Готовый перевод Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 17-1

Chapter 17-1

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Stepan left the village without looking back. He turned it into ashes, first summoning the spirits of flame, then skillfully burning everything hiding in the fire traces of the battle and changes in the energy of the place. The flames weren't the most ordinary ones either. Specific spirits, in the essence of the flame, who had entered by the will of the shaman, burned the energetic and spiritual trace. It would be clear that something strange had happened here, even the weakest gifted person would feel the burned-out background, but it was still impossible to hide the traces of the battle. So the young man decided not to try to hide the fact of the event, wiping out all traces with maximum demonstrativeness. And he didn't want to remove the monument to the inhabitants of Bzdy, and it alone would give away the abnormality of this place like a parachute dragging behind a spy. The picture of his preparation was completed by the spirits of wind and smoke, which simply carried the smoke in parts to far distances so the column of cinders going into the sky was not visible, this column was not formed.

The young man, tired mentally and physically, went away with another teleport based on an air sphere. He literally scattered with a pile of small tornadoes and gathered six kilometers to the southwest, right next to the beacon prepared in advance and sent by the world of spirits. The only evacuator with sufficient stealth, range, and control even during the battle. Only one disadvantage, too, but a cross-cutting one: you have to stand completely still for at least five to seven minutes to activate the transference. After another trip through the spirit world in his own body, albeit under the cover of the spirit that was dragging him along, and after admiring his newly grown experience bar, he called to action a new group of concealers of trace and impressions and began to move away from the burning Bzds in a hurry. He didn't fear for the forest and the fire, knowing that the self-destructive and maximally impersonal circuit he'd prepared would keep the flames from spreading beyond its boundaries and that he'd wipe himself out in the flames.

The further path was extremely utilitarian and even routine. The shaman was not engaged in pumping or searching for new spirits, only summoning and renewing the contracts of concealing entities. The assignments were exclusively tiny, with penny rewards, and therefore, for the most part, rejected. Stepan did not see the need for those rewards and did not want to pull an extra load. Two new items from the System Store flashed by in passing, both of which he skipped without buying or bookmarking. A potion from the Autogoddess that caused a very rapid Source enhancement, ensuring that he, with his current stats, would reach at least twelve to fourteen units just by training, without regard to level-ups or other rewards, managing it in about a year to a year and a half. As a side effect, increased suggestibility, slightly increased vulnerability to charms, and permanent and unhealable in any way until at least twenty years have passed, a distortion in the aura that causes a near-trance and very docile state whenever after sex. The second item was not Autodivine, but also unnecessary. A reagent, again of the kind that was too valuable for an ordinary offering, but too heavy for Stepan to summon something for which such a reagent would be worth spending. A few grains of sand sealed in a tightly insulated flask, which was itself a relic, were literally filled with the elusive and all-pervasive power of Time. He had no one to sell such a thing to, as with all the other items, and he would simply not be able to use such a gift of the System properly.

Stepan stopped only when he came to another natural magical source, this time of light orientation with a mixture of aspects of nature. There he performed one more small task, which was to subdue a very territorial and aggressive spirit, which this source guarded from foreign claims, reliably subduing and binding it. Not forever. He didn't really need this spirit, who would lose much of his usefulness in separation from the source, but for the time Stepan was here. He took his time and covered the small clearing with flowers and shimmering glimmers of sunlight visible to the simple eye with protective amulets. Then he repeated the same thing but with masking amulets. Called a few guardian spirits, one more spirit, of the strong, which sheltered from unconventional methods of search on the spiritual imprint, and only then lit a fire with previously collected wood and began to fry sausages on that fire. The sausages, tasty, squirming on the flame and giving off an incredibly tantalizing aroma, were bought through the store and made from the meat of animals raised on a strong source. They were fed with special alchemy and conducted through the necessary rituals.

According to the descriptions, for the next couple of weeks, he was practically invulnerable to weak curses and mental influences, and could also go without eating for about the same amount of time without the slightest side effects or fatigue build-up. Then, having pleased his gluttony, the young man lay on a bedded cloak and passed out for a day and a half, simply sleeping through the whole time, without dreams, reveries, or nightmares. When Stepan woke up, he lay down for another half a day, until nightfall, staring at the starry sky and thinking about the fact that he was so tired of constantly getting into some extraordinary ass. Development remained put on hold. Quests forgotten. Even progression didn't really matter to him right now. He didn't even want to think and analyze everything that had happened, no, he just wanted to rest, to let himself tune in to his own condition and get ready for important decisions.

He didn't reach for Sylvia's doll, and he tried not to think about it too often, though it didn't work out so well. He'd shit himself phenomenally, of course, in every sense of the word except the most literal. Yes, he could say a lot of things in his defense, about the fact that the creature had begun to affect him almost as soon as his blood had spilled over its hiding place, feeding the bound prisoner and opening a pathway to his head. He could argue that he had been busy, that he had dealt with the enemy first, then the trio of hunters, and then assimilated the added knowledge and dealt with the deed. He could even admit to himself that he was very seriously and powerfully hurt, that the situation with the forced mass burial had gotten to his heart, that his morality had cracked when he had buried that pair of ghouls who had been killed by his own hand, who had turned out to be small children. After all, in normal situations, even after the massacre at the call clearing, he preferred to postpone promotions until the moment of maximum convenience, rather than rush headlong into the maelstrom.

But then it was he who was threatened with death, everything depended on him, he was saving himself, and he had to deal only with the enemy who had come for his life. To bury people who were not involved at all, who could not be saved, and who fell because the enemy of the shaman was too strong and prepared.... it was something completely different. So different, in fact, that he wanted to press the system message and immerse himself in absorbing knowledge, just to avoid remembering and thinking about this shit.

All of it, together and separately, affected him enough to make him forget his caution, to start making small and stupid mistakes, to get hooked. Then again, the vampiress herself was affecting him, pressing through his blood, shattering his confidence, and lowering his cognitive abilities. In a different situation, he probably would have reacted differently and started sweeping the village for traces at once, finding the captive as well. She would have been able to convince him not to kill her, but she certainly wouldn't have been able to get out of a very strong oath, a contract specific to working with bloodsuckers. In a different situation, things would have been different, but just the same, things might have stayed the same. Stepan was the kind of man who tried to learn from his own mistakes, and at least not fall for the same trick twice. But he wasn't in the habit of daydreaming about how smart and cool he would have been if he'd known everything in advance if he hadn't succumbed to a bad mood, and if he'd been twenty levels higher.

He had failed and made many small mistakes that added up to a big failure, which an experienced, cunning, and skillful creature with an extremely seductive body had managed to take advantage of, fucking the young man both figuratively and literally. Well, you can only shake your head, imagine what Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin would say to him on this failure, before sending him for a retest, and also rejoice that he was bewitched, subjugated, and fucked by a beautiful and luxurious, what can be said, woman, and not some pale-skinned handsome man with very progressive tastes. To be glad that he got out of that mess, and then to start doing everything he could to avoid repeating that very situation. After his encounter with Truda and her daughter, he seriously reworked his methods of detecting impurities in food and even the air, then paranoid methodically tested any food and drink taken from other people's hands. After Shera's lesson in the proper attitude to curses, he no longer allowed thoughts of freely dealing with his subtle bodies and allowing other people's energies into them, and strengthened his defenses against curses or other influences, even if they were divine miracles. Especially if it was about them.

Alas, but Sylvia Malter seemed to have used not something mediocre, but the best of her tricks, literally the strongest and most practiced trump card. Stepan had had time to look at her aura and memory through the doll. He knew that this bloodsucking and not only “blood” lady could influence consciousness in many ways. He knew that everything would have gone differently, if she had decided to use something else, or even to supplement with this other already existing blood connection. Her scarlet eyes could, in active mode, mesmerize and put him into a trance, but would only meet the spirits looking through his, Stepan's, eyes, provoke attack and anger at the perfidy used. Her voice might sound ingratiating and hypnotizing, but the shaman sheltered by the spirits of winds and meanings would easily filter every word, hear exactly what was needed and no more. The skill of the visions, something like classical mentalism mixed with the magic of illusions and curses, would stumble upon a single plural consciousness capable of controlling dozens or even more spirits at once, and once stumbled upon, this skill would crash like waves against a rocky shore.

Alas, Sylvia was a smart, cautious, and damnably experienced creature. She was well aware that any suspicion of her would lead to disruption and attack from her still-uncontrolled prey, so she didn't use anything else. Only blood, only power over it and the one who gave it to her. Stepan looked for a way to repel such a move with his own forces under the same conditions and found none. He needed to either be aware of the impact, not waste time in internalizing the knowledge or simply not spill his blood for her. In the current state, not knowing about the attack, and even presenting the most perfect possible mediator of influence... no, it was too late to do anything. Which meant only one thing - he had to rebuild the concept of mind defense again, for the umpteenth time. On the one hand, he was glad that he, a failed and captured enemy, was not killed on the spot, but on the other hand, the fact that in this world all sorts of beauties are trying to fuck an isekai right in the brains was a little tense. Or not a little. Tense, yes. It made him think. Not good ones.

However, thoughts are for thinkers, but he is by nature a pure practitioner. So he intends to correct his weaknesses by practical actions, not to let a humiliating and deadly situation repeat itself. Certainly not the same situation. There were a lot of options for defense. Even more were invented, but the problem, as always, was with the embodiment of the plan. It would be desirable, of course, to create a kind of system guardian, which would track any, even the smallest changes in his mind and, in case of alarm, will instantly clean the mind, roll back the impact, and would also transport Stepan several kilometers away from the danger of being mentally compromised. Alas, it's not that all this is completely impossible, there are ways, and if not, they will appear with further pumping. The problem is that such a large-scale and powerful defense will not be used all the time. Aura will get tired, forced to be in constant tension, powerful spirits on the most brutal contract, monitoring the integrity of gray matter, will begin to negatively affect the spirit of the shaman, if they are really powerful. You can't, you just can't stuff yourself into a completely impenetrable cocoon for too long.

But that doesn't mean you can't try, does it? Instead of something monolithic and absolute, and therefore absolutely impossible, it is worthwhile to approach it from the other side, to remember that back on Earth it was customary to eat the elephant in small pieces. To select defense modules for a specific impact, to regularly change this defense properly, to adjust it to the conditions of the situation and the possible enemy - nothing is impossible even at the current level. This works not only with mental defense but with any other kind of defense. It's just that brain defense is the most problematic and demanding because you can't just put your brain in absolute stasis, otherwise you won't be able to think. That's why, creating a rough plan for the upcoming changes of defense contracts, Stepan divided these defenses into groups - tracking the impact, early warning, blocking hard blows, putting obstacles for weak and gradual blows, complicating the reading of the aura, and mental body, finding the key through this defense, regular reshuffling of defense layers, disguising the defense as less complex. He had time to think about a lot of things, and even though Stepan couldn't do everything right off the bat, he made notes and plans, entered them into his system notebook, and was determined to put them into practice.

Later.

Because at this point, he was fully prepared for a much more important and even momentous action. The choice of specialization of the main class. After stretching, drinking water, eating porridge made from the bought and still miraculously survived cereal, and looking at the indifferent heavens, the young man resolutely looked into the depths of his essence and pressed the corresponding image, initiating the choice of the subclass. He was very much afraid that this choice would become automatic because his most developed side was and still was precisely charming bullshit mixed with vulgar brainiac tricks - all by the will of auto-divine gifts. To his deepest moral satisfaction, the choice was not automatic, but the chooser himself was given several options. Stepan was lying relaxed on a bed of insulated cloak, laid on top of loosened and dry earth, drinking a fruit cocktail. In fact, it was alchemical, strengthening auric nodes, but the main reagent was exactly that magic fruit, and there were no side properties. Time after time he utilizes the reference, trying not to miss a single moment, not a crumb of information.

There were six options in total, which, from the shaman's point of view, was not just good, but even excellent. He was afraid that this option would be the only one. And all six options, even the one offered by the Autogoddess herself, were at least not bad, and even good, excellent even. Thoughts were spinning in circles. The help had not revealed anything new for a long time, and the shaman continued to think intensely, choosing, pondering, changing his mind, and coming back to the same one again. His choices were much harder this time than they had been on the very first day of the hit. He didn't understand much then, so he just chose the one that seemed the most suitable for him. However, he had rejected a special class specifically for the other Stepan. And the longer one lives in this world, even survives, the more often and more persistently one thinks that the world deserves its Fatty.

The first option was “Spirit Caster”, an advanced version of an ordinary, albeit senior, shaman, which was firmly and qualitatively connected with witchcraft practices. Choosing this direction would automatically increase his main witch skill, that is, working with the territory, by one point and additionally open some other, also specific witch-shaman block of knowledge, and at once at the level of advanced base. In addition, will be added one witch property, which will not give characteristics, but, otherwise, will be only slightly inferior to elite properties for levels divisible by ten. Reduced requirements in the characteristics to pump witch skills, will open whole groups of previously hidden talents, which can be safely pumped in normal mode. To all of this will be added one random witch's minor knowledge, and if it becomes the caliber of “locking paths”, it is already very good.

The main thrust of this class modification is just honed in on a combination of witchcraft, territorial magic, and classic shamanism, but shamanism obviously still comes first. The reduced requirements for witch knowledge and properties are certainly welcome, but it's not directly that great. He'll just be able to bring witchcraft to advanced proficiency, much like shamanic calls, with all the same characteristics. In fact, this subclass simply puts shamanism and witchcraft on the same level, with the prospect of either balancing the importance of both or leaving shamanism behind and moving on to witchcraft altogether. Given the fact that his most powerful attack is personal, and not through a summoned entity and that it relates to witchcraft in no small measure, the power of this direction is understandable. Yes, witchcraft is sluggish. Unless we are talking about something from the category of minor knowledge hammered to the maximum skill. It takes a long time to harness. It is demanding to the conditions of cast and costly to reserve if those conditions are not observed. In defense, again, it often slips, especially in the early stages and without the ability to lean on its territory. But it is also extremely flexible. Its attacks are difficult to repel, and if you have that very support and long training, you can do wonders, producing a level that high and refined classical magic with comparable strengths can not achieve.

It could not, obviously, do without the disadvantages of this choice. First, Stepan will have to properly invest in another direction, instead of deepening shamanism. This isn't a bad thing, because the synergy of knowledge isn't going anywhere, but for a while, before he develops witchcraft, the increase in levels won't enhance it as much as it could before. That wouldn't be a problem, though, because he'd already reached the limit of his characteristics in the main branches anyway. He'd have to choose a new direction. How is witchcraft worse than others? This is where the second thing comes in. Witchcraft is almost always very territorial, and the root skill of this direction, thanks to which Stepan got access to this subclass, is completely tied to the territory. This is a constraint and limitation, because without the ability to create a place of power, witchcraft practice loses a lot, becoming more of a nice bonus than the basis of power. Of course, he had already created a place of power for himself with his own hands, even if not literally, but it was one thing to create such a structure near a small village, and quite another to work near a large city where he wanted to move.

What's also important here is that a totem clearing can be quite compact, even if it's treated with territorial magic, but a witch's bond with earth control... covers a lot more territory. For those who can look, it shines noticeably brighter. Agent work allows you to hide the capture of territory, to blur the presence of your will into a ghostly haze that you can't find unless you look specifically, but it's still a problem. A problem that can be partially or even completely solved by investing a talent or two in agent methods, but the fact itself cannot be ignored. There were other obstacles and other bottlenecks, but they were just trifles, which are not difficult to overcome by methodical work or banal training.

“Caller of Spirits” offered even more, but demanded no less. This subclass specialized in summoning and treaties with very powerful entities, focusing not on a crowd of small and strong spirits properly selected and reinforcing each other, but on powerful elders or even higher spirits. The cap for spiritual dialog was lowered, allowing you to move up a rank before time, one shamanic property of the pre-elite type was added, one additional knowledge tied to working with strong entities, and work with contracts was increased by two points at once. As a bonus, two random minor knowledge contracts with elder entities, and full contracts, not like the gifts of Her Malfness. However, the latter was not surprising, because contractual interaction was almost the root of specialization.

Yes, this choice opened up quite real prospects to summon even the highest spirits even before becoming a master-higher himself, but the fee for such a thing also increased, and the rate itself increased. As every erudite gifted person knows, in a usual situation a shaman, as an archetype, speaks with spirits from the position of an equal, holding a bargain. Yes, it happens in different ways. Someone can be kicked to work, paying with the fact that he will not be killed. Some will have to give you what you've asked for, and some may cheat you out by putting you to death or trying to eat you while you're bargaining. When choosing the specialization “Caller”, obviously, the shaman will have to yield much more strongly, not as an equal with an equal, but falling into a subordinate position, even if the degree of that subordination is very variable.

The subclass emphasizes that the deals made impose on the shaman reciprocal obligations, regular sacrifices, certain tasks in the spiritual reflection of the higher realms, and so on. For example, every few moons it will be necessary to go on a deep raid through the spiritual world, supporting the spirits of allied aspects or destroying those whose aspects the patron-high does not like. All sorts of rituals, certain types of calls, various concessions, prohibitions, or mandatory actions for specific situations. It's not yet priesthood as such, rather like a contract job, where the office clerk of a rich uncle is the shaman himself, not his spirit. In payment for the same opportunity to call as a higher entity in case of dire need which is comparable if not to the request to strike a radioactive yaoi, then with the call of the attack squad of missile carriers from the deck of the nearest aircraft carrier. We should also not forget about access to the summons of a considerable number of smaller entities allied in terms of aspects and spheres, which will go to the shaman's call with much greater willingness, almost without requiring payment.

With the same Old Root, a mutual agreement of respect is almost guaranteed. Even in spite of the dark and nasty nature of the supreme spirit of dark nature. But it is much more difficult to break such contracts, even after paying all the penalties. Especially taking into account Stepan's mania to take as little responsibility as possible and to pay for all possible support in advance, knowing in advance what he can and cannot afford in case of need. It was probably the most unsuitable option for an earthling, even if it was not to sign a contract with a terrible shit, but with an entity of a kinder and calmer nature. He, thank the admins and the system, knew perfectly well what the higher spirits were, how different and alien they were, to get into a network of obligations in their respect, even if those obligations were three hundred times mutual.

“Passion Camlock”, as it is easy to guess just by the name of the subclass, appeared in the list of options by the labors of one Greatest Milf and it was, in fact, not so bad as it might seem. Automatic increase of charms, suggestion, and puppetry by one rank, pre-elite property as a gift, lowering the threshold for charms and suggestion with the ability to raise them above the advanced master level on the current characteristics. As a bonus from Her personally, five small contracts knowledge to senior spirits, and those senior spirits had a very broad scope of the contract, albeit one that necessarily involved vulgarities and brainwashing beautiful women. As a very special gift - another small knowledge with the contract of the senior spirits, albeit also all the same direction. The description of the subclass was completed by new branches of talents, unlocking some of the branches of the old ones, and increasing the effectiveness of the charm practices in general.

In fact, despite the grimace on Stepan's face, it was not a bad option or path. There was even a certain concept that required a focus on illusions, and mind blows, as well as minimizing direct combat contact. Pick a target, pick the keys to the defense, open the defense, and hit the target. You can not even lewdly, but just to death because the same curses will also reduce the requirement for stats to pump. In principle, if it weren't for his personal preferences, as well as the annoying tendency to find himself face-to-face with the enemy, he might have given it some serious thought. A quiet, calm, methodical, and gradual approach was not alien to Stepan, and he would have preferred to gain levels in this way or, if necessary, to eliminate his enemies. But in terms of combat, this kind of training would not strengthen him at all, though it would not weaken him either, and the masters of climbing into other people's heads and hearts have a well-deserved reputation, and everyone around them does not mind to slap them in the face.

He was much more interested in the subclass, the images of which were formed not only in the “Comprehending Spirit”, or “Spiritual Master”, for this direction opened a lot of interesting prospects. Automatically increased “spiritual operation”. The restrictions were removed from it, allowing one to pump it up a bit more right after the promotion: not an advanced skill, of course, but still very tempting. No less tempting was the discovery of another knowledge from the branch of controlling one's own spirit in the moments of calls and interactions with other entities. Also with the promotion to the advanced base. Complementing this was the promise to improve one of the current properties, namely “spiritual transformation”, although not adding stats, but improving control over modifying the spiritual body, expanding this control and modifying it in every way possible. In addition to this, another minor knowledge of a random type, as well as lowering the characteristic limit on those skills that deal with out-of-body travel and methods of fighting spirits in their native habitat.

The subclass, in fact, emphasized working with one's own spirit in and out of the body, as well as working with the indwelling of other entities within oneself, which were in many ways reflections of the same approach. This subclass promised a very serious power boost for direct face-to-face conflict. Now that he had been in a few trouble, he was no longer categorically negative about this approach. Practice had shown that it was not enough just not to plan to fight with someone, others needed not to want to fight with you. However, “Comprehending” was not only good for fighting. It also accelerated the work with the remaking of his spirit, allowed you to interact with the spheres and travel through them better, as well as, importantly, did not cut off the existing directions. Stepan wouldn't mind being able to fight off strong spirits himself or put a senior spirit inside himself to use it to tear his enemies' asses on the British flag.

No, except for jokes, if he could work so fully with the indwelling, to easily withstand the neighborhood with a specialized senior spirit, specializing specifically on fighting in the body of a shaman, then the fight with vampires had all chances to go very differently and certainly, the small loli would not be able to open him like a fish with one swing of her blade. It requires reserve, diligence, and self-control, as well as control in general - you can hand over the task to the spirits and not worry about it, but then why transform yourself so deeply?

An honorable fifth on the list was the introduction of the Master of Totems. If you summarize its imagery as much as possible it promises at once a dual increase in totem mastery, a boost in one rank of puppetry, territorial magic and working with sources, and another property, as in past cases, pre-elite. On top of that are two random minor knowledge from the specialization branch and a general reduction in the upgrade requirements for a number of talents. A direction from the ones that offer quite a few, yet are almost immediately rejected after realizing exactly what they offer. The lion's share of the strengths of this subclass are revealed only after you bind yourself to a single place that will be the backbone of your power, and this binding is even tighter than that of the Spirit Caster!

Working with totems, envolts, territory, and magical sources was at the top of the list in this case, allowing you to turn yourself into a nightmare, even if not too mobile. On the other hand, why such mobility, if with sufficient support you can safely take and start hitting even on another continent, even on the guest who came to the gates of the private house? Distant influences did not increase when taking the subclass directly, but the limit of their development also increased, and the requirements decreased, so bring the knowledge to the level of mastery, create the necessary configuration of totems-lenses, and shoot over the horizon, right until the enemy is not over. The transformation is not just a rocket launcher, but an entire military base, which can neither be pulled down, nor moved, nor even frightened, unless you apply much more strength than a lone shaman has at all.

The disadvantage, as usual, stems from the advantages. The strictest attachment to the territory, at the level when outside of it you become stupidly weak, is not necessary, but without it, most of the bonuses from such tactics become homeopathic. Maybe, if Stepan had the opportunity to buy himself some magic tower on a large and ancient source of magic, he would not refuse such pumping. But, alas, the world today is such that to buy himself a tower will not work, not for money or not for their own, but those who want to take this money will run from the door and to the horizon. The only thing that remains is to try to squeeze the place of power, well, force, but even if this happens, there will come those who will say their weighty “no fucking messing around here”, and already with them earthman can not cope with so far. It is possible, of course, to enter society, to take someone's position, to gain the support of the tower owner's enemies, to intrigue like a Machiavelli-reading politician, but, to tell the truth, it is easier to try to find a wild source, to destroy or subdue its keepers, and then to build a new city there by his efforts.

The last, sixth, section of this attraction of unheard-of generosity was “Talented Senior Shaman”, which embodied the most universal approach possible. It increased four random knowledge, gave two more random small knowledge, reduced the characteristic requirements for all talents by two or three characteristics, increased the overall affinity with high spheres, and did a lot of other small useful things. In fact, this subclass simply improved the existing one, without any clear distortions in development, without requiring special approaches or radical changes in tactics. The young man was absolutely sure that this subclass would be offered to him in any situation, no matter what talents he developed.

However, this choice, which Stepan had been looking through the reference longer than any other, was not as good as it might seem. It did not give cardinal improvements, all its bonuses remained not very large, small, or useful, but limited. If Stepan didn't want to change anything in his development, if he thought that he was developing himself perfectly well as it was, then this was the subclass he would have chosen without a second thought. Alas, he couldn't say such a thing about himself without twisting his soul, but there was no objective reason to put aside such a good option.

"All right, all right, let's go by the method of exclusion, shall we?" The young man, feeling like a donkey from a parable, muttered, “We'll choose not what we want, but what we don't want."

And the first such option, even ahead of the Autodivine direction, was ++“Caller”, simply because of the excessive density of contacts and obligations that will have to hang on themselves. Yes, to receive a number of useful and necessary calls is great. Open the way to work with the higher spirits, while remaining just a senior shaman? That's great! Getting analogs of sphere marks, only customized for a specific retinue of a particular spirit of a particular type and sphere? Also not bad. But for all this will have to pay, to answer for the gift, essence, and soul, and such responsibility is not for Stepan. He's still young, call an adult. No, if you put aside the jokes, the subclass is very good, if the young man was a local shaman, without a system and prospects, he could well think about it, to look for an entity lighter and not particularly hungry for human flesh. But, having all the opportunities to reach the level when you talk to the higher ones from the position of more or less equal, it is foolish to leave such a path for the sake of immediate profit, especially if the entrance costs a penny, and the exit will cost a suitcase full of green papers.

The second option discarded was, amazingly enough, the Caller of Passions, and not because it was a choice that would please Her Milfiness. May it have improved his opinion of her. Let her have saved his if not his life, then his personal freedom, but it was the only option that didn't suit him at all. Too specific an approach to development, relying on those spirits, which are difficult to imagine in battle or other useful activities. Yes, these spirits will help to hide and not be found, but hiding alone will not work, and the moral issue remains quite active. To seriously and thoroughly pump up within the subclass, one would have to work at least some profile, and this profile is not to Stepan's liking to the extent that it would be better to switch to hand-to-hand combat and beat enemies with boots on the teeth.

In the third place, the shaman refused the “Master of Totems”. The young man thought about this option for a really long time, but, having finished thinking about it, he crossed out the option without any doubts. All this time he avoided those types of influences and calls that would bind him to a certain place. He saw no reason to change his plans now. Looking around and realizing that there was no elf queen with big breasts who would offer him a piece of land in the elven lands, access to a strong source, personal practice, patronage, and other “rice bowl plus cat-wife”, he sighed sorrowfully at such injustice and crossed the option off the list of interesting ones. It was simply stupid to agree to anything less and start binding. And no one would give him what he wanted without putting a collar around his neck, even if it was soft and had a lot of rhinestones.

After much deliberation, and not without a squeak of his greed, Stepan rejected ++Talented. It was a very middle-of-the-road choice that gave nothing but a one-time boost with a few random bits of knowledge. He could achieve such a thing on his own in just a few months of practice, and lowering the requirements for the same spirit from twenty-two units to nineteen was still ridiculous. He still had to pump and pump his magic muscle to nineteen. If this subclass had allowed him to choose one or two talents where the requirements were reduced in a really significant way, he would have grabbed the option with all his limbs. But if his grandmother had a dick, she would have turned out to be a disguised grandfather or just a gender non-binary person.
Если бы у бабушки

So Stepan was left with two options, each of which was quite suitable for him, but at the same time quite specific: “The Caster” and “The Spiritual Master”. Well, or decide by tossing a coin, if you have something to toss. The young man had time to cook dinner once more, to reject in passing a minor task from the Autogoddess, to gather herbs growing around the source, to meditate on the source, to renew a couple of contracts, to conclude a couple more, to summon a too brazen spirit, which tried to chew off a piece of Stepan's face and aura, to disembodied that spirit with a blow of the protective circuit and a flock of pre-called defenders.... a lot of things, in short. The decision was hard, but evil and heartless logic came to the rescue.

The Witchcraft direction was good for everyone, even well-pumped already, but required binding to the area and some problems with camouflage. All of this could be overcome quite successfully, that was a fact, but at the same time, the second of the remaining subclasses had no particular problems at all. Again, let him involuntarily forget about spiritual travel, but only for the time of travel, but when he settles down again, he immediately starts resuming this practice, very useful for a shaman. This decision was made, Stepan took a nap, meditated, had a snack prepared himself morally, and then pressed the appropriate image, accepting it - the whole and to the end. Since he was ready and collected, the process of acceptance and getting under such a familiar wave of information wave went noticeably easier, and calmer.

The first to rise was the root for the subclass “advanced practice of spiritual operation”, having reached advanced development, opening previously either unknown or inaccessible facets. Working with one's own spirit at the level when one no longer creates claws and tentacles, but a web of fine threads. Methods of transition from form to form, countering blows to the spiritual basis. He could now literally shed pieces of his spiritual body like a lizard sheds its tail to deceive even extremely serious spells cast on spiritual bodies. Now he is quite capable of healing the damage he has received quickly and without repercussions, without suffering serious injuries that would knock him out of action for a long time. The number of available working limbs has increased, and it is now possible to calmly and confidently support several additional claw tentacles without losing concentration.

The synergy with the “methods of spiritual wandering” made it much easier to get out of his body and back into it, much easier to do his favorite trick of partially leaving the meat shell and taking control of it. It became easier to manipulate the spirit body directly, to give it arbitrary shapes, to simply let it out over the body of the ordinary as a kind of shell. Not protective, no, but helping to heighten sensitivity, to catch a curse on an area or thing, to subdue a magical source, or to deepen one's control over it. It will be even easier to use your spirit in combat, primarily against other spiritual entities of course, but against material opponents as well. In the battle with the vampires, he hadn't risked releasing his claws, the pretty loli would quickly strip him of his extra limbs. Now, now he could count on throwing a couple of punches and kicks from beneath the protection of the anteroom without getting himself mangled in the same instant.

The connection with combat skills revealed a significant number of methods of using knowledge in direct conflict, since many opponents, even quite experienced ones, would not expect from a seemingly ordinary shaman a spiritual transformation, which borders on spiritual chimerization but is natural and not the result of some ritual. The sensitivity to spiritual images has increased, positively affecting the dialog, and call too, the distance of control of spirits has grown even stronger, as well as the degree of pumping of forces to this distance - a more flexible and controlled spiritual body is easier to conduct force and more resistant to the conducting resonance. Totems are easier to control without the need for concentration. So it is now possible to activate the desired images and orders by literally touching the surface of the item with a spiritual claw or paw. Working with territories will also become easier, and new facets of working with one's spirit and its influence on the reflection of spheres in this or that order will be revealed.

Charms and suggestions, of course, were not ignored, finally bringing the shaman to the level where he could brainwash at the level of a strong and experienced adept of mentalism or charms magic, even without using summoned spirits, only with his own powers. By repeating after his spirits, up to and including the strongest spirits, he could rewrite brains in almost any way he wanted, and he would be able to achieve each result in several separate ways. As a bonus, he would have a much easier time with interrogations, live lie reading, and creating one-off agents out of poor people. The masking of his own aura and subtle bodies, as well as the degree of control of the Shroud also increased allowing him to handle gift property quite freely. Now he could repeat with the shroud a few of the tricks that before he was able to use only outside the body. Outside of these limits, respectively, he could even more, but it is already worth checking more tightly and a little later, as he will be able to get out of the captivity of the flesh to breathe fresh ether streams.

It will become easier to tear contracts out of oneself or someone else, many ways of circumventing or cheating oaths will be revealed, for the knowledge of which one will be ready to kill, but there will be little use in that killing. The whole secret is in the flexibility of spiritual bodies, which allows you to literally flow out of the cage of imposed conditions, without leaving a shred of aura on it. Well, figuratively speaking. There are different ways of fixing the vow, not all of them will be helped by this method, but the possibility of accelerated recovery from damage to the spiritual body will work against them. Other contracts can be deceived so that they are still considered unbroken during scanning, although, it should be recognized that really serious billets cannot be outsmarted in such a way, as well as normal scanning cannot be deceived. The other thing is a cursory check, and sometimes a couple of minutes of someone else's looseness will be enough.

The next knowledge increased almost immediately. Stepan didn't even need a few minutes of rest. Good training, meditation, a couple of soft potions from the system store, and a connection to the source allowed him to stay fresh. The casual knowledge within the specialization of the class, improved immediately to an advanced base beckoned the young man, and beckoned strongly. Operating, the main subclass talent, was by no means ordinary, elite to a degree greater than the same charms, even than remote control.

Received: 'basic methods of controlled spiritual indwelling'; 'advanced basic methods of controlled spiritual indwelling'.

The acquired talent is added to the overall Player Status.

He'd never used it much before, though he was constantly using it at certain moments, strengthening himself, speeding up when needed, getting rid of fatigue, and even helping himself in battle. But, apparently, to fully understand and acquire this knowledge, it was necessary to engage in such training more regularly and actively. Well, or seriously rely on the indwelling in a deadly dangerous battle, in which you can die if you screw up. Stepan did neither of these things, but in his defense, it could be remembered that the local twenty-four hours were a little more than twenty-four hours, but not so much that one could find time and reserves for all types of training. Moral, physical, and magical reserves - indwelling does not eat up the source's reserves that much, especially in the initial and not too-active phases, but when actively using the abilities granted by the indwelling spirit, you start to get tired and melt your brains even sooner than the reserve shows the bottom.

With the new knowledge, this problem could be avoided, as well as many others. The root, the basis of the knowledge was the ability to use the subconsciousness normally in the extremely active phase, to go into the afterburner, using the abilities given by the spirit, but at the same time not to lose control neither over himself, nor over the flows of energies inside the subtle bodies, nor over the spirit, which might not even rebel, but simply act within the limits of its reasoning. This alone would have been enough to spend two talent points on this knowledge, had it been available on the free choice list. This knowledge alone took Stepan's medium close-range combat abilities to a whole new frontier. He still wouldn't risk a close encounter with a gothic bloodsucking lolka or her parental lover. No, he wasn't a moron. But if it did happen, he would have a chance to hold on for a while, to surprise his opponent by the very fact that he could keep up the pace at their level, and then to break the distance and hide behind his shields again. However, this is subject to the presence of the appropriate planted spirit and time to summon, instill, adapt, and boost synchronization.

Then came the synergies, and they were no less beautiful than the skill base, making him drool while wishing he could afford to stay near this source for a month or two to experiment properly. In the first place, he could now combine the spirit body and spirit transmutation, all those tentacles and claws, literally binding the transplanted spirit to himself and letting him use the transmutation properly. Create your own spirit paws, wings, tails, and other fanged jaws. No problem! Cover the entire body with a layer of spiritual armor, as if to manifest around the body of the ordinary body another body, but already spiritual? You can, and this armor-protection will have a resistance coefficient not in one, like Stepan, but more, exactly as a planted spirit! And even more successfully fixed in the body and therefore almost immune to exorcism practices, except for very specific and sharpened specifically against such a trick or just very strong, at least at the level of a master, but better still, even higher.

His combat mastery, as well as the practice of calls with a combat bias, suddenly became much richer in terms of the use of repopulation. Where before it was a situational skill, which was much more competently applied either in advance or at all on some poor person through his puppet, now.... let's say, now it makes sense to plant in yourself something strong and dangerous, but carefully controlled, even in a battle against an opponent of equal strength and knowledge. Agents' skills added not so much to the trickery and framing, though not without them, but to the ability to hide the fact of planting in yourself from scanning or scrutiny. And yes, the shroud is not a panacea. Even if the aura is perfectly fine, it would be hard to miss the fact that the body temperature of an ordinary passerby over fifty degrees, nails sharpened, the pupils of the eyes became vertical, and the hair blows in the non-existent wind. Such things, both noticeable and not so noticeable, a keen eye could and should have noted, while Stepan would have been obliged to hide or disguise these very trifles.

Healing himself with the indwelled spirits, removing curses with the same means, and creating a guardian-observer of the state of mind inside himself, which will be able to react to the threat to the brain or too uncharacteristically changing thinking. Here Stepan, remembering the recent disgrace, immediately made a stand. Well, if he would be summoned and hooked at the moment of that threat because it would be impossible to walk in such contact all the time. The aura, the subtle body, and the spiritual entity would get tired. Many ways to ensure the transition through the world of spirits, when the spirit will drag the body after himself and then carefully pull this body back. Methods of planting an allied entity not in a physical body, but in a spiritual one, for the sake of protection during out-of-body travel. A kind of bodyguard, like his jellyfish, only now they would be with the summoner at all times, literally inside him, intercepting control if necessary.

You can also implant a spirit in your own body, left and dumped, but, of course, on a very strict contract and under tight control. Crawls in suddenly some assassin cunning to cut the throat of the shaman while he is in the world of spirits, and the body suddenly opens eyes, and tears off the brazen assassin's legs up to the neck. For some reason at that moment, Stepan imagined a cross-shaped pupil, which sent shivers down his spine, though he did not understand where this image came from and what it meant. It was a risky approach, and the spirit might try to cheat him out of his contract and possible penalties: it was a very tempting prize. The body of an elder shaman, which you can try to make your own. And may not deceive, but simply foolish, wrong movement to cause harm to the bones and guts, wrong sorcery to damage the auric nodes, but for this, you just need to pick the right spirit, experienced and able to walk in the bodies of shamans and even cast their spiritual tricks.

The methods of suggestion and bewitchment, strange as it may seem, can also be used in this way. But then Stepan would have to let in specialists to work with other people's brains and feelings. It's very amusing, indeed, but caution in such an approach is even more necessary than in the case of a simple battle entity. Still, the one who can, sitting in your body, brainwash some beauty on the topic of the usefulness of sexual slavery in the subjugation of isekai, may well try to convince the isekai of the usefulness of self-sacrifice of all himself to the power of such a useful spirit. It is, as they say, two sides of the same coin, and therefore, if Stepan has to do something similar, he will prefer to use classical appeals or his own forces through spiritual operation.

It took a long time to learn all the little tricks and details, but the Earthman did not follow its progress, only constantly checking that his body did not get stiff or dehydrated. Sweaty clothes could not be replaced by fresh ones for obvious reasons, but the cleaning by the forces of summoned spirits helped, as well as the constantly operating “air conditioner” quietly giving the cold in those moments when the shaman was thrown into a fever. But that was over too, leaving the last of the knowledge that should have come to him for his class specialization, and that knowledge was minor.

Received: “exile from the reality.”

The acquired talent is added to the overall Player Status.

Again a very specific attack, now based on the shamanic approach. But without direct summoning of strong spirits. And again an attack of the kind needed to fight a single and dangerous opponent, not a crowd of weaklings. Just like last time, Stepan didn't mind this arrangement, because he had enough weapons to kill the weaklings. However, like last time, he would prefer another shield rather than a sword. But here one should not look a gift camel in the teeth. Minor knowledge itself was weaker than ++locking the paths, he could not argue with that but it consumed a much smaller share of his reserve, and it played on principles that made it very useful against those who would not be affected by ++locking. The same vampire in charge could be surprised, surprised to the point of losing his undead status and becoming a regular corpse.

In spite of the name, it was not an exorcism against any kind of spirit-type stuff to send it home. Stepan had conducted such things without a little knowledge. No, it was not the spirits who were the original inhabitants of these high spheres that were expelled from the material world to the spiritual world, but just the opposite. In the sense that the material enemy, or just something alien to the world of spirits, like a demon or ghostly undead, which has not even begun the transition to the spirit from the sphere of death, kicked out into the spiritual world. Being unprepared for this and not knowing how to navigate in such conditions, like a shaman. Of course, even a classical magician, if he fell into the spiritual world somehow, instinctively, using his own aura and gift, will be able to start pressing on reality from the underside, reflexively pushing himself back. And this is not counting quite working methods, which can be professionally trained and practiced in training, from which they are times and orders of magnitude superior to instinctive floundering. But this is if such attempts are not prevented, breaking them, cutting them off at the root, and not even allowing them to start counteraction.

The trick took its origin in the indwelling of the spirit, combined with the spiritual operation and those sections of the spiritual dialog, which were responsible for the subjugation and breaking of the will of the summoned entity. The shaman merged with a small spirit, and not any, it is desirable to choose special aspects and spheres, connected with Paths, Space, and Direction, merging their spiritual bodies, literally opening the poor entity, dissecting it, removing all the superfluous and filling the rest with his spiritual imprint. And then, this spirit, which has become a mixture of a leech and a fishing hook, is sent back to the world of spheres, right during the battle, swimming up to the enemy, so to speak, from below. Due to the affinity and imprints left in the body of the entity, it is quite possible to call through this creature as if it were a part of your spiritual body. For example, by creating a breach in the enemy's defense to literally turn inside out, falling into this breach, behind the enemy's shields.

And then, due to the same connection and control, this fishing hook, divided and multiplied into dozens and hundreds of fishing hooks, clings to the body, matter, aura, to the very essence of the fabric of reality around the enemy, starting to push him out of reality. If everything is carried out correctly, you can quickly and decisively send the opponent to learn the depths of the spheres on his own experience, and the hook-exile also acts as a marker-bait, calling all kinds of shit for a free dinner. You can interfere with this trick. You can also get out yourself, even from relatively deep layers of other spheres, especially if you manage to burn the bait before it summons those who want to eat. Only it will take a lot of effort, and a weakened enemy, especially if it falls out somewhere near the dueling place, and to finish him off is not difficult. The thing is actually useful primarily when the enemy is not ready for it, or not against classic mages or witches, but against dangerous and unreasonable shit like a monster that Stepan almost met on his way through the woods (although, just it could have gotten back out and on its own). You should also remember that such a hook will still be a part of you, which means you can use it not only to pump power to strike and create a breach in the enemy's defense. The opponent can also try to hit on this connection, especially if he knows something about Maleficism, so you should not yawn and remember to make one-time impressions fairly impersonal. Oh, and it's a good idea to keep a couple of dodge-catchers for enemy curses at the ready, too.

The technique is situational. If it is about a magical duel with an equal opponent it requires attention, caution, and calculation. But a very good preparation against golems, monsters, and all sorts of oversized undead, like huge cadaver monsters. Knowledge will have its use, and even if not, it is better to have such an argument than not to have it. Or you decide to go for bread again, and there, in the bread shop, instead of a saleswoman sits an ancient lustful demoness with thousands of years of experience and a great desire to grab a shaman by the balls and not let go. Stepan would be amused if it were not for a very recent situation, during which he received his twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth levels. He had just walked into an ordinary-looking village with a funny name. Stepan would always have someone to use complicated and cunning dueling tricks against, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. He is not conflictual at heart, but the others do not care much about his peacefulness, unlike his material values or even just life with blood.

Before allowing the Ыystem to modify one of its trump properties, Stepan played a little with his new acquisition. Instead of specialized spirits with the most appropriate aspects, he used the first pest thing he could find to get a sense of the principle, and he exiled not hostile mages under monolithic protection, but stones, pieces of firewood, and a nasty bloodsucking fly that tried to land on his forehead. He'd done something similar, sending material offerings directly to the spirit world, but there it was a smooth and cautious action to make a contract, whereas with exile the slingshot principle worked. You hooked it, activated it, put in the reserve, and looked wistfully at the rapidly disappearing traces of a micro-cut in the fabric of reality. In this very micro-cut, the targets of the attack disappeared, including the fly that had no time to drink his blood, and let the spheres rest with the fragments of its essence, which is guaranteed to be eaten by the inhabitants of the deep layer of the spiritual world.

Received: “profound transformation of the spiritual body.”

The acquired talent is added to the overall Player Status.

The modification of a long-familiar and habitual property, elite and super useful, obtained at the tenth level, took much longer, plunging Stepan into a half-dream, from which he would only occasionally awaken to sink back into the same state. In some ways, it was like the moment of regaining one's original property. It was as if you were being pumped with water, like a floor cloth or a sponge for washing dishes, and when the limit of the pumping was reached, the water, absorbed by the aura and spirit, began to separate into thin threads and weave into the essence of the recipient. Only now Stepan felt at the same time both the old threads, which were moving again, and new ones, a whole pleiad of them, supplementing the previous ones, strengthening them, and changing his spiritual body again, anew. He switched off at about the very end when the sensations had subsided, and when he woke up, he just lay there for a few hours looking at the setting sun again.

Further experiments showed that his ability to control his spirit body had increased even more. The number of available tentacles and the degree to which they were filled with power increased. Now he could seriously turn himself into a spiritual analog of an octopus, or even a giant squid, controlling a dozen tentacles or other limbs at once. The potential for the symbiosis of one's own spiritual body and the spirit planted inside has grown even stronger. Even less concentration would need to be spent on it. Once, when he had just chosen an elite level ten trait, the ability to imbue himself with a battle spirit and fight like this had seemed like a real trump card, a means of winning a dangerous battle. Then, as he developed himself, he was less and less inclined to such a thought. The flexibility of thin bodies and the ability to shape them properly allowed him to call and negotiate with spirits much better, and a well-coordinated retinue under direct control was much more useful than a single shaman with a spirit planted in him.

Now that the problem of concentration was gone, he could once again rely on indwelling as his main argument in battle, while still being able to control his retinue. Worse than normal, the more powerful the subjugated spirit, the worse, but still with a fair amount of effectiveness. As a last resort, he could always summon a mighty team of battle spirits and tell them to sort themselves out, then accept the spirit and start punching faces. Combined with the multiplicity, this tactic found its logical conclusion, achieving an optimum, equally effective in defense, in attack, or the usual call. The only thing left to do was to find strong enough entities, much stronger than the current selection, that specialized in indwelling, perhaps even signing an absolute contract with them at the level that would be reflected in the System.

Another important detail was that his spiritual body had grown larger, more voluminous, and more powerful. The young man who came out of his body for the sake of the experiment could quite easily maintain the old scale, but if he wished, he was bloated, as if he had suddenly become a two-and-a-half-meter tall hulk, and the three additional arms, as well as the battle claw and shield-like wing, had also increased in scale. However, if he wished to shrink in those scales - as far as the world of spheres could define the concept of scale - he was able to become as small as a ten-year-old boy, and then he gave himself the form of a fish-like goblin. Having experimented with the limits of the flexibility of the new modification for some time, Stepan, by a heroic effort of iron will, ordered himself to become more serious and continued his normal analysis of the new possibilities. Some aspects of the spirit had increased noticeably, some barely, and some remained unchanged, but on the whole, the leap was quite tangible. It would definitely become easier to work with calls, not to mention out-of-body influences. He had already planned to summon the older spirits before, but now, with the new changes, this issue could be considered solved, the only thing missing was a new place for the call base, not even a clearing, but something else.

He spent the next couple of days in a slightly less relaxed state than he had been before taking the subclass. He rested, roasted some sort of partridge-like bird, sprinkled it with a considerable amount of spices bought through the store, and found some quite valuable roots, one of which was even conditionally edible if the poison was properly removed from it. Methodical and unhurried tests of new abilities passed with a kind of careful and attentive laziness when doing something frankly boring, but caution is not lost from it. Gradually the working rhythm took over again, the tasks set for himself required more and more attention and effort, and the period of rest and laziness was completely forgotten.

The tiny assignment completed in passing didn't even stick in his memory, but he remembered another, small one. It required careful cultivation and securing of the captured micro-source. It was not a difficult assignment, but it was one of those assignments where it was hard to understand where the boundary of what could be considered a thorough job was. The source, of course, is not outstanding, literally one of those that no one ever subdues, so small are they. If the task had been tiny, he wouldn't have bothered, but it was a small quest, with a serious reward in the form of a random small token - not an Autodivine token - and a small amount of experience, as well as a systemic promise to upgrade the source to a stronger one. Not directly very strong, but somewhere around half the level of the same hill shrine where he'd done the higher-ranked assignment.

Stepan agreed because of the token. He wanted to get something like a summoning renewal, but he also wanted to see how the System would ignite the source itself. His thoughts on how to invest the three free talent points were temporarily forgotten as the shaman enthusiastically set to work. The assignment, he was not mistaken, was not difficult, but very variable in execution. He immediately, even without thinking about it, came up with about a dozen variations on how to accomplish the task while staying within the bounds of what the reference and its images advised him to do. If he had thought about it even a little, he would have come up with about five times that many. There are a lot of ways to work with sources, especially with such weak ones. Another thing was that not all of these options were suitable for something complex and advanced, but that's just the specifics.

The first thing Stepan did was to make an agreement with the spirit, frozen between small and very weak strong. This natural with aspects of the stream and herbs, was a being quite intelligent, by the standards of spirits, and also very correctly understood the degree of difference between himself and the visiting shaman. The entity wouldn't have resented it, but the shaman exchanged a series of images with the spirit anyway, enlisting its maximum support and enthusiasm. Guardian of this very source. Why not make it another layer of defense and protection? Having reached a consensus and concluded a contract that was rigid and maximally favorable to the shaman, the enthusiastic Stepan began his work.

