* * *

The first thing I did was to go upstairs, turn on my computer and launch a search engine. I entered the name "Iphito" in the query line and started searching...

After about three hours, in the middle of the night, I realized that surprisingly little is known about this historical figure. Here is a line, there a half a paragraph, here is an indirect mention, and very few specifics, and the one that was marked "presumptive".

If you put everything together, you get the following picture.

First, she was an Amazon. I already had a hunch about that, after that little story she told me about her past.

Second, Iphito is the daughter of Ares. This is certainly cool, but the god of war was a frequent guest in the tents of the female kingdom. Many of the Amazons could boast that their ancestor was an Olympian.

But beyond that, the information was negligible. I had to dig up myths and legends that coincided with the dates of her life. And that's what I dug out of this search and comparison, which made me lean back in my chair, a little shocked.

Ithito commanded the Eastern Army of the kingdom. During the attack of Heracles and Theseus, she and her army were on a distant campaign, fighting the Persians. Upon her return, she learned that the "golden pair" of heroes had defeated the kingdom and kidnapped the queen, Antiopa. Iphito, however, thought of her as her sister, which in principle is true if you look at her father. Together with the loyal Amazons, she did not wait for the gathering of a general army to march on Athens. And probably, this decision was correct since the public campaign of the Amazons for their queen did not take place until several years after the kidnapping. She and a small detachment immediately rushed in pursuit of Hercules' army. For more than a year, Iphito and just a couple of hundred Amazons waged their little war, swooping like a hurricane on the camps of the army of the Greatest of Heroes, attacking while marching, and killing at every opportunity...

They even managed to kill several captains of the enemy army, as well as reduce its number by almost a third. Near Athens, having already lost all her loyal female warriors, Iphito threw herself into a hopeless attack. Alone, she managed to break through the entire enemy camp, up to the tents of the commanders, leaving in her path the corpses of dozens of veterans hardened in numerous campaigns. But almost reaching her goal, she received an arrow in the thigh from Theseus and was killed by Hercules.

In itself, the story itself is worthy of being sung in an ancient tragedy. But I was struck by a paragraph I found by chance, a translation of a scroll from the Achaean from a book study called "The Detailed History of Hercules," where it was written:

"During her little war, Iphito, nicknamed the Stormbearer Avenger, had several times personally confronted Hercules and Theseus in battle, but she was never able to take back Antiopa..."

I reread these two lines ten times...

Several times...

Excuse me what?!

The Lernaean Hydra was enough for one time and one Hercules.

Yes, even Cerberus, the Hades guardian, one such encounter was more than enough.

And Iphito fought both Hercules and Theseus at once! And since the phrase "several times" is present, even without having won, she obviously remained alive and healthy since she could continue the attacks. I do not know any other legendary characters who could survive at least one such battle. And the word "several" implies at least three such "encounters"...

Wow!

No, of course, I guessed that Illea was very tough, but not that tough!

And it is clear why, with his intonation, Egray Mint put her countenance even higher than that of Lance. To him, blessed by Theseus, the name Iphito must be very familiar!

I would have kept looking for more information, but it was almost half past three, which meant I had very little sleep left. I pushed my curiosity to the back of my mind and forced myself to lie down. If it were not for Lance's lessons, I probably would not have fallen asleep, tossing and pondering, but meditation is a very useful thing in life, and it saved me this time, too...

In the morning, after a run, after having breakfast at the Goon's base, I got up from the table and went to the gym as usual, but Lance stopped me.

"Sit down." He said. "There are more important things to do today."

"Which ones?" Oh, I don't want that.

"For example, to talk." Well, now I'm going to be pummeled. "The guys have already told me everything in detail, and now it's time to hear your version of the rescue operation."

I knew it... Well, there was no way around it, and if that was the case, there was no point in trying to keep quiet. I poured myself a large mug of tea and began my story. My monologue turned out to be long because, after almost every sentence, the commander asked for explanations or additional details.

"Well..." Lance drummed his fingers on the table as he finished the story. "I didn't expect... And that's putting it mildly... If you think I'm going to scold you, you're certainly right because you made one critical mistake and a bunch of minor and medium ones. What do you think was the biggest mistake in your plan, to clarify at once, not in the execution of the plan, but at the planning stage?"

"Too many assumptions?"

"You phrased it too vaguely ... I was taught to play from the bluff, and your plan, to be honest, would be quite good in this strategy if it were not for one but". These words came as a complete surprise to me, I thought I was about to be scolded, but here I was almost praised. "Such strategies can not be used without knowing the enemy. If you had a mental portrait of Smith and used it to build your model of behavior and actions, then I would not say a word to you. Yes, it would still be risky, but it would be an acceptable risk. But you went into the thick of it, not knowing anything about who you were going to play against."

"Not quite right." I understood his objection, and I had an answer to it. "I had the information and not a little of it."

"Yes?" Folding his arms across his chest, Lance leaned back in his chair. "Go on."

"I'm not bad at reading faces." Yeah, that's almost right, works mostly on peers and completely fails on girls and personalities like Daas, for example. "I had a lot of pictures of this Smith, so I had some idea of his character. Also, his reputation and area of operation, for example, the fact that he didn't get involved with drugs or outright robbery but preferred blackmail, bribery, and pressure ... It's showed that he preferred to act in a certain way, minimizing unnecessary risks. He obviously did not chase fast money because state contracts and games with officials are long-term investments compared to drugs and robbery.

А

Since his face was clearly not disfigured by evidence of intelligence, I had to play against an intuitive, cowardly, and cruel individual. Besides, his villa is in the form of an imitation castle. If he really needed a house-fortress in modern conditions, it would be more logical to build something less pretentious in appearance but much more practical. That is, it was a symbolic house that was very important to him, which reveals such a character trait as the desire to visualize his power and the fact that it is very important to him how he looks in the eyes of others, especially in the eyes of his subordinates. This is why I had little doubt that he did not care whether Gerhard died or lived but that his people would think he was dead. Because for such people, it is more important to appear than to be. From this assumption, I built my strategy...

"Were you trained as a psychologist for antisocial personalities? Have you taken a negotiation course? Have you had much contact with criminal figures in your life?" To all these questions, I shake my head in the negative. "Everything you just told me is just clichés from movies and books, and an excuse for your intuitive hunch. Yes, this time, your premonitions overlapped, and I, remembering your Leek, agreed to the operation. But, you shouldn't make a habit of planning something on which your life and the lives of others depend."

"That makes sense to me." The fact that I was revealed at the very end cleared my brain of all elements of narcissism.

"Well, that's good. Now for the details. When did you get there? At night... Why didn't you wear visors? All right for you, the main part of the operation with your participation was planned in the lighted rooms, but if Phil and Hottey were your backups, they should have night visors by definition! That's something a pro would never forget!"

"Yeah... I forgot." I mean, I didn't even think of that detail.

"As a Utis, a player, and an ordinary man, you could forget. But as a Utis working out a plan, you have no right to ignore such little things... I see you get it... Next. At the gate, you played perfectly, "You'll talk to him" when overhead knocking T-14 - it would have got through even to me, not to mention some country guard. But next, next... Why the hell did you get into a fight when the guards ran out on you?"

"I wasn't going to, but that hog was moving so clumsily, slowly, and obliquely that I couldn't help myself. It seemed like a good idea to put them in their place and, since we were being watched through the cameras, to play on the nerves of the observers as well."

"It seemed a clumsily to you... Get up!" Lance waved a hand and got up from the table himself.

"Maybe we shouldn't...?" His intonation made my lower back ache.

"It is necessary Utis, it is necessary ..."

Standing across from me, the commander took a broom, imitating a shotgun.

"Did he run at you clumsily and waddling?"

"Yes..."

"Then repeat what you did..."

As he finished, Lance slouched down, his shoulders slumped, his feet pointing toward each other as if he were a head shorter and less dangerous, more like an overeating lout than an extra-class fighter. Having undergone this metamorphosis, he immediately moved toward me...

I woke up with a jug of water poured over my head. My knee hurt terribly, and the back of my head was sure to have a bump.

"Got it?" Lance asked, holding out his hand and helping me up.

"I didn't notice anything." Frankly, I have to be honest. "Everything seemed to be going the same way... Suddenly, I was on the floor, head down. "

"That's right. A specialist can pretend to be harmless when it suits him, and you didn't even think of that option. It's a fuck-up, fighter. It's a fuck-up... The main thing is that you didn't consider it. You're not the only one who could be in that situation, not what you tried to look like... You're just a chick, you can try to chase chunks, the level of "Jeans" already, but any more serious opponent will beat you like..." He slammed his open hand on his fist and showed me exactly what would happen to me. "And, yes, when I said Jeans, I didn't mean Blais. Don't you dare go at him! He may not be far of mind, but if he fights seriously and doesn't hold back his inner beast, like when Meck pulled you out from under their press, you'll need a machine gun to deal with him."

"I'm not as vindictive as my Face." I think I got the point of the commander's concern.

"That's good... First of all, it's good for you. Sit down, let's continue to sort out your faults."

I had to tell him about Smith's bodyguard. When he heard Lulz's name, the commander was not feign surprise. He said he had been looking for the man for a long time, but he had left the Typhoon and was nowhere to be found. The way the biker looked at me after I finished the story made me realize that I was very lucky to survive the situation.

The debauchery continued for almost an hour, and I have to admit, if I had felt cooler than AC and higher than the mountains after the success of the operation, I would have come to my senses quickly after this reprimand.

"What are your plans for today?" After giving me time to think, Lanc suddenly asked.

"I should go to the university. I haven't been there in a month. I just made a report call two weeks ago to the coach, and that was it. I got to check in with the dean's office to make sure I'm still there... So what?"

"Rick wanted to discuss something with you."

"Well..." I glanced at the smartphone screen. "I've got about four hours, for sure."

"He's probably up and at his computer by now. No need to escort you, I hope?"

"I'll go myself." As I got up from the table, I remembered an important question. "How are Mack and Jenro?"

"They are recovering. They didn't have anything serious, to begin with... And yes, there's no need to visit them. Despite the fact that we managed to bribe the police into thinking that the explosion was the result of a domestic gas leak, the police are still hanging around the guys. After all, there are three dead bodies we haven't had time to remove, and the investigation is still open. So none of us should show our faces at the hospital. Don't worry, Aloya often brings them presents!" He was obviously trying to tease me with those words, but it didn't work.

I still thought Aloya was a very beautiful girl, and I wouldn't have minded being in bed with her, but I wasn't worried or dreaming about anything anymore. Maybe that is the difference between falling in love and love. When you burn out so quickly...

Descart was indeed where the commander had assumed he would be.

To tell you the truth, the Runner was much more involved in team business than I was. Because of the constant training, I didn't have enough time to do it. In fact, I only gave general instructions and guidance, and it was Rick who implemented them. It's good that he's as much of a fan of the game as I am, otherwise, he would have given up on all this a long time ago. And not to say that not enough was done to prepare the team. Not even taking into account the Jenro simulation, which of course, is great, but so far, we have learned only one map, which is immeasurably small. I taught Rick proper seating, proper hand positioning, keyboard operation, and comfortable hotkey deployment. As well as such seemingly unrelated things to the game as quick blind typing and finger and wrist exercises. He grasped it all, as they say, on the fly, and already trained the others himself. He and I also picked the optimal and reserved classes for each of them, and the guys played a lot, getting used to their roles.

Isn't it just a little thing? But no, that's what makes a good game. But there was a disadvantage, as many of the players were bored by such activities, and they wanted more. At least full-fledged team games, and better yet, participation in even the smallest of tournaments. I and Runner, realized that at this level of training, it was a misadventure, doomed to fail, but we still agreed that it would be a good idea to sign up for a network tournament of some kind. Let the team understand its level. It will clear the minds of many. In addition, Lance has agreed not to leave the team for about a week because, after the collapse of the entrance as a result of the explosion at the chemists, all the gangs in this area of the city have quieted down, for a while, due to the intensification of police action. And given that, according to Descart, Gerhard is ninety percent willing to accept the Goons' offer, there would be an opportunity to replace the commander with the Slider almost painlessly.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The fact that things were working out this way was definitely encouraging. I would have been in seventh heaven if I hadn't constantly remembered the words, You'll owe me...

The folder with Gerhardt's case in Daas's hands clearly did not appear by accident. It all came together at a very opportune time. As soon as Lance announced his refusal to play, fate immediately provided a replacement. But was it fate? No... I don't think so... How will I have to pay off this mysterious Pat for the tenth player on the team? Something tells me it's not money.

In four hours, Rick and I discussed a lot, made a training plan, and I had time to work individually with each of the team, except for Lance, who was busy, and of course, Meck, who was still in the hospital. Watching the guys live, I was able to more accurately assess their level of play and the degree of progress compared to the initial replays I studied. Except for Rick, Hot, and Phil, everyone else was a starting silver at most, which doesn't sound like something to be happy about, but I knew that four of them had just discovered BAA a few weeks ago. And if you look at the situation from this point of view, then the future of the team, consisting of such guys, gave me confident optimism...!

In the dean's office, the secretary even shook aside when she saw me, so a wide and open smile shone on my face. When I looked in the mirror, I immediately realized that I was not smiling, but rather grinning, anticipating... Because, in my mind, I was already involved in internationals. After wiping off my face what I thought was a smile, I checked in and signed where necessary. Then headed to the infirmary.

Today Gerard Ducanier was on duty in the medical unit. As soon as I, after sitting in a small line, entered his office, the doctor saw me and whistled in surprise.

"Student Irzec, the abuse of even the most harmless doping, despite your young age, is nevertheless bad for your body, especially your liver."

What's he talking about? Аh! Oh, yeah... That's right, that was the last time he saw me before Lance worked me over.

"I use nothing. I just ate well."

"Yeah, and you gained twenty kilos of muscle mass in a month just by eating well." The doctor brushed my words aside.

"I've been training a little..." I looked down.

"I warned you. It's not my business to keep an eye on you." He obviously didn't like my answer. "When you go to the hospital with a liver, it'll be too late. All right... Give me your hand."

I sat down in a chair, put my hand on the table, and relaxed. The doc immediately began to feel it. He was clearly reluctant at first, but after a few finger presses, his face changed, and he jumped up from his seat.

"Well, well, well..." He came to my side and sat down on the tabletop, putting my palm on his knee and rubbing it all over with both hands. "Ahem... So... Wow... What if... Hmm-mm-mm..." He looked up at me after three minutes of this kind of mocking. "The Arch?"

"Well..." I didn't feel like talking.

"I see. If you want, I can put you in for an MRI, but I don't think that would be necessary. Your arm is completely normal." I was hoping for that, but still, now I couldn't help but exhale a sigh of complete relief.

"Thanks, Doc."

"Yeah, what am I to thank for?" He was surprised. "I wouldn't risk going on the Pilgrimage over such a minor injury. You made your choice."

"Do I still have to come?"

"Not as a matter of fact, but I wouldn't mind if you come back in about a month. I want to compare..." He didn't finish, thinking about something.

"No problem doc. I will. And there's a line for you."

"Ah... Yesterday they brought scallops to the cafeteria. People ate them up and have been running to me since morning for a fortified."

"Then it's probably all the more reason not to keep them waiting, isn't it?"

"Now you're right. I don't need a mess in the hallway."

"Goodbye, and thanks again for not being indifferent."

"Go on, you sycophant..." He shouldn't say that. My thank you was quite sincere.

Back at the dean's office, I sent a message to the varsity coach that I was at the university. But he never responded. On the way out of the nurse's station, I ran into Yol Shat, the team captain. I hadn't seen him in months; he hadn't changed a bit in that time, the same wiry, skinny look and the annoying look, like everyone around him, was nothing more than insects.

"You're the one I was looking for." So without even a simple hello, he started the conversation. "Sensei's busy. He asked me to talk to you."

"So?"

"What?" Yeah. I managed to piss him off with a simple street question like "So?"

"Tell me if you're looking for me." I was beginning to boil in anger. Oh, no, not at Yol, but at Sensei. That bastard, he hadn't seen me in a month. He could have met me in person.

"Here's the thing, we found a sniper to replace you." He says it indifferently, without emotion. "We've got a promising student from the polytechnic transferring. So you're at best on a rotation, which of course means a loss of a scholarship, but education is still free. This is good for you in principle, for the rotation and as a training-bot you will be useful to us even with an arm injury." That's how the big bosses talk to the little clerk, and that's how he's talking to me now. It's strange, before, he seemed to me, albeit a little arrogant, but quite a normal guy, without that kind of attitude. Or was it because he really needed me back then, and now my value in his eyes had dropped considerably, so he showed his real face?

"Officially you are on academic leave until the beginning of next school year, but you should start working in the team as soon as possible. We plan to try out new tactics in the next small tournaments and we are now working as hard as we can, so... When should we expect you?"

My eyes darkened with anger. Well... Well... Bastards... He didn't even ask how my arm was, even though he caught me on my way out of the infirmary... Which meant only one thing, I was written off, regardless of my injury. Without talking, without discussing anything with me. Decided everything behind my back. And what's most infuriating is that Sensei didn't have the guts to tell me to my face. Until two months ago, I respected the man so much that I was willing to comply with any of his requests. He was the one who pushed me to the Arch, knowing how dangerous it was, and immediately wrote me off to Kronos as soon as a replacement arrived, without even knowing anything about my state of health. And how he sang that "we need you...", "you've got brains...". How could I believe him?

"So when?" Yol says again.

The guy didn't realize that I could barely stop myself from breaking his nose and arms. All the anger I felt, at the world, at Meck stealing the girl from under my nose, at the mysteries of Daas, at Pat, at... At everything! It's bubbling up inside me, demanding a way out.

I'm sure since my arm is fine, I can easily regain not only my place in the lineup but I can move Yol from the captain's chair in a couple of months. But do I have to? Playing alongside him and submitting to someone I'm beginning to despise. Is free tuition at the most prestigious university in the country worth it? Many, even most, would answer this question with an unequivocal "it's worth it". Even a short time ago I would have answered the same way. Recently, but not now...

How much easier it is with the Goons! And let's face it, they're a real gang, or as the police say, an OCG [8], but they'll say everything they think about you to your face. And the truth is, I know the strength of the university team. Right now, at this moment in time, they're a head stronger, but that difference is temporary. It won't be long, a month, maybe two months, before the Goons catch up to them. And even Yol, who has been called a potential genius of the game, won't be able to handle Rick once he learns positioning, learns the maps, and gets used to team play. And me... I'll bet I can take that arrogant bastard down in a duel on any map, in any class, right now. No, I'm way out of line here, he really is unbelievably good, but I have no doubt that my current level is at least equal to his.

"Did you swallow your tongue?"

When he said that, he tugged my sleeve and slapped me on the back with his palm.

That was a mistake...

I would have restrained myself...

Honestly...

I was quite in control of myself...

Until he started it himself...

My palm rotated in a circular motion, gripping the forearm of his hand that gripped my sleeve. Gripping... Locking... Twisting. The other hand presses on the twisted elbow. Yol immediately leads sideways and forward because resisting and his arm will break in two places. A light, light poke of the foot bends his legs. A little more pressure on the elbow... And then he's on his knees. The action takes no more than a fraction of a second, and everything is done without fuss and flickers smoothly and very accurately.

"If you let your hands get loose again..." I leaned toward him and almost hissed in his ear. "I'll break every bone in your body, so you'll never play again. You understand?"

"Y-yeah..." Yol is clearly in a stupor. It's not that he's really afraid of my threat, he's never been a coward, but the situation has changed too quickly, and he's "lost," as Lance says.

"That's good."

I turned around and walked toward the exit of the campus. I had to pay tribute to Yol. Not a single word came out of his mouth, not a single threat. He knows how to control himself and obviously won't forget that he was on his knees. But what could he do, even with my now ex-sensei? Get kicked off the team? Yes. Expelled from uni? No! Short-handed. If I don't pass my midterms after academics, I'll get expelled. But I'll drop out on my own. There's nothing they can do about it. What about playing with them? No, I don't want that kind of "happiness"!

Perhaps...

Perhaps I have now made the biggest mistake of my life...

Perhaps...

Yes...

But then why do I breathe so easy now?

Even an unexpectedly cold rain that began unexpectedly could not spoil my mood. I stood at the streetcar stop with my face up to the sky and enjoyed the feeling of incredible easiness filling my body. The drops of water running down my forehead, my cheeks, and my chin seemed to wash away the husk and crust of my old life. A boring, ordinary, simple life.

Yes, the road ahead of me is not a road lined with red saffron, I understand that this is far from it, but it is my road. I chose it consciously, not under the influence of my family, public opinion, and the way it should be.

That's so good!!!

Easy...

It seems that if I push harder, I will fly up into the sky like Perseus, wearing the winged sandals Hermes gave him.

The phone rang quietly, bringing me back to reality. It was Illea.

"Utis, how far away are you, and how busy are you?"

"Near uni, and I think I've done all the work."

"I let Aloya go to the hospital, and then Jiro called to say he had a cold, and Daas had left in the morning to see Egray off. And like the Moira had it coming, people were pouring in in droves. Could you give me a hand because it's just me and Vera?"

"The streetcar is just about right, so I'll be there in about forty minutes." I'll have to run for it, but I'll have to make it in that time.

I had other plans for today; I had to get some sleep before I went to the Temple tomorrow, and I had to check my reaction. I had to, but I couldn't refuse to help my chief. Not because I owed her anything but because I just couldn't refuse to help. Of all my new acquaintances: Daas, Lance, Rick, all the Huns, and Vera and Aloya, two people had become almost family to me: our chief and Jiro. With them by my side, I felt as if they were my family. Maybe it's weird, and it shouldn't be. But I don't care how it should or shouldn't be. I just feel good having them around.

There was a full house in the restaurant, which was unusual for this time of day. People occupied all the tables closer to five or six in the evening, and now it was only half past two in the afternoon, and there were no vacant seats.

I changed quickly, so I took the bartender's job, which was something I'd learned, and I helped Vera when she was in the middle of something. Aloya came in at six, and things got easier, but since Daas and Jiro were absent, I had to work at the bar until closing time. Which wasn't a bad thing, though, because it kept me from drowning in thoughts of tomorrow. Still, pilgrimage is the kind of thing that makes me pretty nervous. When I think of Arch, I see the grinning mouth of an enraged saboteur reaching for my neck.

The restaurant closed at ten, and I went upstairs. I wanted to turn on the computer and download the test program right away, but I got over myself and took a shower first, and only then sat down in my very comfortable, familiar armchair.

Load... Click on the BAA icon. Loading the test mod.

Well...

Let's go!

Let's go!

Computer dummies pop up here and there. Slowly at first, then faster and faster. Wave after wave, bouncing and bouncing. And only barely audible clicks of the mouse and the bots fall, to melt away without a trace in a second. Fall and melt again and again. Until the program ends.

It takes at least three runs for proper testing, and I run it again.

Again the bots melt under the shots of my virtual rifle. One by one, one by one. And again the finale.

Restart.

Bot. Click. Bot. Click. Bot...

Three runs are good, but five is even better.

Again.

"Click"... "Click"... "Click. Click."... ""Click. Click. Click"... ""ClickClickClickClick"...

Loading.

Once again, the bots are trying to get to my game avatar...

Analysis of results.

Oh... Kronos...

Before my injury, I had a reaction time of one hundred and twenty-seven milliseconds per shot.

After the injury, the best I showed was a hundred and fifty.

Right now...

One hundred and two!

Yol has a hundred and six, and I have a hundred and two!!

But reaction time is not all that I wanted to check. There is also such an important characteristic as APM, the number of useful actions performed per minute. In BAA, unlike in strategy and fighting games, this indicator meant much less than reaction time, but nevertheless, it was believed that if your APM is less than two hundred, then you will never reach the international level. I used to have a hundred and eighty, and I took the rail mainly because it was the least sensitive weapon to a drop in this parameter. Now I was in deep shock, looking at the line in the completed analysis of five runs.

APM - 263

Yol Shat, with a score of two hundred and fifty-four, is considered the best rookie in the professional game.

Rick's reaction is ninety-nine, so he's got me, but his APM is two hundred and twenty.

I'll have to think about changing roles... It wouldn't make sense to play as a sniper with that kind of number. But... Yeah... I'll have to practice... If I can do it, it'll be the bomb. Yeah. Storm trooper plus Jet plus Tyra. And no one will walk away unscathed by my attention.

I really wanted to play a couple of games, let it be on a zero account, but still. Even my hands itched. But, tomorrow morning I was waiting for Arch, which meant that my desire would have to wait. Reaching for my phone to set my alarm, I suddenly realized I'd left my smartphone at the bar. There was nothing to do but get dressed and go downstairs.

The lights in the restaurant were on. Could it be that Illea was so late? But when I entered the hall, I saw not her but the boss.

Daas was sitting at one of the tables, with a working laptop computer in front of him and a nearly half-drunk liter bottle of fancy cognac next to it. The boss was writing something on sheets of paper spread across the tabletop, and he was so focused that he didn't notice me come in.

I waved at him but waited for no response. I wondered what he was doing. Daas cursed loudly, crumpled up one of the papers, and threw it on the floor. Then he grabbed the bottle and drank it. Well, what was the matter with him, a cognac worth about ten thousand francs a bottle, to be drunk like that...

After quickly finding my smartphone, however, I was in no hurry to leave, pretending to tweak something in the filling mechanism. Daas, meanwhile, tore up another sheet of paper and pounded on the keyboard with the speed of an airplane machine gun. Wow, I can't even do half that kind of typing! It went on like that for a minute, and then the boss leaned back on the sofa and took another sip of cognac, looking at something on the screen. Then he slammed the lid of the laptop with anger, grabbed it with both hands, and broke it. He broke the laptop, Just crushing it like malleable plasticine. Pieces of plastic, screen fragments, and various screws flew in all directions. But the boss did not react at all, continuing to squeeze the once very powerful machine, a masterpiece of computer technology, which was becoming more and more of a plastic-metal ball with wires, debris, and sharp corners sticking out in all directions.

"I hate it!" Daas whispered, and there was so much primal, fierce anger in that word that it made my hair stand on end. And then it was quieter and more doom-laden. "I hate..."

What was left of the laptop went into the wastebasket, and the boss got up from the couch, shook, and two more empty, one-liter bottles rolled out from under the table. Did he finish two and a half liters in half an hour?

Then he noticed me. His gaze was so empty that I felt as if the Abyss itself was looking at me. The True One...

Boss closed his eyes and said.

"I'll clean it up... Tomorrow... Never mind...

And without opening his eyes, with a confident, not even swaying gait, he left the hall.

It took me about two minutes to unfreeze; until I stood there like a sphinx statue, not even blinking or breathing.

I had the feeling that Keres had just walked beside me and touched me lightly with her shoulder.

Oh, my...

That's scary...

It's really scary...

Many times scarier than the sabeks...

On the order of...

Nevertheless, I must have caught my Face's irrepressible curiosity because instead of grabbing the phone and running to my room, I picked up all the papers Daas had scattered, straightened them out, and placed them on the bar.

Honestly, I spent ten minutes trying to figure out what Daas was trying to accomplish. He was obviously trying to solve some kind of problem. A practical one. Probably software. But that was all my knowledge, and education was enough. I could not make out any details in the pile of formulas, matrices, or graphic interpolations. Only one thing was clear: the level of education of my boss was two heads higher than mine. And if I'm not mistaken, he uses the Ligrett transform in his calculations. It is the level of at least a Ph.D. in mathematics. Our teacher said that when you understand the principles of the Ligrett transformation, you can immediately prepare for a doctorate. Then added, this understanding is given to one in a million. So visually, I know the principle of this pseudo-matrix system, I do not understand it, but I recognized it.

Stop...

Egray, on the other hand, said that Daas wrote programs for others and only later started working for himself. But I know that the core of "Find", "Buy", and "Friends" services were written by the same person. The Battle Arena of Avalon engine is also by the same person, and that person is not Daas, but the pride of my alma mater, who graduated from TUNG at fourteen, the "young genius of the century" - Dean Port.

Who disappeared ten years ago.

And no one knows where he is.

Dead or alive...

But...

If I'm right...

Oh, Gaia...

It all fits...

Dean Port ten years ago, thinking himself the most and generally the center of the earth, meets "one who is immeasurably better and stronger than he is"... A man named George, the one who is Hercules... And passes the Arch... Then Dean "disappears" and Daas is born... O Kronos! Ten Daas! Ten Daas! It's obvious! If you pronounce it in a confluent and fast... Tien`dahhas is a tendril from the Ancient Achaic. It's not a name from birth, especially when you think of his Face...

Well...

Stop...

It's time for bed...

Because I'm starting to shake with curiosity. And to ask the boss anything now would be incredibly stupid. But I'm so tempted to ask him dozens of questions...

So, sleep!

Now...

* * *