Chapter 20

*Talik*


"As you wish," Marius rumbled and pointed a bony finger at Talik. "Flesh from the bone!"

The first one to go, Talik noted. Antitank. +25% on the chance of getting crits, +25% damage from incoming crits. How would that work in real life? Stumble and break my legs, get burned by barely warm food? Chance of dying of any kind of accident... Yeah.

Archlich raised his weapon above his head with one hand and murmured a recitative in Latin, preparing the next curse.

It sounds beautiful. I have no idea whether these verses really mean what I know about them. Language isn't completely dead just because of medicine and biology, which I'm not very good at.

The sky darkened, and a long shadow stretched from Talik's feet toward Marius. Lich drove the blade of his scythe hard into it. The metal entered the stone of the mosaic sidewalk like absorbent cotton. The shadow convulsed and melted away.

Talik's heart ached uncomfortably, and he felt a foreign object inside his chest. It didn't hurt, but it wasn't pleasant. Every sigh was a reminder that life now hung in the balance.

It feels creepy, even if I don't know what the fuck is going on in terms of the game math right now. It's like someone is holding my heart with his hand. And it's going to hang for four days if I'm scaling the time correctly. Yeah...

Marius spread his arms wide apart and sang solemnly in the same Latin. The sky darkened even more, and a crimson crack spread across it. A wave of murky-blue haze flew from the Archlich toward Talik. It felt like the fog of the Kaz Plains, only nastier, and not just on the skin, but all over the body.

It was impossible to tell which of these curses was worse than the others. They were all worse. The last one made normal resurrection impossible. He died under its effects, turning into a low-level undead, and staying that way until the curse dissipated over time. It was only by dying again, when the effect wore off, that you could be revived with the same characteristics. Given the loss of experience, of course.

Marius threw his palm forward with curled fingers. For a brief moment, a shimmering scarlet thread connected his hand and Talik. It was as if a long, thin snake had moved beneath Talik's skin. He closed his eyes pushing the obsession away. He knew the effect; the rest he hoped was just self-inflicted.

When he opened his eyes, Marius was right in front of him, at arm's length. Archlich was a third taller, and overwhelming, blocking most of his view.

This was the first time Talik had looked at him so closely. Normally he didn't pay attention to small things but now he could fully appreciate the gatekeeper's appearance.

The robe, lavishly patterned with the finest threads of precious metals, lost its impression of impeccability at close range. There were tiny tears in the worn fabric, the threads of the patterns were loose, and the seams in some places had come undone. The breastplate, visible through the half-opened hem of the garment, was dotted with tiny cracks and holes. The clothes looked hopelessly ruined. And yellow bones with sparse strands of dried flesh peeked through them.

Inwardly, Talik shuddered. He still regarded the appearance of his "servants" more like a stage image of talented actors. Now, looking at Marius' hand reaching out to him, he realized more clearly than ever the fallacy of that impression. Archlich didn't seem, he really was so... unnatural.

Scary.

Marius grabbed Talik hard by the shoulder. His body went numb in that spot, and his arm twitched involuntarily.

The clouds of dust, snow, and crumbs frozen in the air shifted. Slowly at first, barely perceptibly, they quickly accelerated their interrupted stop-and-go motion. From the sky came a deafening, bone-crushing murmur. The crack in it sparkled and melted, and the sky itself quickly brightened, taking on its usual dull gray appearance.

Marius suddenly let go of Talik's shoulder delicately. The blue fire with dots of pupils in the eye sockets almost completely faded.

"So that's how it is..." Archlich whispered barely audible.

Behind him were a crackle and a thunderous crash that tore through the wall at once. Draga burst through the crumbling stone like a black lightning bolt. Her face was no longer beautiful. A spasm of hatred and anger distorted it.

"Bastard!"

Before Talik had a chance to comprehend what was happening, she crashed into Marius, knocking him aside. Archlich slammed into the wall in front of him, a helpless puppet. In a blurred motion, the demon was beside him, swinging her sword over her shoulder.

"Stop!" Talik barely had time to shout. The blade was about to strike the dead man's head. "Get away from him."

"Do you want to punish him personally? At least let me be there! They betrayed You! They must be punished, all of them!"

Her eyes were filled with tears, and her voice was hysterical. But she obeyed the command: she stepped aside, though she didn't lower her weapon.

"Where is Wilhelm?" Talik asked, glancing at the sleeping elfess.

He had to carefully control his breathing and speech. The scream with which he stopped Draga caused a cramp in his lungs and spine.

Instead of answering, she scowled, looking toward the passageway to the crypt. Talik caught the quick, uneven footsteps and hurried away, beckoning Draga to him with his hand.

Wilhelm appeared on the stairs. The "King" was limping badly on one leg, one arm dangling along his body in a limp whip. Where he had stepped with his wounded leg, red stains spread on the ground. His face, with its once neat beard, was drenched in blood, oozing from a deep scar on his forehead.

Wilhelm got up and, without looking around, immediately rushed to the sleeping Illadria. He knelt heavily, leaned over her, dropped his sword, and with his healthy hand turned the elf's head, peering into her serene face. His palm left a dirty red mark on her cheek. When he was sure she was all right, Wilhelm let out a sob, touched his forehead to hers, and stepped back gently.

"What have I done..." he dropped his face into his palm. "How could this have happened...?"

Draga pulled herself up, gripping her sword more comfortably. The stone crumbled beneath her feet. Wilhelm relaxed back, not getting up from his knees or even turning toward her.

"Do what you must, demon. It's all my fault, don't ruin anyone else unless you're told to. And I no longer have the right to be."

Draga turned to Talik, looking expectant and ready.

Talik hesitated for a while, choosing his words. After Marius had cursed him he felt as if he had woken up. His indifferent, almost indifferent attitude had disappeared. At the same time, he remembered everything he had said and done and recognized it as right.

I'm starting to fear them again, and at the same time, I remember why it's stupid. I wonder if that means I've gone crazy, or something else. Whatever, I guess. It's even better with this kind of schizophrenia. At least I feel more confident.

The most important thing he felt, and what strengthened his confidence, was the recovery of his mana reserve. Slow, crippled by Marius, but there it was. Like a ray of hope in a dystopia of despair. And it was the most pleasant thing that had happened to him since he had left the City.

How do you make a man happy? Take everything away from him, and then give a little back, right?

"We are not going to sort out who is to blame for what now," Talik said at last. "You said you had an army waiting for your orders to move. No one's going anywhere just yet. No one's going anywhere for now. Then we'll all go to... my temple and figure out what's what. Marius" Talik turned to the lich "that concerns you, too."

He thought a moment and then added, turning to Archlich again:

"Open the portal to the palace, please."

If I'm wrong about them being robots, in this kind of way we can create some kind of panic. No need for that. It's a pity the temple servants don't have their names, we could try to contact them to check the portal... Although, some of the palace guards do.


*Lias*

Lias sat on the carved bench and watched the strange birds swimming in the small ornamental pond. The day was warm and sunny, with clouds crawling lazily across the bottomless, clear sky.

It was as if he were in a dream, and he didn't know if he wanted to wake up at all.

Behind him, among the lush greenery, was a small three-story white stone palace. In the shadows of one of its towers, Lias watched the wonderfully feathered creatures and the lazy crystal carp.

She'd dragged him here, and told him he wasn't going to snoop around the back alleys looking for a kennel that would suit his tastes. Lias tried to argue that he'd never pay for even a butler's greeting in a place like this. Selene only laughed condescendingly at him, as usual, and promised to arrange with the servants for Lias to have a storeroom allocated for his sleeping quarters.

"Kid, I don't come here often enough to deny myself comfort and luxury. And as for costs, didn't Master Marius say he'd arrange everything? Relax and enjoy it, you fool!"

It's hard to relax in such conditions, pondered Lias as he looked up from the pond.

From this bench, there was a view of most of this city. The graceful yet overwhelming towers of the Royal Palace could be seen on the left-hand side.

Lias was not surprised to learn that there was a King here. The city itself was the size of the entire fiefdom of E-Rantel, and how many lands belonged to it was impossible to even guess. The teacher responded to the timid interest with a lengthy "no exact information on that yet," and changed the subject. If the meticulous and pedantic incarnation of death had no answer... Lias simply accepted things as they were.

On his right miles away from there the crowns of the largest trees Lias had ever seen. There, he'd heard, lived elves, ruled by a sorceress little less powerful than Master Marius himself. That was hard to believe, after all, Lias had seen only a fraction of the power of the ancient lich. But at this point, anything could be true... If you don't count Selene and her sense of humor.

The elves in general were a separate story. Here Lias had seen quite a few elves, which was unusual in itself. But the real shock came when he saw the guard elf. Selene, in her usual manner, made the situation clear.

Here the elves were not just un-slaves. They were on the same footing as humans, and the only one who saw the oddity was Lias himself.

They ran stores, preached, cleaned the streets, owned lavish restaurants, practiced art, and watched alongside people. There were even mixed couples, and their children were not considered exotic or renegade. It was as if there was no age-old hatred.

Then Lias vowed to himself not to be surprised by anything.

Another empty vow... So it was when it turned out that everyone I met knew Selena was a vampire, and they weren't bothered by it.

He vividly remembered how terrified he'd been to see the fangs and what a middle-aged, golden-eyed beauty she was. And they didn't give a damn. So she's a vampire, so she only grimaced in the sun, so what's the big deal.

Ugum.

He felt like a savage trapped in an advanced society.

+And determined to die rather than leave it, the thought ran through his head. A place without hatred, where everyone is like family. A place with more knowledge than the rest of the world. Where no one wishes another harm, and almost the God of Death himself stands guard. From the description, it's more like heaven. If you don't know what's beyond the city gates...

A cold voice came from behind.

"Master Lias?"

Lias turned around. Behind him stood a woman from the servants of this palace, called an inn. Her pleasing form was accentuated by a garment of unusual but easily recognizable local cut.

This was the only drawback of the wonderful city. Wherever Lias found himself, he was never once shown any friendliness. Cold politeness at best, as was the case now.

"Yes?" Lias jumped up fidgetily from the bench.

"Lady Rangeso ordered me to tell you that she has to leave for Necropolis with immediate urgency."

Lias swooned.

And now I'm going to be billed for my lodging. Even if it's for half a day, I can't pay for it in my life! What are you doing, you bastard, for what?!

"And h... How much do I o... Do I owe you?"

"I don't know what you mean, master," the maid said without emotion. "You have never borrowed money from me."

Well, yes, it's the kind of place where guests don't bother to think about money, the servants do that kind of trivia...

Lias was embarrassed as he chose his words.

"Well, I was here half a day. I ate, and drank something sweet. ... How much is it worth...?"

The girl answered in the same voice looking through him: "I don't know the full cost of what you tried. I can ask the steward if you are interested."

"You see, I'm here, as it were, by mistake," Lias decided not to pull the cat by the tail. "Everything here is too expensive for me, I can't afford it, you know? I'd like to know how much I owe for all this, so that, how would it be, to find the money and pay it off, pardon me for that..."

"I understand. You need not worry about it, Master Lias. This inn is maintained by the Treasury, and all expenses are borne by King Wilhelm. It is customary for an establishment of this caliber. And since you were brought here by a noble lady, it is no mistake that you are here."

"Is that how the King pays for everything?" Lias was astonished. "So I can eat and sleep here as much as I want, and His Majesty will pay for everything?"

"Exactly. Would you like some tea or other drinks?"

Lias smiled broadly at the sudden happiness. If the bills are paid by the King himself, he obviously won't care how much he's eaten and drunk. He'd brush it off to the Treasurer and forget it.

"I'd like some wine. Red, is the best you have. And some cheese. And some fruits."

Thank you, Your Majesty. I'll be like a prince for a day. I will pray to the Heroes for your health...

The girl bowed.

"I'll get it right now."

Lias sat back on the bench and stretched out blissfully, looking at the garden around him anew.

How much money does this king have that he can afford such a thing? Come to think of it, I haven't seen a poor man around here. And every guard wears a fortune. And there are so many guards here that you could raise an army from the guards alone... I wish I'd learned to read the stars, so I could have known where the country was...

The same servant girl emerged, barely audible, deftly holding a small folding table and a tray with an elegant bottle, a tall glass, and a saucer of appetizers. In a few moments, it was all assembled into a pleasing composition. The girl deftly unsealed the wax seal on the bottleneck and poured the dark scarlet liquid into the glass.

"Enjoy our hospitality, master. Let me know if you need anything. I'll be here."

Lias took a sip of wine and closed his eyes, dissolving into an ocean of flavor.

"I enjoy it from the bottom of my heart," Lias reported.

The wine hit his head softly at once. There was an amazing lightness in his body, a sense of coolness in his thoughts, and for some reason complete clarity. He took another sip and noticed that the girl had not gone anywhere but was still standing behind him with her head slightly bowed and her hands folded on her apron.

"Do you have a name?"

"Mariam."

"Can I ask you something?" Lias took another sip of wine and decided to take advantage of the situation. "You say to enjoy your hospitality, but I don't see any cordiality in your words. I can understand your dislike. I am a worthless beggar, brought here and put on your neck. You must be used to high-born guests, and here I am... That's perfectly understandable. But I'm treated that way everywhere. It's like I'm a thief who hasn't stolen anything yet. Why is that?"

The girl raised her head, looking ahead of her. She didn't answer right away.

"I wish I didn't have to answer that question, master. The answer might upset you."

"And I insist. May I insist?"

"You are a stranger. Your presence here is not approved by the Lords. You cannot be trusted, and you could turn enemy at any moment."

"There are so many people here, so many people, how will everyone know that I'm a stranger? Here... how do you, Mariam, know that I am not a local peasant or a poor man from the suburbs?"

The girl turned to him and ran her eyes blankly from head to toe.

"It's obvious. Any citizen will always know if is a friend or a stranger in front of them. I don't know how to explain it. It's just a feeling."

"Yeah... How long do you think I'd have to live here before I'd be considered one of my own?"

She thought for a moment.

"I don't know. I don't think time will change anything unless one of the Lords approves you."

"But, for example, the teacher... Master Marius, is there no way he could pass for a lord?"

"Master Marius is only a servant of the Lords. His word means a lot but he can't change the order of things."

"And the King? Can he?"

"King Wilhelm is also a servant of the Lords. He cannot change the fundamental law."

The wine gave courage and blurred boundaries.

"And the faceless gentleman, is he a lord? I've been in contact with him, and he sent me to learn magic from Master Marius, you know."

Again the girl did not answer at once, and her voice was more hostile than cold.

"You are talking about the Prophet. I ask you to be respectful when you mention him."

Also a fanatic. Kind of like the theocrats. Normal, as long as it doesn't involve their celestials.

"I didn't mean to say anything bad. I'm sorry."

A strange sound, like a battle horn, was heard in the distance. The maid stretched and squinted, staring off into the distance.

"What is that sound?" Lias asked.

"His Majesty is a call to arms. You had better not leave the hotel grounds, Master Lias. Forgive the inconvenience."

Lias tried to sober up. One time the town he studied in was under siege. He didn't like it very much. Three months of starvation, then street fighting, firefighting, and a lot of wounded who couldn't be saved.

On the other hand, it might have been a chance to draw attention to himself. He stood up from the bench, watching his balance.

"Where can I go to get a volunteer here? I know a thing or two about light magic!"

"Master Lias, you had better not leave the grounds of the inn," the maid said with pressure, blocking the way. "Lady Rangeso insisted. Please wait for her to return."

Lias slumped. The heroic fervor in him faded as quickly as it had appeared.

The rest of the evening he drank grudgingly on the "royal" wine. It didn't take long - his body, weakened by constant fear for his life, quickly gave in to the strong drink. Mariam readily poured a refill whenever the glass showed the bottom.

Lias, already poorly oriented in the alcoholic fog, tried to make her talk. But all his eloquence was shattered by polite indifference. Sometime later, as she was carrying him into the bedrooms he suddenly noticed that she was pretty as hell, and he didn't hesitate to let her know it.

"You know, Mari... Eek!... am, you're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life," he said, hanging on her shoulder. "There's nothing but beauties around here, but you... Eek... The prettiest of them all. Honestly... Ouch! Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

A hand, as if by chance, rested on the girl's chest, as if caught in a vise.

"I'm sorry, Master Lias. I was careless."

Lias collapsed onto the luxurious bed, kneading his numb wrist. Mariam knelt to remove his shoes. He looked up at the gesture, and almost dare try to grope her again but he caught the same cold look in his eyes, showing no remorse for the near-broken limb.

"Why are you so strong, eh," he noted regretfully, stretching out on the bed and studying the velvet canopy.

He put his wrist to his eyes and struggled to focus. The wrist promised to have the perfect bruise by morning. Mariam didn't answer. She deftly pulled off his shirt and pants and covered him with a soft, cool blanket.

"If you need anything ring this bell. I'll come right over."

"And if I needed warmth and cuddling, what would I do?" Lias grumbled resentfully, wrapping himself in a blanket.

Mariam ignored the statement, bowed, blew out the candle, and left the bedroom, closing the door delicately. Lias fell fast asleep.

During the night he was awakened by a foreign presence under the blanket. He was not fully awake but very quickly groped the chest.

"Mariam, you came after all... You're cold even... Eek!... to the touch."

There was nothing more he could say. The woman occupied his mouth with a kiss.

[message]

"Master Marius, let me speak."

"Selena? Speak."

"I obeyed your command and seduced a man. You demanded to be informed at once if anything important or unusual happened."

"How interesting. You are way ahead of schedule."

"Master, I..."

"Oh, don't be worrying in vain. The only bad thing here is that I missed something important that could affect the calculations so much. Now I really want to know what I missed. Did you take him by force?"

"No, you ordered not to hurt him under any circumstances."

"Then how did it happen?"

"When I answered your call to arms yesterday... An unsupervised boy got ugly drunk on wine and harassed the maid. I saw an opportunity and used it."

"Alcohol? That's all... Amazing. I'm pleased with you, Selena. Is there anything you want? You deserve a reward."

"I want to drink this stray dog."

"Out of the question. But I might consider letting you hunt outside of town and not restraining you for a while... When you get pregnant."

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Then you will cease to be an important part of my plans and lose my good graces."

"I understand, Master Marius. I will do my best to live up to your expectations."

"I'm glad you're getting the gist of it, Selena."


*Talik*

Talik sat in his temple office with his hands and head on the table. A warm ray of sunlight streaming through the stained-glass window gently tickled his face. A cold-like sensation with a bad hangover, though it did not let me relax but did not bother me so much. The temple was consistently applying a permanent effect that reduced the power of negative influences.

It's a good thing Kashchey didn't appreciate humor below the belt. There was a curse of diarrhea in the game too, and the effect, even mathematically there was just terrible I wouldn't sit still like that...

He lifted his head and focused his gaze on the pile of papers on the table. Beautiful sheets with monogrammed seals and gold edging contained the fruits of Wilhelm's labors during the time the "Prophet" had been absent. Talik had gone through them during the night while he was debriefing.

He had not expected such administrative acumen from an NPC. Wilhelm quickly and ingeniously resolved many situations and issues that Talik had never even considered. Logistics, the organization of hunting farms, ore and mineral exploration near the nearby mountains, property troubles (yes, that too appeared). And this is only a small part and precedents.

Wilhelm simply passed the routine work, such as consultations, private disputes, and minor organizational hassles, onto the undead. He went to Marius, discussed the idea, and now the roles of judges, warehouse administrators, and petty officials were filled by low-ranked lichs. Possessing infinite patience, and perfect memory, the attentive undead needed neither food nor rest and were ideally suited for the job.

[spoiler]I knew it. I knew the bureaucrats were hiding some secret, some skeleton in the closet.[/spoiler]

The townsfolk saw no problem with the presence of the undead. Talik, when he heard about the idea, feared trouble was brewing. Nothing of the sort - the undead fit into society like a piece of furniture in a large room. Useful in times of need and out of the way the rest of the time.

Like computers with AI-Bots. That's a great idea. And if there are any specific problems, they can be solved separately.

Talik stretched out his hand, took the first sheet of paper he could find, and held it up to his eyes. On the amber-colored paper was a map with lots of symbols. It showed the outlines of a valley that Talik had seen before on maps of Illadria. He read the beads of text that covered the space between the drawing and the map.

And the road is already paved through the entire canyon connecting this valley to the forests outside. And what shall I do with you, your majesty, hmm?

Talik put his head back on his hands and covered his head with this very sheet.

Dealing with High-Level NPCs quickly turned into real torture for him. They were in the most horrible throes of remorse. Talik had never imagined that anyone would be so heartbroken.

As ridiculous as it sounds, watching a big man cry... Illadria isn't far behind but at least she's a girl.

Of the three, Marius was the only one who perceived reality adequately. He lagged like an overheated computer but at least he answered substantially. Talik sent him back to Necropolis after the blitz interrogation.

And Illadria and Wilhelm to "prison". To the very unused rooms of the palace. According to the project, there were supposed to be additional bedrooms for characters with a fear of the sun and an arsenal. But in the end, it never came to them. The only Vampire in the guild was switched into Angel, and instead of the hassle with a lot of arsenals strained and donated to the expanded inventory for all the combat NPCs.

That's where Malikriss was shut down, and now two others.

And all three of them don't belong there at all. I can't imagine who to replace Wilhelm with. By the way, it's interesting that he was far more concerned about the elf's fate than one might think. Are they dating? There was not a word about that at all. It's personal, though, so it's probably best not to pry, Talik thought as he rummaged through the piles of papers on his desk.

Illadria has taken up ecology, and it's not so simple either. Griffins are great, but Warboss has got his hands on huge territories, and there is eighty percent of it - forests and swamps, fit for nothing. Even flying over that kind of deadwood would break your neck.

He had seen the plans for clearing the forests and detoxifying the swamps drawn up by the elfess. Who would do all this, coordinating spellcasters, rangers, and workers while she sat in isolation?

And sending them to "prison" was not his initiative. Both of them literally demanded to be punished for the "crime" they had committed. Talik himself saw nothing wrong with following instructions. It wasn't their fault he got such an intricate curse. They were simply doing what they had to do.

And he had to deal with the thorn in the form of the mentalist. Talik was not sure that Wilhelm's aggression had nothing to do with outside influences. The King had said that he was constantly haunted by anxiety, having bad dreams in which misfortunes were happening to members of the Guild.

I have to at least understand what kind of person she has become. Whether it's even possible to deal with her... If it really is her influence, remembering how easily she got into Draga's head. She's dangerous, to say the least. She's either a problem or a valuable asset, and I keep procrastinating to find out.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled as he thought.

I'm just like a Big Boss. Well, when looked at that way, I am the Big Boss, aren't I? It turns out to be so easy to get used to. Although let's not forget how I almost got killed.

He looked toward the window. The sun and the leaves of the fruit tree peeked out behind him. Everything literally breathed with tranquility, cleanliness, and comfort. The contrast with the environment of the trip to the "outside world" was stark. I just wanted to relax and do nothing, just wait for the curses to subside.

Yeah. To forget everything and just do nothing. Trying not to think about how much trouble I was in. Typical me.

Talik sighed and turned to Draga, who was silently present.

"Let's go check on the inmates."


On the way to Malikriss' cell, Talik thought intensely and intensely, stroking the protective amulet on his chest. He had prepared for his visit to the "prisoners" quite thoroughly, having prepared countermeasures in case things went badly. Protective amulets, disposable but powerful. Draga, in gear that gave her almost total immunity to mind attacks, had a few scrolls to counteract any negative effects. Just in case.

In the old world, that would have been enough to overpower any mentalist by a wide margin. In the new one, Talik wasn't sure.

Quite a lot depended on this meeting. Aside from the fact that the revived dark elven witch seemed to be quite confident in reading and suggesting thoughts, there was another point that Talik found quite important.

All of the characters that came to life took the story they were written about as a factual reality. They literally remembered these stories as part of their lives. Of course, you can't cram your entire life into a dozen pages of text, but the unknown force that brought the City to this world took care of that, too. When the NPSs began to analyze their life, little facts, amusing incidents, instructive events, and other little things that formed the memory of life emerged somehow by themselves. They did not contradict, but, on the contrary, fitted very harmoniously into the main line.

For example, Wilhelm remembered the names of his soldiers, their habits, and characters from the campaigns he had made up. He even remembered his first love, in great detail. Although of all this, only the fact that his beloved had once been brutally murdered by the tyrannical ruler of his country in his youth was written.

Not knowing the nature of this phenomenon, Talik was not sure he could fully trust this "memory". Who knows what an NPC with a fate is written in a fit of resentment would "remember". Take, for example, the witch of the dark elf nation, disappointed in the goddess of her people and betraying her home. A sea of blood, mountains of corpses for a dream that ended up not coming true anyway, through her own fault. Then she betrayed an apostle of her new faith by deception. Everything, as it should be in dark fantasy.

Who knows what kind of bugs are running around in such a person's head. By and large, it would have been wise to destroy her altogether and not take any chances. But Talik didn't want to do that, and the moral aspect didn't come first.

First, if Malikriss turns out to be as devoted to the Guild and him personally like all the other characters, she can be an exceptionally valuable ally. The ability to read and compel thought, in theory even to change a target's mindset, is not a talent that can simply be taken and buried just out of fear. Talik was already figuring out in his head what assignment to give her, to begin with.

Second, even if he can't find a common ground with her, it will be no less valuable. There will be a confirmed fact that not all guild members are unconditionally loyal to the player. Taking into account the "warm" welcome in Necropolis made no sense. The influence of an unknown enemy had played a role there. And now, it would be considered a pure experiment. If Malikriss turns out to be the enemy, it will mean that the character's history has a much greater influence on the motives and actions than he has seen so far.

Besides, he would finally have a critic. This was sorely missed.

If Katsuba hadn't ended up in the hospital, it would have been so much easier. Eh...

And third, even the preparation itself for this encounter made him think about things he would otherwise have avoided. Malikriss is a telepath with undetermined limits, a cunning and very ambitious woman. Just showing up and saying, "Hi, I don't want to kill you, let's be friends," is not the best way to start a relationship with someone like her. At least, a relationship beneficial not only to her.

He had to ask himself a few uncomfortable questions and answer them. And the most important of them was, what did he want from his new life in the first place?

The question was simple only on the surface. If he had decided only for himself, there would have been no problem at all. But whether he likes it or not, he is responsible for so many creatures who trust him unconditionally. Both for themselves and their actions.

With all these thoughts in mind, he descended into the uninhabited wing of the castle. Draga, in her slightly fluorescent white and gold armor, accompanied him steadily.

A set with a bonus to defense against Mind magic was a miracle to find. Talik, before the end of the game, sold everything that could have any value at all. But that mostly affected the treasury. He didn't "strip" the Royal Guard, it didn't make sense. Would not have made much money on it, and the guards in just panties (and bras, for that matter), did not fit with the image, which he did not want to spoil the final filming, but also very poor protection in case of a goodbye attack.

And among the rest of the equipment was this very questionable in terms of playability, but very nice set. Which turned out to be an extremely fortunate find in this situation.

Well and creates a very interesting image. If imagine that this is a professional cosplayer... Man, it really lifts my spirits. I'll be sure to elaborate tonight. Even if it sucks like last time, I should at least try it.

To avoid awkwardness, Talik forced himself to be distracted by the monotonous gray granite of the surroundings.

The architecture in the uninhabited wing was the same as the rest of the palace. Tall thin columns in the corridors, wide twisted staircases, arches, and halls, everything was the same, technically. In reality, however, it spoiled the mood with its dull basic coloring. When it became clear that no one would make a permanent dwelling here, this part of the palace was simply ignored. Why paint a picture that nobody is looking at? It's expensive and useless. Even the ankle-high pile rugs were monochrome gray.

It's also where the dust starts to accumulate, Talik noted, tracing a finger across the relief pattern of one of the columns. Makes sense, in principle, the wing is closed, and no routes for domestic personnel are prescribed here, either.

Finally, Talik and Draga stepped into a large, empty hall. The corridor ended there, and there were only a few doors at regular intervals leading out of the hall.

In theory, there should have been a fountain... Man, you've got to get it right, it's like a pebble in my shoe. In fact, the wing needs to be finished. But how?

The door to the chambers where Wilhelm and Illadria had been left to "sit" was closer, and Talik decided to go in first. The four-foot-tall, double-winged, austere door opened easily at the literal touch of a hand. Talik glanced around the vast and absolute room and saw the "inmates" at once.

I guess my timing is bad.

Wilhelm held the bewildered Illadria's thin palm in his hands and whispered something heatedly. She was obviously uncomfortable, but she didn't pull away. They noticed him too, and all three stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. Finally, Talik made up his mind and interrupted the distressing scene.

. . .

"I'll come back later," he said as he closed the door.

So they are dating. It's kind of enviable. That's what "out from under the nose" means, isn't it? Well, whoever had the time, ate it. It's my own fault.

Draga snorted arrogantly at the closing door. She was literally showing superiority and a kind of inner contentment, the nature of which Talik did not understand.

Well, at least she's not mad, and that's good... Well, Malikriss, I see that there's no way to avoid meeting you.

Before the next door, though, he lingered a bit. His inner resolve began to melt away, and Talik counted to ten as he closed his eyes. He couldn't lose his confidence and his clarity of thought.

The heavy-looking sashes came apart easily from the touch.

It was very bright inside, though there was no light source as such. The huge square room, just like the previous one, was just as dull gray. The tenants were supposed to paint, or at least just design the walls and furnishings to their liking. But as it was, there was nothing to catch the eye.

Everything is by default, all from a series of "we'll finish later", such lazy bastards. At least they could do it by the template, it's not so expensive. The impression is oppressive... Where, exactly...? Yeah.

In the far corner, there was the character he was looking for.

A gray-skinned girl in a shabby, simple turban and blindfold sat on her knees in the far corner. Her knees were drawn together, her back slightly bent, her head tilted, and her hands resting on her hips.

She is still there, as she was planted in that unfortunate year. Isn't it all numb in there?

Talik well remembered arguing with Kaschei at this place. The elderly nerd insisted on removing Malikriss to free up the resource, and Talik pedantically spelled out why it wasn't profitable and how many resources would be wasted because of the unprofitable conversion during the redesign.

Talik wanted to remove it himself, for personal reasons. Then the greed took over. The Mentalist had been created half on his dime. And then... The readjustment was delayed, delayed, and then switched to more interesting methods of warfare. Malikriss was left as the contents of a closet. Pity to throw it away, but no use for it.

There was an angry hiss through his teeth behind his shoulder. Talik turned around. Draga looked something like a dog that had seen a cat it hated long ago. She squinted her eyes and scowled a little, her grin showing through her pursed lips.

He put his hand on her shoulder.

"Relax."

Draga obediently bowed and stopped resembling a kettle about to explode. Talik knew, with her temper that it wouldn't last long. It was useless to explain to her that she had no real reason to hate Malikriss, he tried. But at least she kept her temper in check.

Talik walked to the back of the empty hall and stopped in front of Malikriss. She showed no sign of life and appeared to be an elaborate puppet. He noticed a loose strand in her hair and involuntarily fixed it.

The girl, in response to this movement, leaned into his hand like a sprout to the sun, raising her face and smiling.

"You came at last..."

Talik sighed, looked around, and realized belatedly that it would be stupid to look for a chair here. After a brief hesitation, thinking, +Well, who should I be embarrassed about?+ he sat down on the stone floor in front of her.

"I came. Maybe I should have done it sooner, but better late than never."

At the word "never," Malikriss flinched. Talik was silent, studying her.

Malikriss was very beautiful. You wouldn't expect otherwise from a character drawn by 4eJl. But there was something about her that no artist could lay down. Something elusive, appealing...

"Malikriss, I want you to stop."

The charm immediately went away, leaving just a very beautiful woman.

"I could expect nothing less from the omniscient Lord. Forgive my impertinence, I was only trying to lighten your mood..."

"You don't have to. In fact, don't ever do that again unless I ask you explicitly. Do we have a deal?"

"Your will is an immutable law," bowed the Drow.

Talik wasn't really sure she was trying to influence him. It was a "just in case" move, and it turned out to be quite successful.

"This is going to sound a little strange, but how do you feel here? Hunger, thirst, other natural needs? Especially the last couple of weeks."

"No, Your Holiness, these things do not make me very uncomfortable. The anguish of the soul is much greater. I would like the right to leave this place."

"That's what I came to talk to you about."

Talik sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

"Assuming that I... I'll let you out of here. What would you do?"

"I will do whatever you tell me to do," Malikriss bowed."

Talik sighed again.

"That's not an answer. If you were NP... Um... A puppet capable only of following orders, this conversation wouldn't be happening at all. But you're not a puppet. Not a puppet anymore, at least..."

He thought about it for a while and continued.

"Let's be frank. I want to understand what to do with you. And to do that, I need to understand what you are now. Who you see yourself as, now and in the future, and what you're going to strive for. Well, judging by the fact that you tried to influence me in the first place..."

Talik heard the rustle of metal behind him and a strangled growl. He turned and looked sternly at Drega, who was about to kill the witch. At his gaze, she backed away a little, and slid her sword back into its scabbard, though her eyes, fixed on the Drow, still glowed with hatred. He turned to Malikriss again and continued.

"...do you want something other than blindly following my orders? So, I would like a full and detailed answer to my question. How this conversation ends will depend on it."

Malikriss straightened her back. Her posture had changed, and now there was Malikriss, who matched her description. A strong, proud woman who did not know the words "half-measures" and "extremes".

"Marius told me that there is another world beyond the walls of the City. I want to carry your will into that world. To rise so high in it that my words on your behalf could be heard by everyone. I wished it in the past, and I stumbled... Now, I know the value of my faith, and I will destroy anyone who tries to contradict You."

Talik felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. He feared trouble, but still hoped for some sanity on the part of at least such a character.

"I hear you. Let me give you some clarity. This world... It's very vulnerable, even, rather, defenseless against our Guild. It's very easy to destroy, based on what I know of my... predecessors. And I don't want to destroy it. Change it, take some things away, make it better, from my point of view but not break it."

"And you did a great job of showing that you might not fit in with the idea. Wilhelm's obsessions are your job, right? Why? Although knowing your personality script, I can assume for the sake of discrediting him as an administrator. Over time he would start to mess up more and more, and I would replace him, isn't that the plan? Anyway, I don't really like what you're up to, on the one hand. On the other hand, your skills in this plan could be invaluable. If you use them only with my consent. And that's where the difficulties begin. I have no confidence in you or the strength of your word."

With each word, Malikriss looked more and more depressed. It was as if a heavy weight had been placed on her back.

"Kill me if you don't believe me... Kill me any time you want, any way you see fit. Give me any order, and I'll be happy to obey it. Just don't leave me here, please, give my existence some meaning!"

Her words were physically tangible hope and despair. And Talik realized that he could not sleep well if he left her here. Right now Marius's curses were keeping him awake, and then his conscience would add to them. Except the curses would go away but his conscience would not.

"All right. I'll believe you, and I really hope I don't have to regret it. Now, I need you to do something." He chewed his lips. "You know some spells designed to neutralize the enemy. Three of them you used against me that day. I want you to do them again. Each one of them, one by one."

"You say you don't believe me, and you demand to commit treason again. This is cruel!"

Tears appeared from under the blindfold.

"I swore... I..."

Talik, seeing the tears, was a little confused at first.

Oh, damn. Shit. I wasn't prepared for this at all, what am I supposed to do?

He quickly searched his memory and remembered a couple of cheesy movies. He didn't appreciate the romance genre himself but on a date, a guy's tastes didn't mean much.

Talik put his hand gently on Malikriss' shoulder. She twitched, clearly expecting the worst.

"I'm not asking you to do this just to mock you. It's really necessary. I'll explain later. For now, just do it, please."

"As... As you command..." Malikriss sobbed and raised her head.

Draga flowed smoothly behind her back, exposing her sword and placing the blade on the shoulder.

"I hope you understand," Talik said in an apologetic tone.

"Yes, Your Holiness. I... I understand."

She took off the tear-wet blindfold in a smooth motion. Actually, the blindfold was part of the character's image, and it was supposed to be impossible to remove. But Talik had begun to get used to that sort of thing long ago.

Under the blindfold were large, piercingly beautiful almond-shaped eyes. Transparent, bottomless, like space. They were like a huge height beneath, terrifying and distracting.

It looked something like the space from the space saga he was playing when he was looking for a replacement for Yggdrassil. Star Explorers. Beautiful interstellar battles, complex tactical formations, and political passions. One of the fun features of the game was that the player could fully integrate into his ship through implants. The perception was quite different from what one gets used to in a lifetime. 4eji, a great expert in the field of recreational chemistry, compared it to the most vivid adventures from some particularly poisonous drugs.

Talik smiled as he recalled his most vivid moments. When he had scrambled the enemy strike fleet to maneuver within range of the star's detonation. Triggering an explosion and dying himself, of course, but that was the plan. So, while listening to curses in his address and receiving "letters of happiness", he had already respawned on the maser and led a massive nuclear bombardment of the industrial and residential colonies of the aggressor. Somewhere there is even a record of it.

Pity, serious battles were very rare there. Losses in battles were very expensive for pampered balance lovers. And without them, the game got boring very quickly. Unlike Yggdrassil, in which this sort of thing, albeit not as pathos-filled, happened almost every day. At the time, at least.

The slight haunting that had made the memories so vivid had dissipated. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the visibly pale Drow.

"What's the matter with you?"

"N... Nothing," she lowered her head. "Your mind is... Very strong, it is difficult for me to carry out... Your order. It was [Capture of Memory]. Shall I continue?"

"Yes."

Malikriss didn't change her posture, but Talik felt a rush of extreme fatigue. His thoughts became confused, and he felt dizzy and nauseous. He brushed it off.

"That's not it. Give me the next one."

And what came next was exactly what he had hoped for. Apathy, indifference, and mild irritation at having to be distracted by something came over him in a powerful wave. The panic attack from the memories of recent events drowned in the murky water of indifference to everything.

The stupor that had almost completely enveloped him dissipated almost immediately - the amulet had worked, small, prickly shards of it scattered under his cassock.

He looked up.

"That's enough. This is it."

"[Shackles of the mind]?" Malikriss asked cautiously, looking at him with fear in her eyes. "It is... One of those three spells."

That time it was exactly the same but there was a side effect. What was the effect, how did it work, and how the hell did they combine it? Did they figure out how magic works and create something based on what they had, or did they invent it themselves? Who else can do that, what are the limitations, the costs? Oh, guys, there's so much I want to ask you.

"Yes, I can see that. Okay. The main thing I wanted, I got."

"А..." hesitantly, even timidly, Malikriss began and fell silent when Draga pressed the blade a little harder against her neck.

"And you... Draga, put the sword away, please. And you're coming with us now. There's a man who could help me in some ways but he has a nasty temper. I want to see if you can change some of his outlook on life."

He stood up and gave her a hand. Malikriss hesitantly leaned on it, standing up. She bowed, but he could see the cold, sarcastic look in her eyes as she looked at Draga. And the way the demoness' lip twitched predatorily.

That's when both are good, isn't it?

And also, you two. I know you're not in a good relationship, but keep it under control. Draga, don't pick on her for no reason. And don't make it about you, Malikriss. Otherwise, you'll both be here resting, and I won't care who started it. Deal?


*Inmates*

The prison was not much like what is usually called by that word. Wilhelm knew what a real prison should look like. It wasn't. No cages, no straw on the floor, no guards, nothing. Just a huge gray room, as if cut off from the rest of the world.

He had never been in this wing of the castle before the end of the world. It never even occurred to him to go to the place where the symbol of betrayal lay for eternity. After that, he had only gone in a couple of times and had never opened the door to where he thought the cells were. And he went in furtively - everything here literally screamed that there was nothing for him to do here. This place was like the beginning of madness, where reality mixed with the dream. Everything around here looked like what it was supposed to be - and it wasn't.

He realized that he was simply afraid to be here, in the colorless, an eerily quiet parody of the rest of the palace. This fear had no face; it was impossible to fight it. It seemed to him that if he stayed here long enough, it would vanish between reality and dream, disappear as if it had never existed. There was something of a child's horror story in that, but who better than one of the Older Vassals to know that Lords could be far more mysterious and dangerous than any nightmare.

William had long been the ruler of the place but he was never really the master. Even for him, there were prohibitions. He was well aware of that, and it hurt him but he had learned to hide that feeling inside - and now he understood the meaning of those prohibitions. Though the crown was light, it had been given by beings above the gods, and he, a former rebel, could not turn his nose up at it. The Lords had not given him absolute power but the one he had by their will was far stronger than any other one imaginable.

Until recently.

Everything he had, he had blown away with his own hands. The faith, honor, power, and purpose that had led him into the future vanished like steam. His life always reminded him of a castle. A castle that had gone through bad times but which had rested on an absolutely solid foundation since he had met the Prophet.

It didn't take much for me to turn it into thin ice...

There was no perception of the passage of time here. He could not tell how much time had passed since the door closed behind the Prophet who had personally brought him here. Maybe a minute, maybe a year. Wilhelm was sure he would have lost his mind if he had been here alone.

But Illadria was here, too. And she, so alive, so real, so out of place in this impersonal space, was the beacon that kept his consciousness afloat. Without her, he would have sunk long ago into the bottomless abyss of guilt, regret, and the meaninglessness of his existence.

And talking to her was like moving time forward, keeping it from freezing up.

She did not blame him for what happened. It was he who deprived her of her choice when she hesitated to act. And yet Wilhelm did not hear any reproach from her. They just talked. Not as they did on the palace terrace or in her parks - there was trust and common cause then but there was no such sincerity. They both opened to each other only that part of their souls that a comrade-in-arms is allowed to see. Now it was different.

And until some time they tried not to touch the subject of their future. Wilhelm did not want to think about it, and he was glad that Illadria did not bring it up either. They simply shared their experiences, impressions, aspirations, and dreams. And he discovered something.

The passivity, the pliability, and the certain naivety that he had assumed to be merely a weakness of character proved to be signs of youth. She was considerably older than Wilhelm, and yet she was an elf. This explained so many things, and Wilhelm was now a little ashamed of the way he had treated her before.

As he realized, 70-80 years for an elf is the same as 15-17 years for a human. He just expected too much from her. She could seem like a mature, confident woman but she really wasn't.

They sat side by side just leaning with their backs against one of the walls, and tried not to look at the door. The silence after the last words was already pressing on their souls, and Illadria finally broached the subject they had been avoiding.

"Do you think we'll be deleted? After what we did..."

"I don't think so," Wilhelm answered, putting his arm around her shoulder.

"Why?" The elf-woman looked at him cautiously.

Wilhelm wasn't really sure what he was saying. But for some reason, he wanted to reassure her not upset her.

"Because someone has already committed such a crime. You know who I mean."

"Malikriss? I've always hated her so much, and now I'm in the same position... Honestly, I'd rather die than have a fate like hers."

"Stop it. Life, no matter how awful it is, always gives you a chance. Even to someone like... To people like us."

"I'm not sure I want that kind of life, Wilhelm. It's like my soul has been taken out of me, and I'm left with an empty shell... How do you have the strength not to give up? After... And you made such plans, and all at once everything fell apart."

He squeezed her shoulder a little tighter.

"I am what I was born to be. I want to carry the law and order of our Creators and Rulers. And even though it sounds ridiculous now, I will wait for the chance to get things back on track."

Illadria smiled sadly and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Listening to you, I think it might work out. But I'm not going to be the Prophet's wife now for sure.".

Wilhelm didn't answer right away.

"Personally, I'm not upset about it."

"What?" Illadria pulled away in surprise. "I thought you were ready to marry me, even by force, if you had to? For power, for influence, for an heir?"

"Yes, that's true. But also for... For the sake of... Not to think that you could have been there for me. Not to dream of the impossible."

Illadria pulled away from him and hugged her knees.

"Have you thought about asking what I want?"

"I didn't. It didn't seem important to me. I'm sorry."

"Does it matter now?"

"It's important now. And it will continue to be important."

Illadria sighed.

"I love Him as God, as the embodiment of Power, of Wisdom. I... I'm not sure I could be happy as a woman. And this marriage that you have planned would be a great honor for me, and joy but not a family. We are not, and never will be equal to Him, you know? It seemed to me that... Nevermind."

"Hey," Wilhelm took her by the arm, turning her toward him. "I told you. It's important now. Look at me."

"Get off."

"No way. I want to hear it."

"I'll think about it."

"Damn you, woman, I'm not some kid you can mess with!"

"Yes? Well, not some kid who's about three times my age. I thought something more sincere and real might have worked out with you if you hadn't been a ram who wiped his feet on my attempts to show it!"

William embraced her palm with both of his own.

"Yes, I was a ram. I'll try not to be one from now on. Don't be angry."

"It is too late, Wilhelm. We have betrayed our Lord, so it is foolish to expect to be allowed to be happy..."

"I used to say that life always gives us a chance."

He was going to convince her, and he saw that she would argue with him. It gave some hope for the best and allowed them to forget about the position they were in, if only for a little while.

Arguing, persuading, and getting one's way was something he considered himself a master at, and with good reason. He inhaled to begin, and then the door opened and a sense of higher presence washed over him. The same one that wasn't there in Necropolis that made him lose his mind.

Prophet was standing on the doorstep. Of course, he immediately saw what was going on. Wilhelm froze, feeling Illadria's hand clench convulsively.

But no thunder or lightning struck them. Prophet with a slight raise of his eyebrow simply said:

"I'll be back later."

And went out closing the door.

"What will happen to us now?" Illadria asked with fear in her voice.

"I don't know," Wilhelm answered, hugging her tightly. "But we have been given time. Let's not waste it with doubts, regrets, and fear."


*Lias and Marius*

In the spacious tomb faintly lit by a steady yellowish light, a duel was going on. A skeleton in massive armor with a saber and a shield attacked a gaunt man in a simple monk's cassock with a staff.

The human being looked about twenty years old, no more, and was almost completely gray-haired.

At first, it might have seemed that he had no chance of surviving. But the first impression was quickly dispelled. The man simply saved his strength moved very sparingly and retreated buying the moment. And that moment came.

Lias shifted his weight from foot to foot and poked his opponent with his staff. Right in the chest, in the center of his gravity and immediately rebounded a step taking the staff aside. The heavy dull saber pierced the air where it had just been a few moments too late.

Another half-step and the heavy shaft of the staff collapsed on the steel shoulder pad of the armored skeleton. There was a crackling sound through the muffled clang of metal. The undead immediately tried to strike Lias with the saber again but the hand failed the dead man the blow was awkward and slow. Lias, building on his success, turned his staff with a thud, knocking the saber aside, and the weapon flew away with a clang.

The dead warrior, unarmed, hesitated for a moment, and Lias immediately took advantage of the pause. He still couldn't summon the Light Force instantly, and he needed some time to concentrate. He tried to buy that bit of time by knocking his opponent off-balance and crippling him.

His Mentor, a rational, ruthless bastard, thought the teaching methods Lias was accustomed to were useless and ineffective.

I see no reason to spend years on something you can master in days, said the mad god of Death. In your case, the pursuit of perfection is a far weaker incentive to learn than the desire to survive

As unfortunate as it was, master Marius was, as usual, completely right. Lias couldn't tell if the teacher really cared whether his student survived or not. But he did know that no pity or sympathy was to be expected from this monster.

Lias's palm wrapped in a golden glow touched the skeleton's breastplate. The light immediately soaked into the metal, only to sparkle a moment later inside the armor.

The armor-clad skeleton twitched and crumbled to the marble floor. Lias exhaled heavily, bent over with fatigue.

From the shadows between the columns, the master appeared smoothly. The blue lights in his empty eye sockets glowed dimmer than usual from beneath his hood.

"Master, give me a few more minutes," Lias pleaded.

"Are you tired?" Marius' voice rustled indifferently.

"Really. Can I at least catch my breath?"

"No."

The parts of the defeated skeleton came together, and the bone warrior stood again in front of the groaning Lias.

"Taking breaks increases the effectiveness of physical exercise. We have a different goal."

A skeleton in armor swung his saber, almost reaching the gray-haired man. He only parried the blow with his staff at the last moment.

"The goal of what is happening is to develop your magical powers to a level where they can be recognized as existing."

"You don't have to try to kill me for that!"

"It works better with you than any other technique, and I've already explained why," Archlich said nonchalantly. "So you're wrong."

Lias, batting away another blow with his staff, put his hand in an unfortunate position. The dead man's saber slid across the girl and sliced the boy's fingers clean off. Lias jerked his hand back with a scream, dropping the staff and recoiling. The last of it saved his life. A new slash of the sword did not split his head open but cut his cheek.

It felt like boiling water had been splashed on his face. Tears spurted almost as hard as blood.

Lias could not keep his feet and collapsed on his back. Lying curled up on the cold marble floor, clutching his mangled hand with his healthy one. He watched, mesmerized as the armored dead man took a step and raised his weapon.

Lias shrugged off the pain almost immediately, so the wounds didn't really interfere with his thinking. He noted in passing the fulfillment of a childhood dream. Listening to stories about how heroes of myths and stories overcame pain, he too wanted such willpower as they had.

Now he himself is able to detach himself from the pain. Almost ignore it. Not right away, not for long, and only when he was sober, but still.

Indeed. What is a sword stroke for someone who has been punished for negligence by the God of Death?

Lying on the floor bleeding he knew that if he did nothing he would be killed. The teacher would not interfere; he obviously believed that Lias could handle it. And since the Master is never wrong, there must be a way out.

What could he do in this situation? The same as last time but faster and better.

Lias detached himself from everything around him recalling the sensation of warmth in his chest. With the edge of his consciousness, he noted and suppressed the fear of failure and death. The warmth directed by an effort of will flowed reluctantly through his body according to a memorized pattern.

Lias knew quite a lot of ways to control his inner power. His master didn't just mock his apprentice, he really taught. He answered any questions in great detail, explained them from several points of view, helped him make diagrams and sequences, and selected literature. The latter was extremely difficult to understand it was very poor in detail, containing mostly general principles. And without his master's help, Lias would not have advanced even a hundredth of what he now knew.

Here are just the practical methods of " reinforcement of the material "...

No, it's too slow, I won't have time. How about this? It might not work but if I don't try, I'm guaranteed to die.

The saber collapsed on the lying body and Lias put his open palm out to meet it. The blade just a few inches from his hand struck an invisible barrier. The air shimmered faintly revealing the thinnest dome that covered the boy.

The skeleton swung around again and chopped at the protective dome. Not in vain as it was barely visible, it almost vanished into thin air. But Lias was finally able to concentrate.

A golden beam of light came flying out of the boy's hands changing shape randomly and slammed into the dead warrior. The skeleton instantly burst like a torch and crumbled into ash, leaving only its armor and weapons behind.

At the same time monstrous, irresistible fatigue came over Lias himself. He passed out before he could even close his eyes.

From the shadows of the pillars, Marius hovered leisurely toward the body lying by the pile of ash. He lifted his palm lazily, and a ghostly haze [stasis] wrapped around Lias's body. Then with another wave of his palm, the lich sent a wriggling ball of darkness into the skeletal remains. The pile of ash mixed with the details of the armor didn't react.

"Hmm," Archlich said with interest.

A new motion of the bone palm and the ash rose into the air in a small moving cloud. The cloud briefly took on the shape of a human bone but it remained shaky and indistinct.

"Well, yes, it makes sense," Marius tapped his finger on his chin, "some of the materials were lost in the flames."

Archlich let go of his telekinetic grip, and the ash crumbled to the floor.

"[recoil]," Marius muttered.

The remains of the burned-out skeleton seemed to be touched by the wind, lifting the ashes back into the air. A second later the bone warrior was lying on the floor, unharmed. Marius sent another blast of darkness at him but there was no reaction.

"Even so?" The archlich was surprised. "Curious... Selena."

A female vampire stepped out of the shadows and knelt down.

"Take Lias to the city and deliver him to the nearest temple to be restored. Then have this bone taken to the laboratory. Go."

"I obey, Master."

Marius stopped paying attention to her. He was... Encouraged. This impromptu Lias was not what Marius had expected but something far more significant.

Irreversible destruction. I had no idea that such an effect could exist.

Marius quickly replayed in his mind all the books he had used to teach the boy. At first glance, they contained nothing of the sort. Even assuming it was possible to assemble a spell as a mosaic from different pieces of existing ones, a spell with such an effect could not be obtained.

So he didn't just use it, he changed something. Does that mean he understood the theory of magic? Unlikely, more likely an accident again. One way or another, it seems that I have fulfilled my Lord's orders to find the talent in him. Now we must find out if it is a talent for surprise under pressure or talent for constructing spells.

Marius thought both options were equally possible. The second one would have suited him much better. In this case, even the effect of the spell, the meaning of which could get strategic. He still could not derive a fundamental theory explaining the mechanisms of the things he was accustomed to. Of course, he was not standing still and many dependencies conditions and sequences were already known to him - albeit only as theories and hypotheses. Lias's training had greatly contributed to this - the boy, though blatantly stupid, from Marius's point of view, had mastered the basics of abstract thinking and could explain what he was doing and how he was doing it.

Yet Marius was aware that he was only a user, not a designer. He strove to change that - and Lias once again showed him a piece of the road to what he wanted.


*Akuro*

Akuro, for the first time in his eventful life, wanted to die.

In the pit where his body lay in a puddle of his own filth, he could not even move to step aside. Everything below his shoulder blades felt as if through a thick layer of cloth, and that was a boon, judging by the way he could feel his hands.

The damned orc whose fanged face was constantly before his eyes ruined everything the slave-trader believed in. He simply broke Akuro, literally. And there was nothing he could do about it. The difference in strength, reflexes, and speed of reaction was as if Akuro were an elven teenager in the hands of an experienced Holy Scripture fighter.

After the battle in which he killed the adult orc, Akuro was sure that he could defeat any of them. Or defeat them - but at such a cost that the victor, if he survived his triumph, would be maimed for life. He thought he understood how they fought, how to kill them.

The orc showed him how wrong that thinking was.

Up to that point, Akuro thought it was impossible to snatch a weapon from the hands of an experienced fighter. That it was a myth from fairy tales for those who had no idea what real combat was like. Now he knew what it was like to have his sword hand caught in a ruthless pincer that turned bones into crushed mincemeat in a single motion.

He fought back as hard as he could and it only amused his opponent. Again, like that time in the forest when for the first time he felt himself in the place of the victims of his game with the sword. The crowning moment of this humiliation was when the orc urinated on the body, broken beyond recognition.

Know your place, meat, said the orc.

The world was no longer the world Akuro was used to. One in which he meant something. And in this new place, in which the monsters were so much stronger than humans he simply saw no place for himself. Even if he did not die here, even if he were cured again by the miraculous salty abomination he would always remember the heights that man could never reach.

And so he wanted it to be over for him.

Through the rumbling and whistling in his ears came words he couldn't understand. Then again. He wanted to send the voices back to the demons but all he heard was a faint croak.

Suddenly a torrent of life-giving power washed over his body. It seemed to wash over every muscle, every bone, carrying away the muddy dirt of pain, fatigue, and numbness. Breathing was suddenly as easy as before - and even the stench of filth in the air seemed clean and life-affirming. He moved his leg, then his arm - the body was perfectly docile.

So they won't let me die yet. All right, bitches. We'll see about that.

Akuro sat up with his hand on the ground and opened his eyes.

Opposite him, just beyond the edge of the puddle, were four men. Another orc and Akuro had never been able to tell them apart. A woman of striking beauty he'd seen once before. She wore striking armor in white and gold colors, and though Akuro thought a woman had no right to wear armor he involuntarily stared. There was another woman, a dark-skinned woman in a simple turban and a blindfold. She, too, was very pretty, reminiscent in some way of the slave women he had recently captured. There was something strange about her he did not immediately understand what but then he noticed. Her ears. Too small for an elf, almost the size of a human.

Akuro involuntarily wondered how much it might be worth. Was it some unknown breed, or the work of a skilled surgeon? The ears looked so cute, he wished he'd thought of cutting them off sooner.

And there was that young man with the unremembered face.

Akuro grinned crookedly, trying to shake the dried clay and shit off his hand.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, noble sir?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I would be happy to answer any questions."

In fact, more than anything in the world, Akuro would be glad to stab the bastard. Slowly, thoughtfully. It was his fault that Akuro's life was derailed

The faceless man turned to the dark-skinned slave girl.

"What do you think, Malikriss? What is he thinking about?"

"He dreams of slowly torturing you to death, Your Holiness," she replied with a deep bow.

A wave of panic rose in Akuro's soul and immediately subsided.

This scum can read minds. One might assume she reads by her facial expression but she's wearing a blindfold. Though who knows what kind of magical objects there might be. I don't care. Let her read, what can they do to me that they haven't already done.

"Not what I was hoping for, but he's got a point. Okay. It's even easier that way."

He held his hand out to the side, and the orc put Akuro's sword into it. His pride and greatest treasure. It took a great effort for Akuro not to gnash his teeth in anger. The faceless man expertly weighed the blade, removed it from its sheath, and examined the blade.

"Where did you get this?"

"A war trophy," Akuro muttered, squinting at the dark-skinned slave girl. "I took it from an adventurer's corpse years ago."

"Did you kill him? Why?"

"Because he came to take away what did not belong to him."

"Yes? And what was that? As far as I have been able to figure out adventurers don't do robberies."

"He wanted to take women from the party to sell. That is robbery."

"That's how. I get it. I have a question, and I've asked this question to another person before, and I haven't gotten a coherent answer. Tell me, how is it that some people can own other people? By what right? By right of force, or by some other right? I really can't understand it."

"Half-humans and heretics are obliged to atone for the sin of their existence by serving the descendants of the Heroes. This is the supreme law that comes from the will of the Gods. I, like any Theocrat, in my holy right to own whoever I wish."

"Yeah," the faceless man rubbed the bridge of his nose. " Well, let's get back to the sword. As I understand it, you're considered a talented swordsman. Tell me, did you become one after you took possession of that sword?"

It was a sucker punch. It really was, though Akuro tried not to bring it up. His talent for swordsmanship had manifested itself a couple of months after he'd taken possession of that sword. After his first serious skirmish on the border with the elves.

"Yes," Akuro finally squeezed out.

"And that adventurer you took it from. Was he a good fighter, in your opinion?"

"Excellent," Akuro said confidently.

This adventurer was barely defeated by the entire security team. Half of the group was slaughtered on the spot, and half of those that remained died of their wounds. Akuro wasn't sure that even now he could easily defeat that guy one-on-one.

The faceless man smiled incomprehensibly.

"Good. Very, very good. Now one more thing. You've progressed very well in... Skills, while you've been here. You killed one orc, but that was after you... Man, it's hard to find the words. After you moved on to the next level or something?"

"That's right, noble sir."

"Why these questions, noble lord? Or can't your slave girl get everything you want to know out of my head?"

Faceless nodded.

"She can. But there's a subtlety here. You have a lot of years of life in your head, and it will take much longer to find among them what I need than to just ask. All right," he turned to the slave girl. "So, Malikriss? Can you do what we talked about?"

"Yes, Your Holiness," she bowed deeply.

Akuro had a vague sense that she was scared out of her wits about the faceless man.

Does reads his thoughts, too? What does she see there? Although, knowing some nobles, one can guess.

Meanwhile, the slave girl walked toward him with an easy, graceful step, not even staining her slender legs.

"Well, animal, do me a favor, don't try to resist."

"You!" Akuro instantly burst out and tried to punch her in the face.

He was willing to endure any pain but not the humiliation of a half-man, much less a woman. Akuro had already imagined pounding her beautiful face into a bloody mess when the order came:

"Sit."

The slave's voice, actually very beautiful low with a slight huskiness whipped his consciousness with such force that his body became paralyzed. Without realizing what he was doing he obeyed sitting on his knees in front of her.

"Ignorance, stupidity, impudence all in one. You are beautiful in your ugliness, human. Why do you think you have the right to act as if the world belongs to the likes of you?"

Because I am a human being and you are dirt who is not worthy to be anything but an amusement toy.

Because I am human I am a descendant of the gods who created this world for human beings.

Because only humans fought back against any evil that sought to destroy the world while those like you lay down under it in the hope of elevating themselves.

Because...

He wasn't going to answer her. Thoughts, feelings, and memories arose on their own, fueling anger and stubbornness. And it wasn't immediately apparent to Akuro that something was going on. Every ideal engraved in his soul that he had followed all his life was strangely eroding. It was no longer inspiring such firm confidence, was becoming somehow false, silly. And from underneath what had become extraneous false truths other truths began to emerge. Real ones.

Akuro realized with cold clarity and animal terror that he was being broken. Without sermons, without torture tools. He was being CHANGED. They were making him a puppet, taking away what he valued most - his pride and his right to be human. His soul.

Hate and helplessness ripped a long cry from his chest. He could barely hear it himself, mesmerized by the flood of new knowledge rushing into his memory. And soon it was over.

"You can get up," Malikriss said.

"As you say, Mistress," Akuro nodded and stood up.

He was ashamed and a little afraid of his past judgments about her. Of course, without knowing what was what, it was really easy to mistake her for a slave. But now, knowing how cruel, vindictive, and powerful she was, he seriously feared for his fate.

In fact, anyone here could have swatted him up like a fly without even noticing. But the rest of them couldn't read him as a dark witch. So he took the first step toward trying to keep himself safe. Kneeled before the only one who could protect him.

"Your Holiness, I beg your forgiveness for my past behavior. How can I atone for my rudeness?"

"Never mind," Prophet brushed off. "Malikriss, how long would you say the effects last?"

"He's going to stay that way forever. It's a different person, though in many ways similar, and with the same memory, just as you wish."

"Okay. But in the meantime, check it every day. If there are any side effects or if he does start to change back, let me know right away."

"As you command," she bowed deeply.

Prophet held out his hand, and Warboss held up two long, straight swords in suede sheaths. For all the seeming simplicity of the weapons, Akuro's gaze was permanently fixed on them. He could tell with certainty that the quality and finesse of these poorly ornamented swords were head and shoulders above the one he had.

Prophet held out swords to Akuro.

"These are paired swords to transition to the next class. Try fighting with them now. And keep in mind, if you kill anyone else here, you'll really regret it."

"I understand, Your Holiness," Akuro bowed, and reached for his swords but stopped.

"What's the matter?" Prophet wondered.

Akuro hid his face in a bow.

"My hands are dirty and filthy, Your Holiness. I do not want to defile a noble weapon by taking it like this."

Prophet smiled.

"I understand. Warboss, can you give him a tent with all the supplies he needs?"

"We will," murmured the orc unhappily.

Prophet frowned.

"Are you unhappy about something?"

"I don't like it, Prophet. I don't understand it. First, this man was a prisoner, then he killed one of ours, and now he wants a tent?"

"What's the problem?"

"If he will live among us, let him live like us. He'll get his own hides and make his own tent. He will raise the household by himself."

"Fair enough. So be it."

Prophet and the women departed. Only Akuro and the incarnation of destruction remained in the pit.

Warboss looked at Akuro and muttered:

"What the fuck are you sitting around for? Don't you have anything to do? I'll find it. Move your ass, BOYZ."

Akuro would have been glad to tell him to go to hell, and he would have done so before. But now, he knew for sure, it only made sense to contradict the Chief if he was tired of living. Climbing out of the pit on the same ladder, he glanced at the part of the camp that was visible.

Even without the prism of racial hatred, he didn't like what he saw. He didn't want to live here, among the crude, inherently primitive creatures. Of course, the choice between the camp and the pit was obviously in favor of the former. But he certainly wasn't going to live here forever, among the constant noise, the stench, the clamor.

He was poked roughly in the back. He turned around - one of the orcs was towering over him.

"Hey, you stink. Go wash."

"Yeah. Where's the water?"

"There's a lake over there," the orc poked his beefy finger somewhere in the direction.

Akuro went where the orc had pointed. As he maneuvered between the tents, fighting off the pesky children, he repeated like a mantra: "It's not forever. It's not forever."