Chapter 17 (Patreon)

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My initial fears, the more I thought about them, the less real they seemed. At first, it had seemed to me that a deadly torrent of Vice, a concentration of fleur infected with the Lust Aspect, had swept over the whole of Eternity, leaving only a pitiful percentage of the mortals who had managed to protect their souls alive. But it only seemed that way, to my relief.

It's not that the Devils couldn't pull this off. After the level they've already demonstrated, a strategic charm attack that kills the entire population of Eternal doesn't seem unrealistic. No harder than dragging a city into Hell, for that matter. No, the reason my fears are unfounded is trivially no reason for the devils to commit such an act. The main value of any raid on Reality for the Devils has always been, are, and forever will be only souls. And it is desirable to capture these souls relatively intact and unaffected, to then play with them, stretching their corruption for years, decades, and centuries. Rapid destruction and dissolution of these souls in the energy flows of Hell, of course, will also be very pleasant but unprofitable. And I'm not talking about the risk that such many freshly digested souls, who have met their end at once, with a probability approaching absolute, will tear the devils' mouths open. Simply put, they'll burst from overeating. Devils are not Shadows with their absolute insatiability and not Madmen who can defile an almost unlimited number of victims if they are not forced to retreat.

Fleur killed only those people who were too close to the rituals, and not intentionally. To use an analogy, these unlucky mortals were like mosquitoes burning from the heat of the lamps. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. The main background of the technique created by the Devils, of course, affected all living and animated inhabitants of the Eternal, but it was not too strong even for ordinary people. True, this is while the city has only just begun to drag down into the very Hell. We are no longer in Reality, but we are still far from Hell, no matter how much the creators of the ritual would like it otherwise. The further you go, the deeper the asshole, the stronger the fleur of vile energy, and the harder to escape from the trap or to stop the Eternal from falling into the shithole.

Now that the interference with clairvoyance had diminished, if not disappeared, and the mechanisms of the damned shroud had been exposed, I could make at least some assumptions based on something more tangible than a barely perceptible intuition. For example, if I may say so, the shroud was indeed some kind of prohibitively complex analog of embroidery, as strange as that might sound. The only difference was that instead of threads, there were connections-events, as well as any other information that could put the devils on the trail. I mean, quite literally. The right hunch could be thought of, arrived at only once. And then you were distracted by the effects of the closed field based on direct control of reality and causality, and the thought simply floated away, slipped away, becoming another thread in the shroud.

The highest class of combination of clairvoyance and brainwashing in the most unpleasant manifestation. And all this was seasoned with sacrificial practices of exactly the same, highest order. If the threads were chains of events and conclusions, the basis of the shroud was the souls - their suffering, the most beautiful agony possible, and the uninterrupted ecstasy of the monstrous orgy into which these souls were immersed. It was their whispering that conducted the element of influence on the minds of the seers, letting the threads weave themselves into the shroud while forbidding them to catch those threads by the end.

We had been fucked in the brain for months, including the beautiful me, who fancied myself a second Vanga, only with a dick, and we hadn't noticed anything. I was very offended, in fact, and the fact that the others, much more ready for such tricks of service, also did not notice anything, did not comfort me at all. Because I'd gotten so used to my resilience to everything-anything-possible that such a dumb fiasco drove my self-esteem into about the same place and substance we were now sinking into. Yes, I was able to snag the wrongness, to catch the presence of something rotten and sweet. But I was never able to decipher what I received. And almost, bitch, never counted as an argument!

Anyway, such thoughts-revelations, which nobody hid from me and other interested people, probably out of a desire to show off, were only one of the streams of information that I raked up. Of course, I am interested in the way I was fucked, but it is much more interesting to find a way to escape from the full-fledged pegging by not cute devils. The way, alas, is not being found, though I try.

Running to the edge of the city is not only useless but also harmful. The closer you get to the edge of the barrier, the closer you get to Hell. The most stable areas of space, from where there is at least some chance to jump up, even if it is ghostly, are located right in the center of the city. This selectivity is the result of many factors, including both the actions of the Devils and the influence of the capital's defense systems. Realizing that if the basis of the ritual was located in the center, it would be much more likely to be thwarted, the creatures did not even try to increase the impact there.

In a different situation, such naivety would be fatal. Who would leave a chance for the entire elite of the city, region, and even the empire, to respond to the ritual configuration? Except after all those multiple layers of interference, as well as after disabling almost the entire network of spells that shelters the city.... personally, I don't see a way to save everyone quickly and decisively. Not for myself, not for the Emperor and his retinue, not to mention that no one will allow a peaceful rescue. Right now, elite groups of perverts are conducting all sorts of diversions, while numerous teleportation beams have been falling doom the purple-pink skies like cloths of bleeding flesh, manifesting more and more reinforcements. And that's not even counting those who are summoned by the normal method, as well as those who are lucky enough to be summoned beforehand. And I have a vague suspicion the creatures will not be restrained by the debuffs of being in Reality without maximum support on this day due to the lack of reality. And the divine wrath, which always comes to the heads of the devils who have been a bit delayed in reality, is not present now and is not expected in the near future.

Summarizing all of the above and thousands more details that have never been mentioned, we can say only one thing. If the situation could be worse, it is not every day. Since no universe has enough shit to organize such a situation every day.

Several types of temporary boosts allow you to jump up by a certain value of characteristics or even temporarily start delivering something that cannot be delivered at your level. Some of them are incompatible with each other, and some of them, on the contrary, enter into synergy, but all of them can be divided into three main groups, from which the necessary subtypes of boosts will be selected afterward.

Blessings can easily include both super-powerful commanders or king's buffs and relatively simple magic of standard benefics or spellcasters. A separate line goes divine and priestly miracles, which can both turn a hundred peasants into an analog of a knight's column by the efforts of only one drunken village temple keeper, as well as turn out to be a waste, despite all sorts of sacrifices and financial injections into the pockets of the clergy. The gods are willful, even if they seem to be negotiable, and you never know for what reason they will decide to bestow or punish you. Even my Dreams and Shadows can, given my wish and sick imagination, properly buff a hapless victim... with quite predictable consequences.

Rituals include the widest range of influences, temporary and permanent but all of them, one way or another, are characterized by the greatest average duration, as well as the greatest risk for endowment. Sacrificial enhancements are especially characterized by the latter point as well as any other blackness. You can ask the devils. They know a lot about such tricks. Even the ordinary members of the cult were compared to the elites of the thirtieth level tonight. Not all of them would be able to survive the fall of the amplification, but treated with the Viciousness of the sweet Aspect that Lust was known for, the mortals were more than satisfied with their short jihad. Other rituals are much safer, and it is better to ask Tia, not the creatures, but the same Tia, who has experienced many strengthening rituals, but now, obviously, she does not have the resources of the Eternal Forest and a couple of years to prepare the most favorable ritual action.

Potions, as well as any enhancement with essences, combine relatively equal proportions of danger to the soul, brain, and body. Many adventurers or mercenaries have been hooked on alchemy, turning into wrecks that can't even breathe without it, even if they are deadly at the peak of their power. Only a few of them made such a step consciously, knowing in advance about the bottlenecks and dangers, while the rest simply ruined their lives, health, and psyche. Yes, and it was quite easy to get question marks in Status from the too-saturated potion, up to almost instant transformation into a creature. And yet, the consequences of misguided or excessive infatuation with essences are easiest to reverse without risk to the user. It's certainly easier for me.

Besides, alas for me, the alchemical pumping was the only thing I could do at a satisfying level. The rest of my classes, despite their immense coolness and mythicism, cannot be considered support classes. So two out of three options fell out, although I would sincerely like to see what the three mythic buffers, working through ritual, essence, and blessings at the same time, can do. And what if the mythic benefactors are taken as commander-type, planar, and divine at the same time..... I wonder if the trick with the first-level hobbit, knocking down a dragon with one stone fired from a sling, will be repeated in reality? Something tells me that with such a buff it will not only work...

Everyone had potions, and they were individually customized to each of my team's blood, giving maximum boosts to their preferred characteristics or class strengths. Under this kind of overclocking, one could easily add a hundred units to all stats except class stats, and on top of that specialization, aimed not at pure characteristics but at more flexible reinforcement. However, such overclocking is fraught with a lot of trouble. Even with my skills to remove intoxication after such a thing can only dream of.

The only pleasant exception was Hestia, whose misty form was just indecently resistant to any negative effects while absorbing any reasonable amount of essence and a fair share of unreasonable amounts. The price for such a feature was a faster washout of buffs from her body as if something was literally pulling my creations out of her, sending them straight into the Mist. I had to divide the potions into portions that she could use if she wanted to. She had no trouble putting a set of vials directly into herself, nor could she distinguish them by touch, opening the right ones.

Tia was the exception, not so pleasant. I didn't have the time or a proper lab (including the ever-present Green Tits orcs) to make potion complexes for her as well. No, I had made something comparable or even superior to the elixirs she'd taken earlier, right before her suicidal attack. And, mind you, my potions won't kill her, nor will they interfere too much with side effects, but.... she won't be at her full peak, the peak of what my efforts could turn her into. On the other hand, I can't call her weak. My conscience won't allow it.

The last exception, neutral in nature, can be considered Ygra. Because she has potions, and she even knows which ones to drink and in what order for each particular situation. Learning in dreams, despite all its disadvantages, can be indispensable. But even if she realizes that she should drink potions right now because it's coming (the effect of the failed city must somehow affect the world on the other side of the barrier). Luckily she can't get inside. Hell's grip on the swamps where Ygra was hiding didn't reach there, even though they were close to the outskirts of the city. And she shouldn't be here, not with her vulnerabilities to lust and mind control to fight against the devils who embodied lust.

We've all adopted the penultimate FUBAR set of compounds. It's not a sure thing that we'll be able to do it quickly, and the last stage of reinforcements is Tia's memorable "all or nothing." I'll be able to get my companions out after the rollback from the aforementioned limit potions, but not if they fall right in the middle of the battle, which is why we leave the strongest compositions for last resort.

"Oh, fuck!" That's all Hans can say, trying to catch his breath after a particularly strong-tasting extract from the roots of some strange chamomile that stays in his subspace pocket most of the year. "Ugh, fuck!"

"That's what my father used to say when he ate his own munchies." Taria, on the other hand, drinks in silence because, in her case, I didn't go for flavor either, giving primacy to functionality. "He cooked in such a peculiar way that all these Devils would consider some of it an instrument of torture. And such a stench there was after the meal, when he, well, and us too, if the old drunks agreed to share..."

I just shook my head when Losius started another argument with the dancer, whose memories of her childhood home cooking and stomach problems were in critical conflict with his sense of beauty. Losius could use a quarrel with someone right now. His potions increased his connection to Heaven and also served as a good sedative. Even though it was a purely physical effect that he couldn't get rid of (unlike the planar contamination that some of the reagents provoked), it was dangerous, even if effective, to be too calm when working with Heaven. If Taria hadn't started to piss him off, I'd have tried to give him a poke myself so he wouldn't relax.

"What's the limit?" Tia, who had drunk her portion of the disgusting drink, didn't even wrinkle her face, and in fact, was rapidly strengthening her consciousness by entering the elven equivalent of battle rage. "And the plan?"

Her vocabulary is still too specific, especially in moments of tension, but with me, she doesn't need to switch to the jargon familiar to human warriors. First of all, I haven't even learned the human list of commands abbreviated in a combat situation. Second, as it was said a hundred times, the boosted third eye, and not the ass, serves as an excellent translator even without additional effort. The range of preparation of the organism for potions is always individual, especially if the potions are also individually adjusted to the organism. Tia got all the necessary data from me in advance, and some of it, like the compatibility of potions with beneficial effects, had to be calculated right at the moment of answering her questions, but here she reinsured herself. If the alchemist turned out to be one of the Leaves in the battle group, then let him control in real time - there was little chance that he had made a mistake. As for the plan of action, the choice of which she gave entirely on my conscience...

"The plan is very vague," I answered, staring at my unopened potion bottles, thinking about an important and dangerous question in this situation. "But I can tell you for a fact that the only way to get through is closer to the center. And I have no idea how I'm going to drag all of you through the Shadow."

In a normal company, such words from the commander would have caused a slight panic, but we weren't normal, so the comrades reacted sluggishly to the poorly veiled "we're fucked," paying more attention to the potions they were slowly digesting. Hestia didn't react at all, outwardly, for sure.

"I know all avenues of escape are blocked, don't I?" The questioning tone in the elf's voice does not show any doubts, though they are bound to appear. "Yes, and you confirmed it earlier."

She's right and wrong at the same time. Yes, I can step into the Shadow and enter the real world only within the Eternal because it is still a part of reality. You can't step outside the barrier that reality has merged with. There is only Hell. This truth is true for all users of the plan. Even if one can reach through all the barriers using a monstrous affinity, there is still no escape. It's tricky. Very tricky - even if you can open a breach, it won't take you anywhere, and help won't arrive unless a squad of contracted planar creatures is sitting right next to the edge of reality. Even if they are, and they might be, the summoned creatures will be weakened and won't be able to call their folks for help.

In theory.

Because I, with a bunch of perks for working with space rifts, a mythical class, and such an affinity with Shadow that I don't even look much like a human without a disguise, am quite capable of breaking through reality deeper. Much deeper, a thousand times deeper, to be frank, despite the enormous demands on concentration and reserve to make the breakthrough itself. And I can step into it, either by myself or in the company. Step in, but not out.

T. N. Well, Kostik's a little biased here. He could very well have escaped through The Shadow. Alone.

The devils do not eat their bread for nothing and know very well about this weakness of their creation, so, being unable to correct this natural vulnerability, they simply perverted it beyond all reason. They know very well how to distort it. It's quite realistic to return after floating in the deep layers of the same Shadow - Tia did, and I dragged her through some very unpleasant landscapes, where even the Overlord is uncomfortable. But again, the structure of the barrier comes into play.

It leaves loopholes only because it is impossible to create such a structure entirely reliable and indestructible, but all the loopholes I have found remain only traps for those who try to use them. The upper layers, the states of other planes, and their stay are encapsulated inside the barrier if the nature of the realm itself allows it. It is possible to call, but the help will be limited, useless, and even harmful. The barrier drags not only the city but also a part of every plane connected with the real world into Hell. And I give you my tooth that if the devils want to, they'll crawl up not only through the real world but also from the side of said stolen sections of the plane. In the set of seduced souls that the devils have at their disposal, there will be some that will lead the saboteurs through the once native dimension, even at the cost of the existence of the soul itself.

You can break your way in. You can. But now, the barrier will serve as a kind of lens, a fuse, and a launcher at the same time. I can survive being in very deep layers of shadow, yes. But any successful attempt to break through the barrier will a priori lead me deeper, so deep that I can't vouch for the System's presence there. And even if by some miracle I manage to float back, like that always floating substance, without being eaten by the inhabitants or even simply dissolved by being in such an aggressive environment, I will float back after weeks at least, and it is better to bet on months and years. And it would be good if I swam out in Alurei and not in one of the neighboring (or not neighboring at all) worlds!

You can escape, but only into oblivion - if you don't leave your soul to Hell, you'll give it to your plane. And you will certainly not be able to call for help from reality, which is easier to reach through the barrier than to swim out of such depths, nor to use contracts with familiar creatures because they will be too far from the created breach and will not be willing (if they can at all) to fall to such depths and swim up from below, whether there is a contract there or not.

Either you're ours or you're nobody's.

You may escape the fate of our toy, but only at the cost of a fate only slightly less terrible. Come on, mighty mortal, make up your mind. You are strong, for the weak would not make it through this gap. You are mighty, for all your fellow power sources have only scratched the surface at most. This is your path. Take a step. And die in the arms of the one that you called. Or surrender to our mercy, and maybe we will give you not only agony but pleasure, quench your every fantasy, your every lust.

These poisonous images appeal to those who were able to find the right loophole. No one hid them. Rather they even pushed them forward. The devils had not unreasonably hoped to break the thirst for resistance among those who would try to escape instead of fighting and who had the strength to try. I'm sure they won't be deceived directly because the high-level cultists who accepted the Vice voluntarily are also more than needed by Hell. Those who will fight will fight anyway, but there might be a defector among the strong enough fugitives.

Shit.

Shit!

Crap!!!

They're all over me, they've thought of every option, fucking scumbags! I look, and I don't see a way out. I don't see a way at all. Even if I have a chance to go down that suicidal path, I won't be able to drag even one companion, let alone the whole team. Another choice, another trap, only for those who will not abandon their relatives, friends, or lovers. If there are such naive fools.

So far, the only thing I see as a way to shit on the creatures, rather than a chance for salvation, is to try to summon something really strong, taking advantage of the loophole left behind. Not to step forward, but on the contrary, to bait something evil and hungry, ready to kill, including the devils, on the bait in the form of my soul. And even so, I'm sure I just know that there will be a billet for this case, too. It can't help but be.

Except that the Overlord of Shadows doesn't seem to have to sacrifice himself to order an attack.... or at least point a finger at a possible dinner without becoming one himself (where I send a call, there will be few weak animals and too many strong ones). Anyway, in theory, if I use Armada correctly and run aside in time, I can do it! I can die beautifully and heroically, having previously shit under the enemy's door and spoiling their triumph. It's all so familiar. It brings tears to my eyes!

Anyway, the escape is canceled.

What about simply interrupting the ritual and making the city, if not fall back into the real world, at least stop falling? Every ritual has a center, and a ritual that this powerful has more than one. They're protected simply because they can't help but protect them, and the troopers thrown in from Hell are concentrated there in the first place so all sorts of smart guys don't get in the way. In theory, if enough key points of the ritual are destroyed, the process of fall can be slowed down or even stopped.

But the defenses of these points were obviously designed for the entire Eternal Guard, all of its elite, all of the summoned and local Heroes, and anyone else with any sort of fighting ability. Our company is toothy bastards and under extremely powerful buffs, but there are only six of us, and we won't make any difference. Especially in the big picture.

However, it was not for nothing that the Devils went to such trouble with many sabotage and direct attacks, deterring or destroying those dangerous to them, was it? Even now, without the use of clairvoyance, I can detect not only the emanations of Hell, not only the signatures of devils arriving in the barrier space but also the centers of distant battles, where people are fighting for their souls in the truest sense of the expression. In such a scenario, a well-coordinated and strong team that no one had even heard of, let alone suspected of having, could be the straw that pierced the camel's back to the heart.

It's all about making yourself believe.

And stop holding trump cards.

"I need five minutes." I finally speak, under the concerned looks of my companions, then open my Status.

It's time to beef up my fighting power a bit.

Five free skill points and fifteen free characteristic points, of which five, coming from Potential, can't be invested in Energy. Quite a chunk of power, especially at the current level, but I didn't want to waste it in a situation like this so much. It wasn't greed, which I'd gotten rid of, and it was silly to be greedy. It was the screaming instinct of self-preservation, still remembering what happened to me on that funny day when I invested too many skill points at once when I developed too much at once. Every time I look at the Humanity Price hanging in the status bar, every moment I look in the mirror at my pale and dreadful face, I remember that I shouldn't jump too fast. And I still have to blow out the boosters, which I had calculated for completely different parameters and a different state of mind!

However, if there is an exception to the "except as a last resort" rule, I'm having trouble coming up with a more "last resort" case than this. The invested points can strengthen me, and I need this strengthening. I just need it. And not the kind of enhancement I originally wanted - to break through to the third rank of Mystic Alchemist - but only and only a combat enhancement that could give me a small but at least some increase in my chances of seeing a normal sky.

Closing two rank three skills at once, investing four out of five points, was a risky move. And the worst part is, I can't delay! I don't even have five minutes to adapt and try to hold back my power, which is tearing at my core! In fact, I should have invested a point every three days, gradually learning new tricks and letting myself get used to such a profound change. I had to, however, as always.

I clenched my teeth, and with the sensation of icy needles piercing my veins, with the whispering of the Shadows, with my hunger spiking to unbearable levels, I put the points into my shadow class. My hands, strangely enough, hardly shake at all.

Form of Shadow: 9/9

Allows you to give your entire body the properties of the Shadow while in the material world; allows you to perfectly manipulate the shape of your own body while in shadow form; allows you to completely ignore any physical, as well as most of the magical and a significant list of conceptual damage if it is inflicted on the part of the body that has taken the form of the Shadow; allows you to freely navigate even in the extremely deep layers of the Shadow, taking the most appropriate form for staying there; allows you to take non-anthropomorphic and any other forms when in reality; allows you to extremely increase the volume and power of your own body by taking a shadow form; when in the form of Shadow, the characteristics are strengthened depending on the degree of change; allows you to instinctively feel the degree and moment of transition of the form, using it to protect against sudden blows; allows you to form areas of maximally concentrated Shadow on your body, using your body as a weapon, as well as to weaponize your entire body; attacks with this weapon can ignore almost any defense, including exotic, unique, conceptual, legendary and part of mythical; when a single strike is insufficient to overcome defenses, the concentrated Form is guaranteed to damage and weaken any barriers up to divine ones; strikes with the concentrated Form cause enormous damage to subtle bodies, imposing long-lasting or even permanent status effects on the target, while simultaneously causing the strongest planar contamination, causing gradual or rapid fading of life and disintegration of essence; allows you to take the partial form of an Ancient Shadow, extremely strengthening the magical talents associated with shadow manipulation and granting extremely powerful resistance to the energies usually detrimental to Shadows; allows instant change of form and the transition from the human state to the shadow state, even if it is an Ancient Form; allows you to change the Form in such a way as to strengthen a certain set of class skills or get for a while a part of the abilities characteristic only for Shadows of a particular subspecies; increases the characteristic of the Shadow by +15; Increases the Concentration characteristic by +15; increases the Endurance characteristic by +10; increases the Energy characteristic by +5.

I didn't feel any pain or even too bad, but I didn't want to repeat such procedures, for they were very perishing, very perishing, as if I were digging my own grave or walking straight into the dragon's mouth. I am well aware that these are not empty feelings but quite obvious interpretations of what is happening through the prism of my premonitions, but what's the use? I have to keep going, and I do, even though my companions at this very moment distinctly shuddered when I got a second whiff of something I usually try to keep to myself.

The final reinforcement, which is more stable and less dangerous, though a weakened manifestation of the Ancient Pact perk I once ignored, only seemed a little thin at first as for a closed skill of the third rank. That's because I mistook it for the final one. That's how it seemed! The main gift was not the cut version of Pact and not the possibility of instantaneous jumping between forms, and not as before, in a fraction of a second, but instantly - here you are a huge multi-armed Shadow, here you strike a blow, and the response strikes already in the void, because you are again a man ... or a Shadow, too, but completely different ... or a Shadow too, but in a completely different form.

The choice of reinforcement type is my main takeaway from this skill. The ability to prepare myself for any fight in the most appropriate scenario for me. I've been able to use features unique to shadows before, reinforcing them with class skills, but now it would be a different matter entirely, incredibly useful, and equally risky. I sincerely, to the point of screaming frantically, regret the lack of time for training - this particular ultimatum ability for a closed rank requires long and thoughtful mastering, not an instant dash into battle.

Well, what next?

We'll have to improvise on the fly, as always, and in the meantime, we'll continue on the course, hoping that we'll be able to change the route of the final trip or at least jump off the bus before arriving at the point, dig it in the fuck, of destination.

The second portion of reinforcement is even harder, and to the previous sensations, I have added the feeling of absolute emptiness and deprivation from everything, which is so annoying and unbearably hateful to me. No breathing, no warmth of the human body, no heartbeat, no desires, and even no thoughts. The sharp development of Aegis, as well as Form earlier, is characterized by sensations from its use elevated to the absolute. Taking into account the intensification of consequences after each carelessly invested point, now it is even harder, much harder, and almost physically painful.

Aegis of Shadow: 9/9

Allows you to manifest a planar embodiment of Shadow around you, using it to ignore the effects on body, mind, and soul; completely negates the effects of skills designed to counter shadow classes, except for the strongest of the divine; catastrophically increases stealth when used; allows you to screen out any damage values, redirecting them to the Shadow plan without wasting energy; when using the Shadow Form, the cost of maintaining the Aegis becomes extremely low; allows you to use the surface of your Aegis-covered body as a breach to the deeper layers of Shadow, sending dangerous attacks into oblivion; allows you to activate full invulnerability, making your body a full-fledged moving spatial breach to the deeper layers of Shadow; Aegis, when activated in invulnerability mode, can, with a high probability, reflect even the strongest of divine attacks, depending on the power and characteristics of the user, but with each attack absorbed in the afterburner mode, the load on the subtle body increases; in combination with Shadow Steal, it allows, with additional effort, to impose Aegis on allied creatures, taking away the load on the essence or give the coming madness to the Aegis-shrouded ones; allows you to stretch Aegis over a certain area at high cost, as well as transfer all captured space into Aegis afterburner mode; allows you to cover an enemy with Aegis at physical contact with the target and maximum tension, then send him to the deep layers of Shadow, almost guaranteed to destroy even near-divine entities, if they do not have time to repel such an attack; increases the Shadow characteristic by +15; increases the concentration characteristic by +15; increases the perception characteristic by +10; increases the energy characteristic by +5.

From the very beginning, despite all the dangers and threats to my not-so-stable mind, Aegis seemed to me the most useful and, at the same time, safe class skill on the third rank of the shadow class. Now, having developed it to the maximum, having fully realized the essence of this skill, and having evaluated the prospects opened by the final and previous improvements, I was once again convinced of its incredible usefulness, as well as completely finally and forever disbelieved in any kind of there, even if a thousand times relative, safety of it.

The Form of the Shadow, for all its suffocating desire to turn me into a Shadow in more than just Form, was understandable. To this aspect of existence side by side with the Shadow, I managed not to get used to it because there is no way to get used to it without becoming one of them, but a little bit to familiarize myself. Actually, from the very first ranks of this class, I was shown quite clearly what I was dealing with. You can't be prepared for such things, that's for sure, but still.... But still, I got some bits of awareness of what the future held for me, not having my pants down when I had to develop my Form in combat.

In the case of Aegis, it is quite different. Beyond the limits of experience already had, beyond the limits of any possible experience. Aegis is the void. It is the embodiment of eternal loneliness, doomed to oblivion from the very beginning of existence. This doom, this hunger, and cold, which cannot be quenched in any way, only momentarily muted, is the very essence of Shadow, a state whose very nature is to hate both Light and Darkness, whose inhabitants have no place anywhere, no pity and no forgiveness.

The very feeling of complete deprivation from any manifestation of reality, which the afterburner application of Aegis induces, turned out to be something much more terrible than the usual planar pressure. By forcing my best defense into overdrive, I unwittingly forced my soul, all that is in it except the loneliness granted to the Shadows in the void, to digest itself in an attempt to delay that loneliness. If only for a moment, if only for a single moment, to delay the return to the previous inputs.

From this angle, the ultimate attack, which could bring down even a divine avatar if he was lucky, was no longer an attack but a desperate attempt to share loneliness with someone, to feed it to anyone but himself. There is no group defense projected through Aegis, just another attempt to give loneliness to someone instead of yourself. It's like the shadow-stealing cure - an opportunity to use an originally murderous tool in an unintended way.

I feel like I'm going to need to try out my new acquisitions in combat very soon because there are clearly too many targets worthy of such attacks. I'm holding the last point for a better opportunity. I'm dangerously close to something bad happening. I can't survive another closed skill, even if it's alchemical rather than shadow type. Or, more likely, I won't survive it. Four steps to improve in two minutes.

I shuddered from another stream of cold needles coming from my heart, suppressing them again with my willpower, and almost indifferently perceived the presence of another system message in my field of vision. Wow, I finally got the amount of Endurance I needed to get the legendary perk. At the same time, if memory serves me correctly, I never invested a single characteristic in this stat, and I was pumping only with titles. I can only imagine how some pro tanks would react to such a statement. Like everyone else, probably - by trying to kill Konstantin Yurievich, only now not for the mere presence of the Hero title in the stat, but also out of pure envy.

The Endurance characteristic has reached 200 units! Choose a skill!

- Body of Steel (legendary);

- Infinity of Battle (legendary);

The next bonus will become available when you reach 300 units!

Two choices, and I could live without both of them. However, endurance is the most underutilized characteristic for me. With my Shadow Form and rapid regeneration when diving into the shadow plane, the most important thing for me is not to get killed right away, and then I don't care. If I were to attack myself, I could be taken down with a very fast and accurate attack with the support of un-existence and a powerful artifact in hand. Well, at least that's how I would prefer to eliminate my evil doppelganger.

That's why my obvious choice is Body of Steel. Of course, it won't make me a second Clark Kent, but it's not for nothing that this perk is a development and strengthening of the already-taken Iron Body. Even more weighting of the body is easily leveled by the natural, as breathing itself, the use of the Leaf in the Wind. And the monstrous strength of skin and bones, along with increased resistance in a human form greatly increase the chances of surviving the first sudden blow. If someone bad happens to inflict it.

Against this background, the second perk looks not that useless, but not too necessary. Infinity will allow you to stop getting tired even in the toughest battle. For some super-heavy knight, who almost does not use external magic and does not have large-scale techniques that will drain purely magical reserve, whose class is just for long and exhausting battles, it would come in handy. This is not only the absence of fatigue but also the ability to fight at the limit even all day long. If you can repeat such a technique at least once, then the number of these "times" has become infinite. The same Losius, although he is dexterous, such a perk will be a hundred times more useful than me. I don't need physical stamina. I replenish my magical reserve fast enough, so my fatigue is largely moral and mental. And a perk that allows me to ignore planar contamination and roll back mind instability would not be legendary but something far above mythic.

The choice is made, followed immediately by a sharp burning sensation in the whole body, when its energy structure is reorganized in such a way as to influence the physical state. I have long suspected that increasing the index of some characteristic up to a certain level simply leaves a kind of spiritual potential, and the System can offer to use it for some modification. And this modification is not random but depends on your actions tied to this characteristic.

My body stops aching, and I invest the free points. It also needs adaptation, a gradual investment of a couple of points a day, but all my thoughts on this topic have already been said, and I don't see the point in repeating myself. If I survive, I will spend at least a month in meditation and rest. If not much longer. If there is someone to conduct it.

I put ten free points into Energy, so Potential doubles it, giving me another five points in almost any stat. Now, there are fifteen more points, which immediately go into Dexterity. I'm going to need the speed. I seriously don't want to face the problem of not being able to react in time to danger, even with enough magic to fend off an attack. Even though the Form increases dexterity, not to mention the ability to specialize the Form for specific types of enhancements, it's still the basic dexterity that increases.

I cast my last glance at Status, opening vial after vial without looking, absorbing elixir after elixir without tasting or smelling it.

Characteristics (standard):
Strength: 165
Dexterity: 260
Endurance: 205
Perception: 249
Concentration: 370
Energy: 409 (1to2)

Characteristics (class):
Shadow: 243
Dreams: 197
Inspiration: 143

My gut is screaming more and more. My senses are going crazy, picking up the echoes of other people's battles, other people's deaths, other people's fucking wars. All around me is hell, on all sides of the world, above and below, but the worst hell is still inside me. It is tearing outward, demanding tribute, demanding blood, demanding to drown out the hatred fed by hastily invested glasses. There is no fear, no despair, no doubt.

There is nothing.

"I'm ready." There was only collectedness and indifference in his voice, to the quiet clinking of vials barely audibly crumbling against the dirt of the alleyway where we had retreated to regroup. "Third formation. I'm the main link, and Losii through the veil. Engage."

I didn't realize which one of them answered first, but I could swear that even Tia spit out a response right at the same instant, along with all of us. Humans, an elf, a monster, and someone else who stubbornly thought he was human. What a team, but I wouldn't wish any other on myself, not for a single moment.

"Fight."

And we went to battle, probably the last one.

Skilled fighters can run very fast. Both to attack and away from enemy attacks. If such fighters did not have such a developed skill, they would hardly live up to their levels. If pumped-up fighters pour a couple of liters of potions created by the mythical alchemist into their throats, they will be able to run even faster. Both to and from the attack. And in this world, roads are only a recommendation, not a strict restriction for those who like to move fast. Among us, everything and everyone knew how to run on rooftops, as well as on any other rough terrain, without paying much attention to the landscape. And I won't say that the average car moved so much faster. The same Losius could seriously compete with the Earth street racers now, and he didn't need his own sports car for racing, especially if the distance was not straight.

It took us a record time to get to the point where my intuition, mixed with an ever-increasing urge to kill and destroy, was leading me. The guards, at least, wouldn't have gotten here, even if they had the will, time, and manpower. After all, the inconspicuous warehouse complex was not a retail outlet but the headquarters of one of Eternal's major gangs. Not where the Fathers and their cronies lived, for they had much more respectable homes, but where their fighting wing was based. The latter was obvious even without clairvoyance due to the Hero's mere glance - there were too many holders of thieves and bandit classes of a rather high level. The number of the latter was growing rapidly, while the former was falling.

There were relatively few cultists, about two dozen, but every one of them reeked of Lust in all its forms. They had taken the bandits by surprise when not all of them were at the base, and those who were were not ready for battle. Slowly and methodically, they knocked out the strongest, subdued the lower thugs instead of lockpicks to let them go forward, stupefied the mind with illusions, and divided the sectors of the battlefield with barriers. I even wondered at first why this group had come to the bandits since criminals are the last social group that can be expected to resist taking over a city. The site of this compound is just a surprisingly convenient place for another large-scale sacrificial ritual. Not to hasten the fall into Hell but to remove the defenses of one of the magical guilds that had wrapped themselves in their barriers. Or rather, one of the guild's branches.

The perfect spot to create a ritual, feed it to the victims (that's why so many prisoners are taken), then create a bridge link between the warehouses and a corps of Turquoise Word fighters standing far away (in another part of the city altogether, for that matter). Something to do with the Eternal's magic field systems, partially hacked by the cult. Sort of like using the dormant remnants of one of the barriers that used to be tied to a yet-to-be-bought complex of buildings from the Imperial Chancellery, where the guild's warriors and mages are now preparing defenses. I didn't want to look so deeply into the existence of such vilified creatures. I didn't feel sorry for their brains, but it was just disgusting and unpleasant. I'm not playing detective. I'm going to kill.

A few gesture signals were clear to everyone on the team, and we slowed down the run, not even knocking our breath away, after which we spent only minimal effort on preparation and attack. While running, I had time to bring my comrades up and even argue with Tia, who suggested just covering the whole complex with a shadow carpet from a super long distance, and that's it. I, however, was wary of exposing myself, so obviously, at least for now.

Two dozen once-human beings, mostly either melee warriors with monstrous regeneration and mind-affecting aura or very strong barrier mages and mentalists. The gifts of Devils are more dangerous than simple class skills of even a rare class, and when these gifts support an existing class, it's sad. However, I am much more concerned about the two devils incarnated in the vessels prepared for them. Unlike those who came into the barrier directly, their bodies were not the semi-material energy substance that their brethren really were, but very powerful possessed, capable of surprising even a very experienced exorcist by leaning on a busy vessel.

The first pervert looked like a naked girl crawling on four limbs (three joints and eight fingers on each of the hand-legs) with mouths (I'll count those holes as mouths, though I really suspect otherwise) on her back and huge breasts. It didn't seem like a particularly big deal, but it was big - about as big as almost two Ygra if she stood on two leg-arms. Apparently, the life of some female giant had gone into the creation of this vessel because there was no characteristic indication that it had previously been multiple bodies fused together. The second devil was already pure, without a host (that almost disintegrated either because of a mistake in the ritual or because of the active battle), a representative of Hell, looking like a shining white-gold humanoid figure with a dozen tentacles instead of arms. The first is a powerful barrier-breaker and a master at hitting brains with Lust. The second was a melee fighter with a couple of magic tricks and the same mental pressure.

The servants' levels are around thirtieth, and the fiends' levels are clearly above forty, but they don't have a decent sensor, and we're perfectly hidden through my shadow steal. In a different situation, I would have preferred to really hit from an extreme distance, but right now...

Taria was the first to play, accelerating sharply, overtaking me, and literally running upward, grabbing the air. The high-level Dancer had long since mastered the famous Chinese cultivator's technique of running through the air. Soaring, however, in this world is given to few people since without the prohibitive maneuverability is very easy to be in the role of a clumsy target for both powerful archers and extremely dangerous in such a situation mages. Instead of flying over the heads of the cultists, she hovered at the highest point of the jump for only a moment, firing Valerium.

My whisper, transmitted along with the shadow, as well as the unlearned transmission of a set of images to someone who wasn't considered a seer, played out like clockwork in this situation. Maybe because Taria had long ago developed her intuition and sense of danger to the point where she could consider herself weak and poor but still seer. Either practice in the wild lands, the last levels were taken, the effects of the potions I and she had taken, or I was just lucky. The fact remained the same: the shot was aimed at the back of the head of the ritualist who was leaning over the next victim she'd presented to her. She was just about to kiss, with subjugating effect, the thirteenth-level ritualist as her head raced lustful brains over her victim and her closest allies. Not a single flash of foresight, even toward the very end. Taria had gotten pretty good at hiding herself, and I'd helped her out too. The attack of a legendary artifact is always the most uncomfortable and deadly for the victim.

They reacted quickly, albeit not so professionally. Gifts and levels gained from sacrificial rituals don't make you a trained warrior. But the one who led them, the same fighter devil with tentacles instead of limbs, had at the very last moment commanded the fellow in the vessel, as well as a couple of the others who had managed to react to the command backed by the veneer, to put up a barrier. The barrier was powerful, strong, and quickly established at the expense of the lives of half of the lockpicks, who had fucked out their souls for the sake of a surge of strength for the cult mages who had put enchanted collars on them.

Good work.

If they had put the barrier on the right side, it would have been amazing. It was not for nothing that I had become so good at deceiving others' instincts, sometimes showing them pictures that were completely opposite to the real ones. A blackened piece of mirror was scattered in my hands, but one of the trump cards, and the strongest of the defenses, was wasted. More importantly, the time that could have saved them from further damage was also wasted.

The Shadows stirred, coming to life with a triumphant whisper and a shrill, blood-curdling shriek as the cultists were struck in the back not even by a battering ram but by a wall of concentrated energy that literally devoured light. And this wall was met by another barrier, the setting of which made the giantess-contained woman melt like wax, and the barrier was followed by an attack that extinguished the shadow charms. Or rather, as the deviless had calculated, weakening her vessel even more, not extinguishing but only destabilizing the penetrating power of the charms so the barrier could withstand the attack of the wave that had lost its strength.

It survived, albeit weakened almost to the point of disintegration, releasing a couple of souls feeding the barrier. And then the main attack came from above, hitting the bastards in a single decisive slap. Losius, who had fallen behind the group, took full advantage of his strengthened connection to Heaven and the temporary lack of need to conserve reserve by dropping a Blue on the creatures. It really did look like a palm falling to the ground, condemning and punishing. The lad had enough strength to make his way to Heaven, but beyond that, the unpreparedness of the devils played a role. The devils had centuries, if not millennia of experience, but it was hard to expect Heaven when all your senses, yours and those of the unlucky souls of unlucky seers subordinated to you, were crying out for the imminent attack of the eternal enemy of your dimension.

Both creatures were splattered without a chance to escape, spilling their tormented sonm into the vastness before them. All that remained of the giantess's vessel were the palms of all four limbs, already spreading wax and moldy honey, and a piece of her left breast oozing toxic mutagen. The Cultists had survived a bit more since they weren't the ones who'd taken the brunt of the damage. They didn't stay there long. Behind one of them, a focused Hans came out of his Trail, immediately retreating back, reappearing behind another survivor as the first one crumbled. Tracker blades oozing flame essence. A second lead shot extinguished an eternity-old freak with its mouth and eyes sewn shut, already preparing a suicidal attack. The last couple were petted with her dagger by the sharply accelerated Tia, who only scratched both foes, retreating behind the back of the Pathfinder.

The fight took about five seconds, most of it spent waiting out the skystorm so we wouldn't get hit by it. The next moment, we were already running away, only Taria unceremoniously snatched the flask from the belt of one of the few surviving bandits, patronizingly patting the Alurean thug who had wet himself on the cheek. Whether she liked the flask, beautifully ornamented, or whether she was just making fun of the art of blowing people's brains out.

That's it. High level, tons of titles of each of the group members, drunk potions, and the support of two visionaries at once, suppressing other attempts to see, allowed us to simply pass through these guys. In a different situation, things would have turned out differently, but that's what my skills are for. To hit the enemy at the most unexpected moment. Leave the pathos for other situations. It's enough for me to win and survive myself and my allies.

The second group, consisting of exactly the same number of cultists, only supported by one deviless who occupied the vessel from a voluntary donor, was destroyed exactly as Tia had originally suggested - with a powerful blow from beyond their sight. Even though the hellish lady, who moved in the arms of her subordinate centurion of the city guard, was not much weaker than both of the previous devils, it was a very convenient place. And I wanted to try out some new tricks, too.

In an instant, without the slightest warning of intuition or sensory skills, the alleyway they were following to the next battle point to support their allies plunged into the blackness of shadows. It wasn't an Aegis overlay on the square for too much of an expensive technique as it was for this group. But there was something of Aegis in it because the combination of Manifestation, Creation, and direct shadow control was so thick. It was as if the alleyway had taken on the properties of Shadow without being transported into Shadow, simply drying out the bodies and dissolving the souls of the cultists. The possessed woman was the only one who sprawled in a puddle from the aggression and a couple of additional attacks that penetrated the hastily put-up shields. The rest of them were good loot if I'd been stupid enough to do so. I have too intimate an experience with Hell artifacts. They're always trying to fuck me up! And the fact that balls don't touch mean anything.

In addition to the cohesive groups of cultists, there were also some small groups of three or four not-so-highly-pumped whom I was strangling with their own shadows on the fly, without distraction. Most of them didn't even have normal Gifts! Nevertheless, our path with the team could be calculated by breadcrumbs from quietly and uncomplicatedly killed "brothers and sisters." Some of those killed, however, were from the townspeople who had managed to molest themselves from the general atmosphere, and it was too late to save them, but killing them turned out to be a mercy. Well, if the souls of the dead were not carried upwards into the purple sky as if they were drawn there by a pump.

The townspeople, for the most part, simply hid in houses or basements, praying desperately or trying to gather militias or crowd into temples and chapels. Some of the religious points of influence on reality were destroyed, captured, seduced, or desecrated. Some were besieged without being able to suppress them completely, but there were enough small churches that the cult didn't need to spend forces on. There is no connection with the Divine Patrons, the possibility of uniting the altars into one network is blocked, and there is no chance to hold a common city prayer service - it is easier to let the future goods and materials themselves to gather in a pile, so as not to fish them out later. From this point of view, these small temples are even useful to the Deils - they can't disturb or protect, but they can easily prevent the disintegration of souls due to contact with the very energy of Hell. And those who have given their souls to the plane will not give them to their native domain, nor will they give them to their lord. And if the lord of the Aspect of Lust's domain doesn't get his profit, then the negligent servants will need Vaseline and not figuratively.

We passed two more relatively small groups in the same way without slowing down the pace. One of them was killed by Losius, who hit them another heavenly slap under the cover of my un-existence. The second one, molding the bodies of fucked technical virgins (they fucked them in other orifices, so much so that the nuns of some of the light temples had their hearts set on pleasure), a host for some particularly strong creature, was killed in the arms of Tia's flora. There was nothing to walk in the park because in Eternal, lately, parks have become very dangerous.

The second group had been dealt with a bit too harshly, almost instantly turning them all to humus after the druid had turned the bushes around the sacrificial clearing into the basis for a closed barrier, saturated the air with ergot mosses and lichens, and then sprouted it all abruptly. They didn't have a normal sensor, and Tia could mask the coming of an attack without my help, especially under the boost from the alchemy. Judging by the scraps of visions I'd caught, now, when the plan was in its final phase, the different factions of the same domain were starting to tug at the blanket. The cult serves one Sovereign, but that Sovereign has many servants who would do well to be in the barrier a little sooner than the others. To taste agony, give pleasure, corrupt the sweetest souls, or get the most valuable artifacts that could be used later, given purely to their cults or given in exchange for a favor. Truly, Devils are the most social creatures of all existing inhabitants of other planes!

Then we were almost on our way to kill another group, but it was hit by a mass of spells, priestly ones from a major temple, literally splattering the stormtroopers in maximum stealth across the paving stones. We were getting closer and closer to more respectable neighborhoods, where such skirmishes were found at almost every turn.

It was at the moment when we were making a circle around the temple, which had become one of the defense points, that the enemy's assault squad, which had just been transported in the streams of purple-gold portal incarnation, appeared right in front of our noses. If all the previous freaks, though not lower than the fortieth level, were not even a match for the messenger I remembered, then this time was different.

Small beasts flew in the air, the simplest of their kind, looking like multicolored clouds of sparks. Each cloud had its color. Inside them, female or male figures danced, the basis of the newborn creature, the first of the souls fed to it. These were not too dangerous and could mesmerize only the weak and classless, but there were about three hundred of them. Other, stronger creatures looked like a circus of freaks - tentacles, huge genitals, claws, suction cups, extra mouths, limbs, and faces, often all on the same body. Their bodies were almost real. Far more material than the Shadows', but still they did not belong to the real world. Out there, outside the barrier, they would have been pushed back quickly and painfully if they hadn't found a way to anchor their presence. Here and now, the usual tricks and stratagems were no longer necessary.

In the center of the enemy formation stood a tall creature, only slightly shorter than Ygra, who had taken the form of a blue-skinned deviless with an appearance that brought back memories of the Azari from an almost forgotten mass effect game. The aura of lust was such that I was almost cramped in my pants, pulling mind effects through the shadows for the whole group. She was beautiful in her own way, but all my sensory abilities were showing something that made me nauseous. Even with the Shadows no longer seeming so fucked up!

The thought of using the Ring on her flickered and went away - level fifty-five, and it would be too presumptuous to expect to break through her mental defenses with a weakened False Cool submission. Neither we nor they had time to react. Three hundred inferiors, about half a dozen level forty to forty-ninth level wielders, and one actual Legend against our merry company. Without the alchemical boost, my companions would have been swept away in the first few seconds, but without that boost, we'd still be in cover. Well, if these guys try to complain about my team's doping, let them go.

I attack first, feeling the blue of the sky power begin to shine behind me, and the stunted bushes and wooden planks of the surrounding houses (it's a shame there's so much more stone in these neighborhoods) fill with the will of the druid influencing them. The first note is a blanket of shadows pulled from the long shadow of the nearest building. The cloth soars upward, overwhelming the cloud of minutiae, which in such a number can synchronize its flair and hit with an already dangerous attack.

The shadow cloth is still ripping upward, and I'm already spitting the most concentrated blot right into the freak that's covering the main creature. The flight speed of these charms is probably even faster than that of a bullet. A pistol bullet, that's for sure. But the effect is much cooler. The blot that opened and released its contents inside the body of the enemy simply eats him from the inside as if a simple dead man. Following the death of one of the full-fledged Devils, the cloth falls on the cloud of trifles, immediately thickening, shrinking, gaining outlines and greater sharpness, ready to transport the whole group at once to the Shadow itself. And given the bloody (literally!) barrier lens, it would send them very deep.

A flash of burning souls, triggered by the attack of two or even three devils at once, tears the canvas before it turns into a cut-out piece of reality construct, and then they start fighting back. Well, I didn't expect it to be that easy.

The wave of one of the Devils released a stream of golden light that merged with the heaven barrier Losius had raised, then drifted away along with the barrier. It's like shining a flashlight. Only the beam of light actually attracted another beam to itself and now won't let go. The two creatures were carried behind our backs in a blink, and the blue-skinned one opened her pretty mouth and let out a phrase I couldn't hear, along with a barely discernible petal of pink light that disappeared immediately.

My pre-warning instincts realize what's happening just before the desperately fortified Shadow Theft that has embraced and protected Taria is dealt a monstrous blow. The soul of one very loyal cultist has long since disintegrated, leaving behind only a memory that can weed into a new soul and make it an exact copy of the past.

It's not a mental attack in the truest form, and if it is, it trumps simple mentalism the same way a tank trumps a moped. Taria simply remembered that she was her mistress's loyal servant, and now there was a battle around and she was holding a legendary artifact that could so easily be aimed at the backs of the enemies of her love and her goddess. Without stopping the attack, I pull the stolen shadow of the dancer for a fraction of a second, giving her back control over her body. She was already aiming Valerium at the back of Losius's head. The girl, quickly orienting herself, simply unclenches the palm holding the revolver. She fights and tries to squeeze the other's personality out of her head, but the impact is too close to conceptual tricks... exactly until Losius picks up the Valerium and touches that one, sending a flood of Heaven through Taria's body.

My companion is not a shadow user, and she even enjoys such a shower, but the hell charms, as well as the shadow defense, on the contrary, so after another moment, Taria has already picked up Valerium and immediately shot at the head of the fan of blinking stepping the Hestia back. At the same time, I nudged the Devil that decided to attack the still-frozen Tia, directing the soul of the experienced beholder, who was helping him, directly at the elf's blade. The legendary poison blade!

I was close to the line of creatures ready to meet me, but there was no meeting. With a single exhalation, my shoulders squared because of the Form I had taken under my clothes, and I filled the space around me with a cloud of rustling shadows. If someone wanted to break the distance, they were too late because my creation was just obscenely concentrated. It forces them to let all the forces on defense and wait until the pumping of such powerful charms will subside, not realizing that there will be no subsidence. I can keep this thing under potions and Form for a long time, not to mention make it even stronger.

The devil who had received the revolver shot was very much surprised. He was sure he had recoiled from the blackness that the shot had sent at him. Next to Master of Traile, you'd have to watch your step more carefully, and it wouldn't do any good anyway. Tia's scratched devil, meanwhile, recoils, struggling to fight the poison in his body. The Devil is not entirely material, and the poison of Tia's Crooked Root is designed primarily for living and mortal beings. He should have attacked, but he doesn't have the concentration resources to attack, as he desperately transfers the damage from the magical poison to the captured souls, releasing them into oblivion one by one. Even so, the small scratch grows and grows, oozing golden honey and pus. And this time, the pus is not from the twisted nature of the Devil of Lust but from a poison that is terrible in its unstoppability.

Hestia faded like the mist, bending impossibly, preventing its suction cup-covered limbs from reaching her misty body, deflecting the mental attack, and letting a series of not-so-strong but very frequent hells charms pass by. And then Hans stepped in front of the creature, immediately causing it to hiss from the scratches it had received, the flesh around it beginning to smolder. The creature had enough speed to deflect and even counterattack the overconfident mortal, but surprise surprise. His attacks missed, and the dodge didn't work.

Tia stepped after the poisoned devil, crushing in her hand the small wooden plate for which she had danced in her ritual room for nearly a week. From the cracked rectangle, covered in several layers of strange markings, flew a glowing dot so small that it was unclear how it could be seen. When it hit the creature, it flashed with an impossible hue of light, which shook the creature that had closed itself in with its souls. Part of his host Sonm disappeared, and another part was terribly distorted. And these souls, twisted, mutilated, and tormented by an unknown force, no longer listened to their master, slowing him down even more and preventing him from withdrawing the poison. He almost threw the corrupted thing away, but from the window of the nearest house a rotting root, oozing poison and covered with rapidly fading flowers, struck him, slowing him down for another moment, and a legendary dagger stabbed right into the center of his essence, just below his neck. And it was no longer a scratch.

Another shot from Taria drives away another devil from Losius, who has slowed down because of the mental pressure, while Hans slowly and methodically pushes the one already shot by her. The tracker doesn't notice that the four-armed lady somehow makes him repeat her movements until the tracker reflects her like a mirror. One must not hesitate with devils, for they are always more experienced. One must hit them with a decisive and deadly blow.

Taria's shot caused Losius' opponent to slow down, and the recovered Duelist used the Absolute Presence trick already used in the arena of the House of a Thousand Spectacles, thrusting his sword into the creature's body, hitting some spit-out abomination with a Missed Touch, and sending Heaven energy through his blade. The creature howled and almost managed to catch the Duelist in the blue chains that popped out of the spatial rifts, each link of which was someone's soul. A very strong attack, a pity it was used at the wrong time. Well, it's a pity for the devil but good for us. The creature had time to free itself, kill, and devour the guy who had gotten too close, lost some of his heavenly aura, and was too invested in the attack. But immediately, ordinary iron chains appeared around her, only covered in spikes and blades. The material illusion surrendered under the devil's attack almost instantly, but that very "almost" was enough for the blueness of Heaven to reach the focus of the summoner and destroy the abomination. With a final moan of pleasure, the creature almost drove Losius mad and put Taria in an erotic stupor, but the former came to his senses on his own, and the latter was helped by the Dream-based trigger she asked me to create back in the wild lands.

The four-armed woman stepped back silently, and Hans, smiling cheekily, retraced her steps. The four-armed woman smiled sweetly, which looked a little strange on a titty pile of muscles and claws, and pointed her finger at Tia, who had just finished killing her colleague, and Hans, without changing his expression and without losing confidence that he had the situation under control, stepped onto the path and tried to cut the elf's throat on the way out.

Recovering from the use of the heavy technique - a combination of hypnosis and clairvoyance, helping not to make a mistake in induction, which reminded me of an orchid with the status of a leader - the deviless hesitated, not noticing Hestia returned to the battle, drew closer, calmly took the spit of a lilac blade with a deadly filling on her chest, banally drowning it in the Mist, and then uncomplicatedly exhaled into her face a cloud of the essence of Heaven pumped out of Losius' blood.

Shrieking in pain, the devil recoiled, lost the initiative, and didn't notice that Hestia drew close again and unleashed a stream of Dark Plane essence borrowed from my collection on the already raised defense against light plans. This time, the creature didn't even have time to squeal, but a throw of the vial pulled from the mist, which left the devil with only three of its four arms and one leg. The negator, combined with an extremely strong solvent, simply pulverized the planar creature's energy body into dust and pus.

Tia silently performed the same trick of transmitting an image through clairvoyance directly into her opponent's head without the recipient's consent, knocking Hans out of his altered state of consciousness, causing him to stagger back and sit down to rest because of his headache. Tia was about to step in to help Taria and Locius, who were just finishing off their chain-maker when thoughts of sex entered her eared head. An obsession of extreme power, forbidding any thoughts unrelated to lust from arising in the elf's mind. She could easily drop such an influence without even looking, but to do so, she had to at least think about the need to drop the influence. And it was those thoughts that were forbidden by the creator of the obsession.

Tia, breathing rapidly and nearing ecstasy, didn't react to the devil, who appeared from subspace and appeared right next to her, clearly male. The tall and graceful one had already bent to seal her soul and will with a kiss when he received another stream of the essence in his back. Hestia, on whom he applied a similar effect, lost her anthropomorphic form because of her thoughts fixated on male (and female, for devils, know a thing or two!) members. And having lost its form and thinking, it became more of a monster than an endowed one, which is why the influence designed for human consciousness fell off. Having regained her self-consciousness but wasting no time in regaining her form, she attacked the forty-ninth-level monster, who had already set himself up to gain the fiftieth level at the expense of such an old and rare soul as the enchanted Tia possessed.

The essence blow was repelled with no apparent disregard, and he dodged Hans's throw of the blade by turning his head slightly to the side, at the same time leveling the effect of the Trail that should have prevented the miss. He could work with space just fine. Sitting in subspace, he'd already learned the way my companions fought. Having made two evasions and again nearly rendered Hans unconscious with a mental kick, he tried to simply rip out the elf's heart since seduction by all the rules was not possible, but Hans, realizing that he couldn't hit the swift faggot, pulled the object of the enemy's lust with Trail. The still-breathing Tia, who had slowly begun to grope herself through her elven armor, fell on her ass on the paving stone next to Hans, who had not gotten up, while Taria finished speaking the activator phrase for her artifact.

A shot that always hits the target, that can't be dodged, that can't be hidden behind an obstacle.... went straight into the soul of some cultist who volunteered to replace the devil for a split second. Just long enough for the blow to go through. Blinking toward the still defenseless Tia and the equally defenseless Hans sitting on the paving stones, in the blink of an eye, the illusionless Taria, whom Hans had replaced with Tia at the last moment, was in front of him. And she had already managed to make her clothes completely transparent by pouring on them the composition I had created beforehand, for the sake of which I had to impregnate the clothes themselves with the second part of the potion.

The gipnotits didn't break almost Legend, but she slowed for a few seconds, just long enough for Hans to catch the dagger Losius had thrown and pulled it from the elf's relaxed hand, then stepped behind the frozen freak and stabbed it six times into his sternum. The shriek of pleasure and agony of such a thing would have killed the tracker with a guarantee, but alas, he did not have time to shriek, melting too quickly.

My group managed to deal with the enemy group, but I was just getting started. It took less than ten seconds from the beginning of the fight, and the creatures inside the cloud were rapidly crushing, tearing, and neutralizing it because, with their levels, it would be strange if they didn't have the right skill or a soul prepared just for such a case.

They pressed on, probably chuckling at the fool who had bound himself with his charms, which now made it impossible for him to retreat. Until the moment the fool finished forming his charms and struck again, continuing the old rather than creating a new attack. Manifestation gave a link to every shadow, the usual kind of shadow, around our battle site. It also helped to bind parts of my charms to those shadows. With Creation, I slightly modified my enchantments, giving them several properties of Shadows that were no longer two-dimensional. Including the reflexive urge to claw at someone's soul if they were nearby.

And then the cloud of blackness spread out in thousands of ribbons, each one connected to one of the normal shadows. It was like thousands of chains that had bound the devils and nailed them to the ground so the devils wouldn't break them. Except they didn't need to be torn, they were tearing. They wanted to become the ordinary shadows from which they had been created. They wanted to dive into these shadows and regain two-dimensionality, but they could not let go of the souls and magic of the devils they had already touched. They would not let go of the souls and magic of the monsters they had already touched, not until the energy that held them there was exhausted by the desperate resistance of the creatures, who had broken the spell and set my trap in motion.

With a whisper and a rustle, the shadows returned to their normal position.... taking with them pieces of the energy bodies of those whom they had previously embraced and restrained. It was as if they had torn the gum off themselves, only with bits of essence. The cry was synchronized and indignant-ecstatic, quickly silenced when the creatures' agony was over. Only the blue-skinned thing remained intact, having managed to get around the loss of some part of the sonm by sticking it on ribbons of shadow instead of its flesh. She managed to recognize my trap in a moment. She realize the essence of my charms, and endured it with minimal losses, even if she didn't want to save or help her "allies."

She looks at me silently, with no attempt to affect me mentally, with a surprisingly serious and seductive expression on her face at the same time.

I looked at her from under my favorite mask, just as she did, not trying to attack, curse through stealing shadows, or confuse her with Dreams.

My clairvoyance and the souls of the seers who served it looked at each other, searching for weakness but finding only dumb defenses. Cold, hunger, and hatred scorched the minds of the seduced seers, forcing them to stay away. Lust and promises that were all too easy to believe made it harder. Forces to spend more energy on defense, preventing me from looking deeper.

I tilt my head slightly to the side and step forward without a word, going straight into a shadow step. I have something to say, and I can see the possibility of confusing her and making her wrong, but I don't see the point. There's no space for words here and no sense in words.

Both she and I had already told each other everything we wished for.

I didn't get out of the step, which was much harder than usual in the barrier, but only after reducing the distance to half. And on the way out, I immediately attacked, raising all the available shadows behind me, turning them into a real shaft, a sea wave of the blackest color, from which shadow stakes, spears, and hooks were sticking out in a dense frequency. At the same time, I drew more air into my newly expanded chest. I was going even more into the Form, growing ten centimeters even though it was not visible under the clothes. The blow I put into my breath, a long and very thin, like a dental floss, a sickle of concentrated destruction, went a little ahead of the wave, hiding under the extra-existence and the simple spit of a shadowy blot that I had already demonstrated earlier.

The wave was met by a wall of pure Light. It was as if I was seeing a bald and huge cleric whose soul was writhing in ecstasy as the Elder Mistress drew strength from him. The sickle was tangled in a labyrinth of frenzied space, summoned by another soul belonging to a once mighty elven mage, and the blot was swept aside by the graceful movement of a blue brush that shrouded itself in a violet barrier. The shadow was eager to devour the captured souls that created such strong defenses, but this bitch could afford to invest many times more power than I did, ignoring the superiority in net power per unit of energy. She wasn't one to be afraid of planar contamination, and she had unlimited, if not unlimited, credit on the total bank of souls her domain owned.

She steps towards me, followed by a bear made of pure flame and red-hot bronze. She waves her hand, and a thousand ice birds fly from it, each of them containing powerful and purely physical explosive charms. She smiles as she unclenches her lips, and another sophisticated conceptual crap descends upon the mind. A legendary monster with experience, the kind that even Tia, who has already been brought to her senses and dragged away from the site of my duel, would make me feel like a little girl. And also with an endless flow of energy. Today she has carte blanche for any spending, and the reserve of power of the whole domain is incomparable to the forces of me alone.

The bear dies as I create a black ball buzzing with invested power in my palm, which disappears with a quiet pop, and a shadow geyser erupts from beneath the bear, or rather from its shadow barely recognizable by the light of the flame, scattering hundreds of shadow hooks, ribbons, and half-intelligent worms that have become Shadows for a moment. As someone's contract, torn out along with a piece of soul, takes its last step, the shadow of the nearest house thickens under my feet, submitting to the will of the Manifestation, and then begins to rapidly draw air into itself, pushing birds flying over the gap into it as if gravity had increased a thousandfold. The strange mental technique only touches my mind and is immediately consumed by a chorus of screams and laughter, but my soul remains chewed up and untouchable. The Shadow that longs for me will not let anything else into that soul while there is still something to keep out.

I step forward, launching one shadowy lance after another, each one carrying a different filling within it. Embedded Shadow, ribbons, clouds, blotches, rifts in space. I try not to repeat myself, not to maintain a clear rhythm. Simultaneously with the spears behind my back, the Shadows appear, and the number of them grows and grows. There are no strong inhabitants in the barrier space, or they are prudently hiding and waiting, and my call is now barely a quarter of its strength - too much concentration is taken away by the battle. One more step forward, and the entire summoned pack rushes into battle, driven by my will and fear of me, attacking an enemy too strong for them, fearing me more than them. At the same time as the order to torment, I create a hundred seemingly simple spears and arrows in a broad front just behind the horde.

She, too, steps closer, with a net of pure light cutting every single Shadow into rapidly melting pieces, shuffling the souls under her control with incredible speed. First Light, then space, then the soul of some dwarven malefic to stabilize reality and prevent the Shadows from diving into the native plane, then Light again, but some other, different soul summoned. She redirects the stream of simple copies with a slight smile behind her back, seducing the space itself with her vice, where they tear apart the house where the blot she had knocked off earlier had fallen. There was even someone hiding there, I think.

Her smile is understandable. I overestimated myself and forgot I wasn't attacking mere humans but a legendary creature. The reason is clear, and the smile is insultingly justified. I step forward, perhaps too sharply, simultaneously beating off the light net with a wide cloth of shadows, throwing the cloth aside, taking a flaming spear on the segment barrier and disembodied with apt shadow arrows a dozen of souls howling with continuous pleasure, inside each of which sleeps a contract curse. If you touch even one of them, the obligations of these unfortunate souls will be transferred to you, forcing you to obey the mistress of these souls.

Every second more effects are pressed upon my mind, also not repetitive and different. Compulsion, sleeping madness, loving charms, and even attempts to put various fetishes in. Hardcore coprophagia? Really fucking serious? I'd tell her to fuck off, but she'll go for it! All these grimaces are, at most, a little slowing and distracting, but they can't get past the heroic protection hardened by close contact with two planes. The creature, for whom such effects are the most natural and easy to perform, seemed content with even that brief slowness/

She stops my counterattack, stepping forward and calling again the contracts of others, whose contractors are now screaming in her sonm, while trying to enclose me in a cage of distorted space, with a blanket of fire on top and several man-made suns shining below. The soul of that cleric is apparently a bit tired, and she doesn't want to burn it out, so I don't see any pure Light right now. For a second, her smile becomes even more charming. I unequivocally swam and began to lose momentum. In vain, the man decided to fight her in a forceful confrontation. This is the kind of duel spells experience and arsenal she has much wider.

The companions who had received my signal had long since moved to distant positions and were ready to intervene, with plenty of time to recover a little. But there was no need for that. She was close enough. My heart thumped for the eleventh time since our one-on-one duel had begun when I'd cast Shadow on the space around me.

The small suns were extinguished, not daring to give their rays to the place where Shadow ruled. The blanket of flame faded and fell with fading petals as the undeniable law of darkness and hunger forbade it to blaze. Space fell into place with an inaudible click, and the defenses didn't even shudder at the activation of the trap that should have, like my trick earlier, dragged pieces of me to the pieces of space that had returned to its original place. The creature's smile became so sweet that all the lemons in the world would not be enough to extinguish it. The devil is enjoying our fight like a good fuck, like she's being fucked in every hole with a three-meter dildo right now.

A simultaneous step towards me. She's sure I've opened up, and I don't have time to create a new attack while the creature is already preparing some purely racial crap that isn't tied to captured souls. And I'm smiling beneath my mask when, right behind her back, where the wreckage of a building destroyed by that beautifully deflected series of spears lies, a chasm opens up into the Shadow.

A very deep Shadow.

The reason those spears were so weak was that I spent all my strength on feeling them as a part of me, literally merging with them. It was dangerous and risky, especially around such a powerful mentalist and love mage, but it was sudden and effective. The shadow power flows I control to serve as a bridge to subdue the space and energy in the rift, spilling it out in dozens of thin but incredibly dense ribbons-chains, trying to wrap them around the legendary creature and send it as deep as possible. I have, you know, some positive experiences with this!

It failed.

In an almost dancing motion, her blue tits wiggling with excitement, the devil managed to erect her own segmental defense around her. It's like fifty fucking ghosts, building a dome out of their transparent bodies, into which the chains are embedded. The shadow power dissolves souls, tearing them apart, giving them pain, death, and freedom into oblivion, but it has bought time.

I'm not risking a step through the Shadow. The space is too disturbed now, torn by the rift, by the still-unresolved Manifestation, and by the remnants of her spatial vortex. I'll try to take a step, but I'll fall right down to the very depth where I'm trying to throw the blue bitch. And it's not my neighborhood and very, very angry boys. That's why my dash is purely physical, accelerated by the Form. I thought about using the Moment of Eternity, but then I'd lose control of the breach and the chains, and it might collapse. And it would be all right, but if the "clap" spewed a flood of shadows into the city, it would make uncomfortably even those who had time to flee.

She's very fast.

She's just a beautiful, rotten filth.

Another mesh network of Sun and Light at once. By some miracle, it's not conflicting because of the two planar energies... Oh, yeah. It was the miracle of the ecstatic soul of a priest whose god used aspects of those realms that kept them from exploding on contact. She thinks I'm more of a mage, perhaps skilled in some sort of close combat tricks. She's sure I was counting on immobilizing her, which is why I tried to shorten the distance so I could hit her with something bulky but strong, literally right in front of her.

When I take my full form, stretching into a thin snake that slips between the mesh of the net, the smile of ecstasy on her face is replaced by a slight surprise and pleasure at being able to make her feel that surprise. She seems to want me in a very special way, but that doesn't flatter my inner macho man at all. The slight surprise is replaced by a not-so-slight surprise. There's a flicker of something remotely like fear on her face as the snake changes shape again. But the jump to its throat continues no longer a man, but an eight-meter long multi-armed and multi-eyed monster, against the background of which the creature with all its height looks only like a little girl next to a maternal polar bear. A very angry bear.

The final, most concentrated Form, every claw of which is now in battle mode, is impossibly fast. I put all my will into the wish to be faster, more flexible, and more nimble. And the creature, which at this moment realized that it was not a mortal but a more terrible creature, had no time to dodge. Its claws, whose every movement cut the very fabric of existence, were about to claw at the blue flesh when it made its move.

She couldn't dodge, and any possible blink, even if she decided to do so in this spatial mess, was stopped by my increasingly powerful Manifestation. She had no time to attack, no time to escape, no time to mount a defense. There was no time for anything. The creature inside me laughed triumphantly, howling and shrieking to take the naked souls it carried, the souls that made it my food, that could dull my eternal hunger, if only for a moment. The claws of the first two paws were about to touch the blue skin when...

,,,beauty is untouchable.

...somewhere deep in Hell, where the heart of her domain is located, her power took several hundred special souls, and her Souverign's will did not forbid their taking. These souls belonged to a variety of ministers of one very interesting cult that worshipped Beauty itself. An entity as old as the almighty Fortuna, but far less powerful and dangerous. But even the completely unfit-for-battle worshippers of this power had their trump cards and now, when all those hundreds of souls collected over centuries had dissolved into Lust, the sacred right was available to one deviless. After all, she was beautiful in her own way too.

Beauty is untouchable.

It was one of the Laws, even if its manifestation was far away from the games of Time, Fortune, or Fate in terms of pure power. But now, for a brief moment, harming the triumphantly smiling creature was impossible. Magic would fall away in impotence, steel would be stopped a moment before it struck, and curses would not touch it, not daring to latch onto her essence. Because Beauty is untouchable.

And if there had been a true adept of this path, one who had reached such a level, who had been given such a right, I would have felt bad, for the defense would not have prevented the deviless from attacking. Even yesterday, I would have sprawled on top of her, obeying the prohibition, unable even to burn her with my touch.

But today...

A cry of triumph and primal, chthonic hatred of which nothing but Shadows are capable, and the claws of the enhanced Form, claws capable of slashing and tearing even through mythical or conceptual defenses, came up against such a defense. Mythical and conceptual, and perhaps even divine, if that term is applied to the devil. And though in another situation the creature would have been torn apart by the blows of Me-We-Shadow, the look on its face when my claws broke through the barrier with an impossible and unbearable gnashing sound, leaving long cuts on its beautiful body was truly priceless.

With a scream that didn't show pleasure for the first time, she stopped preparing an attack that would make me stiffen or kill me, pushing reality beneath me and disappearing in a very unusual blink. It resembled the movement of my familiar bloodsucker, but if the latter paid reality with blood essence, giving the universe a payment for moving from one point to another, the deviless paid with souls. And the purchasing power of the whole soul is much higher even in the harsh reality, not to mention the space of the barrier, where it is closer to Hell than to Reality.

Through the Manifestation, I sensed her point of arrival at once, instantly assuming first a fully human form, and then, once again turning into an equally fast but different-looking Shadow, attacking again until she came to her senses. The glow of the purple sky was fading rapidly, and not only because in Form, vision is always monochromatic. I was increasingly Manifesting the surrounding space, trying to prevent another escape of fleeing prey while simultaneously trying to suppress the creature within me from devouring all those sweet souls with the Grip.

She was wounded, and those wounds wouldn't stop bleeding and even seemed to expand. The same modifications of the completed Form, turning every scratch inflicted in this mode into a monstrously powerful curse and poison. She stirred, confused and a little scared, but she didn't enjoy it any less. The very fact that her enemy is so powerful is already a pleasure, for only by breaking and subjugating, corrupting, and defiling me will she know the very ecstasy that her kind seeks from birth to death.

We draw closer again, and she attacks again, opening her mouth and, with a scream of orgasmic pleasure, spitting out a golden-pink needle. She's taken into account my near total invulnerability to her Vicious as well as my mental fortitude, so now, it's no subtle impact whatsoever, which will burn through my defenses without even slowing me down. She's already tried all these cunning and otherwise irresistible techniques, acting in the exact opposite way. This needle is such concentrated Lust that even I would feel sick if it hit me. Or good, if you look at it that way. Because even my defenses, backed up by my Form, can't digest that much that fast. It will hurt both mind and soul, even if only for a moment, but only the devil knows what this abomination will do at that moment, what it will change, and what it will leave behind.

The moment the needle almost touches me not even trying to dodge it, I become completely two-dimensional, completely unreal. An ordinary shadow is pointless to hit and impossible to destroy. As long as there is light to fall on, as long as there is darkness in the world, as long as there are shadows, there will be me. The surprise and shock were weaker the second time, but the desperate cry of pain, which even she could not turn into ecstasy, became music to my ears. Music is so sweet that there was simply nothing in the world sweeter, except for the souls I had ripped out of her. I held this cluster of gold in my multi-jointed hand, looked at it with dozens of eyes, breathed with dozens of mouths, but at that moment, when I clenched my fist, breaking the bonds and sending these souls to freedom, even if they will be there for a very short time because of the alien sky, pulling all the souls of the fallen into itself and Hell... I had no difficulty in giving up the treasure so coveted by my nature.

I'm getting used to it, I guess.

A brief exchange of on-duty banter, an equally hurried cheers, raised with a vial of potion in hand to extend, renew and adjust our reinforcements, and so our company moved forward, continuing their largely futile and hopeless battle for their own and others' souls. Sensorics was already failing from the sheer amount of really strong magic belonging to both humans and Devils. We were moving towards one of the centers of the ritual, where the legendary creatures were most numerous and where the largest defense forces were located, who also hoped to prevent the creatures from triumphing.

We had defeated this previous squad, one of the elite ones, since it had its legend and another freak who almost became one, not without difficulty, not without a lot of opportunities to die, if not all at once, then to lose some of us. But somehow, we all, even Tia, wanted to simply and humanly believe in a good ending. Because sometimes people like us have nothing left to believe in but ourselves.

We moved toward one of the points of concentration of enemy forces in complete silence, not saying a word to each other, only believing in each of us as we believed in ourselves. It was only when we reached the roof of the small tower, now melted by the explosion inside and the mass charms outside, and looked around at the madness of the territory around us that Taria broke the cozy and trusting silence:

Well, that's fucking fucked up!

No one answered her, but in our hearts, each of us agreed.

The sky was shining ever brighter.

* * *

Author's Note:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bqhN6vChh2lkD_Hym4Kn9qzhtFDer4ej/view?usp=sharing - One of Blue's concepts.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wrOqWWcWfQ5sqgC2Tb3_ATCeLGSsjTbc/view?usp=sharing - Another variant of the Blue concept.

https://image.shutterstock.com/image-photo/mystical-woods-park-fog-littl-600w-1041171619.jpg - In this park, Tia has arranged for cultists to recycle for compost.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dcOF-u79Es-RR72qq5bT7_4NNeNT1sGW/view?usp=sharing - As a variation of the same park.

https://pikabu.ru/story/batya_znaet_tolk_v_kulinarii_4598860 - About the platter of Taria's difficult childhood, where there were worse things than wooden toys nailed to the ceiling. And those were gone, too.

There are so many dice that I want to cry at the mention of them. They won't fit here anyway, so look for them in the second (ideally) comment.

* * *

Well, this chapter is over, and my nerves are approaching a dangerous limit.

The dice are really a lot, as I roll not only on the MC party but on the whole city. Crit was enough, as well as anti-crit, but, as usual, the reason for this was the presence of strong bonuses and disadvantages.

The hero is almost fully invested in combat power. This may give him the advantages he needs to survive, but the consequences of this (54) are quite unpleasant. No matter how the situation ends, it may take him a long time to recover and it's good if he doesn't lose his marbles in combat.

MC's visions, as if paying off for past failures, were hit with very high rolls, if not with crits, adding considerable bonuses to them (from +10 to +23 in the most successful case). The trick with the trap for fugitives through the planes he immediately opened (84+15) right up to the last layer. He didn't see the layer itself, but even knowing about its presence can help a lot and prevent the same Armada from being wasted.

Potions went smoothly - only Tia had a chance of getting in trouble there, but MC managed it, as did Tia's paranoia about not wanting to burst from improperly mixed concoctions. She also gave a +10 bonus, standing over the hero's head the whole time and asking-asking-asking.

The first battle - no problem, just point out almost a hundred for Losius even without bonuses. And also a crit with bonuses (+35) for MC when he deceived the devils' hunch. Also, Tia in the park worked for a hundred, although there are also bonuses.

Actually, the most hectic fight was between the group of MC and those who managed to break through to them. Kostik himself and his blue opponent had much less difficulty in counting. Rolling group fights is fucked up. Rolling group fights at a group... fuck it.

The most memorable failures of "ours" have been:

- Taria (27-30), who couldn't even realize she'd been brainwashed. To be fair, it was a really cool brainwashing trick, but it didn't make it any easier. If it wasn't for Tin, who gave her a moment of freedom (46 and 61 with a lot of coefficients), and Losius (98 also with coefficients), who performed an exquisite exorcism on the fly, everything would have been much more complicated and sad.

- Hans, who started well (74, 68, 71), but for four very successful rolls of the deviless was subdued without even noticing it (he roll out, with a lot of minuses: 16, 43, 22, 10).

- Tia was spammed with porn banners (1, 1, 3 - the worst series in the chapter and probably in the whole book; it should be taken into account that it was three different rolls, not one arch failure). Here, too, we need to sweeten the pill, for it was a very cool brainiac who had time to prepare, study her defenses, and hit her at the very moment. There are such bonuses for him and disadvantages for her that it's just a shame for eared one.

That 49th, to be honest, had every chance to take down the whole group. He had managed to study everyone. Even before the attack, he found arguments against everything, including Valerium and the Golden Needle, though Losius didn't even reach for it. If it wasn't for the desire to get Tia whole and not Hestia.

Our Misty's brains weren't scrambled with dickpicks, so she made him distracted at the wrong time, and then it was a quick-thinking, albeit exhausted Hans and Taria who got the сrit. A few very good rolls in a row and a clean crit from Hans on the fatal blow. So pure (100 and 66) that the creature didn't even have time to squeal. But the same Taria who had her shadow stealer blown away by an exorcism with heaven power could have been killed!

In the fight with MC, there were about (I'm too lazy to count exactly) two hundred rolls. Every time they threw a series of attacks at each other, I howled like a wolf. But it is impossible to reduce the number of attacks - after all, he is fighting against a legend.

The most notable moment was an attempt to perform Tin's favorite trick of dragging into the Shadow and, of course, Blue's almost successful attempt to cosplay Ashtar-Inanna, if you know what I mean.

If she had access to even a couple dozen more Beauty worshippers, the fight would have dragged on for another seven pages. She wouldn't have been able to hit MC under Aegis, but he wouldn't have been able to hit her until the defense was down. Even Aegis's ultimate requires a touch, albeit with caveats.

Pushed through, torn, ripped out the soul and, despite the disadvantages to everything rolled 71 - not crit, but humanity stand. If it were not for the minuses would be almost-almost crit, but so he only smiled with all the mouths. Like, I did not stoop to the soul-devouring in the worst situations, and now I will not.

That's it, damn.

Thanks to everyone who reads, comments, and congrats.

Happy New Year!

P.S. Covid is dangerous, fireworks are beautiful. Keep your masks on, don't play hentai in front of minors, tie your shoelaces, and don't play music at full volume in the middle of the night. Good night, everybody.