В хронике моей... / In the Chronicle of Mine: 2.

2.

Camrad_RIP 06.05.26 в 08:07

He woke up in the middle of the night, unsure of what exactly had woken him up. It certainly wasn’t the loud snoring—he’d almost grown accustomed to it, and his weary mind had shut down instantly. No, there was something else that made him sit up off the floor, looking around blearily and shivering slightly from the cold. It’s hard not to freeze when sleeping on the rocks! It was almost pitch black all around, with only a small torch burning in the far corner, where Balar and his team were on duty. They had been ordered to organize that very watch. You’re responsible for the others; you get your privileges in return. So work for those privileges, and don’t slack off. This line of reasoning seemed to be a novelty to the former nobleman, but he remained silent and organized the watch rotations quite professionally.

Camrad_RIP 06.05.26 в 08:21

Leonid’s eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, could make out their silhouettes and even the nobleman’s face, but it wasn’t them that alarmed him—it was something else. Almost immediately, he realized what it was—the absence of Eric nearby. He had managed to get up and go somewhere. Squinting and trying to make out his surroundings better, Leonid made out a lone figure wandering off toward the far rooms, away from the great hall. He didn’t realize what exactly had alarmed him—the strangeness of the gait, the abnormality of the situation, Grok’s words before they went to sleep? Or even those howls of the wind, in which he thought he heard words sounding on the border between reality and a dream? He had heard them as he was falling asleep, which is why he didn’t fully realize that this was completely out of the ordinary.

Camrad_RIP 06.05.26 в 08:27

The Earthling didn’t understand a thing. That was true, but he sprang into action anyway. He got to his feet and, keeping quiet so as not to wake everyone around him, hurled his own boot—which he’d yanked off his foot in one swift motion—at the dazed Eric. The common hall was quite spacious, but the boot easily flew nearly ten meters, hitting the red-haired head of his fellow misfortune-stricken man right on the mark. And right then it became clear that things were starting to smell like three-month-old socks. After taking the blow, the redhead didn’t even slow down, continuing to stride forward at a leisurely pace. Toward the already ajar door leading into the depths of the fortress-tavern. While it was still daylight, the men had managed to go in and look around, but they hadn’t found anything valuable or interesting. Or had they been prevented from finding anything? And anyway, hadn’t they been locked in tight before spending the night? Why was the door even ajar?

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:30

Without a moment’s hesitation, just as he had done with the boot, Leonid takes a deep breath and shouts at the top of his lungs, sincerely hoping that, as Grok had promised, he won’t be beaten up for causing a false alarm:

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:17

“Alarm!!!” With a shout like that, you could get a job as a sergeant in the army, as his supervisor used to say, threatening yet another suspension. And so everyone woke up at once; there were shouts, screams, swearing, and even a woman’s shriek, but Eric didn’t stop, as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “Stop!!! Eh!!!”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:18

The final interjectional syllable rings out as the two bodies collide; for the earthling, who had lunged forward, literally knocked the isekai from outer space off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground and finally eliciting that bewildered expression in the form of a curse. The torch flares up instantly, as if lit by magic, illuminating Balar and his henchmen, already armed and ready; the on-duty guides have already descended from above, one holding a torch, the second clutching some sort of glowing crystal, a third simply aims his crossbow at the ceiling, taking his time to point it at whoever he pleases.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:18

\\“Silence, lie still, be quiet, don’t get in!” The sergeant’s special voice, forcing its way into their minds and almost compelling them to listen, instantly calmed everyone down, turning the panicked scrambling into relative order, and there he spotted a couple of figures: a bewildered Eric and Leonid, rubbing his side, barefoot on one leg. “What the hell’s happened here, you bloody idiot? Who was shouting?”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:19

“I was shouting,” replies Leonid, picking up the discarded pair of shoes before anyone else can snatch them. “And I was shouting because something bloody strange is going on, Serg.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:19

“What the hell has happened?”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:19

Leonid explained, pointing at Eric, who didn’t seem to have the faintest idea how he’d ended up there. He even added that he’d had some sort of dream, in which a woman’s voice had been calling him somewhere—it was hard to say whether it was his mum, his girlfriend, his sister, or all of them at once, flying the Alabama flag. At that moment, Grok became not just composed but deadly serious, staring at the half-open door in such a way that one immediately wanted to move as far away from it as possible.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:20

“Where are the other two? We’re missing two. One with a nose like a snout, the other with a face like a horse.” Grok wasn’t just shooting daggers with his eyes; he’d counted every bloke in the room and immediately realised exactly who was missing. “Blar, come here. What the hell’s going on, tell me?”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:20

The nobleman approached without delay, yet without haste; he gazed straight ahead calmly and without the slightest hint of guilt, yet with a respect that was hard to tell whether it was feigned or not. And it would have been strange indeed if he had looked upon this figure without respect; he would have been devoured alive. Grok did not give the impression of someone who would tolerate even a single unkind glance. Nobleman or not, in this world, Grok’s standing was clearly higher than that of anyone else present here. And power brings with it rights, authority, and respect, which is why Grok now had more of all of these.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:21

“I didn’t notice; it’s my fault.” He clearly didn’t want to admit his mistake, but it would have been foolish to deny it. “I thought he was just going for a pee, and that he was the last one. I didn’t see the first two; they were sleeping by the door, and I didn’t spot them in the dark. I was watching the entrance, just as you ordered.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:21

In this moment, Leonid finally realised what had been troubling him; the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and the image of a brightly burning torch became clear, as did Balar’s calm and composed face in its light. The Earthling couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing loudly, even mockingly, like a beast, a coughing laugh like that of a raven suffering from bronchitis, expressing through that guffaw all his boundless scepticism. He completely ignored the young nobleman’s angry, furious glare. But he couldn’t ignore Grok, especially when the latter demanded an explanation with a single look.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:23

“He saw everything, he just kept quiet.” Leonid’s smile was now very faint, like a thread, and completely unnatural, whilst his dark-green eyes were narrowed, like a cat’s, as they always were when he was extremely angry. “Or rather, he didn’t see those two, but he certainly noticed Eric as he walked across the hall. I saw his face at that moment, and his gaze was definitely fixed on the man walking towards him. He was simply waiting for him to disappear. They were both at loggerheads, and the redhead had deigned to speak ill of His Lordship. He should have waited, then raised the alarm, and made himself look like a hero in the process.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:23

Some might call it snitching and all that, but as far as Leonid was concerned, it was simply a matter of being conscientious and a categorical refusal to let the next one disappear. Balar’s expression conveyed nothing but mocking contempt, along with a fair measure of indignation, as if he’d heard some utter nonsense. The Earthling even began to doubt his own conclusion, but Grok had no such doubts; he silently turned to meet Balar’s gaze and asked just one question.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:24

“Is he right?” The indifference and weary longing to go to bed in the senior’s words were far more frightening than the usual malice and swearing; it really got under the skin.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:24

"The peasant lies like a ploughing animal.” The reply was instant and delivered with absolute certainty. “Or if he isn’t lying, he’s making things up, which is even worse. He’s asking for a beating, and he’ll get it for sure, so he’s desperate to slander me.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:25

The senior, his expression unchanged, reached into his inside pocket in a single movement and pulled out a chain with a completely black stone hanging from it, then tossed it to Balar, waiting for him to catch it. Only then did he repeat his question, in the same tone as before.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:25

“Is he right?” At this point, an earthling well-versed in all manner of fantasy and other fan fiction would surely have grown suspicious, starting to look for euphemisms without outright lying, but a man hailing from some medieval era of Earthly fantasy had not read such things.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:27

“I repeat, the peasant lied; I swear upon my noble honour.” Leonid thought that the fool had actually taken this pendant as some sort of reward for his service, without even realising that he ought to have been afraid, even when the black pebble had quite noticeably glinted snow-white. “Yk!”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:27

The earthling didn’t even notice the blow; he only pieced the scene together afterwards, it had happened so quickly. In the blink of an eye, instead of a proud nobleman seething with disbelief, there lay a piece of shit on the ground, howling in pain. In Leonid’s opinion, this was a very fitting state for this person, but no one was interested in the opinions of the isekai right now. In two swift movements, Grok landed on top of the defeated upstart, knocking aside the hand of the ‘aristocrat’ who had tried to strike with his blade, and then plunging a knife into his liver, eliciting another scream of agony, which quickly subsided, especially after a couple more blows to the head. Only when he had finished, wiping the blade on the bastard’s clothes and returning the amulet to his pocket, did Grok glance at Eric, who was as pale as death and had already realised what might have become of him, as well as at Leonid, who was looking on indifferently.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:30

“What’s your name?” Whilst they’re talking here, the guides keep coming down from upstairs, along with the girls who’d been left in a separate room.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:30

“Leonid Ptakh.” He introduced himself by name, suspecting that it wasn’t worth lying now, just in case.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:30

“That’s a good name, Ptakh.” The newly minted Ptakh merely chuckled to himself, for he had been given back his school nickname, which was identical to his surname. ‘That’s what I’ll call you. Will you be the leader of the other isekais?’

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:31

“No, sir.” He shakes his head, without even pausing to consider the question, and then, in a clear, measured tone, with perfect diction and a minimum of emotion, gives the reason for his refusal. “I am irresponsible, absent-minded, unreliable, and frivolous.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:31

“Yeah, right, you faggot, I’ll believe that, I’ll believe that. But I’m not going to force you, I don’t give a shit.” That’s reassuring, unlike the next question. “You’ve got the skill now, haven’t you? What have you got?”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:31

He wanted to keep quiet, but there was no point; the question didn’t sound like a question at all, but rather a statement, as if there were no room for doubt. Since the nobleman, who had already fallen silent, possessed a worthy skill of his own, Ptakh saw no reason to hide his own. One of his own, the most obvious and conspicuous, whilst the other might well be left unsaid.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:32

“Fortitude. I haven’t put any points into that yet.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “I’d be grateful for any advice you might have.”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:32

“Fortitude… Not bad, not bad. If I hadn’t drunk away my memory, I’d have put two of my starting points into ‘Sturdy Body’ and the last one into ‘Resonance’; there’s no point messing with the aura—it’s useless at the moment.” Scratching his beard and chin, the bloke just waved his hand, clearly thinking of something else, then finished his thought. “Right then, consider your shout paid for, lad. Take this little bastard’s boots and dagger and go and sit down. And we’ll go and close the fucking gap and chuck the bodies out. It’s clearly gone, since we scared it off, but I didn’t give a shit about sleeping here without checking. Shurka, Babak, follow me, for fuck’s sake!”

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:35

Leonid ignored the sound advice, preferring to hold back a little longer, particularly regarding the talent in question, which he believed would protect him from blows to the mind. The very same blows that had turned Eric, who had begun to tremble like an aspen leaf and had turned completely green even in the light of the torches, into a sleepwalker. Forcing him to walk to his own death, just like the two unfortunate souls whose bodies, dried out and stripped of eyes, entrails, and scrotums, were found beyond the outpost. On the other side of the wide-open window, the shutters of which had been removed from the inside, they had left the fortification just as quietly and silently, only to meet an extremely unpleasant death. However, according to the guides, the corpses’ faces were frozen in incredibly satisfied smiles, like a cat that had drowned in a tub of sour cream.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:35

The nocturnal visitor herself—or rather, the Night Visitor, as they called such a creature—had indeed gone, until morning, amidst the howling wind. All that could be heard was the howling wind and nothing else. As it turned out—or rather, as the natives explained—the creature had long since taken to hunting in this region; they’d been unable to track it down for months now. A swift, dangerous, elusive and devilishly cunning beast, wielding mental magic and some other striking power, as well as invisibility and illusions, which made it difficult to catch, and escaping it is even harder. An extremely troublesome opponent for both those stronger than it and those weaker. The Earthling had thought he wouldn’t sleep a wink after hearing the news about such a neighbour, but no, he passed out instantly, having merely placed an old shoe under his head whilst a more comfortable new one settled cosily on his feet. He even clutches the dagger in its sheath close to him, as if a mother would her own child, lest those bastards steal it.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:36

They set out in the morning while it was already light, waiting for dawn to dispel the lingering chill of the night and the night mist, which seemed to move of its own accord, gathering into tentacles and reaching out towards warm human flesh. Were these manifestations of some creature’s abilities or simply a natural phenomenon with a magical twist? The guides didn’t answer, merely brushing it off with a curse. Leonid suspected they simply didn’t know the answer, but he didn’t comment aloud – these assholes reacted very decisively to insults, or what seemed to be them.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:36

The second day of the journey was noticeably easier, probably because my body had gotten used to the strain, though the two points in the Fortitude skill were likely providing more of a psychological boost. Or perhaps not—who knows? The lunch break was uneventful; for a snack, we were given a loaf of bread wrapped in some sort of edible leaf, hard as a rock on the outside but still soft on the inside. They washed it down with water from the nearest spring, which they first collected in our mess tins and then disinfected with some sort of powder. According to Grok, this was to prevent us from shitting their guts out, or rather, to prevent them from shitting out a xenomorph parasite, since the creatures that lay their larvae in running water were eradicated only a couple of years ago, and before that, the city was nearly swallowed up by the sea, along with the zombie apocalypse.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:36

There were more attacks, but they were simpler and easier to weather. Two more flocks of Ravens appeared, but one was small and didn’t dare to dive-bomb such a crowd, flying off to mind its own business; the second circled around the people who’d spotted them and formed a defensive line, before flying off as well. Well, unless you count the targeted throwing of bird shit as petty revenge. Mind you, one of the isekai had a bomb like that hit him in the face, nearly burning out his eyes with toxins; Grok still had to use a bit of alchemy to wipe his face and restore his sight. Well, mostly to restore it so he could at least see where to go, and then let him find his own ways to save his increasingly failing eyesight.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:37

It wasn’t just aerial threats that made the journey memorable – they encountered all manner of beasts too, but these were quickly killed or retreated even faster, so as not to become the group’s next meal. Two guides were badly mauled by some wolfhounds, resembling a dog trainer’s nightmare after taking hard drugs; one of the wounded even passed away, becoming the first casualty among Grok’s men. The second was laid on a stretcher, which the isekais were forced to carry, naturally. Leonid got a share of the work too; they said he was tough, so let him prove his toughness. He had to take up the burden and drag it along, mentally wishing the local fauna would end up in the Red Book, the Black Book, and all the other books at once. Perhaps even in the Book of Grievances, so it would be easier later to justify the extinction of said fauna.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:38

The second fortress-inn they came across was even larger and looked noticeably fresher and tidier, with no signs of neglect. It even had a garrison of a dozen workers and five guards, who practically sniffed Grok’s pass badge but still let him in. They took the news of the night creature’s rampage in their stride, saying that without mental protection amulets—whether rented or bought with their own hard-earned money—they hadn’t slept for several moons. And the ritual enchantments on the walls had only recently been renewed, and it hadn’t even been three years yet, so they weren’t particularly afraid. But after sunset, of course, no one would venture beyond the walls, no way.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:38

Once again, the isekais had to cook for themselves, even though they’d been given considerably more food. Only now it wasn’t the late nobleman in charge, but a couple of weary—and consequently grumpy—guides. They didn’t lift a finger themselves, but they made sure everyone got their share, and the quickest on their feet even got a second serving. Ptakh turned out to be quite quick on his feet, if anything. They went to bed differently, too. They put locals on watch, not trusting the fresh-faced isekais, but the night passed without incident. In the morning, it was the same again; they set off with the last wisps of mist, striding swiftly along the increasingly level road. Now the paved road ran not between the hills but across the plain, where small patches of forest appeared every now and then; Grok tried to avoid these patches whenever possible, even if it meant leaving the road and trudging for several kilometres through grass and over bumps. Leonid fully shared his view; he had the feeling that something was watching them all from there.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:38

Wickedly.
With interest.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 09:39

The attacks had almost ceased; one even began to come across isolated buildings—neither quite villages, nor quite farmsteads, nor quite hunting posts—but the people heading towards Morochny simply did not go near them. Only once, and with Grok’s permission, did a couple of guides dash off to one such hamlet and return with fresh, still-warm flatbreads filled with cheese. Naturally, only Grok and his company got to eat them, whilst the newcomers drooled with envy. There were no more protests; everyone realised they wouldn’t be fobbed off, just as they realised that running away was pointless—they’d be devoured. Well, perhaps right now, when the settled lands were noticeably closer, but no one had managed to try. In the end, the resentment was directed more at that very representative of that very profession, who earned her exclusive sustenance in the well-known manner.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:42

The locals, sensing they were close to home, had become far too complacent; they had grown far too accustomed to the ever-changing scenery. They didn’t bother to go round a small patch of woodland, about a hundred metres wide and three hundred metres long, stretching along the track. The grass here was too tall; no one fancied hacking their way through it and then picking burrs out of their clothes, and even fewer fancied stepping on some poisonous creature in that grass, so they went straight through. And so they went, only to run straight into trouble—and quite suddenly, even for highly experienced guides who ought to be prepared for such twists and turns.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:42

There was no warning, nor were there any cries. In an instant, Leonid, looking straight ahead, saw the guide walking in front of him collapse silently, as if struck down, followed by the two others walking alongside him. He collapsed next, though not with anyone’s help, but by his own choice, falling and hiding behind a small embankment at the side of the road. Grok’s scream, so foul that even the prepositions in it would have had to be bleeped out on television, cuts right to the bone and compels action, causing people to react faster than they ought to. Glancing sideways, the Earthling sees an arrow sticking out of his comrade’s body, thin and almost toy-like, thinner than a needle. Only from the pierced neck, a purple network of veins spreads along the wound before his eyes, and the body doesn’t even twitch, having died almost instantly. Or perhaps he died because the arrow struck with such precision. The other wounded writhe and scream, both for themselves and for the dead.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:41

Grabbing his cleaver and taking cover from the barrage, he witnessed the end of the attack, after which the enemy launched a hand-to-hand assault. Some might have called these creatures goblins, but they bore a closer resemblance to those from the Professor’s works than to more modern fantasy examples. Ugly, deformed, with limbs of varying lengths, and covered in sores all over their bodies, almost naked save for the most primitive bindings and skins – they presented such a sight that would turn anyone into a xenophobe. Or a stammerer. But, most likely, a stammering xenophobe. They attacked with utter fearlessness, yet somewhat foolishly, only from one side, getting in the way of their own archers, striving at any cost to kill, to kill anyone alive.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:41

There turned out to be just over a hundred of them, and yet, despite their numbers, without the element of surprise, they were clearly outmatched by the guides. Even more. Armed with sticks or stones picked up along the way, the isekais were, if not superior, then practically equal to them. In terms of weaponry, that was certainly the case – the same sticks, only slightly sharpened, plus stones for throwing and simply clenched in their hands, formed the basis of the attackers’ arsenal. The creatures’ raid on the human camp was more like a flock of birds attempting to defeat an aeroplane’s turbine – the aeroplane might come to a halt, but the birds would never see it for obvious reasons.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:41

The freaks went down almost at a single blow, so Leonid had to get back on his feet, slashing at the first with a lunge to cut down a freak that had rushed past him. The creature hadn’t even noticed the earthling, intent on slitting the throat of a plump lady who had already fallen on her arse and was shrieking desperately as she passed by—a woman remembered for moonlighting in the world’s oldest profession. She began to scream even louder when a corpse twitching in agony fell at her feet, and she herself was splattered with dark grey blood. Leonid himself nearly became a corpse next, for unlike his ancient namesake, he was not clad in the full armour of a noble hoplite, nor did he have two hundred and ninety-nine comrades at his side. Moreover, he had been impermissibly distracted by a flood of images that had flashed through his mind, testifying to the successful killing. It was not a distraction, and he could easily have continued the fight, but he succumbed to curiosity and deliberately listened in’, nearly paying the price for it.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:40

Enemy defeated (humanoid/corrupted): Maimed runt, zero step.
Primordial essence obtained.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:33

The name certainly captures the essence of the thing, but the earthling had no time to appreciate the humour of the local system, pardon me, Omnipresent One, having barely managed to parry the clumsy thrust of the spear. Though it’s a stretch to call such a weapon a spear, it was really just a stick with a wooden tip charred over a fire. However, had that stick, gouged out of the earth and covered in muck, struck the newcomer’s unprotected belly, the pain would have been for an entirely different reason. The freak fought like a disabled child, literally. He struck with the strength, agility and coordination of a frail, drunken teenager, yet he was utterly devoid of restraint and any instinct for self-preservation. Leonid dodged the first lunge by a miracle; he parried the second with a perfectly passable, if amateurish, block, recalling those three Tolkien-themed role-playing sessions he’d attended back in his final years at school.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:34

In his defence, he went there to chase after a classmate’s skirt, not to enjoy the scenery and the atmosphere. That’s how I’ve remembered it ever since: orcs are faggots, elves are gays, and Teleporno is a proper man, whoever he may be. Well, he managed two strikes with a fibreglass sword, as well as a block and a half, because getting hit on the head hurt, especially from his classmate’s mates. To sum up, Leonid was the sort of fencer whose opponent was more likely to die of laughter than from his skill. What could speak more clearly of the level of training of these freaks, if his existing ‘talent’ was enough to out-fence the poor wretches?

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:34

A thrust of the blade left a long, gushing wound of a putrid, crimson-grey hue on the creature’s torso, causing it to shriek in pain, yet it did not cease its attack. The second blow added another wound just as gruesome yet completely harmless, whilst the third struck its head, nearly bending the flimsy blade but tearing off the scalp and shaking the skull. It was enough to make the creature stagger, and Leonid delivered the fourth blow with a more familiar kick from his foot, squarely to the head. The neck snapped, whereupon the freak fell to the ground, and the earthling stepped forward and delivered another blow to the head—only this time to the other one—shattering the skull of the diminutive alien who had been distracted by the finishing blow.

Camrad_RIP 09.05.26 в 11:32