Chapter 14

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Eyes Eternal is not only a respected and wealthy organization but also a very practical one, preferring to have resources for a variety of occasions. The inn that was once bought for a departmental meeting will continue to work and bring in some money, at the same time serving as a source of collected rumors. Or just a place of recreation for the rank and file. The same thing happens to a lot of places and individuals who have been connected to the Secret Service in one way or another.

It is only in the imagination of the common people and shallow philistines the Eyes consist entirely of dishonorable spies, sneaky assassins, charming agents, and two-hearted traitors. In fact, in addition to such indispensable individuals for the secret service, the Eyes consist of many thousands of various specialists, often not related to the spy romance at all. Someone was limited to a few engagements as an expert, and someone worked as the permanent staff, but this does not prevent the spherical in a vacuum floor washer from being a kind of employee of the Eyes. After all, someone has to clean the floors in those rooms where the aforementioned spies and assassins have carelessly stomped with unwashed boots and not let the aforementioned spies walk on the washed floors?

And the Eyes themselves, despite the rigid vertical of authority, were far from being as homogeneous as one might think. Therefore, it is often difficult to understand where one Eyelid begins and another ends, who owns which training camp for youth, on whom the conspiratorial turnout is registered, and from which financial fund money is taken to hire and bribe agents of influence. It is not so difficult to understand individual issues, especially if you search diligently. After all, there is a limit to the usefulness of information, beyond which there is no point in wasting energy on hiding data if the data itself is worthless.

Of course, it is from the hundreds of poorly defended elements by both enemies and allies of the Empire some sort of picture of events is assembled, but there is nothing to be done about it. In the realities of Alurei, it is simply unrealistic to completely protect such a massive and large organization from the visionaries or quite material spies. It is much easier, more profitable, and cheaper to protect only really important nodes, to use reinsurance, and to leak dozens of different disinformation in time to make life as difficult as possible for colleagues. Absolutely reliable protection, as well as an absolute blade to pierce it, has never been created, although the attempts do not stop.

This inconspicuous establishment on the territory of the administrative district of the Eternal was one of those that did not try too hard to hide its secret. Yes, the guards and barriers were reliable. It was difficult to get in, and there were no loitering people around. Nevertheless, with a little time, a tight purse, and some connections, it is quite easy to find out a couple of details that are useless for someone but can be very important for others.

This place was almost a pure sanatorium, where all sorts of people were so tightly bound up in secrets that it was strictly forbidden for them to loiter around the city. Not too powerful and not too influential because such people could care less about "recommendations" and orders to protect their person or get a guard imposed by force, but they had access to certain places, people, knowledge, or events that made Eyes spend time on their protection and guarding. In general, the local contingent was represented by three groups of people.

The largest group are officials, scribes, and clerks who work with unmentionable papers, which is why many people would like their heads. Heads, of course, with intact brains, imprinted bodies, and ideally a captured soul. Not to say that there were a lot of such guys, but it was still easier to get a dozen scribes permanently than to regularly look for new ones to replace the eliminated ones. That is to say, even such people are sometimes eliminated if the secrets known to them become completely unspoken, but rarely. For other mysteries, there are other scribes - stronger, higher level, and with the right skills.

The second most numerous caste of vacationers were scientists, researchers, and mages who worked for the empire. It was not the mages, but their assistants and helpers, not close ones, but at the level of bring-do-write-test-go-away. The best minds, as well as the retinue of these minds, were those individuals who could not be put away, and if they were, then in a much more comfortable cage. But such analogs of laboratory technicians had to rest here.

The last group was, strangely enough, all sorts of appraisers and antique dealers, who were actually assigned to other departments and subdepartments, but they were assigned here. They, by the way, were not even considered to be not outbound, but had a good vacation at the expense of the state and were not against it. And here they had almost luxurious rooms and excellent recovery procedures - who would refuse such a thing?

It would be a lie to say that the secret keepers and other cronies were prisoners who dared not step outside their cages. They were, but they were still far fewer in number than those who actually used the power of the imperial organization to have a good time. And even among those who were forbidden to stay outside the guarded perimeter without an escort, only a few were uncomfortable with such an existence. They were loyal and reliable enough not to keep them literally in prison and useful enough to provide them with better content. That way they wouldn't lose their working spirit, and they wouldn't try to escape. Usefulness and loyalty - without either of those two things, a failure to protect themselves would be a very different environment, but we're not talking about losers now, are we?

A junior member of the third row, thirteenth-level Librarian Ollo Lo was not unhappy with his position. Like anyone of a similar class, he could not have become a Librarian if his passion for knowledge and books had not overshadowed his other desires. For him, who had no right to leave the Eternal Library unsupervised, or better yet, no right to leave it at all, the forced vacation was more punishment than encouragement.

Alas, but for the last week, he had been physically feeling how blank stone vaults and corridors of his dream job began to press down on him like a slowly subsiding mountain, gradually crushing a bug in its depths. Ignoring such feelings was bad for both his health and his work. He was not yet at the level or characteristics to overcome the impact. He could increase his stamina, and his concentration was already good, but alas, with his class, he needed perception even more than concentration. And with such a frail physique, which was not supported by characteristics, he had to take a break every three months. Three weeks of wasted time!

With his low level, this upstart orphan from the state orphanage was raising his levels like a quiver. The Eternal Library is, as you can guess without too much brainpower, the perfect training ground for Librarians. That's why they all strive to get here. That's why only the best, most talented, and most persistent get in.

The boy of fifteen years old and level four, who had just come out of the orphanage, was immediately taken into circulation. In the orphanage, he had shown himself to the best of his ability, having several skills that had been upgraded to apprentice. Most of the children, lazy and untalented, were taken to be laborers, merchant navy juniors, or private infantry in the army. The Empire considered its pupils obliged to pay their debt to the motherland that raised them, so few could boast of a good life. And the life in the school itself was not sugar-coated.

Showing a perfect score on the final Status check is one of the few chances for a normal life. No one will take a stranger into the craft guilds when they have their sons, nephews, or other distant relatives. And if they do, it's on such terms that it's better to be a laborer or even a slave. There is nowhere to get experience for taking levels, and for studying, you get only drops, which will not raise you further than the second or third. He had to twist and turn as much as I could.

Ollo did. He read everything available and wrote on pieces of parchment, walls, and wooden boards. He memorized and systematized any information. He trained his memory for days on end. Fourth level and three apprentice-level skills at once - enough to be apprenticed to one of the Librarians. Not the Eternal one, of course! At first, the most ordinary one. One of those at the disposal of the clerk's apparatus. There were very few books, and the archive was based on all sorts of reports and accounting. Strictly speaking, it was an archive, not a library, but for Ollo, it was a gift from the gods.

By the time he was eighteen, young Lo had already reached the tenth level, becoming a full-fledged Librarian, and his superiors, showing a nobility and kindness uncommon in such a cruel world, did not keep the useful but uninfluential and unprotected cadre by force, but encouraged his enrollment in the staff of the Eternal Library. The competition there was insane, but Ollo was lucky. Fortunately, not many high-ranking sovereigns or noble aristocrats choose the path of a Scribe or Librarian. And those who do, work for their own families, not for the Library. Yet this place, in addition to the enormous prospects for professional and class development, also imposes terrible restrictions, among which the fact of being a prisoner who cannot control his freedom is by no means the worst.

Ollo didn't care because he had found his dream, and he wasn't going to look for other paths.

The sanatorium, though only I call it a sanatorium, for the locals it was a recreation center, was self-named Pure Springs because two springs were running from under the ground. Because of these springs, the land was once bought by a disgraced family that had fallen into disgrace a long time ago, and then, after a showdown with a noble house that had survived the disgrace but reduced its property, the estate was rebuilt into a sanatorium for the employees of the Eyes. It would have been gladly pocketed by someone from the important bosses, but no one could not agree on who exactly to give this prize to. And when such individuals are unable to snatch a piece of property for themselves, they try to make sure that others do not get it either.

This place really looked like elite and guarded sanatoriums for wealthy citizens. Actually, that's the only reason why my brain analogized it to earthly institutions. The place was calm, quiet, comfortable, and friendly to the guests. Security and protective spells were present, of course, and quite decent. The other thing was that in our company, even Losius could easily cheat such protection and fool the guards, even though he was not a lurker at all.

But bragging is bragging, but none of us went there, remaining at the base. Our collective creation, controlled by me through Dream and stuffed with so many details difficult to execute that it made my teeth chatter. I had never before worked with live material so completely, so comprehensively. I had never needed to before, and there were not many people in the world to whom I would have prescribed such procedures without hesitation. But, of course, there is no need to be hypocritical - I did not do such experiments simply out of slight squeamishness, laziness, and unwillingness to dirty my hands too much with such killing and dense planar manipulation.

Speaking about our joint creation, I am rather limited by censorious words, as they are quite insufficient to describe the result. Sweet Melanie was high enough to be able to hang a lot of different and absurd things on these levels. No one even thought about preserving the soul and personality of the subject. I wanted to look her in the eye and tell her everything I thought about her, her kingdom, the summon of the Chained, and many other interesting topics. I realized that it would be a kind of moral masturbation, which would be of no use to me or the common cause.

It is very pleasant to convince oneself that the lady being brutally destroyed on all levels, from physical to spiritual, is actually a complete scum, and killing her, you are not a murderer, but only a blade of retribution. Pleasant and tempting thoughts because, in his imagination, Konstantin will remain clean and in a white hat! I can't say I don't like to justify my actions in this way.... because I used to do it all the time before I came to Alurei. It's just, that at some point when my clairvoyance reached a certain level, it became almost physically painful for me to deceive myself.

After all, I know exactly why I do what I do. Not out of a thirst for justice, not out of high motives, not in retaliation, but simply because I wished it and was able to fulfill it. Now I understand why Heroes were so disliked, why they went to such lengths to create Yoke for our kind. And I, in particular, still hold on to some beliefs and moral horizons, even if with a creak. Not out of a desire to be kind, but rather out of a sense of contradiction - this world is so insistently striving to debase me that if I give in to such impulses, I will be forced to admit that Alurei has once again proved to be stronger.

However, all of these thoughts are out of place, unlike what we've turned Lady Tannerkal into.

The main creators of this project were me and Hestia as the owners of the widest toolkit. Tia played the role of both insurance and stabilizer, calculating and recalculating the necessary rituals on the fly. A great master is something, and centuries of experience allowed her to adjust to our manipulations almost instantly. In fact, Hestia, like myself, was quite capable of controlling and stabilizing the results of her Mist, but we didn't concentrate on it consciously, trying to give ourselves as much room for change as possible, which would have been a little less if we had spent more energy on control.

Taria worked as a stabilizer for Melanie's mind. The thing was, if Hestia stuffed someone with as many vices as possible, the puppet would be a puppet, for there would be nothing left of personality. Very ineffective puppet because all thoughts and aspirations of distorted consciousness will be directed only to debauchery. The same can be said about Dream - if you overdo it with modifications, you will end up with a powerful and deadly entity, capable of only the simplest actions if it manages to keep itself in reality and not fall into Dream.

So it turned out that I and Hestia were making the changes, and Tia and Taria were keeping the changes in check, each in her own way. A very unusual experience, I'll tell you, but there's a first time for everything.

The shards of mirrors that I plunged into the body of the future construct, which had become shaky, like dough or jelly, had a variety of purposes. To generalize, the mirrors had several main functions. The first one was the encapsulation of any energy manifestations, their mashing and making them as insignificant as possible. A kind of averting eyes, similar to those already used earlier, but maximally concentrated and effective even on unreasonable charms or means of tracking. It was too easy to notice because it covered only a limited spectrum, leaving others open.

The second violin was played by transponders of all kinds and forms, which in the future, would transmit the information I needed by means of a psychic marker that only I could recognize. This multifaceted duplication was due to the uncertainty as to which of the "frequencies" would be able to penetrate the Library's barriers. As stated earlier, there is no Dream inside the institution we need, it is not there as a phenomenon. The mirror structure should provide a point of application of forces, and serve as a kind of antenna and a pass, despite all precautions.

The third group of mirror mechanisms was the control circuit, through which, surprise surprise, I could control this thing. I didn't get a full-fledged Nightmare like Weaver's critters. I mean, it would be even easier to make one, but a pure planar creature has no chance to penetrate at least the very first defenses. Or rather, such a creature has no chance. And I'm afraid to mess with those representatives who can. One such bogeyman has already opened hunting season on me. One of them is enough, or they'll cooperate.

To summarize, I got not a creature and certainly not a human, but a peculiar mixture of a living artifact, a complex system of charms with a semblance of consciousness, and a golem concept turned inside out. Unique, supercomplex, powerful, and absolutely useless, unlivable. Trying to make it as good as possible, I did not focus on the side effects. Expressing myself in-game slang, I pumped the character only a couple of branches, leaving the rest completely untouched. My creation was too crooked to even hope for a successful attempt to hack the Eternal Library.

But I wasn't alone.

Hestia took over the aspects of stealth that I couldn't cover personally, and she did a fine job. Creating the most concentrated Mist of Corruption possible, she turned Melanie's body into one huge isolation trap. The need to make any changes as depraved as possible limited the ex-servicewoman's enthusiasm, but even with that limit, she managed to work. And her imagination worked very well when necessary - she, even before we met, was quite good at improvising, and during our adventures, she had honed her talents to some frightening levels.

What Melanie had once been could fuck users of any plane, literally pulling planar energy out of them, encapsulating it in herself for later use. To become, for a few minutes, an adept of Heaven, or Darkness, or Storm... or Dream. Weaving together the remnants of the container body, the mechanisms of the pump body, and the base of the mirror body, the result was what it was. Hestia's modification protects from gazes, searches, active charms, and everything else, including specific search methods against adepts of Dream. One container inside another, and in the heart of it, a control panel and a radio tower for the manager.

The second major change Hestia was able to cram into the construct's collapsing energy was a kind of astral form. A rare talent among all sorts of monsters but a very popular feature among class owners or planar creatures. The ability to turn into a cloud of bright pink fog is not bad, but thanks to the previous changes, this cloud remained as invisible to everything and everyone as our creation is invisible in its normal state.

The picture was completed by the talent of obsession, which allowed the aforementioned pink mist to penetrate someone's body, merge with subtle bodies, and not attract attention. According to the plan, neither the recipient nor all sorts of scanners should know that there is someone in the hapless individual. Do you understand? A living dangerous artifact that can stick to one "host" and then change it for a new one, and so on as many times as necessary to fulfill the purpose. My purpose.

Of course, Hestia's creation desired debauchery and unbridled orgies. For example, in a state of obsession, it could indoctrinate the host with all sorts of vulgar desires that the host would accept as the absolute norm. Hestia's Mist has fused this mechanism with my developments, so the distraction field will allow the future host to do whatever it wants in front of everyone's eyes - no one will pay attention. The only thing is that I can't make this "symbiotic organism" act not for the purposes of "orgies-ogria-rapture-fucking" but to do exactly what I need it to do. Even direct control wouldn't help - the Library would easily trace such a direct connection if not automatically cut it off.

However, Tia's subjugation rituals, backed up with the bare minimum of essentialism to keep the whole structure from going haywire and exploding like a bomb, as well as Taria's hypnotic settings, will do the trick. The latter is the only reason we decided not to strip Melanie's remains of what made her Melanie. As long as there is a mind, however primitive, crippled by the Dreams and the lust for debauchery, the power of the dancer's tits will work on it, and the strange chimera will follow the orders given to it, rather than following its frenzied instincts.

In theory.

That day, which turned into night, morning, evening, another night, and a new day, when we finished working on our creation, we could all be squeezed out. Well, except for Hans and Losius, who didn't participate in the work due to other specializations. It wasn't even a matter of wasting reserves or strain on the mind - it was all quite tolerable. The reason for the fatigue was the timing of the work, the time of constant concentration, when mistakes were not only unacceptable but also dangerous.

Hestia's ability, though tied to the Mist plane, was still a gift but not a pure planar technique. To be frank, the strongest skill I had ever seen was something very close to a direct distortion of reality. The talents granted by the Mists of Corruption could be infused either from their energy or the characteristics of the one being altered or from the Astral or a very twisted connection to an element. The same allowed, albeit with reservations, to link them to the Dream.

Even so, the work of something that came through Mist without being fully Mist and my beloved Dream couldn't help but lead to something that would result in a nuclear mushroom on the horizon. No matter how much control we have over our powers, some laws of the universe simply cannot be broken by pure force and will. But they can be circumvented, deceived, or bribed merely if you can find the right loophole.

With great surprise and barely concealed panic, Tia began to do as she was told, and she did it well. If Hestia's gifted ability had been even a little stronger than the one associated with Mist, the cataclysm with us at its epicenter would have been a fait accompli - planar powers don't mix. But the line was thin enough, and our talents, on the contrary, were quite outstanding (I should not be modest now, should I?), so the unenviable fate of the victims of our ambitious experiments never came upon us.

Tia's rituals were able to hold and bring together the two poles of our efforts, preventing our creation from disintegrating simply from the jumble of active elements. The price for such a small miracle was the low ultimate durability of the final result - the stronger the activity, the more you use the elements invested in Melanie, and the faster the rituals will wear out. Individual elements would erode, barriers would thin, inhibitions would erode, and then anything could happen. I mean, neither Tia nor I, with all our talents in clairvoyance, can predict the outcome. But the most trivial big bang is definitely in the lead. Another reason not to overload it, but I was prepared for that from the start.

We left Melanie's body in one of the storerooms, motionless and as if turned into a full-length porcelain doll, and went to the common room, where the lazy people, who were not involved in the work, were waiting for us. The mood of everyone was unclear - we were tired, but we had worked well, and the System appreciated our actions highly enough, including even my own, as the instigator of the whole affair.

"Did everyone get the title?" I asked the question, knowing the answer in advance because the signs were so distinctive.

"Uh-huh." Taria glowed with pleasure because she had the least amount of work, and the prize was the same as the others. It made the dancer's smile freeze at that thin edge when her face was about to crack.

Tia and Hestia didn't mince words, just nodded tiredly and almost synchronously. Unlike Taria, who only shone her tits and said the right commands, we all had a harder time. However, the title was really not bad, quite paying off the tension and even a considerable risk of being scattered around in fine dust. It was strange that Tia hadn't gotten something similar earlier because she would have had enough time and experience for many, many more attempts.

I immediately gave myself a mental kick, realizing the stupidity of the thought - there couldn't be many such attempts, even in theory. For me, this kind of work, when you have to, figuratively speaking, change the engine in the car right on the move, has become relatively habitual, but any sane individual with microscopic rudiments of common sense, after calculating the risks, would have said the classic "fuck it" and thought of a less painful way to kill himself against the wall.

We literally took several completely different techniques and tried to make a working structure out of them just on the fly! It's like taking the engine from a Ford T, the front end from a Toyota, the doors from a bank safe, the wheels from the nearest drugstore, and sticking a tank turret on top of it and hoping it will go on the first try! How come Tia didn't try to talk some sense into me? Or did she just think I had a normal plan of action, and when she realized it was closer to the normal one in Kostik's style, it was too late to retreat?

I slanted my eyes at the messages that popped up and began to read another message from the forces of the supernatural above mere mortals. This time it was not a legend but a simple epic, but the risk was relatively tolerable, even if only in my very perverted view.

Weaving Together (epic): it's hard for mages of completely different disciplines to work together on a single goal unless the goal is a big explosion. You've managed to pull off an act of creation that is stable enough, to not crumble into ashes with the hapless creators. This reckless enthusiasm must be rewarded. Bonus: +5 to the Energy, Concentration, and Perception; joint and multidirectional interactions with mages of other specialties are easier.

The fact the entire foursome had gotten the title was pretty obvious - it was given out at the same time, so we all reacted at once. Tia just closed her eyes for a second, Taria flinched and waved away something invisible, and Hestia froze like a statue for a moment. I didn't need to be a clairvoyant to understand the reason for this behavior because it was the same reason that came to my mind. However, this time the reward was not only a title but also a development, something I hadn't seen in a long time.

Web of Souls: 1/9

Allows to work with the very essence of the victim, reinforcing any influence on the mind with profound changes in the essence; allows, with sufficient effort, to exchange the particles of the victim's essence for more dense influence, which affects the mind and body; allows, with some difficulty, to change the Status effects of the victim; allows, at the limit of concentration to merge and mix the essences of separate individuals.

This is probably the last skill I'll be developing - it's almost entirely focused on the aspects I absentmindedly dislike Weaver for, as much as he absentmindedly dislikes me. Combined with Soaring and Weave, this skill is the perfect platform for building your pocket army. A much more suitable tool than the shadow class provided to me, even if the Overlord can also mob creatures when needed.

I'd been able to create Dream constructs with limited self-awareness before, and I'd even experimented a little while we'd been out in the wilds. For that matter, I'd been able to do it since the storming of Stone, when I'd remade a nightmare of my own. But thanks to this skill, I don't have to strain my strength for every beast and torture myself trying to put it together. Just take a living victim and attach the desired aspects to it, spin mirrors with ready-made complexes of charms directly into their docile flesh, getting, in the end, a perfect servant, a valuable tool.

Fuck it.

It was better to use this skill in a non-core direction, simply simplifying the influence on the mind and rewiring of brains, which were already developed to a level that frightened me. No matter how morally ambiguous it is to dig into other people's brains and make changes in their brains but working with souls, and such work, is still nauseating. For the sake of a full-fledged Сontroller like Melanie, I still agree to do even such nasty things, but I don't want to touch this branch of my skills just like that.

Although, hell knows how fate will turn out after a little while and will I even care about such trivialities in the future?

Back to poor Ollo and his forced vacation in Clear Springs. The initial stage of the operation didn't excite either me or Tia, who had seen a lot of failures in the middle of nowhere. With everything stuffed inside the puppet, there was nothing to stop it, and no one to notice its appearance.

In my defense, according to our calculations, a date with a puppet should not affect the health of the recipient and the future possessed. I could have lied that I don't want unnecessary sacrifices, but why so blatantly bullshit myself? The point is, it's easier for harmless crap pretending to be part of the victim's energy to penetrate the Library's all-seeing sensory systems. And if we remember that the construct will have to change the host body at least once, my "mercy" quickly turns into outright pragmatism.

Let's imagine that the created mirror snake will throw off the same Ollo, having moved into the body of, forgive me, common sense, Pypysh Popyatchev. If such a move from one "apartment" to another will leave only a puddle of slime from the first loser, even if not phoned by Dream, the others will obviously suspect something. So Melanie's hosts should have no health problems..... instantaneous, in theory, unconfirmed by anything but speculation. But they shouldn't!

T.N. Ollo Lo and Pypysch Popyatchev. In the good old days, when there was no Reddit and Discord on the internet there were Forums, where people exchanged information. Forums have often fallen victim to attacks by trolls. They registered a lot of accounts in advance and at the appointed hour, filled the forum with floods. They'd love to fill the forum with more crap, but in those days crap didn't go over the internet well. Different groups of trolls used different slang for victims to know who was attacking them. The words Pysch-Pysch, Ollo Lo, Popyachsya, Popyachsya become a kind of meme.

The construct, still retaining its humanoid appearance, made its way to the Springs area, levitating through the wall. Looking like a full-length porcelain doll, Melanie, whose appearance had been altered from the original just in case (though, given the other changes, no forensic examination could determine the base's true identity), had no fear of sensors. The deception fields I'd raised and enhanced by Tia's rituals allowed surprise surprise, far more sophisticated charms to deceive than simple wind-based signal screens.

I'm not even talking about the fact that the eyes of passing guards, staff, or vacationers could not catch a glimpse of a lady walking leisurely by. What woman? There was no one here, ever, anywhere. Even the few crystals recording illusory images, if they had been in the doll's path, would have shown nothing. The outer layer of "porcelain" was almost completely inert to both magical influences and some of the physical concepts, such as those on which the local security cameras operated. And there were no such cameras on her way - it was not the kind of place to have such expensive equipment. She wasn't on her way to visit the most special of guests but to rendezvous with an ordinary librarian living in the Spring on general terms.

The creature's mind was eager to create debauchery, glorify vice and organize orgies, but Taria's commands, mixed with the controlling rituals of the elven woman, made it obediently follow the given directives, as if it were a robot or, in local terms, a sorcerer's golem, acting on a nested algorithm, not on a subconscious entity.... unless such an entity is shackled with the exact same rituals. As a matter of fact, it was from the golemancer's manuals that Tia based the rituals she used, modifying them to fit our situation.

It's funny, but I, even though I'm not the last brainiac, wasn't involved in processing the construct's algorithms - I just didn't have enough concentration for that. So I was almost exclusively responsible for the magical stuffing, but Taria worked with the brains almost in one face. Or rather, one bust. The girl was very proud of herself and was very happy to be able to show herself in action when a lot depended on her, and there was no one to replace her.

If we were talking about control, I could intercept the control at any moment and start controlling the doll directly, using the method of Kickass, so to speak. But if we created an autonomous module, we should check its autonomy before we pass the point of no return. Now it's not too late to turn the operation around and try to finalize the plan, the construct, and my appetites, but after the penetration (or an attempt thereof), it will not be possible to turn back or repeat the same trick. After the first failure, the Imperials will not miss the second "messenger" because they will be waiting for him.

Pity I can't save the game.

The doll closed the door to Ollo's room carefully, sitting down on his bed and waiting. The room was like one in a decent inn, without bedbugs or anything else, with a mattress stuffed not with straw but with some kind of wool and warm blankets. Not the level of the nobility, but a decent house, in which neither a rich artisan nor a clever merchant would refuse to spend a week or two. And if we remember that Ollo got this splendor for free, it was a good thing!

The boy returned from his evening walk only two hours later when the sun was about to set. Despite his level ten, he still hadn't gotten his endurance up to the limit of the human race, which was a bit disappointing. His job required him to carry books and scrolls around a lot, and he didn't have time to develop his Status. He didn't seriously expect regular afternoon walks would help him get endurance to the ten, but he couldn't help but hope.

When he entered the room, however, he forgot his thoughts as well as his fatigue, for he saw a very unusual sight: a doll stepping forward, throwing off the simple dress of a townswoman so her nakedness was no longer covered. When I said that our creation looked like a porcelain doll, that's exactly what I meant. She was beautiful in her painful perfection and absolute stillness. Either a work of art, some strange golem with a maximum degree of similarity, or a masterfully executed toy from a sex shop. The latter, by the way, exist here, and their goods are quite popular, especially in the liberated and enlightened capital of the Eternal Empire.

Normally, Ollo would have reacted violently to the appearance of such a gift in his room. Both because he was not expecting such a gift and because the doll, even in the most marginal way, caused the effect of the sinister valley. Too smooth and snow-white skin, too perfect appearance, and just a freezing expression of indifference on the doll's face. It's a sight that doesn't make you look at her tits right away. I, for example, if I were him, a mere librarian, would have squealed like a bitch, I'm telling you. That's exactly what I did in any strange situation right after I got to Alurei. Didn't help much, but I tried, yeah.

Alas, Ollo was not able to show his instinct of self-preservation, as well as the height of his falsetto, because, at the moment when his brains processed the image received from his eyeballs, those brains were hit by the surprises prepared by me and Hestia. The impact of the enclosed field that unfolded around the doll's body was really like being hit on the head by a huge ball of cotton candy. It didn't hurt, it wasn't dangerous, but it was confusing, and it certainly attracted attention.

In an instant, the doll's body became incredibly attractive, eye-catching, and thought-freezing. Quite a common talent amongst all sorts of seducing shit - the same Ygra also got something comparable from the Ring. I would even say the current Ygra has a more flexible talent, simply due to the fact she used the gift enclosed by the Ring very skillfully, and the impact came from the whole of her big green body, not from a temporary field. But in terms of the bare power of "hitting brains with a swollen libido," my handiwork left Ygra far behind.

And, as if the previous factor wasn't enough, the first effect was followed by the second. It was also a closed field, but it covered not just the doll's body but the whole room. The room where Dream sang softly with a low chime. Strange, distorted by pure vice, almost lost its volatile nature under Hestia's gift, but still Dream. A direct effect on the mind, which in an instant, sank into a kind of waking dream. A dream in which there was only one obvious and correct scenario, without any question, suspicion, or any thought of impropriety.

With a few perplexed blinks, Ollo Lo pulled off his clothes and began to fuck the surprisingly soft doll, which was clinging to him, eager to give him maximum pleasure. There was no mental confusion or overriding control through subconsciousness or behavioral algorithms, a level I had long outgrown. At this moment in time, on the territory of a single room, the decision to fuck the stranger who had come to him was the only possible and correct one, almost at the level of the world's Laws.

The stranger, whose snow-white body was rapidly turning black, emanating a barely discernible pink mist, which was inhaled by the breathing Ollo, going deep into his lungs and from there somewhere deep, so deep that even the most attentive Eye would not be able to distinguish this mist, was disembodied at that moment, but it only seemed so. After an hour or so, the doll was nothing more than black ashes, rapidly disintegrating in the air, and the Librarian looked around in surprise and went to bed without even getting back into his clothes.

His memory was already wiping all the strange episodes from the mind of the hapless lover, with only a little help from the construct in him. In the morning, this episode would seem to him a little shameful dream, which he would forget by the end of the morning ablution. And no standard traces of memory modifications, which could have been noticed by an attentive mage of the right direction or a talented interrogator.

Agent ready.

The agent is asleep and waiting for his time.

Turning away from the mirror and washing my face with the water I'd thoughtfully brought with me, I just nodded silently, thoughtfully analyzing the last packets of images I'd received from the doll, which had finally lost its anthropomorphism and, in many ways, even its life. The construct would no longer be human - that form was lost forever. It is now a pink fog in which a mirrored crumb flickers. A crumb that, like a jigsaw puzzle, can be assembled into hundreds of configurations, each with its own purpose and aspects.

Now I just had to see if Misty could get into the Library inside Ollo and if I'd be able to communicate with the construct once it was inside. Well, I don't even doubt that it will. Dream, especially my Dream, which I created, will not escape my will, even if it has been distorted by Hestia's talent. The main problem is to make sure this connection, the interception of control back to manual control, went unnoticed and without unnecessary lags. So many games had been completely lost due to high ping.

Ha!

It was only now I realized that Kostik, in the absence of his PC and favorite games, had created a game by himself. The main thing is not to get into a frenzy and not to start creating hundreds of dolls with nightmares planted in them for the sake of playing Counter-Strike with friends. The best part of this is that I can actually do such a task. I will create, then, an elite game for very rich gamers, and I will get gold not with shovels, but entire wagons, for selling accounts to all sorts of fans of war, not wanting to risk being killed themselves.

"In our Kraj, sometimes illusion mages have performed," Taria told us as I came to my senses and thought of great things. "By day, they showed all sorts of carnivals and monsters, and by night, not for everyone, something hotter. So one of them had an iron mirror in which a crystal would be stuck, and the mirror would show loving couples. Now I realize the crystals were just pre-recorded scenes, but back then, silly girl, I believed it was... what did you say, direct broadhast?"

"Broadcast." Tia, Hestia, and even Losius, who were quite familiar with the terminology, corrected her at the same time, but only the former Golem Guider finished her sentence. "Magical transmitters that could spy on someone and transmit the image to the artifact-receiver cost so much that their owner would not be engaged in mere flaunting in front of the peasant."

Another surprise of the local auto-translation system, which you really forget even exists. Here, take the same broadcast or other rather technical terms from the Earth vocabulary. Analogs in the common language are picked up so quickly and seamlessly that you don't even notice until you think about it. I would love to check the completeness of the common vernacular on really specific and teeth-grinding terms used by eggheads from all sorts of memetic British Scientists, but, alas, I don't know such vocabulary myself. I should have studied properly instead of decomposing on the boards. Maybe I'd be on the fucking earth now, moving science forward instead of this shit.

"Okay, enough about the porn industry." I'm barging into this highly intellectual conversation with the grace of a rhinoceros. "Who's got any thoughts on our little tethered animal?"

The question was asked, but the answers did not come immediately. To the credit of everyone present, they actually thought about the answer rather than just dismissing it. If we had such consciousness in the office, the chief would buy two new cars by the end of the year!

"It came out too independent." Tia is the first to respond, and she says it with an uncharacteristic straightforwardness for an elf. "This creature was created by us imprudently quickly, on the first try. No test drafts, no test fusions, which are glowing of all shades of insanity at once. But even if I choose to ignore the risk we took in taking on the cursed silver with our bare hands, there is still the question of the result. And the result was too willful and too eager. A lethal concentration of the Mirror's power, tainted and twisted beyond any acceptable limit, held together only by my less-than-perfect rituals and the force of Taria's order. The problem, to my infinite regret, is not that things can go wrong but that they are guaranteed to go wrong. The trouble is, we don't know when that moment will come."

The level of expression is such that this tirade could be translated in Elvish terms as: "You're all fucked up here, rebuilding the reactor with your bare hands, and the reactor itself, having miraculously not fucked up in our hands, just has to fuck up shortly, and pray imbeciles, that we weren't around at that moment". From the point of view of a pro, accustomed not to move a finger without a full plan of action, four hundred times confirmed in every possible way, we now really resembled lemmings in our dementia and courage. She too, had moments in her life when she had to act quickly and rely on luck, even before her "fall" had happened. But to voluntarily take such a risk while having the time and options for a normal, from her point of view, reinsurance package?

Welcome to the Kostik team!

"I dare to contradict you, Tialrianrelia." Hestia, too, caught a tinge of the eared woman's emotions, experiencing a slight resentment for our shared labor. "Do not underestimate either Tin's art or the power of Taria's gift. The creature's control is quite stable, as proven by the successful completion of the first phase of the operation. Even I can recognize that, even though I am not a seer."

"It is exactly because you are not a seer control seems stable to you." Without changing her face, Tia fought back the argument, rising to her feet and beginning to pace the gradually settling room. "We simply have no right to speak of complete control, not even the shadow of a right to do so without having conducted the necessary tests, without having worked out the mechanism of construct creation and tested it for purposes much simpler. This whole venture is so adventurous that I can hardly restrain the urge to burst into a cascade of swear words. You can't work like this. You just can't - luck can't be infinite. How many times and under what conditions could things have gone wrong, turned disastrous, or even cataclysmic in the creation of a construct? How many bottlenecks are there in our plan? Places where the future will come crashing down on us in a fiery shaft?"

"Stop being hysterical, T!" Hestia's measured and calm reply remained unspoken when the main "diplomat" of the whole group after my beloved me stepped in. "I guess you still haven't fully realized where you've gotten to, huh? We have our atmosphere here, where reassurances have no place because reassurances are for wimps! And no, I'm not mocking you. just a little bit."

Taria stood up, waved her arms that your mill, and began a hasty and somewhat confused explanation, beaming with a strange mixture of smug realization of her awesomeness and mild irritation at having to explain.

"Understand, T." The girl spoke, moving to face the elfess. "Tin the way you want, the way you're used to, just doesn't know how. You've been telling me about your daily routine, and I've been fucking listening. Well, sweetheart. You're tough and experienced and all that. No one's arguing that. More experienced than all of us. And right now, consciously or not, I don't want to start a fight. You're trying to force us to be your, what's your name? oh, right-- Leaves."

Tialrianrelia's gaze tightened sharply, becoming almost physically sharp and painful. Whether Taria had accidentally pressed on some of her calluses or not accidentally at all.

"Don't argue!" Another wave, interrupting a sentence that was about to be snapped, ignoring the same stare. "Everyone here understands your experience, especially Tin himself. He certainly understands it better than I do. But tell me, friend, how many like you are there in this world? How many cocksuckers are even tougher than you are sitting in corners? Comparable in experience, skills, levels, classes, and all that important stuff that makes you you?"

"A lot less than you think right now." The coldness in her words could freeze ice for a martini. "I have not held my fame or my name undeservedly. And there are few who would dare to say as if they were better than me in any way."

"But they are." Still as calmly and a little sadly, Taria continued. "And they don't just have one group of crazy fugitives. They have the full power of kings and kingdoms, full troves of rare artifacts, and huge armies that will come in where a stick up your ass won't work. And we don't have all that. And we won't, at least not for the foreseeable future, though I wouldn't mind being queen."

"All of the things you've listed only urge caution, not recklessness." She said, calmly, but still firmly. "Understand you too, but when I speak of experience, I mean experience like this. Undercover operations with long infiltration in complete isolation from any support structures are also experienced. The experience I can share."

*Crunch!*

A juicy green apple, which at this time of year is hard to come by if you bite into it right, can make a truly thunderous sound, much like Jericho's trumpets. In this situation, popcorn crunch would be ideal, but the Eternal Empire does not serve such a dish.... although I haven't checked any of the more expensive restaurants for it. The House of a Thousand Spectacles might do it.

"Am I disturbing you?" I wondered innocently, eliciting an embarrassed hum from Taria and a slightly awkward look from Tia, the latter awkward solely because she'd allowed herself to be dragged into the argument on emotion. "That's good."

"I thought there was going to be a fight." Hans sobbed pretentiously, looking enviously at the largest apple I'd snatched. "I'd missed such a spectacle. It was a shame."

"Back to what you said, Tia." I don't pay attention to other people's clowning since I'm a clown, cosplaying old Pennywise. "Then you're certainly right. Really, no kidding, right? There's only one problem with your judgment. You see. I'm pretty sure the Yoke issue was tried before me. It's not as if all those who opposed it were killed in one decisive battle or, for that matter, a traitorous blow. Some resisted. And they must have been a little more than a shitload, as were those who went after them. And all of them, the right ones, the experienced ones, the ones who realized the risks and knew how to reinsure, supported by their armies and guilds, all of them lost."

Another pause for a large "bite" on the same apple serves to gather his thoughts. Tia's words, as well as Taria's, are undoubtedly important, and not just because of the quarrel that has arisen out of nothing. The elven woman is not scheming against me, as Taria has hinted, but simply trying to make me think of the risks and safeguards without relying on the pathos of luck. A very correct action, by the way! It's a shame that her clairvoyance makes all of her attempts to casually lead me to the right conclusions work so poorly.

I could use a good school that the Elven Woods boast so much about. I don't have the nerve to complain that my methods aren't effective enough. It's enough to look at the Status. But looking there, at the same time, it's easy to remember other moments, the moments of getting all those titles or free class skill improvement points. And who but I would know how many times I've been lucky and how many times luck alone has kept Kostik's story from ending?

At my current level, some paranoid caution, so characteristic of elves, and even outright fear in dealing with planar energy will not be superfluous but rather useful. The only pity is that it is too late to retrain from scratch, and there are already too many question marks in the race column. Take, for example, this situation with the creation of the construct, when seven hours were spent on the calculation of all the risks, and then all they did was work, conferring and changing the finished "plan" as they went along. Such a plan can really only be smoked.

T.N. Plan in slang it's Weed of MJ.

And Tia understood everything, but at first, she couldn't find the right words, and then she had no time to convince me. Konstantin Yurievich, until the last moment, this very moment, when even the elf with her experience and endurance began to frankly hysterical, just did not understand, and what was the problem with his marvelous plan? Because I'm used to acting this way. Connection with Shadow, affinity with Dream, and the constant pressure of Inspiration have hardened my brain so much that I can really solve such tasks on my bare wits. With risk, insane risk, but still quite confidently, with enough skill to work and to cover the others, who have no experience of mine, from a sudden fuck-up.

She is right.

And I'm right too.

"But actually, Tia." I continue, having sentenced another piece of fruit after all. "You, if you notice such lapses in my judgment, which may not only mean a risk to me but also to you, my, how shall I put it mildly, craziness lacking... Anyway, let's go without the lengthy innuendos, nuanced imagery, and subtle attempts to steer me to the right decision. A good kick in the ass and a direct explanation with the use of mats would be fine. I might not understand the rest of it. Learn from Taria. She knows how to get the attention of an overly enthusiastic me. Now, back to the interrupted topic, what do you all have to say about the first phase of the operation?"

I think she's gonna hit me.

Maybe even with legs.

Truth be told, silently ROFLing behind her back, Taria, no longer on her feet, would be the first to be hit.

"The main problem with this fruit of your insane logic is that even with the braiding commands that gave stability to the mind of our created being, it is too centered on vice." After a session of Comrade Shepard's command understanding, our ranks were once again monolithic, and our heads square. "I'm willing to bet my dagger against the goblin craft - even with all the blockages, it will corrupt the host and try, however unknowingly, to bring maximum vice into their lives. And the huge amount of Dream, which literally became the essence of this something, would allow these unconscious intentions and pure desire to materialize into something... obscene."

Tia spoke strictly to the point and, this time, specifically to the points originally requested. Whatever control we have over what is created, we cannot control it directly and around the clock. I do not doubt that a Librarian named Ollo Lo will suddenly have an explosive advancement in his personal life. Simply because he passes a pretty girl a glance, even on mere reflex, and the Pink Mist sitting inside him (gotta call that shit something, and it sure as hell ain't the same old Melanie anymore) will immediately go into motion. The instincts of the essence of lust and debauchery being, simply can not ignore such things.

In theory, in a perfect theory, it would just become somewhat easier for him to make acquaintances, and even then, only as long as Mr. Misty is inside his shells and body. But in practice, I'm afraid things will be more fun for Ollo and sadder for my desires. It would be funny if the guy really collected a harem, and completely against his wishes. And a normal such a female strike force, which can bend and which can be bent! Maybe his personal life will be better than mine. If I have in my subordinates, forgive me libido, Ygra, which is too Ygra, and Hestia and Taria, on whom there is always not enough time. Ah yes, somewhere in the long-forgotten Arenam, there is a nameless bloodsucker who is not only "blood," but I don't even consider her in this regard. If it weren't for the dancer who drags me to bed by force every time, I'd be a classic representative of Ordinary Japanese Schoolboys or, for that matter, standard Chinese Cultivators.

There's a crowd of girls around, and he's only interested in polishing Dian Tian.

Damn.

And this image is even too close to my own. So I wanted to go and make something, not Ordinary Japanese Schoolboys but brutally Conan with the obligatory eighteen-plus scenes.

"I'm more concerned with not affecting the possessed," Losius said, thinking hard about something he'd been thinking about before. "What do we do if it manages to get in but can't work inside? I mean, how confident are you, Tin, that you can control it from here?"

I shake my head, pushing away either a compulsive delusion about Ordinary Japanese Schoolboys, cultivators, isekai, and my resemblance to them, or a kind of prophetic trance, and then I speak.

"I'm a hundred percent sure." There's no doubt in my voice. "I've gone to great lengths to ensure that connection. At least an hour or two of direct control, unnoticed by the tracking systems, I guarantee. If we're talking about problems late in the operation, we have to remember the need to change the carrier for Mr. Misty. And I'm not even counting the options in which I simply can't organize the search for which the whole thing was conceived. Various problems may arise with gaining access to the most classified of the classified archives above all levels of secrecy."

"Whoo-hoo! M-Mr. Misty?" Taria, as always, got the most important thing out of what I said. "Holy Sisters, Tin, but calling that thing Mr. Misty, yeah, that's your style."

"You said you could kind of put this shit on your as a glove, right?" My name-dropping talents, if they amused Hans, they weren't enough to throw him off balance. "Can't they track us? Army mages liked to track signals from amulets and blast them with fire and ice, so all we simple guys had to do was sweep up the ashes."

"No, it's all about the mirror shards." I shake my head negatively. "I told you, I think. It's a transmitter, and it's transmitted through Dream. You do remember there's no Dream in the Library, don't you? It's only in the structure of the Misty, so to pick up the signal without forcing the construct to open... well, it's much more likely to be found through an energy signature or some kind of conceptual closed field, but not through the Dream."

This element of the construction cost me half a kilogram of nerves and twice as much for the masking reassurances of Dream. I didn't want to bring Weaver on my tail, but I think he managed to create a single and encrypted channel of images that had no individual imprint at all. Even by my standards, this is a cause for legitimate pride.

"And answer me this question, Tin." Hestia waited her turn and, with all her usual pedantry, began to torture me for the facts she was interested in. "In a situation where..."

The conversation flowed from purely business discussions to exchanging stories and anecdotes. We were all in a good mood for the first time since we'd fled the House and changed locations. Even Tia, having been given a normal explanation for my actions as well as royal permission to kick the king's ass, if anything, for the purpose of driving the mind into the head by the rectal method, relaxed and perked up a bit. However, she had hardened the lessons for Taria, who was still trying to master undressing with her gaze. No matter how much she tried to convince the bandit that it was just a consequence of the fact that the student had reached a new level (not in the systemic sense) of her skills and the training needed to be toughened up, they both realized why it was.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

One is just about to piss off the other.

And the other can only get pissed off because the first one somehow manages to piss her off.

Still, it was a flash of clairvoyance, even if partial, when I thought about the fact that Ollo would be able to build a harem while Mr. Pink Mist was in it. The librarian never got a harem, but the "side effects" of being a neighbor were so side and so effects that it was a little funny and a little enviable. Envy, however, quickly disappeared when I remembered what the poor man was carrying around.

Taria laughs at the situation and demands that the " recording of the broadcast" be played back to her through the mirror. Well, who better than her to evaluate the attractiveness of content for adult personalities? I had numerous bruises on my face that prevented me from making this assessment - so many facepalms can cause injury even to someone with my stats.

The "some effect on the subconsciousness of the host and the perception of others" as I streamlined my assumption about the side effects, turned out to be not some, but very specific. So far, these moments did not interfere with the main goal, as strange as it might sound, but the very craziness of the situation was frankly tense.

The most memorable moment was when Ollo accidentally, really accidentally, got lost in the alleys of the Springs, coming face to face with one of the maids and in a relatively secluded place at that. Their eyes met, and then Misty took control of his arm for a second and grabbed the maid by the left hemisphere of her considerable boobs.

Outrage, anger, and embarrassment, ending with a resounding slap and, under the influence of the Dream field, no less outraged screams, during which the girl took revenge on the librarian for daring to paw her so unceremoniously without asking permission.... forcing him to grop not only her breasts, but her entire body, and then riding the poor man to the full satisfaction of the offended maid. This, I note, was not the first similar situation, but in previous times her friends and even a couple of random female vacationers did not come to the aid of the offended.

Actually, Ollo, who in less than a week had managed to sleep with a lot of maids, vacationers, and even with the deputy chief of security of the Springs - a medium-strength pretty lurker girl with a nice ass, literally blackmailed him into bed - would have suspected something long ago, if the construct did not distort the perception of his.

In fact, most of his adventures were not beyond those that could happen to the average citizen of the Empire of Ages once in a lifetime and with a lot of luck. But when such adventures, where the beauties around him act according to the logic of Earth porn movies, happen to you five or six times a day, then even the dumbest would suspect something. So the perceptual distortion through Dream was practically always on.

If that's how it works in the Library, it's not good. It would take some time, but they'd notice the weirdness, and they wouldn't be relaxed vacationers. They'd be pros who'd seen everything. On the other hand, already inside the Library, Misty's pseudo-mind will be restrained by Taria's much stricter commands. While Ollo is still at loose ends, the construct allows him to entertain a mind distorted by debauchery, but when he enters the business, the bans and programs will start to press in full force.

At least, I hope so because it would be a shame if all of our efforts only amounted to creating great entertainment for a bored Taria.

I'd never thought that among all my adventures, the issue of staying in a confined space for a long time would be so problematic. It's really depressing, especially when you have to sit on the cursed earth, which, though partially neutralized, is still not pleasant. And it's much easier for me because at least I have something to do, but the others have to find ways to occupy themselves with something just to avoid drinking strong drinks in unhealthy quantities.

Hans went to get food because he was good at hiding from view, and he was happy just to walk around. The Pathfinder is frankly bored because there are no tasks for him and not expected. The same Losius, though he is idle, at least can entertain himself with literature because he doesn't like fluent reading, but he knows it thanks to his home education. Hans, on the other hand, though he had learned to read in his time, had not developed any special love for this skill. Yes, he learned to recognize maps in the group of free archaeologists, though badly, and then, with our help, having mastered ordinary reading, he became terribly literate, but reading for fun still seemed to Hans some kind of perversion.

Taria was resting after practicing with her illusions. She was still obsessed with the idea of undressing beautiful women with her eyes. She wants to get a couple of skill points or a title for free, so she's been working on her self-development, but the original goal she declares day after day plays an important role.

As already mentioned, Losius was reading another biography of one not-too-lucky count, exiled to the mountain provinces of the Empire for misdemeanors, insolence, and socially reprehensible entertainments. Quite an amusing read, by the way, written without unnecessary embellishments. The ongoing war with the then still not completely subdued Highlanders was an event, though long ago, but still as interesting. I was planning to read this book myself when Losius was done with it, even though my clairvoyance had spoilered the whole plot.

I found this and several other talmuds through the same clairvoyance by opening an old and forgotten cache, where the books would soon begin to deteriorate. One of the traders, who had gone to ruin, had decided to hide some of his seized property in hiding places in order not to give it to the clerks. Some of it was taken away, some of it was found, some of it, like the collection of Alishan robes, was spoiled by improper maintenance, and I found and brought the books.

I've noticed for a long time that I'd make an excellent treasure hunter because with clairvoyance, any hiding places that don't have specific protection become the property of my greed. I guess there are only those treasures left in this world that nobody seriously needs, or those are protected really well. All other ways of quick and easy extraction of the money forgotten by the original owners have probably been used long ago, and new ones do not arise.

The talk of artifacts didn't come out of the blue. All of us were not shy about taking advantage of Tia's knowledge of secret trinkets. I wanted to know what wunderwaffles there were in the world and what to do if they decided to use them against me. Tia, without the slightest show of discontent, acted as a lecturer and narrator, listing the samples of legendary and higher artifacts known to her, with all their strengths and weaknesses.

From these lectures, I learned that the most valuable among such tools are usually not purely combat tools but auxiliary ones. There are exceptions, but all other things being equal, a Blade of Renunciation, capable of striking an enemy and depriving his descendants of all inherited and some of the usual titles, is far less useful than the Spikes of Tobystyr, which increase yields in an area the size of a small county so much that any vegetable garden will grow ingredients if not rare, then unusual grades. And what Spikes do to really high-grade plants! And these are only the basic, initial effects of both artifacts, and having mastered them, having learned them fully, you can unlock several more.

Truly powerful artifacts of mythic grade sharpened solely and only for direct combat, are too rare to speak of with any certainty, and their use is always fraught with some difficulty or danger. The same Wing of Nonexistence that Tia used to kill the Second Prince is too limited in its use, despite its off-the-charts danger and all-piercing power.

"This thing is powerful, no denying that, but only if the timing is right to use it." The elven woman said, returning the Valerium to the hands of Taria, who reluctantly gave it to her. "Pure Chaos is generally very difficult to put into service, and making that service practically eternal is even more difficult. The uniqueness of this lead-shooter is not so much in its special skills, even if they are dangerous if the timing is right, but in the fact that the craftsman who created this creation managed to organize Chaos so firmly."

"Well, you know!" Taria resented Taria somewhat, having managed to become attached to her toy. "If you had achieved great skill in wielding such things, you would speak differently."

"That's right. I'm just a master of the lead shooter and a master of barely enough." The elf agreed meekly. "And there are few children of the Stars who have chosen such things as weapons. And I don't an indicator here because mastering such an exotic weapon was a necessity for one of the missions, not a personal will."

"Then why are you hitting on my Valerium?" Realizing that she wasn't being hit on, Taria immediately began to resent it because she felt as if it had been. "That thing is powerful!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, comrade of mine." The calmness of a tech support worker with thousands of years of experience could be heard in the reply. "All battle Legends can surprise in one way or another. The essence of my words is that the process of creating this particular Legend is unique even against the background of other Legends. It doesn't make the artifact itself stronger. It doesn't make it better, just unique. It's rare luck to come across a stable artifact based on such an unruly power. Speaking of pure power, if you'll pardon the pun, I'd suggest looking at the artifact that gave you the ability to control other people's wishes."

I was distracted from another check of the Mist and looked up at the girls talking when the conversation turned to my ring, which was still too little use as a mythical artifact.

"Any questions?" I wondered, already returning mentally to Mist's settings, trying to think of a way to optimize it a little more without ruining it.

"By the way, yes!" Taria has an amazing ability to take on a new topic of conversation on the fly and without stopping. "What about the artifact that you used on me? Valerium opens new effects as skills and levels increase!"

"Taria, I, don't take this as an attempt to nitpick, understand, and do not judge your preferences perfectly." Tia allows a shadow of slight fatigue mixed with the mildest of irritation to show on her face. "I understand, but I will disappoint you in your aspirations of seeking new sensations. There are situations when an artifact does not get additional properties with the growth of the owner's strength and skill. Or it does, but outside the usual schemes if the very notion of habitualness applies to such things. If the ring received in the Hall of Choise did not show itself either on the thirtieth or the fortieth step of elevation, then one can expect only the forty-fifth or a full-fledged half-hundredth. Or, with all regret for the missed opportunities, not to expect them at all."

She is not being hypocritical when she talks about regret because no matter how immoral the artifact of the Perverted Mentalist is, the benefits of it are undeniable. The more so because for her kind it is immoral only to use the ring on other elves, but there is nothing in her moral code about humans and other underdeveloped people. If the Eternal Forest had such a toy, they would not hesitate to use it, perhaps even strictly on kickback, creating agents of influence in packs.

Actually, the new companion was careful not to touch upon the subject of the subjugating artifact, either not wanting to remember how she was going to voluntarily stand under its attack or because of her ingrained habit of staying out of the way. The properties of mythical artifacts were not even shared with her, and even with all her merits, there were a few things in the Everlasting Forest that she knew about but could only speculate about their properties. Personally, I've given her a fairly complete rundown of how the ring works. The only thing I didn't give her was the knowledge of the anti-admin attack and some minor details that I didn't want to waste time explaining.

A very different thought caught my attention.

Not even a thought, but a small thing.

Small trivia.

Tiny one.

Losius, who had been sitting silently, put his book aside, thought for a moment, and interrupted the girls' conversation with a loud clap of his palm, so loud that it was definitely not without amplification. Recently, Losius could not only use his power but also control it within a wide range, as if he were a monk or a specific mage of internal energies. Secondary consequences of acquiring a legendary class, allowing him to perform a lot of tricks not available to ordinary duelists. He had been able to manipulate energy in its pure form before but in a much less flexible manner. In addition, he had built up the necessary reflexes on the celestial blue beforehand so that once he expanded this facet of the ability, he could act with sufficient confidence without having to build up reflexes from scratch.

"May I wager with you, honored Tialrianrelia, that within the next hundred heartbeats, I will be able to truly surprise you?" Losius' voice is so cheerful now that you'd think his perpetually lethargic persona had been brazenly replaced.

"Your book happens to contain the encrypted access key to the secret chambers of the lesser imperial treasury?" The elfess asked, raising her eyebrows slightly in response to such familiarity coming from the always emphatically formal aristocrat. "If so, I'm already surprised."

Instead of replying to the almost direct "Are you sure, boy." Losius turned his laughing gaze on me, making me somewhat embarrassed, and shiver, and took away my eyes, starting to look at the extremely interesting painting of cracks on the ceiling. The remnants of the untidy cobwebs also clearly encoded the secret of world domination in their movements.

"Tin." Now I involuntarily pulled back, so obvious was my friend's barely restrained laughter. "Tell me, Tin, what level were you at when you last checked your powerful mythical artifact with your mighty Hero's Gaze?"

And watching, bastard.

Smiling affectionately and understandingly.

It's embarrassing, honestly!

As if I'd done something stupid again without even noticing it until now. No, what kind of baseless insinuation is that? As if I could really not even check the status of a mythical artifact for new and even more mythical effects that could have a huge number of different benefits? Who the hell do you have to be to do something like that?

"Mm-hmm..." I let out a pensive meditative sound, struggling with my ego being insulted without the slightest reason on my part, rather than embarrassedly looking away from the co-commanders who had studied my nature too well. "Mde-me..."

"No." Tia's voice hid barely contained shock and a kind of almost holy terror. "Well, no. You're just trying to play a trick on me, aren't you? To throw me off balance with a cruel joke in response to the times I've allowed myself to jab you with inappropriate witticisms? And you created your condition artificially from particles of stolen reflections. I am aware that you have a similar technique, Tin. I acknowledge your skill and apologize for the perhaps excessive venom in my barbs..."

A moment of silence for common sense.

A barely suppressed laughter from Taria, already crawling away under the table.

The half-suffocated breath of Hans's choking cackle.

Hestia's palm applied to her forehead.

Still, the same smiling Losius, as if he had won the lottery.

"You're not kidding now, are you?" I feel like Tia is about to cry like a little girl, not the mighty and legendary Fall Executioner. "A clairvoyant no lower than the legendary skill threshold, a possessor of a mythic limit class synergistic with clairvoyance, who has crossed the threshold of the fortieth stage... Tin, preserve, in the name of the Stars eternal and everlasting, my suffering mind, and do not let your lips say that you simply forgot to check with your Gaze the mythical artifact from the top bar of rarity!"

If my memory serves me correctly, every isekai is simply obliged to impress the elven princess with his unique outlook, extraordinary personality, and inexplicable, from the point of view of millennial masters of intrigue, deeds. This is the basics of isekaiology and the first steps on the way to conquering the cold heart of the proud Electric Drill!

T.N. Galadriel iconic name of female elf => drill => Electric Drill.

"Mm-hmm... Look, Tia, I never bothered to ask, and it's not polite to use clairvoyance." To be on the safe side, I also squeezed myself into the chair because the expression on the face of a forty-seventh-level liquidator with two epic classes was very bad. "Are you a princess in your forest? I'm curious."

First second.

Second second.

Sixth second.

Ninth.

"You really forgot." That's the tone they usually use to diagnose or stamp "fit" on a military ID card before sending you to Siberian military units. "Just forgot. An artifact of such power. Stars, it's been a long time since I've wanted to drink something strong!"

I'm pretending to be a piece of furniture. I mean, I resent such an unapologetic accusation of such impossible nonsense, which could not physically happen to such a mighty and splendid isekai as me.

"As for your question, I don't even want to know the reason you asked it. I am a distant relative of two of the Hierarchs at once and, given certain details and under certain circumstances, could be considered a special monarch and princess without the right of succession by human or, with more reservations, dwarven tradition." She answered my question, rubbing her face tiredly with her palms. "And now I need rest and complete peace, as long as my mind is still held by one fragment."

Well, at least I got her. I'd be happy as an elephant, but it's too much of a nagging feeling that I'm a bit of an idiot. Why would that even occur?

"Ti-i-i-i-i-i-n!" A drill bit screwed into my head as I extinguished the residual emanations of Dream in the already pacified mirrors after another check of Misty and Ollo. "Well, Ti-i-i-i-i-i-n! You're doing this on purpose right now! This is a no-go! By refusing to check your artifact out of principle, you're only jeopardizing our whole great mission!"

From such a high-pitched phrase I was distracted from the almost finished procedure, something reminiscent of safety precautions when working with toxic, radioactive, and viral material, and at the same time.

"Who helped you write the speech?" The check was not difficult but still just as painful and long, so the fatigue in his voice did not have to be faked, even to a small extent.

"Losius." The dancer admitted grimly. "And also Hestia, a little bit. Damn it, Tin, this is just plain stupid. Well, screwed up, who can be. Especially with the way we live, it's not hard to forget about a trinket you hardly ever use for its intended purpose. So stop being childish, and let me see it!"

"And you're not childish, are you?" I absent-mindedly fought back, finally calming Dream down.

"I'm allowed." This pest gives an unquestioning verdict as if no other arguments are even expected.

Actually, she's right. Not in the sense that she can be as childish as she wants, although who's to say she can't be, but in the sense that I should at least look at all the properties of the Ring. Because if there suddenly turns out to be an activatable ability to Shutdown the Server, which restarts the System and automatically removes the program cheat code in the form of Yoke, I'll be loudly cursing the whole universe and myself.

But the situation is certainly anecdotal - at first when I had just arrived in a wonderful new world and dreamed of my harem of luscious beauties, I did check the ring almost every day. But as time went on, my survival became more and more important, as did any chance of not drowning another piece of my soul in the planar blight. Even in Stone, having used the ring on Hestia, I didn't check its effects, though I should have.

In a way, it could be my rejection of this artifact, which puts me on the same level as those who put my fellow Summoned in a stall. No, I can use the ring without too much remorse, you can ask Lady Raimel about it, and she will confirm it immediately. But I prefer not to use the artifact, solving problems in other ways. It so happens I managed to solve these problems in such a way I didn't need the ring, so I didn't touch it.

It all makes quite a bit of sense, especially after digging into myself and realizing the reasons for some of my actions. Logical, explainable, understandable, and reasonable.

But, damn, so stupid!

Suppressing my anger at myself and others, I raised my hand in front of my face and scrutinized my very first artifact, which I hadn't used even a measly percentage of its power. How many people would be in my harem warriorhood by now if I subdued one lady every day, strictly by cooldown? Subduing, enhancing them with ring gifts, and helping them pump up. Now, at my level, I could just come to the same Melareth and take all their elite warriors, aristocrats, and mages.

Do they have a lot of women in the forty-level range there?

I'm sure it's not much.

Even if we count those who "only" crossed the thirty-fifth threshold, we have an illusory opportunity to gather a full-fledged armada. Loyal, dedicated, and capable of brainwashing on an exaggeratedly industrial scale. If only five or six of the hundred subordinates with talent comparable to the Mists of Vice or at least Taria's tits, it already makes your brains creak with the realized prospects and possibilities! And with clairvoyance and un-existence, I'll be able to cover the birth of my army without attracting attention to the ongoing sabotage and even leave high-ranking (with such levels) women in their positions.

It was a good reason to reconsider his principles and look for victims to his liking, even among the women of the city bottom, because there were enough personalities against whose background, even Taria before he met her, seemed the embodiment of virtue and an example of decency. Orcs and goblins could be practiced on them too. Especially since Mist could augment and supplement the gifts of the Ring and his own.

It's a good thing to think about, but I'll think about it later, not today and not even tomorrow, as Comrade O'Hara would have us believe. I'll think about it after the Library story is over, whatever that may be. Especially if it's not successful at all. If I can't do it by stealth, I'll win it with the Big-Boobed Army of Evil.

Yeah, that's what I'm gonna call this army! And the regiments will be divided by the color and size of the tits of the warriors of this army. All goblinoids, including orcs, goblins, ogres (you can go to the swamps to the relatives of Ygra), and trolls in Green Tits. People of Caucasoid appearance to White Tits, local blacks, which is logical, to Black Tits, and put Drow as officers. Beastmen catgirls and other beast folks to Fluffy Tits. Well, and elven girls, out of respect for the classics, straight to the Elven Tits as generals and top officers.

Divide the battalions into separate large units of Big Tits, Medium Tits, and Flat Tits. This way, there will be no confusion, say, Big Black Tits and Flat White Tits are sent there and there. And you can also select units not only by tits but also by butts. There, let's say, Black Elven Butts for subversive drow squads and just Black Butts for combat circles of shamanesses - color differentiation without the use of pants, you know!

That's it.

I shook my head at the visions running through my head and shuddered. I shouldn't have inhaled that residual essence. It was making me glitchy. For a second, it seemed as if this vision was some strange alternate reality where Kostik was a little more perverted, and there were more goblins and orcs instead of evil orcs and goblins on his way through the wild lands. The things one sees... And what he saw in such a delusion would not turn out to be. Perhaps even the truth.

Giving myself one last mental smack and pushing away the remnants of the strange vision, I open the system message that popped up in front of my eyes, assessing the canvas of text that opened up.

The Ring of the Perverted Mentalist (mythical)

This ring belonged to one of the greatest mentalist mages in the universe, absorbing some of his experience and skills. He was known for his power, but he was remembered more for having a huge harem of women no less powerful than him, completely loyal and obedient to him.

Properties:

Indestructible: the object cannot be broken.

Nonexchangeable: the item cannot be lost, sold, or stolen.

Mythic: this is a very cool artifact, be proud of it.

Granted Abilities:

Female Subjugation (active): By pointing your finger at any female of equal or lower level, you permanently transform her into your most loyal servant and slave. Does not affect those of a higher class than you. Activation is instantaneous and takes 24 hours to recharge.

Beauty Investment (passive): any individual subjected to this ring gains a relatively pleasant and desirable appearance (depending on the victim's original race, appearance, and mass), no matter what that appearance was before. Even goblins and trolls. Activation is automatic, along with Pokorny. The effect takes from a few minutes to a day, depending on the external parameters of the target.

Corrupting Female (passive): adds a variable set of permanent status effects to the artifact's subordinate female, aimed at corrupting the subordinate individual.

Admin, bitch! (active): when this skill is activated, all system administrators within a radius of a kilometer experience a sharp stomach upset. In the case of the absence of representatives of the specified profession, the skill finds one independently within the entire universe. Activation phrase: [shit yourself there], recharge one minute.

False Coolness (active): increases the hero's level by 15 for a few minutes without adding any other bonuses. If the ring is used under this enhancement, subjugation is applied normally. When reinforced, obedience does not affect legendary and mythical individuals and heroes and can be blocked by a defense skill. Activation with the phrase: [I am cooler than I look], recharge one month.

Repeated Corruption (active): Repeatedly adds a variable set of permanent status effects to an already subjugated female, aimed at corrupting the subordinate. All new effects are, in one way or another, related to those already gained, broadening and deepening their capabilities. The application of an effect puts random permanent perversions into the mind of the subjugated female or reinforces those already present. Permanent perversions have a variable power to affect the personality but, by a greater measure, do not interfere with full functioning. Charges: one per twenty levels, rounded down (currently: two). Activation is by laying hands on them. Replenishing the spent charge takes four months minus one month for every twenty levels, but not less than one month.

Panopticon of Debauchery (active): a direct effect on Reality, minds, and threads of Destiny, altering probabilities, minds, and realities in an area of space at the will of the creator and owner of the Ring. Within an area of one hundred meters plus ten meters for each level, any individuals in the affected area will, one way or another, make unbridled love to the nearest suitable partner or partners. The effects are inescapable and unstoppable by any shields other than the highest mythical and divine. Activation by the phrase: [I've seen porn that started the same way], recharge one month.

[undisclosed].

Yeah.

And I don't even know which of the two additions is more... more. The Panopticon, despite its striking power, is not a weapon. Yes, you can say an old meme out loud (here's another question: why the fuck does this meme serve as an activator for an ancient artifact?) and watch your enemies blow each other in the ass, but there is one nuance. The description says the effect will affect everyone in the range, including me. And I'm not sure I'll be able to cover myself and my team from such an ultimate ability.

No, I'm not gonna use that thing.

With Repeated Corruption, everything is both easier and more complicated at the same time, and I have a lot of bad but not confirmed by clairvoyance fears about it. So, enhancing the abilities of Taria, Hestia, and even, forgive me, System, Ygra is a pretty good plan for the future because I don't have any idea what will happen to Hestia's ability when she improves even more. Honestly, I would have used it right away if it weren't for the instruction to affect the brains of my companions.

I'm kind of used to the idea that add-ons in fine print, like putting perversions in your brain, are exactly the kind of shit that sucks the life, brains, and soul out of you. And what am I supposed to do if, in addition to developing her already badass abilities, the same Taria is turned into a barely-controlled pervert? Um... Okay, I agree, it's a bad example, but the idea is still clear. I can take a risk, but it's better not now and not in such conditions. And preferably not on the ladies I care about. To subordinate some left criminal and on it to check, and then watch the result. And only if the result will be satisfactory, not dangerous, and without tricks of the same mythical size as the Ring itself, to use talents on the same Taria, who, I'm sure, will be the first to challenge and bite everyone who will try to dissuade her.

Now the important thing is to explain it all to Taria herself.

Yesterday, a momentous event took place: the malicious effects of the Eternal Library walls fell from the thin bodies of Ollo Lo's junior employee, and the employee, who had managed to sleep with the lion's share of pretty maids and vacationers of the Clear Springs, was taken back on duty. Most importantly, he walked in, and he wasn't atomized, ripped apart, annihilated, or even arrested, which can only mean one thing - no one noticed Mr. Misty sleeping in the back of his victim's mind.

Everything went surprisingly ordinary and unpretentious, as I had originally hoped. Assuming the success of the initial stage of the operation is good, of course, but only now, when the assumptions have been confirmed, one can seriously count on something concrete and not on offensive kicks right in the insolent isekai's face.

Now it was much more difficult to keep an eye on Misty, even if these difficulties were quite solvable. In the past, while Ollo had been bending maids in corners and screwing the deputy head of his sanatorium's security in her office, it had been possible to check the facility every five minutes. Now, under the incalculable domes of the Library, even simple surveillance requires a lot. Most importantly, the resource of the durability of the sick fantasy we have created. Tia's rituals that prevent the Mist from annihilating (or doing something more interesting) itself, its host, and its immediate surroundings are strong, reliable, and brilliantly executed, but they remain relatively standard and relatively fragile, especially compared to the rest of the structure.

Every glance, every use of the mirror dust sewn into Misty, which will have to reassemble into pieces of a full-fledged mirror and produce the necessary magical impulse, will take away some of that strength and bring the moment of disintegration closer. We can only hope that Misty will be able, thanks to Taria's commands, if not to act on its own, at least not to die on its own, having given us all the names and passwords.

The hopes are fed of young men and also the office plankton with 4chaner syndrome and ages well into their thirties.

To my delight, Taria was quick to accept the grim reality that it wasn't a good idea to test the untested effects of mythical artifacts that had permanent effects on Status. I mean, in my mind, I realize augmenting an already strong ability could make life easier for all of us, but it would be irresponsible to test and risk it now. But, I feel whatever the result of the current mission after it, she will not get off me. And Hestia, for all her indifference, looks at the idea of rapid strengthening extremely positively. Only she, unlike her friend, is much more frightened by the possible side effects.

"The practice is widespread, albeit only among a small circle of knowledgeable individuals." Once again, Tia was busy educating the illiterate. "There are quite a few enhancement rituals, potions with permanent status effects, or even powerful artifacts that can grant power in an instant that would otherwise have to be wrested away with years of practice. Fools who were too fond of the power they were given, seeking more and more, and then even more, until they were killed by their greed. And death could be counted as deliverance, compared to the way they had to live."

"Have you ever been through this kind of procedure yourself?" I wondered, not being too insistent. "And in general, how often are there mythics with similar abilities? Because I can seriously create armies with this thing."

And wave a hand with a ring on it so everyone knows exactly what thing I'm talking about.

"There can't be many Mythical items in the world, and your Ring, even against their backdrop, is near the top." The elven woman looks at the ring with an incomprehensible expression mixed with sadness, shame, regret, anger, and who knows what else. "Artifact-givers, in general, are very rare in their nature, and those that give so many and so often... Even in the Eternal Forest are only a handful of them, and all of them, no matter how you look at it, are gifting by cheating. Your companions have paid for their gifts with freedom. Some will have to pay with something else."

I don't think it's so much unpleasant to talk about it as it is sad. To remember that she is no longer welcome at home for lack of a home is such a feeling. Even though I am unable to see that sadness, despite all my discernment. In her moments of weakness, Tia closes herself off so tightly that this in itself is quite telling.

"I've been through the gift-giving process three times, though there are many more ways and means." Sad as it was, she wasn't about to start a tear-jerker. "Among the Star Children, more influences of this sort are considered bad taste and a display of recklessness. There was one ritual complex that gave me increased resistance to curses and mind-affecting effects. To be frank, about a third of the star maidens undergo it, along with the aggressive stress course of resistance to slavemancy. Another set of rituals and potions, culminating in a gift from a powerful artifact, is only slightly inferior to your own. This gift was entrusted to me after the first two hundred years of perfect service, just in time for my triumphant return from another mission. Touch of Eternity has always been the envy of the Eternal Dynasty, which is easy to understand - the gift of this relic, among other things, allows you to push through the effects of someone else's control over the Law with your will and energy. It was thanks to this that the second prince was unable to freeze me, only to shackle me in a cocoon of Time that had stopped."

It's funny, but after the revenge, there is no hatred or even anger in her words and image for the man who died in a very shitty way. There was too much sadness and sorrow for her fallen love, but there was no hatred at all. It was as if she had put all of it into that blow, tearing it out of her with fiery tongs. It wasn't surprising, considering how much pain that hatred had brought - combined with the pain of losing everything she'd lost and been deprived of, it could make one go completely off the rails.

"The last ritual with another artifact, though only slightly above the legendary limit, was performed on the day I reached a safe ceiling in the ability to see." She was definitely feeling a tinge of shame for her weakness, and it had only recently arisen after the events as if she thought it was her weakness as a seer that had caused what had happened. "The only one of all the gifts that embodied not a title but a full-fledged talent. It is gifts such as these, which are embodied outside of your calling, and like the talents of endowed creatures, that are most dangerous to your essence. The only reason I took the risk was that I had already become quite close to the eternal Stars, and the talent given by the artifact was always connected with the manifestation of their power. I'd been lucky twice over to get away with minimal damage to my essence while getting the talent that had given me a boost in my visionary skills, not something useless or just too different."

Is she implying that the gift is random? I mean, you can get Taria's hypnosis and relatively useless stuff like Ygra's abilities. Yeah, they're cool, they're useful in many situations, but compared to the rest of the girls, it's her gifts that are inferior to the others. Or even take Hestia's first gifts when she was still a simple human as an example - also weaker, though useful for the case.

"What about alchemy?" I'm clarifying, because it's a question that's been on my mind for a long time, but I haven't had a chance to ask. "Your entire forest must have accumulated permanent enhancers, and in order to start risking endowment, you'll need to drink more than three vials of them, even if they're of poor quality."

"I have, after all, too often been forced to drink boosters to the upper limit of intoxication." She smiled bitterly, clearly remembering the bad words of her past masters, for whose will she had risked coughing up her liquefied insides. "The highest manifestations of the alchemist's skill, I will not argue, give much, but they also deprive much. The ability to stuff yourself with common potions allows you to get stronger by leaps and bounds while receiving an eternal gift will permanently reduce your saturation limit and give you a whole list of concoctions that will do more harm than they will to someone who hasn't received such gifts."

Makes sense. I'm speaking as an alchemist. You can drink five conditional spherical boosters in a vacuum and get spherical fifty units of characteristics forever. Or, you can not drink boosters but have the opportunity to temporarily accelerate yourself to spherical in a vacuum of two hundred units of characteristics with the help of high-quality potions. After the permanent boosters, the boost will be only seventy cubic-in-vacuum points, in addition to the fifty spherical points that are permanent.

Of course, a good alchemist, the quality of potions, the individual adjustment of the composition to the one who will drink them, and a whole plethora of other factors about which I, if I wanted to scratch my tongue, could talk for hours or just write a brick-shaped book. And there are, in theory, potions that can increase the limit of intoxication, for example. I brewed two of them (both with legendary grades) and then gave them to a bloodsucker! However, if we're talking about a really high-quality potion, they are very difficult to prepare, cost fabulously expensive, and few people can prepare them. And even with all of the above, they have a whole bunch of side effects.

To create an absolutely safe booster, that can and strengthens permanently, does not give side effects, does not reduce the limit of intoxication, and can be drunk several times in a row ... is beyond the power of my humble person in the near future... I need at least the third rank of my Mystic Alchemist and many, many reagents, where the legendary raw materials will be just for starters. When I can create such cocktails on a regular basis, then I'll start drinking them with my companions and I'll drink them myself. But for now, both I and all of them are more useful just complexes of ordinary potions of the highest quality, allowing almost multiply pure stats, strengthening skills, and the effectiveness of class skills.

The conversation continued. Taria was asking Tia for a list of all sorts of artifacts with the possibility of giving a permanent bonus to your Status. The guys were listening attentively, Hestia was reading another book that was taken from Losius in a bloody battle, and I was procrastinating and was very happy with this activity.

While waiting for the date of communication with Misty, I started doing other important and not-so-important things. I spent, for example, quite a lot of time in the dreams of Ygra, who had already missed us all quite a bit. Green put out all sorts of scumbags, laying and "secret" bases around the capital just immeasurable, with such enthusiasm that the immeasurable number quickly found a measure. I'm not talking about the monsters and other stuff, which she also devoured, if not in bulk, then every other head for sure, especially when it comes to strong monsters.

The snow had almost melted, and the knife, axe, iron collar, and sacrificial dagger workers who had begun their recount were rapidly graying their ass hairs, finding only empty rookeries, abandoned camps, deserted farmsteads, and all that in the spirit of Earth horror stories. Not a trace of battle (with very few exceptions, which included some thug of about 40th level and reinforced by some strange black magic, who managed to dance a little before being deprived of his head), only emptiness, silence, and desolation. No bodies, no traces, no clues for the detectives or even serious visionaries hired by the patrons of the human shit, fallen in an unequal battle. Ygra knew how to leave no traces, and with my cover, she wouldn't be in danger from the usual seers.

However, after the Adventurers and Guards were involved in the case, from which the mention of separate groups of robbers, thieves, slavers, and illegal witch doctors disappeared at once, I ordered Ygra to cut the fun short. Because no matter how moral the disappeared were, the search had been paid for at the highest level. It was probably not worth it to set Ygra against those of the Slavers, who had some serious connections among the Empire's elite and cover from the Eyes themselves.

Now the main version is accepted to consider the squad of professional liquidators, hunting people, and the second squad of monster hunters extra class, which for some reason, mopped up monsters and creatures with behemoths. And, with a high probability, these two squads do not even know about each other because the options of those who benefit from thinning certain layers of crime, even too many, but darn understand who needs to kill monsters, which do not eat anyone except for peasants. And not just to kill them, but not even to demand a reward for it!

When the storm broke out, I ordered Ygra to go into hiding, hunting simple beasts for food only, while I "helped" the investigation a little, bringing it to a dead end. I even managed to quietly put a few groups of "patrons" with each other, passing off what happened for the actions of competitors, but everything went quiet even too quickly. Those very cool patrons, whose slavers, and even a couple of ritualist-sacrificers and one top fighter with a level over forty were eaten by Ygra, quickly scattering everyone to the corners and searching with redoubled force. No, they weren't going to get away with anything, but the speed, power, and resource intensity of such a response to my actions were a very unnerving indicator.

Whose interests did Ygra hurt?

If I had a little more time, which was being mercilessly eaten up simultaneously by Mr. Pink Mist's project and operation "Olo-lo pysh-pysh popyachsya", I would not be lazy to open a very good protection of the offices of high gentlemen and no less high-ranking security officers and look. But for the moment, I won't risk splitting my attention into two fronts. This isn't an ordinary conspiracy or the sins of another aristocrat, which I can gut without stopping to giggle and sip cocktails. It's easier work than the Library, but it's not a whole lot easier. We'll put this mystery aside and come back to it when we finally have time.

Now it's best to get some proper rest while I can.

I visited quite a few old acquaintances, like that merchant from Ostmark and her faithful assistant, who was getting closer and closer to the role of her future husband. The lady had already managed, if not to take over the entire trade flow of the small town without taking her mouth off her ward's cock, then she was very eager to do so. After my past interventions, when all those figures, both those who planned to eliminate her physically and those who wanted to put her under the hammer of justice by false accusation, suddenly and without her help died a bad death, no one risked eliminating her directly.

And it was impossible to overpower her purely within the law - she was a very clever lady, possessing both grip and experience. She had acquired the necessary connections in recent months, and given the way she had taken the initiative from her competitors, it was a zugzwang for them. Not only are they too accustomed to acting according to a template, but they also lost the moment when they could have competed with her.

I visited Cassie-I'm-Not-Your-Comrade, who had successfully settled in Kraj and was in no hurry to leave. He had already created more undead than he could confidently control, at least until he took a couple more levels. Twenty-second level in such a short period would seem an implausible result, but given his experience and the titles he already held, it was understandable.

In the last month, he'd been working closely with the Adventurer's Guild, slipping a bit into conspiracy and showing himself to be an overly good bookkeeper who could both conduct a quick and independent audit of unscrupulous vendors and survive the audit. To the credit of the adventurers, or rather one of my acquaintances, a high-level Monk from among those who went with me to extinguish the center of the Cult, he was not going to be put under the knife. Rather, they were using him as bait, covering him up and waiting for the panicked freak who dared to steal from the guild to try to get rid of the inconvenient and somehow unintimidating and incorruptible kid in the most obvious way.

In many ways, this was what saved them all the trouble - Cassie-Befrend-to-Death, knowing, thanks to the spy ghosts, that he had not been thrown to his doom, decided not to organize radical revenge in the style of the mighty necromancers, and allowed himself to be heroically saved. He was about to order two dozen ghosts of about level twenty, hiding in their intangible form right under the necromancer's feet, to attack, but they managed to get him out without declassifying his true status. He was saved, by the way, by two adventurers I knew well. One of them was a lover of a good drink, who became a convinced teetotaler and his lady of the heart with a silver enchanted sword and a ridiculously large wide-brimmed hat. They rescued the boy and even began to calm him down, saying, don't be afraid, the adults are near.... until the young man's skeptical look was appreciated.

They live fun lives.

I didn't go to see the petty nobleman Weaver was looking after for the same reason I didn't dare to get involved in the mystery of the slavecatchers killed by Ygra. I didn't want to waste too much energy. It is watching the adventures of a non-alcoholic monk I can rest my soul, but there, I will have to work and work seriously. No, I'll deal with Weaver and everything and everyone connected with him after I finish penetrating the Eternal Library. I'll have a rest due to the change of activity, but not until then.

But my bloodsucker, my bloodsucker in every sense, still took a lot of time. I'd expected all sorts of things when I left her to monitor the situation in Arenam, but she managed to surprise me. The powers given to her by the Ring, the transformation from the Mist, and my blood-based potions, at the same time, made her really high. And not just in terms of combat, though her fighting power would be the envy of many. Apparently, her gifts allowed her to take liberties with the brains of those she did not wish to kill immediately. And if slowly sucking out a captive soldier named Serge Kmanstir with the sonorous nickname Crimson, who had already forgotten his name and could hardly speak intelligible words, was, in general, an obvious necessity for a creature in need of another's life, then everything went... no, not wrong, but on the contrary - too much so.

One of the biggest merchants of Arenam gets a batch of smuggled amulets almost for nothing and, in return for a discount, must give the necessary percentage of money through legal channels for the subsequent organization of an orphanage, where the director will be very indebted to the old bloodsuckers, who also received a few bookmarks in the brain from the new bloodsucker. No, the peddler said aloud that he was not going to help the vile creature to devour the poor fatherless children, whom he had planned to sell to the slavers for meat in kennels. In reality, he just saw a great opportunity to cheat the creature out of money within the framework of the agreement and then blackmail it with the fact that it tried to violate the agreement with the Magistrate (the one that "sit still and stay out of other people's spheres of influence").

The merchant repented of his intentions cleaned his new mistress's boots with his tongue, gave all the necessary receipts and decrees, and then he forgot that it was not his idea at all, nor that he had a mistress. He also forgot that the head of the orphanage would be a man of creatures, covering the man from all sides. No one knew about the compromising connections of the future head of the orphanage except for the peddler, a longtime partner of the past Patriarch. A couple of bandits do not count because they forgot even earlier.

One of the Night Fathers laughed in her face at the suggestion to create a kind of analog of a debtors' union, which would not only monitor the repayment of debts by relatively bloodless means but also somewhat help those who need money more than life, and whose life depends on that money. For example, to improve their health or to rebuild their house after the roof collapsed, before they get pneumonia from the cold weather. Why should he participate in such idiocy when he will shake off money from anyone he wants? It is insulting to "give" someone coins at such a ridiculous interest rate and not give a shit about the problems of simpletons because the right and sacred duty of a thief is to shear sheep, milk cows, and scam fish. And he would certainly not give out the idea at the meeting of the Fathers, but he would take the money offered by the creature strictly for keeping silent about the offer itself.

What follows, I don't think I need to explain - the boots, the mistress, the memory wipe.

To everyone's surprise, this "union of money-grubbers" was actually approved by a majority of votes. And somehow, it turned out so strangely that almost all the Fathers were not too pleased but strictly convinced that this choice was a necessary evil, although somewhat against the thieves' notions. During that week, the creature visited more than one Father, and more than one pair of shoes was cleaned with a tongue. Among them, it was one of the first to check on the newly crowned Father, who was given the obligation to create a new structure and make it work. By a strange coincidence, this man, who had previously been considered a respected fence and organizer of smuggling elite goods for the rich, was also checked by an incredibly convincing bloodsucker, but in his case, did without cleaning boots. It was enough only diplomacy, promises of benefits, and compulsory bookmarks in the head of him and his wife (quite a nice woman). The latter, in case of anything, will unobtrusively guide her husband to the right thoughts and desires.

The guards, the magistrate, a few aristocrats, officials, and merchants - among them a great many, seemingly justifiably but somehow too suddenly decided to make their native Arenam a little better and one creature's boots a little cleaner. And almost next to every figure appeared either one of the debtors of the new mistress of the Nest, working for her almost willingly, apart from the obligatory checks of purity of intent and the lightest coercion, or with the necessary commands in a somewhat washed out head.

The creature acted in the style of secret cults, having obviously had time to peruse specific literature borrowed from an aristocratic bookseller, staying out of harm's way, working through third hands, and not even officially existing. But the city was, indeed, becoming a much more hospitable place, and the poverty rate was also falling. New workshops were opened because some of the craftsmen who were skilled in the craft but had no start-up capital were given good loans. Houses were built, artels of fishermen, hunters, and prospectors were organized and subsidized, and promising young people were helped to join the adventurers' guild for symbolic sums. And all this under the invisible hand of a seemingly nonexistent bloodsucker, who did not forget about her profit but gave a chance for life to those who remained for her cattle and bags of blood.

What kind of monster, in the earthly sense of the word, did I create?

A rustle that gave off a bitter sweetness on the tongue.

A chime, icy needles escaping down my tension-racked back.

The feeling of veins stretching out from your entire body, from which you are right now trying to create a violin by playing it with your bloody spine.

I had experienced these and a thousand other image associations, trying to make my way through the absence of any Dreams to the little piece of Dream that had been placed in the very center of that absence. The Library had indeed protected itself from dreamers of all stripes most radically and irresistibly possible by simply being out of range of such a hard-to-control plane. Yes, I suppose if I let the secrecy slip and pushed with all my might, I could turn one of the library mirrors or other reflective surfaces into a piece of whatever the hell the Dream was about.

If I will be able to find the Library itself, or rather the place where it should be, but for some reason it's not there.

If I don't get stopped by the other defense that's stacked in there beyond all decency.

If the active defenses, which are bound to sense my actions, don't atomize me through the connection I create.

Well, and also, if our doors, the ones in the real world, don't get knocked on by angry and sleep-deprived Eyes asking uncomfortable questions and sitting me down for a personalized bottle of champagne.

Fortunately, getting on the bottle isn't necessary just yet, for I have a beacon that is both the door through which I will enter, the eyes through which I will look and the glove I will put on. The obscene analogy of sticking my hand deep into a place where the sun won't meet comes immediately to mind. Misty, forgive me... yeah.

The connection was not formed at once and not without torment, but it was formed, and then I only had to look around and start thinking with my head. I have a good head. I eat, drink, and breathe in it - a very useful head. But jokes aside, every second of delay is a percentage of Misty's resources, and I shouldn't dismiss the possibility of being caught in sensor fields.

There are enough fields here, so much so that even the extra ones remain, honestly. Even through this glove, which dulls my sensitivity to a minimum, I feel at least a dozen different influences. And that's just the closed fields, and I'm not even going to count simple screens and ubiquitous networks of analyzing charms.

The main problem was not the sensors, which couldn't detect Misty inside Ollo's body anyway, but the architecture of the Library itself. I'd noticed last time the place looked like a bunch of independent spatial pockets, all connected by portals, all in the middle of nowhere. Well, I was certainly right, but even in my wildest speculation, I had no idea of the Library's actual size. It was a city within a city, for Ollo alone, being a junior fetch-paddy. He had the right to visit over fifty pockets, among which there were a few that would make a stadium with hundreds of thousands of spectators seem not so large. What to speak of the volume of those places where he was not allowed? What about the places that the junior staff member was not even aware of?

While reviewing Ollo's memory of the last days and his memory in general, I was choosing which of the predetermined options to use now. And I found the one that suited the moment and the situation in general, although it would require some risk. To be fair, there were simply no options in my plans where I wouldn't have to take any risks.

Justine Reneal was not Ollo's direct superior but rather a security officer who had managed to get a book class at level twenty-five and thus found herself in a new role on the Library's staff. She was entrusted, among other duties, with the transportation of some of the most valuable types of cargo (not necessarily books), checking what readers ordered to read and what they were given to read. In fact, in all likelihood, it was she or one of her direct co-workers who was the one who signed out the scrolls we had ordered from Losius and me about one of the merry civilizations of the departed.

Hm.

And it was she who could be asked about those strange adventurers who burned down the house they were renting and were suspected of attacking the diplomatic delegation of "our esteemed neighbors, whose place is strictly at the latrine." If everything goes as it should, I'll find out if I'm right in my assumptions because I can't check them with clairvoyance in such a situation. I'm saving the resource, damn it.

T.N. In prison, the closer your bed is to the toilet, the lower your position in the hierarchy. So, "our esteemed neighbors, whose place is strictly at the latrine." This is a reference to Melareth's status in relation to the Empire of Ages.

I didn't control Misty because of the same resource, and I certainly, didn't control Ollo directly. I simply transmitted the most concise and brief image packets. Misty received and processed them as far as his, figuratively speaking, non-existent in material manifestation brains allowed, where all the twists appeared after seeing Taria's tits. In his turn, Misty unobtrusively puts the right ideas and the general feeling of normality and correctness into Ollo's head.

The Honorable Lo was on break now. So he could walk relatively freely. Free enough to sit in the dining room, not in his favorite seat, to walk a little to the side, to eat, to come out at the same time as Lady Justine (she seemed to belong to some far from the most noble, but still noble house) and, waiting for the right moment, to pull her into a dark and poorly visible corner.

In any other situation, such a thing was doomed to failure - even if a scout-class woman wouldn't kill a guy with a reflexive swing, there would be no way to kill the witnesses, and there were at least half a dozen of them. But in the chest of Ollo Lo gathered from the misty dust a lot of mirror shards, each in the size of a pea. And once gathered, these mirrored peas began to move, somehow not turning the fragile flesh into mincemeat. Their movements created a strange oscillation, inaudible, indistinguishable, but as if taking away the eyes, hearing, and even magical perception of not only bystanders but even a considerable part of the sensory systems.

The mist itself also acted, literally pulling in any extraneous emanations, not allowing to notice the presence of Dream, even if it was terribly warped, to those systems that were created for the sake of revealing such deception. And the deception was not revealed. Humans and not quite humans passed by the corner corridor and did not even look. They did not pay attention to what was going on there simply because it was not their problem, not concerning them a trifle.

Meanwhile, Ollo was staring into the eyes of the woman he had captured. The woman was not ugly, even pretty, but she looked like a gray mouse against the ring-modified Taria. Light blonde hair, a thin and slightly elongated face, a sharp nose, and eyes tired from regular sleep deprivation. She only had time to widen her eyes when the guy kissed her, and then she started to respond because since this situation seemed normal, it was normal to respond to such a kiss. Otherwise, it would just turn out to be impolite.

They made out like that for a good five minutes and, against all logic, managed to cum several times without even taking off their clothes or going any further than kissing and hugging. No one saw, could not see, and did not want to see how, along with the unceasing kissing, a pink mist of mirror glitter came out of Ollo. It came out, simultaneously breathing in Justine and sprouting into her. As soon as some of the mirrored grains scattered to pass from body to body, new ones appeared in their place, taking over the function of the temporarily incapacitated ones. Then, similar grains began to appear inside Justine's body, also joining the game and speeding up the process of transferring Misty.

By the end of the session, Lo, who was nearly unconscious from his continuous orgasms, had completely lost his inseparable roommate, and Justine, who, thanks to her combat class and high level, was holding up much better, had completed the merger with this roommate. After she finished kissing and helping Ollo clean up her soiled clothes, she continued on her way as if nothing had happened, putting what had happened out of her mind as she went. She just wanted to make out with a cute guy, to their mutual delight. The guy, characteristically enough, also put the incident out of his mind even faster. Misty had set the necessary directives in his head beforehand.

Just for a better understanding, Justine Reneal was also Pypyshch's subordinate but of a much higher rank and, unlike Ollo, sometimes reported to him personally and even behind closed doors. My isekai intuition tells me that very soon, an unearthly passion may flare up between these two, and they will also want to kiss.

Well, isn't this good news?

At some point, I just gave up on all the precautions, especially since the search for our persons had long since died down, and decided to give us all a nice, good picnic outdoors. Check up on Ygra and introduce the green one to our Greenpeace representative, if you can call such an extraordinary druid that. In any case, sitting inside four walls was not so necessary anymore, but the rest would not be superfluous. Soon we should be able to hand Misty over to a disreputable hobbit. Then there would be no time and no way back either - if something happened, the feedback between Misty and me could be used to calculate, if not our images, which were certainly cleaned to a shine, then at least the approximate location of the place from where the contact with the construct was made.

We went out without the slightest trouble, without disturbing the guards with our inspection. Blend in with the crowd, avert our eyes with Dream's fleur, and pass leisurely. It is even strange that I have not used this technique before ... But yes, at first, I didn't know how to do it, then I didn't want to, then I followed the legend, and without it, there was no need.

And so, we are sitting on a small clearing, fortified with the help of druidism, standard, not dark, in the middle of a slightly less cozy swamp near the northern wall of the Eternal, where Ygra is hiding, grass sprouts from under almost everywhere melted snow, buds are swelling on the trees, and we are sitting by the fire, cooking roasted duck-hog according to Hans's favorite recipe and generally - indecently feeling good.

"Listen, T." Taria, who had already taken a glass of some monstrously powerful and penetrating even through her endurance liquor, began to question Tia once again, who, in turn, seemed to have accepted the irresistible presence of this agent of world entropy. "And how does this test of the will of yours go at the slavemancer? Not in the sense of how they weave your head, but how do you negotiate with them? With your love for these guys, no one in their right mind would sign a contract!"

"Does a chained blacksmith lose the right to forge chains, especially if he can't see his chains?" Tia answered the question with a question. Realizing she could not get rid of the dancer with a colorful allegory, she continued. "They are either chained in silks and pearl necklaces by the will of subtle masters or simply put in the framework of very strong contracts, which are almost impossible to cheat for someone with their level of ascension and path of predestination. But more often than not, both options take place, as well as continuous observation of the processing to avoid any accidents. A good slavemancer will not do irreparable harm, especially if he knows how his victim will be restored and even takes part in restoration himself."

Who's talking about what, but Taria about a favorite subject. Sometimes I think that when she chose the Dancer class, the world lost a future legendary brainwashing expert. Not in the sense of one with a legendary class but specifically a legendary one that went down in the legends.

"Then why bother with mercenaries at all?" The girl wondered, simultaneously accelerating sharply and snatching a piece of already cooked meat directly from the improvised fryer. "Wouldn't it be easier to train our own slavemancers or to use the same brainiacs who processed them?"

"To be fair, I will have to admit that pure slavemancers are rare among the Starborn, but they never take part in such training." At the same time, Tia continues to grind the herbs and spices I've given her in a mortar, preparing to flavor the meat roasting on the fire. "Who would want to work in a position where everyone would hate you for what you were forced to do to them? It's not easy to make yourself understand someone who has managed to break you, even if it's for your own sake. By appointing outsiders to such positions, we nip possible resentments and conflicts in the bud, that's all."

With a quiet rustle, the spices coated the roasted duck-boar in a thin layer, and the smell was so salivating that only a raised wall of shadow could stop Ygra from a brutal and swift attack on the food supply. With a resentful pout at her hands that hadn't even taken any damage, Ygra sat back on her ass and gave me a pitying look. At least she didn't try to kick me in the head and drag me into the bushes.

"Have you ever had this training?" As casually as possible, but so casually that even a goblin would have realized how casually it was. "Or did they never break you?"

"I was broken, of course." Without waggling an eyebrow or even thinking of getting angry or embarrassed, the elf replied. "A month and a half to complete the treatment, forty-six days to be exact."

"How's it going?" The main pervert in our company, after me, asks with impish eyes.

"Scary, disgusting, and unnaturally pleasurable," Tia replies with equal indifference, not giving in to the provocation. "Taking pleasure in one's condition is almost inevitable, but the bitterness of such an experience is not made any less by its poisonous sweetness. And please, Taria, do not ask me again about my experience with such a matter. Centuries may have passed since the day I was shown my weakness, but that pain is still with me and will always be with me. And only with me. Not with you. And not for your amusement."

She says the last words in a very special tone, not angry or threatening, but still evoking an underlying apprehension, a sense of an impending storm. The average person is likely to be unnaturally horrified by such an address.

"Okay, I admit I overreacted." Taria apologized honestly and sincerely, not even flinching at the elves' looks and words. "It's just that I have a hard time imagining you at all... well, you get the picture."

"I didn't always rise above the rest of my kin. My powers didn't immediately obey me." Tia shrugged, accepting the apology and not wanting to stir up conflict for nothing. "Now, that master of slavery could have spent a year or two and not succeeded, even if he had succeeded in restraining me in a cage. But there are those under this sky who would turn me into an obedient servant, despite all my experience and strength, should I happen to meet one of those masters on my path. Everything is relative, and there will always be someone stronger than you, Taria. The main thing is to be ready for this meeting because even the strongest of the strong die not by themselves but at the hands of the weaker."

The conversation continues, as does the savoring of the meat finally cut by Maestro Hans. The elves on Alurei, by the way, have nothing against meat and are not convinced vegetarians. If Tia is to be believed, their stomachs just don't take heavy food. So young elves who suffer from diseases and curses or who simply don't have the stamina to exceed the race's limit prefer to eat something light and not too fatty, except at feasts or festivals. And Tia, with her characteristics, can eat only earthly fast food and not even get fat. If we talk about the experience of an elf... Hans had once boasted that in the army he had learned to roast an ordinary rat in three different ways. Tia had responded with eighteen recipes she had invented during her forced wanderings with an empty bag of provisions, supplemented by another fifty recipes invented by her colleagues or mentors.

Hans didn't try to play up his army past in front of her again.

We talked, ate, caught, and cooked a new duck-boar, guarded it against Ygra, played cards, and discussed the books we had read, because of which Losius and Hestia almost fought. And then Tia intervened in their argument with her thoughts on the subject, and they almost beat her and just relaxed. Hans sang a gamekeeper's song, in which he replaced all the obscene words with allegorical versions, and then Hestia, for fun, sang the same song but in the original.

Then I was forced to project music into reality with Dream, and Tia was required to grow hollow wooden chunks for drums. Tia grew not chunks but real drums - surprisingly sturdy and even with relief paintings sprouting on them - and then played something tribal and primitive on them, which she said was the traditional melody of a people that had almost disappeared and merged with Alishan. In response to this, Ygra took the drums and played on them something of her own, supplementing the surprisingly rhythmic, despite its primitiveness, melody with deep guttural singing without words.

We rested like that until the booze we'd brought with us (and I'd renewed it twice because it wasn't hard to get booze through the Shadow) ran out, and the game in the vicinity of our clearing ran out. Or, more likely, scattered from our celebration - the Dream Barrier I'd created prevented us from being seen or heard, but it was still quite noisy around us.

We returned only on the third day, leaving a satisfied and gluttonous Ygra (to which Tia, by the way, reacted surprisingly calmly) to wait for our return.

Two days later, Justine came to report to her furry-footed boss and gave him a final kiss, while Misty found a host with access to virtually every area of the Library, including those of interest to me personally.

The operation was entering its final phase.

* * *