Готовый перевод Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 13

Chapter 13

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In the case of the burly, broad-boned woman Kirik had asked to check for health problems, his wife's relative, the cause of the illness was not magical at all. It was the drooping of her left kidney, that made her unable to stand, for the organ in that position drooped more and more, causing her to faint from the weakness. While she was lying down everything was really normal, so the young man was not rushed to check. Even an apprentice healer could deal with such a disease if he could diagnose it, so it was not difficult to cure. Stepan spent more time to ensure that he didn't cure her too quickly. He limited himself to summoning a specialized spirit to strengthen the area of tissue, and another spirit to wrap around the kidney and physically prevent it from changing position too much, more for the sake of reassurance, separately prescribing the conditions of not causing more harm with his actions.

The fee was minimal for a normal healer's rate, not only to avoid haggling but also to avoid explaining to anyone what had happened to the patient and why she was so bad. It was enough to imagine him explaining anatomy, blood flow, and peritoneal deformity to the semi-literate villagers, trying to make the terms as clear as possible. In the end, he just finished with a classical by the standards of even the magical Middle Ages phrase about bad blood flowing to the head and declared the session over. He asked only not to walk and not to load the patient physically for the first couple of days so there would be no relapse, and he left, not really listening to the tearful gratitude and assurances of eternal friendship. Kirik, characteristically, was and remained much more taciturn, which was a noticeable advantage against the general background.

In fact, this short healing session was the most significant event of the next five days. At first, the young man once again endured kickback from the alchemy he had used, which made him wish that the evil spirits who had come to visit hadn't killed him. He walked back to the clearing and began to assess the task ahead, already intuitively guessing that this would be a long time coming. Protective elements were burned out or used up, most of the circuits were either ruptured or simply discharged, and even the totems were worn out from the excessive load, though outwardly remaining the same, in the spiritual reflection received some damage. All of this created a list of future tasks, not counting payback and payment of debts, plus a little more on top, for good work. Still, his retinue had leaped above their heads in this battle, even with all the support of the shaman and his backbone, but had destroyed extremely strong and numerous opponents.

A Creep Bear alone could eat a Senior Shaman and his retinue if he caught him outside the place of power. For a simple Adept Shaman, even the place of power would not be helped much. Well, if it was a simple one, because the same Angry Tit, as Stepan suspected, could not even notice such an attack behind her home walls. If her mother is a really strong master, at the expense of contracts stretching to the next rank, then there are only senior spirits to meet the guests should be at least three, and if everything is serious and it's time to throw the last reserves, and up to a dozen. The boy, of course, could not know for sure, but simple math and basic shamanic erudition played a role here. For so many generations, having such power, it was impossible not to make a lot of useful deals. If only because without this plethora of deals and contracts, there would be no such power.

It took another twenty-four hours to evaluate the events of the past battle and the amount of debts. The notebook and good memory allowed him not to be afraid of forgetting about someone. The volume of purchasing power for the System Store gave the possibility of not being too skimpy on reciprocal gifts. To his relief, he had successfully forgiven at least a third of his debt by the fact that all of the spirit and power left behind by the enemy had gone to the allied entities that had fought the enemy. In general, such things are most often prescribed automatically, combat trophies and combat booty, but for Stepan played the fact that he, first, made the payment for combat participation as clear as possible, giving no room for interpretation. I pay you for the fight, and I get everything else, including any trophies, so that they don't demand to feed them the guts of prisoners or something like that. The usual, albeit extremely high-quality, over-insurance for working with spirits, especially dark and evil ones but it didn't fully work here - after all, we were not talking about material trophies or living people, but about the remnants of power and will of fellow spirits.

But here everything was better. On Stepan's side was a place of power, which nourished the whole retinue during the battle. The enemies had fallen there. Technically, the young man was not prevented from using the remains of spiritual bodies and echoes of power to strengthen the totems and the clearing but he did not do so. Instead, he feeds and nourishes the retinue. He wanted more than anything to return to his body and sleep for twenty hours, but he didn't have the energy for the hard, somewhat tedious, and not entirely safe work with the spiritual matter and flesh in question. In general, the trophies went to fighters, so he got and got a lot of discounts for debt-crediting, not to mention that many spirits had enough of the payment already made, they could only be tipped for good cheer. In fact, most of the upcoming task was to renegotiate the spent one-time contracts, as well as to pay the costs of those of the spirits whose contracts "for battle" were not designed to fight against the same inhabitants of the spheres, because we were talking about fighting in the real world and against material beings.

It was important and extensive, but nothing fundamentally difficult or at least challenging about it. The only thing that remained unchanged was the amount of wasted time, but nothing to be done about it, so he had to spend it. That's what he did while patching totems and creating at least some protective barriers for his clearing because the main ones had died. Well, not all of them - the third one, which covered him and the base of the totems, no one managed to break through, not even Creep Bear. There was also an outer one not letting the enemy out, which the enemies did not hit almost at all, concentrating their efforts on attacking. But everything in between was either completely unusable or so mangled that it was easier to uninstall the remnants and do it all over again. This is despite the fact that uninstallation will also require considerable effort. The defensive contours reinforced by territorial influence have become firmly embedded in the land cursed by spirits. Now their mangled remnants will have to be uprooted.

Because of such routine, the first decade since the end of the adventure passed almost imperceptibly, only interspersed with visits to the house for physical and mental rest, as well as attempts to teach Melda the basics of ritualism for the ungifted. Stepan remembered how he had conducted that unfortunate fortune-telling - even if incorrectly, but very competently guessing some details. In general, he began to explain to a teenager about safety techniques and how to get at least some benefit from such entertainment, except for the village authority. The same conspiracies for health are actually harmless even in case of error, have a high chance of working, and do not require - most of them - bloody sacrifices or symmetrically imposed curses on the neighbor. The boy's interest didn't wane, which was even pleasing, but underlyingly he realized that the kid was learning it all just to show off in front of his peers.

Just a couple of days ago, when Stepan was once again in the clearing and missed everything he could without even watching through the spirits, a large fishing boat and a couple of smaller ones, just from neighboring villages, came down from upstream of the Dantra River, a kind of combined team. And even though there were their own "ship-boy" of similar age, who had gone to the river fishing with their parents for the first time, now the main leader of Lyady had something to answer. You were just fishing and trading, just floating on the river, and he had almost learned to talk to the spirits! Stepan can't say it tipped the scales in his favor, but it was certainly a worthy argument. Before it was necessary to bring everything to a fight with strangers, otherwise there was nothing to answer. That's how the boy explained it to him, shining with a black eye, and if his almost truthful boastful statements were to be believed, his opponent had two of it and a broken nose.

The second of the three available attempts to get an elite item from the system store had also failed, though this time he wasn't being offered a combat dildo for free. The item was a reagent, but such, you know, bearing a flair of typical Autogoddess handwriting: a small vial highly saturated with magic venom of an extremely rare snake, which had to be born and live all its life on a specific magical source with very persistent and unusual characteristics at low energy saturation. Moreover, not only the snake, but also its nine generations of ancestors, so that the tenth was able to give a portion of poison with the right characteristics, and then another nine generations to wait for a new snake. A separate species of snake, not the fact that such snakes even exist in this world, or exist in numbers greater than a couple or three specimens, bred by powerful mages on the cultivated source. According to the reference - this reptile always lays only one egg, and to hatch twins from it, it takes very strong luck.

The poison itself was dangerous, but as an offering reagent for the spirits, it was almost priceless. However, the type of poison itself and the spirits that would come to the offering... is questionable. The poison is actually quite unpleasant, it causes memory problems, makes one forget elementary things, and destroys the personality, the brain begins to create a false memory, from which the snake-bitten dies a completely different and completely insane personality. Extremely unpleasant death, and not every antidote will not work, even if the poison is not particularly murderous, if you quickly take action, it is quite possible to save yourself. But the spirits, spirits, even very strong, even very close to the elders, which on such an offering will fly moths to the flames and flies to shit, belonged, as it is easy to guess, to the Sphere of Charms and Suggestions, especially those that work with the memory of the victim.

Stepan thought for a while. In the list of contracts to be obtained one very useful, which allows you to naturally dig into the memory of the victim looking for the necessary information, and harmlessly and unnoticed for the victim, which does not necessarily need to be kidnapped and tightly bound. But this spirit was not on the list of "WANT-GIVE-GIVE-GIVE!!!", but in the third queue to receive, only if free time appeared, so the shaman did not choose this product either. Moreover, he also had spirits of a similar direction, just many times weaker and rougher, in contact with him, a couple of them he even took into his retinue. Yes, the young man was taking a risk, especially if the third of the lots turned out to be an analog of the magic stockings lying dead under the bed, but still, it was better a small chance for something useful than something almost useless right now. And Stepan didn't hope for success, he had studied too well the degree of MILF's influence on the System and the system's issuance of all sorts of assignments.

But he was lucky, albeit a little, with the falling tasks, among which there was only one from the Autogoddess, and even that was small. However, two small assignments in a row: one for the standard work with the spirits of Light and Solar Spheres, postponed, but the second required to repair the arrays of protection in the clearing, making them at least not too inferior to the past power. After receiving the second one, he immediately put the first one out of the waiting, because there wasn't enough time for the assignment, but it would have to be done later. If the work with the solar spirits promised just experience, a fifth of the scale, as well as an increase in affinity with spheres in general and light in particular, then work with the defense promised to improve a developed base of techniques for creating those very protective arrays. This is quite a reason to strain his brain and ass, he had to process it again, having spent two nights in the clearing, which made his mood a little spoiled.

He accomplished the first task almost in passing, easily using the totems he already had as support and synchronizer for the call. He had done well, even making five new contracts. He had a certain lack of light spirits, especially combat spirits, rather than healers with support. It was the specialization of the spirits, which very rarely combine combat aspects with the light sphere, but they do. He emphasized sun-born beings that embodied the draining light of the desert sun, taking moisture and life. One of the summoned ones turned out to be a small treasure, able to cause rapidly progressing dehydration by bright rays, literally evaporating the liquid from the body, and the standard defense worked poorly, requiring a full-fledged field, covering the entire body, rather than the usual barrier. Or at least a selective one, if you can't pull out the field.

The second of the memorable ones could, in addition to simple analogs of laser beams and light arrows in the style of Star Wars blasters, cause rapidly progressing snow blindness, and it affected the body, not the aura. The magic trick only accelerated the progression of a quite natural disease, and normal defense against such an approach without knowing the original mechanism of influence could only be a defense that is initially higher in class. Stepan only grinned sadly at how he had managed to find a curser even among the light spirits. Not that it would be a particularly difficult feat, but with his life, he was more likely to be attracted to all sorts of weird shit than a kindly cutie with kittens. However, kind cuteness with kittens does not take root in high spheres or is so dangerous in itself that it's scary for ordinary dreadful cocksuckers to even get close to it.

It was too early to start working on the task with the tasty reward. Stepan wanted to take care of his debts first, so he fell out of his usual mode of sleep, or rather, of its remains for a long time. The days became a continuous stream of calls, meditative rest to replenish the reserve, and calls again. Most of the tasks went smoothly, and among the weak spirits in his retinue, few would have been willing to refuse him. A couple of them had slipped away. Apparently, they find the last adventure too risky. Spirits' self-preservation instincts were fine, as was their greed. Another had been eaten since he left, as he was unwilling to stay in the totem and had gone to the spheres on his own. The strong spirits were not reluctant to cooperate, especially Troika, who had to go into the coffers and pay them enough money for four summoned lizards. On the other hand, they'd taken out the most dangerous of the enemy, and they had a right to demand a reward.

As Stepan had feared, Donut Langolier raised the rate in proportion to his increased strength, but not too high. If Stepan hadn't been looking closely, he might not have noticed that the spirit had changed its requests. He would have to check with an independent expert to see if it was only for him that the increase was insignificant or the same for everyone. But the young man had suspicions as if there was a consequence of the fact that he had activated the blessing of the system on the spirit. And now the spirit does not have any debts to the shaman, but he did not dare to increase his rate. Only for such a test need to see how someone else will call a Donut.

The rest of the retinue renewed the deals or confirmed their validity almost without difficulty. The Lizard's request to add a little more wood for the fire, the smoke from which Stepan used as a resonator, was not considered as a difficulty, was it? There was only a request not to add pine needles next time, which was not even a problem. It's just that spirits sometimes have these little mood swings. The Milker didn't seem to see any unusualities or problems in the past massacre, having been quietly summoned under the same conditions. He was a golden spirit, honestly, all should be like that, and not as it usually happens with such entities, where the stronger, the more fastidious. The two jellyfish were just as golden, and they didn't seem to think that the dangerous end of their contract was a reason to break the terms of the deal but only asked Stepan if he had any claims for leaving him alone. He didn't, though he could have, but there honestly just wasn't any chance of following him there, even if at the cost of existence. It all happened literally instantly.

A lot more effort. Or rather, not effort, but creativity. He had to hunt down every bastard that had abandoned the summoner and the contractor at the moment of greatest need. They were understandable: they were outnumbered and outclassed, and the shaman couldn't physically charge them for their treachery. He would be finished. So, he had to call the trackers and hounds again, give them the images of the traitors he remembered well, and then eat popcorn, when those who thought they were the smartest were found, eaten, and the fragments were brought to him. He collected these fragments, the imprints of the last will, and placed them in the central totem, creating a new, or rather, strengthening the previously underdeveloped, superstructure. This message proves that not only do they pay generously here, but they also demand that the payment be honored and that you can only get screwed once.

The last debts were paid by about the middle of the third decade from the time of the massacre. Winter had already set in and regular blizzards made it necessary to ensure the clearing remained insulated. One particularly severe blizzard Stepan pushed aside, closing a small task at the same time and receiving as a reward an increase in affinity with the sphere of the blizzard, as well as a handful of snow. Not just ordinary snow, but saturated with spiritual power and the corresponding aspects that Stepan held an extraordinary call the same evening and night, without returning to the house for dinner, calling another strong spirit, a pure elemental-fighter. He was able to cold and freeze, to attack with icy wind and pure cooling to absolute zero, and instantaneous, able to impose not too strong, but insidious area curse selectively freezing the aura of the enemy, making it difficult to control and replenish, as well as slowing down the process of creating charms, especially fire or generally "warm".

Twelve summons, indefinitely, but the best time to summon a spirit was in winter, or at most in very early spring or late fall: bound to its season, affinity with it to the deepest layers of its essence, in normal times it weakened to the boundary between strong and weak spirits, hardly remaining combat-ready. Of course, Stepan had contacts of more advanced entities devoid of such vulnerability, or even capable of bringing their winter and blizzard with them. There were, but there was no time to call them, and it wasn't even a matter of workload and the need to do basic tasks, for for the sake of one more elder spirit, and even a pure fighting spirit, the shaman would have found time. The problem turned out to be the offering itself, the handful of snow from the top of the highest mountain in the world (the world, by the way, was not specified), received for driving the storm away from Lyady. The snow was rapidly losing its saturation and usefulness, becoming less and less valuable with each missed second, and Stepan could either take a risk, summoning the dangerous spirit with little or no precautions, or be satisfied with a tit in his hands.

Considering the fact many of the entities of a similar type available for summoning, about which he had enough information in his knowledge, had a high coefficient of aggression and would definitely try the shaman for strength even not out of malice, but as a test of his professional aptitude, then without protection to get in touch with them - to pass the exam for sure. On the honorable winner of the Darwin Award with gold trim and purple cord. And his summon was not useless: there was no telling what might happen this winter or any of the following winters, which Stepan intended to live a long and peaceful life. Also, after gaining knowledge about the nature of a handful of snow through the help, the thought of finding the local Himalayas, climbing to the analog of Everest, and calling there. It was not only his weakness and a lot of more useful ways to spend time that stopped him, but also the theory that in the magical world, such a useful point from the magical point of view must have been occupied long ago. And it wasn't even clear what was worse: humans or other intelligent beings, or some terrible shit thing that had made its nest under the very heavens.

By the way, the blizzard had really gone away from the village, or rather, had not touched it all the time of its existence. By morning there was a complete calm and such a powerful snowfall that from the weightless and large flakes of snow it was impossible to see the path on which he was walking back home, lighting himself with a small and fidgety firefly. The path, also part of the defense array, even in its battered state managed to protect itself from being completely blocked, but still, while he reached it, he created several new cursing constructions. Already in the house, when he found Meld dozing off last night, he shook him up and had dinner and breakfast with the already cooled down food - he didn't touch it, either out of politeness or out of fear for Kirik's ears - feeling surprisingly peaceful. The boy who came to the threshold and looked at the resulting landscape, wiped his reddened nose and immediately stepped back into the warmth. It was freezing, but the weather was beautiful.

"If you're not sure you'll make it, stay." Stepan offered, following the rules of politeness, though he hated sharing living space with anyone, to the point of fury. "Or I'll send a spirit with you to keep you from getting lost."

Meld, at first, had also thought of staying in the house for some time, jumped at the last phrase, and Stepan mentally patted himself on the head. So that this bearer of a thorn in the ass, agreed to wait for the weather to clear up, when there was an opportunity to get another magic trick, and even to brag about it? No, this world is undoubtedly magical, but one should be able to distinguish between a slender, carefully verified magical theory, and completely unrealistic children's fairy tales! Meld, who refused to show off, was the latter. Sometimes it seemed to the young man that this boy would have run to Orodruin instead of Frodo for a chance to have a good laugh, and he would have come back in time for dinner. But that's just a grouchy grousing of a shaman who feels like an ancient super-intelligence, not a serious suggestion. Sooner or later, the boy would leave this village and go in search of a better life. He was simply cramped here and had nothing to keep him in Upper Lyady. Stepan, who understood this, tried to teach him what he didn't need, wanting to increase the chances that the boy wouldn't become another highway robber, goods in a slave corral, or a corpse in a ditch, but would be able to settle down in life. Or the boy would get his way, marry the girl he had saved from drowning, and settle down, you never know.

"Here, tie it around your neck and bring it back to me tomorrow, but don't lose it." Stepan took off one of the elements of his necklace and put in a small stone a couple of spirits of wind and snow, which would allow him to navigate in space, even in such a snowfall. "And don't play with the talisman, the spirits don't like it."

"Thank you, Mr. Pann!" Immediately answered him, shining a shiny polished coin, and quickly saying goodbye, not otherwise, fearing that the magician would change his mind, ran away into the snowfall. "Wow."

An audible exhale of admiration came from the way the snow wrapped around not only the boy but also the couple of meters around him. It's not an umbrella effect like a magical barrier. No, just each individual snowflake falling past, veering slightly off its original course to land outside the defense. With such cover, it was easy to see the road, even if the path had almost drifted, so the boy was not to worry and Stepan could rest. After all, the last debts had been paid, and the remnants of the traitorous fire-type spirit had been buried under the central totem. It was possible to exhale a little. Also check his last chance to get a gift item from the elite list, because the next in line to take it for free will not work, only with a full payment.

On the one hand, it was not another creation of the Milfic Goddess, which was even pleasing. On the other hand, the product itself was even less useful than that vial with a very unusual poison reagent. No, it's hard to argue with the fact that this gift of the System itself can be a cheat, for the possession of which will immediately find a place in the court of the ruler and a high title. Or an unmarked grave, if it would be cheaper to take away and share. And indeed it will be cheaper, than paying a fair price for such a thing. A very peculiar totem, in which slept no less peculiar spirit, and the spirit was at the same time very weak, the reserve of his strength barely pulled on the strong, but still remained within the spirit of the elder, simply due to the density of the thin body and its antiquity.

The totem looked like a flat coin made of very dark, almost black clay, with a child's palm imprinted on one side and the animal foot of a ferret or something similar on the other. It was the size of a tea saucer and as thick as a tea saucer. In battle, it was a useless joke, and in peace or calls Stepan would have no use for such a gift. The spirit did not give any signs of life and existence, did not respond to dialog or attempts to contact, only transmitted outwardly the image of calm, contentment, and "fuck you all, I'm resting here". It could do only two things - either to do nothing, just being at rest and not touching anyone, or to fulfill the only function for which this thing had been assigned such a value.

When activated, the magic non-coin is placed on the ground or a special pedestal, there is no difference, somewhere above the underground deposits of copper, iron, or several types of not just valuable, but magical types of metal (not mithril, but also unusual and expensive things that cost hardly cheaper than gold). And the spirit begins to slowly and leisurely raise these deposits a little closer to the surface, making their extraction much easier. Where ten years ago you needed a deep and carefully designed mine adit with a lot of caves and reinforcement structures, which still had to be enchanted from collapses and other accidents, after the same ten years you can mine ore with the very minimum of effort and excavation. Plus the reserves will become scarce much slower because the spirit will continue to pull new fragments closer.

Apparently, it was the most powerful and difficult to create acquisition possible through the advantage of the system store, if not the Autogoddess's contrivances. Just trying to think of how hard it had been to summon such a spirit and then bend it to a task so atypical of subsurface entities made one feel sad at one's inferiority. Subsoil spirits are a priori against helping to extract valuable ores or laying mines, it is against their very nature, proud and insolent. Moreover, they also react extremely aggressively to the active use of geomancy or shamanism for the same purposes, so you have to either constantly guard against the attacks of such creatures, spending a lot of energy to fight their guerrilla against the "invaders", or to bother and chisel the stone with pickaxes or various techno-appliances with a minimum of magic. And still suffer from regular attacks from subterranean entities, albeit to a lesser extent. Shamans who speak to the subsoil, or mages of unusual specializations, which can somehow negotiate with such things not to organize a war of attrition, but to coexist peacefully, for their services probably charge so much that the textbook bargainer selling video cards would have a conscience, if that conscience was there.

And now the question.

What's the point of this bullshit, which will bring good if in a decade, to Stepan here and now?

The answer was absolutely correct: the honorable shaman and system user Stepan didn't need such a thing, just like he didn't need a personal copper or iron mine with a large output of raw materials. He would have been better off with something capable of throwing fireballs far over the horizon or something similar, rather than this disappointment. He felt surprisingly vile admitting it, but even the divine dildo was noticeably more useful. At least he could hammer nails with it, it was so strong, whereas the gift saucer of the miner's humiliation was also somewhat fragile. The only thing left to do was to put this thing under the bed, in company with the divine stockings, also wrapped in a piece of clean cloth. And then to work again, only now on the task put in the waiting line, wishing to increase one of the talents.

Stepan hadn't spent the two free points yet, simply because none of the things he planned to take for those points would help with the debt distribution. It would only make him spend half a day minimum to digest a block of information. Now, here, one could try and invest them, but he wanted to finish with the task at hand and act afterward. He hadn't forgotten that new talents appeared in the choices whenever the Status changed even a little bit. Here was the hope that after increasing the skill to create defensive arrays, some ultimatum-enhancing trick of almighty OPness would open up. It wasn't much of a hope, but there was really no rush now, and no reason to waste talents right away. So why not test his theory one more time?

He did not invent anything new. At least, at the current stage, he had only tweaked old ideas, uprooted the remnants of spiritual reflections and fragments of past calls, and put new billets in their place. The labyrinth was now a little more solid and a little more intricate due to the lessons learned from his first baptism of fire, a better selection of materials and calls, and a general improvement in development. The out-of-body skills were very helpful if one needed to alter-distort the reflection of material on the spiritual layer. A kind of incomplete and partial exit from the body, without breaking contact, but not in the body itself. The trick, which a shaman usually has to work on for a long time, was given to Stepan very quickly and naturally due to the transformation of the spirit. In fact, when he used his third hand, he was already releasing his spirit from the body without losing control over the body; he only lacked the skills he had acquired during the Deed to finally understand the principle and begin to apply it almost reflexively.

With such an approach, the restoration of the defensive array went even faster than expected, and he, this time, made all the elements fit together, without wasting time synchronizing the individual pieces of the defensive mechanism. Traps and wolf pits for spiritual entities were restored, the first and outer, and then the second barrier was put back in place. New pots were also ordered with no problems, though this time he had to pay for the full-fledged goods. He had already bought out the stuff that suited him personally, and Ryakt could not make simple pots to order because it was winter and the clay could not be extracted or processed properly. For this ritual, he needs a pot or other clay vessel, necessarily made by hand, and not with the help of magic molded, from the latter will fall quality, because the spirits need embodied in the material idea, not its imitation. So he had to buy out the potter's stock for sale, then with a slight regret to spoil and bury in the frozen ground beautifully painted dishes, in the sealed gut of which was already burning and smoking flame-bait.

In fact, the assignment was not so simple, even complex in many ways, but he did not apply anything really extraordinary, only well-studied and practiced techniques. A few individual additions, which really could be called novelties, rather than a repetition of the old defensive line, did not change the picture. The biggest change was an invisible but very sensitive spiritual network, for which it was necessary to summon a powerful spider spirit with the animal sphere and aspects of traps, ambushes, and deception to weave it. The thing reacted to attempts to break the shaman's hold over the territory and impose its own. In response, the net would wind itself around such a breaker, slowly and imperceptibly pumping him with an insidious and unpleasant poison, weakening and cutting off his nourishment from spiritual reality. Actually, the same bear, if caught in such a net, would not die, would not even lose much in power, but he is a bad example, an extremely unsuccessful one: you will have to find such an impenetrable shit. But Sucker's tricks, also connected with "territorial spiritual hacking", adjusting to another's power and disguising his influence in the shadow of that power.... such a net would have swaddled him and could have milked him dry, as he milked his victims.

Another innovation was a more advanced modification of the signaling nets because Stepan didn't like the fact he couldn't count the number of at least the strong spirits that came for his head at the crucial moment. For the new system, he had cast the necessary effects on the most ordinary stones, literally cobblestones, which could be found near any river with rocky banks. In truth, he could have picked up the pebbles at the river beach, but because of the winter and snowfall, it was cheaper to order them from the store. It was cheaper in terms of time, and the guy valued his time. The processed stones were plunged into the earth softened by the will of the shaman in a strict order, as if the knots at the intersection of the threads of the web that stretched underground, covered the entire territory of the protective array and a little outside it. Each of the stones could become a repeater and observation camera, allowing them to dramatically increase the quality of scanning in a particular area if desired. It would be much easier for the spirits to see, and there would be no need for them to risks since they could peer through the stone with one eye and one false leg.

It was not a complete upgrade and redesign of the scanning mechanisms, of course. He had not yet summoned any new spirits with the necessary specialties. This modification corrected the shortcomings of the past version, rather than changing the approach, but it was done quickly and with minimum expense. Even new contracts did not have to be signed: among those already available, even those who had not participated in the big fight. There were a couple of entities who could work very well with stones, change their reflection in the world of spirits, and do it quite subtly and invisibly. It worked out well, excellent even, with almost no drop-off in the schedule. Another assignment from the Autogoddess of little value, albeit with the offer of unlocking a random meta-skill, he just as habitually declined, immediately after familiarizing himself with it, to immediately get back to work. On one sunny winter day, when there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the frost made him breathless, the system deemed his commitment fulfilled.

Received: "advanced basic techniques for building defensive arrays".

The acquired talent is added to the overall Player status.

He put on warm clothes and sat down on a special pebble with a butt warmer, immersing into himself and digesting what the System had presented to him. Already at the initial familiarization, it became clear that he would be doomed to remake his clearing again, for new realities and discovered secrets. Well, or he will have to be tormented all the time by his desire to do everything as good as possible, whatever it all may be. Seriously, Stepan would not have thought of refusing the opportunity to usefully try out his talent and gain a lot of experience. Though he had vague doubts in the back of his mind that by the time the winter was over he could build such a thing here that it would be hard to take an ordinary shaman-disciple for an ordinary homemade shrine, even if drunk, blind, and after a blow on the head.

First of all, the new knowledge improved itself and here the difference between initial and better knowledge was visible. If in his base the talent revealed different ways to create a line of defense with the focus on existing knowledge and their synergy, combining disparate approaches so they did not interfere with each other. Now the situation was changing. In the current paradigm, he could not only combine, say, totems with classical shamanism and territorial curses, but he could also adjust individual elements to mutually reinforce parts of the whole. Yes, it was still only the beginning of the journey, a scratch on the surface of the ice iceberg hidden underwater, but still the first, second, and even the hundredth step had been taken.

The synergy with totems and territorial magic was just as evident as before, even stronger. He would definitely need to redo the barriers of repulsion and distraction from scratch, the current defense of this type does not stand up to any criticism, and now Stepan could not just better, but almost an order of magnitude better. To make this place really not findable without attracting high-level mages and shamans, and even without attracting attention even in the smallest way. An interesting variant of solving the problem with an uncharacteristically steep spell glade. So as not to dismantle the results of his labors, uninstalling with such effort built and with no less effort stood in hot battle totems and amulets. And so he can carefully hide everything, hide, lubricate, and leave it for the future, say, in case he has to return someday, and there will be ready support. To avert the remaining suspicions it is quite possible to create another field, much easier, just allowed for a talented and diligent student. Only, it is really important, it will be necessary to make sure that in the usual manner not to turn the "apprentice place for averting suspicions" into another toothy stronghold, from which even a pack of strong spirits with a lot of small things will not be able to throw off the owner. Or we'll have to make a third glade to avert suspicion from the suspicion being averted, yes.

Another important thing is the extremely useful mechanics of array interaction. And not quite defensive, but, so to speak, actively defensive, with techniques of remote control of spirits and attacks through these techniques. Totem support, prepared territory, merging all this into one array and all this under the exit from the body, to improve the understanding of the dialog and the range of the call: and Stepan would get a means for really tangible and really remote attacks or simply influences. This was complemented by very positive advances in accelerating the process of complex and simple calls, relying on the arrayed totems and assigned territory. As it turned out, he had even more work to do, and he had every chance to get another skill increase as soon as he finished applying the reinforcement he had already received and bringing his creation to perfection.

An endless cycle of magical labor, when each new peak opens new ways to become better, and achieving the ideal is possible only for a brief spurt until the next level-up or out-of-level promotion happens. Someone lazy would have howled with longing, but Stepan was only more impressed with this approach. He did not mind for the sake of one quick and sure victory, a graceful solution to an extremely dangerous situation, long, tedious, and hard to prepare the ground for this case. Pathos battles from the last forces, such as the one he was forced to conduct - it is always a consequence of his laziness, carelessness, and stupidity, or a very unfortunate coincidence of circumstances. And someone else's stupidity. We must not forget other people's stupidity, it can be scarier even than our own.

* * *

Stepan was already habitually thinking about great things in the middle of the night, in his bed, having returned from the clearing and successfully sent Meld who had brewed his first cold remedy using a magically active reagent, not just herbs, away. The boy honestly said he had been asked to do so by the father of a good comrade, a friend in his then still quite childish games. Who said you know all sorts of things there, you are taught by a magician, so help your friend. Meld was a responsive guy, but not stupid, and he was able to read the hidden between the words, but at the same time highlighted// "I DON'T WANT TO PAY, I WANT IT FREE, AND THAT I SHOULD BE OWNED A LOT MORE", and told his, so to speak, mentor about it. Stepan rated the cunningness of both the villager and Meld at ten out of ten, allowing the boy to brew a quite decent Blue Flower decoction - not even alchemy, just hermit's witchcraft, tied to the use of an already initially magical herb.

Apparently, the villager, by the way, the owner of the largest farm in Lyadya, with two good horses, six cows, and a fertile bull, knew exactly what he was asking for. However, of those who could make such a potion, no one would want to work for free. They will refuse at once and then demand even more for his insolence. There were a few in the village who knew a couple of recipes. To be fair, this approach was not even disrespectful to Stepan, according to the local mentality. Cunning-ass man, himself sniffing his nose every now and then (under the weight of snow a part of the roof of the cowshed had fallen through, the whole family had to fix it quickly before the cattle froze, and so they got cold), not from a magician venerable demanded free help, but steadily tricked an ordinary boy to "work for thanks".

The other thing was that it would have framed the guy, who would have taken a little bit of Blue Flower from Pann's stock, for a case for which a magician could have been paid. All this was like a sickle in the balls for a guy who understood the background perfectly well. Not even because they tried to twist and cheat him, but because of the attitude as if he were a stranger. No matter how hard Kirik tried to keep the situation under control, the boy, who had been deprived of custody, was already considered a useless element, on a par with kids, and kids don't get paid, they are grateful to their elders for shelter and food. The boy, who honestly worked as a servant for Pann, as well as officially still owning the house of his late uncle, even though there lived a temporarily settled magician, such an attitude pissed off.

Anyway, Stepan explained to him how to tweak the recipe properly. He even gave him a couple of grams of dried mushroom from the deep tropics, which reacted with the main reagent. No, such a thing cured colds and coughs even better. His friend would be helped. The problem was that this mushroom could not be mixed with any alcohol, and Vomziak and his older sons, who also had colds, loved to drink their moonshine, especially for dinner.

So those who don't get a drink are in no danger whatsoever.

But the cunning villager, if he, as usual, will drink some hard drink, as well as all those who drink with him, will start very poisonous and severe flatulence. It will last three days only if you do not drink for three days, and if you continue to drink a shot in the evening, the effect will last two or three decades, until the magic of mushrooms will not come out finally. And if he had any claims, he could say at once that his friend did not drink yet, it was too early for him, and they asked for a pot of decoction for him. How could he know that the whole family would drink that potion? Purb doesn't fart, does he? It was just a recipe his mentor had told him to improve, so by morning his good friend would be on his feet and ready to play snowballs with everyone. Who knew it would come out like this, huh? Not Meld, that's for sure. Stepan even warned him to make a poker face, otherwise his fun would be suspicious, and no one would believe Meld knew nothing.

The earthling restored social justice. Or rather, he did not interfere with the boy's restoration of social justice, since the whole idea belonged to him, even the toilet humor with flatulence - he just asked Stepan if there was such a herb to cause the worst farts until the whitewash fell off the walls - and the shaman just did not interfere with the flight of someone else's imagination. And then, when the boy, carefully holding the kettle floating in the cold air, went into the sunset, he began to work on his own development. He found the situation incredibly ironic. Here he was helping a small bully to make a fart elixir, solving a completely petty and stupid conflict. And here he was developing himself through an all-omnipotent System, thanks to which he could already be considered a very powerful shaman, capable of buying this whole village, or tearing it down to the ground, and even without much effort.

Stepan had solved the question of how to distribute the two free talent points long before he got another promotion from the quest, so he didn't think about it for long. He only looked over the Status with the active help once again and wrote down a few details in his system notebook, but he didn't change his opinion. It may not have been the right or smartest opinion, but it certainly couldn't be called rash. He had considered all the risks he could and found the pros outweighed the cons. However, he couldn't deny that his choice was not only rational and carefully prepared but also something personal.

The first thing Stepan did was to convert "advanced basic spiritual operation practice" into "advanced spiritual operation practice", which was again at the limit of development. Among all his skills, this was one of the most elite, requiring high scores in several characteristics at once, and therefore, despite regular and very persistent exercises in the use of the spiritual body, modifications of third hand, and even all the things he had done during the exit from the body, the skill frozen on the second grade did not go any further. And now, as soon as the accomplished feat in the opinion of the system - and his own, too, at least in terms of the difficulty of shoveling out of the shit - gave the young man three free characteristics, he was able to increase this skill. This particular talent, although it was a knowledge, worked with aura as well as with the spiritual body, therefore some aspects of it were perceived similarly to the system properties when rotated into the subtle body. It was not a very good feeling, but at the same time it paid off with the feeling of power filling the body and mind, the realization of a new brick to the stronghold of his perfection.

First of all, as soon as he was able to stand again, he tested his abilities to control the spiritual transformation and immediately began to smile contentedly. Not only had the third limb strengthened, becoming denser, larger, and easier to reconfigure, but it had also increased the area exposed from the body of the phantom something. Now he could actually claim in all seriousness that he had a wing from behind his shoulder and a third arm at once. The larger volume of matter allowed him to operate several limbs at once, and it turned out to be natural and confident, practiced and calm. There were new kinds of spirit configurations, reinforcing certain aspects, like flexibility, strength, piercing ability, and the like. Even the armor and protection of his ghostly arms, which he could bring to three, had been increased, but not by much. Spiritual flesh was still vulnerable unless deliberately protected with the right influences, infusing it with power and creating a kind of armor shell. His basic Resistance could only be increased if he increased that very characteristic, which, alas, for a shaman, was hardly on the last role.

The synergy of talents worked as well. Combat effectiveness improved. New tricks were incorporated into the combat bundles of the fighter shaman. Dialogue and out-of-body and out-of-body combat skills improved even more, summoning techniques expanded, and the delivery of offerings directly to the spirit world became easier. But more than anything else, the properties of working with the implantation of spirits in oneself have developed. The young man had been very free with this risky practice before, receiving much more from the spirits than if they were put into amulets and influenced the body and aura from the amulets. Now he had again taken another milestone, learned new tricks, and was sure that he could try to imbue himself with a strong spirit, on the level of the same lizard, just the most suitable for imbuing and joint actions. Not just to imbue, not just to achieve safety for himself and the ability to restrain the spirit, if he decided to do something weird, but also for some time to fight with such an entity inside him, using the advantages given by it. And such a hybrid of a shaman controlling himself and aware of everything, as well as a powerful spirit, just on the allocation and strengthening specializing ... He preferred not to go up against masters of combat magic before and would not now. But now he had a good chance of success in a fight or a very good chance of a successful escape. Especially if the rest of the retinue would also be around, there would be time for preparation and reinforcement, and it wouldn't hurt to cast a spell on himself. And also the master of combat magic to bind, drugged with alchemy, put on gift blockers, burn auric knots, cut off hands and feet, and then blinded. Then Stepan would definitely be able to do it, exactly like.

Work with totems, arrays, and witchcraft practices also improved. The new hands allowed him to directly influence the reflection of reality in the spirit world, which opened simply miraculous perspectives. The shaman didn't even doubt that if he set his mind to it and put in the effort and at least a couple weeks, his territorial magic would take rank too, it couldn't help but take rank. Many connections with other directions had improved, there were hints of using his spirit to heal wounds and remove curses, without the need to summon a helper, literally playing the role of a summoned entity with his intangible tentacles mending flesh and even a little thin body. It was the same with spells, up to the possibility of suppressing the will with a handshake and taking control over the body. Although, he had been able to do something similar before, but not so discreetly and without the possibility of actually using it to his advantage. Tantric practices... well, they had also grown considerably, not so much new tricks as improved mechanics for using old ones, so that he could heal or recover from sex even more effectively, as well as heal and recover himself. It doesn't even have to be life-giving sex, a simple massage can be done too, though not as effectively.

Only after he finished assimilating the first talent and suppressing the desire to go to bed and not touch the next one, Stepan began to invest the second and last available point. There were many options and thoughts, but he had already chosen and decided, even convinced himself of it. Earlier he had been increasing his skills in combat calls because he refused to recognize charms as his specialty. Now, after the gift for the deed, he had to admit that a stupid attempt to invest more in the opposite direction of development would be wrong, even erroneous. First of all, he wouldn't close the gap with one point anyway, and secondly, there was no terribly strong reason for him to increase his 'advanced practice of combat calls' to a maximum, because he had enough combat power and strong spirits as it was. Even that recent fight had been so difficult primarily because of its suddenness and lack of preparation. If he were given time and left alone now (and if he were to make the battle inevitable and the attempt to hide or escape impossible), he would, given the same inputs, summon a horde that would tear the enemy apart without any nerves at all, on pure superiority, albeit with reliance on totems and territory.

And that is why Stepan did not raise the combat direction. Mentally sighing, looking at two, though not elite, but unusual and more specialized knowledge, brought by the will of Princess Milsfoslavna to the top of development. He chose a recently upgraded knowledge he needed for his personal, even if a little noble purpose: "advanced practice of remote control of spiritual entities", raised from the advanced base. This time the assimilation of knowledge went even easier, not that habit, not that wicked excitement spurring Stepan's concentrated will. The distance of long-range control over the spirits grew not to say that much, but by twenty percent, which was not an increase worth spending talent for. But what had grown really seriously was the limit of the forces Stepan could channel through the relaying merger and synchronization with the spirit sent into the far distance.

In the past, remote control had consisted almost exclusively in the execution of a single technique, albeit with variations: resonance of one's own and the spirit's shells, use of the higher realms as a channel to transmit both reserve and pointing will, at the expense of a different understanding of distance in the spirit world. In many ways, the laying of such an energy channel was similar to the way his evacuation bracelets worked - distance was recognized as unimportant and insignificant, and the reality of the higher realms sagged under that view. Now it was as if the trick that had once been the only one had split into many subtypes, tied to methods, tactics, necessary specifications, and, of course, reliance on a place of power, on totems, on territory, and the ability to call outside the body. Even so, Stepan still could not, without preparation, roast the entire world, or at least a neighborhood into rubble while still in his clearing, but precisely without preparation. With precautions, with the right choice of ritual and call, with the right and very specific spirits, just for remote work designed ... in such circumstances, he could strike or otherwise affect no weaker than his usual self.

Yes, he'd have to rely on the clearing and put so much power into it that under normal circumstances, he'd get results far better than his usual self. But he was going to act from afar, directing his will to the first and only city he'd been to during his isekai. To the city where he was greeted so unkindly and escorted away even more unkindly. In the city where Rumorias, a respectable and decent adept of Artifacting and Necromancy from the young, but already noble and proud House of Krellb only saddened by the loss of his beloved son, continued to live, work, and enjoy his life, only without the prefix "de", but they were also working on it. They worked tirelessly, without days off, and without pity for the people around them, because why should they be pitied?

Stepan could tell he had planned all of this as an act of vengeance and justice for all those who had been turned by this family into blanks for necrotic artifacts. For bone wands and skull amulets, for amulets made of phalanges and divination plates made of neck vertebrae, for bloody elixirs and life force drained from agonizing victims. He could have, and he wouldn't have lied about it: the young man who had grown up in earthly conditions really believed that those who tainted themselves with such things belonged in the courtroom, or better at once in the electric chair. But, for lack of a court bench or a chair with voltage, and also because the argument "well, come and try to bring us there" is often applied to such guys, it is possible not to bother with the delivery, playing the role of prosecutor, lawyer and judge at once.

All of this was true and all of it played its part, but Stepan was quite aware of the fact that his revenge was not primarily for the multitude of dead gifted or simply slaves. Not for the violation of earthly and, perhaps, local laws. Though the local lawmakers must have known everything and turned a blind eye, his informant was eloquent and could not lie during interrogation. Not for fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, wives and husbands, who were waiting for him at home and did not wait for him. No, he took revenge, as he always did when he decided to take revenge, first of all for himself. Because there was a lot to say about Stepan, perhaps not only bad but also good but one thing even Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin recognized when he took his next hundred and fifty-fifth attempt to pass the ill-fated module.

Stepan was extremely pedantic about paying back his debts.

All debts.

* * *

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP