Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Chapter 1

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"Understand, Tin, it's a necessity! That's what all self-respecting individuals do!" It seemed as if Losius was talking to a capricious child, and not to the mighty and magnificent Hero. "Come on, you have to make this sacrifice, don't start this comedy again."

I just stared silently into the eyes of the infernal beast, which, in turn, stared at me. I could read in its gaze the promise of eating my insides and dancing a ritual dance on the graves of all my relatives. The creature stared nonchalantly, squinting contemptuously at the only eye turned in my direction, and even the all-powerful admins did not know what nightmarish plans resided in its ugly skull. What torments was it planning to inflict on me, what nightmares was it planning to enact? I have no idea, but I know firmly that I will hold the defense until the end. Heroes do not surrender, and a true Hero must hold firm even with such an insidious and treacherous blow.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Tin! It's just a horse! Get on it and don't act like a demon-knows-what!" Hans, as always, interrupts my inner monologue with a completely vulgar address. "Stop fucking pretending! With your dexterity, you can not only ride, but you can run on water! We're already delaying the departure!"

The silent reproach in Losius's eyes and Taria's monstrous attempts to restrain the laughter that bursts forth only make me angry. Well, I can't ride horses, or donkeys, or camels! I have never even tried! I only rode an elephant once, when I was drunk, but I had an instructor to help me. Besides, I don't see any elephants here, but I see some bloody horses.

"Why don't we just buy a wagon?" I timidly ask my team. "Or even a stagecoach?"

This time, all three of them were staring fearfully at me at the same time. In fact, inwardly I had already reconciled myself to the need to sacrifice my butt to those infernal creatures... Silence, hussars! In another sense, sacrifice!

"All right, all right. Bring this nightmare of the underworld to me, I'm going to make a sausage out of it, the bastard." I'm forced to surrender to the mercy of the victors, causing my companions to smile happily. "Although I still think you could let me run after you in peace, my speed allows."

In response to my grumbling, Losius only put his hand to his face and, with a kind of desperation in his voice, uttered a phrase filled with sincere pain for my intellect:

"Tin, just understand that this skill is a basic one for all wealthy travelers of any kind. Yes, you can run after us, I don't argue with that for a moment, I swear to Heaven. But you yourself have talked so much about disguise and pretense! You'll have to ride a horse under the gaze of the guards one day, just to get into town, and you don't even have the skill! Agree, it's easier to practice it now than to regret lost opportunities later."

No, there is some logic in what he said, and I agree. Our mini-caravan of eight horses (four saddles, adapted to long crossings, and four pack horses) was comfortable. The bulky laboratory had to be stored in one of Ostmark's warehouses, but I still had the alchemist's most easily portable tools. And the speed on horseback is quite decent and, importantly, the same for everyone, not just for high-level me.

Taria, too, by the way, had not been able to ride a horse before, but she had learned rather quickly, which was obviously an obscene amount of pride. I, on the other hand, like a real Hero, stood out here as well, failing to acquire what seemed to be a fairly easy skill to master, despite all my attempts. I got the feeling that the horses quietly hated me. I could understand if they were afraid of me because of my shadow class, but not a shred of fear. Just tons of contempt and arrogant snark! Some kind of fucking anti-talent, really.

I will not describe the process of acquiring a new skill, so as not to torture myself or people. I will only say that high dexterity allowed me to avoid the most embarrassing falls and other shit, but no dexterity prevented the damn animal from turning the trip into a continuous war of survival. The horse only calmed down after almost two hours, and that was due to fatigue, not because it recognized me as its master. Even though my riding skills showed in my status, there was a promise of vengeance and torment in the horse's eyes.

I hate horses.

Almost like goblins.

We didn't leave Ostmark immediately. The first thing we did was drink for almost a week - I even managed to get drunk out of my mind by diving headfirst into a barrel of dwarf water I'd bought for this purpose. The three merchants who argued with me about it were shocked, but they had to pay for the barrel and give a tenth of gold to the winner, for I was still on my feet.

I had to protect my eyes with a shadow, otherwise, they would have been damaged by such a high-degree drink, but I didn't cheat at all. The barrel, of course, was physically impossible to drink, but I managed about four liters in one gulp. In the previous world, I would have died, but in this one, I almost threw up. But in my drunken state, I was able to offset the discontent of the merchants, who felt cheated, by throwing a real feast for the whole inn. That was why they had been partying like idiots for a week. I wasted my winnings, but I had a good party and swore not to get drunk.

I used to be a mere wimp, at most capable of causing drunken mayhem. My current drunken debauchery might well have ended in a breakthrough to The Shadow's plan. In fact, it almost ended when I decided to summon female Shadows from there, and then test my ring on them. It was lucky that I decided to use my steps to get to the back of the tavern as quickly as possible. Being on another plane sobered me up instantly and qualitatively. So I was back in the hall without the shadowy chicks, sober, a little scared, and a bit angry.

I didn't dive into the barrels again, though I was asked to do it again for an encore. Fortunately, no one was surprised by the celebration itself, because our company of us looked like an ordinary team of adventurers. Even I, albeit with reservations - the clothes didn't fit. Taria, as the lowest-level, was sitting quietly in the corner, sipping light wine, hatching insidious plans to seduce me (clairvoyance told me to). To her great regret, she missed the only moment when I was really drunk, and I did not give her any more such chances.

But she took me dancing, to the sound of some infernal instrument (that's the real sickness!) that resembled a bagpipe and a saxophone at the same time. The bard played his trills, and we danced almost until we collapsed. That is, I just danced, and Taria did until she collapsed. I had to drag her back to the same place in my arms, to the resounding hooting of the crowd. I'll bet you a hundred gold pieces that she could still walk, but she decided to trick me into "holding" her. The sly little beast.

The beauty of a woman who had become really beautiful drew a lot of attention, and some overzealous craftsmen wanted to fist my face. While they were getting their kicks from me and Hans, who sensed the fun, the far more frisky guys from the guards were coming at Taria. I was honestly going to help the maiden unobtrusively dragged away to the nearest closet, but I caught her smiling look and a mischievous wink and then got a flash of clairvoyance.

Male solidarity seemed to demand that I stop my subordinate from committing vigilante acts, but my inner troll took solidarity by the throat and demanded that I calm down under the threat of a firing squad. I didn't feel much pity for these unfortunate (in this particular case, unfortunate) rapists, either, to prevent Taria from venting her anger on the social group she disliked most. She didn't even hate the nobles as much as she hated the guards who were overly fond of taking advantage of their position. So I gave her the thumbs up and let them drag her into the back room. I thought I even turned a little green.

A few minutes later, all four guards quietly walked out of that closet through the back door (located there specifically for such situations), and the bandit went back into the common room, fixing her dress in place. The rapists themselves went to their department of guards to strengthen the men's friendship to the level of a Brokeback Mountain. I wished them all good luck in clearing their chimneys, and I put the situation out of my mind and ordered myself to forget it like a nightmare and never to think of it again.

I also decided not to piss off Taria, who was smiling a truly sinister smile at that moment. Almost no one was on their feet until morning, except for the moderately tipsy Losius and me. Hans, like Taria, had had too much to drink, so we had to carry them to their rooms.

And then, having put the girl to the bed and even prepared some hangover and intoxication potions just in case, I remembered about such a thing as conspiracy and began to hand out imaginary slaps and smacks to myself. Holy shit, Kostik, you did not attract attention! You're right, you're laying low, and you're keeping your head down.

I had to go to bed, go to the Dreams, and then start correcting my messes. To my unbelievable relief, no one noticed any particular weirdness about us. Well, almost no one. And for those who did notice something, I tweaked their memories a bit, blurring them into a "remember nothing but drunken lunacy" state. It was especially hard on those merchants, for whom no amount of booze could take away the surprise of seeing me drop my head into a barrel of almost pure alcohol.

Later on, the party continued in much more humble surroundings and company. We drank, ate, shared stories (Taria led me to retell the plot of a couple of crime thrillers, adjusted for fantasy realities), and just relaxed from the constant stream of f*cking crap that had been piled on our company lately.

Taria, by the way, tried desperately to drag me into the bathhouse together, and I didn't mind, but I remembered her hypno-boobs in time and decided not to take the risk. I could, of course, sit with my Gaze on all the time, but why would I need such a bathhouse, honestly?

We went to the brothel, though without much enthusiasm on my part. I was dragged there, almost by force, under the hurt and jealous gaze of Taria. She must have promised herself every possible punishment for Hans, who had initiated our trip. And then the lass joined us for company, and at my indignant glance, she just turned up her nose and smugly assured everyone present that she was also all right with the ladies.

I even remembered something like that when I was poking around in her memory, but it seemed to me that she liked guys more. I was about to get indignant, but then I spit it out - if she wanted to go fuck whores to spite me, let her go and fuck them. I would not even say a word to her if she decided to get a boyfriend, but here, alas, even without clairvoyance, I was clearly convinced that I was the only person she was interested in. And she wasn't going to change her mind until I decided to set her up with someone else.

I was about to indulge in debauchery when fate once again threw us into trouble. Actually, Losius and Hans had quietly entered the brothel (one of the best in Ostmark, but not the best, because I didn't want to bother with invitations), but Taria and I had run into some future adventurers coming out of the brothel. I mean, literally - these degenerates were going to join the adventurers' guild of Kraj, heading in the direction we'd come from.

To their deepest regret, no one told them that the Guild did not encourage their usual ways. No, there were places where all the "adventurers" were criminals, given the choice between a hemp tie and a job on the frontier for His Majesty. Except that in Kraj they would have been rolled up in paving stones very quickly by their colleagues.

Unfortunately for us, these guys didn't make it to Kraj, were kicked out of a brothel that was too expensive for them, and were generally in a bad mood. So the suggestion that I give up my purse and the girl and run the fuck away (not literally) was met with no understanding by me. The bonded hired squad, at times not neglecting outright robbery, did not keep fools with them. In a different situation, they would not have staged a natural robbery right next to this building, on a busy and rich street.

But the two bouncers were now inside the building, coming to their senses after chasing the company away. At the same time, they were recovering one of the maids (who also moonlighted in a more obvious role), who had nearly been killed with a good hook to the jaw for her too audacious refusal to serve customers. There were no bystanders on the street at that moment, and the mercenaries reasonably thought they would be able to intimidate me enough to leave in an unknown direction before the guards arrived.

Again, they were deathly angry and suffering from blue balls, which did not add to their sanity. It could have ended relatively peacefully, even now, but the scariest of them all had the good sense to grab Taria by the collar, and then by the throat.

A normal townswoman would have panicked, but yesterday's bandit reacted reflexively the way she was used to on the streets of Kraj - with a poke of the dagger hidden in her sleeve straight into her carelessly left open neck. A ninth level, well-developed skills, even though there was no class, and good chainmail would have saved the woodpecker. But he was drunk, angry, and inadequate, so he gave my companion a level, splashing blood all over his companions.

They were still recovering for a second, but their training had taken its toll, and then they grabbed for their weapons. The loudest one even started an accusatory speech against us, shouting in foul language: "Fucking..."

Crunch.
Crunch.
Crunch.

Six sets of cervical vertebrae were broken, thanks to the silhouettes of the mercenaries themselves quickly rising from the shadows, I got a drop of experience, and all the remaining bastards fell to the ground in company with the still twitching owner of the second smile. The whole situation didn't take a second, and we were left standing in front of the seven cooling bodies. At this point of time, realizing that we had at most a couple of minutes before the next passersby appeared or the brothel guards returned, all I could do was utter: "Taria, what the (bleep) hell!"

"I went to a fucking whorehouse! To got laid! Damn it, I was fucking fucked before I even went into that whorehouse!" With the amount of venom that was in my voice right now, I could have committed a small genocide against the inhabitants of the world's oceans.

Instead of tumbling a pretty brunette (or blonde, it doesn't really matter) on my own dick, I have to drag and hide the corpses. Actually, having the ability to lift those corpses with shadows isn't that hard, but it's bothersome. Extremely fucking bothersome, especially if a few minutes ago you were not going to hide the corpses, but to fuck chicks!

And I had to remember to lick the blood dripping from the slit throat of the slain Taria with my shadow tentacles.

"You couldn't hit him in the eye so he wouldn't bleed like a fucking pig on a butcher's place?" For pedagogical purposes, I left one body for the woman, even if it wasn't the one she killed (that boar she wouldn't budge). I had to mop up the bloody path leading to the nearest alley and drag the others myself.

"Well, I'm sorry, I panicked, and my reflex kicked in." She said angrily, hiding her insecurity, her resentment, and her fear of my disappointment behind her irritation. Still, the ring works well, I wish I could meet its creator and ask him some questions on the subject. Only it would be desirable to do it on a higher level.

"I'm not mad, to be honest, it's just that the situation itself is idiotic to the extreme." When I dragged the last body into a dead-end of the main street, I admired the barely discernible traces of blood on the paving stones, as well as the fragments of someone's teeth. Apparently, we weren't the first ones to look at this place for not-so-legitimate purposes. "Seriously, what the fuck are the odds of having an adventure just by going to a fucking brothel, huh? It's like there's some dick up there somewhere, flipping a coin over and over again. If the crest falls out, there's trouble; if the portrait falls out, there's more trouble; if it's on the edge, you can relax for now, until the next flip."

T.N. We know the nick of that bastard. It starts from Avada and end to Kadavra.

So venting my soul to the listener, I began to search the bodies of these mutts, for anger is anger, and trophies must always be taken. After a miserable second, Taria joined me, with much more skill than I had, though she didn't have the characteristics and perks that made it possible to find the valuables stashed on a body in the blink of an eye.

I wonder where Hans and Losius are, who weren't even alarmed by our sudden disappearance. The clairvoyance answered at once as if it had been waiting for such a question. As it turned out, the two woodpeckers thought Taria had talked me into it, and we were huddled in the nearest alley. We're not huddled here, we're fucked!

T.N. In Russian slang, the word for having sex and doing hard work is the same.

When I'm done with the trophies, I open a small and maximally controlled hole in the Shadow, careful to make sure that no creature tries to enter the real world while I keep it open. Taria, surprisingly, showed great discretion, avoiding looking at the breach and not approaching it at all. There was no panic, by the way - it was displaced by the adrenaline and the realization that this force was under my control, and mine alone.

After pushing all the bodies into the resulting breach in record time, I wiped the sweat from my face, then looked at the equally tired and slowly beginning to shake withdrawal girl, and then spat on the brothel, picked her up, turned on stealth, and carried the beautiful maiden back to the room we rented.

The mood was irretrievably gone anyway, leaving only irritation. I thought about surrendering to Taria's siege and fucking her at last, since I hadn't gone to the brothel, but the bastard managed to fall asleep in my arms. And this even though I was jumping like a saiga, racing across the rooftops toward the right location. I wouldn't even be the least bit surprised if after that night she got the title of cock-teaser of mythical rank.

To be completely honest, I wasn't in the mood either, so I didn't wake the sleepyhead, put her to bed, and went to sleep myself.

Stupid day, stupid brothel, and really fucked up local mercenaries, managing even with their death to ruin all the plans of the poor isekai!

We packed from the city leisurely and thoroughly, buying provisions and necessities for the journey, picking up horses - bitch, I hate it, scum, - preparing bags and such. I got the work done, too, but I got my share of the alchemical and equipment done in record time. I even had time to walk through the city, visiting places of former glory.

For example, I had already almost forgotten about a couple of spineless henchmen and his bitch boss, rushing to become business sharks. And they, as observation showed, did not miss me at all. My very first mental and behavioral bombs in my career (unless you count Ygra) fell on good soil, having had time not only to germinate but also to be firmly fixed in the minds of both of them.

The guy has almost fixated on them himself, as he found himself literally in the fulfillment of his fantasies. The pervert was really enjoying the way this milf was fucking him, while at the same time lecturing him like a boy. Well, everyone has their fetishes, not for me to judge. Especially if I'm the one who had something to do with those preferences.

The merchant herself did not seem to realize that her behavior and reaction to the trigger were far from normal reaction. However, it did her good, that's for sure. It's hard to imagine how much this bundle of nerves had suffered from a severe lack of sex, but now that she regularly fucked (and didn't care that she was the woman in their pair) her underling, the lady literally blossomed.

While she rode on top of the boy on the table, giving him instructions for tomorrow's bidding, I poured a few drops of a breast enlargement potion into her glass of light wine. It would add a size or two, and it would give the guy something to look at. He'd have to look, for she never let him hold her - the quirk implanted back then had worked all too well. He can only touch her breasts with his cock, and only if she decides to jerk him off with her boobs. Even now she sometimes slaps the poor guy in the face if he lets his gaze linger on her bouncing form.

"What do you dare again, whelp!?" And so much indignation, even though she had already cum twice, without interrupting to give valuable instructions. "You're going to stare at some back alley whores, you brat! How many times do I have to slap your sniveling face to make you stop squinting your eyes at my breasts! You'll never get that, you miserable bastard, unless some slut gives it to you! Tell me again on what grounds you're going to refuse to buy the fourth batch, you idiot! Now!"

Fucking shit! He's really getting a high from this, I can be sure of that even without full immersion in dreams, just by clairvoyance. I confess I was going to tweak my previous work a bit, but now I realize that to change it here is only to spoil a masterpiece. I'll leave these two to themselves before my brains curdle.

The truth is, it was such a shattering spectacle that I didn't even have time to get excited about watching them fuck in the real world. It didn't keep me from thinking about using Taria, but the effect was incomparably diminished by the freakiness of the spectacle. Or maybe I just wasn't voyeuristic enough.

"Admit it... you're just, uh... just getting revenge for... for being, uh, forced to ride, huh, on horseback." Perhaps there would have been more accusation and resentment in Hans' voice if he hadn't wanted to cough out his lungs.

Losius preferred to be silent, saving what little breath he still had for idle bickering. And the beautiful Taria was eloquently burying her face in the ground, unable to move a single muscle. The only words she could get out were a desperate plea: "Somebody kills me."

Actually, of course, I don't avenge them. Not one little bit, believe me, people! It's just that I, as the leader of the take-over team, have a well-founded fear that this team will not be fast, strong, and skillful enough at one moment. And so I decided to give them a small and thoroughly personal training hell. You might even say it was warm and lamplight.

No kidding, I needed a clear understanding of what my companions were capable of, what they needed to master shortly, and what they had no talent for at all. High levels and several extremely powerful titles made both men extremely dangerous and quite versatile fighters. Taria, on the other hand, had little adaptability to combat, despite her rudimentary dagger skills.

After assessing the situation, I began my general training-all practicing stamina, technique, and reaction, while I was working on controlling the shadows. The old but still useful practice with shadow silhouettes allowed me to create realistic enough opponents even for Hans, not to mention Taria.

The tracker was undoubtedly fast, but not so fast that my micro-control was insufficient to keep up with the rules of the training game I had created. One short sword and dagger, six shadowy silhouettes in authentic orc form, and a slight headache from maximum concentration were a recipe for good fun. Well, good for me, and just useful for Hans.

I knew how standard and even high-level orcs or simple fighters moved and fought. I had seen enough of them to be able to replicate their most basic movements and movements with shadows. It didn't work, of course, because my constructs were not sentient, controlled directly by my will, like puppets. Which meant that I couldn't make them fight any better than I could control them. But even though their "technique" was far from at least good, they were fast and strong on impact. Just right for me to practice the tricks on them.

Controlling seven silhouettes at once was quite a task. I'm sure if I'd added just one more, my nose would have bled. But I didn't cross the line.

At first, Hans managed relatively easily - I was still getting used to the controls, confused by the movements of the individual puppets. But with each repetition, I got better and better at controlling them. When it became clear that the silhouettes that "pretend" to be regular fighters were not easy prey for Hans, but certainly not a problem, I stopped holding back.

Now the dolls behaved like beasts of prey - they grew claws, their plasticity became as efficient as possible, and the fact that I was the one who controlled them all at the same time allowed the "simulators" to work as a single organism. They were, for that matter.

After I'd had to freeze the silhouettes in place several times because their claws had stopped just inches from Hans' throat, I'd slowed down a bit and tried to let him train, not mock the tracker. If I'm to believe him, his two-handed skills and premonitions of danger were growing obscenely fast.

It was much easier with Taria, giving her the dagger in her hand and swinging the dodge from the deliberately slowed silhouette. I had to give in to her, so as not to turn the training into a farce, but I gradually accelerated the shadow-marked blows. The increase in skill was quite significant in her case, at least because she hadn't been able to do anything like that before.

Hans, whose class was only partly combat, and Taria, who had no combat experience at all, could be boosted in this way, but Losius could not. Or rather, my silhouette trick was too cumbersome and of little use. A melee-trained duelist could take them apart with little effort. No, if I'd attacked seriously, it would have been different, but I couldn't guarantee his safety. And silhouettes aren't much of a fighting technique, designed more for short-range deception than direct combat. In combat, it would be much more effective to hit with a simple whip than to mess with silhouettes.

At first, we had a bit of fun, with me hitting a few shadow ribbons and Losius ducking and chopping them apart, but it still wasn't quite the same. I had to do some serious thinking and guessing.

In the end, I decided to take the risk, but only after discussing the plan with the nobleman himself. My cautious nature was against it because I knew how it would end. I checked my supply of healing potions as usual and summoned the first lesser Shadow.

Not a silhouette I control, but The Shadow.

I was concentrating as hard as I could, and Hans and Taria were already exhausted and had a chance to rest. At any moment I could have stepped in and intercepted The Shadow - my will would have been enough to stop the creature at any moment.

Luckily, I didn't have to - Losius could do it on his own. Even a lesser Shadow is invincible to an ordinary, low-level average citizen, but not to the Chosen One of Heaven, whose class skills are so good at resisting intangible creatures. The creature's high stealth made Losius nervous at first, but after evading the first two attempts to envelop his body in a deadly shroud thanks to his sense of danger, the guy finished the creature off with a single strike of his glowing rapier.

My headache was almost imperceptible - I didn't take control of the Shadow, allowing it to act on its own (even if it was ready to intervene), so the kickback was almost minimal. The next two shadows were killed in much the same way - it's almost impossible to spot even the most miserable Shadow unless you have your perception up, but these things have to manifest in the material world before they can attack. Though I remember from the battle with the Orcs that advanced creatures can attack quite freely right from their home plane, even without having to be in reality all the time.

The third attack and the three Shadows, respectively, didn't cause much trouble either, even though they made Losius change position several times with the roly-poly. I decided to try again and to say no to all the Dark Souls because, in reality, rolls don't make you invulnerable. I summoned three Shadows again, only this time prompting one of them to attack as it rolled. The cursed guy was forced to use an extremely voracious dueling blink, and he never relaxed again. My hint was understood almost instantly - don't yawn.

Controlling four Shadows at once (strict control, not summoning) already required some effort, as did fighting them. With their clever pack-hunting skills, the Shadows gave the aristocrat no time for his attacks, forcing him to constantly dodge and change position. Ordinary creatures would not have been a problem for him, but the Shadow's bloody stealth allowed them to keep even a high-level foe in suspense.

The poor man had to pull out his own trump cards. The blue energy of the sky was an extremely effective weapon against the Shadows. The flash of the aura that illuminated the clearing where we'd been training had left Hans and Taria, deadly tired, feeling light in body and mind, and my eyes were watery and my skin itchy. The shadows were instantly knocked out of concealment and almost illuminated, three were destroyed instantly, and the fourth spat on its prey and my direct order, trying to escape. I held on, of course, and even managed to lose control before Losius disintegrated her, too, avoiding getting rolled back.

After that it was decided to end for today, for the nobleman was already visibly tired - each destruction of the Shadow required the obligatory use of the skill, for simple steel blows did not work on them. Losius's reserve allowed him a few more of these moves, but fatigue and mistakes were inexcusable. Yes, I was well aware that if you wanted to go over your threshold, you had to push yourself to the limit. But I was sure that I might not be able to contain the number of Shadows that would make him cross that threshold. I probably would, but I wasn't sure I would.

By the way, the experience from killing Shadows goes to Losius, and not just a little - creatures are rare and dangerous, despite their low rank. I wasn't even worried that the Shadows would resent me for feeding them to my comrade; I knew the nature of these things too well. No, if I were to slaughter the older, more intelligent ones, there were options, but no one cared as much as possible about the lesser ones.

Unfortunately, there is no way to imba, because the System was not created by fools. The practice of "locking a high-level monster firmly in place and then letting a first-level kid stab him with a knife" is quite real. Mostly for the very rich and powerful parents of those kids, but it exists nonetheless. Fortunately (unfortunately?), such cheaters get a tough handicap - the minimum experience, they do not get any titles, even if by some miracle nailed epic monster. At the expense of the legendary monsters is unknown, but they are legendary, that the fuck they will get reliably fixed.

If I want to grind up my group on my Shadows, I need to get them to actually fight those Shadows, albeit in a controlled environment. And such battles would be far riskier than fighting goblins, outlaws, or anything else. Not even because of the constant danger, or rather, not only because of it. It's just that the wounds from the Shadow Dwellers' attacks are almost always fatal, and if they don't kill you, they're guaranteed to cripple you. I'm not sure if my potions can repair all the damage done by the creatures. And I don't want to take any chances.

The idea of this kind of grinding will need to return when the usual one ceases to bear fruit.

Meanwhile, all that's left to do is to look at the three of them sprawled out on the ground and squint merrily. It's definitely necessary for their own sake - that's the beauty of the situation. And the fact that I came up with the idea because I wanted to get revenge for the need to communicate with the artiodactyls spawn of the abyss? It was just an accident!

"All right, ladies and gentlemen, you've had enough rest, so now we'll do one more approach, and then we can take a strengthening potion and rest. Wakey, wakey, wakey!"

The response was the synchronized moan of a swan dying while watching Titanic, and my already good mood suddenly improved to quite cosmic proportions.

I'm so good!

Such training regularly continued during stops, which reconciled me a little with my dislike of horses. I was also a little more comfortable with the fact that my riding skills were slowly increasing, threatening to reach a dozen somewhere... in my next life. Who cares about horses, for they care about me just the same! Let's get back to our rams, sheep, and moose.

T.N. Let's get back to our sheep it's like Let's get back to our business. And Losius name sounds like Moose.

In any case, the training was going on, and it was really paying off. However, no. Let's go a little further to better explain what was going on. To begin with, it is necessary to understand two simple truths. First - at the same time actively training and travel are impossible in principle. An hour during the break is not enough for anything except the usual warm-up. Second - even on horses, damn them, the road from town to town will be slow.

Our training regimen was organized into three. A day of active work to the point of exhaustion, after which we have to nurse our team with the most gentle and mildly effective potions. The next day we spend on rest and recreation, as riding in a state of permanent "f*ck kill me up" is an extremely fun, but unhealthy type of pastime. It's not until the third day that we leave so that we can practice again after the ride.

Another article is the dream training that I organize every day for the whole company. To be honest, my dreams of improving my skills right in my dreams turned out to be... not shattered, of course, but they got their wings clipped right from the start. Pretty legitimate, I guess, but I would have liked to be OP.

The first idea: to fight monsters in dreams, ended in almost total failure. The point is that the consciousness of the dreamers can only complete the monsters as we have seen them and as we imagine them to be. As a result, the creatures will not be real at all, and the experience from them will also be fake. For creating nightmares this methodology was perfect, but learning to fight phantoms was so useless that it wasn't even funny. In my dream, even a goblin could move at the speed of a bullet if I so desired. Even though I had a fair amount of knowledge about the habits of greenlings, making full-fledged training dummies of them... worked. But not very well.

I knew intuitively that there was something to work on. I realized that with further development, I will surely find an approach to creating full-fledged phantom fighters, but that time is still a long way off. There were some attempts, mostly related to the creation of maximum prescribed algorithms, but they are still to be honed and honed.

The second idea: is training with each other directly in my dreams. Here, on the contrary, I had relative success. The biggest problem was the fact that the dream obeys whoever owns it, unwittingly helping the master. There's the faster movement, there's the impossible feint, and so on. Just think of the little bastard I took out of Ostmark-when I gave him power in a particular dream, his blows always hit the creature that tormented him, though he was as good a swordsman as I am a president. It's the same here, only less obvious.

It took me quite a while to create a kind of neutral platform, rather inert to all of us at the same time. Of course, I still owned the dream, but controlling unconscious influences was much easier. As Taria said unhappily afterward, it was now impossible to disengage from me, even in a dream, as if I were the world's most vicious moneylender. I asked her if she was anti-Semitic, but I was misunderstood by the company. They had no sense of humor.

The training platform had excellent features, allowing us to fight each other without the risk of laying down our heads. The pain felt real, but a painful but not fatal awakening followed after a certain point. Such a wake-up didn't add to kindness, but it didn't threaten to kill in the dream.

I even managed to practice with Ygra, who, oddly enough, realized pretty quickly that what was happening in the dream was unreal. How, exactly, I didn't understand - it was probably because of the palette of smells I was working through after the fact. In any case, it was better for me.

The training matches, Losius, Hans, and ballast in the form of Taria against Ygra, or all of them against me, or any other combination of the two, became common pretty quickly. By the way, I have to say that it was really hard to fight against Ygra because of the main disadvantage of my idea - the inability to use energy attacks.

There was no other matter in the dream than the Dream. The same Losius was strong enough to call out to Heaven even in a dream (if I let him, of course), but as soon as the energy of the alien plan got into the Dream, the dream would immediately become unstable. Again, I'm pretty sure that there is a way around this problem, but I don't know how yet.

I ended up having to fight Ygra (who was getting high on "catch Kostya" fun) and the others almost fair. My speed allowed me to evade them all, but attacking was problematic. If Hans wasn't a particularly tough fighter, Losius was a huge problem with his picking, and Ygra ignored most of the usual punches and wounds altogether. She believed they would heal, and regeneration worked even here. She believed in the strength of her skin, and the blades slipped off her, even if only in her sleep. I could have easily squeezed her will, but then why the fuck was I even messing with them?

Only the almost-zero Taria's skills grew, and the rest of us gained experience at most. Just experience, of course, not system experience. But I realized that without shadows and steps I was far from invincible. If I had a good chance of winning against Losius and Hans, and against Ygra I did not pass in vain, then all together they successfully crushed me, forcing me to keep running away. They couldn't destroy me in my dream, but they could make me go on the defensive.

And the ogre was as happy as a cat, having first stolen the whole dairy plant, and then also taking its accounts offshore in sour currency. How about that! There are so many fun games and other "Y's" that she even started talking - I definitely heard a couple of new words. At least I was smart enough to cut off the influence of the green-skinned girl's gifted abilities. The men, collected and ready for battle, showed little reaction to the mere naked woman, except for the most fleeting glances. And after I'd created a filter that made the ogre seem clothed to everyone but myself, the problem was over.

Of course, I couldn't hold such marathons every night because the mind couldn't take it, and it wasn't mine at all. So, once every three or four days, usually after training in the physical world, to work off what we had learned. The rest of the days I took my companions on excursions to all the beautiful places I could remember, refreshing their memory of cinema at the same time. Taria loved Pirates of the Caribbean, and Losius loved Lord of the Rings. Hans liked everything, but he barely managed to get me to turn on the porno - it was obvious that he was a normal person.

The last idea, which was to teach fencing and other things from the comfort of Dream was a success. Almost, because there were still some problems. Even if you practiced a thousand strokes in your sleep, in reality, your body would be unaccustomed to the moves you'd learned. You know exactly how to hit, but you can't do it right. You'll be able to practice the techniques again, in reality, more easily, but that's about it. You will have to get used to the movements, and only then work with the new knowledge.

Expected and even useful. In fact, that's exactly how the training went: first reality, to let the body feel exactly how to strike, and then a long and sad repetition in the dreams. It would seem to be a small thing, but what a result! It was difficult to take levels in this way, but it was the best way to improve skills. Just look at Taria, who had been (and had even developed) an apprentice rank in danger sense and daggers, to realize the prospects.

A particular pain for Hans and Losius was learning their title. I'm talking about the Hero's Companion if you will. Among other things, the title made it easier to develop skills, as the boys themselves suspected. In many ways, Taria's progress was so fast because of it. But the fact that this title raised the natural development of characteristics to half the normal level infuriated them immensely. Thanks to their own grinding and titles, they'd long since crossed that line. Taria, on the other hand, was now keeping her five points for the level she'd taken in Ostmark, shedding a hundred sweats to get her basic characteristics up to twenty.

Relatively successful.

So far, only dexterity and endurance have been closed, barely touching the magical characteristics. Perception had been developed even earlier. She planned to focus further on this characteristic. On the one hand, we already have a sensor - me, but on the other hand, I wasn't going to interfere with her choice. If she wanted to develop perception, then let her develop it.

Oh yes, she also got her first title of her own, the Zealous Recruit. The rare title reduced stamina consumption during training and increased stamina efficiency by a paltry amount. The title also gave her a point in each stat, which pleased the girl, who had never received such gifts from the System before. She even almost forgave me the whole marathon, especially since I was careful to make sure that all the stresses given to her had no consequences.

That's how our journey has gone - slowly, unhurriedly, and fruitfully - for almost three weeks now. We haven't traveled much, of course-about a week's fast track - but we're not in a hurry to get anywhere yet.

Carpe diem [1] as is.

We live while we can.

As long as there is something to rejoice in.

We intentionally tried to go off the beaten path. It was just because it was easy to avoid unnecessary eyes and find a cozy place to practice without being looked at too much. I wasn't the only one who needed to practice my abilities. Losius was practicing his heavenly techniques, too, and they were very noticeable purely visually, especially in comparison to my shadows.

Our approach is risky for ordinary travelers because it's easy to get stranded on such back roads. Even the seemingly peaceful locals may assess a lone traveler as suitable prey. And if it's not in the village, they will send men to meet on the road. And I'm only talking about the relatively peaceful locals! But some villages are not peaceful at all, where they live by robbery. The life of the peasantry is hungry, angry, and shitty, which is why many decide to go to the thugs simply because they have no choice. And they're easy prey, fast levels and a sense of omnipotence quickly turn such people into complete scum.

"I've seen so many such villages burned down, Tin." Hans spat on the ground, almost boiling with anger. "Only a few of those bastards survive by jumping out in time. Most die like dogs. And their wives and kids end up in the pit or slavery. They never feel pity for them - everyone remembers what their fathers, brothers, and sons did. Sons of bitches."

Hans' almost complete lack of profanity and grim, stale hatred seems rather frightening. Apparently, the simple country boy had seen the truth of life from both sides of the conflict. He was no outlaw himself, I knew that for sure, thanks to clairvoyance, but several of his childhood friends had been lured away with promises of a mountain of gold. They laughed at the young hunter, boasting of the silver and memorable trophies taken from the bodies of past owners. Then the same young guys were still hanging out on branches along the roads, having not saved up the proverbial "for life, so that they would have enough for their grandchildren".

I remembered all this just now, as I looked around with Hans. In this clearing where we were now nestled, someone had recently been murdered. The pathfinder must have seen it with his skills, and I perceived the small details with an inquisitive eye and a Gaze that showed the bloodstains where someone's life had been taken.

Losius and Taria had no such skills, but they picked up on our mood, dismounting immediately and grabbing their weapons. My sphere, of course, did not sense anyone, but the fact that there were bandits near us was irrefutable.

It's the best fucking time for another adventure.

After all, what the fuck am I an accidental traveler if I've never saved a princess from an outlaw?

* * *

[author]

Authors note:

[1] - Live in one day. A Latin proverb, very popular among those who like to burn their lives young.

The chapter is ready, although there's not much action.

A hero just... fucking Kostik.

First, he failed the trip to the brothel, getting in trouble with huge pluses on his rolls, and then he missed the opportunity to fuck Taria at last. Or rather, it was Taria who missed it, but it was Kostya who was unhappy.

Of the crits, I will note only Ygra, who showed absolutely no Ygrian intelligence, which gave her a bonus to her vocabulary, almost doubling it. It was ten words, but became a little less than twenty.

Another thing that pleased me was the bandit rolls. In general, the version seems pretty standard, but there is still room to turn the wrong way. The Dices had a good laugh at the hero.

Again.

[/author]