* * *
Life returned to a measured rhythm. The vilgers who had gathered the harvest were preparing to go to the market. Stepan, who existed in a separate stream from the mass of people, was getting deeper and deeper into the study of Spheres. For a whole week after the curse was removed, he did a little bit of everything at once, summoned this and that, sometimes bought the necessary small things in the system store, but never took more than the necessary minimum. Skills and experience flow much more actively when the shaman does not just flood any problem with money, sorry, expensive reagents, and gifts-sacrifices, but also presses, and defends his point of view, actively bargaining and pushing his will. Stepan practiced to prove this point of view, to use authority and not to spend money where it is possible to do without spending. It was more difficult, but in some ways even more interesting.
Among the most memorable moments was the contract concluded in three stages, during which we had to talk to a surprisingly luminous spirit. The first time was a conversation about the prospects, the second act was a discussion of the terms, and only then, at the end, did they come to a consensus. This spirit was not a Sor or even a Lunar, as he already had contracts, but from the same realm, very closely mixed with the subsurface. In fact, a very powerful and rather useless in direct combat, the spirit had once originated from the light of the crystal druse in the local dungeon, where drow and all sorts of other chthon dwell. And its light served not so much as a weapon as a catalyst for a whole host of rituals Stepan was going to use. To summarize, this creature specialized in working with the boundary separating the world of the high spheres from the realm of reality, and it could both strengthen, weaken, and tear that boundary apart.
Stepan used the spirit properly during the entire contract, which sted three nights. Exactly nights. During the day, the spirit, used to the darkness of the dungeon or even the Underworld became almost useless. It lost a lot of its properties and coolness in the open, but it was still a very interesting thing with a great set of abilities. He had warned Meld and even Kirik that he not stay home at all these three nights, sincerely hoping that the vilgers didn't pay attention to the midnight illuminations in the middle of the forest. Stepan spent a lot of time and effort, and a couple of times pointed out his pce to the spirit checking the length of the leash, because he was so bold that any dark one would be jealous, but the young man achieved his goal. Stepan used these properties to turn his clearing into a strip of traps and obstacles. Both from the side of the real world and from the side of the spirit world: there was no telling what kind of shit would want to come into the gde, attracted by the shining resonance of the totemic structure and the accessible, even if locked and guarded, passage to the world of matter.
He also completed another assignment. One that had to do with Stepan's increased vitality, making several deals where the payment was made in blood and life, not magic or offerings. Small spirits, mostly of little use, but the couple he left allowed to see traces of spilled blood, even weeks ter and with some chance to identify the blood, and also, when directly pnted, allowed to acquire a kind of “blood vision” that could, with luck, reveal someone's simple disguise. To accomplish the assignment, he raised a bit of affinity with the Bloody Sphere and also gave from the generosity of the system a vial additionally saturated with the magic blood of the gifted. And not just blood, but also filtered blood, that is, devoid of auric shades of individual donors, which became a single mass, suitable for assimition by those who would fall for such a fee.
The second assignment, which offered a much less useful reward and again required him to do something too shady - to be precise, to impnt the spirits of death or perdition in recently deceased bodies in the local cemetery - the shaman dropped it with a completely clean heart. The blood, the entire vial, he spent in one go, summoning and contracting a small cloud of small creatures of a leeching nature. The only difference was that these guys were faster and able to slip under or through shields. They even looked not like clouds of ghostly fog, which remotely resemble leeches, but like very thin worms, more like already alive threads, being a gregarious combat call, dangerous and insidious. The vial, by the way, after all these adventures, remained intact and untouched, and Stepan stashed it for the future because a good and slightly enchanted gss could be quite useful. He could use it to draw his blood for the next ritual.
The first week turned into the second week. The peasants went to their trade and invited the shaman, in case he needed something. Well, he would ask to buy something through the vilgers. The answer to both questions was negative, having said goodbye warmly, they left him in complete and long-awaited peace. Again calls, only now already guardian spirits, both permanently, to settle in the totem, and those who came at the call one-time or also permanently. Stepan had not forgotten his pns to practice leaving the body, but he persistently id not even straw, but a three-yer mattress, at the same time surrounding the mattress with barbed wire, watchtowers, and machine-gun points. The traps from the spirit world and the new guards would all be there to cover the young man in case of trouble. It wasn't that he was sure that trouble was inevitable, no, but all his knowledge said that with such out-of-body practices, it was better to be over-insured, because you could run into anything. And, most unpleasantly, anything could be of any level of danger, from a pack of small miscreants to something like that spirit of bck roots and the dark side of nature, whose summoning beacon sheet still y at the bottom of his backpack. Of course, the chances of encountering a weak enemy are much higher than getting a tooth on an invincible one, especially in the retively close yers of the High Spheres. It's better to overdo the defense than to miss and end up bare-assed against a pack of giant cannibalistic hedgehogs.
SpoilerT.N. There is a saying: If I'd known where I'd fall, I'd have made a straw bed.
[colpse]The days went by day and night, with only the occasional sit-down in the tavern and Meld's teaching. Stepan was tempted to try to use the gifting effect on the boy, the charge of which would have burned up uselessly at this rate, but he didn't know how to justify it. He remembered how he sprouted an aura deep and wide when he increased his characteristics, and he knew perfectly well that the boy would not write off the ten stats added to him on a random cold. And the appeared magic gift, especially if it was not there before, to miss it. Though Meld could do it, Stepan believed in his amazing attention to detail, but increased stamina, health, and aura would be noticed, if not by the vilgers, then by the next of Gaia's novices who visited the Lyady. Though it would be an incredible joke to make a potential mage out of this asshole because it would turn the orphaned boy into the most enviable of suitors. It could have turned him into an outcast, just like the main character in all those books about the offended and kicked vengeance. Well, with Meld's character, he'd start kicking the locals, especially if he got a couple of points in Constitution.
"And if the fever does not go down even after the decoction, then you can drop a bit of flower vapor under the tongue, but only make sure that the patient does not eat anything and especially not to drink anything strong, or it will only get worse!" Meld, having finished his monologue, exhales contentedly and jumps up on the spot, wanting to know whether he has said everything correctly or whether he has made a mistake again. "Yay! I'm the best, yeah! Ha-ha! My pie, thank you honorable Pann, very tasty!!!"
The boy, who had received his sweet, was ready to run away, but the shaman's attentive gaze and eloquent silence stopped him, and then he quickly finished the pie and started sorting herbs. Stepan didn't really need this sorting, as well as herbs in general. He collected them through the spirits pointing to the right point and some of them he bought, but he had to pay very little, just to train the guy's skills. If he was going to leave here, Meld would have to leave some useful skills for survival, so that he wouldn't become an outcast in the community, who didn't have anything of his own. He had no retives left, and Kirik was an honest man, but if he had to, he'd stand up for someone who had someone else, while Meld was on his own, a nobody.
“Meadow Flower can be considered the simplest of all types of medicinal brews. It grows literally underfoot in every clearing and even around the vilge, but if gathered and brewed correctly, it makes an excellent base for any potion.” The Earthman expined not for the first time, to ensure the listener's eyes did not gze over, and that his vocabury remained within the limits of his understanding. “Whatever you add to it, be it a simple Chamomile or a rare Bloodroot, the Meadow Flower will take in the additive and enhance its properties. Even a little, even a drop, but it will strengthen it, not to mention the fact that it has a strengthening effect in general. But in order for this herb to become really useful, and not just a good way to warm the body after the winter cold, it is extremely important... and what is important Meld?”
"Re-ci-pe is important, honorable Pann!" immediately responds the satisfied boy, completing the process of crushing only the flower petals and the youngest leaves, and its color is tiny, in contrast to the more massive leaves. "You should always brew it in boiled water, but not boiling, you know, but slightly cooled. Add reagents when the water loses transparency, but not yet darken completely, only then the grass will strengthen the brew, and not loosen the stomach. Especially if you add Bloodroot!""
Judging by the boy's face, the fact that such a recipe could ruin someone's mood and clothes with a sudden breakthrough and activation of the “CODE BROWN” signal. He not only remembered but also understood it in a completely different way than a good guy should, as the vilge prankster had never been. Again, Meld couldn't help noting the facts Stepan had mentioned in passing that the Bloodroot, which, by the way, helps not only medically, but also by magic in its fleshy trunk, loses its bitter taste and very pungent odor when boiled, and that a pinch of the stem crushed and thrown directly into the boiling pot would be enough for persistent diarrhea.
“You'd better remember that a long upset stomach will drain all the water out of a man, so you can literally die of diarrhea, comedian,” Stepan remarks not too harshly, but weightily, looking into the eyes of the shamefully slumped shoulders of the boy. “Especially if you feed an old man such a drink. Especially if you sprinkle a lot of it on him. Especially if this recipe is probably a couple of people in the vilge know it, it's not the rarest herb. Especially if the one who added such a seasoning is seen in the process of adding the herb to the broth.”
With each word, the boy only pressed his head into his shoulders harder, and it seemed that the slight condemnation and disappointment in Stepan's voice offended him more than if he had been beaten. He was not pretending but was seriously ashamed, the spirits of meanings would not lie, and a couple of them flying around in his house all the time, not counting the one pnted in his ears and eyes. And he was ashamed not because he had been caught, and not even because he wanted to do something bad to a man, but because of Stepan's condemnation, which made him feel embarrassed.
“Come on, what's he like, huh?” He only muttered, pouting and turning away, compining to himself about the old boatman who was interfering with his young love, and who, even though he had transferred Meld from being a scum to being almost not a scum, still chased him away from his granddaughter. “He behaves worse than he did with some outw, and I have every respect for him!”
Stepan only had to shake his head and remind the little one once again not to get crazy, and if he did, not to make a mistake with the dosage, and send him to rest. He had enough conscience to put back the quietly whistled piece of bloodroot, literally a piece of stem, not even a whole herb. Well, he should have been reprimanded or beaten up for such an attitude to the delicate business of medicine, but Stepan was zy, plus he sort of conveyed to the guy the most important thing. And also, admittedly, some observation of the old boatman and a couple of accidentally caught rumors about him, clearly indicated that this nice grandfather could use a shit, so to speak, in order to remove more shit from the body and thus slightly improve the obnoxious character. According to Meld, if all the shit comes out at once, a new Dantra will flow into the Middle Sea, but not a water one, but a shit one.
The inn was not without adventures, though there were no special celebrations this time. Stepan got into the habit of eating there sometimes, appreciating the not-so-bad cooking, and also getting used to the fact that there were other people around, not just Meld, who came to visit. He paid for his meals on such occasions, though he had every right to demand free service and send Kirik to pay for it but considered it petty. Usually, he sat alone at such times, and on his first visit he had hinted, very thickly, but within the limits of politeness, about where exactly he had seen the company and those who wished to sit down to him and ask him about life. So when a vaguely familiar man about seven years older than Stepan, with a pale and twisted face, unceremoniously came to his table, he was a little surprised. It was clear at once that it was not out of idle curiosity that he was so unceremonious. The hand of the man was tightly wrapped in a not particurly clean rag, and even under the bandage, it was obvious that the shape of the bones was wrong.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Magik, but I'm having trouble with my arm, I'm asking for help, I just can't work or give the household a job.” To all appearances, he was really afraid that Stepan was going to hit him up on the second arm. It adds one more stroke to the picture of the image of local magicians as personalities. “Our elder, Kirik, told us not to interfere with you, not to disturb you, and not to bother you at all, but it's a shame. I'm not asking you to help me for nothing, I'll pay you back as it is, my father and brother have gone to the auction, they'll come back with money, I'm telling you.”
A wave of a hand from which the man - the shaman's mind finally identified him as a local potter, one of a whole family of them, which all at once are engaged in their craft - immediately shut up as if cut off, and then the young man chewed a piece of scrambled eggs with fried rd, and first of all pointed to his hand.
“Take off the bandage and show me, just don't make a fuss or yell, I don't like that.” The pale potter seemed to have decided to bite off his tongue, but he didn't make a sound as he unwound the makeshift bandage, which made the boy think that this character must have a history with mages, or the rest of the vilge didn't show such fear when talking to him. “Yeah, that's a pretty bad break you got. How'd you end up here? It wasn't a potter's wheel, was it?”
“No, the gods were merciful. I fell by accident, and a basket of cy fell on my exposed hand. I didn't have time to take it away.” Stepan only nodded at this expnation and applied one of the countless small amulets to his swollen and bluish hand, only for a moment, but it was enough for the man. “Oh, what's that? It doesn't hurt anymore, it doesn't hurt at all!”
Of course, he had spent the anesthesia effect renewed every five days on this wound. Well, not exactly anesthesia, although it is also in the arsenal of the young man, but rather a complete disconnection of pain in the area of the body and aura, which the spirit takes in payment. In his system notebook Stepan signed him Zaher-Masoch, in honor of that very, still earthly figure. He literally craved human pain, and only for human pain, so there was not even an admixture of other blood in the nearest five tribes. So much so that he fed on it and got high from it, like a damn junkie. In fact, if you were serious about bargaining, you could make the spirit pay for such anesthesia, but then the reliability would fall. A full-fed entity could leave at any moment, and with a normal contract would sit until they let him go. And why not sit, suckling on the reflection of the wound in the thin body, if they fed and paid?
"I've anesthetized the wound, but it's only temporary so that you don't fall while I finish eating," Stepan expined, continuing to savor his breakfast and lunch, deftly wielding his knife and wooden spoon, regretting that he had not taken his multitool knife from home, where the fork was included. "On payment... I won't pull money from you, especially since you don't have it now. Are you a potter? I need a dozen pots, low, rounded with a tight lid. I don't care about decorations, I don't care if they're pretty, I just want them to be sturdy and without cracks or holes."
He didn't seem to have overdone it. Considering the prices for healing services and the fact that he was guaranteed to fix the fracture, but rather cheapened it again. Though, for conspiracy's sake, he'd make the poor guy walk around with a non-working arm for a while. Judging by the patient's shining face he was also surprisingly pleased with the price pleasantly excited. He ordered some hot porridge for himself since his appetite had returned without constant pain, but to his credit, he didn't even think of ordering a drink.
“I can pay such a fee right now, not even a dozen, but two of them. Well, if Mr. Magik doesn't care about beauty, you can take from the culls. No, no, no, not from the completely rejected, but from those that are a little uneven, but without cracks and all that, just not for sale. They still accumute half a storeroom from spring to spring, so that then on spring holidays they can be beaten into shards. For luck, yeah. If such a thing suits you, you can have half a truckload. But I'll find a dozen good pots too, just to be sure, if the rejects don't fit. All right?”
The young man, only now learning that there was such a fun tradition of breaking pots and other cy utensils for good luck, nodded silently at the pleased man, finally getting his name out of his memory - Ryakr. He even had to go into a little trance to get the slipped detail out of his mind. When he finished, he silently followed Ryakr into his house, learning a whole bunch of other junk he didn't need like the best pces to gather cy near the river, prices for beautifully patterned pots, and the bad character of Zobrik's mother-in-w, who is still sad that a lot of good people died of that disease, while his mother-in-w, the old karga, was saved by Mr. Magik. By God, but the tter almost made Stepan ashamed, especially when he remembered the despair with which the vilger thanked him for saving his beloved mother-in-w.
In the house he ordered to open the window and give more light and clean air, starting to fix broken bones, at the same time correcting micro-damages with his spiritual body, cleaning wounds and blood flow. Ryakr tolerated, as it is supposed to a severe medieval man, but his brother's wife, who came for some reason to watch, on every movement of the shaman's hands only yelped and cried, as if it was her bones being set, and alive and without anesthesia. Stepan tolerated it for a couple of minutes, but at the next particurly nasty sobbing he couldn't stand it and turned to the hysterical woman, expressing his indignation in a dry tone.
"I feel like I'm not treating his injury, I'm treating yours. Or has someone cursed you, and you feel all the pain of your brother-in-w instead of him?" Looking into the uncomprehending eyes, which began to fill with indignation, Stepan was losing patience. "So you tell me, I'll fix it for free. No? Then sit the hell down. Or let him ask you for Ryakr's unevenly mended bones."
It should be said that the man coped with it himself, sending the woman away, and the rest of the procedure went quietly. Occasionally interrupted by quiet throat singing, more like simuting work than actually working, the guy removed the swelling, began the process of bone splicing, and even cleaned the blood from bone marrow fragments. In the end, when the whole family was watching his work, even the one who had been sent away was looking through the doorway, thinking that the shaman sitting sideways couldn't see her, the young man demanded to bring him some broken pot from the ones that didn't work out. From the sound of it, no one was looking for broken shards, but they just broke the first one they could find, probably one of the ones that had been rejected and were only good enough to be smashed for luck.
The young man took the fragments in his hands and called a couple of very specific spirits, silently and without chanting he in a few minutes turned the fragments back into soft and pliable cy. Only this cy resembled the consistency of psticine, not the finished material of the pot. Having finished with the processing of the homogeneous mass, and in fact, just taking more time not to create his treatment too quickly, he waited until clean and boiled rags were brought, making quite a normal bandage by Earth standards of the first medical treatment, and then began to paste on top of the rapidly solidifying cy, now sterile and even slightly healing. Why shouldn't it heal, if it had a small healing spirit and a couple of spirits of purity in it?
“That's it. Finished.” Stepan summarized, critically assessing his work, which he sincerely tried to do as badly and unkemptly as possible, but it turned out somehow not so good. “For five days don't get your hand and fingers wet or twitch unnecessarily. Then either remind me to take it off, or, if I disappear in the forest again, just carefully break the cy, it will be brittle and crumbly by then, take off the bandage, take a good bath in warm water, even in a barrel, and you can go back to work. Bring my pots in before tomorrow morning.”
The joyful potter did not wait until tomorrow, ordering to bring the desired right now, so Mr. Magik could evaluate and choose. Stepan honestly pointed to the first suitable ones - yes, the culled ones really suited his needs and demands - but he was still given two and a half times as much, as well as a normal set of earthenware decorated with primitive patterns, just as a thank you. The little ones and one of Ryakr's friends volunteered to pay for it and deliver it to Stepan's door. However, before leaving, the young man asked him in a soft tone that aroused some underlying apprehension not to bother him about trifles, like exorcising mice in the barns, unless someone was dying, otherwise, he would be angry.
By evening, he had already begun filling the pots with a mixture of herbs and charcoal created with the help of spirits, a few store-bought reagents, and stones heated to very high temperatures. He covered the ignited offerings with a lid and turned the pots into airtight containers, splicing the edges of the lid and pot together, sealing them forever. The spirits of the air-sphere pnted in the cy itself pumped up oxygen, pumping out the carbon monoxide, allowing the fire to burn continuously, and the smoke to go directly to the Higher Spheres, but it also accumuted inside, in a physically impossible but real magical way feeding the fmes even more. In a way, it was a mixture of an amulet, a totem, and an actively working miniature altar, closed to itself and directed inward.
For the next couple of days, he made these pots on a regur basis, in passing accomplishing another small assignment and receiving as a reward an evergreen herb of little use to him at the moment, which he had to put in his bag until better times. He carried the finished pots through the forest around the clearing, forcing the earth to part and dipping his products into the damp earth and leaving them there. For half a year these preparations would be enough, and then he would either renew and strengthen them, or they would become obsolete and he would think of something better. He intended to use such peculiar amplifiers of rather specific shamanic techniques, aimed at strengthening the call and opposing aggressive spirits as another line of defense.
The same line of defense was a line of many thin strips of cloth, with small spirits of mostly air spheres tied to those strips. The ability to control the air currents or to strike with an air battering ram, but all of this pales before the possibility of activating all these ribbons at once creating a stream of specific wind. In the real world, this wind is almost not physically perceptible. But the spirits, even very strong ones, will simply be lifted by such a tornado and blown upwards, higher into the sky, like Dorothy girl. But nothing will stop the spirits back, it's unlikely that they will be blown more than a couple of kilometers up and they will come back quickly. Only Stepan, too, during this time can have time, for example, to reconfigure the defense or call for help, or at least just return to his native body and continue the showdown in a more solid format. Nothing will not prevent you from carrying out all of the above maneuvers simultaneously and immediately, if, of course, you can. And if you do not spare the very foundation of the defensive line, making the ribbons light up, so you can even force not-wind to blow so that the spirits, even not the weakest, as if lost in a maze of streams of air and not immediately find the right path.
An equally important element was the work with some trees around the clearing, not exactly next to it, but a little further away. Here he showed himself from the side of witchcraft and totemization. He actually turns these trees into quasi-totems, by territorial magic securing the authority over them and the spirits pnted in the green pntation over the territory, albeit through subordination to the shaman, and by spiritual control literally changing the properties of the reflection of trees in the worlds of spheres, intensifying its effect and making it as imperceptible as it was possible. In the corporeal world, signs carved with a bone knife remained on the trees folding into rather long chains of symbols closing around the trunk. In Stepan's hopes and pns, this fencing and camoufge barrier would hide the clearing from scanning or long-range detection if someone started looking for this pce. And if there was a fight in the clearing itself, the cloaking line would hide the fight from the same vilgers or sensitive gifted passing through Dantra.
In addition to the assignments which were all mostly small, that is, tiny, Stepan also paid some attention to the “offerings of the week”, even though not every one of them was from the personal pantry of the Milfsent Lady, but still, he did not buy anything from the offerings. Both because he spent about the same amount of funds as he was getting from assignments and upgrades buying more and more materials, and because even very useful things had a very narrow utility. For example, a drop of unicorn blood, one drop, but given voluntarily, pced in a vial of maximum isotion, which costs a considerable fortune, keeping the blood fresh and extremely saturated with those essences for which unicorn blood is valued. In general, drop this drop on the head of a weak lich and he can be put to rest even without any extra work on this drop.
The question for connoisseurs is this: what should Stepan do with this blood if such a reagent itself is stupidly higher than anything a young man can do with it? He will not be physically able to conduct a ritual of summoning and treaty with those who are at least a little worthy of such payment, and just to keep the vial at his pce just to have it, he, as, is not interested. Many simir words can be said about a small cy tablet, on which were drawn many little men with spears, hunting for prey and, it seems, successfully hunting it. If one did not pay attention to the fact the prey was a schematically depicted adult dragon, one might mistake it for some not-too-valuable museum piece. But in fact, this useless old thing was a one-time anchor of summoning, or rather, not even summoning, but unsealing: break the pte and from it will pop out an extremely active and quite preserved mind with skills ghost spirits, or rather, the ghosts of dead hunters who managed to become spirits. And if even truer, the spirit embodiment of the very tribe of hunters which is the essence of a single, despite the number of ghostly warriors in this unit of air defense of fantasy type. And yes, such an entity will be most effective against dragons, especially young and not too experienced, not yet accustomed to the fact that they too can be considered a set of meat loin, but other air and flying targets may well be removed from the sky and brought down to the sinful earth.
Stepan would have bought such a thing without a second thought, but even in the form of an offer of the week, this treasure cost so much that one couldn't help but associate it with a brand-new Maserati or even a Missile Frigate. It wasn't enough, even if you counted all the supplies avaible since the very first day he'd found the store. Even though he had gotten a lot from closing the average assignment from the System, three such assignments might not be enough. Four would have been enough, and there would still be some stock left. So it turned out that either you want to, but there is no money, even if the system, or you want to, but use the desired will be able at best in twenty levels.
Against this background, a small trinket from the Autogoddess, allowing to attract the sleeping consciousness of the owner into the dream of some real beauty, making this dream as vulgar and erotic as possible, with the ability to influence the will of the woman through this dream, leaving a long-sting and extremely imperceptible impact, seemed not the worst option. It was not only an opportunity to learn something new for himself in the subject of working with dreams - the level of the amulet corresponded to the magister level, and it was achieved by cssical magic and artifacts, not by shamanic direction - but also a way of passive pumping, every night, each time with a new dy, and therefore the inflow of experience would be wow! In general, the failed patroness of a somewhat different Stepan was, as always.
To hell with such offers and a variety of dirty dreams! Stepan already had more awesome dreams than any other, and the battle with a horde of cow-like xenomorphs, who had Sviborg's face on the tip of their tongues instead of a second mouth, in company with Pahom and Bratishka, who were joking with each other, was not the craziest thing he had seen in those dreams. And yes, as the raid boss of that battle, a green elephant the height of a five-story building came out against the three of them, dropping that same five-story building on the three of them.
SpoilerThere is a picture of Sviborg
[colpse]* * *
This summoning was potentially not the most difficult of those already performed, but it was definitely the most expensive. Because the spirit, which Stepan intended to curb, knew the price of himself and his services, and to eat in the offerings preferred only pollen of the rarest pnts that bloom, to put it mildly, infrequently, and even in different climatic zones. Collect such an offering as a loner shaman sitting in the middle of nowhere impossible without the help of VIPs in the local society and a lot of money, or without the use of legal cheats in the form of System Purchases. If Stepan didn't have access to this meta-skill, he would certainly have adjusted his pns rather than cancel them, simply summoning a few spirits with more modest requests rather than one extra-professional. Still, it wasn't even greed that pressed him, but some sincere proletarian resentment of other's greed.
The call went smoothly. The first part of the offerings went to other spheres, which he habitually forwarded with his spiritual grip, strengthening the effect of the beckon even more and in passing giving orders to the watchful spirits to drive away all kinds of small and not-so-small things that could fly into the light and try to steal someone else's offerings. By the time the expected guest appeared, no less than a dozen of them had already been torn up, and one of the torn-up ones not only fought off the five who attacked him quite stubbornly but also managed to wound one of the guards. A new group of guards immediately took the pce of the wounded who hid to heal in the central totem. But Stepan made a note about the necessity to send hounds after the insolent one because the shaman and a group of seeing spirits in one of the auxiliary totems remembered the shell of the spirit-vulture. Actually, in parallel with the original call he began to instruct and send these hounds, both calls were not considered complicated, just the main of the two was expensive, very expensive.
Stepan could tell with millisecond accuracy the moment when the summoned contract would appear, because his clock was so advanced that he could do such things with ease. It was fortunate the spirit had decided to show up before the shaman, unaccustomed to such neglect, would have run out of patience. The being was not strong, Stepan already had much stronger contracts, both in direct combat and in general, but the guest behaved with the aplomb of a superstar who had entered the diner. However, there were notes in the guy's knowledge about the characteristic manners of this spirit, as well as about his highest professionalism. That's why he chose him, and not less reliable and sometimes dangerous analogs, which took cheaper and were accommodating together with fawning reverence.
Belonging to the natural and two more difficult-to-read spheres, this spirit appeared right in the ritual circle that had been grown especially for it, the boundary and the line of which were wildflowers that had to be forced to bloom in the very te fall. The spirit looked the same in the real world as in the world of high spheres - a small butterfly with white wings, something reminiscent of a common cabbage butterfly. This spirit was not for fighting, and it could not fight at all, as opposed to drawing pollen streams directly into its wings, which were in fact its mouth, not its flying organs. This spirit was called in order to avoid combat, to avoid such a battle, where the shaman a priori in a losing position. Butterfly Fugitive called those who would like to leave their body and wander the world of spirits at very far distances from the abandoned body, but at the same time afraid to run into terrible shit, which will eat the explorer, no matter whether it will be Dora or even Oleg.
The Fugitive himself, each time, after each call, passes through death-rebirth, like that fiery combustion that the three anti-cursing spirits did, but, unlike them, each time he remained almost the same, getting rid only of traces of other people's auras and spiritual bodies, of other people's imprints and remnants of will. This is a very important crification because the knowledge in Stepan's head pointed to one of the simir contacts, which was necessary and obligatory to disembody or seal after the completion of the transaction. After all, he would leave the shaman and would not bring him any problems, but his grandchildren, taking advantage of the bloody and aural connection, would not give life. The Fugitive took care of such problems regurly renewing himself and resurrecting for each summoner.
Why does he need such radical methods of purification? It is because after the deal is made, he literally settles inside the aura and subtle body of the summoner for three years, no less and no more. A literal butterfly in the stomach, not to say otherwise, which will also eat up some insignificant percentage of the reserve, because the Fugitive will never spend his reserve, except for the fulfillment of what he was contracted for. If. If the out-of-body shaman loses contact with his body. If he falls into a trap or a trap specifically targeting such newcomers hunted by the spiritual beast. Then it is the turn of the Fugitive, who at one moment finds a connection with the real body of the shaman, makes a path, and carries the one who has left the body back into the vessel of flesh, and then leaves the flesh and subtle bodies at the same time, crumbling with shining pollen, from which he appears and is born again, but a little stronger, a little bit stronger, but still.
The essence of his main skill is that this butterfly in essence is not one, but a double one, simply they are both superimposed on each other and always move synchronously, being one whole in all senses that ordinary words can accommodate. And so, when the shaman separates his spirit from his flesh, the Fugitive is not separated, he continues to be both there and there, simultaneously and uninterruptedly, which means that he cannot lose touch with his body either. Not even so - his second image always follows the first, attracts one to the second, no matter what the situation is - the one that remains in the spiritual body will always be attracted to the material body and the shaman who has thrown off the shackles of the flesh is primary here, while the meat body that remains without him is only a secondary factor.
If to expin this nonsense as substantially as possible, which even a shaman can't understand easily, we will get a very funny picture. So, two shamans simultaneously decide to leave the body, but only one of them has the Fugitive, and otherwise it can not be. This spirit is unique and doesn't have many peers in the specialty. Both shamans depart from their mortal shells, and then one of them, who has the Fugitive inside, decides that he will not go further, that he wants to return and better let the second one take the risk. And then the first one just takes, withdraws the sleeping and inactive Fugitive from himself spiritual handing him over to his coworker and friend. The second one carefully and gently immerses the rescue beacon into himself, at the same moment, the second image of the Fugitive disappears from the meat body of the first shaman, who refused to risk appearing in the body of the second one, who transpnted the spirit into his subtle body. Fucking quantum entanglement in the shamanistic way, which you can't understand without eating hallucinogenic fly agaric and smoking a joint made of Schrodinger's mammoth wool!
Thanks to this peculiarity, Stepan was told by the knowledge of the System, often whole circles of shamans summoned only one Fugitive-like spirit with simir property for all, so the one who makes his way through the world of spirits and risks more than others could always retreat, and then the links of the circle changed roles and the lifeline crossed with a catapult went to the one who repces the next in front. And to carry out such a transpnt, of course, is not easy, but if the shaman can leave the body and travel through the world of spirits, then such an operation he can do. Ideal evacuator, literally the best in its price segment, which is not shameful to use in the most extreme case, even Senior, and the Highest Shaman, that is, the analog of the magister, fucking it, cssical magic. A universal wand, and that's putting it mildly. Another treasure is obtained through precise knowledge of the calling procedure and the correct selection of offerings. It's another reason for ordinary gifted people to hate Stepan as sincerely as possible.
That's why the young man watches how the little butterfly finishes its pollen, and then, having made a deal and waited until the essence of the spirit accepts the concept of the contract, he carefully and almost gently squeezes the butterfly with a ghostly hand, as gently putting it under the sor plexus feeling how the spirit settled there beginning to pull a thin stream of reserve sinking into the absolute stasis of nothingness. Now, until the end of the contract or until Stepan uses the evacuation, this spirit does not even exist in the full sense of the word, becoming something like another auric node in the shaman's body. Only this auric node is like a fsh card on a removable plug. It can be taken out of the slot and transpnted to someone else. Well, in theory, since Pann has no allied shamans and is unlikely to have any, even if he decides to use the gifting on Meld or someone else.
Tiredly exhaling, the young man, barefoot and wearing only light pants, leaned his bare back against the totem heated by the internal pulsation of energies and dozed off without getting dressed. Fortunately, he had no dreams, but he woke up rested and even replenished his powers after a very strenuous ritual, but he was stiff to the point of stiffness. When he got up, he checked his aura and that of the Fugitive, making sure he was inactive and began to think about what he could do before nightfall and whether he should return to the house now. On the other hand, he'd had a good night's sleep. He'd had the butterfly call from morning to noon, and then he'd been knocked out almost immediately, and now he didn't want to sleep but didn't feel like doing anything.
"And why not?" Shrugging and smiling with an anticipatory grin, Stepan asked himself, answering for himself. "Why not, yes! It's already getting close to the deadline anyway, we need to check, so why not today?"
It took barely five minutes to quickly summon the most common air sphere spirit, a primitive combat spirit. The spirit was able to strike with an air arrow or a fist, which could kill a man without amulets or armor, or it could create a cool breeze or blow dust away. The most common air spirit Stepan, who had recently become accustomed to the totemic support, summoned in packs of five or seven and brought them to the contract. The only difference was that he chose a contract for life with the right of transmission by blood and with the obligatory residence inside the small house of spirits, part of his rosary. The offering included a few burned feathers of a rare species of falcon, sent through the spirit grip, and before that bought back through the store. To say that it was Stepan who had overpaid was to belittle it, for well, very serious and unjustifiable charity.
He was about to apply the gift of the System to the spirit when it occurred to him that what he was testing was whether or not the spirit would demand a higher fee after he improved. And he had already overpaid the spirit so much that it, even improved, could hold on to its fee and not react to the possibility of changing the conditions. Well, it's a mistake.
"Well, I overdid it. The main thing is that at least he understood in time." Stepan calmed himself down, but he wasn't very calm. "Take two, an easier choice."
Another ordinary conscript, a spirit of the same sphere, type, and aspects, - so not to change the contour of the call, - only slightly different, as if this one is a little easier to clean the air from dust. Now the contract for lifetime service was as standard as possible. Stepan even habitually pushes with authority and will the lower requirements to which the spirit has habitually agreed. And so, when the contract was concluded, the young man pced the spirit in another link of rosary beads. It was a different one. In the previous was not enough space. Then he called him again and wished to use a new meta-skill. It came out on the first try and was so easy that he was even surprised. There were no special sensations, just suddenly such a “HOP!” and he already knew that the effect worked, and he could see too.
Judging by what he saw, the spirit was not particurly lucky because, with all his Sensitivity and the support of the clearing's scanning systems, he could almost guarantee that out of a ten units of possible freebies, the spirit had gotten three, or four at most, but mostly in Control and Spirit, which was an even more important stat for spiritual beings than for shamans. Well, at least not Constitution, though in the case of spirits Stepan wasn't sure that they had it, or that it hadn't been repced by some other characteristic, or rather, he was sure of the tter, even though he understood roughly how to perceive it. For a few seconds Stepan waited for a reaction, but it did not come. The spirit realized what exactly happened to him, all immersed in himself, but responded to commands and at the same time did not hurry to shout that he was entitled to a big reward, because he was now badass. Well, this is not bad in itself, and the spirit itself has become stronger, not so useless, and more mobile, controlling rge masses of native elements, even the images of communication with him became clearer and smarter, still the spirit (essence) spirit (characteristic) has grown up, no matter how punning and absurd it sounds.
“Well, it seems that the autopsy has revealed that the deceased died as a result of the autopsy.” The muttering under his breath took on a somewhat irritated tone. “We'll have to tag the homes of the couple's spirits, keep an eye on them, see the effects of contact with the gift, and use the other one as a control sample. But that would be tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Or another year.”
For the next couple of days, Stepan just rested. The Fugitive's summoning and the process of the negotiation with him had taken a lot of energy out of him. Having decided to allow himself two days off, during which he did nothing but sleep and eat, even giving Meld a vacation. Stepan fulfilled his pns brilliantly, and no one dared to interfere with his rest. Since Shera's departure, a month had passed without a couple of days winter was coming soon, though it could be considered that winter had already come. The cold, especially at night, had become noticeable, and the spirits of winter as such were already feeling their time, flying to the shaman's call at a reduced rate. The forest was falling asleep, the st harvestable herbs were fading, the mighty Dantra was covered with a thin crust of ice, the remaining leaves, which by some miracle still lingered on the
He didn't think about the priestess who had returned to her temple assignments very often and reluctantly. Mostly because bming her for anything didn't work unless he started bming himself. Stepan didn't like the regur denunciation of his mistakes along with the creation of images of how things could have gone differently if he had acted differently on Earth, and he didn't like it here either. A turned page of life, a moral kick in the ass, and a spoiled mood - that was all that was left of that idiotic situation. The young man even thought about writing a letter to the priestess thanking her for her “lesson”, saying that I didn't hold a grudge and understood everything, but he didn't do it either. Yes, there was no anger at her, and if there was any, there was no anger left, but there was no desire to continue communication, to be honest. The very memory of the priestess reminded him of his stupidity, and there was no more reliable way to break off contact with anyone than to make a fool of himself in front of them.
With all these frantic preparations for winter, the seventeenth level was taken just a day and a half before the vilge men returned from the market. Everyone returned safe, alive, and even almost healthy, although a couple of particurly bad-tempered individuals were crushed in the conflict with neighboring vilges. But valor, courage, honor, and willingness to fight to the end helped even the lesser men of Lyady to finish off the enemy in a battle worthy of legends. Well, judging by what the participants said, the epicness was on the level of low-flying dragons and a demonic invasion repelled in passing. And, as Kirik chuckled in his mustache, commenting on the juiciest moments with sudden “as it really was” inserts, not only the valor and might but also the fact that the Southern Furs were more drunk to the point of unsteady standing on their feet. However, a certain Little Wull successfully used a drunken comrade instead of a club, saying how he beat the other fools with his own fool.
Characteristically, no one came to the shaman with requests for treatment of bruises under the eye Kirik trained them, which pleasantly surprised Stepan. Or they considered these bruises, which had already turned yellow, to be analogous to a battle medal and could not think of bringing them down voluntarily. Kirik's face was completely untouched, for none of the rival men had hit the fidgety beast. They did not come even after they had chatted with the local potter, who was showing everyone the cy sleeve he had carefully removed. Yes, he had broken it himself, he didn't go to Mr. Magik, he managed it by his own efforts, carefully nailed it in the right pces and then put it back together, even glued it with primitive glue, for memory, it seems. Well, or not for memory, but in order to patent the invention, Stepan still bet on an ordinary souvenir, the local magicians will not be surprised by such a trick, they themselves probably know about gypsum and simir substitutes.
So he chatted with the satisfied and well-bargained headman, who did not even hide his emotions about the successful trip to the market and went back to grinding. There was a sense of reticence in the air: Kirik had hardly forgotten that he had offered to close the payment as soon as he got free money after the auction, but Stepan did not trifle with it, especially since his lodging and food were really provided at a decent level, as for the vilge. Kirik, realizing that the shaman was not going to bring up the subject, did not raise it himself, reasoning that it was better for him.
The seventeenth level, to return to this topic, was taken during another session of strengthening the spiritual boundary, when the young man created another additional “wolf pit”, only for hungry and predatory creatures that could try to ram through the woven shields and webs, and force the guards to retreat. The sixth trap, as usual, in a slightly different modification, was an artificial multidimensional pocket, in which the trapped spirit closes and begins to drain power, but to renew its reserves, on the contrary, does not give, either completely cutting off replenishment, or very slowing it down. And as soon as he was able to weave the st elements of this web, manually assisting several spider spirits with his own ghostly hand, the promotion came. He let the spirits go at once, though they were ready to work through the contract before sunset. And start checking what was new in his Status.
This time there were no gifts from the Autogoddess, which Stepan was only gd about albeit silently. However, there were some updates in the list of options open for promotion or choice of reinforcement. These changes didn't affect the pns he had beforehand, so the choice didn't change from the one he had made immediately after taking a new rank in combat skills. Scratching the bridge of his nose, Stepan found no fw in his thoughts and pns, so he didn't increase his knowledge or meta-skills. At the moment, he had the necessary lines in his Status, some of his abilities were still being mastered, and some of them he was not in a hurry to master. In the tter case, of course, it was about charms, not about ordinary knowledge. So the young man turned to the list of avaible properties, which had also expanded and improved in recent months, choosing the only one he considered vital for himself.
He still did not deepen some facets of the gift by cutting others, which was powerful in the current perspective, but shortsighted in general. So he chose the property that did not bring any bonuses to his characteristics but could help him in his current research and, most importantly, in future research, which he had pnned for this winter with a rge reserve. A moment, and the aura, as well as the subtle bodies, was twisted into a tight spiral and bagel by a simultaneous transformation. It could not be considered pain, but the intensity of the load on the consciousness was unpleasantly high, yet the modification was not serious, turning the previously taken property “fortitude of subtle bodies” into its advanced version, called “high fortitude of subtle bodies” and, it must be said that more pronounced intensity of restructuring Stepan experienced only when unfolding elite properties for the tenth level.
Even in its improved form, this property, as well as its initial manifestation did not enhance his shamanism skills, nor did it make it easier to call for any group of spirits. But all of the things for which he had once taken the usual fortitude after the increase were revealed in new ways. It's not just the ability to train with absolute dedication and without fear of injuring the aura or even mutition of the spiritual body. This is also an increase in the resistance of the very spiritual body, which Stepan was going to expose, separate from the physical body, and go for a walk in the world of spirits, for a fun walk. In principle, he was sure that only very specific shamans, probably using family secrets, managed to achieve such resistance just for their deep spiritual body, not just the outer yers of the aura. It's not that it's unnecessary. It's very necessary, and for a chance to get such a property, many people risk their lives and postmortem. It's just very difficult. Even among covens and long lineages of shamans forced to reign the use of special companion spirits, which cover the shaman and help him move. It reminds him of using a wheelchair, and even one that is pushed and guided not by you, but not from a good life is sophisticated with such contracts.
A modest earthling, who diligently reminds himself of this modesty, has at the same time spiritual transformation, spiritual operation, and now even more resistant subtle bodies - this will not make him equal to the native inhabitants of the world of spirits, where any man and non-human, accustomed to the Reality, born and raised in it, will be on the rights of a diver underwater, but still quite a lot will increase safety and combat capability. You can dive to the bottom to the sharks in just swimming trunks and flippers, armed with a penknife, and you can dive in a deep diving suit, with a waterproof chainsaw and a pneumatic needle gun at your belt. Stepan tried to crawl towards the second picture in his brain, building his awesomeness brick by brick.
Why do shamans go into that spirit world in the first pce, and why is it so important for Stepan, despite the presence of a cheater System? Oh, here you can arrange a whole lecture, so if someone asked about it from a fellow isekai, he would be buried under a pile of indisputable facts, confirmed theories, statistical calcutions, and quite reasonable assumptions. The most basic, in addition to the experience and self-discovered skills that surely await him, is, of course, the opportunity to interact more purely and qualitatively with the spiritual world. The call goes further, clearer, and more correct, the spirits come to the call more willingly, and when contracting can not spend time and effort on the process of transferring images from reality to the subtle spheres and vice versa, from which the shaman and the spirits ping high ping is formed and the signal catches gs. This alone pays off the risks, but there was something else - little by little, a little at a time, but every second of being in the spiritual world in the form of pure spirit, this very spirit transforms and changes, qualitatively improves and adapts to new conditions.
The essence of all such transformations is that from the point of view of the spirits, any shaman is initially crippled in his attachment to the real world. He is like a blind kitten, which pokes its face wherever it is and by the method of selection learns those things that the spirits realize instinctively and by birthright. To be born with such a birthright - what is there in the world, even with a shadow, a fragment of it! - It was practically unreal for a person living in reality, except for the extremely cool dynasties, as well as a couple of talents offered at the tenth level, which Stepan refused. First of all, his current talents were not worse. Secondly, at the expense of his current talents, he had a chance to develop what he had missed and even acquire something more serious.
Returning to the theme of transformation and re-forging of one's spirit. This gradual adaptation to new conditions allows you to strengthen the qualities of shamanic chanting, influences, and in general any interactions with the world of spirits in all directions at once, and in the real world too. To become a partially spiritual being, while retaining all the advantages of a material being, taking the best of both states. After all, even returning to nd and communicating with the inhabitants of the ocean through the same standard calls the one who has undergone such a transformation will still understand, see, and realize more. At higher stages, when a shaman literally becomes akin to the spirit worlds, when he feels himself in the higher spheres no worse than in Reality, he can quite easily cross the edge together with his body, crossing himself and at will, rather than using the help of spirits or open gates. And then, combining the abilities of a walker with a spiritual body, as well as constantly staying in another pne of existence anchor of the body of the present - that's when you get the most real supreme shaman, the elite of the elites, the analog of the master of cssical magical schools minimum. In reality, of course, there are many paths to power and many Supreme Shamans still have not mastered the full transition or use some supports but still remain worthy of their title. But to step up a notch, to the power beyond the simple Magister, corresponding to the Archimagister.... Here it is already very difficult to take such a boundary for a shaman if he has not melted his spirit and not affinity with the spheres sufficiently.
In general, the reason why Stepan was preparing to storm this peak day and night, at the same time reinsuring himself against additional risks in every possible way was quite clear. The only thing he did not intend to do from the list of precautions of a novice paranoid shaman was to hire a driver for a wheelchair. He could move his body himself, if to speak allegorically, even though on crutches, crawling and pulling himself up on one arm. The Fugitive would provide the evacuation, he would prepare the protection, he would prepare a number of contracts to follow him directly, he had also picked up a number of contracts to follow him directly, he would do everything, but he would go, he would go by himself, by his efforts.
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