Готовый перевод В хронике моей... / In the Chronicle of Mine: 5.

5.

* * *

The higher-level runts proved to be a more challenging opponent, but the properly equipped guys still dispatched them with relative ease. The slimes also fell off quickly after receiving a refreshing shower of specialized potions. The mine's nature, where this type of creature was encountered regularly, was a factor in their being well-prepared to confront them. But those familiar pipers, who no longer rushed forward but hung back, supporting their own with an etheric wail, weakening the humans—they became a problem. Fortunately, not only does Ptakh understand this, but also the more experienced local fighters, who no longer tolerate enemy casters. The humans didn't have any high-level mages of their own, but practically any skill could provide magical tricks, especially if properly invested. A couple of those gathered here also had decent low-level magic, though they weren't particularly effective; the fighters did most of the work, as is always the case at lower levels.

* * *

Ptakh didn't go straight to the moneylender's office. He first changed into a newly purchased set of simple clothes, then ate a hearty meal and drank a small jug of wine for the repose of all those he didn't know and for whom, by and large, he frankly didn't care, and only then did he head to the gnomes. The wine, incidentally, wasn't intoxicating at all; his twenty-one points of Fortitude were making a difference. Just for the record: the average city dweller with any skill, primarily using that skill for work, reaches fifty mastery points closer to five years after receiving the Chronicle. And if they even reach a hundred, it's only after fifteen years.

Around this time, they reach level four, or less commonly, level five, if they're residents of Stable rather than Wild Territories. There, the very air gradually infuses the breather with the Primordial Essence. They usually reach twenty-five mastery points by the beginning of their second year, but sometimes it happens faster. In his case, it's also worth considering the skill point reward for reaching fifty points on the skill scale. And finally, Avaris, when he was no longer citing facts but merely theories, expressed a suspicion that Ptakh's gift omitted several secondary factors that would make any enhancements gained through leveling, on average, stronger for the time traveler than for the average commoner.

But even if that's true, it won't be much, and it won't compare to the bonuses for skill points.

On the way to the bank, the Earthling doesn't meditate; he keeps checking his surroundings, but his thoughts still keep drifting to his own status, his own Chronicle. He's replayed it in his head many times before. Mastering a magic skill is difficult; it requires extensive and specific training, requiring both resources and connections to organize it. Or sign up for a Trial. It's much faster, albeit with certain risks, but only a master of that skill with three hundred in the requested skill can grant such a Trial. Or "only" two hundred and the position of Guild Mentor, but then the quest's "charges" are less.

Such people won't waste these charges. For each Trial, they are paid either exorbitant sums of money, or very specific and invaluable services, or something comparable. In the case of the most unique skills, like the legendary True Skills, the very right to receive such a Trial and the chance to acquire the desired skill (the chance of failure and death is much higher, orders of magnitude higher) serves as a valuable political asset, and in the Swan Kingdom, such mentors simply don't exist, officially or unofficially. In short, when he listened to Avaris, he understood perfectly why he insisted on the Sage-Monk combination. And, thinking rationally, Ptakh couldn't have expected what would happen in the rift.

Even Avaris couldn't, even though he was a fucking expert on every conceivable issue, utterly obsessed with his own self-importance! Damn Ballisus was considered an unsinkable colossus of the Morochny's mining sector. Who knew it would collapse, pushed from behind, the moment Ptakh arrived to visit? Ptakh, with the last possible seconds of waiting for a system message counting down before his eyes.

Performance Assessment Completed: Skill Available for Learning!
Skill: Ether Magic (High)
Accept?

He wanted to scream and shout and take the skill, but then all his plans for the perfect build would show a fat, cellulite-covered ass, stinking and endless, as vast as planet Earth itself. Without "Erudition," being a mage is incredibly difficult; it's literally a mandatory support skill for pure casters, just like "Meditation" is for monks, for example. And that's just "Erudition." You also need weapon mastery for staffs, wands, and other magical paraphernalia, which also ruins your chances of gaining a True skill.

Of course, he could have tried creating a hybrid build, following the path of the high aristocracy and overcompensating for their own mistakes with extra skill points. It's doable, but not for a complete noob who knows nothing and won't gain the necessary knowledge because it's not readily available. And there's no chance of another visit to the advisor, either. What a shame! The chances of making a mistake and screwing everything up are orders of magnitude higher than the chances of success; that's all there is to it. And that's why, and that's why alone, Ptakh sadly watches the line of the Chronicle fade away, losing the chance to earn a full-fledged magical school.

The bank, withdrawing money, the way to the office, the same burly man at the entrance with his uncharacteristically intelligent and attentive gaze, the same warm and soft interior inside. The look of the short-staffed gnome is no longer so captivating: either she's not trying as hard, not seeing the reason, or the increased protection of "Fortitude" is playing a role. The head gnome isn't particularly talkative either, merely checking for the required amount and citing the interest rate, as well as the amount of interest for early repayment. Ptakh feigns indignation, but they both understand he'll pay, would pay more if necessary, but the gnome doesn't press, and Ptakh pretends not to understand how much he wants to press.

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

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/88665/597109

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP