Готовый перевод Быть Гладу и Хладу / There will be Hunger and Cold: 17. Как-то даже кощунственно с его стороны считать, будто это не он тут бесчестно везучий читер

17. It’s even somehow blasphemous on his part to think that he’s not the dishonestly lucky cheater here.

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One of the traits for which Ilya was valued at work and in everyday life was his extreme punctuality and strict adherence to schedules and to himself. He always arrived on time, completed tasks without delay, and never allowed himself to be late unless he gave at least five days' advance notice. So now, having definitely been late for work, he felt a slight pang of shame. As slight as a polyplastic peg in the ass, no less. And the fact that he had notified them of his delay did not comfort him much, nor did the fact that he was undoubtedly not the only one who was late today. Because on the internet, in all its sections, not just on the Forum and among interest groups, there was a real bacchanalia going on.

Even he received messages, many and often, sometimes offering hefty prices for possible consultations, specifically as a specialist in the Broken. He habitually ignored most of these messages without even opening them; he skimmed over some, and even responded to others. He mostly responded with requests for time to review the situation and to not pester him with useless questions. He would have pestered someone with them himself, but the question was who exactly? If anyone knew the answers, it would only be those who were too high-flying and would ignore Ilya's message just as Ilya ignored his.

IridiyBurns: Did you see??? DID YOU SEE??? WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO? WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO???7

KroKroKroKodYYl: Well, you get it. Let's get in touch once things calm down a bit.

Frankly, Ilya's own emotions were closer to what Irina wrote than to the melancholy calm of Magnus, who had clearly already overcome his outburst. A convenient time zone? Most likely, because Ilya was restless for now, constantly getting up from the table, pacing the room, and then browsing the internet, the Forum, and even individual blogs again. Individual bloggers, and those of equal stature, all hinted that they knew everything, know everything, and would definitely tell you, just a little later, especially if you donated. If you donated a lot, they'd tell you personally right now, this very second. But hurry; it is a one-time offer for the first five people who contact them.

Ah, they've already banned it. Mods work quickly.

The communicator beeped. This time, it was the special ringtone Ilya had set for his work contacts. He'd expected threats of dismissal or at least a bonus cut, but instead received an automated message. The message informed him that today, in honor of some holiday, he could come to work in the afternoon because of a shortened workday. Between the lines, there was a suggestion not to come at all, but to stay home or go to the park. Touch the grass, yeah. Most government agencies received similar messages, while private companies continued working as usual. Leaning back in his orthopedic chair, the anonymous diver felt a strong urge to light a cigarette, despite not smoking. Or even to drink, yeah.

The reason for his, and not only his, mood was now displayed on the main monitor and on both side monitors. On the main page was the Forum, and on the side monitors were news channels. The text was the same everywhere, only the reactions of the public and everyone else who was willing to react varied. Apparently, he had indeed slept through most of the drama, but the wave of chaos was only just gathering momentum, threatening to escalate into such a shitstorm that in some metropolitan areas, law enforcement was now deployed onto the streets to prevent any kind of pogrom. And it all began when, right at the end of the cycle, another pinned topic opened on the Forum, created not by people, but by the Mechanism itself, broadcasting a very cheerful piece of news to the front page.

Nine times nine revolutions around the sun have passed since the connection to the functionality of the Game Worlds.

Another milestone in Game World acceptance has been reached. The overall effectiveness of the divers of the Cage World has been assessed.

The result was recognized as outstanding, the awards and recorded events were changed, and the effects and general Incentives were recalculated.

The selection of options for the upcoming Reward has been completed. The final choice of Incentives has been left to those who have reached the maximum development level for the Cage World.

The following Incentive has been voted for: Competitive Tournament between the Cage Worlds.

Guest world residents have had their participation rewards adjusted, making it easier to obtain additional achievements.

[READ MORE]

Ilya, of course, chose to begin his familiarization immediately and didn't rest until he'd reread the rather detailed and sensible instructions several times. In the end, several things could be confidently acknowledged, the most important of which was that the Earth Fives were, to a man, very greedy but also quite thoughtful individuals. They had signed up all the Earth divers for a very fun, and even safe, adventure — death at the upcoming Tournament wouldn't mean the death of the Twin, and even their life pool wouldn't be reduced. But there was so much to gain at this tournament that for most professional divers, participation wasn't really a consideration.

However, here we need to start in order.

Firstly, the fate of all humanity was determined exclusively by those earthlings who had reached the fifth step, and only those still living on Earth. The Great and Terrible Seven, as has been the case since their disappearance, had no involvement in this vote. The Earthly Fives, however, were given an official post on the Forum and promised to give a series of official interviews on a host of important channels. According to them, several options were discussed regarding what the Mechanism of the Great Ancients offered them as a reward for eighty-one years of active Play. And not just any Play, but rather the very serious and outstanding results of play.

Well, arguing here is silly. Just comparing the results demonstrated by Earthlings with those of most other worlds immediately makes Earthlings happy and everyone else sad. The number of divers, the number of fifth and fourth, the overall level of Essence production, statistics on the presence of additional achievements, and other markers cannot be faked. Earth was assessed, inspected, and given a whole host of prizes to choose from. According to White, who posted on the Forum — obviously with veracity confirmed by the Forum — as the informal-formal leader of the Citadel, the longest debate was between the already chosen option and another one. One that would allow each diver to receive between one and seven drops of Essence.

For free, of course, without any unnecessary fuss.

Yes, the option is much more appealing for those who don't want to put in extra effort, but the chosen path, the "Path of Competition," offered far more than the one-time bonus from the "Path of Inaction." Because tournament battles guarantee the chance to raise far more Essence, simply because Earthlings are much better prepared for them. And, obviously, the Fives themselves don't need those paltry seven drops at their levels if they can obtain so much more. Of all people, the Earth Fives have long since become accustomed to thinking about the Broken, not Earth, even if they still live here.

And this moment of choice smoothly shifts the topic to the "second" point, namely, the very essence of the tournament. Such competitions are held regularly, by the Mechanism's standards, and even without delving too deeply into his memories, the Earthling recalled that many worlds had already hosted something similar, inviting their divers to competitions and tournaments of one kind or another. It's just that it was a very long time ago, and during Earth's connection to the Mechanism, no such tournaments had been held. The closest one, as experts in the history of other worlds immediately pointed out, had taken place about one hundred and sixty years ago by Earth's reckoning, and Earthlings had never even encountered inhabitants of the "guest world" in the Broken One. The world, whose effectiveness had earned the right to become the central hub of the tournament itself.

For this type of planet-wide incentive to even be considered, it's necessary to demonstrate that "outstanding" level of effectiveness. And some significant date or event — eighty-one years since joining, for example, yeah. Then the rewarded world, along with a whole host of other game worlds that most frequently interact with this one, will wil be invited to the tournament. It's an invitation, because you don't have to attend, which already sets this tournament apart from the few others the Earthly Fours have managed to find information about, quickly wasting their time on the otherworldly sections of the Forum.

Take, for example, the “Sorrowful Battle” that took place some four hundred years ago. References to this event were found in only a couple of worlds. Wild and practically uncompetitive worlds, where there were fewer than ten fours, and fives were not born at all, or all those who reached this level refused to live in the real world, moving to the Broken One. That tournament, described in dry lines on someone else's Forum, was held according to the rules of a “royal battle,” and death in the tournament meant the removal of the Twin, regardless of how many spare lives there were and how many ways to resurrect had been prepared. Refusal, by the way, was not an option.

It's good that things didn't turn out that way on Earth.

In fact, "thirdly" was precisely this: any diver unwilling to get involved has every right to decline the invitation. The punishment is simply the inability to earn Essence for the next three cycles and the option to take one drop of consolation prize. Or, of course, a far more substantial and tangible reward for those who chicken out — a one-time status effect, activated and usable at any time. An effect that allows one to instantly kill oneself between cycle phases if one gets into some kind of trouble. Some earthlings stuck in a veritable hell will definitely reject this option and prefer to end their stories. The talent only costs one reincarnation, and its activation is possible only at the very beginning or end of a cycle, at the precise moment when the diver's mind synchronizes with the Twin. Forcing this activation through any kind of mental manipulation is definitely impossible, because during these seconds, the diver's essence and its thinking are invulnerable.

Even Ilya wouldn't refuse such insurance, despite all his advantages in terms of mental stability!

If the diver agrees to participate, they are presented with a choice of participation path — either "Choose a Battle" or "Proof of Mastery." The first path is a classic one-on-one battle with a diver from another world of equal rank. The Mechanism will select not just an equal rank, but also "a roughly equal number of drops invested in talents," and "the number of successfully completed dives into the Broken will also be taken into account." There will be nine battles in total, and victory in each will reward, pay attention, seven drops of Essence for the Vessel of Eternity, plus some additional incentive. Moreover, for higher ranks, the reward is multiplied by the rank itself, and the additional gifts are far more significant than mere Essence, which those ranks four and five typically earn in abundance.

At this point, stockbrokers would have started jumping out of windows en masse, but fortunately for them, different rules apply to converting Essence into the real world during the Tournament. No matter how many drops you earn in the Tournament, you can only withdraw one, no more, into reality. Even this could easily cause the market to falter, but at least it won't collapse. Because if it were otherwise, if earthlings had the ability to withdraw a standard, equal number of drops into reality, there would be a whole lot of wailing and lamentation from individuals who have lost their millions. Because it's unlikely that those earthlings would win only one battle out of nine, the population of the third planet from the sun isn't that insignificant. Well, average insignificance, at most.

However, an important clarification in the help was the mention that the matchmaking mechanics are quite flexible and change depending on previous battles. Consistently losing players will be matched against equally unlucky or inept players, or simply less experienced players with fewer drops spent on their Twin. Or even both. Consistently winning players are guaranteed to be matched against either those who are also winning, or stronger players, or against both.

No, this certainly brought Ilya down to earth. With his advantages, he's far from defenseless even against highly skilled players of the same tier; that's a fact. But if he were pitted against some unique player with similar bonuses, for example, the winner of an otherworldly Lottery, he might well be disappointed. Even without the Lottery, consider a basic, top-tier build, with not a single talent missing. How much could he do against some fully-powered "Ardor" Warlock? Well... he could do something, especially with his Horns and Form, but that would be playing on others' mistakes and hoping for luck, nothing more.

The second path is the choice of Alchemists, Drafter, Mechanists, and others who rely on craft or training, possessing the appropriate talents, or Seekers, Sages, or Storytellers, who rely on knowledge and complex tasks. Here, there will be only seven "battles," but the reward for victories is nine drops (and only one will flow to Earth). However, the "battles" themselves will almost always be challenges to mastery rather than fights. You will be given a task that must be achieved by various means, using your talents and the resources provided (or not). In theory, you can even receive a task that does not require an otherworldly opponent. However, most often, such opponents will be present, and the Essence of the competition is to complete your task first. Or better than the second. Or both at once. The opponent selection mechanics are identical to those in the previous version of the competition.

This is the first stage of the tournament.

Exactly the first one. Because, fourthly, there could very well be several of these stages. This depends on the results achieved. Moreover, not all worlds will even be allowed to participate in those stages. Each victory by each diver contributes a certain number of points to the overall score, but how many exactly, what the scale and grading of the evaluation is, no one knows, and the Forum isn't responding. It's entirely possible that even with all their awesomeness (and comparable hubris), Earthlings won't make it to that very next stage.

Finally, fifth, but by no means least important, was the question of time and the relationship between cycles. Because the tournament is taking place in a separate sub-dimension of the Broken and doesn't affect the timestream of the Broken in any way. So, Ilya and Ruyek's next meeting will be in thirty-three days, while the tournament itself will begin in three. And the tournament time will be limited to its participants and no one else. That's where the fun lies. It's an excellent chance to level up, so excellent that Ilya doesn't even think about missing out on an opportunity. He'd hate to miss such an opportunity. However, he's in no rush to agree to participate, especially since he's only just woken up, and it would be strange to return to the Star.

The main thing is to submit your consent to participate before the end of the deadline.

And also to assess the prospects for the future. Assess and understand that the Earth's top leaders have chosen the best possible option for Earth. Specifically for the divers, not for Earth in general. Because yes, the states and the Assembly would clearly prefer them to choose the "Path of Wealth," which simply increases the Essence gain in Reality, giving three drops in Reality for each drop in the dive for the next nine cycles. Or the "Path of Inaction," which in the short term covered a very significant portion of Essence needs, given many complex projects. But the Fives chose for themselves and other Earthlings, choosing what would give them the maximum possible.

Ilya imagined what would happen if a Diver, having won at least half of the matches, invested the essence they'd earned into themselves, even allowing for the opportunity to ask how to do it correctly. By the end of the tournament, even by the most conservative estimates, Earth Diver players, especially those at the very bottom of the skill tree, lacking both essence and the ability to obtain it for talent upgrades, but with decent builds, would see a significant, if not exponential, increase in power. Take Ilya himself, for example. Participating in this tournament would allow him to fill some of the gaps on his talent meter and hone his combat skills in a safe environment.

You can't even say which of these is more valuable.

After rereading the information a few more times, he finally got up from the table, got dressed, and got ready for work. He'd at least sit there for the sake of appearances, and at the same time "confidentially" share that he'd landed a lucrative contract in his second specialty, which is why he was so happy and, on top of that, late. And he needed to contact Irina too, just to calm her down, otherwise she might start acting up again in her excitement. A very interesting cycle, or rather, a whole series of microcycles, was definitely ahead.

Ilya will take from them everything he can.

And even a little bit more than that.

* * *

As has long been the custom on Earth, even before Ilya's birth, many divers traditionally try to indulge in a good party before the start of the cycle. Often, these parties are even more extensive than those immediately after the end of the cycle, when they celebrate the successful completion of another dive. Some describe these events as attempts to recruit FoFa to their side, to redeem his merciless and inhuman mercy. But for Ilya, the underlying motive was obvious and clear — fear drove them, perhaps not all of them, but certainly most of them. Fear of ending up there again, returning to the hell from which they had barely escaped, and now are forced to try again and again. To try to survive one more time, to deceive the Broken One again, and still be able to keep their own.

The tradition of calling on FaFo is not as widespread as the almost sacred duty to get drunk after diving, which brings crazy profits to the entertainment and leisure industry. Many prefer a more intimate setting and an attempt to relax in peace, perhaps even in a romantic setting. To preserve warm memories of Earth, so that there are more reasons to want to return there. But this time, the classic patterns were trampled, expectations were shattered, and the owners of all kinds of clubs, restaurants, and other establishments of this kind were left only to weep, wiping their snot and tears with a wad of crisp bills. Figuratively speaking, of course, because cash is practically not in circulation outside of the social neighborhood.

Three days for a break before the next cycle is a very short time, insignificant even, though not comparable to the shortest breaks between cycles known on Earth. Apparently, in one of the unnamed Game Worlds, there was once a twelve-minute pause between cycles, as measured by Earth. However, aside from a post on someone else's Forum, nothing much is known about this, only the bare fact that it happened. Earthlings have more time, significantly more, plenty of time to absorb the coming events and begin generating unhealthy excitement. By the end of the day, when Ilya finally arrived at work and even sat there for half an hour in the nearly empty office, searching for any information online had become utterly impossible.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of messages were added to popular threads per minute, making it impossible to find answers to any questions. Experts and bloggers replaced one another, sometimes devolving into swearing and lawsuits, sometimes even into full-blown fistfights on live TV. A battle between two teams of four, both of whom had their own talents in the real world, was particularly noteworthy, nearly destroying the studio of a popular talk show where they had been invited as experts. Fortunately, both were smart enough not to use anything truly large-scale, only defensive talents, buffs, and close combat. Two casters, Warlock and Summoner, might have looked ridiculous fighting in brutal melee combat, but Ilya's perception simply couldn't keep up with their movements without slowing down the recording.

They both got hit with some pretty harsh penalties and community service, which was pretty normal in the Treaty world. The Treaty did not restrict such actions; on the contrary, it encouraged strict control and punishment of those who started fights using their talents in reality. And even the reasons are not very important, if you think about it. Yes, strong divers of high steps are allowed to do a lot, but not everything, not everything at all. In general, this couple should not have used their active talents; then it would have been fine, but try to prove that to two grown-up and very experienced hot guys if their opponent is WRONG. Ilya, by the way, was rooting for Alexander “Raven” Krolikov, who not only has an excellent U-turn kick but also had more compelling arguments.

Richard “The Damned” Collins is a great specialist in battles with other gifted individuals. In his sector of Broken, there is an incredibly high concentration of strong natives. There are eight fives among the local kings and almost fifty fours on top of that, so he had to learn. In fact, this is a very small number in relation to the fives, if you think about it, but this is understandable because the long-established society of those very kings does not need potential competitors, and therefore there are many hundreds of threes in that part of Broken, but those who have moved up to the fourth step are most often beaten up by the crowd to discourage others.

This is just for the record, to understand how cold-blooded and dangerous “Sweet Richie” is. For fifteen years, he has been leading a small but tough community of local resistance fighters, or perhaps a terrorist organization, made up of divers from various worlds. The divers are being brutally eliminated there in particularly painful ways at the state level. For there was once a prophecy that said that the “sacred order of life and power” would be trampled upon when the Eight Royals were killed by the Ninth Stranger, who came from nowhere to harm them.

To be honest, the locals there are so messed up and so persistent in killing divers that the Damned have become almost the only interworld community consisting of Earthlings and Pure Ones, or rather, the single Pure One. He seems to be a nobleman, but he has been brought up to understand the reality of the situation and has lost most of their moronic stupidity. When the lords of Sarshakh-Nere learned that one of them had dared to enter into an alliance with the infidel Assemblymen (just then, the earthlings had severely punished the fanatics in several developed sectors), they demanded that he, then only a freshminted first step, immediately turn the local natives against them. The Sarshakh-Nere authorities do not like Earthlings; they really do not like them.

The man, who was no angel, assessed his chances of survival, as well as how he had been treated in his homeland, where he had been literally treated like shit for standing next to an earthling in battle, spitting, smoking hashish, and cutting himself off from his real body by moving to Broken. Forever. After that, he became the right-hand man of Collins, who appreciated such loyalty. He was the only four step of their community, besides Richard, with whom they fought in such a steadfast combat pair. So steadfast that people wrote yaoi fanfiction about the poor guy in all seriousness, and it was very popular! Well, in his homeland, Makhlash-Tavar is not recognized as the sixteenth of their world to reach the fourth level, but as a walking anathema, whose name has been erased from all mentions except the Forum.

And they banned mentioning it on the Forum, too. Yes.

Among the very few opponents of the main rulers of Sarshakh-Nere, the figure of Malshakh is considered iconic and highly revered, but he is in no hurry to call them to the main community. As the Pure themselves joke, among those rebellious souls, every third is an informant for the Pure Watch, every second is a secret agent, and every first is a provocateur paid by the same Watch. And the sad truth is that this joke is not really a joke at all, but rather self-irony.

However, returning to the topic of the conflict that had just ended. Richard was an expert in warfare against gifted individuals in their territory, a kind of saboteur and terrorist, and he spoke from experience. The notorious Raven, on the other hand, was a duelist, a champion of many tournaments, a winner of championships, and a favorite of the public. And the Shadow's Favorite viewed the impending problem from the perspective of a duelist, not a pure warrior. So, no matter how much Ilya respected the Damned One's experience, at that particular moment, he trusted the opinion of the “horror flying on the wings of night” more. No, seriously, the earthling chose this phrase as his motto, and in the images of the Broken One, this quote from an ancient flat-screen cartoon sounded much more ominous than it did to earthlings. In the case of a series of one-on-one fights, it was precisely the relevant experience...

* * *
"...will prove decisive, but this, like all the other versions, is purely a personal opinion and an equally personal understanding of the situation, Ira." He finished his speech, immediately disclaiming responsibility, saying he could also be wrong, but the situation was too unusual, and he had no examples to draw statistics from. "The choice is yours, especially the choice of tactics, of course."

"What choice is there, Il?" The girl just waved her hand irritably, as if shooing away a fly, her face expressing apprehension, anticipation, and greed all at once. "Dying is unpleasant, and unpleasant dying is even worse, but... But you read it yourself! Such a chance to level up... I can close the entire base of the build, or at least I can move on to the second trait. I'll bring the same base to the third step, no problem. And at the same time, there's no threat of spending all the Vessels and screwing up the Twin! You'd have to be a complete idiot to refuse!"

No, there's no arguing with that. Ilya himself thought the same, just not so categorically, and a number of divers who became divers more by chance and without proper training, or with crooked builds, will clearly choose not to participate, receiving either a drop of consolation or an assisted suicide button. And he didn't really share Irina's enthusiasm for closing the basics for her class and specializing in the cursed flame of talents, automatically issuing the combination of “Flame of the Soul” and “Heat Within.” Yes, basic talents affect the brain more weakly than others. If you build is correct. But he would still prefer to invest in compensators first. With her talent card, there could be some extremely interesting aspects there. In fact, he personally calculated and considered these aspects. Despite the fact that her build was still standard and classic, he preferred to check the calculations himself.

"Don't rush into using your talents, try to keep it 1,5 to 1 or you'll burn out at work." Dark humor, yes, but Warlocks often suffer from a mania for self-immolation, more often than not a mania for burning everyone around them, not themselves. "The choice is yours, though, I'm just an advisor."

And so, every monitor broadcasts the Assembly's paid social propaganda about the gold standard for leveling up for the first stage, the very same “1,5 ещ 1.” Where for one and a half combat talents develop one compensator talent, until you close all compensator talents or go for next step. More often than not, it's the latter. Not everyone here is Ilya; not everyone upgrades their talents to the cap, leaving the least necessary part undeveloped. However, this is annoying advertising and propaganda, which the diver himself considered completely justified, even though it kind of hypocrisy on his part. On average, “one and a half to one” reduces the likelihood of obtaining the most powerful aspects, but the likelihood of psychosis decreases much more noticeably.

"I appreciate your help." She could have done without all that affection, patting him on the shoulder as if he were some kind of dog. "And then every acquaintance who knew about it gave me a bunch of advice. Go, don't go, leave, don't take the risk, don't miss your chance! And not a single one of them said, “Well, decide for yourself!” Even Oleg, that scumbag, sent me a message! Of course, I immediately filed a complaint, because he's not allowed to contact me, but still!"

Ilya thought that the fact that Irina's friends and acquaintances simply do not include any experienced divers who would say exactly the same thing as Ilya played a role. Furthermore, it appears that the list of “those in the know” about her diving status is already so extensive that this secret is about as secret as the cast of the next attempt to reboot the Marvel franchise, only now in Broken. In the sense that this information consistently leaks onto the internet and the Forum almost faster than it can be formalized and approved.

Perhaps that is why Irina is not drinking with her noisy friends right now, but is sitting with Ilya, drinking synthetic coffee that is almost indistinguishable from the real thing and eating sweet pastries. This small, cozy café, hidden in the stone cage of a hefty skyscraper with a standard hundred floors, did not have a single window. Even the door was inconspicuous, with practically no signage, except for a minimalist sign. It was truly a place “for its own,” and Ira's friend worked there, so she was one of “her own.” This trip to the cafe was very timely, because now it has become impossible to find a normal place for quiet gatherings anywhere in the city or on the entire planet.

"I'll probably still participate. I won't forgive myself, I'll be tormented by greed." Her smile is slightly sad; she clearly doesn't want to die again or fight a competent opponent, but here, Ilya can honestly say that she's underestimating herself, for she's trained to fight and wields Gemini at a level worthy of the average Earthling, which is quite a lot. "Especially since the cycle ended well, absolutely fantastic, so well!"

And there's no arguing with that, either. The girl with the nomadic tribe following the Guiding Star, accompanied by a young Grave Robber, had done quite a bit of damage to the desert undead and other fauna with her scythe. The Bedouins obviously deliberately altered their route to encounter more interesting lairs or ruins. They didn't dare touch those they themselves, with only a single gifted boy, had encountered. But the partnership of the Warlock and the Grave Robber proved far more interesting and profitable; many a beast found its final resting place in her flames and under the attacks of her colleague. Relations with the natives who sheltered her also remained stable and even; they made no advances, and she practically became friends with the boy.

Incidentally, he still doesn't look at her as a woman, which caused Irina to harbor a carefully concealed, irrational resentment. Either he truly has become impotent due to a build error, or he can't get a boner with pale-skinned girls, or Irina simply doesn't notice the attention. Or she doesn't tell him about it to avoid making him jealous. The latter possibility is entirely possible, even if she can't even imagine how little he cares about what's going on in Broken. They're not yet at the level of a relationship where they can talk about fidelity, although they are slowly approaching it.

"Then, of combat talents first of all, pump up the “Flash of Flame” and “Bonfire Lights,” leave “Ignition by Will” for later, closer to the mid of the first step." He repeats it once again, and she writes it down once again. “With stabilizers, everything is classic, don't worry about it, and read what's on the Encyclopedia page; you don't have any critical differences in your build yet. If ”Taming the Flame“ gives you ‘Peace’ or ”Calm" aspects, don't take a similar aspect, but only if it appears in Taming. With this talent, such aspects are almost three times more effective than with the same “Lock Heat.”

They parted quite contentedly. They left at a café, where they both left generous tips for Irina's friend, and both insisted on splitting the bill. Ilya wasn't keen on feeling like a kept man, just without the "social" prefix, and Irina was willing to acknowledge his solvency without diminishing her own. In any case, they didn't have time to argue about who was financially secure and who was broke, because they started kissing as soon as they climbed into the driverless taxi.

Ira left, tired and satisfied, only in the morning, leaving Ilya to recover with a tube of fruit paste for breakfast and a cup of an invigorating drink with an indescribable flavor. By this point, he already knew that the next few days were considered holidays in Europe, and that only those responsible for infrastructure worked in the public sector, but even there, most people were given the opportunity to leave early. Everyone seemed to be in a frenzy. The divers argued with each other until they were hoarse, and the top divers on Earth were showered with equal parts admiration and select guano. On the one hand, they gave a bunch of people the opportunity to strengthen their skills and earn money; on the other, they could choose a banal cash prize without the unnecessary risk of death.

The fact that death in this mini-cycle is incredibly cheap and not dangerous for Gemini does not mean that dying is even slightly pleasant. And here you have to fight nine times against an equal or conditionally equal opponent! That is, yes, no one is pulling you by the hand, take it and refuse, but still a lot of negativity poured out on the fives - who gave them the right to decide and determine destinies, huh? The responses of most of the pro-divers boiled down to these smart alecks reaching the required level themselves and vetoing other people's votes. Just take a six, and immediately everyone will tiptoe around you and bow three times, taking off their hats from their bald heads.

Law enforcement agencies have already reported preventing dozens or even hundreds of pogroms, arresting a bunch of irresponsible welfare recipients who decided to cash in on the chaos, as well as no fewer than eight full-scale terrorist attacks by opponents of the Game. Merging in passionate ecstasy, Luddites, radical Muslims, and equally radical Orthodox and Catholic fundamentalists have once again raised their seemingly severed heads and nearly blown up a large nightclub where representatives of one of the relatively large communities of seventeen people were partying that day.

Ilya noted this point because the club was not just in his neighborhood, but literally four blocks away. He had been there several times when they took him out for corporate parties! So much for a safe city, the heart of Europe, my ass! Although, to be honest, it really is safe, because they prevented it. They even posted a description of the operation on the forum, because among the representatives of the strike group, which was catching the Luddite terrorists, there was a real diver-troika, and possibly more than one. One of them, Taras Gol, or Terracotta, seems to hold an important position in Good Omens, a very closed community that hardly ever shares information about itself on the forum, only individual reports and guides on various levelling issues. But they don't engage in correspondence or cheerful arguments on the network, at least not under their main nicknames.

Among the conspiracy theorists on the Forum, every first one considered this community to be a separate branch of state security, either in Europe or directly in the Assembly, and at certain moments, Ilya was ready to believe it. Almost all of the publicly known members of this community are connected in one way or another to the security services. And in Broken, they operate in a similar way — cloaks, daggers, intrigue, and then a targeted operation to eliminate someone or destroy something. There were as many as five official Seekers for every sixty Earth fighters and thirteen otherworlders. Three were at the first step, one at the second, and another either at the second or third.

Yawning and scratching his buttock, the diver, fresh out of the shower, began redrawing a simplified version of the Star of Dreams to confirm his participation in the tournament, while reading his mail and corresponding with several individuals at once. With Magnus, everything went extremely quickly and easily. Just last night, he received a message about the transfer of thirteen drops of essence to an anonymous account linked to the Forum. And, of course, they just chatted a little. The conversation boiled down to discussing how unexpected and amazing this tournament was, how their fives were equally awesome and freaky, and how no one would refuse to participate in something like this — even if you lost all nine battles, you would at least gain experience fighting other divers.

He lay down to sleep right on the mattress in Star, just like on that memorable night when he underwent his initiation, only this time he turned off the computer with a voice command. Another promise to turn a clumsy novice into a real tournament fighter in the remaining two, or rather, one and a half days, had made its way through the spam filters. They ban them, ban them, but they keep growing, the damn scammers. Human greed and stupidity are ineradicable and inseparable, coexisting in perfect harmony. They have always been and always will be. Just like the Mechanism, for example, or a noisy neighbor who turns on loud music in the middle of the night.

He slept like a baby and didn’t dream of anything.

* * *

Ilya spent the last day before the Challenge diligently doing nothing. What was the point of bothering? Apparently, even the top five step players didn't have any in-depth information about the tournament, and even if they did, no one would tell him. What was there to prepare for, what guides to study, if nothing was clear? So he didn't study, preferring to relax and await the appointed hour, sipping some fruit water and eating the food he'd ordered. No one showed up for work, but he still started a rumor that he'd been paid handsomely for several consultations about the Broken, specifically about tournaments of all kinds. He even transferred fifty credits to his official account for the purpose. By the way, he did receive such offers, but he declined them all.

First of all, the ridiculous payment deterred me, especially since it was strictly post facto, despite the Forum offering a certified payment obligation. This is a typical situation, by the way, when a diver buys some information or assistance through the Forum, and then the next drop (or drops) of essence automatically goes to pay for the service rendered. Well, if such a diver has those drops at all, of course, but there are lovers of risky investments with an unclear maturity date. Other options required very fast work, meaning completely sleepless days before the tournament, which he definitely did not intend to do.

He's gotten spoiled, yes, but he has a reason to get spoiled. Previously, he could easily have worked seventy-two hours without sleep for forty-five credits on energy drinks and even bought some invigorating and quasi-narcotic drugs at the legalized market. But now he has slightly different priorities, and this, frankly, pleasantly stroked his ego, especially considering the anonymous account that holds his drops. Perhaps sometimes you need to allow yourself to go against your instincts and simply relax, contemplating the world around you.

He had done this before, dedicating the end of the recreation cycle to it, but only if there was really nothing else to do, if he had already done everything necessary. And now he didn't even take on that work... although much had been done, just well in advance. He had already done the same work with the build analysis a long time ago; all that remained was to distribute the drops and choose the aspects that would fall out. In general, excitement and panic have never brought anyone excessive happiness, but funny videos won't watch themselves, and forum topics won't scroll by on their own.

