, purifiers, and who knows what else were either completely or almost finished and installed, Cyrill could confidently declare the following. Artifact engineering was clearly not his thing. Absolutely not. Some people might enjoy sitting in a workshop, tinkering with all this magical engineering. There are guys, and even girls, who wouldn't mind spending time with their dad in the garage tinkering with cars, but Kyrill was definitely not one of them.

It was much better to practice magical weaving at the Diantrel training ground, fending off wooden golems, than to sit here and struggle with installing storage crystals and integrating them into various systems of the complex. Although, to be fair, here too, more than one or two weaving systems had to be created to control the distribution and subsequent transmission of energy from the rift, but it still wasn't quite the same. Striking enemies with lightning, fire, and magical arrows is much more enjoyable than configuring and connecting all the key components of the artifact complex.

And putting it all together wasn't the end of the job. The young man devoted the entire last day to ensuring that every element was working properly before installing the capsule with the fracture and conducting a test run. After that, he corrected some minor flaws and errors, like a couple of tangled guide wires. Then he conducted another test run, pumping energy through the complex in different directions and modes. A few more identified flaws were also corrected. After the third test run, when everything seemed to be working perfectly and without any glitches, Cyrill, wiping the sweat from his brow and grabbing a quick snack, set about the final stage. Well, the pre-final stage.

It goes without saying that such a critically important location as a power source (and one as dangerous as a rift, albeit encapsulated, but still a rift) can't be left unattended. In the future, this part of the basement will need to be walled off, but for now, protective barriers will suffice. Fortunately, he now understands something about them! And, in fact, this was the most enjoyable part of the task for Cyrill, even though it wasn't really one. Cover the entire complex with a barrier dome. Or better yet, a double one. Even a triple one. Cover the entire platform, with the complex itself, with a special paired barrier sphere designed to stabilize it in space. And to protect against a possible strike from below, a favorite of geomancers who specialize in demolishing enemy long-term structures. Now, even in the event of an earthquake, the complex will remain stable and intact. Well, as long as the defenses hold. Or, at least, unless the strike is of extraordinary force.

So, what else? Hmm... Okay, precautions won't do any harm. Let's surround the future "reactor" room with a couple more classic barriers, like walls. As they say, more barriers for the God of Barriers! Well, it all seems to have worked out well.

Снrill, exhausted and having expended most of his reserves, surveyed the results of his labors. He glanced at the timer. It had about six and a half hours left. Exhaling, he informed Diantrel of this, then checked everything again, step by step. Inhaled. Exhaled. And very carefully, he removed the sphere-capsule from the special box with soft-lined recesses where it had lain all this time. The box, incidentally, was as strong and secure as a decent safe, only without a proper lock. Trying not to breathe, Kirill placed the capsule with the fracture in its designated place on the altar. He carefully closed the silver retaining brackets with a soft click. He exhaled with relief.

He stepped aside, beyond the barriers surrounding the complex. He waited until, at Diantrel's request, a portal to the Royal Palace was opened for him. He greeted the mentor who emerged from there. He handed over the tools he'd previously stowed away, along with all his other personal belongings, to minimize losses in the event of failure. Then he shielded himself, the mentor, who silently observed his actions, and the portal arch with another protective barrier. A moment later, Diantrel added a couple more. He confirmed that all his personal protective amulets were charged and functioning properly. He exhaled again. And only then, with a sinking heart, did he activate the result of his labors.

For a moment, nothing happened. And then, from the glass sphere, where a fiery hurricane was raging at that moment, a powerful stream of magical energy poured through the stone altar. Mostly, of course, it was fiery in color, but there was plenty of air there too. This stream rushed through the altar on the floor first to the primary circuit, where it was stabilized, purified, and redirected to the corresponding groups of storage crystals in the secondary circuit. These, in turn, gradually began to fill with energy and glow as a result.

At the sight of this, Diantrel and Cyrill, without speaking, breathed a sigh of relief. And a moment later, before they could say anything, the System, previously silent, unleashed a barrage of messages on the young man.

Attention!

New knowledge received:

"Basic Methods of Creating Artifacts and Amulets"

Attention!

You have successfully completed the task of creating an artifact complex!

The encapsulated Rift has been stabilized, and its power has been increased.

Knowledge "Basic methods of creating artifacts and amulets" has been upgraded to "Developed methods of creating artifacts and amulets".

Knowledge of "methods of working with powerful external energy sources" has been upgraded to "advanced methods of working with powerful external energy sources".

Elite token received:

"Restoration 3/3" - Allows you to restore any damaged artifact up to Archmage level to its original condition. Please note: Restoring the artifact's integrity does not replenish its charge/energy reserves!

Elite token received:

"Secret Room 1/1" - allows you to create an isolated spatial gap tied to a specific building/location, which can only be accessed from the tied location.

Attention!

Additional reward received:

The knowledge "Developed Tantric Energy Restoration Techniques" has been upgraded to "Advanced Tantric Energy Restoration Techniques".

Tokens received:

"All-Seeing Eye 50/50" - allows one to see through the clothing of a selected target for one hour, which the user considers to be minimally attractive, ignoring any protection or camouflage.

"Intimate Nest 1/1" - fills any empty room with everything necessary for carnal pleasures.

After reading the reward descriptions, Cyrill involuntarily let out a sigh. Inwardly, of course. Of course, it would have been better if he'd gotten a boost from some other knowledge, rather than the leveled-up Artifact Science, but it would do. And the hidden reward, while predictably vulgar, was still... ahem, tolerable. And even partially useful; after all, sexual energy restoration methods can certainly be used. But the tokens... One of them is pure indulgence and a voyeur's dream. Although... Okay, in theory, it could be useful too. To avoid, so to speak, falling into a trap.

The second one... Hmm... Let's just say it can be left for the long term. For the very long term. Because for now, Cyrill was more than happy with his own bedroom in the new mansion.

"Ciriall? Are you okay?"

Diantrel's voice brought the frozen young man out of his stupor. Blinking several times, he nodded to his mentor.

"Yes, completely fine, everything is fine. I was contemplating my reward."

"I see. May I ask what the Tablet has gifted you with?"

It took a couple of minutes to recount the list of rewards to Diantrel, leaving out the additional part. And frankly, the mentor was impressed, momentarily losing her usual, exemplary elven composure. Particularly when she examined the "3/3 Restoration" token. She asked Cyrill several times, then asked him to send her the description directly. She read it over several times, and then, becoming extremely serious, said:

"I don't think I'd be far off, Ciriall, if I said this gift from the Tablet is the most valuable of those you received as a reward for completing her quest. Even the possibility of acquiring your own small vault, similar to the one in Kardaroth, pales in comparison. May I ask you for one of the uses for this gift?"

"Um, yeah, sure, I don't have anything broken. What do you need fixed?"

"Not for me," the elf shook her head. "I don't have a single thing that needs restoring or would be worthy of such a gift. But in the Forest's treasury, some artifacts were either damaged beyond repair or had practically exhausted their durability."

"Yes, of course, no problem. I have nothing to fix, so at least we can use all three charges."

A faint smile appeared on Diantrel's face, and she nodded slightly to Cyrill in gratitude, but then shook her head:

"It would be unwise to waste this gift entirely, Cyriall, and it's worth saving at least one charge for yourself. For emergencies. You may not need this gift now, but it could prove quite useful in the future."

Turning her gaze to the artifact complex created by Cyrill, whose storage crystals were gradually filling with energy coming from the rift, Diantrel said:

"Regarding your creation, it's more than satisfactory for a first attempt. I couldn't help you during the process, but now that the assignment is complete, I'll ask my colleagues, who are knowledgeable in artifact making, to prepare the necessary training and working materials for you to improve your energy source. And to further secure it. But we'll deal with this and other matters tomorrow."

With a very serious face, the elf nodded briefly to Cyrill once more and said:

"You've done well, Cyriall, especially considering you haven't had any practical experience in this kind of thing. Feel free to go and rest; you've well earned it. Tomorrow you'll have a theoretical lesson, and the day after we'll return to practical training."

With that, Cyrill said goodbye to Diantrel, and Gata and Armina had just returned from their training through the portal. By lunchtime, the girls were exhausted beyond measure, having been driven around the training grounds by Secret Guard instructors following individual training programs all those days Cyrill had spent in the basement. Armina had finally reached level eighteen, and Gata had already reached fifteen. True, both unanimously claimed they had never been driven so harshly in their lives. And yes, they knew that both the Forest and Secret Guard instructors were some real sadists. But to be so...

But despite their exhausted appearance, even without the connection, Cyrill sensed that both of his companions were more than satisfied! Especially Gata. The catwoman spent her accumulated three talent points on upgrading her "Trained Body" trait to level two, and "Developed Hunting Techniques (Beast Form)" and "Developed Close Combat Skills (Beast Form)" to advanced.

Armina, who still had three talent points left after their joint voyage to White Harbor, and now had another one added, decided to invest them. Not all of them, though, just two. Cyrill understood her anguish perfectly. After all, level twenty was approaching, at which new talents and properties of a higher quality would surely be unlocked. But she still had to survive to reach that level, or rather, level up. And, as Cyrill knew from personal experience, training at the training grounds became less and less effective with each level. So Armina, almost grudgingly, as she admitted, also purchased "Intensive Development" level two. But she still saved two points for the future.

Cyrill didn't blame her, as he himself was considering holding off on wasting talent points until level 30, two of which remained. And at that point, he was sure to unlock something tasty, especially given the stat boost. Speaking of which, he decided to use the extra point he'd gained to increase his Power, bringing it to 11. But the young man did this only that night, when the three of them, having refreshed themselves in the bathhouse, exhausted but satisfied, went to bed.

Before bed, Cyrill also spent two of his companions' modification points, purchasing "Physical Enhancement II" for Gata. When activated, it increased Physicality and Resistance by three and two points, respectively, for an hour. For Gata, as a physical fighter, this could be a significant advantage in combat. It had a three-day cooldown, though, so it wasn't often used, but as a sudden boost, it could be quite handy. Cyrill decided to hold onto the other two modification points. As his voyage to White Harbor, which he would remember for the rest of his life, had shown, it's always better to have a few trump cards in reserve, which can be purchased from the System.

With these thoughts, he fell asleep hugging Gata and Armina...

* * *
https://ibb.co/7dngsQFf

He had different dreams: realistic and surreal, delusional and normal...

A spacious but practically empty room with a high ceiling, illuminated by dozens of magical crystals shaped like candles and torches. The walls and floor were lined with black marble, yet the space didn't feel gloomy. A pair of dark-haired men, one larger, the other slightly smaller, in orange work overalls, were finishing putting away various construction tools when another man strode up to them. Wearing a discreet jacket and a flat cap, he approached the workers and asked them sternly:

"So, have you finished making the windows?"

The smaller of the men immediately nodded and answered in a cheerful voice with a funny accent:

"Boss, everything is done, the windows are ready, everything is as it should be, yes!"
T.N.

The man in the jacket glanced at the nearest window, beyond which a clear blue sky could be seen, narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and approached it. Opening it wide, he peered out—and… his pancake cap immediately flew off his head, flying somewhere into the air. He jerked back, turned to the stunned workers with a contorted face, and yelled:

"What have you done, morons!?"

They stared at him with wide eyes, and the smaller one mumbled:
https://ibb.co/7dngsQFf

"Boss, why are you arguing? We did everything right, just like you said..."

"Okay?! You two are idiots! How did you install the window frames?! Huh?"

"How..."

"Upside down, morons! Look what you've done!!!"

The dumbfounded men peered cautiously out the wide-open window, their mouths hanging open. Because there was no land below, just an endless blue sky with scattered clouds. But from above, they could see that same land, somewhere far below, since the window was open, apparently at the height of the thirtieth or fortieth floor of a huge black skyscraper. The men, who had recoiled from the window, didn't have time to say anything before their boss burst into a stream of curses:

"I told you, watch where their input and output circuits are! Where's the bottom, where's the top! It was all written there! Redo everything quickly, you idiots! If Mr. Reistar finds out, you'll get a dick in the ass, not your paycheck, you idiots!"

With these words, the man in the jacket, yelling at the terrified workers, strode resolutely toward the exit, continuing to curse quietly under his breath. Throwing the door open, he took a decisive step forward and, with a loud scream, somersaulted headfirst from his height. The adjacent room turned upside down, its floor level with the top of the open door. The last thing Cyrill heard before the dream gave way was a scream: "You set up doors wrong too, you idiots!!!"

* * *

A very attractive blonde girl in white, seemingly glowing from within, kneels with her hands clasped, looking with the blue eyes of a cat from Shrek at an equally blonde woman. The first has long hair, reaching all the way to her tailbone, while the second has a short, almost military-style haircut. And she has an extremely displeased expression on her face as she looks at the girl standing before her, who actually looks very much like her. At some point, with a heavy sigh, the older woman seemed to give in and, shrugging her shoulders, spread a pair of enormous wings with snow-white feathers. The girl, with a joyful squeal, immediately jumped to her feet and went to hug the woman, who rolled her eyes.

The next moment, Cyrill saw the same girl standing before a vaguely familiar guy. In her hands, the blonde held... a tambourine. Adorned with snow-white, glowing feathers. It wasn't hard to guess whose wings they'd been plucked from. And again, the girl had the eyes of a cat from Shrek, looking at the guy. And he looked at the tambourine and practically bit his elbows. Behind him, a teenage girl with a gopnik, tomboyish look, was fidgeting, practically hissing at the blonde like a snake. And a little further away, an elderly man in old-fashioned clothes, his face flushed, stood leaning on a good-sized shovel. Gripping the tool more comfortably, he muttered:

"So, in a good way, you just don't get it, grandson! Well, I'll clear your head right now..."

"That's right, comrade!"

At some point, another attractive girl appeared next to the elderly man. She was dressed in something between the classic black leather commissar's uniform and a latex suit from a sex shop. Her face was hidden by a cap pulled down over her head, bearing a red inverted star in a circle, barely held on by a pair of horns. But her figure was clearly visible, as was her long, blond hair. With a smug expression, she continued with a deliberate lisp, as if parodying someone:

"Don't let your grandson sink into the abyss of obscurantism! Religion is the opium of the people!"

The old man with the shovel, without looking at her, nodded in agreement, continuing to watch the boy, whom the teenage girl was trying to drag by the hand away from the blonde with the tambourine. And the next moment, the shovel whistled with incredible speed past where, a split second earlier, the head of the devil in the sex shop commissar's costume had been. But she, laughing like crazy and wagging her tail, dashed away. However, she soon lost the laughter, as the old man kept up his pace, and the blows of the shovel flew dangerously close to the tailed scoundrel...

* * *

After successfully solving the problem of the power source for his new home, Cyrill returned to the rigors of his daily training and work, following a strict schedule. One day was set aside for theoretical lessons with Diantrel and/or Alatrel. Two days were reserved for practical training. One day, these took place at the training ground, where Cyrill, Gata, and Armina practiced joint combat operations, honing their teamwork. The second day, the young man honed his magical techniques in special classrooms or laboratories, while his comrades studied individual programs. And then Cyrill spent another day working independently at home, step by step, building and adjusting the defenses of this very house. And so it went again. From dawn until dusk. Since there was much to do, for some reason, the System did not offer Cyrill a token or artifact that would allow him to extend his 24-hour period at least twice as long.

But he didn't complain! No, no, no, thank you very much, now he had something to compare it to! And it was better to spend his days studying and training — yes, sometimes quite hard and grueling, but with the chance to return to his soft bed in the evening, in the company of a couple of comrades — than to end up somewhere in the middle of nowhere, fleeing from terrifying ancient monsters. Or hordes of fanatical killers. So Cyrill didn't complain, no, no, no, and if such seditious thoughts did arise at the very edge of his consciousness, he shooed them away with a filthy broom. No, thank you very much, he'd have enough adventures for the next hundred years!

Step by step, he methodically built up his mansion's defenses, adding new elements and improving the existing ones. Each floor and room was divided into separate sectors, separated by protective barriers, configured to allow only a specific, currently very limited, group of people through. Moreover, the security checks were twofold: a subtle body cast and a special amulet-key. Cyrill crafted the latter himself, which is where the knowledge he gained while creating the artifact complex came in unexpectedly handy. Ideally, of course, he would have added a blood check and created a "Smart Home" system to automatically track everyone entering or leaving the mansion. But creating such a system was a labor of love and required a ton of resources. That's if you did it yourself. Although buying such a ready-made artifact from the System wouldn't have been much more expensive. But then you'd also have to fine-tune its weaves, and to do that, you need to understand how to do it correctly...

In short, Cyrill faced a multitude of tasks. His eyes weren't just afraid, they were terrified, but his hands gradually made progress. And anyway, as Diantrel regularly encouraged him, the Royal Palace wasn't built in a day either. So there was no need to despair, but to work methodically. A lot of work. And Cyrill did. He created and configured protective and scanning systems, filters, and analyzers for food, air, and water. His "secret room," created with the token he received as a reward, presented itself as a separate challenge. He used it practically the day after completing the task, in the presence of his mentor.

No, it was created without any problems at all. The token worked as planned, and the young man's mansion acquired an additional, "modest" room, ten by ten meters, with three-meter-high ceilings. Diantrel, appreciating the token's effect, bluntly stated that any power-broker would have paid a great deal for such an additional space, especially one so well-sealed. Because the "secret room" could only be accessed through the entrance in the mansion. No portals or passages from the outside were accessible. But the entrance itself...

It didn't exist. I mean, at all! Instead, after using the token, Cyrill received a small amulet-key made of dark metal from the System. It looked like a real key. Simply place it on any closed door in the mansion, and when you open it, you'll find yourself in a "secret room" instead of the original location. It doesn't matter if it's a closet door, a dresser door, or even a chest of drawers—it doesn't matter if you can squeeze through. The main thing is that the door is closed when the amulet is activated. You can exit through any door that's also closed at that moment. If, for some reason, there aren't any in the mansion, the room will create one automatically.

And it seemed just perfect. Cyrill had a reliable, highly secure, safe place, which Diantrel immediately advised him to turn into a last resort. And to stockpile food, water, amulets, and everything else he needed for that very emergency. The only problem was the key. It couldn't be copied or altered, but it could certainly be destroyed. Or lost. And then, if there wasn't someone in the "secret room" who could open it from the inside, that's it. This was a problem. A serious problem. The solution was obvious, but it still made Kirill kick himself. Out of greed. Because he had to spend a talent point and purchase the "Spatial Pocket I" system modifier.

Although in terms of capacity, it was more like a good army backpack. Its contents could end up in Cyrill's hands at any moment, and whatever was in his hands could be transferred there. Assuming it fits. It was very convenient, reliable, and useful, but damn, what a waste of a talent point! He'd hoped to save the two he had until level 30, so he could buy himself something cool! And then something like that was bound to appear; it was a high level, and his stats would improve. Sigh...

But risking the loss of such a valuable asset as his newly acquired "secret room" was unacceptable, so, gritting his teeth, Cyrill's inner hamster gave the go-ahead for this expenditure. After Diantrel, in addition to lectures on home security and practical exercises on the same topic, also gave him a couple of lectures on spatial magic and portals, Cyrill fully appreciated the awesomeness of the token. And how fucking awesome the Kardaroth vault was, one he would remember until his old age.

After all, space is extremely resistant to change. Therefore, any manipulation of it requires considerable effort and profound knowledge. And the slightest error in working with space will likely be fatal. No, he'd imagined this before, especially after visiting that same damned storage facility. But he only fully realized it when Diantrel gave him several good lectures, combined with practical exercises, so that Kirill could properly use and operate the portal arch in his basement.

Although after gaining this knowledge, using it became a little scary. Because it turned out that portals are truly dangerous and shady things. Yes, they are very useful, very necessary, and specialists in this field are never short of money. But if something goes wrong with the portal, if some error or deliberate sabotage occurs that damages the portal arch or simply disrupts its stability... The consequences, as already mentioned, will most likely be fatal.

Well, what can you do? Space doesn't like being broken, bent, or twisted. It doesn't like it, and it constantly strives to return to its normal state. And the greater the distance you try to "break through" a portal, the more difficult it is and the higher the risk. This is why, in fact, all normal and adequate individuals prefer, if given the choice, to always use full-fledged, permanent portal arches. And the larger and more powerful they are, the better. Because it's more reliable and reduces the risk of being distributed, evenly or unevenly, across an area of ​​several square kilometers due to some malfunction, everyone needs to know how to use portal arches; it's practically a mandatory skill for any moderately powerful mage, unless they want to travel everywhere on foot.

And it's not enough to simply know how to turn it on and off. You need to understand the subtleties of how to properly tune into the desired portal arch, how to properly synchronize its input and output circuits with your own, and how to check its stability. And, of course, how to ensure that the portal you open leads exactly where you want it to, and not into an ambush or trap. You also need to know how to securely close your portal arch to prevent anyone from visiting without permission. And if they do, to prevent them from wandering too far. Therefore, after training with Diantrel, Cyrill, following her advice and tips, purposefully set about building a natural checkpoint in his basement, surrounding the portal arch with permanent protective barriers.

As well as traps, signal and scanning weaves, and, of course, a whole bunch of duplicate stationary amulets embedded in the walls, floor, and ceiling. The latter, in fact, were largely homemade. Cyrill spent more than one or two evenings creating them, cursing and swearing. After all, artifact making wasn't his thing! But both Diantrel and Alatrel unanimously asserted that making your own amulets was safer than buying ready-made ones from outside. Yes, it takes longer, but it's more reliable. Provided the materials haven't been compromised. So be vigilant, Ciriall, and practice checking the materials you're given for your amulets.

And of course, for the artifact complex you created. Yes, yes, yes, and don't look so sad. Even though you completed the assignment, your lack of experience is still noticeable, and there are certain flaws in your work that need to be corrected. Cyrill merely sighed heavily but didn't argue, listening attentively to Diantrel, who had given him more than one lecture on this topic and also provided several textbooks from the Forest libraries. And yet, she categorically refused to participate in any way in the modernization and adjustment of the complex Cyrill had created, citing the need for Cyrill to become an independent mage. This meant he shouldn't allow anyone outside the sanctum sanctorum, the power source on which the entire defense of his home now depended.

The young man basically agreed with that. Except he couldn't bring himself to call Diantrel a stranger. Especially after everything they'd been through during that little twenty-minute adventure in White Harbor—literally in and out, damn it! But he obviously wasn't going to argue with the elf, so in addition to crafting amulets to protect the mansion and testing various things, he had to finish the artifact complex himself. He cursed under his breath. Honestly, if the System had randomly assigned him classes, and he'd gotten an Artificer or a Mage-Mechanic, it would have been the end of the world. Oh, and of course, now he had to check the materials provided to him in addition to food and drink! Thanks to that big-eared pest!

Well, okay, not a pest, but a highly professional, damn, experienced elven agent-seductress who genuinely cares about his safety, for which he's simply grateful to her from the depths of his soul! And that wasn't sarcasm. Almost. Because Alatrel, to her credit, never lied, and took the training of Cyrill and his companions with no less seriousness than Diantrel had before. True, the latter's lessons didn't make the young man want to regularly smash his face in with his palm. Or anything heavier!

Because the locals have managed to come up with a huge number of ways to fuck with the minds and bodies of their close and far neighbors! It's simply astounding! And while the various combat mentality techniques that were added to the practical training at the range were more or less tolerable... yes, they were unpleasant, especially when you're holding a position under enemy fire and suddenly realize you need to change it immediately, and to do that, you need to turn off the defensive barriers... or when, conversely, you've pinpointed the enemy's position, prepared an attack, but instead of hitting the enemy, you almost hit, say, Gata...

These tactics were unpleasant and infuriating, but Cyrill gradually learned to combat them, learning to notice and suppress the onset of influence or even simply Alatrel's attempts to "probe" him. And, according to her own words, he was quite successful at this, even as a young man. However, as that long-legged seductress rightly said, combat mentality is a rare commodity, for few can effectively use it in combat. And quickly confusing a well-armored and prepared enemy, or one already engaged in combat, is quite a challenge. Systematic sieges are another matter entirely...

At this point, Cyrill, and not only he, could only bite his elbows and howl at the top of his lungs. Or chew the tablecloth. Or suck on those damned lollipops, which, as it turned out, elves were quite adept at making! Because repelling a slow and carefully calculated attack was far more difficult than a direct attack on the brain during combat! Or rather, not so! Repulsing it wasn't all that difficult. One good run of one's own reserves through the energy channels—and in most cases, that was enough to burn out someone else's magic and will from one's subtle bodies. The problem was noticing that very will, recognizing it, and, once recognized, wanting to resist it.

And that was the main problem! Gradually, as their studies progressed, Cyrill was increasingly able to detect the beginning or actual attempt at influence from Alatrel. And in most cases, he was able to react and stop it. But if he missed this very first stage, then everything became sad. One might even say, miserable. Because even after realizing that he had missed the beginning again and was being bewitched or enchanted, Cyrill felt no desire to resist. He managed to overcome this reluctance, imposed by someone else's will, on his own only once in five cases. And that was when he had gained at least some experience. In the beginning, he only managed it a couple of times.

But not because he was as bad as Alatrel "consoled" him. But because she was a professional. Well, yes, if you don't praise yourself, no one else will. Although in this case, the praise was entirely justified. Cyrill, if he missed the initial attack, could only be rescued by his companions. Armina was assisted by her fours in Resistance and Sensitivity, as well as Vigilance II. Thanks to them, she was somewhat better than Cyrill and Gata at detecting the onset of the attack. And once she noticed it, she would immediately sound the alarm. Or hit Cyrill, which was no less effective; Alatrel wholeheartedly approved of this method. True, hitting her would have been even more effective, but the elf categorically disapproved of that.

Gata fared less well, but thanks to her similarly high Sensitivity and the "Beast Sense I" trait, the catwoman also managed to regularly detect the onset of Alatrel's effects. Especially if she was even partially in beast form. And just like Armina, she sounded the alarm. That is, for Cyrill. And literally, which was quite helpful. But not always. If Alatrel had already managed to completely confuse the young man by this point, then beating him or cutting him wasn't guaranteed to help. At least not quickly. And Gata and Armina weren't always with him during classes.

As a result, whenever Alatrel took over the young man's training, Cyrill would regularly find himself lying on the floor at her bare or stockinged feet, or slumped in a chair, a lollipop in his mouth, which Alatrel had placed there. Or sitting at the table, engrossed in chewing the edge of the tablecloth like a rabbit, while Armina, leaning over the opposite side, polished it with a rag until it shone like a mirror, oblivious to her breasts almost spilling out of her dress. Or lying on the sofa, stroking the tail of an equally drowsy Gata, who in turn lay on it, purring like a real cat. There were many variations, but the result was always roughly the same: a feeling of shame, a rock-hard erection, and a jumbled mind.

And what was especially infuriating was that, relatively well, at least compared to his first lessons, he was only able to resist when the lessons were held face-to-face with Alatrel. But when she and Diantrel combined their lessons... That was a disaster, there's no other way to put it. Because listening to a lecture on portal magic, knowing that at some point they'll try to start nagging you again (or they won't, and you'll be on tenterhooks all day, ha-ha-ha, damn!)... Let's just say it was far less than enjoyable. And concentrating on the topic was harder in that case! And in the end, you'd end up waking up under the table, at the feet of a heavily sighing Diantrel.

It would seem impossible to learn anything under such conditions?! But both elves were remarkably unanimous and ruthless on this matter. No, they both honestly admitted that such an approach would normally be extremely counterproductive. But Cyrill is a special case due to the presence of the System. Plus, as he understands perfectly well, he has no time for leisurely leveling, since the threat from Master has not disappeared. Therefore, as they would say on his native Earth, only hardcore.

To be fair, it should also be noted that Alatrel didn't simply try to bewitch him time and again, using one method or another. Like Diantrel, she also conducted theoretical lessons, explaining how and by what means her colleagues most often acted. And how to spot these actions early, what to watch for, what to pay attention to, how and what to do to protect your home, to prevent them... The seductress offered plenty of theory, but there was far more practical application in her classes, which tested that theory. And these practical lessons usually ended in an obvious way.

It was irritating, even infuriating, but... no matter how hard it was for Cyrill, no matter how much it frustrated him to regularly recover from yet another missed "hit" from Alatrel, in a half-amoeba state suffering from a hard erection... These lessons and the young man's suffering had an effect. Days passed, days turned into weeks, and although not as quickly as Cyrill would have liked, progress was made. The system assessed the results of his torment and gradually bestowed new knowledge. And with each gift, life became a little easier. However, not for long. Because the mentors, seeing progress, immediately increased the difficulty.

But still, by about the end of the first month of training with Alatrel, Cyrill could boast of such increases in his status as:

"Developed methods of detecting and countering mental influences."

"Advanced Methods for Creating Long-Term Defense Systems."

"Advanced Fundamentals of Spatial Magic and Portal Work."

"Developed Fundamentals of Intelligence Work."

"Advanced Methods of Creating Artifacts and Amulets."

"Basic foundations of broad-based alchemy."

Moreover, when he finally received the coveted "Basic Foundations of Methods for Detecting and Countering Mental Influences," he barely resisted the urge to invest his remaining talent point into it. He wanted to level them up as quickly as possible and more easily handle Alatrel's missions. Common sense stopped him, as he would have leveled up this knowledge soon anyway. Talent points could and should be saved for something more useful.

In fact, at one point, it even became a personal challenge for Cyrill, one he set for himself. To reach at least an advanced level of this knowledge without investing a single talent point. The temptation was strong, however, and it flared up with renewed vigor each time he took another blow from Alatrel, who regularly greeted his awakening with a faint smile on her elvenly beautiful face. And a comment along the lines of, "You did much better this time; I even had to try harder." This was particularly irritating, but Cyrill stubbornly refused to give up, aided by another important factor! The experience bar wasn't completely filled to level twenty-nine, but it was about sixty percent full, which was certainly encouraging.

Where there's twenty-nine, there's thirty! And thirty isn't just a serious age (ha-ha!). It's also a stat boost! Which means new perks from the System! And he'd be better off saving his talent points for them so that by the time he reaches thirty, he'll have three, and then he can acquire something interesting! Some elite ability, or even boost his core illusions!

And there was one more thing... As much as he was a little embarrassed to admit it, but... Sometimes losing to Alatrel was actually quite enjoyable. Particularly when the lessons were face-to-face, and the elf used her legs for leverage. Because she, like Diantrel, was perfectly capable with them. Modeling agencies back home would have hired both of them without any questions! Or as advertising agents for Victoria's Secret or other companies selling women's lingerie and tights.

And touching those little feet, or allowing them to touch him, was quite pleasant and exciting for Cyrill. Because of this, to his own not-so-small shame, Cyrill "lost" to Alatrel a couple of times, even though he could have won. But he didn't want to. Not in the sense that he didn't want to because of influence, as usually happened, but in the sense that he didn't want to. Then he felt ashamed, primarily in front of himself, hurt, and... embarrassingly pleasant. Especially that time, during a theoretical lecture, Alatrel, sitting at the table across from Cyrill, suddenly extended her foot under the table at the very end, silently kicking off her shoe. And with that very foot, clad in a stocking, she brazenly and unashamedly pressed it against Kirill's groin and began rhythmically pressing and stroking it. In the first second, the young man was ready to jump. Even in the first two. Or even three. But then he actually gave in and allowed himself to "float," simply enjoying the delightfully obscene caresses from Altarel through the fabric of his pants, which had instantly become tight.

Meanwhile, the elf, while "working" Cyrill under the table, continued her lecture on the most common love potions mixed into food with a completely calm and serious expression, so that Gata and Armina, sitting next to him, suspected nothing and didn't notice. And when the young man had completely "softened up," she worked on his companions in a virtually identical manner. The only difference was that, let's call a spade a spade, she didn't jerk them off under the table; she simply stroked each of their legs. Very tender and erotic, yes, but still not as vulgar as with Cyrill. And when all three were enchanted, Alatrel brought them back to their senses. And then she gave Cyrill and his companions another lecture, who only managed to avoid turning crimson with shame thanks to their "advanced control and management of internal energies." On the topic of "methods of influence through direct contact." And how to counter these methods.

But, to be fair, Alatrel rarely allowed herself such overt influence. And even when she did, she always emphasized what she'd said during their first conversation: you can't learn to swim without ever stepping into the water. Complaining about this was foolish, arguing was pointless, so Cyrill endured, suffered (sometimes, to his shame, enjoyed it), but gnawed at the complex granite of magical science.

It was a small consolation that he wasn't suffering alone, but in the company of Gata and Armina. And for the catwoman, this month was the hardest of all. She didn't have the bonuses Cyrill and Armina received for their damn underground voyage. And she was driven mercilessly, both during individual and group training. As a result, she managed to reach level seventeen, which she was incredibly happy about. She also upgraded her "Developed Intelligence Skills" and "Developed Bodyguard Skills" to advanced levels without spending talent points. She spent both of them on acquiring the same "Intensive Development" trait as Armina and Cyrill, first at level one, and then at level two. Because without it, she says, experience trickled in during training, despite all the intensity, which was somehow quite sad.

Armina had reached level nineteen, but hadn't acquired anything yet. Although she really wanted to. As she admitted, the three talent points in her status were literally itching to be spent. But like Cyrill, she was determined to wait until level twenty. And then... Then she could buy something sweet, yes. That last part was a direct quote from the young man's companion. But she still had to live to reach that coveted level. And to live to that point with her mind and sanity intact, she had to learn to protect that very memory and sanity.

"And with this, Ciriall, you still have significant problems."

Alatrel's voice seemed to come from far away and above, barely penetrating his head. His thoughts were tangled, desperately refusing to unravel. A painfully familiar sensation. With a titanic effort of will, Cyrill sent a wave of energy through his subtle bodies. And then again. And again. After the third time, he felt better, his head cleared, his body lost its tautness, and the young man became fully aware of himself lying on the floor of the living room of his mansion, where Alatrel had given him theoretical lessons today, combined, as always, with practical ones. Specifically, next to the armchair with armrests, where Alatrel sat with the most serious expression, arms folded across her chest.

The elf's breasts, by the way, were completely covered by the dark blue dress. As were her shoulders and arms. But Cyrill could fully appreciate both of Alatrel's legs, encased in black silk stockings, thanks to the open neckline on the side of her skirt. And the fact that both of those legs were now resting on his chest, lightly pressing him to the floor. Cyrill's outerwear had been unbuttoned by himself, as he now realized, so he could fully enjoy the touch of his mentor's silk-clad legs against his skin. And she, in turn, was able to perform the almost unimpeded contact-type stimulation already familiar to the young man.

Without changing her position, Alatrel said in a calm voice:

"You noticed the beginning of my influence, Ciriall, right from the start. That's commendable. But having noticed it, you didn't even try to resist. Although you succeeded last time, even without the help of your companions."

Cyrill glanced sideways and saw Gata and Armina sitting right on the floor, almost hugging each other, their faces blank as they watched the tip of the catwoman's tail rhythmically swing from side to side in front of them, like a pendulum.

"It's sad," Alatrel continued. "Do you have anything to say, Ciriall?"

Cyrill sighed heavily and, succumbing to some inner impulse, blurted out the first thing that came to mind. Or rather, what was already there:

"You look absolutely stunning in these black stockings. They suit you much better than the white ones you had last time. Honestly."

A hint of something that might have been a smile flickered across Alatrel's face. Probably. Cyrill wasn't sure, as he continued to lie on the floor, looking up at his mentor. It might have seemed that way. In any case, her tone was completely serious:

"You need to put in more effort, Ciriall. You're already quite good at noticing and resisting most of the main methods of influence, but you're too easily swayed by feminine beauty. At your age, this is understandable, but it could end in big trouble for you."

Removing her feet from Cyrill's chest, Alatrel slipped on her black patent leather mid-heeled shoes and rose to her feet, simultaneously dispelling the effects of the spell on Gata and Armina. When the young man stood up, she continued, her voice still serious:

"We're done for today. Get yourself and your companions in order. Overall, you're doing better, but you all still have some work to do. See you the day after tomorrow."

“See you later, honorable,” Cyrill nodded in response.

Having escorted Alatrel to the portal arch, along with Gata and Armina, who were frowning over the failure of their last exercise, the young man single-handedly opened the passage to the Royal Palace, bid the elf farewell once more, and then extinguished the arch, sealing it securely. Then he sighed heavily and asked:

"So?"

"It seems to be clean. This time she didn't 'forget' anything on the way to the portal," Armina replied.

"It seems?" the young man clarified.

"I didn’t notice anything, even though I was observing her the whole way,” the girl shook her head.

“Me too,” Gata nodded.

"I see... Okay, wait, did we check the living room? Damn... Okay, wait, did she leave it somewhere after we missed the impact?"

Cyrill, instantly serious again, began frantically checking the mansion's weaves, checking the marks indicating Alatrel's passage through various rooms. At this moment, Gata and Armina were hastily inspecting and checking every room along the seductress's path with a set of amulets, lest a repeat of last time occur.

* * *

Returning to the Royal Palace, Alatrel nodded briefly to the Secret Guard Corps' assistant, Sivila, and a pair of agents in discreet gray robes who greeted her in the special portal room. They escorted her to a private office, where Alatrel quickly and habitually compiled a report on the day's activities. After signing it and handing it to the Third's subordinates, she said goodbye and stepped outside. Diantrel was already waiting for her outside the office door. With a welcoming nod, she said:

"Greetings.. How was today's lesson?"

Nodding in response, she and Alatrel slowly walked towards the exit of the Secret Guard Corps.

"Better than I expected. But not by much. He's making progress; he's learning quickly, thanks to his gift, which can't be denied. However..."

A faint smile appeared on the agent's face.

"... the boy is too greedy for the beauty of firstborn beauties."

"What's surprising about that?" Diantrel shrugged.

The smile on the professional seductress's face grew a little wider and she cast a meaningful glance at her colleague:

"It's truly no surprise that mortal men and women are drawn to the beauty of the firstborn. But even among them, not all are so delighted to find themselves in the place of the young grass beneath our feet... The First Tree sees that if, at our first meeting, when the threads of the thrice-cursed Master guided and entangled me, I had known that he himself would be delighted to feel my tread, I wouldn't have bothered with unnecessary suggestions."

Regaining her serious expression, Alatrel continued:

"It's funny, of course, that such a passion would otherwise only make my work easier, but now it's more of a hindrance than... Dia? Has something happened?"

A little belatedly, noticing that Diantrel had stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of the corridor, Alatrel instantly became wary and looked anxiously at her colleague. She stood transfixed for a moment, then quietly asked:

"What did you say?"

Even more wary, Altarel repeated:

"I said that otherwise his passion..."

"Before! What did you say about your first meeting?"

Not understanding what was happening and the reason for Diantrel's tension, the agent spoke carefully and slowly:

"I said that if I had known at our first meeting that he himself was glad to be in the place of young grass, then I would not have wasted time on what turned out to be unnecessary..."

A loud, doomed groan from Diantrel interrupted Alatrel mid-sentence. Clutching her head with her right hand, the white-haired elf stood motionless for a moment, then, without warning, she lifted slightly off the floor and flew through the air in the opposite direction, leaving her colleague and a couple of other Secret Guard agents, going about their business, completely confused and unsure of what was happening. But Diantrel had no time for them now. Rushing through the corridors of the Secret Corps, she practically flew into the office she needed, nearly colliding with Darendil-Twilight's resident mentalist at the door. The latter was sitting at his desk with his other subordinates, and Diantrel reacted to this sudden appearance with truly exemplary elven calm and composure:

"Flights inside buildings are prohibited."

But a moment later, his voice suddenly became serious, and he asked:

"Did something happen?"

"Greetings, esteemed ones," Diantrel blurted out, ignoring the remark. "I need reports on the Guest's treatment after the assassination attempt. Everything they did to him. Urgent."

For a moment, Twilight and his subordinates looked at Diantrel, then nodded briefly:

"We'll find it now."

While his subordinates were looking for the necessary documents, their commander, looking closely at Diantrel, asked:

"What is the reason for such sudden interest?"

"I have one guess. And the First Tree sees it, I really hope I'm wrong..."

"Please! Here are copies of the reports from Geatral and the healers from the rapid response team." Diantrel handed the required scrolls to Sunset, the former mentalist of Twilight group.

And because of his specialization, he could instantly recall, if he didn't always know, where and in which archive the required document was located. Literally snatching the scrolls from him, Diantrel ran her eyes over them one by one. And then she let out a heavy, resigned sigh, predictably failing to find what she had hoped to see until the very end...

* * *
Statuses at the end of the fourth 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,’ ‘developed 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,’ ‘developed 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 2/5 (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) 1 (limited): 0

Companion Modification Points (2)

Constitution: 3

Sensitivity: 3

Power: 11

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", "advanced 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", "developed methods of detecting and countering mental influences," "advanced methods of creating long-term defense systems," "advanced fundamentals of spatial magic and working with portals," "developed fundamentals of intelligence work," "advanced methods of creating artifacts and amulets," "basic fundamentals of broad-based alchemy."

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, Spatial pocket I

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", "Surge of Life 3/3", "Restoration 3/3", "All-Seeing Eye 50/50", "Intimate Nest 1/1".

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: 19

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, Intensive Development 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: 17

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", "advanced skills in inteligence work", "advanced skills as a bodyguard", "developed skills in handling amulets and artifacts", "developed skills in providing medical assistance", "developed knowledge of broad-based alchemy", "advanced methods of tracking prey (Beast Form)", "advanced close combat skills (Beast Form)".

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

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

System modifiers: Intensive Development II

Companion Modifiers: Physical Enhancement II

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/593258

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP