Babylon, the city of legends, shrouded in mystery and glory. The mighty capital of the empire, it was a bizarre combination of luxury and decay. Magnificent ziggurats, piercing the sky with their spires, stood side by side with the barracks of half-starved slaves and poor neighborhoods where life teemed in narrow streets. Magic and advanced technologies intertwined in this city, creating a unique atmosphere. Here you could meet both powerful mages and ordinary merchants, warriors returning from distant campaigns, and scientists conducting their experiments in secret laboratories.

But Babylon also had its bloody side. Duels between mages, once a rarity, have now become almost commonplace. Special platforms for these deadly contests, scattered throughout the city like scars on its body, served as a reminder of the cruelty and danger that lurked behind the magnificent facade of the ancient capital.

Once a bustling square, it now looked eerily empty. Residents accustomed to the periodic duels of mages had long learned to bypass this place. Those who found themselves here by chance hurriedly left the territory, feeling the tension hanging in the air. The central fountain, which usually provided coolness on hot days, now seemed ominous, and its sluggish streams of water seemed to hint at the approach of a bloody denouement.

The air was filled with the crackle of broken glass. The third personal shield shattered, unable to withstand the powerful attack. It was a beautiful Sumerian spell, capable of protecting against most magical attacks, but only once. I had seven of them - three fixed on my aura and four on my staff. If I had known that this madman would attack me, I would have applied more. And I would have grabbed some artifacts from my reserves. I wasn't a rich brat like this young man, but it wasn't for nothing that I spent ten years studying artifactory with the old madman. I had my arsenal, but today it stayed at home. I relaxed, thought that nobody needed me, I'd just take a walk around the city... And then this.

Bastard! Lightning from the ring, protection from the necklace... He uses one artifact after another, like throwing copper coins around. Where did he get so many? In 20 years of medical practice, I barely scraped together enough for a dozen, and even those I made myself! And this donator has already used the seventh in just ten seconds of battle! If it weren't for the ability to manipulate water and the fact that the battle was taking place in a square with a fountain, I would already be dead!

The fountain raged, the water under my control rose into the air, forming shields and repelling attacks. But the forces were unequal. This youngster possessed artifacts of the element of fire magic of such quality that they completely overlapped all my skills.

But how long can this go on!? The lightning of Marduk? Do you think I'm a demon or something?! The water shield was pierced, the protection was removed… Nothing, wait a little, scoundrel, I'll finish reading the spell and you'll be happy. The main thing is not to lose concentration. Healing spells are a complex thing, and you can't quickly form them in your aura. Ten seconds minimum. In battle, this is an eternity. But I have no other options. He blocks my water arsenal. It is clear that he was preparing and knew who he was going to kill. He dispels weak spells. I have a whole bunch of them, but there's no use for them. Like peas against a wall. This is not some riff-raff from the gateway. It remains only to form a spell by specialization. They are the strongest I have. One good thing is that if I have time, then nothing will save him. No personal protection, no fire barrier, no psionic shield. The latter, by the way, is a very rare thing, originally from the technical worlds. I've only heard of such a thing. It dispels weak spells with a primitive structure. And he has it!

So that you hiccup, you bastard! Magma whip!? Where did you get the higher spirit of flame?! It costs as much as three estates in the center of Babylon! Why do you need me? I'm not some archmage. Minus two protections per second! I'm already spinning like a fly in boiling water, and this damn fire rope seems to have homing! Am I really going to die here!? Not in an epic battle against a pack of demons, but at the hands of a snotty duelist who hasn't even turned thirty?

Adrenaline pulsed through my veins. I had to act quickly. Yes, get together, half a step to the left, transfer the weight to the leading leg and bend down, missing the whip above me. Put the staff forward and use it as a ground from another lightning bolt launched from one of the rings on the brat's hand. Minus the last defense, but otherwise, this unrestrained flow of electricity would have fried me to a crisp.

"You will become only a stepping stone...", - wanted to say the young black-haired guy with a face like a top model from my former world. Not a single scar on his face or hands. Clean-shaven, sleek. Where did you come from on my head? Why do you need my death? Who sent you?

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But the punk couldn't finish his monologue. I managed to form the spell faster than he finished his pathetic nonsense. The spell that sucked out the very life force, turning the victim's body into a continuous chaos and mixture. His eyes widened in horror as he felt the unbearable pain engulf his body. Well, the earth to you down, little one. Consider that I have cured you. You had too correct energy channels, I corrected them for you! Now you have complete chaos there! But you can not pay. Your wonderful artifacts will do it for you. Still, a wonderful principle in these duels - what you kill is yours. It's like the necromancers have blown. Eh, reflection...

I approached the body of the failed killer. The young man was still breathing and with his fiery, hateful gaze he tried to burn a hole in me. He could no longer move or speak, nor could he conjure.

"What, your expensive toys didn't help you? You could have lived and lived. Why did you need my life? I'm not an archmage equal to the gods, whose murder would bring you fame and fortune?" - I said, leaning towards the future corpse. I bent my soul a little. Officially, I am not an archmage, but I am almost reaching the lower limit in strength and knowledge, but nobody needs to know that. And no, I didn't expect to hear an answer. This piece of meat had only a few seconds left to live. My author's spell leaves no chance. Maybe if there was a demigod, an archmage or at worst a demon, there would be chances to survive such a thing, and so - in front of me is an ordinary pyromancer apprentice, hung with a bunch of expensive toys. And with a weak will - otherwise he would have been able to say at least a word at last.

"Nothing, from a lousy sheep...", - but here I could not finish. My consciousness, accelerated to super speeds, which did not have time to return to normal, showed how the boy's breathing stopped, and a light of a new spell lit up on his chest.

A posthumous spell and clearly not the level of an apprentice. An archmage at least. It was insidious, unexpected and... deadly. I no longer had time to escape or defend myself. This spell will engulf the entire square, and if it weren't for the protective mechanisms of the city and the square, it would have covered half the city. I no longer have personal protection. And it wouldn't have helped. The square will turn into a branch of hell or the mouth of a volcano for a couple of hours. I've seen something like this before. Then an archmage died, but he took half of the sea people's army with him. Our unit then stood as the next barrier from the enemy at a height. But it wasn't necessary.

While these thoughts flashed through my head, the flame grew to a sphere with a cubit in diameter. When this flame touched my skin, all thoughts were washed out of my head by terrible pain. Still, practicing mentalism has its downsides. I was in for hellish minutes of perception driven by will. But I didn't want to give up, and I didn't want to die either. Not now, when I have become a real magician and have started practicing in new branches of this art.

But all that remained was to put up a spiritual shield and rely on the will of the gods. Nothing else will help. Just recently I was able to accumulate enough gold for a couple of scrolls on this topic. I didn't have time to practice, but the topic is adjacent to necromancy and healing, so my skills should be enough for simple techniques.

It's not easy to concentrate on the soul when half of your body is devoured by hot flames, but I'm used to physical torment. Creating spells when half of the body is doused with boiling water, and the other suffers from frostbite - this is the usual training of my first teacher. As this Sadist from magic once said - "if you can't heal yourself and the patient when wounds tear your body - then you are not a doctor." May the Great One accept his soul. He was an Ishtarian, although he was at odds with the goddess herself.

No wonder they say that before death, the whole life flashes before your eyes. Childhood, studies, the first failures and victories, the faces of loved ones, friends, enemies... everything merged into one crazy kaleidoscope.

Parents, whom I hardly remember. Life in the orphanage, from where the old magician took me. Learning, full of pain, fear and exhausting training. The first ailment cured and the curse removed. The first patient saved. The eyes of the mother, whose son I brought back to life. The smile of a beloved woman. The joy of the birth of a daughter. Pride in a son who followed my path. All this flashed before my eyes in a matter of seconds, while fire devoured my body.

By the way, I managed to save my soul from the posthumous spell. I got a first-class shield. Now you can die... Eh. Well, hello, new journey!

Darkness. Emptiness. Nothing. Only silence and emptiness. I felt neither body, nor pain, nor anything. Only emptiness and awareness of myself. How long have I been here? A second? A minute? An hour? Day? Year? Time here seemed to cease to exist.

Suddenly, from somewhere far away, I heard a voice. A female voice, gentle and melodious, filling the void with warmth and light.

"You died, but your soul is strong. You do not belong to any god of this planet. You will not even be able to get to Ishtar's domain, as your teacher did. You are destined for something else..."

"Who are you? Where am I?" - I tried to speak, but my voice sounded only in my head.

"You cannot comprehend my essence, mortal. But for you, I am the guardian of this planet. Also, sometimes I accompany souls to a new life. You will get a new chance, a new body, a new destiny. But remember, the past cannot be changed, but the future is in your hands".

The light grew brighter, enveloping me in warmth. I felt something new, unknown, forming around me. A new body, a new life.

"And where now? Where are you sending me?" - I asked, but received no answer. The light engulfed me completely, and I lost consciousness again.