The Forum was still buzzing so much that it wasn't even funny. Everyone sensed the end of the Cycle was coming and rushed to leave their expert opinions. Against this backdrop, many important details were overlooked. Take, for example, the suspicions that the Citadel was planning to use the corpse of the recently hunted angler-four for a ritual to raise the rank of one of its trios. Or the epic reconciliation between the highest ranks of the Mechanical Wonder, who ultimately divided their trophies and did not descend into an American version of the Three Kingdoms.

However, he only skimmed through the news and didn't bother with the most popular topics, which were currently in chaos. Ilya preferred smaller-scale communities, and his favorite topics for collecting particularly notable events of the cycle, where any mention of the tournament was already being banned. It got to the point of absurdity — a second-level Gladiator from Earth won a local tournament in Broken, and just at the end of the cycle, he received an award from the local city-ruler, but he was autobanned for this news. Then the moderators apologized very awkwardly, yes.

It was impossible to compile statistics on the most incredible adventures of Earthlings in this cycle of Broken, but several favorites have already stood out in just three days. Several groups successfully cleared the lacunas, in one case without any losses on their part. This would not be particularly surprising, were it not for the fact that the gap was a step above the entire group — a complete second facet with an axis line in the form of the ill-fated “swamp gears.” But here, it was a lucky coincidence that the group had classes that were perfectly suited to the terrain and the inhabitants of the swampy labyrinth. Three Druids, only one of whom was an earthling, two Hunters, a Soul Slayer, two Marauders, a Shaman, a Sage, and a very well-leveled Storyteller. The cursed eleven, a veritable hell for lovers of the Broken, but they handled it brilliantly.

You read the report on the cleanup and your soul rejoices — not a single unnecessary movement, not a moment's delay, not a single moment of stupidity. The guys clearly chose a high-speed mode of movement, not allowing themselves to be poisoned and rotten by the toxic aura inside the lacuna, managing to attack the axis before the sub-ground gears spun the ancient mechanism and burned their brains out of sync. However, the risks were great — a case not too common for the lacuna of the second step, when it was quite possible to lose the Twins completely, especially the first step one.

No, they were ready to retreat; at most, the roof would have leaked a little from the induced madness, and psychosis would have set in. But they went into battle as a whole community, risking everything. Even if they had managed to leave when they realized they couldn't cope, the gear would have called them back, called them back. And the poor wretches had no one who could hold back their comrades walking back into the lacuna, drawn by the call. The second-step sub-ground mechanisms... these could open the way to the lacuna even in the nearest swampy puddle, no matter how far the marked axis had strayed from the main lacuna.

The couch generals at the Forum figured out the most important thing: the members of the Community of Undead Poets (the official name of the community) turned out to be lucky young (the oldest is now twenty-six, almost all of them were initiated at sixteen or seventeen) idiots who miraculously avoided the game over, or wise veteran gosu who correctly calculated the risks and took the grand prize? In this regard, Ilya supported the former rather than the latter, because the risk was simply too great, but he realized that envy was also a factor. Despite all his coolness, he would not have been able to pull off something like that. Neither in a group, nor on his own.

Well...

If there is a suitable lacuna and convenient opponents with a mental component at the core of their attack, if the axial creature is from the same cohort and unable to engage in physical combat... Even the same brains-in-jars, homunculus bases without a retinue of brute guards! Yes, a very unique type of lacuna, completely non-standard, but this also resulted in a non-standard typification, which they took advantage of. Now it was interesting to see if he could correctly play out his brain's resilience with such inputs. Realizing that he was seriously thinking about whether he had a chance to pass the second-level lacuna solo, he shuddered.

No, no, no, Ilya isn't like that. He wouldn't go there, even if he found a lacuna like that.

The top nominees for the funniest moments in Broken in this cycle are not very funny, even sad, but time is to blame for that. Usually, Ilya would start watching these nominations towards the end of his stay on Earth, when the voting had already determined the winners. But now there was something to laugh about, although the humor was often extremely crude. Or just so dark that it made the room go black. Ah, no, it was just that the lamps had switched to dim mode, because it was already late in the evening. He cast his vote for the story of personal performance, posted by the official third step, without the community. Yes, yes, precisely the performance, because the poster was the Sinister Mocker, who had evolved from an ordinary Jester.

A lone wolf of such a high step, who achieved success not only without the help of earthlings and community, but also without any help from the natives, is an extraordinary figure. There are plenty of such successful lone wolves with a mania for solo leveling in the early stages of the first level. Then, as they mature a little, they realize that obtaining Essence alone is a long, difficult, sad, and often humiliatingly painful process. But David Neale, of all people, managed not to get depressed even in such a situation and lit the star of his glory. Moreover, his class allowed him to develop himself more flexibly and comprehensively than typical fighters, albeit not without its difficulties.

There are very few high-level loners on Earth. There are barely a dozen of the third step, especially if we count only those who always try to act alone on principle. Almost all of them are some form of Hermit, but there are exceptions, such as the once again famous David. This time, his period of silence lasted almost ten Cycles, interrupted only by rare publications. One of them was not a description of his “jokes,” but a bold monograph on the subject of developing talents tied to the emotional response of the crowd and ways to use that response to combat the desynchronization of Twin.

And now, a triumphant return.

Ilya couldn't help but smile as he read the lines confirmed by the Forum and evaluated the images. To be honest, everyone's faces there were just one big mess! This time, David didn't just go to the nearest town, but to the ducal palace, where the annual fashion show was held. Well, not exactly a fashion show. It was a demonstration of the skills of gunsmiths, armourers, artifact makers, and mechanics from across the Broken sector. It was a peculiar mix of a science exhibition, a show of offal, and a political event.

This time, the winner in the best armor category was supposed to be (actually, already was, everything was decided in advance, and the show was just for show) a true master, a rising star who had just taken a third step. His new series of enchanted armor, down to the last rivet, was impressive in all respects. After reading the description, Ilya himself would not have been ashamed to wear it if he had chosen the class of the Executioner, Renegade, or Soulslayer. There was only one problem, a small cheat, which could not even be called a cheat — the basis of the artifact complex was powered by sacrifices, bloody and cruel.

To be fair, this time it wasn't children who were killed, but the second consecutive episode of child sacrifice in the context of collecting jokes seemed a bit excessive. No, no, no children, their banal lives are too short to fuel the furnace in which the Sacred Blacksmith created his works. It wasn't children who were thrown into the furnace of ruthless progress, but half-men, that is, ordinary dwarves. Not a race from old fantasy, but people suffering from dwarfism. Something to do with the concept of concentration, of better tightening of parts, which meant that the armor was not fastened at all, but the small details fit together on their own.

Apparently, David Neale, nicknamed Fast Feet, didn't know that jokes about dwarfs are inappropriate, that he should be above that. He sneaked into this fashion show and used a whole range of talents, among which Ilya quickly recognized “Inappropriate Humor,” “Connection of Parts,” “Attention Control,” “Audience Favorite,” “Questionable Wit,” and at least a dozen others that he wasn't entirely sure about. The talents seemed to be well-studied and all that, but what the Jester of the third step did with them! A Jester who managed to link his joke to the concept of sacrificed dwarfs and the size of armor, each of which was worth its weight in gold!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHbYTm8U1v8

The armor, which in an instant had become so small that it would not even fit a primary school student, retained and even enhanced its protective magic properties by concentrating that magic in a smaller volume. And not only protective, but there were also offensive and supportive elements. It was clear that His Majesty Mastitaris VIII, known as the Kind, was not at all pleased that he would have to forget about equipping his guard with new toys. Or that he would now have to search among his loyal people for particularly combative and loyal dwarves to whom he could give this armor.

Just these, yes.

Because the most powerful armor, the most enchanted, the bloodiest, and the most imbued with secret magic was worn by their creator. Well, to demonstrate the entire arsenal embedded in these exoskeletons disguised as pseudo-medieval armor. And when the Jester made his joke, the man was literally crushed into a bloody pulp, because he was over two meters tall, broad-shouldered and powerful, like a bull. He probably took the “Bull Strength” talent to three or even four steps. It twisted the “poor fellow” to death immediately, and it was not without the activation of the “Funny Situation” talent, because it was clearly no accident that the victim was twisted in such a way that his own feet literally knocked out his teeth, pushing his chain mail leggings deeper into his mouth, which was open in agony.

Then there was an escape, accompanied by comments and jokes, some funny, some not so funny, but always bloody. There was a large cake thrown in the face of the blacksmith's brother, who had been the Charmancer of the second step, but the cake turned out to be filled with sharp blades and etched needles, cutting off the face and most of the skull of the aristocrat who wanted revenge. This is a purely earthly moment, borrowed from classic cartoons from the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. Just apply it to a pre-prepared cake with a special filling called “Magician's Pocket” (in the vernacular of Central and Eastern Europe, this talent is referred to by the not-so-descent term “get it out of your ass”) and strike at the right moment.

Not bad. And it's precisely in the spirit of Earth's old moral school, the very one represented by the Citadel now, which proclaims the simple truth that bloodthirsty bastards must suffer. Of course, many Earthlings themselves commit acts that would make some natives scratch their heads in respect, but it's still nice to see evil receive retribution. Who knows, maybe the dwarf souls stuffed into that armor will receive some form of not just peace, but retribution. Peace is unlikely for them, considering those souls were broken down into sacred parts and woven into enchanted steel.

Ilya spent the final hours of the countdown, blindly jumping between guest threads, the ones he'd visited before, playing a game of changing the thread as soon as he read three mentions of the tournament. So far, none had lasted longer than three minutes. There were, however, some very interesting moments, like the latest Possessed build reveal, and some were simply touching. Among the divers were a wide variety of people, with a wide variety of destinies, and for some, those destinies ended, at least on Earth.

Comments: 1 of 481

So familiar and yet so different every time is the feeling of hanging between there and here, the feeling of being a hooked fish, pulled out of the water by an avid fisherman.

The head is empty, there are no doubts, no desires either, only an intention – subtle and sharp, like a blade.

The intention to kill and not be killed.

* * *

The differences between this dive and the standard one were very, very clear. First and foremost, he didn't open his eyes to a new world, but once again found himself suspended in the void between nowhere and never, aware of the choice before him. Battle or Sacrament — that was the question before him, two paths now open to hundreds of thousands of Earth divers, millions of their colleagues from across the observable and obscure universe. For him, the question didn't exist. With just his "violin" talent, he couldn't even attempt to win a mastery contest among those whose classes were best suited for it. So, only battle, only blood and death, which is what he chose. Or rather, he didn't choose; he merely recognized his choice, and then the opportunity to choose passed, and he was transported to a new point.

The Mechanism itself considered his determination and decision, seeing no need to continue the pause and allow him to change his mind.

Ilya stood on a platform suspended in absolute darkness, covered in faintly glowing glyphic symbols, mysterious and eerie in the current environment. The symbols were an extremely complex and sacred form of the universal and unified dialect of the Broken. In short, Ilya could easily read them, just as easily recognizing the Word of the Pantheon, a long-since-defunct prayer addressed to all the Dead at once. The part of him that loved riddles and questions drooled over these symbols, eager to study and analyze them immediately. The part of him that had a little more brainpower immediately switched his consciousness to business mode.

It wasn't the fight yet, but it was time before the fight. He, like many other divers, had accumulated a few drops he hadn't had time to spend during the normal cycle. This platform, this empty blackness, was designed precisely for expending these reserves and coming into battle fully prepared. And he had plenty to spend. Since his last promotion, when he'd deposited the milestone hundredth drop, he'd accumulated another seventy-five drops of Essence. A cosmic number for a first-stage diver; he couldn't help but shake with greed and the desire to invest as quickly as possible. And with the terror of making a mistake and wasting all those drops in a particularly epically stupid way.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, Ilya doesn't make any last-minute changes to his plan, focusing on the talents he'd originally targeted for promotion according to his pre-planned approach. Yes, the Tournament didn't quite fit with the general idea of ​​how to earn drops, but Ilya wouldn't change his build for it. No sane Diver would drastically alter their planned build for the sake of a quick, one-time gain. Or rather, many would risk it for the Tournament, as the Twin is promised a ton of drops... but one thing Ilya has no problem with is earning Essence.

Bloody gold flows upward from the altar with a breathtaking ease, like an avalanche, like a flood, engulfing the ancient stone. Gold and blood merge, flowing into the stone, into the moss covering it, turning into mist, cloaking everything around, and finally, the first ascent is complete. The moss and lichen, barely visible beneath a layer of snow and ice, have become a little thicker, a little more vibrant, a little stranger. It seems to have acquired volume, a deeper essence, organically complementing the primordial designs carved into the stone. It has become predatory, reaching out to those nearby, as if seeking to bite, to cling, to burrow within.

Child of Nature (Base): 2/3 (Essence invested: 0/20)

The essence of the Wendigo is the hunt and the thirst for prey, which they seek to satisfy their Hunger, which, in fact, makes them very close to many animals and creatures blessed by an indifferent and merciless Nature. Wild territories replenish strength and can strengthen the body and spirit with wild natural magic.

Wild animal power fills the Wendigo with strength, significantly strengthening its body and spirit, increasing resistance, sharpening instincts and perception, significantly facilitating the existence of a beast and the hunt for prey; the Wendigo hiding in the Nature locations becomes somewhat more difficult to notice or detect by scanning.

Embraced: There is no pity in Nature, no forgiveness or kindness, only a pragmatic and emotionless desire to live, to be, to reproduce, and to thrive. Those who allow Nature to embrace them are doomed to her love, but this love is cruel and merciless to those who dare not be beasts. A Wendigo who has accepted Her mercy gains an extraordinary acceleration in the restoration of strength and reserves, and also becomes even stronger in the midst of wild territories, but with closeness to Nature comes an animalistic essence. The more you indulge it, the less you differ from the beast, which you can never fully become.

Another extremely necessary passive improvement, serving as a building block for the truly powerful aspects of the highest divisions of his strongest class talents. At the same time, “Embraced” is a very useful aspect in itself, giving him the very advantage that allowed him to destroy a well-coordinated trio of liquidators and completely wipe out the next trio. Pure physics — speed, survivability, resistance to enemy attacks, and magic. He is now comparable to a highly skilled Martyr, Executioner, and Marauder at once, in terms of the strongest aspects of each of these classes.

Yes, he cannot survive with the top of his skull cut off, like that freak who chased him through the snow, but his pierced heart will not only not kill him, he will also be able to calmly finish the fight and only then begin to recover. Of course, if the damage is inflicted by attacks without additional suppressive properties. His punches won't split a rock in two, but he can make a pretty big dent in it if he puts his mind to it. His reaction speed is on par with Marauders or Gladiators, even the stronger ones, as he recently found out through direct empirical experience.

That's what it means when you don't have any compensatory talents.

Add to all this the ability to draw even more power from the wild terrain and partially merge with it, becoming not invisible, but difficult to detect by scanning spells, and everything will be fine. Especially considering that his amplification from the wilderness and his merging with it become stronger over time spent in the bond, albeit at the cost of increasing pressure on his brain. Alas, the comment that Wendigo will not be able to become completely one with Nature, to completely turn into a beast, must also be taken into account.

In purely numerical terms, this is the maximum limit. The degree of pumping after which the raging Hungor and the cage of Cald inside him will begin to give way and crack along with Ilya's energy. Accelerate himself to one and a half or even two times his normal strength, if he has time for half an hour of meditation? Easy and simple, and exactly half an hour, not half a day, because he doesn't care about the psychological damage from the speed of merging with the Nature. Ordinary possessors of this talent are much more cautious; their acceleration is weaker, slower, and does not last long, and they use the talent itself almost entirely as a useful passive ability.

Ilya could maintain his enhancement for days, until he collapsed from exhaustion and lack of sleep, or until he entered some city, fortress, mine, or other stronghold of civilization. But to do the same as with his Eye or, say, his Breath, amplifying his talent by almost an order of magnitude — no, his energy wouldn't be able to withstand it, and it wouldn't have been able to withstand it much earlier. There's no room for Nature in the Wendigo's frozen body; he's not a Druid. It's a shame, really. More than any other class, a Druid, focused on ultimate utterance, would benefit from absolute mental stability. But the Mechanism didn't offer him that option. Otherwise, a new Wendigo would never have appeared in the Broken.

He didn't really consider the other options, as they were too specific compared to the almost mandatory “Embrace.” Both ‘Son’ and “Bastard” were more suited to pure casters or tanking defenders, but not to Ilya's build. The former significantly increased regeneration and self-healing and greatly expanded the limits of the reserve, while at the same time complicating its continuous use — you would strike powerfully and densely, but rarely and slowly. This is a kind of remark on the fact that Nature additionally protects and nourishes her beloved son, but also limits him at the same time. Incidentally, this aspect is also good for group work, as all “wild” methods of strengthening and healing work better and with less effort on such an individual. A healer's dream, the ideal patient.

The second aspect is almost the complete opposite of the first, meaning the illegitimate bastard of Nature itself, forcibly taking everything he wants without asking and without his mother's approval. The reserve will decrease significantly, becoming meager and shallow, but the speed of its replenishment will increase proportionally, and the ability to strongly vampirize the surrounding territory will appear. Not animals and people, but the earth itself, the concept of the surrounding nature. At high levels, you will be able to leave a multi-kilometer bald patch of dead wasteland in place of a blooming forest with a single act of will, but you will be able to mow down everything in your path, no worse than a rocket launcher with unlimited ammunition.

Actually, there is a standard golden trio of aspects for this talent: “Son,” “Daughter,” and “Bastard,” but the second option is only available to women and those who sincerely consider themselves to be such. By the way, even Ilya would not refuse “Daughter”; of the three aspects, it is the most harmonious, even more useful than “Embraced” in many ways. But it turned out well anyway; instead of the chosen one, it could have been the same “Hole” or even “Prey.” What would he do with these aspects later?

A new stream of drops pours onto the stone patterns. These drops hit the stone, hit each other, and seem to ring in the wind, ring like bells, as ice cubes frozen in the cold, and the wind echoes them, howling and screaming, trying to drown out its own madness, its insane desire and thirst. The wind trembles, absorbs these drops, drinks them, without pausing for a moment, until it becomes one with them, until they become part of it.

Hunger Howl: 2/3 (Essence invested: 0/20)

A Wendigo seeking food can be incredibly silent, but its scream, absorbed some of the wild magic of the Hunger-possessed, is all the more terrifying. It instills fear, robbing the power and control over the gift, forcing the hands to tremble and the vision to lose focus. It can paralyze or stun weaker prey.

The strength of the brutal Hunger that follows the Howl increases slightly, the range of the effect increases noticeably, the depth of damage and after-effects are slightly increased, and the howl weakens to a lesser extent with distance from the Wendigo.

Repetition: nothing frightens like imminence, nothing saps strength like inevitability. And there's no denying that a Wendigo stalking its prey is inescapable. Few things convey inevitability more fully than its Hungry Howl as it catches up with its fleeing victim. Each Wendigo Howl weakens the target, inflicting an ever-increasing mental and physical effect that grows more powerful with each beat, gradually eroding and reducing the target's defenses to nothing. But the price of each Howl is great, for one cannot convey one's Hunger without experiencing it firsthand, without losing self-control.

And again, a standard aspect option, and this particular one, despite being too common, is rarely chosen by normal divers. Precisely because of the last lines of the description. You'll lose your marbles and rush the enemy with absolutely no tactics or self-preservation. And what about Ilya? He'll be able to use his Howl on cooldown. Just circle and cast, trying not to deplete your reserves, trying not to get hit during the Howl, when you're slightly distracted by its activation.

There's no real miracle here, though. The aspect is quite powerful, especially with its unique Trait, but it's not the ultimate. And the talent itself is only three steps, far from ideal. Ilya even had to admit that the Howl seemed completely unnecessary in his build, that he should have taken, say, Cold Heart. But who knew? For example, he had no idea where exactly in the Broken World it would spawn, and in some situations, even with his build, he couldn't survive without a simple, cheap area-of-effect ability against a crowd of ungifted players. What if he woke up right when the locals decided to burn his Twin at the stake?

No way. He regrets wasting his talent, but he doesn't regret deciding to take it. Broken quickly teaches divers not to be greedy. All these moments were explained and demonstrated to them, forcing them to learn and remember. Otherwise, they would fail exams. Ilya was a diligent student, and he did not yet strongly believe in his fantastic luck, so he did not leave even a chance for coincidence, even at the cost of not using his talent optimally. Now, that talent has become not quite suboptimal, but slightly more useful, especially in the upcoming tournament. If it's a battle of attrition, then it's quite possible to play from the howl, yes.

He rejected the other two options, “Ringing” and “Abomination.” First, because it didn't suit him, and second, because of possible problems with camouflage. “Ringing” enhanced the physical aspect of the Howl, allowing it to stun and spread over a much greater distance, but the magical aspect of the talent would not have become stronger. It was a good megaphone and a useful trick in enclosed spaces, because with “Ringing” one’s own Howl becomes inaudible. But, alas, nothing more. But it wasn't so easy to discard “Abomination.” I really wanted to choose it — a very, very, very significant enhancement of the debuff from the Howl, conveying the very unnaturalness of the Wendigo in a single cry.

Only filth flows, oozing with every word, and the more you talk, the stronger it gets. If you don't say more than a couple of dozen words a day, the effect is almost invisible thanks to the veil of “Lurking Evil,” but as soon as you get involved in a conversation, after a couple of minutes, the effect of the uncanny valley kicks in, and the natives start looking askance at the speaker. In principle, it was possible to choose, yes, but the options for social mimicry were too limited, even if not completely. Ilya preferred not to make hasty and drastic decisions.

He performs the next increase one after another, pouring into the same talent, albeit with a proper pause. The bloody rain glitters with gold on the patterns carved on the stone altar, and the patterns come to life, their new parts coming to life. In these drawings, the hunter and the prey fight each other, the beast and the man switch roles, and it is no longer clear who is hunting whom. With each passing second, these primitive figures become deeper and deeper, acquiring volume and reality completely foreign to rock paintings.

They become so real that the entire real world next to them seems fictitious.

Hunting Beast: 2/5 (Essence invested: 0/20)

Wendigos do not learn to fight; they do not duel, fence, or attack in close formation, but they can, oh, they can kill so well. Their fighting style is extremely savage, more befitting of a beast, but it is fueled by a sophisticated and vicious mind. Nothing superfluous, beautiful, or elegant, only the utmost efficiency, cruelty, and ruthlessness.

Knowledge of the combat style has been significantly expanded, revealing deeper and more multifaceted ways of using it. The Wendigo's reflexes are so heightened that they allow him to predict, to a limited extent, some of the actions, movements, and decisions of his victim, albeit for a tiny fraction of a second, but in direct combat.

Desecration: a beast that has gone out hunting, wishing to satisfy itself with the fresh meat of its prey, does not care about anything great or sacred, does not care about anything sublime or noble. The beast comes. The beast kills. The beast takes. And nothing that stands in its way will cause the beast to stop, to fear, or to change its mind. Having discovered the depth of its own evil, the Wendigo becomes frighteningly effective against the fervent prayers of a dead god's servant, the enchanted steel of a noble knight's armor, the refined will of a ruler, or the sophisticated magic of a sorcerer. In the name of Hungor, all shall be trampled.

Initially, Ilya did not want to take this aspect, although he considered it one of the possible outcomes. Alas, the much more common “Clash” proved unavailable, failing to appear despite odds of almost four in five. However, it must be admitted that the replacement turned out to be more than worthy, and he did not even particularly doubt his choice. Another predominantly passive aspect, but how useful it is! For “Desecration” in their combat style talent, almost any gifted local would easily kill their own mother, brother, sister, and hamster. Not to say that this is an ultimate argument, given the moral character of the local population, but it is an undeniable fact.

Earthlings also value this aspect, especially Executioners, who receive it even more often than Wendigos and then have every right to build their entire build around their combat style and this aspect. Desecration allows you to tear any defenses to shreds with much greater efficiency, even if you would otherwise not have enough strength to do so. It multiplies damage and effectiveness against everything alien and incomprehensible to the Wendigo. This aspect would have little effect on the Hunter, who has become so savage that he is hardly different from the Wendigo. But some Warlock, Charmancerr, Executioner, and the like will be in for a very unpleasant surprise.

No, even with this aspect, he wouldn't even risk trying to tear that net, which almost killed him, with his bare hands. The chances are slim. But as for the rest... the relics will malfunctioning against him, the magic will destabilize, the ritual will lose its stability, the tower shield made of enchanted steel would bend under his hands like tin, even if he didn't hit it particularly hard, simply because Wendigo, in his thirst for the hunt, desecrete on the very essence of another's power, despises it, does not recognize its authority, and thus places it below himself. To a certain extent, yes. Ryuek will note the aspect's action, but he will not interfere with it. But against someone of an equal step...

In general, it becomes clear why many people build their builds with an emphasis on combat skills and this aspect. Three compensating talents, combat style of the five-four steps, a couple of support talents in the two-three steps, another compensator just in case, build calculation, then investing points in style, and hoping that the aspect you need will drop. Some auxiliary talents greatly increase the chance of getting “Desecration.” And if you're really lucky and get the even rarer ‘Contempt’ in the fourth step, which has never been obtained without first taking “Desecration” in the combat style, then everyone will be sad.

For the lucky one himself, too. This aspect eats away at the brain very badly, which is why compensators specifically designed for this tactic are needed. The same “Balanced Authorized Representative” with the “Law” aspect for Executioners, for example. Ilya got by with another reliance on his Trait, which he was extremely happy about. He was not happy that he did not get the aspect he originally wanted, but a build that does not take into account the unfortunate outcome of at least a third of the desired aspects is a bad build. And one that has no branching options depending on what has already been rolled is not a build at all, but a profanation of a junior high school student who thinks highly of himself and plays “cool diver.”

The other aspects were mostly standard, in the sense that they were nothing out of the ordinary. “Thrower” allowed him not only to throw stones and other natural projectiles with much greater accuracy, but also to imbue them with the power of his own essence, equating a thrown stone with a blow from his own frozen and cursed fist. The slightly more interesting “Grip” made it difficult or even completely impossible to use maneuvering talents close to oneself. So that the wizard couldn't escape by teleportation, so that the lurker couldn't blink, so that the warrior's lunge would be crooked. Not bad, but more for a pure suppressor with teammates who will overwhelm a restrained target with volleys from behind. No, Ilya would have taken the aspect if nothing better had come along, but something better did come along, so he didn't take it.

No less interesting is the “Block,” which allows you to create a protective projection around your hands and forearms from your own hungry will. Wendigos don't use weapons, but with this aspect, you can take blows from blades and even active weapon talents directly on your hands, as if they were a good shield. With reservations, yes, because a talent that is too strong or simply well-chosen will break through this block. And a good relic has every chance of not noticing it. Not to mention that Ilya already has enough strength to catch other people's blows on his bare body, no worse than on good armor.

The somewhat inappropriate combat style “Dead Man” did not seem entirely useless, as it allowed not only to destroy the already dead or dying much more effectively, but also to pretend to be dead. Not just cosplaying as a possum, but pretending to be dead for scanning spells, search rituals, and active sensory talents, such as his Eye. Alas, only for a short time, completely motionless and literally looking like a stiff corpse. It seemed that he had decided to sneak into some kind of guarded territory, for which he pretended to be a traveler frozen to death, so that his corpse would be dragged inside for inspection.

And he gets up right off the autopsy table, kills the pathologist, and starts spreading death, terror, and pure nightmare! What kind of nonsense comes into your head, huh? As if the guards of a heavily guarded secret base who find an incomprehensible corpse wouldn't cut off the head of a suspicious body to check it. Come on. It's Broken. Even peasants know such precautions and regularly use them so that the troublemaker doesn't bite someone by accident. All such schizophrenic plans require either a very fortunate combination of circumstances, incredible preparation, someone else's stupidity on an epic scale, or they simply don't work, ending badly for the brilliant planner.

Meanwhile, new drops pour into the same patterns, which, no longer hiding, move across the stone altar, changing before our eyes, constantly undergoing turbulent change. Like a constantly repeating clip, but slightly different with each repetition, like a creepy cartoon in which the hunter and the prey figure out who is who over and over again.

Hunting Beast: 3/5 (Essence invested: 0/30)

Wendigos do not learn to fight; they do not duel, fence, or attack in close formation, but they can, oh, they can kill so well. Their fighting style is extremely savage, more befitting of a beast, but it is fueled by a sophisticated and vicious mind. Nothing superfluous, beautiful, or elegant, only the utmost efficiency, cruelty, and ruthlessness.

Knowledge of the combat style has been significantly expanded, revealing deeper and more multifaceted ways of using it. The Wendigo's reflexes are so heightened that they allow him to predict, to a limited extent, some of the actions, movements, and decisions of his victim, albeit for a tiny fraction of a second, but in direct combat.

Desecration: a beast that has gone out hunting, wishing to satisfy itself with the fresh meat of its prey, does not care about anything great or sacred, does not care about anything sublime or noble. The beast comes. The beast kills. The beast takes. And nothing that stands in its way will cause the beast to stop, to fear, or to change its mind. Having discovered the depth of its own evil, the Wendigo becomes frighteningly effective against the fervent prayers of a dead god's servant, the enchanted steel of a noble knight's armor, the refined will of a ruler, or the sophisticated magic of a sorcerer. In the name of Hungor, all shall be trampled.

The reflexes of the fighting style become absolute, allowing one to react to enemy tactics without pause or hesitation. The depth of understanding of the style is significantly increased; each blow becomes partially magical, causing damage to immaterial or pseudo-structured entities, and each touch on the victim has a certain chance of causing physical or energetic injury.

Steps: Wendigo pursues his prey slowly and relentlessly, closing the distance with the inexorability of fate itself. In his mind, consumed by hungry madness, there is no room for doubt, regret, or even thought. Perhaps it seems to him that it is not he who walks the earth? Perhaps he tramples this earth? Perhaps it is his steps that cause the world to shift in the right direction for the beast moving steadily toward its goal? Whether or not this is the case, if he wishes, the Wendigo is capable of taking a step longer than he should have. To get closer than was possible. Closer to its goal. Closer to its prey. Closer to the limit of its own Hunger.

If not perfect, then somewhere close to it, so close that it's almost perfect. In a normal situation, this or a number of similar aspects of talent are very reluctant to appear. It is much easier to get an aspect with the same name and similar effect in the Form. He would have gotten it, but Ilya had other plans for the next step of the Form, so he had to juggle the order of talent upgrades, first investing in “Child of Nature” to strengthen his unity with the world, and before that, upgrading his Hide to get closer to Hunger, specifically to the necessary attribute of that Hunger.

And so.

Result.

An aspect ability tied to mental stability, which hardly uses up reserves and doesn't really drain energy, capable of replacing another full-fledged active talent! All for just one aspect and an increased risk of going insane and starting to devour those around you. Earthlings often use this combination, but not with wild classes, and certainly not with Possessed of any kind. For them, a priori, every step will open the mind of the possessor, be it a corpse, an animal spirit, a demon, or some other form of evil. But even for Marauders, who are considered the best users of the “style plus aspect step” combo, it rarely works more than five times in one or two battle rounds.

But Ilya can use this analog of a lunge ten or even twenty times. As long as he has enough reserves and his body can withstand it. So, did he improve his body, its strength, and passive resistance to everything in vain? This aspect in itself is by no means an absolute imbalance. Yes, you can take a step and instead of a short step, make a pseudo-jump of three or even five meters. Five meters is the limit for him, too, as subtle bodies cannot withstand more. And he will still check it calmly, gradually raising the distance bar until he finds a comfortable range for himself.

In general, it's useful, but not beyond that... if you don't use such bursts too often. But if you can step several times per second, then it's more fun! Ilya immediately remembered Gladiator, who had almost gutted him. Even then, he suspected that she was using the “Steps” aspect rather than a separate talent, because her combat skills were so high, as if she had slept with a sword in her arms since childhood. And she was very good at weaving this annoying blink into her combat rhythm. Part of him understood that he was just jealous and looking for an explanation as to why the hell this chick was so good, so much better than him, that she almost gutted poor Wendigo, who was inferior to him in every way except for equipment.

Perhaps he is right in his explanation.

I don't want to check anyway, because next time there might be even more guards with gold, even diamond, girls, and their steps might be higher. No, there's no need to anger those who stand behind her and have equipped their darling so well. Well, to anger them even more than he already has — completely by accident, by the way — by making them all angry. Just a little bit, by killing some important heiress of someone or other, the beloved daughter of his father's friend.

He invests the remaining drops not into two separate talents, but into just one, already upgraded to the second step. The choice is so overwhelming that his eyes are simply dazzled, but he has already chosen. Once again, as before, the drops are absorbed into the stone itself, the stone of the altar, its core, and not its individual elements. And the stone becomes even blacker, its edges and the chips on the rim of the stone bowl turning into even sharper blades. The stone seems to grow, expanding upward and outward, each of its parts becoming stronger.

Shapeshift: 3/5 (Essence invested: 0/30)

Supreme power over his curse allows Wendigo to touch the Evil hidden in it, to pull Hungor and Cald to their place, becoming one with them. Changes the fleshly body, significantly increasing physical, magical, and spiritual characteristics for the duration of use, at the cost of unusually strong pressure of the curse. The duration of stay in the converted form of Wendigo is limited by the reserves of strength and its development, but can be renewed or increased by fresh victims, their flesh, their pain, their everything. To activate, the presence of the Wendigo Form among the talents is required.

The strain on the body and aura during transformation is significantly reduced, physical characteristics in the human body are noticeably increased, control of the Wendigo Form is somewhat simplified, and the reserve costs for maintaining the transformed form are significantly reduced.

An instant: craving its prey, dreaming of it, striving to devour its flesh as quickly as possible, down to the very last morsel, the Wendigo calls upon its ability to transform into something else with particular ferocity. This call, this desire, is so strong that it begins to ignore the boundaries set by familiar laws. Whether it be the boundaries of its own flesh or even time itself, it matters not to the one who knows Hunger. But as quickly as a human-like creature can become a hungry beast, just as quickly can the beast pretend to be human again. The transition between the two forms is accelerated by a very significant amount, even by orders of magnitude, but the faster the Wendigo strives to forget that he was once human, the more difficult it is for him to return.

The human body's energy becomes significantly stronger, taking on some of the form's power; control of the Wendigo Form becomes smoother and more natural, the cost of changing forms is significantly reduced, and the rollback from transforming between forms is greatly simplified.

Transformation: Wendigo's transformation from a human being into, in fact, himself, has always been a kind of desecrated mystery, a triumph of Hunger and Cold over man and his soul. But what exactly is hidden in that brief moment when the transformation is not yet complete, but has not yet begun? At this moment, frozen between his two reflections, the Wendigo is like a materialized paradox. He is no longer human, but not yet his new form; he is not there, he does not exist, for he is two in one, even if only for a fraction of a second. No matter, no energy, not even will, only a goal, a desire to devour and torment the whole world until it ends.

This aspect was more important to him than all the others precisely because it covered a whole range of aspects in three different talents, opening up the possibility of choosing the option he needed most in the last, fifth division. And not in Shapeshift, but in Form, because without “Transformation,” he would have no chance of getting what he wanted. Even with it, the chances are not that great; he will have to choose a couple more specific aspects. However, he is still satisfied, because the current aspect is also useful. So useful that it can be taken on its own, without plans for the future.

The essence of the acquired “Transformation” is also in defense, making it something like a Hide, but the defense is slightly different, allowing you to bypass damage rather than block it. This aspect is not available for selection unless you first take “Instant,” which allows you to turn around in a split second if you wish (and immediately fall into a severe psychosis). Normal divers, even after acquiring this aspect, use it only a couple of times in ten cycles.

The essence of this aspect is simple: at the moment of transition between forms, there is a brief window when Wendigo becomes neither a monstrous, enormous cannibal nor a beast trapped in a human body, but pure Evil. It is the very spirit, the distilled concept of Hunor and Cald, that once found a man freezing and dying of hunger and made him its vessel. And this concept, even if it is a small and personified part of him, is so ephemeral and at the same time so all-encompassing that it cannot be defeated by virtually any means available in the early stages. The same Ryuek, if he knows the mechanics of this ability, if he is ready and waits, will surely cope, but another third step, more or less standard for the local natives, will most likely just strike out.

A momentary nonexistence, brief intangibility, a partial transcendence that allows one to simply not exist, which would render even the most powerful blow useless. Of course, even with his powers, he'd be wary of "flickering" like that too often. Hell, anyone would be wary. Such tricks are usually started from step two, even though, purely by nominal numbers, one could start at step one. No one does this because, without cheating mental defenses, even one such flicker is a complete desynchronization with a fifty-fifty chance. Two or even three? Their brains would be fried, guaranteed and irreversible; even the best soul healers wouldn't help, no theurgist would pray for it, because there would be nothing to return. Only the concept would remain.

In his case, it is only Evil, dressed in the form of a Wendigo.

In his case, it's his energy, not his brain, that might give way. Even by the roughest estimates, he'll be completely destroyed after five or six flickers. His reserves are sufficient for a full twenty flickers; at the third level, the shapeshift has become extremely economical, only slightly more expensive than remaining in Form itself. But the strain on his subtle bodies, the transition from one Form to another, will be difficult even for his body, overclocked by a multitude of passive aspects and talents. Although don't forget about his brain either. Such Aspects and Talents are known for their progressively increasing pressure, even to the point of multiplication. Even he should give his talent time to cool down, keeping in mind that he's only using an aspect, albeit one of an extremely powerful talent, with five steps.

His first completed Aspect chain is a real source of pride. It's practically a ticket to a new league, not the highest, but mid-tier. It's considered the norm for any Earth Diver to create two or three synergistically enhancing Aspect chains at the very first level. Two or three is a minimum, while good builds, with the right tools, can yield seven, nine, or even a current record-breaking fourteen. However, Violetta Bloom's build was initially quite questionable. And if the community hadn't backed her, investing everything they had into the golden girl, she wouldn't have been able to accumulate the essence and the necessary achievements to unlock the top Aspect chains. And even if she had... well, let's just say her synergy chains aren't the most powerful, not the longest, and don't really mesh well together.

The diver didn't even consider the other aspects, and there was nothing really valuable or unique there. The standard “Partiality” allows you to quite flexibly transform only parts of yourself into an appearance — lengthen your arm, open your jaws with an epic mouth, grow horns, and so on. Some divers build their fighting style on such transformations, but you either need to train several specific skills for a very long time without leaving the virtual world, or be prone to schizophrenia from the outset to be able to perceive yourself and your movements as if from a third person.

Such masters are often called "comatose patients." This method of training is used by those who are crippled or suffer from a number of incurable illnesses, even with the essence of the essence, who are already constantly locked in the VR, unable to even leave their capsules to take a crap. This way, they don't have to worry about breaking all their reflexes, burning their hands by grabbing a hot kettle after "activating" the metamorphosis of their limbs, or stepping off a roof while "spreading" their wings. Seriously, all in-depth training of this kind, aimed at disrupting reflexes and blurring the boundaries of one's own perception of one's own body, requires a medical certificate, permission from a psychiatrist, and a mandatory waiver of claims. Or downloading pirated versions, and then suffering at your own risk.

Even more useless for him was the “Gift,” which allowed him to transfer his alienness and the backlash from transformation to his chosen victim. He caught the native, tied him up, secured him, cut his sinews, left him in a secluded place, transformed, and then, instead of you, he goes insane. Well, two-thirds of the backlash will still be with you, especially if you move away, about twenty kilometers. For standard divers and simply gifted Possessed, this is quite a path, very popular, although it causes “extreme concern and violent condemnation” from the Assembly, but Ilya didn't fall for it at all.

The rarely occurring “Separation” appeared in variants due to the complete absence of balancing talents, offering to further strengthen the psychoses typical of the class. Literally splitting his personality in two, giving all the madness to his second self, thereby escaping desynchronization. Making it partial — only while the second part is raging. Yeah, but if you give it too much freedom, it won't give control back to your original self, and everything will boil down to the same old stay in the auditorium. The only difference is that the hall is a little more comfortable, as if there is an extra layer of protection between you and the Twin. This is the choice of cinematic who care about their mental health and don't want to fall into sudden depression.
T.N.

The only aspect that was even remotely suitable for his development plan was "Unidentifiability", a mental masking aspect that allowed him to hide himself in an aura of harmlessness, insignificance, and “he's a good guy” while in human form. The longer you stay in the form of a Wendigo and the more blood you spill in it, the more meat you eat, the longer and more powerful the masking effect lasts. Very interesting tactics emerge with this approach, especially considering the possibility of staying in this form for a very long time, but still, no, that's not it.

The last five drops remained in the bowl, but the earthling did not pour them out, preferring to stand up and warm up, get used to his body's new capabilities, test his updated talents, and simply shake off his nervousness. The platform suspended in endless darkness was too small to train seriously on, but at least he managed to get used to his new abilities. Half an hour for warm-up, the same amount of time for meditation and testing his talents, and then he simply wished for what he wanted and got it.

The First of the Fights!

In an instant, he is standing on a new platform, in a new piece of endless darkness, dressed in exactly the same clothes he wore before the end of the cycle. He involuntarily felt the desire to dress in something more decent, and—and—and—and... that desire was immediately fulfilled, and Ilya found himself dressed in his usual Svyatyk outfit, even with his dagger and cutlass. This, by the way, was not mentioned on the Forum. Another moment, and his usual cloth mask-bandage covering his face appeared. He even had time to think about replacing his weapon with one of the blades he had obtained in battle, or even summoning his huge bone or the same trophy net-relic. He had time, yes, but that was all.

Everything has changed again, and now his platform is suspended opposite another one, very similar but slightly different—slightly different glowing glyphs, a slightly different shape and texture of the stone. And on that platform stands someone looking very intently at Ilya. Above him flutters a large flag woven from phantom fabric, but the flag is empty, with only grayness and nothing else on it. The second flag, smaller, depicts some kind of coat of arms, like a frog entwined with ivy and a bunch of small heraldic details. The coat of arms is unfamiliar to him, clearly from some semi-wild world where there is no unified state, and society has not progressed beyond separate enclaves. Or, possibly, it fell into barbarism after the arrival of the Cage of the Ancients.

This is the main argument of the opponents of the Ancients, expressed directly. They say, why did we all believe that the Mechanism was created to protect civilizations, if most of the worlds that did not have the Earthly Seven either descended into savagery, dictatorship of the gifted, and complete brutality, or never emerged from the Dark Ages, often sliding back into them, or killed each other off while trying to prove who was right? The answer to this question is also well known and has long been discussed by both supporters and opponents of theories of varying degrees of conspiracy: the Ancients simply don't give a shit. Does the planet and its population still exist? This means that the cage worked, and the fact that some of those locked in it did not survive the intervention of the ancients did not bother them at all, does not bother them, and cannot bother them a priori.

"I'll eat you," says a short, broad-shouldered, lean man, tanned to the point of blackness, bearded, and covered in ritual scars, or rather, "Ritual Scarification," baring his surprisingly even and white teeth in a menacing smile. "I'll eat your liver."

He let a string of saliva drip from the corner of his mouth very naturally, so naturally that you couldn't help but believe he was a deranged individual, rather than an actor playing a role to intimidate you. He literally reeked of Hunger, like shit and chemicals from a broken sewer. He was dressed only in a heavy cloak made of tanned skins, over which a bunch of small amulets were sewn, three rather large wooden idol figures hung on a wide belt, and the scars were so deep and real that they scratched the eyes.

A Shaman-totemist playing for the Hungry Spirits, most likely. Almost certainly so. An unpleasant opponent, but nothing more, especially for Wendigo, who is no stranger to hunger himself. He wonders how many faces there are on his totems. One or three? Three would be good, because then, if they have roughly the same number of drops spent, and he himself is not yet a bread, most of the drops are invested in the totems. He would rather fight a temporarily possessed enemy or repel active hunger magic of the strike type than face the totems. Ilya's current build can only be taken down by the totems if Ilya himself screws up badly somewhere.

He did not deign to respond to his interlocutor, nor did he show any other reaction other than clearly being enraged to the point of grinding his teeth and letting new strands of saliva drip onto his beard. The hatred in his gaze was almost tangible; you could almost touch it, but none of them rushed into battle, intuitively understanding that leaving the platform now was not a good idea, in fact, it was highly inadvisable. The Shaman's eyes are fixed on Ilya's back and above, where a phantom banner with man da Vinci flutters in the non-existent wind, as well as a smaller one with the separate coat of arms of the United Europe.

Well-well. Let him memorize it.

Many people have already memorized Earthlings this way.

Another change of scenery, and now Ilya is no longer standing on the platform, but in the middle of some abandoned ruins. There are low one- and two-story houses, of which only the walls remain, numerous signs of desolation, patches of dry grass growing here and there, and scattered white bones of small animals. Perhaps the area is cursed, but not too badly, just slightly. If their battle takes too long, the area will start to weigh on them more heavily — this is not accurate information, just a suspicion.

Not finding Shaman nearby, the earthling crouches down, touching the dusty stones of the ancient pavement, feeling a slight tingling sensation that confirms the version with a weak area effect. At the same time, he activates his talent, his Hungry Eye discerning his target. The enemy's heart and blood are now somewhere a mile ahead and to the left of Ilya. His heart beats frantically, pumping dark and unnaturally thick blood. And his eye, the essence of which is a manifestation of Hunger, sees three ghostly silhouettes spiraling away from the Shaman. And each one is tied by an invisible thread, like a blood vessel, to one of the three carved totems.

Not a full-fledged Carver, as a class, of course, but clearly took one or even two talents of a similar nature. And only three spirits, not nine, which means the enemy has a couple of trump cards. So much for the advantages of rapid leveling, proud earthling. It took the alien more than a year to collect the same number of drops, and during that time, he probably managed to carve totems from obviously not-so-simple wood and sew a whole bunch of amulets onto his coat. And all he has in his inventory is an untouched bone, which he didn't even think to bring here. Maybe he couldn't, by the way, because he didn't even check; he was lost in thought, you see.

Self-reflection did not prevent Ilya from assessing the situation and remaining in motion, diligently tracking both the Shaman's heart and his hungry servants. Amulets are powerful, especially when there are many of them, and when there is enough skill and aspects to choose some kind of “Synchronization” in the aspects. With this synchronization, individual small amulets cease to interfere with each other so much and even begin to help, merging into a single combined protective field. Even knocking out individual elements of protection will not destroy the overall contour. Unless, of course, the entire contour bursts, completely and immediately, with all the amulets and totem protections at once.

It wasn't that difficult to get past the three hungry spirits. He waited for the spiral to widen so he could pass precisely between the two creatures, then accelerated and moved into striking position. Most likely, these totems had something for reading traces, and not physical ones, but aural ones. Because on the next turn of the expanding spiral, the spirits noticed the place where Ilya had passed and became slightly alarmed. About a second and a half before the earthling, his mouth wide open, didn't even bother to turn around, covered the narrow alley occupied by the shaman, which was convenient for defense, with a powerful Ice Breath, using almost half of his reserve.

It puffed up good. The hastily drawn “Protective Circle” lasted almost a full heartbeat, with the amulets sewn onto the fur coat taken off his shoulders providing the same amount of protection. Alas, the Shaman, bent over the totems, feeding them his blood and whispering something to them, was only two or three steps away from his clothes. And he died even before the last amulets in his protective complex burst. If he had any special tricks up his sleeve, he didn't have time to show them, just as the spirits, deprived of their homes and sources of power, didn't have time either. They were simply pulled out of reality, and two of them were already disintegrating into nothingness by that point, consuming themselves.

The fight is over!

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Only the first drop fell normally, as usual, while the subsequent ones felt slightly different. Because they only went to the Twin, they will not pass into the real world. But now the earthling had twelve drops, enough to increase another talent. There were almost none left on the first step, by the way. And he didn't mind making sure there were none left at all.

An additional reward for the winner: seven drops of Essence fall into your Vessel of Ascension!

Ahem...

Okay, it was unexpected and even pleasant, albeit premature and completely useless right now. Yes, in the future, when he wants to move on to the second step, he will need seven drops less, but when will that be? Until he has maxed out all the talents of the current step, he will not rise above his step prematurely for anything. Only if there was no choice at all, literally with a gun to his head, would he do otherwise, only to bury his own potential as a lottery winner. It seemed that even the two-meter-tall werewolf cannibal in the underground bunker of his self-control, bound crosswise by numerous chains of will and reinforced by the Trait, agreed with this opinion unconditionally.

The new drops did not fall into the bowl; no, they spilled past it, directly onto the snow covering the frozen lake, piercing the snow and the ice hidden beneath it with red-hot bullets and disappearing without a trace. But something had changed; a glance at the lake revealed something else, something strange, different from what had been there before. Somewhere down there, having melted their way through, these drops covered numerous bones, a whole field of bones, which had been devoured by the creature whose skull now lay at the bottom of the bowl. Whose skeleton had become the foundation of the stone altar.

Step: 1 (7/300)

A start had been made, and it would be unwise to refuse the reward, even if he knew how to refuse this gift in the first place.

The Second of the Fights!

Once again, he stands opposite his opponent, only now the latter is clean-shaven and extremely composed, not drooling and looking at Ilya without contempt, even with respect. And meeting the earthling's gaze, this rather tall, black-haired man in a cuirass, chain mail, shoulder pads, and other elements of armor, bowed his head solemnly. Not obsequiously, but with respect, as an equal. Behind him fluttered an iron glove clenched into a fist, but it was by no means the coat of arms of Klampetorm from the Broken. The Iron World, as its inhabitants call it, is one of the few allies from other worlds, albeit rather conditional and not without occasional clashes.

In fact, the world there is ruled not so much by kings and aristocrats, as in the Pact, but by a conglomerate of knightly orders. Once upon a time, a representative of one of the largest knightly orders (historians and experts on the Worlds of Cage immediately beat up anyone who compares or names this order as Teutonic) emerged victorious from their race of the Seven. He was a surprisingly competent individual who managed to completely rebuild most of the world, leaving behind a number of relics and a fairly comprehensive code of laws, which the Iron Ones continue to follow to this day. The code was written by Otto the First of the Equals himself, but it was sworn in by the only surviving owner of the seven step, who simply did not fight in the general slaughter and recognized the authority of the victor.

He lived out his allotted time in his native world as a near-complete recluse, which is why little is known about him even now, except that he was a monk and a true hermit (and Hermit) of the local religion, which combined a mixture of paganism and a very strange form of Buddhism. He is honored noticeably less than Otto, who plays the role of the earthly Christ and, at the top, Odin-Ares-Artemis, but he is still revered very strongly. The royal and secular authorities, especially. The aristocracy has not completely died out, retaining some of its privileges, albeit not at the level of the brother knights.

Iron maintains a steadfast, benevolent neutrality toward Earth, because some respect the scholars and brave warriors of earthly origin (as well as the earthly Seven, to the point of fanaticism), while others are often enamored with chivalric romance and atmosphere. The thing is, all their noble sentiments apply only to other knights and those who are considered their equals, while they do not consider serfs, merchants, and other rabble to be human beings at all. But the earthlings, on average, proved to be so tough and dangerous that it was easier to recognize them as brother knights, only from under a different sky, than to seriously try to put them in a stable.

They currently have no fives of their own in the world, but there are fifteen fourth steps that form the High Table, so they don't consider it shameful to learn from earthlings. And earthlings, as with the Pact, are gradually feeding them their own philosophy and methods for improving the quality of life of the population of their home world. Their successes are noticeably lesser; after all, the Iron Ones have no particular reason to worry about the commoners — the Code doesn't proclaim it — but they have already raised their medical and general infrastructure to a new level.

It's definitely not the Middle Ages. More like the Middle Ages from movies and TV series, from chivalric romances, where all the peasants are well-fed and clothed, where there are no epidemics, famines, or infant mortality, and where the cities don't stink too much. Cities, by the way, will soon be overcrowded. Due to reduced child mortality, the population is actually growing, to the point of birth control in certain Order lands. No more than three living children per family, or an additional tax, yeah right. With a corresponding number of girls starved after birth, because a boy is much more profitable for the household. Jokes about how noble knights will soon be pegging each other because there are too few women left are not punishable on Earth, by the way. But it's recommended not to retell these jokes with Iron Ones.

To avoid diplomatic scandals between allied worlds, so to speak.

"Günther Blauzeit, elder brother of the minor chapter of the Order of the Thorned Horseshoe." Meanwhile, an armored boar is introduced, which is either an Executioner, an Oathbringer, an Apostate, or a Soul Slayer of heavy brunch, most likely, since the Iron Ones have a huge shortage of people willing to take purely magical classes, a consequence of their knightly ideology. "Who will be my opponent?"

Ilya knows next to nothing about this order, but there are more of them there than there were countries on Earth before the arrival of the Seven. They're average in size, numbers, and strength, and they certainly don't have their own four-step gifted. He'd studied these orders far more closely. Since silence would have been an insult, and naming their names would have been, at the very least, unwise, Ilya took a slightly different approach.

"Just the voice and case of the Assembly." Ilya bowed as deeply as he had been honored, responding with a phrase perfectly appropriate for the situation. "One of many."

The tradition of the anonymous knight, pursuing his own path toward understanding the Code, is quite respectable. Many young knights are tested this way, sent to various tournaments or minor inter-order wars, maintaining formal anonymity. And, if anything, they are not one of us; they are strangers, and in fact, they were long ago expelled from the Order for various offenses; there's no way to prove anything. The fact that war there is always conducted according to strict and strictly enforced rules, with virtually no impact on civilians or the commoners, doesn't mean they don't fight or that they don't have their own ways of circumventing knightly rules. The Code also prescribes secret work for the benefit of brothers.

So he could have mistaken Ilya, who concealed his identity, for either a young idiot sent to win name and fame, or a "secret brother," essentially an agent, scout, or liquidator for the Order. And since they were roughly equal in the number of drops, and therefore in age and experience as a diver (as Günther himself believes), there remained only one option. Outwardly, he showed neither disdain nor apprehension, but he was clearly far more wary than he let on.

"Well then, let our blades and sorceries judge who is worthy of celebrating victory, voice of the Assembly." Slamming his fist against his cuirass over his heart, he stepped back a little and fell silent.

Ilya nodded, repeating the same gesture, but did not respond. Iron men do not value excessive words, except for a few orders, but even those are mostly perceived as mannered sodomites.

Especially behind their backs.

Another scene change, but now the landscape is slightly different, very uncomfortable for Ilya because it is deserted. Literally a desert, with large dunes, a sea of sand, and a scorching sun. His body, saturated with Cold, will not die from the heat; rather, it will cool the desert around him, but some part of his icy magic will weaken. By half a percent, no more, but that's if the enemy isn't the same Oathbound of the Sun Branch, in which case the battlefield will play against him.

Standing on the opposite dune, about three hundred meters from Ilya, the enemy raised his hands to the heavens, and the heat of the sun grew far more intense, completely uncomfortable even for his physiology. Damn it! He'd managed to run into one of the few Iron Ones who isn't above picking up a couple of purely magical talents, not just weapon, shield, and mobility tricks. Closing his eyes, he switches to the Hungry Eye and strides forward, gradually sliding down the sandy slope as if on an invisible skateboard.

The knight, activating "Glorifying the Radiance" and cloaked in the "Heat of Righteousness," moves toward him in roughly the same manner. He carries a heavy two-handed blade directly over his shoulder, like a woodcutter with his axe, but this is a deceptive relaxation. Ilya immediately recalls a number of talents that allow him to strike simultaneously with his charge and finish off the enemy with a single attack. Therefore, when they were seven meters apart, and the heat was already almost painful, burning his skin and retinas, Ilya was not at all surprised by the use of "Promised Path," noticing its activation through the knight's power-infused heart.

A talent of the vow type; to be fully effective, the vow must be kept. Most often, the condition is to never rush or run unless absolutely necessary, always approaching slowly and calmly. The better you keep your vow, the more powerful the effect. Since Otto himself was an Oathbound, this class, which fits perfectly with the knightly philosophy, was considered the most popular among the Iron Ones. More than eighty percent of knights choose it, and they strongly dislike those who choose this class without being knights.

The Codex, an artifact book, allows those suitable for the Mechanism to be identified at an early age, so even a potter's child can become a knight or lady. Compared to Hogwarts and its method of finding new students... is an old joke retold by great-grandfathers, who learned to fence in the first training halls for divers. Returning to the Iron Ones — in their world, diving without the title of knight or lady is illegal and punishable, though not always by death.

To be honest, Ilya would prefer to fight one of their ladies, graduates of monastic orders, who are most often casters and particularly fond of mental attacks and charms. Under the Code, women have the right to charm, and if someone is so blind that they cannot control themselves, it is their own fault. And no, it is still the knights who rule, not the mentalists; there is only one among their four step owners, and she is happily married. But in general, each knightly order has its own noble cloister, a place for training and educating young and not-so-young ladies.

The enemy's attack is swift and terrifying, but Ilya's current abilities are such that he manages to dodge it even under the lighter. He takes a step to the side, which suddenly becomes several times wider, exhales cold air at the abandoned coordinates, and then instant shapeshift without actively using the "Transformation" aspect. The exchange was dry: the enemy's “Oath of Wounds,” flying off the blade, hit nothing but sand, in which it carved a seven-meter furrow as wide as an elbow, but Ilya's breath was stopped by the “Oath to the Sun.”

"There is no dignity in becoming a beast, forgetting human honor." Günter addressed him quietly, reproachfully, and with some resentment, cutting his palm under his glove with the sharp guard of his two-handed sword. "A beast is unworthy of being called a knight."

"Only if you become a beast," Ilya replied, watching his opponent closely and not falling for the bloody decoy, no matter how much the hungry beast inside him fought, tearing apart chains that instantly regenerated and even grew in thickness and number. "And not remain human."

He was surprised, yes, but he didn't lose control of the situation, cautiously circling around the earthling, looking for vulnerabilities and putting more and more effort into his lighter, trying to confuse and force him to make a mistake. What a bastardly pro, truly worthy of a minor chapter, even if not the highest order! An extremely inconvenient enemy for Wendigo, and in an extremely inconvenient arena.

“That's dignified, faceless voice.” It probably takes a knightly skill to manage to be concise and laconic, while continuing to babble. “Your will is an honor for the Assembly.”

And with that, he attacked, activating his weapon oath again, now aiming for the legs, seeking to cut and trip him. Ilya steps under the blow, allowing it to roll off his hungry skin, but underestimates the striking power of the aspect “Impulse” embedded in the attack, which knocks his legs out from under him and causes him to tumble right in the air. Just enough to get hit by the next lunge, aimed at his exposed neck. But it hits only emptiness, nothingness, the faceless and hungry Evil itself, when Ilya, well aware of the most common aspect of the “Oath of Wounds,” changes his form to human and back again.

The load turned out to be tolerable, although the werewolf in the bunker temporarily grew a couple of meters taller, and the chains rattled loudly, but that was all. However, Günter did not have any very rare aspects of the “Humility” or “Unity” subtype in reserve, and therefore, a very unpleasant rule, common to all novice Oathbound, applied to him. It is impossible to maintain two active manifestations of oaths at the same time, unless you count unique builds based on equally unique Gifts of the Mechanism. So he didn't have time to activate his solar protection, and Ilya, who had fallen out of nowhere, hit the knight in the head with a huge leg. The blow did not knock off his head, as his armor, which was clearly not simple but magical, albeit not a relic, deflected it, knocking him back, staggering him, and concussing him, but not killing him instantly.

No, well, there really is a powerful toy there, even with Desecration, it didn’t break it right away!

A long, impossible step forward, followed by a charge like a charging moose — horns to the gut, gaining momentum from that same long stride. The armor burst like paper, impaling the knight on the horns. The Wendigo straightened up under the rapidly fading light, letting out a triumphant howl, which finally crushed the dying man's will and prevented him from taking off his second Hide with a death blow. Shaking his head, throwing the already dead body off his horns, and that's it, the fight is over, take it and sign for it, honorable diver.

The fight is over!

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Nineteen drops. One is missing to level up, so just forget about the original plan and level up your talents right away after reaching the minimum threshold. But no, for his build, it would be best to level up Ice Breath or Eye, so that's what he'll do... and what else is there to level up? He will raise Hungor and Cald closer to the end or middle of the step, depending on the aspects that have fallen out, and the Carver is now worthless, not zero, but negative. The tournament mechanics will count the drops invested in him, and he simply won't be able to apply the talent; there's no way. No, Ilya will wait for the third battle; he will wait.

The main thing is to win it. Otherwise, this fight turned out to be much more difficult than the last one.

An additional reward for the winner: two times seven drops of Essence of the Essence fall into your Vessel of Ascension!

Either he was just lucky, or this was the most popular of all possible rewards, or one of the two. Again, a scorching rain of bloody gold, again the drops disappearing beneath the ice, soaking the bones lying at the bottom of the lake. For a moment, it even seemed as if a scarlet glow gleamed from beneath the snow, but nothing more. Once again, the lake is motionless, frozen solid, only the wind driving swirls of snow, blowing away even the memory of a warmth that had never been here.

Step: 1 (21/300)

And then a new image appears before my eyes.

The Third of the Fights!

This time, he sees a gray banner without a single coat of arms, but he recognizes the symbol on the small flag, revealing a resident of the world called Stone (yes, their names are all like that; Earth is not original here). Without the Forum, he can remember more than two dozen of these Stones, as well as about the same number of Earths, Mud, and other variants. A typical dictatorship of the strongest clans-sects-corporations, ruled by the descendants of the four survivors of the massacre of the first divers.

Due to constant wars and the elimination of any strong opponents in rival clans or even branches of the same clan, there aren't even gifted og fout step there now; everyone has moved to Broken after the death of their real bodies. Gifted of third step rule, ruling with cruelty, money, personal armies, and all that stuff. Their technology, by the way, is very advanced; they know about internal combustion engines and have even built a dieselpunk on their planet, without worrying too much about the fact that the environment there is crying bloody tears.

A mediocre place to live.

“If you lick my boots and eat my shit, I'll kill you quickly.” Assessing his simple outfit, which consisted of clothes restored to their original appearance, a cleaver, and a knife, the asshole, dressed in enchanted embroidered fabric and holding what was clearly a relic staff, felt like the undisputed master of the situation. “And if you please me with your mouth, I'll even reward you with a coin.”

No, not a dumb jerk, just a jerk, deliberately trying to irritate him in the most obvious ways. Ilya looked at him from under his cloth mask, mimicking something vaguely reminiscent of Bronislav Valediktovich Yanin, who had wrong answer from the student. He didn't answer, which caused the slightest hint of irritation on the Occultist's face, apparently. The staff was very distinctive, oozing a colorless gray from the top, and the embroidered symbols of Gehenna, presented by good old Pride, also hinted.

A moment later, they appeared in a different place, a huge hall resembling a ballroom, Victorian in style, bright and beautiful, as if kings and princesses had been dancing there a moment ago before being teleported away. The enemy, about a hundred meters away, looked at them with disdain and complete confidence, but didn't show off or play with his spoils. Which proved once again that he wasn't an idiot, just a jerk.

The staff was aimed directly at Ilya, releasing not just a stream but almost a laser beam of colorless gray, causing Ilya to quack mentally like a duck. He couldn't dodge the instantly striking "Colorless Finger" of five steps, developed at least to the third step, so he had to be careful. He could have taken it on his Hide, too; it probably would have held off the attack, but this beam wasn't instantaneous, but sustained, and he still had to assume a Form. When a skinny, colossal Wendigo rushed toward the Occultist, instantly tearing through his clothes, he was quite surprised, but still tried to direct the beam toward the target that appeared out of nowhere.

Tried.

Three long strides forward and sideways, zigzagging, swinging the pendulum, as if practicing dodge maneuvers in a VR simulation under the constant supervision of an instructor. The talent's power faded, the Finger retreated for a long time, and the "Colorless Wave" surged forward. Not in its initial stage, like Justine's, but it seemed, at its peak. A swarm of colorless dots struck Ilya, who had activated the Hide, and a powerful, concentrated Ice Breath came towards the enemy. It was comparable. The Hide was knocked off the Wendigo, but the Ice Breath also pushed through the colorless and forced the enemy to wrap himself in the "Sulfur Cloak." He's practically the son of a friend of the esteemed Justine's mother, come to think of it! The stench of sulfur overwhelms Ilya's sensitive sense of smell, but he doesn't miss the enemy's heart, suffused with power.

And he simply ran past him, avoiding him and skirting in a wide arc, darting toward the enemy hidden by the artifact-type canopy, who had blinked to the far wall. Fortunately, at least the trap clone wasn't pumped to the top, simply standing motionless and looking at Ilya with a disdainful gaze. His head was buzzing slightly from the effect of "Minor Contract: Grateful Humility." An effect that compelled him to attack the trap clone in pride and anger, inside which beat five hearts of kamikaze creatures filling the false body, while ignoring the real enemy, invisible due to the artifact, in his pride. The effect made one attack the clone trap in pride and anger, inside of which beat five hearts of kamikaze creatures that had filled the false body, and not pay attention to the real enemy, invisible because of the artifact, in one's pride.

It didn't work out; there was no luck.

He screamed not from pain or fear, but from pure indignation. This scream didn't stop Ilya, not even in the slightest. A breath to the face, a kick, a swing of the hand, and the enemy was first frozen, then shattered, and then smeared across the wall. If he had wanted to say something like "I remember you," he simply didn't have time. Behind the earthling, the clone, left uncontrolled, exploded with the equivalent of ten kilograms of TNT, showering the Wendigo with the toxic stench of sulfur and intoxicating Pride.

The fight is over!

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

It was fast, frankly, even faster than with the Shaman, but Ilya didn't particularly mind. To be fair, this Occultist was more dangerous to Ilya than Gunther. He had a very, very respectable striking power, which, had he fallen under it and not forced the fight on his opponent's unfavorable terms, would have been unpleasant. On the other hand, you shouldn't overestimate the jerk either. He made some mistakes, banking everything on one strike. That might work in the short term, but in a tournament setting, he should have started with simpler attacks and saved the most serious ones for the finale, when the Wendigo would have been so close he couldn't react.

Ilya doesn't particularly analyze the battle he's won, simply checking that the twenty-six drops of Essence are still there, and then looking within himself. He watches the drops from the altar bowl flow onto the rock, pouring into the eyes carved into it, into their bottomless, impossibly deep pupils, feeding the endless Hungor, feeding it and allowing it to grow even closer, allowing the pupils to grow even deeper.

Hungry Eye: 3/5 (Essence invested: 0/30)

The eyes of the Wendigo see the world in a different way than ordinary mortals are accustomed to perceiving it; they notice details more easily, and the hiding prey will not hide behind strong walls or under an invisible canopy, because the Wendigo can notice the still beating heart of the victim even at a considerable distance, in complete darkness or behind a reliable barrier.

The overall effectiveness of the talent is significantly increased, attention to detail is enhanced, the tendency to notice the mystical and mundane is strengthened, the Wendigo's eyes see in pitch darkness and are not blinded by light, the ability to overcome camouflage is noticeably enhanced.

Piercing: When at the peak of malice and thirst for flesh, Wendigo is able to enhance the properties of his eyes by an order of magnitude, opening them to the eternal Cald, beginning to notice much more, albeit at the cost of the Hungor rolling in with extreme force. His eyes are like ice crystals, needles of pure Evil, they pierce through a reliable cover, an enchanted wall, a camouflage veil, or a protective amulet. The eyes look, see, and understand what they see to the very core, distinguishing the strengths and weaknesses of what they did see.

The overall effectiveness of the talent increases significantly, the complexity of perception adapts to growing capabilities, the Wendigo's eyes become naturally able to notice magic and mysticism, and finding secret places, as well as hidden and obscured details, is significantly simplified.

Insight: The thirst to obtain, take, devour, and consume the desired prey opens up many paths for the Wendigo, one of which is a deep understanding of the actions the victim will take to avoid becoming prey. Hunger leads the target to a single outcome, no matter how hard they try to avoid the inevitable, which is why the Wendigo's eyes can find a target once seen, even under protection and camouflage that would normally be impossible for its eyes to overcome. This same Hunger, unbearable and cruel if one surrenders to it, will grant a glimpse into the future of the victim and the hunter, not allowing the victim to cease being a victim, but the hunter can also become merely an appendage to his Hunger.

That's it! It was not for nothing that he developed a combat style first, not at all! He wasn't entirely sure that honing his instincts into a kind of quasi-foresight would allow him to take this particular aspect. It's rare for such talents to coincide in one diver, and they are rarely chosen at all to have clear statistics. But in London AU, they taught not only how to use a build calculator, but also how to predict the drift of the chance of obtaining an aspect depending on factors not taken into account in a bunch of tables. And the combination of the factors “super intuition for combat, allowing one to slightly predict the enemy's actions” and “eye talent, in which a precognitive aspect could theoretically appear, albeit tainted by Hunger,” turned out to be exactly what it seemed.

Most users would take this aspect for its primary and main function, a kind of tag for hunting and pursuit. It's very good and quite difficult to remove, and also invisible, because the tag does not impose itself; it simply modifies the perception of the person who placed it. And then there's the distance, because Ilya can see for miles without worrying about the consequences, while it would fry anyone else's brain. And his Trait will allow him to activate active foresight for a couple of seconds in battle... although this still needs to be tested, and preferably not in the middle of a tournament. However, here, in the middle of the tournament, there will be a whole bunch of such idiots testing their newly pumped aspects on the fly.

The other options were not much less appealing. Especially the rather unexpected "Gleam," which could turn into a full-fledged entry into the mental branch tied to Hungor. The ability to flash your eyes so menacingly that your gaze paralyzes or even stops the heart of a weak, gifted person, and hits a strong one over the head, is worth a lot. The aspect is straightforward and simple, but very effective, replacing a full talent, if you think about it. It would be useful for upcoming duels, and in the future as well. Moreover, this aspect would not particularly interfere with current development plans, quite nicely replacing the same “Insight,” which, by the way, can open up full-fledged ‘Divination’ in the fifth division. But here the question is whether he should take that “Divination,” because there will be even more desirable options.

The “Answer” would also be useful, allowing you to see who is looking at you too intently, without protecting themselves from wild sensory perception. Ilya would take the same "Reader," which seems to have fallen to him due to his outstanding trait as a secret knower, allowing him to read unfamiliar symbols, languages, and liturgies, to see secret signs and hidden motives... okay, he wouldn't take it. This is still for the Sage, and a very risky one at that, because seeing and understanding too much, it's easy to go completely crazy. The one aspect he definitely wouldn't take is “Blindness,” trading normal vision for an eternal picture of other people's hearts and magic, and the wildest amplification of the other senses.

Meanwhile, an uncharacteristically late message arrived from the Mechanism, giving him a well-deserved additional reward.

An additional bonus for the winner: an absolute drop of uplifting essence elevates one of the least developed talents to an aspect!

To be honest, the prize isn't exactly useless, but it's very risky. In a different situation, he would now be tearing his hair out over the modified build scheme, which would then have to be recalculated. Recalculating in his own apartment, at his computer, with access to neural modules and calculation systems, rather than in the middle of a tournament, sitting on a platform in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately, he didn't have time to panic, because the drop didn't fall into the class's root talent, which would have been a near-catastrophe, or even into the Carver, which would have been simply unpleasant, but into the last of the class's undeveloped talents.

Twin's Memory: 2/2 (Essence invested: 10/10)

This body existed, breathed, loved, and remembered; it lived and longed to live, but now only memories remain of it, impersonal and systematized. The Diver bears the stamp of his Twin's past life, shame, and glory.

Your memory has restored what this body was once forced to forget, what it was helped to forget, and forbidden to remember.

Talent (Sleight of Hand 1/1): The one who came before you was often forced to write prolifically, assisting a relative in his trade. Knowing from the start how his life would unfold, he chose this talent. His handwriting was always smooth, and his hands tired slowly.

Well...

The only thing that consoled Ilya was that the accompanying micro-talent he received had such a low “weight” that it would not affect the overall build and aspect drop options in any way. In fact, he was offered only two aspects — the first, chosen by him, unlocked one of the deceased Twins' useless talents, replacing the aspect with this talent. The second was called “Attribute” and could transfer one of the Twin's attributes to Ilya, which was very, very cool, because that same plus one in Bones and Claws would give a significant boost at the current stage.

But the attribute would be random, just like talent. And every Twin who died in order to give their diver a backstory at the last moment of their life opened up a point in Fate and Fortune. In fact, this point served as a connecting chain between the Twin and the Diver. Well, it's hard not to understand that, right? There was a one in seven chance that FaFo would increase your score, after which your scream could wake up the neighboring sectors of the Broken. Countless idiots took the risk and lost on this test of greed, especially since it had worked for many before them. On average, the FaFo attribute appeared more often than normal when choosing this aspect, in about two out of five cases, so it was considered smart either not to take the risk or to be prepared for FaFo's leap.

Ilya was not ready.

And this talent is not so useless for him — a one-point for the ungifted and the same for the fully blessed by Mechanism has different effectiveness. It will definitely come in handy in bone carving, so let it be. Ilya became much more interested in the Twin's returned memory. Memories that went back to his distant and early childhood, spent in his hometown and a slightly less familiar village with his relatives. His father had left the village, fleeing to the city for a better life, but he did not forget his roots and took little Ilya to see his father's house.

He'd better not do that.

The memory was quite long and detailed, although it would not have meant much to an uninitiated person. Once, the boy ran away to play and got lost in a tiny, kilometer-long grove that was hidden from the winds of the Ridge in a small grove near the village. However, the grove turned out to be not small at all, not a grove at all, but a gateway to a natural-type lacuna. Moreover, it was an extremely stable lacuna, inhabited by a gifted witch who had become its guardian — she drew on the power that flowed from it, but at the same time restrained what was growing in the lacuna. She held it back until the time came.

The old woman, ugly and terrifying, pulled the boy out, gave him back to his father, pale as death, but took away the child's memory of those few days, of how he had unwittingly learned how to enter the lacuna. And she took the father's nameless finger as payment for the rescue and as punishment for his oversight. To be fair, Iliy had really inhaled some junk and was dying of pulmonary edema, so the old hag saved him. And she didn't eat him. In general, let him live. But information about the lacuna, one that is stable, does not expand, and does not release predatory wormholes, one that has been keeping its secrets and its axis for centuries... that's not bad. Such information can be used by oneself or sold to someone else. The higher-ups in local politics definitely don't know about it. Otherwise, they would have taken such a valuable thing from the old witch along with her life.

Stable lacunae are not exactly hugely valuable, but they are a decent, practical training ground for those who want to develop. Or a reserve for a rainy day, if you need to clean out the axis and drink it to the bottom. In general, it's not surprising that the old woman was so concerned about keeping the secret. It's more surprising that she didn't kill the boy and his father and wipe out the entire village. And this despite the fact that Ilya is almost certain that she is a Druid, the most commonly accepted crazy class of the standard ones.

A kind aboriginal Druid who saves foolish little children.

Broken never ceases to amaze, yes.

The Fourth of the Fights!

The world's coat of arms is vaguely familiar, but he can't quite remember it, and the smaller coat of arms is completely unfamiliar. His opponent has a surprisingly pleading concrete block face, a greasy look in his eyes, and stares at Ilya the same way he stares at naked Irina, only ten times more insistently. Well, he preferred to think that this slightly flabby man, dressed in something resembling expensive pajamas mixed with a bathrobe, just wanted to eat him too, or torture him, rip out his soul, and all that. Alas, his opinion did not stand up to reality when this individual spoke, his tongue slightly slurred.

"And you're handsome..." How he assessed this moment through his restored clothes and mask, Ilya doesn't know and doesn't want to know, preferring to believe that his opponent has a dagger or a battle totem hidden in his pants. "Shall we be friends?"

It seems he began to understand how those tournament participants who had to face Ugly Bastard felt... even though he only targeted women. Or those who had turned into women, yes. Without deigning to respond to his opponent, Ilya vowed to himself that he would not lose this battle. Otherwise, Irina would have to nurse him back to health with cognac, damn it.

In an instant, he was back inside, in a rather cramped space — a typical storage room in an abandoned building, three meters by three, with low ceilings, no windows, dust, cobwebs, and desolation. There were no enemies nearby, obviously. Exhaling wearily, the earthling activated his Eye and immediately found the enemy's heart... at the very edge of visibility, somewhere three kilometers above and to the left of Ilya. If he had correctly guessed the enemy's class, then this choice of arena could only be described as playing into the enemy's hands. However, the earthling was not offended, because the Dreamwalker must have at least some chance of holding out longer against him.

No, it's too early to relax asschicks in every sense of the word. Dreamwalkers has some pretty impressive tricks up their sleeve, not just pure brainwashing. He could easily have his face gnawed off by Nightmares, be dragged into dreams in his physical body, or have his life ruined in some other way. But something tells Ilya that this individual is exactly the type of Dreamwalker that makes it somewhat awkward for earthlings to confirm such a Lot in decent society. After thinking about it for five seconds, he leaves the room and enters a corridor that is just as old and dusty, and moves in the direction of his goal.

Leaving the modest estate and stepping onto the street of some abandoned city, he considers transforming into a Wendigo and running away, as if someone had rubbed sandpaper on the inside of his skull. If this was supposed to put him to sleep, it clearly didn't work — even the dead would wake up here. Frowning and picking his ear, he takes his first step, preparing to transform as he runs, when all his plans collapse in an instant. Okay, it's worth admitting that this budget version of the old Ugly managed to completely surprise Ilya.

The fight is over!

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

What?

I mean.

Wha-a-a-at!?

After checking the vessel and the thirteen drops it contained, which were too few to increase his Ice Breath or close the Howl, and finding himself back on the platform in the middle of the void, the earthling could only scratch the back of his head. So, was it “Absolute Slumber” pumped up to a full five divisions? In terms of aspects, then, “Will,” “Part,” “Pressure,” “Dream,” and, at the very end, “Absolute”? It hit him so hard that even in close combat, another gifted person would have had no chance, falling asleep standing up without even having time to strike, and here the enemy was well prepared. Absolute multiplies the power of sleep induction, but the backlash from the talent's failure also increases proportionally.

The opponent dozed off, aimed at Ilya, struck with all his might, already rubbing his greasy palms and planning his next moves, but then he got a backlash.

And he died.

It is not known whether this fight will remain the fastest of those that Ilya experienced, but it will certainly remain in his memory as the strangest.

An additional bonus for the winner: one of the emptied Vessels of Rebirth is refilled, but if all of them are full or missing, one additional temporary Vessel of Rebirth is awarded!

Wow!

Wow!?

Vessel of Rebirth: 4/3 (100x(Stage) Essence per Rebirth Charge)

A spare life from nothing, instead of hundreds of units of essence or a very expensive and complicated ritual, or a visit to a great place of power, or the blessing of an ancient temple, or... well, there are many options. In any case, it was worth attending the tournament for this alone, even if this Vessel is not quite complete. If it is emptied, it will instantly disintegrate, but it will disintegrate instead of emptying one of the true Vessels.

Okay, this generosity is really frightening. Is everyone so lucky, or only earthlings, whose award coefficients have been adjusted, like the foundation of the tournament? It's a question into the void, a question without an answer, because who would answer such a question? The Mechanism's avatar, personally, or a system administrator from the Ancients?

The Fifth of the Fights!

Still, he's really "lucky" today with reasonable opponents, unless to count Günther. He immediately saw the crossed-out moon on the enemy's banner, even before he saw the coat of arms of the ruling Sarshakh-Nere tribe and the vague but recognizable face of the enemy, who looked at him with contempt and malice, like a radical mullah who had been force-fed by lard. The Pure One eats pork, by the way. They have no culinary taboos, despite the jokes that are made about it.

He wouldn't have remembered this name for all the money in the European Union, but he appeared in the reports, appearing as a very successful diver who regularly boasted about his successes on their version of the Forum. That's why the earthlings knew about him, because he bragged. That's why he bragged, because no earthlings seemed to have been born in his sector. Otherwise, he would obviously have been more cautious, as the Pure Ones had been taught to be over many years of living together in Broken.

He didn't say anything to Ilya, just ran his finger under his throat, lightly touching his neat beard, as if to say, “You're finished.” Ilya didn't say anything either, just tilted his head to one side like a bird, as if lost in thought. Or as if hanged, like a large part of this figure's relatives, hanging for several cycles on the Weeping Tree grown especially for them, slowly giving the contents of their vessels to the tree and allowing it to more effectively drink the Heart belonging to their community. Judging by his gaze, he clearly understood the hint.

Marauder, Gladiator, or Soul Slayer?

Marauder, Gladiator, or Soul Slayer?

Marauder, Gladiator, or Soul Slayer?

It seems that Ilya is not a great guesser, because as soon as they found themselves in a stone bag the size of a mini-football field, the smiling enemy shrugged his shoulders as if throwing off something invisible and disappeared into thin air, as if he had never been there. So, the Killer. Ilya didn't show a moment of panic, preferring to stand relaxed and simply wait, without even moving into a fighting stance. The freak had pumped himself up well. Even his vision, pushed to the limit of comfortable acceleration and managing to catch the enemy with “Insight” aspect, could only make out the barely visible silhouette of a calmly beating heart. And the silhouette spinning in the opposite direction was also muted, but much clearer, deliberately left behind, and illuminated.

Everything will happen quickly here, too. The main thing is not to make a mistake and not to believe in yourself too much. Ilya's pupils don't move at all, but his Eye allows him to see the hidden silhouette of the heart more clearly, allowing him to keep his gaze fixed on it. He closes his eyes completely, concentrating even harder and waiting, waiting, waiting for the moment. He waited, although Pure One tried to play on his nerves, waiting and just circling, waiting and playing the hunter. Playing the hunter is fun, but Ilya lacked experience with those who wanted to play this game with him.

And lose.

The clearer silhouette fills with power, becomes even clearer, and lunges at Ilya from behind and from the left, while the second one, the one Ilya keeps in constant focus, blurs even more, becomes almost indistinguishable, and lunges from behind, but from the right. Ilya waits until the last moment, taking a step toward the right... and then a step to the side and back, turning on his toes and Breathing out with full force in front of him, in a “feint.” The Hide seems to be torn off by a warm wind, preventing it from unfolding to its full power, and the back seems to be cut by a pair of razor blades, letting blood flow and almost piercing the liver, getting stuck in the frozen body. But this blow is weak, too weak, not what the Assassin should deliver with the same number of drops as Ilya. It's what a “False Clone” pumped up to three out of four steps or a “Voluntary Bait” pumped up to three out of five would deliver.

Assassins, especially those pumped up in Sarshakh-Nere, have a bad habit of taking the “Elusive Observer” talent with four steps. And then they reinforce it with an aspect called “Mirror,” which lets you know that someone is watching you. And with the aspect “Attention,” they also determine the direction, degree of attentiveness, and interest of that gaze. This is a very, very popular combination and an equally popular tactic, often reducing the battle to who will overthink the opponent, rather than to the speed of reaction or the power of striking talents. Ilya, seeing this strange spinning in opposite directions, immediately suspected something was wrong, but was ready to take the blow himself, even if the Hide didn't work.

It didn't work, by the way.

An Ice Breath toward the enemy and an instant transformation decide the fight, preventing the enemy from using his main trump card — two curved daggers with long, wavy blades. The earthling does not know the rank of this relic, but suspects that it is no less than that of the very same net. He really, really does not want to get even a scratch from them, so much so that he is ready to expose his Hideless back and use ++wastefulness just to avoid these scratches. The ghostly scales of “Snake Skin” covering the Assassin's body take the Ice Breath, a pair of amulets hidden under an elegant and enchanted robe explode, and the enemy himself blinks, moving behind Ilya and already “preparing to penetrate,” but finding no target.

The blades cut through the empty air, where Ilya is no longer present, only the dissipated idea of Evil, and then Ilya is there again, only now facing the Pure One, and even grabbing him by the wrists with his broad, thin hands. He grabs him with a characteristic crunch, to the scream, the cry, and the Ice Breath exhaled in that very cry, which freezes the lungs to hell. Just enough for Ilya to change back into human form and back again, and the freak who had either dropped off pumped up “False Life” or used the resurrection relic was once again unable to pierce anything but emptiness with his knives.

This time, Ilya steps out of the Transformation slightly to the side and again breaks the distance with three consecutive Steps, using up his reserves and covering the entire room with a not-too-concentrated Ice Breath of Cold. It suddenly became clear to him that this guy was excessively good, had very good gear, and therefore it was better to proceed without risk. His eyes had already caught the real opponent; he would not make a mistake, and he would not hide. The Eye came into full power, adapting to its prey. The combination with his fighting style allowed him to literally predict the movements of the Pure One, to see the point of exit of his blink before he made it. And the earthling simply ran in circles from the Assassin, who was slowly pursuing him at first.

Then pursuing hastily.
Then pursuing hastily, while his amulets, one by one, died and crumbled into icy crumbles.
Then fell dead as a frozen monster, who immediately rose again, leaving behind an authentic-looking corpse.

And within the next minute, he repeated this experiment twice more.

Supported by "Source" and "Horns", the cloud gradually froze even Ilya himself, becoming colder and colder, infused by Cald. And no matter what relic helped the asshole to survive, it too had its limits, and those limits were much closer than Ilya's. When, for the sixth time, the pure one, desperately cursing and swearing at the “shameful jackal,” the “slaughtered pig,” and the “vomited bastard,” fell, he did not get up, but simply cracked and began to crumble into icy dust and debris. To be fair, by that point even Ilya's jaws were clenched from the cold, and his horns were itching as if they were about to break off.

The fight is over!

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

A full twenty, it is possible to improve, but one must really think carefully about what exactly he critically needs to improve right now.

An additional bonus for the winner: an additional temporary Vessel of Rebirth becomes permanent!

Okay, for that, he's ready to kill the ruling brats of Sarshakh-Nere, equipped to the teeth, three times a day, every day, in the morning, at noon, and in the evening. However, most earthlings would kill these assholes for free. They really stand out even among their other “neighbors,” next to whom one most often has to be born in Broken. These individuals know how to make friends and win mutual affection; some people are naturally gifted in this regard, but here it has been bestowed upon the entire global population. Well, almost the whole world; there are normal people there, too, probably, but they are usually not allowed into Broken.

Once again, Ilya sits on the stone platform, looking at himself, giving drops of freezing gold and blood to the greedy and cold wind. It seems as if some giant is breathing next to him, breathing and about to swallow him in one breath, returning him on the exhale. The shroud of icy wind and snowflakes covering the lake seems to swirl into a small vortex around the altar. This vortex appears and disappears, turning into a multitude of small gusts, but it still returns again and again. The diver returned to normal perception, looking at the lines of his personal status.

Ice Breath: 3/5 (Essence invested: 0/30)

Having become related to the Cald, having accepted it into themselves, Wendigo are able to draw strength from it, turning the Cald onto the surrounding world, exhaling a small part of it, becoming for a moment a conductor and a door that the Cald brings into the world. It burns with cold, curses with frost, weakens and marks with Cald, affecting a wide front and passing through the smallest cracks in defense.

The overall power of the talent has been slightly increased, the volume covered, penetration ability, and secondary effects of exhalation have increased significantly, and the cost of maintaining the effect has been slightly reduced.

Source: Absorbing more and more Cald, the one who knows his path, Wendigo gradually forms a concentration of this power within himself, strengthening a unique transition between flesh and the doors that the breath opens in its application. Having taken shape in the essence of the Wendigo, the formed Source significantly enhances the striking effects of the Icy Breath, making it more powerful, its curse more dangerous, and its ability to bypass or completely ignore defenses even more flexible. At the same time, the use and maintenance of the talent itself becomes extremely cheap due to the presence of the same Source, a reinforced and strengthened door through which the Cald enters the world. And the wider the door opens, the easier it is to keep it open, but the higher the price you have to pay.

The depth of damage from the Breath has been significantly increased, the degree of penetration of the targets' magical defense has been increased, and the reserve costs for activating the talent have been noticeably reduced.

Epicenter: By completely surrendering his frozen body to the embrace of snow and ice, to the very essence of eternal Cald, Wendigo gains the ability to become the center of a cold cloud, its integral part, the eye of the storm, and the guiding star. Now the cold he creates will follow him step by step, and it will become increasingly difficult for him to freeze himself. After all, how can something that is already frozen freeze? How can you escape a blizzard if it comes after you? How can you escape if this blizzard has a hungry mouth, thirsting for its prey?

The second case of active linking of aspects is, albeit incomplete for now, direct confirmation that he correctly chose the aspect of “Breath” for “Frozen Flesh” in order to now obtain “Epicenter.” Now his talent allows Ilya to demonstrate excellent “control of space,” literally subjugating the territory and weakening everyone around him. Breath Out, then support the Source and kill all those who venture into the cloud of Cald. Or those who do not have time and are unable to get out of it. Or both, and even a third group on top of that.

It's not a unique thing. For example, there are the ink clouds of the old candy grandpa, or the talents of all kinds of Assassins, who summon their damn effective “Bloody Mist” or “Sinister Mist” of Druids, or “Vile Cloud” of Alchemists, or “Shadow Sphere” of Warlocks. It's just that his Ice Breath can now perform a similar function, which is why he took this talent in the first place. It's the perfect tool against both single targets and groups, and it doesn't cost a Talent, just an Aspect. However, it is incredibly difficult to obtain such a combination of aspects without having both “Frozen Flesh” and at least a little bit of “Knowledge of the Curse.” In theory, it is possible, but the chances are so slim that it's not even funny. It's a statistical error, nothing more.

There were other options as well. One of them was planned to be used if the Epicenter didn't work out. A rather illogical aspect called “Thought” allowed the Ice Breath to slow down the thinking, reactions, and consciousness of the victims, very subtly and damn effectively. Among cold talents, there are generally many Aspects of a mental nature, whereas purely mental Talents, on the contrary, are very few, even when compared to Hunger.

He wouldn't take “Particle” aspect. It's purely a caster aspect, for cotton wool mages, not hybrid fighters. But a good caster with the right talents and developed Aurora and Radiance can manipulate dozens of small lumps of Cald as if they were a whole swarm of separate spells. He also didn't need "Perpetuity" aspect, which made frostbite very, no, really very difficult to cure and constantly growing, taking root, and finishing off the once-afflicted victim. This aspect would be ideal for an exterminator. Even if he didn't kill the victim right away, they would die later or simply be unable to heal.

The fifth aspect would suit Ilya if he developed into a Wendigo that was extremely classic by the standards of the Broken World or cinematic builds. Active “Freezing” allowed him to freeze not only meat, but also the essence within it, absorbing almost two to three times more than when simply devouring it. Sucking on a lollipop, so to speak. Combined with talents for gluttony and the absorption of strength and flesh, it was simply delightful to watch. Only from a great distance, yes.

Having finished with Talent and spent ten minutes getting used to the new Aspect, Ilya assessed his inner monster, locked in constantly breaking and renewing chains, and prepared for a new battle. Yes, each subsequent battle promised to be harder, and the fight with the damn Pure One had not been easy at all, but he was optimistic. Even if he lost, no one could take away what he had already gained. And anyway, he would still have chances. He didn't consider himself invincible, but he knew for sure that it would be extremely difficult to find an opponent against whom he would be completely powerless. Not among those with equal ranks and equal amounts of invested drops.

The Sixth of the Fights!

An unfamiliar world emblem, like a ring of gems around a winged bird, the lesser emblem identical to the greater, signifying the complete unity of the world and its subordination to a single chain of command. Even the emblem of a clan-family-sect-corporation ruling the entire world always differs from the universal banner. The opponent looks at it with mild interest, a smile, and a hidden anticipation, utterly unafraid, yet without expressing disdain. Much the same way Ilya himself views an interesting task involving ENT work or calculating the mechanics of clearing a gap.

Ilya looks at his rival, dressed in the light, comfortable clothes of a typical country noblewoman, completely unenchanted. She's armed only with two simple, long kukri knives at her belt, a captivating smile, and enormous green eyes that gaze upon the world with surprising optimism. Ilya looks at her, looks at the top of her head, where, twitching slightly, they meet where human ears are... ears that are anything but human. Long, fluffy, with beautiful tufts, cat ears.

Catgirl, damn it.

Cat, damn, blood.

On the first, first step!

It's even somehow blasphemous on his part to think that he's not the dishonestly lucky cheater here.

For the first time since the start of the tournament, Ilya allows himself to give in to his emotions and express them in one short word, full of the emotions he is currently experiencing.

"Fuck."

Catgirl smiled happily.
* * *

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP