**Kotel’nich, Forty Hours Ago**

**The Mayor’s Mansion**

**Oluvert, the Chewing Gnome**

Oluvert's real body bore a strong resemblance to his core manifestation, though there were notable differences. Unlike the meter-tall "gnome," the deity's physical form stood nearly two meters tall, broad-shouldered, and not lacking in visible muscles straining beneath his clothing. It had taken significant effort to achieve this appearance, as initially, there had been no difference at all. Although his rounded features and general clumsiness were still apparent, Oluvert was satisfied with the result.

At the moment, he was once again a guest at the home of his long-time acquaintance and one of his first followers. The Strelestky family mansion was perhaps the safest place in the city, making it the obvious choice. Until he obtained a second core, Oluvert stubbornly refused to leave the mayor's estate. After all, without adequate protection, he could easily meet an untimely end—his own power wasn't much to boast about.

The mayor, however, was the complete opposite of his eternal guest: tall, imposing, with magnificent, bushy mustaches and a piercing gaze. It was with this very gaze that he now scrutinized the wine-drinking gnome, who showed no intention of stopping his incessant chatter, despite the mayor's mounting frustration.

"Repeat one more time—what exactly do you want from me?" the mayor sighed, rubbing his temples. This endless back-and-forth was wearing him out. "And be concise. I don't need the details of your failure—I already know what kind of rabble works for you. Most of them, if you recall, I recruited myself!"

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It was true; Oluvert's welfare largely depended on the will of this mortal, and the mayor was well aware of it. If it were up to him, he would have long since reported the discovery of the young deity "upstairs," ensuring Oluvert's disappearance within the same day. But the eight-core Magister, on the verge of becoming a Grand Magister, had decided it was more beneficial to use Oluvert for his own purposes. After all, the deity filled one of his vacant cores with a particularly useful gift, and potentially offered more.

Thus, despite his formal status as a follower, the Strelestky patriarch did not see himself as such and treated the higher being as an equal. Besides, there wasn’t much reason to respect this temperamental upstart, who was still barely more powerful than a common cursed spirit. The only thing that set Oluvert apart from ordinary mortals was his durable core and the ability to bestow gifts.

Oluvert understood this all too well and tolerated the mayor’s condescending attitude, though he didn’t forget the slights, storing them for the future. Right now, however, he genuinely needed help from the old geezer, so he swallowed his limited pride, clenched his pudgy fists, and repeated:

"I need you to find the runaway brat. Boris, you know what will happen if he reports to the authorities. We’ll both have problems! Stop pretending this doesn’t concern you and do something already. Give the orders—get your people on the search!"

"I'm not a detective agency, in case you forgot," Boris Strelestky replied sternly. "And based on your description, we’ll be lucky to find anyone, even if we throw all our resources at it. The kid is too ‘gray.’ If he’s had time to change clothes, he’s likely already blended into the crowd. But..."

"But?" The gnome squinted. "Out with it!"

"But we didn’t put the clinic where it is for no reason. He doesn’t have many escape routes, and he’ll definitely pass through the city. That means we just need to monitor all the roadside inns along the way. He’s not likely to become a hunter, so sooner or later, he’ll leave a trace somewhere. I've already given my people their orders—directives are in place. He won’t slip past us. And I guarantee he’ll try to report the clinic right here in our district. That way, nothing will reach the higher-ups. The local branch is entirely under my control, so stop panicking!"

"And you couldn’t have told me that right away?!" the gnome fumed, slamming his glass on the table with a clang. "Was that on purpose?!"

"For your information, I only gave the orders just now," the mayor retorted dismissively. "So stop yelling and let me work! Unlike you, I have responsibilities and didn’t sign up to listen to your whining."

"Fine," Oluvert grumbled, deciding not to argue. "I just hope thatbastard hasn’t escaped yet.”