He searched for stones himself sending the appropriate spirits, who delivered them dragging the stones through the world of spirits. He began to process these cobblestones fumigating them with incense and covering them with drawings. He painted them with a special brush and no less special paint. The first one he had bought in Lyady through the Store, and the second one he had prepared already now, having purchased the compound reagents through the System. It was much cheaper to make the mixture from ready-made parts. It also brought more experience. The scarlet paint left on the stones was still the same shit after which the simple brush that had served him well had to be thrown away: the scarlet marks left by the brush, glowing in the darkness, had streaked half a centimeter of the stone, as if he had used a red-hot awl on wax instead of a brush.

Each of the boulders, of which there were exactly twenty-nine, clean and washed with fresh water, became the basis for a rather primitive totem. The young man did not even hide from himself the fact that he was inspired by the work of unknown witches, which he had seen at that unfortunate shrine, though he had supplemented the work and modified the method to suit himself, changing it almost beyond recognition. The boulders that had been stacked around the circle plunged sharply into the ground to exactly half and then began to rapidly cover themselves with mosses, as well as vines of a very unusual ivy. The seeds of the latter, magically active and quite capable of becoming the basis for a protective amulet on a druidic basis, he had not purchased but sprouted from his stock. It was a reward for one of the closed small tasks.

In the center of the marked circle, right in the middle of the clearing, another stone appeared. This time it was a full-fledged boulder, but not purchased from the system either. This very boulder, which had been lying for many, many years on the top of a hill a few hours away from the clearing with the source, year after year absorbed the daylight, the rustle of leaves, and the clatter of raindrops. It was an excellent billet for a weak altar, but Stepan had to modify the boulder before he could make it an altar. The top of the boulder, about one and a half meters in diameter, which has a remotely spheroidal appearance, he literally cut off, leaving there a hollow, in which the rainwater will be collected, soaked with light and natural power. Then he again takes a mixed mixture of the purchased reagents, a greenish slurry with a gray tint, dips into this slurry a quality steel needle-point - by the way, it was quite a weapon, even a little enchanted - and begins with the tip of the needle to draw another portion of signs on the inside of the hollow.

By the time he was done, the third needle was a little more than halfway through, but the marks were literally burned into the stone, immediately sprouting moss right in the hollows where the drawings had been left. Having destroyed the remnants of the crap that threatened to eat a hole in the vessel reinforced by a couple of spirits, and having breathed normal air - not filtered air, free from the harmful vapors of acidic stuff - Stepan began the second phase of his plan. Either the sub-totems or the overpumped spirit houses from the ring of boulders and the central altar-boulder itself were filled with the necessary structuring influences, turning them into a future line of defense. The spirits-guards, gathered under the command of the current guardian, could use them themselves, without the shaman's help and guidance.

The third stage of the assignment was the summoning of these guards and their dispersal, the creation of a control network, and the basis for a segmental protective field. All in all, he summoned about half a dozen small spirits with the necessary guardian specializations, another five small spirits engaged in the purification and constant stabilization of the source, as well as a spirit quite strong, which had to sleep simultaneously in each of the cobblestones of the formed ring, feeding from the source and awakening only to fight in the case of a particularly aggressive and dangerous enemy. This amount for a small source was frankly excessive, even if we take into account the feeding from the structure of the totem stones, but Stepan counted on the subsequent strengthening of the source, once the task was completed. Then the spirits would have enough to live on and actively work on improving their own dwellings, as well as on giving charges to anyone who trespassed on their supply trough.

It was completed by an even tougher deal with the guardian spirit, and then the endowment of the spirit with systemic characteristics, so that it would match the strength of its rank, otherwise it would not be listened to, if not by the ordinary defenders, then by the expert in protective fields and amulets sitting in the stones. It reinforced the target quite well. Not the full twelve units, but no less than eight or nine, and a good portion of those gift characteristics went to the Source or the stat that spirits have for the amount of reserve. With such a boost, the entity would be able to do much more. She also has the right to consider herself a strong spirit, not a small one. This is also important because it is a matter of hierarchy and command. After strengthening and checking the work of totems, Stepan began to tweak the weak points in the issuance of commands and algorithms of action. The last thing he needed was for his summoned entities to start killing random passersby.

No, these spirits would guard this place quietly, at most chasing away those too impudent. Even more than that: the spirits may well have the right, and Stepan did not forbid it, to receive some offerings from those who wanted to meditate here. Stepan was not going to come back here, so he created a kind of analog of a public drinking fountain, in case someone decided to use it. However, he had left a couple of surprises for any goblins and other bloodthirsty things that would try to either flood the place with blood from sacrifices or seize control over the source. Mostly on the conscience of the strong guardian spirit sleeping in the stones, with the spheres of earth and light, with aspects of line, prohibition, and blood. If an individual thought he was the smartest but wasn't smart enough to see the trap, he'd be in for a surprise.

The last stage was to cover his tracks and sever ties. The Earthman consciously severed his power over this place, erased the contracted images, and forced the spirits to “forget” who had summoned them. Instead, he soldered them even more firmly into the structure of the altar boulder and the sound of the source, preventing exorcisms, subjugating calls, any spiritual stupefaction, and attempts to put the spirits of the guardians to sleep, even if only with a well-chosen offering. He doesn't need anyone to link this source to his identity, whether fake or real. The young man didn't see much harm in someone recognizing his call handwriting, but his habit, albeit an alien one, given by his agent skills, demanded that if possible all traces should be erased to zero. And if it was impossible, then at least try very, very hard.

At this point, he wiped his forehead, exhaled, and admitted, to himself first of all, that he had completed the quest and, miracle! - the System agreed with him. A bit of experience increased affinity with spheres, improved interaction with sources of magic, and a single three-use token: “small artifact repair” that did exactly what the image said. Fully repairing any damage and replenishing unrecoverable durability reserves for any type of magical items, be it standard staffs and wands, no less standard amulets with shields and amulets, or some exotics like altars and far-seeing mirrors. Alas, since the token was “small”, it would be impossible to find some broken relic from a thousand years ago and restore it from ashes and splinters: the rollback period was exactly three months, and the artifact itself would return to its state exactly three months before activation. If at that moment the artifact was already broken, discharged, disassembled, and not working, then nothing will change for the user of the token.

Stepan's study of the token almost made him miss the moment when the source seemed to blink, shimmer, and blaze with renewed vigor, four or five times its previous level of power. If the shaman hadn't created his creation with the original design for the source's rapid amplification, all his preparations would have been washed away by the increased energy flow. And again Stepan didn't understand a damn thing: no change in the structure of the spiritual veins, not the slightest trace of a shift in the etheric currents, just in an instant reality changed its state, making the pitiful and small source not so pitiful, not so small at all. Some freshly certified adept would be frantically happy if his house was built on such a source, especially if the entire flow of power would go to him alone, instead of being distributed among the inhabitants of the house or even a third of the neighborhood.

"I'm such a good boy." He concluded with a satisfied look, allowing himself a scant praise for himself, because no one would praise you if you didn't praise yourself.

Shrugging, he picked up his belongings, finished cleaning up his footprints, softened the earth so that it would swallow his campfire and sleeping place, and then went forward. The spirits had already scouted the path. He intended to meet the new night on the same knoll from which he had stolen the boulder. He would have stayed in the clearing, especially since it was now a very fertile source of magic, but... Stepan scratched the back of his head in bewilderment and was ashamed to admit it, but he had, to put it mildly, overdone it. In his intention to clean this place of his presence as best as possible, he had not only succeeded. He had succeeded one hundred forty-eight percent out of one hundred. The spirits did not recognize or acknowledge him, unobtrusively following their guest and fully prepared to defend their home by force. The shaman, who was pleased with such militancy, was sorry to ruin almost a week of his labors, so he did not stay near the place of the assignment.

Although he felt like an idiot, of course.

* * *

He left his second rookery, also properly protected and fortified, after a week and a half, and spent a lot of effort cleaning up the tracks. There were no serious quests with powerful rewards this time unless you counted Absomilfnoy's jokes, so he devoted himself entirely to pumping. The three talent points had been waiting for a long time, and it was only natural that they would finally arrive. He put them in one by one, with pauses, taking time to practice new skills and assimilate the material, without hurry, marathons, and information avalanches, which would make you want to lie still for several days at least.

The first two points went into spiritual operation, bringing him to master rank. At the moment, the maximum allowed by his stats, as well as in the recently received practice of indwelling, brings it to advanced knowledge. He wanted to improve advanced mastery call practice which is the root of the class. And he could try to strengthen the mark of the spheres for the third time, it was just going to be an incredibly pleasant result. But, once he started investing in his subclass, he had to take it to its logical conclusion, didn't he? He held back all three points just for the opportunity to invest in a previously unavailable skill. He did, it's a silly argument. Did he get the opportunity to develop the previously caped Spiritual Transformation and Spiritual Operating? He did, no arguments here either. The development of these talents, if not elite, then close to it, gave a very significant output, no less than from the pumping of call practice. It did, no doubt about it. So what else does he want?

The “advanced methods of controlled spiritual indwelling” raised by the first ones were taken surprisingly easily. Perhaps it was the choice of subclass and the passed modification of the elite property, or perhaps the knowledge itself at this rank supplemented the missing, rather than gave new vectors of development. From the most important one can take into account a whole range of methods to support symbiosis with the summoned entity during active calls and work with other spirits. This is what the shaman lacked most of all before, because of which he could not apply the subconsciousness in full force. Of course, he would need training, each of the elite underlings would need a long time to master, to get used to sharing body and spirit with another entity, but, if performed correctly, he would retain at least a third of the concentration reserve, while staying in close connection. This will be enough, if not for new calls and invocations, then at least for control and direction of already summoned spirits. Especially if they are called in advance, let them incarnate, and then direct them and feed them with the reserve when needed.

There are many variants of synergy with paired invocation, in the sense of paired, that both the shaman and the spirit implanted in the body call at the same time. For example, you call to the light aspect of the sphere of the sun and healing properties, and then put him in yourself and start to call smaller spirits. These small spirits, or even spirits of the same rank, feeling that they are called simultaneously by a shaman and a colleague, simplify their call by almost an order of magnitude. Half an order of magnitude, at least. And that's not counting the lower prices and more flexible bargaining power. Not to the limit, because the same fellow will not let twist the kindred spirits of their false legs, but still very noticeable and with less nervousness. However, if you bind to yourself with a contract and let inside the thin bodies of a securely constrained dark and evil spirit, which itself is a very big and not always necessary risk, he, on the contrary, will oppress the younger brethren, literally in the style of “work and live a little more, or else I'll eat”, receiving a small percentage of the knocked out discount at his disposal.

Stepan had used similar methods before, when you summon one stronger spirit and rely on its help in summoning further spirits, you can remember the same silkworms, which he used to cleanse the cursed temple, but the effectiveness is literally multiplied if the spirit calls not separately and together, but literally from within the shaman. The power of the call then multiplies each other, as a ray of light multiplies, caught between mirrored walls and reflected again and again. This may not be a combat trick, but the benefits of such an application will be almost more than the combat manifestations of the classic sub-settlement. Especially if combined with a reliance on the terrain, with already prepared lines of defense, with closed and self-enclosed arrays of amulets, as well as feeding from several separate and duplicating totems. Agent skills also yielded their own synergistic results, especially in terms of discreetly planting a spirit not only in oneself but also, for example, in some unwitting kamikaze agents. Or in someone whose doll had managed to be made and synchronized. The same Sylvia, her body was able to withstand even another senior.

There was no need to talk about combat skills. The expanded pool of summons, including those very specialists in sub-settlement, as well as more complicated tactical schemes, multiplied by the skill of the third rank, gave a slightly intimidating result. Stepan still did not allow himself to be proud, for that was enough only to remember the fatal wound left by the bloodsucker lolita, but he was well aware that he had already become a fearsome opponent for almost anyone. Especially, if he was given time to prepare and gather information about the enemy, if he was allowed to attack first and in his own field. But even in a surprise fight against an opponent ready to fight, he was already capable of much, albeit more in theory. For practical application, it was necessary to perform a lot of calls to make new contracts, subdue them, and, preferably, work out the interaction with them.

The “masterful practice of spiritual operation” was based on the increased strength of the elite property, allowing him to use the very same transformation correctly and as efficiently as possible, playing it like another instrument. With the right approach, he was able to tear apart a strong fighting spirit himself, both after leaving his body and without leaving his body. Tentacles that change to blades, claws that are covered with spikes and hooks, flowing from one form to another, less and less like humanoids. Also, the ability to keep thinking and reasoning intact even during such a transition. It's the actual analog of spiritual werewolfism, literally the exit to a separate subclass. Yeah, well, actually, if you think about it, a “Cognizant Spirit” is exactly what a spirit shapeshifter is and a specialist in controlled body-splitting with someone else. And yes, if a young man sets a goal, he is quite capable of becoming an ordinary werewolf, both permanently and temporarily, up to free juggling of forms. A month to be a wolf, then a bear, and then a moose, you can even be the one from the joke, always saying good evening to everyone.

Not quite what real shifters do, but no worse and far more effective with the right approach. Even now, he can embody his animal form in several different ways. Through the planting of animal spirits in the body, it is possible to take a weak essence, feeding the transformation by its own forces, and a powerful elder, which will take everything on itself, but also requires more, and press on the brain will be harder. Through the totem-anchor, connecting with this totem and, preferably, not going too far away, but much more reliable and without a number of side effects, albeit with the risk of breaking the connection when destroying the totem. Well, or if this connection would be traced and blocked, or even twisted by curses, mental control, or spells. If Stepan, with his knowledge, can do it, then the hypothetical opponent can do it too. You can use the doll method, molding yourself-envolt in the desired manner, and then forcing the doll to become an animal, changing after it. It's very reliable, and very cheap to use if you don't count the cost of creating the doll, but it takes a long time to make it and you'll spend a lot of rare consumables. And getting a beast doll into the wrong hands is still as unpleasant and dangerous as with ordinary dolls.

In a fit of excitement, Stepan tried to take especially funny forms of the spiritual body, starting with Slenderman, continuing with Alucard, ending with Pennywise, and performing various actions with his own spiritual body. To put a curse on a piece of earth or stone, to remove it, to heal broken wings and legs of an insolent bird that tried to shit on the shaman's head, and let no one ask who caused these fractures to the bird, to mold a few charms, a contract anchor, a couple of camouflage clips with averted eyes... The shaman was literally doing a job he used to leave to the spirits. It was more difficult than with the spirits, more effort was spent, and a significant part of the exotic properties of his retinue could not be repeated, but it was still impressive. The Earthling even wondered if he would be able to come to other people's calls or even summon himself at the later stages of such training. He would differ from a powerful spirit only by having a physical body and human consciousness. Although, the latter is already very controversial. All powerful gifted, not only shamans, at later stages of development think not only as humans. Adepts of wild magic here are ahead of adepts of high magic, but not to say that very much.

The knowledge bestowing general erudition asserted that high-ranking mages were still human, with all their human vices, hobbies, and desires. It was just that they could now contemplate and realize their goals in ways that mere humans could not understand. How can a simple man, as Stepan himself was so recently and, it seemed, so long ago, realize the immensity of the underside of the material world, its depth, which embodies the answers to all the questions that were once or will be asked? How can the uninformed understand the beauty of the intertwined knots and threads of higher charms that absorb any element, any manifestation of energy essence, merging into a tornado of fire, a stone rampart, a protective dome, or a starfall of magical arrows flying in a dense wall of rain? Who but a mentalist would realize how unique each mind, each thought, from a shit cleaner to a king, is, how different and yet similar they all are in their fragility, in their defenselessness before the power of another mind capable of acting on this plane? Such thoughts bring a somewhat philosophical mood and involuntarily inclines towards some kind of mago-fascism.

The largest layer of information, the most ramified, requiring time to digest even more than the increase of spiritual operation to the rank of mastery, was accepted by Stepan in the last place, on the last talent point. In principle, he could have promoted the indwelling by another rank, pushing him to the advanced developed level, but he invested in agent work after all. “Skillful methods of agent work” turned out to be no less useful than increasing combat skill, in many ways even more so. Because they helped either not to bring it to the battle, to avoid it, or to reduce it to the first and fatal blow. The original talent revealed a set of habits and tricks of a seasoned secret service agent in a fantasy setting. Skillful, experienced, long and diligently honing his skills, but still acting within the limits of his skills, templates, and competencies. These frameworks, templates, and competencies were multiplied by “3.14” due to the synergy with every single piece of knowledge in Stepan's sprawling status.

The increased knowledge transferred the baggage of tricks from those for only a very experienced agent to the category of those very larvae of James Bond and Jason Bourne. Not a working horse, but a real trump jack, and developed comprehensively and with all the same synergies. Skills of doing business in the cities and beyond, tracking and hiding from it, training and coaching teams of newcomers, and the best ways to multiply such a team to zero with a mentor. Eliminations and assassinations, liquidations and demonstrations, training agents and creating entire networks of influence, methods of interrogation and questioning using shamanic techniques. Ways to conceal one's interrogation from the target and those who would be examining the target, full-blown infiltration operations, uncovering multi-layered defenses, or their lengthy and thorough analysis. Methods used to obtain samples of blood, hair, and other body tissues for the purpose of casting a spell or curse, tactics and techniques for removing auric impressions without attracting the attention of the target's orderlies or bodyguards.

Ways to slip someone a poisoned apple, a cursed ring, or something similar, bypassing vigilant defenses and no less vigilant defenders, the ability to frame someone else for the evil deed. Deep remodeling of personality with triple and more layers, when the first layer of bookmarks and mental activators in other people's brains are deliberately made to be noticed and removed, leaving out something less noticeable, more carefully hidden. Switching to a subordinate mode with memory wiping by a command spoken aloud is much easier to notice and uproot from someone's head than, say, a slight increase in gullibility and suggestibility only in the phase of a new moon and only in reaction to a very rare type of jasmine perfume. Contacts and methods of summoning the appropriate spirits able to perform such and other tasks, especially if you are still unable to pull off such a thing.

Wiping out traces, concealment, and interference, creating deceptions and numerous traps, the ability to play cat and mouse with pursuers, so in the end the cat was you and not them. Strong and senior spirits of concealing, masking, or other specializations, which will be useful in agent work of one sort or another. How about an entity that gets planted in the victim's body and does nothing at all, being physically incapable of doing the slightest harm, completely undetectable even if scanned carefully enough? Except, this entity can watch and listen, memorizing sounds from the victim's ears, images from her vision, and even thoughts and hunches from her head. And then, coming out of the body, - it can be as invisible as it was planted, or even killing the victim in the process - this spirit will readily retell everything, allowing literally by seconds to sort out all the interesting moments.

Or, if we are talking about influences on consciousness, a spirit-attendant, coming in dreams, in moments of weakness or happiness, capable of imperceptibly and invisibly following the target for years, gradually leading her to the desired thought as naturally as possible, so that the influence is not even mental control, no. Analogous to the usual persuasion, whispering in the ear, but inaudible, and therefore will not be able to challenge what is said, until the monolithic principles and faith do not begin to crack at the seams. The most loyal knight-cavalier will stick a dagger in the liege's back and get a ringing purse for it with a place at the court of the new lord. A respectable and reserved old butler with puritanical views will lose all his money in a gambling house, getting into deepest debts, from which he can be helped to get out for services. A young and in love man will forget about his foolish love and quietly marry the one whom his parents point out, or he will fall in love with the imposed bride no weaker than in his first love. A faithful and loving wife who is waiting for her husband, who has gone on a long journey, will become a promiscuous cheater in six months, loving the fact of cheating and humiliation of her husband, who still loves her, but more for the thickness of his purse.

Tough shit. The elder spirit was even stronger than the Sleepwalker, and certainly more skillful, though he had a long lifespan and crazy requests for a contract. However, it is possible to call someone else, no less strong and developed. For example, a master of cleaning up traces, not only and not so much auric and spiritual, but also physical. You give the spirit an image and a goal, and it takes and begins to erase this goal from reality. Those who have not seen the victim for a long time will gradually forget about it, records in travel documents or tax returns will spoil and disappear, portraits will fade, personal diaries will decay, and everything like that. Obviously, it is better to use such a thing not as revenge on some foe, but on oneself. And everyone, including Kirik, Meld, and other individuals, will forget about the strange shaman Pann. Not at once, not in the same hour, but in half a year the memory of him will be completely erased. Stepan put this spirit in the mandatory contract, even if it was not activated yet. The shaman was in no hurry to erase himself from reality, because he had not left enough legacy, and he did not want to erase not only himself but also everything he had taught the boy. But if he had to leave somewhere without saying goodbye and without unnecessary eyes, such a trick would come in handy.

The only thing stopping Stepan's enthusiasm was the fact that this spirit was not just an elder, but a full-fledged higher one. It would be a hell of a lot of trouble to summon him, let alone negotiate with him. Stepan was almost certain that he would be able to summon and make the spirit appear, but as it was customary in shamanism, as in any other kind of summoning, summoning an entity was only the first third of the process. of the work, probably the easiest. The second third is to avoid being devoured or mutilated by the entity called, and only in the last third can one move on to getting something from the entity. Often this “something” is reduced to the fact the entity simply leaves without killing anyone in the process. Yes, shamanic practices are not demonology. Stepan rejoiced that he had nothing to do with demons because you have to be a complete moron, even if there is system support. The entities of high spheres are relatively adequate and not always evil. The same demonologists, if they are magicians working with demons not servants of demons, have to live with a clear understanding that they fucked up at the stage of choosing a profession.

That night, when he had finished learning and then passed out, falling into a dreamless sleep. For the first time in a long time, vague and indecipherable visions came over him again. Stepan did not allow himself such a luxury as a lack of protection from evil dreams, so he did not worry too much, giving himself to the will of dreams. The dreams were so crazy, against which the old farmer-tractor driver with the number three hundred on his back, armed with pitchforks and a six-barrel machine gun, fighting off giant killer mice, the size of a small barn, was the pinnacle of adequacy. The farmer by the way, successfully fought back, having spent the last ribbon on a huge mouse queen, which almost managed to take off half of his face. Having stuck the pitchfork into the ground, throwing the machine gun on the corpse of the defeated enemy, the farmer limped off at a senile run in the direction of the latrine standing in the distance.

He dreamt of a middle-aged man walking along a gray and dull street, reading some documentation and making notes in it. The world around him was like an ordinary world, reminiscent of the earthly one, but at the same time it was definitely not it, and there was something strange, scary, and magical around. The date also did not coincide, because in the documents it was the four hundred and eighth year from a certain Arrival. The scene had changed, and now the focus of the shaman's perception was tens, hundreds of thousands of identical cat-girls in seylor-fuku, ominously yanking at the last man in the deserted city, telling him that it was useless to resist, that humanity would be occupied and assimilated. The man just clutches his armored sli[er tighter and says that nothing will make him change his mind because this is his Vyborg.
Выборг

Other dreams were embodied by whole scenes, fragmented and divided, memorized partially or completely. Some magical laboratory, in which an elf woman with the aura of a master healer with a bias towards aura healing, covered with shields of the highest category and standing in a protective ritual circuit, was silently strengthening this protection to even greater, almost absurd strength. Dressed in the best protective artifacts, covered with so much of her own and other people's magic that it was not even funny, she nods calmly and importantly to the half elf boy standing on the opposite side of the protective contour. The guy, vaguely familiar, as if a long-lost relative, obviously shyly does something, after which the elf, without changing the focused expression on her face and full readiness, unlaces the heavy and enchanted protective armor, exposing her snow-white breasts, moving her shoulders for a few seconds to shake them properly. She evenly and calmly, slightly apologizing, but with full dignity, says that she would let her breasts be touched, but she cannot destroy the protective circuit, it will take a long time to rebuild it. On the half-elf's attempts to prove that her actions are caused by the activation of the token by something incomprehensible, she only waves away, asking not to talk nonsense, because she is fully aware of her actions and took the chance to motivate her interlocutor, before starting to seriously try to protect herself from the unknown impact.

The face of his namesake, recognizable even in his dreams, was still as pimply and insolent as before, and the fat man himself hadn't changed much in terms of build. But it is difficult to call him pejorative nicknames, seeing how his almost round figure, covered with dozens of shields, literally tears like paper, the formation desperately fighting back and trying to at least retreat demonic guards. The long sword in his hands pierces demonic hearts, wide dagger parries back blows, breaks enemy blades as if they suddenly became paper crafts, and weak and medium creatures vaporize by his mere presence. The strong also vaporize, but they, dying in agony, still have time to try to protect their eternity from their inexorable fate. The satisfied smile on his face becomes greasier and greasier, and now he breaks into the center of the demonic formation and opens the container protected by many seals. Finding only emptiness and the inscription that “his titty princess of angels was transported with another squad”, as well as imprinted on the letter of a woman's lips and the signature of the Demon Queen. Infuriated beyond belief, Stepan the One unleashes a veritable wave of all-cleansing light and grace, literally burning out the remnants of the enemy army down to the last demon. The last thing the demons heard in their suddenly cut short was a loud, desperate, and furious: “Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
Степан.

Dressed in one light and frivolous nightgown of obviously human cut, an orcish woman more than two meters tall, beautiful, muscular, and at the same time with prominent breasts, hips, and feminine figure, is walking down the corridor of some long abandoned but recently restored underground palace shelter. She had a satisfied smile on her face and was enjoying life, but then she stumbled, turning sharply on her toes. She thought something had just touched her, flashed by her side, but her eyes and other senses, including the very advanced methods of touch with the gift, found nothing and certainly did not see the figure touching her skin again at her back. Dressed in the tight robes of an elite lurker, the pretty assassin continues to discreetly and barely touch her friend's body frozen in tension. Orcуess slowly relaxed, believing that she just imagined it, and continued on her way, but after a dozen steps, she realized she had huge tits.

I mean, she'd always known it, but only now, hearing the woman's inaudible and so familiar whisper in her ear, did she realize how big and heavy her green watermelons really were. Bigger than her puny brain, from which all the blood had gone to muscle and all the mind to tits. Heavier than she could hold and not fall. Leaning against the wall, the green-skinned warrior barely keeps herself from collapsing, knocked off her feet by the weight of her enormous tits. She manages to lean back against the wall and slide down it, holding her tits with both hands, lifting them with difficulty, and dropping them back down. She doesn't pay any attention to her nemesis friend who has come out of hiding, she needs, it's vital, to gather her strength and lift those tits, those stupid and juicy tits, until her friend's fingers find the steel-hard nipples and start pinching them, taking the last of her thoughts out of the stupid head of the even more stupid boobed bigwig.

While the orchid is lying down and barely finds the strength to caress her huge breasts, the inaudible Asian woman leans over her and starts stroking, squeezing, and pressing on different parts of her body, slowly and confidently bringing her victim into a deep trance. She realized the situation to the last and tried to overcome the impossible weight of her breasts and to stand up, to start resisting. Having put her nemesis friend into a trance the slanting beauty lifts her to her feet and leads her, and the huge orcess no longer feels neither the weight that covered her nor any thoughts, only complete thoughtlessness and absolute submission, nothing else. Taking her playmate into one of the empty rooms, she begins to stroke her body, playing with it, then causing bouts of pre-orgasmic pleasure, then cooling the passion and keeping the victim away from the much-desired peak. In her mind, there is a glimmering desire to bring her friend to consciousness, but still keep her motionless, to enjoy her impotent threats, changing into humiliated pleas to let her finally cum. But those plans were getting farther away as she rubbed the warrior's muscular body with her dainty palms incessantly, not noticing how she began to breathe more frequently, how her pupils dilated and her heartbeat quickened.

And so, in a moment, she began to kiss her victim, still as motionless and unresisting, at first gently touching her lips to the back and the bottom of the neck, which she could barely reach, even standing on her toes, but gradually becoming less and less restrained. In a moment the kisses become wetter and wetter, more and more like licking, and then, the slanting lurker stops even pretending that she is playing with her victim, teasing her with her lips. Her nimble tongue runs over the green skin, outlines every muscle, her breathing becomes intermittent and heavy, she kneels, and simply falls, unable to stand on her tucked legs, pressing herself harder against the hot body of her not-so-victim. In this position, she can't reach her pussy or buttocks, licking her calves, thighs, and feet, forgetting all pride and superiority. Somewhere at this point, when she slips her pink tongue between the fingers of the motionless orcess, she has her orgasm, violent, wet, accompanied by involuntary moaning and screaming. The Asian woman drools, and spurts her juices right into the hopelessly stained clothes, with her last drops of consciousness ordering the orchid to relax and lie on her back, immediately pressing her face into the green crotch, licking and cumming, licking and cumming, licking and licking and licking and licking and licking.

Scrooge McDuck, armed with a golden plunger, only for some reason dressed in elfish style and with long ears, descends resolutely and inevitably into the depths of Tartarus, knocking down all the guards of the netherworld on his way, kicking mighty defenders and divine charms. He is mighty, he is strong, he is unstoppable, and he knows exactly where to go, and exactly who he needs. The goal is close, and so, in a moment, he reaches the chamber in which the soul of yet another dead man exists, only this soul is out of luck. Shouting, “Did you think it would be so easy to die, you evil debtor?”, he drags the spirit of a dead young boy of half-elven appearance out of his prison, starting to tell him that he has no right to die until he pays back the resources spent on him and recoups every last dime, including lost profits and accrued interest. Desperately justifying the guy says that he did not plan to die, but Scrooge does not listen, he is sure that death is no excuse for non-payment, dragging the kidnapped man behind him, fighting off the guards, and shoving a plunger into the mouth of Hades. At the same time, coins fall out of each enemy when struck, which Scrooge scrupulously picks up himself or makes his partner collect. No one doubts that they will be able to make it back to the world of the living, not even the guards who frantically shout into their intercom amulets that they have here the CODE BROWN, they repeat it over and over again, because it is indeed the CODE BROWN.

Faces and events were shattered into fragments, reunited as particles of a mosaic. At the same time Stepan, himself and not his spirits, seemed to sense some missing detail, a minor inconvenience, something forgotten, frozen at the very edge of memory. Suddenly realizing himself in the middle of a dream, he tried to figure out exactly what it was that had disturbed him, what made him feel the urge to keep tapping, fumbling for an answer. The dreams became less and less like dreams, finally replaced by a swirl of colors in which there were no faces, no scenes, no clear images, when he began to notice, to grasp at the very tip of his mind. needles of his senses, a certain structure. An image, an image at once brief and yet very meaningful, full of strength and power over that of which this image is a part. Stepan realizes that this image has been with him for quite a long time, it's just that until then he hadn't been able to notice it, to catch a trace of it, couldn't understand that he needed to look for something at all, to look for something that didn't just slip out of his memory on waking. No, this image, it was like it was part of something bigger, it was like it was hiding, hiding from the shaman's images and will. And the shaman disliked the very fact that something could hide from him in his own dreams and memory, hiding where he should be master and ruler. He, and not some impudent image, image, image, image, image, image, which in fact was not an image at all, no, not an image, not an image, not an image, not an image, but....

4444

Name.

Stepan dives into his own dreams. He uses the control over his own spiritual body, which affects, among other things, the dream sphere, to find something alien, carefully hidden, which also came in a dream and was sealed in oblivion by the dream. Something that came in a dream, but was not a dream as such, was alien to this place-state and the shaman. He searches, not even for an obstacle, but for a void, as if a part of him simultaneously wants and does not want to find this answer. Perplexity is replaced by a kind of irritation and a tinge of incomprehension, even apprehension. He, aware of himself at this moment, should not have trouble remembering something that belongs to his dreams, already imprinted in them, not blurred upon awakening. He shouldn't, but for some reason he does, with some difficulty holding his concentration so as not to leave the detail that hit him in the shroud of oblivion again.

Caressing rays of light that refract in the reflections of the disco ball, blinding, deceiving, distracting, not allowing to think and hear, not allowing to remember and remember almost caught crosses in the eyes and power in the gaze not to remember to forget not to remember the dream not to remember to forget dream nonsense no excitement to forget...

An aura of soft and gentle honey, covering with a blanket, persuading to speak, to say, to tell, not to worry, to share secrets, but not to look at the swish of the tail with a heart-thickening look left-right not to think and forget the dream forget everything not to remember...

A sly chuckle, full of the promise of passion and power over the one to whom you promise, full of hot desire, behind which there is something much more than just vulgarity already almost formed into an image gesture of the hand along the body look forget forget don't remember forget forget wish don't remember come forget...

Smooth and soft skin, tantalizing warmth of a supple body, replaced by a cell of captivating attraction, turning off reason and will, depriving the very will to forget and not remember to want to want to watch forget to remember to dream to sleep to mature to pour out...

An absolute of pleasure in look and touch, a promise of the most secret fantasies, an assurance of fidelity to the end and beyond, a fidelity that will captivate forever, deprive everything to sleep to not see to forget to not remember to look to wish to forget to remember to forget to forget to pour...

Tenderness and relaxation, an enticing desire to give into the hands of an experienced lover that will bring all the pleasures of the world and those that are beyond the world at all tits scarlet nipples purple nipples look to want to see look to lick forget to forget not to remember to forget...

This image. The image of a woman's breasts, somehow scarlet-red in color, tender, large, soft, desirable, and by the mere sight of them plunging the mind and brain into a flood of uncontrollable lust.... It almost breaks through Stepan's defenses. It would have been guaranteed to do so a couple of days ago; he would have done so because in his sleep he could not concentrate enough will to overcome the sleepy oblivion. But now, after another sharp intensification and gaining much more power over his spiritual body, he already realizes what he's doing, and what he needs to do. He also realizes that it is probably not the first time that he has paid attention to the image of the name that was given to him, but the memory of that name was taken away. It was just that in the previous times, he lacked no strength or skill, not even attentiveness, not even the ability to realize himself even in somewhat different formats of existence, such as in dreams.

Now everything is different, and he presses the matter of the dream spheres, looks and feels deep into his beloved self, cuts through the web of deception, tears off from his consciousness the alluring image of red tits, which he is sure is not the first time he has dreamed about, and then, with methodical gloating, puts the image together from the pieces. An image that turns out to be a name. A name in the sense of the word, which differs markedly from human speech. Such name-images are called by sufficiently powerful and conscious spirits who have managed to realize themselves and accept what their name will become. Not even a name - but a Name. And this label, it did not belong to a spirit, not even to a strong spirit, as might come into a shaman's dreams, it belonged to another entity, no less strong, no less ancient, no less terrible, no less dangerous, and just as much not belonging to the material world even more than it did not belong to the worlds of the spheres.

Laghan.

It was not the name of a spirit, but of a demon, a demoness even, because even without the image of scarlet tits and purple nipples Stepan felt in this image the femininity and Lust suffocating all thoughts at once. Now the already tense young man went from mere tension to full-fledged combat mode, went without waking up, still searching in his dreams for something to use as a support. He needed, even vital, to find and understand how he had the demonic Name in the back of his forgotten dreams, possibly, though unlikely, incomplete, making things even slightly worse. But dreams did not store answers, and if there was an answer, it was lost in one of the many dreams that he constantly dreamed, which were forgotten when he woke up. No surprise there. They could not be remembered, because that is the nature of echoes of future, past, and, what is more often, never existed events, which come to shamans in dreams.

“As if the problems of the past weren't enough for me,” Stepan said simultaneously in the dream and reality, opening his eyes and easily overcoming the oblivion that had already disintegrated, keeping in his memory the image that he had unknown and unnatural recognized and that he had almost been forced to forget. “In this world, it seems you can't even sleep without another shit trying to fuck you in the brains. No, it's not even surprising, knowing my skillset, I can do that myself, but I didn't expect it, I didn't expect it, though I should have.”

When Stepan woke up, he immediately developed a flurry of activity, trying to assess the damage that had been done to him and that he hadn't noticed. He noted in passing that the system had not given him a new rank in dream-inducing, because he had discovered the problem through brute force, simply breaking the effect designed for a weaker shaman who was weak and had not received his trump subclass. In another moment it would have been a reason to regret the missed opportunity, but now, for much more important reasons, he had neither the time nor the nerves to regret not getting the free talent.

The first thing the earthling immediately set about was constructing a specific protective amulet designed to summon rather specific entities. Several diverse strong spirits, quite difficult to summon and requiring specific offerings and calls, were able to search for traces of demonic foulness and their influence. An inquisitor would sell his left kidney, hand, and ball for a contract with such trackers if he couldn't take them away. Stepan had organized all the summons in the fastest and safest possible mode. If the speed, quality, and safety of the summons were maximized, then the price of such a summons would skyrocket. A significant part of the available stock of currency was spent on the purchase of offerings.

Yes, the shaman did not hesitate to press, and use the mark of spheres, the amplification of the mark from the Patchwork Echo, and advanced forms of spiritual dialog. He did not show his interest. He did not let the spirits feel their superiority and charged a price for their services. But as it was, dreams of another purchase of a special lot had to be put off for an unknown time. Stepan spent about a third of his stock on new contracts, reusable and durable, with the prospect of renewal later. All in all, four basic spirit finders sharpened specifically against the demonic threat had been added to his arsenal and it was still a great deal. A rare, very rare, and unusual specialization. A set of extremely exotic properties that are difficult to meet and almost impossible to properly develop. Still, demons with the worlds of spheres practically do not intersect, they have nothing to share by and large, and therefore among the spirits rarely arise predators, which eat demons. Not just capable of destroying the demon entities, any creature with sufficient strength and developed intelligence or instincts can do that, but those who see demons as their main prey. And already among these spirits even less those who know how to not just kill and eat, not just search and find, but to see traces of demonic influence in someone else. Without ready-made contacts and lists of offerings, without the right configuration of the call and developed dialog, such individuals can be searched for years, finding at best only something of comparable effectiveness.

These four were skillful, strong, reliable, and yet very successful at interacting with shamans in the material world. Given his suddenly discovered problem, he would need such contracts permanently, to the point of converting them to a full and eternal contract. The first of the spirits scanned his body, searching for signs of demonic touch. The entity literally saw with its gaze the places where the demon had touched, his material and not-so-material body. The spirit primarily saw these touches on the living but on things as well, making it the perfect tool for finding cultists of all sorts. Of course, a strong demon is more than capable of working its victim in a way that doesn't touch them directly, but, often, they aren't too keen on that. If Stepan or his belongings had those marks on them, he probably would have formed a gravitational singularity in place of his own ass. But fortunately, no such obvious trace was found. The spirit that had the look and feel of a glassy and mobile scolopendra just looked up its ass but found not a single trace of anything demonic that had even been near the slowly panicking shaman.

It was quite possible to deceive the search abilities of even such an exotic and elite spirit. Especially if the demon was strong. Therefore, Stepan did not stop on the first of the four, nor did he reduce the degree of paranoia. Frankly speaking, he would have loved to know that the search was positive, just to understand - where and how exactly he contacted Inferno, just to know where and with whom to fight, but it did not work out. The uncertainty was not so much frightening as exhausting, making him suspect all sorts of things, peddling paranoia and looping his thoughts in snake-like rings. Although there was some motivating and sobering fear in him. Not allowing him to look for black cats in empty dark rooms where there might not be a cat, the shaman began to work with the next spirit. This individual was no longer picking up the touch of a demonic entity, but the very presence of the Inferno energy, which all those who like to organize Autodafes call foul.

Property and trick in fact ordinary in its nature, almost all the most common spirits even without a purely search bias able to feel such scent-smell smell and signal. Actually, it is due to the visibility of the curse demons and not eaten yet all the worlds together, it is because of this visibility they are so clever and cunning, so skillful. They have to compensate with experience, skill, and clever combinations of the strongest debuffs to stealth. Yes, the demon itself, especially if strong, is almost guaranteed to possess methods of concealing infernality and mopping up traces of corruption. But this is if the demon is strong, called into reality, and fixed by some anchor. At the initial stage, when at the disposal of the demon is only a couple of dumb as Beavis and Buthead, and others call demons will not, cultists, they have to wiggle their asses, minimize the impact and presence and very clearly plan each action.

Returning to the question of searching for profanity. Stepan's contracted spirit looked like a greyhound from the translucent blue mist and was a real ace at it. Yes, any spirit could smell this kind of shit if there was a lot of it or it wasn't hidden. But this one was able to distinguish thousands of shades of this filth, to catch it in such a diluted and rarefied state, that the old demon fighter had tears of envy in his eyes. It eats the reserve, however, absolutely mercilessly, and what a dog slouching requests for offerings, and so on. And it does not discount its prices. It's not accepting cheaper substitutes for its favorite gifts. Crumbs and dust from the altars of the light gods are necessarily active and full of power. This is not something that can be easily obtained without a System store, nor is it something that is cheap in that store. And certainly, in ordinary life, you can't come to the main temple of some Light God and ask to chisel off a little bit from his main altar with a chisel. However, as you know, if you put the right question and describe the advantages of the spirit, you can and agree, on the condition that you make the same contract in the name of the Inquisitors.

The dog didn't find any evil, though it ate up the shaman's full reserve, leaving not even a drop of grace in the crumbs from three different altars, just an empty and quite ordinary stone, nothing more. This again both reassured and alarmed Stepan. Because the name, at least part of the demon's name, had appeared in his memory from somewhere. And if a demon has a name as such, then it is not a simple demon, but if this name consists of several parts.... let's just say the singularity at the waist was about to form the event horizon of a black hole. The third spirit, probably the most expensive of all, was summoned directly inside the body and aura, as it worked precisely with the search and purification of filth in its deepest and most disguised manifestations. This spirit was able, with the help of a shaman and proper training, to restore the brains and harmlessly remove the curse even from an old cultist, especially if he was recruited involuntarily, which is the case with ordinary and high-ranking pawns in equal measure. Demons are even better at brainwashing than mentalists. Their very nature, the presence of a pile of devoured souls, allows you to influence the passions and minds of more stable creatures of the material world.

This spirit did not have a clear form or image. It was a small swarm of wisps of dense fog united by a common aspect and sphere. They swarmed in his body and aura simply unbearable, a kind of analog of spiritual tickling, and he still had to help: letting as many spiritual limbs and spiritual body in general outside the flesh shell. Reliable, although expensive, and even with the conditions of image erasure, so as not to leave hired entities even the memory of what your spirit looks like from the inside. That's even more expensive. These guys were also capable of death-reincarnation in case of need, it was their very swarm nature allowed, but they knew how to do it, not practiced it regularly and voluntarily. One had to provide extra payment or simply ignore it, which was even smarter. It's agent work and the perfectionism of the System. speak in Stepan. Ordinary shamans at most contracts-nondisclosure concluded, and for a couple of years only, until all the imprints of the spirits from memory will not leak out under the currents of the ether.

Stepan's soul and spiritual body were not foul, or he wouldn't have been surprised if the first two hadn't found anything. This fact left one more option, the worst and, at the same time, the most successful and positive for the shaman: pure mental-spiritual influence with a connection through a dream. The most obvious of the options. It is not for nothing that the Name was hidden in dreams. It was not for nothing that it came in them originally. It was comforting to influence, seriously influence, the master of shamanism, and even the most skillful in inducing dreams, and being under the protection of several dreamers, even if not outstanding.... let's just say that such creatures are always outnumbered on several worlds around if system erudition is to be believed. And, most likely, if he had met something like that, the young man would either not have woken up at all, or would have woken up as a loyal servant of his mistress with red tits.

Or the master with the red titties. Demons are so creative.

Suppressing a wave of reflexive disgust, Stepan banished unnecessary thoughts and fears from his head. No, there was clearly someone more simple here, someone who had managed to snag the shaman's dreams and try to get deeper into them. It wouldn't have been a problem at all, the contact was so weak it wasn't even serious if it hadn't been for the Name lodged in his memory. The demon or demoness had given him a piece of their self for some reason, the key to controlling themselves. It wasn't the kind of information that any reasonable creature shared willingly. Yes, for an ordinary mortal without a gift, training, experience, and protection, the very knowledge of even part of the name of a strong demon can be fatal, because the Name gives the Connection. But in the case of an experienced gifted, and even a shaman, which is skilled in the control of the spiritual body and works with aggressive shit ... the bridge has two paths. That's why demons do not throw away their images-labels, so take care of them more than anything at all.

And this Тame was given to him after the meeting in the dream, for some reason having erased the meeting and forcing him to forget the dream as best as possible. Dreams are already forgotten, but here the demonic creature made a lot of extra effort. The question is why? The answer is actually quite simple, at least the first part of it. The Name was given to him to establish a connection. Because in a normal situation, his natural defenses would reflect almost any trick, even if Stepan did not wake up at all, and the maximum that would have achieved unknown demoness, is to send wet dreams. Actually, if he understood the timeline correctly, it was something similar that had happened to him then, after the assignment of cleaning up the abandoned shrine. He woke up with a morning boner. But then question number two. If the Name or part of it had been fed to him, fed to strengthen the contact, then what purpose was the creature trying to achieve, and most likely had achieved?

The spirit, which looked like the smallest shining dot that entered the shaman's eyeball, instantly penetrating the spiritual body and turning off consciousness, allowed itself to be bound by a bunch of contracts forbidding any suspicious and harmful actions. Otherwise, the shaman would not have let him into his consciousness. What could the spirit decide to leave in that consciousness for a good memory? Forcibly immersed in the realm of the dream realm, the shaman was fully aware of himself this time, revisiting the images of his dreams. The images were forgotten, erased, as befits the primitive and uncontrolled shamanic dream visions, but somewhere among these shards was the one in which he had met the demoness. The one in which she met him, established a connection, introduced herself by Name, and then tried to erase the memory of the Name, but not the Name itself. And they, the shaman, who took the unformed image of the sleeping self, as well as the point-light, in the world of dreams became a huge motley bird with feathers of pure light of the moon, were looking for answers to these questions.

They found very little, but they did find traces-images of the infernal something that had come into his dreams. An image of oddly shaped eyes with crosses, which he had noted upon awakening, but had not done anything about, as if he had been tempted to discard that detail, and another, much more complete, but carefully erased. An image of scarlet breasts with dark purple nipples, so tantalizing that even in his fully conscious state he was overcome with the desire to focus on that image alone and nothing else, forgetting why he had begun the search in the first place. He didn't need Big Moonbird's help; he managed it himself, peering through the haunting image, seeing the half-forgotten features of an earthy-looking room in the style of American movies, like an expensive psychotherapist's office.

Alas, nothing more could be obtained. The rest of the dreams were erased, but that was enough. The image of the study was very clear, pulling with it other, much better-hidden details, forming a certain picture-understanding. A dialog, a dialog between the sleeper and the one who came to him in his dreams, who came to speak and to talk. The joining spirits of the dreamers also said their word. They too remembered this moment, this conflict, when the guest of Stepan's dreams tried to prevent them from doing their work. And again an amusing fact. The shaman had checked on his servants upon awakening, had learned that something had tried to visit his dreams, and had done nothing. Was the creature's influence in this? Most likely, though one could not rule out a manifestation of his own self-righteous stupidity either. He was simply too well aware of what dreams were and how dreams were influenced through them, and so he saw no reason to panic. It was a mistake, of course, but in his defense, he did a full-blown reserve run through the subtle bodies every morning, especially after too turbulent and chaotic dreams. If there had been any influence there he would have at least noticed it, if not removed it, probably. He knew a few dozen tactics that would allow him to cheat such a check, but, again, it was hard to expect such sneakiness when wandering through wild forests and away from civilization.

"Well, well, well, now I'm fucking intrigued." Squinting unkindly and involuntarily parodying Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin's manner of speech, Stepan said, filled with some wild resentment and anger at the whole world and one as yet unknown creature. "There are two ways to the bridge, aren't there, bitch? And since you came to visit me first, I won't hold myself back."

He wanted to call the demoness by name out of pure schadenfreude and pathos, but he bit his tongue at the last moment. Strong and experienced demons, skilled and ancient enough, may well hear their true name or part of it. Even if called to them on the other side of the world or from a neighboring world. Actually, this is the reason why such names are erased from the memory of people not only demons, but also demon fighters. And that you say so once, another, and on the third between you and Inferno will appear thin, the thinnest even, the connection. A mere mortal to roll away after the marbles and personal cuckoo does not need much.

Except that he was no longer a mere mortal, but a Senior Shaman officially confirmed by the mighty System. And that's why he won't forget and won't forgive the attempt to get into his head, especially considering how this attempt could have ended. Sylvia's games and plans will seem like paradise against the embrace of Inferno. The shaman will get to the city, create a new lair, legalize his presence, and then call the cursed name, either by sending a dozen strong and a couple of older spirits, just on a diet of demoness, or call the female demon with her scarlet tits inside the protection circle. And he will not talk, gloat, or ask about the reasons for her interest in his person. He will not talk at all. He would only summon his entire combat retinue and tear the creature to shreds so small that the largest one would hardly pass for the energy signature of a sick and maimed cockroach.

Because, fuck it.

* * *

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86785/576583

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP