Chapter 21

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"You know why slime girls are the best? They're always wet!"

I looked at Stick-in-the-ass, then at Oleg. Without turning away from the monitor, he waved his hands, "I don't know this man". It's impressive how he realized that he needed a Booster for Intelligence. Did he read the guide? Although no, listened to the video instead.

"Look, Oleg," the protagonist of the TV series about the creators turned around in his chair and raised an eyebrow questioningly. We were sitting in his office, they have the main site here, and he was lazily assembling some video on his personal PC. "Why didn't you just ask how much the potion cost?"

The Creator sighed (he was generally a silent hero and preferred to communicate in gestures):

"We found out. But the minimum offer was one and a half times more than we collected as a team, and time is short. Is it really true that everyone in the System is such a crook?"

"No, it's simpler than that-you're from Skills, and everyone knows that creators always have something. Not now - you'll quickly make more, so everyone's cutting you off. We, Delivery, are couriers and drivers, logistics. There's a lot of money, and lots of opportunities, but all the time in the cold, stomp-stomp-stomp by the legs, and interact with unpleasant creatures that can eat you. And you "rich IT people", there, in the office, you're always sitting in warm armchairs, and all you have to do is to press a button with your finger. This joker," I nodded at Stick-in-the-ass, "seems to be in his office once a day? And he makes as much money the same day as I do in a month!"

"So what opportunities do you have?"

I condescendingly looked at the Stick-in-the-ass, picked up my phone, flipped through it, and showed it to him.

"Uh... So they exist..."

"The hand is mine. This picture is from the day before yesterday."

He frowned angrily because Mira's tail was clutched in my hand. She was looking over her shoulder.

"Do you have more?!"

"I have, but I won't show you," I said, and bent down to explain. "Your eyes will burst, you little runt."

Hmm, am I overdoing it with the " Horny Fatty" image? No, it's just right. Besides, I remember how I got my ass kicked by an adventuress for being so inconsiderate. But the picture was worth it!

"Hey, what's going on around here, anyway?"

Rastaman on the other side of me spoke without quitting his character, a little long and gnarly. Oleg must have had some sort of main stage show because as soon as I came in with the elixir, they dragged me here. Or was it an accident? For example, put chairs from the tables along the wall, and formed a cot for Rasta and a sitter for Stick-in-the-ass, so they got used to it? Then again, his coffee machine is expensive.

"Unreal happens. It turns out that humans are a magical race, capable of embodying fantasies. And what helps us in this is the breakthrough of the Chaos Primordial, which is either there or not, or even invented, but in fact, it is different."

Everyone was silent, pondering the concept. The first to come to his senses was Stick-in-the-ass:

"And why don't you pump up the skills yourself?"

"Different classes, apparently. Or innate abilities? I haven't figured it out yet, and how can you figure out what's constantly changing? Well, the general principles."

"It's kind of murky..."

I tried to simplify:

"Look - you can create the skill of walking through worlds. And where I depend on the System, you will walk freely and easily."

"Yeah, right on! I only have four slots, one for combat, and one for survivability! Does Delivery have that?"

I estimated: "We also have slots, but for equipment, and without restrictions on the level. You can wear whatever you want. But the stronger you are, the farther they send you."

"Mm-hmm, I understand the principle. Don't you have any skills?"

"Default walking ability, plus I have one free slot. But I'm not doing anything with it yet."

"Makes sense, we too are all in doubt. In this game, it's easy to pump only combat. Xianxia, everything is tied to the fights. We're still two months away from magic!"

"And others have tried."

All three shook their heads, but Stick-in-the-ass answered again: "Does not work for some reason. We tried everything, but the program doesn't catch them!"

Well, yes, at first I was also running a routine. I had to work my head to get to the profitable quests. I could tell them... But first I'll get a set of skills for my charges. Friendship is friendship, I'll definitely bring them what I ordered, but to hint at the fact that the Systems have the option to maneuver yet a little too early. I will make a premium for the deal - it costs nothing, and they will be pleased.

"Look, what other Systems are there?"

"Different, but the only two big ones are Development and Hunting."

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know, I haven't encountered it yet."

I didn't tell him that I planned to go to the Hunt Territory. Who knows how it would turn out? If a seasoned delivery man said "don't mess with it," it meant something. But I had already been shown a list of almost ready skills, I could download myself and go to the Mages Guild... and there's no material. In fact, I should have searched for analogs of this particular item, as it turned out that they were all in " Hunt Territory". Suspicious.

I wish I knew what that meant.

How about ordering another guide? Ha, and how did the guide about the dummies help me? Calm me down a little bit? But should I calm down if I'm about to go on a dangerous raid? Or is it better to be scared and scared of every shadow, but come back home?

My musings were interrupted by the swinging door. The Stern Man burst in, gave us a wild look, then jumped up to me and grabbed my hand and began to shake it, silently and furiously expressing his satisfaction with the quality of the potion he had brought. Only half a minute later he finally uttered an articulate, "It worked! She's better now!"

Oleg and Stick-in-the-ass gave me triumphant applause, and I was about to turn the conversation to how I was going to get my skills when I heard an extended cry: "Won't you get in trouble? The girl's been treated for a year, right? Suddenly she's healthy?"

Everyone turned to me as the chief expert on miracles, and I had to pull out my phone again: "Inspector, good afternoon. Am I interrupting? No, it's all right, it's a working matter for you-I brought a healing potion for the Skills boys. A girl needed to be healed. It's all through the System, with the ordering, I remember the rules. But there won't be any questions about the miraculously healed girl? Yeah, got it. By the way, what about those demons our bespectacled guy spotted? Staying home? Of course, that's what I'm gonna do! I'm not an idiot!"

After saying goodbye, I explained: "There is nothing wrong with it, you can safely use it. Everyone will assume that the previous treatment has worked."

Stern Man shook my hand again, thanking me, and then nodded at the phone: "What is this, the Watch?"

"Who?"

"You know, the "Others"?"

"Which one?"

"Well, there was also a movie!"

We looked at Stick-in-the-ass and Rastaman; they obviously didn't understand either. Stern one grimaced, and slowly, as if to the dumb ones, explained:

"About Zavulon and Gesser!"

Something about the names was vaguely familiar and I clarified: "Korean, right? Ranobe or manga?"

He just spat and ran out the door. Why is he freaking out, now there are so many of these junk films, and what, to remember every single title? Oleg, smiling somewhere in space, deduced the important thing: "Demons? Here, in our place?"

"It seems they are everywhere. It's the embodiment of the unreal through our fears... Or not our fears. But the sage of Delivery says that while you don't see them, they don't see you either."

All three creators equally stared at the ceiling, and Oleg was the first to speak: "Mystical Eye, a quest for the second week?"

"Forty days from the start."

"Plus six or one for pumping."

"But you have to do it anyway. There's no way around it."

Apparently, it was something in the language of the creators.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

As I stood up, I slung the bag over my shoulder: "It's time, I have a day of important things to do. Your special orders are already in progress, almost all paid for. Don't get your hopes up for exact fulfillment, though, but it will be close."

"What have you ordered for us?"

"When they finish the job, I'll tell you."

"And if I want something else?"

I moved my eyebrows toward Stick-in-the-ass again and hinted: "You know where the board is, you know my name. You make an order and I'll bring it to you. And I'll even take only twice or three times what it's worth!"

Oleg suddenly said somewhere in space: "All gamers know that couriers are dangerous guys. They are sent to different places..."

"And we come back rested and with a magnet!"

"Or with a bunch of heads in a bag. If to think about it, you might be sent not just to carry something, but to deliver a bullet to someone's forehead. Or in the back."

It sounded logical enough. I had to give them a theory about the titles of the Deliverers to reassure them. I waved goodbye and teleported outside while they were arguing.

Messenger of the Delivery System Marius - 11 Lv.

For yesterday's rescue mission I got two levels at once. I must have misunderstood something. Because it was just a normal quest, right? Although my back still hurts. It's a dangerous job... but not boring.

I pulled up the black and red leather glove on my left hand in an affectation gesture. My precious! I took the first artifact not on the System's recommendation, but on my own wits. Inexpensive, which is essential, stopped at ten of the current rank. That is, the complication of quests does not give. On the other hand, it is obviously self-made, or rather a redesign of something cool, broken, and found at the dump.

First, the glove was unmatched. The extended description (minus a hundred points, robbery!) listed a set of seven items, with full functionality listed as "general construction work". Secondly, instead of streaming energy expenditure, she received a limit of five expendable charges, and the seller honestly warned that the fifth there is purely nominal, because the artifact begins to siphon and most of the energy goes into the glow. But nevertheless two coins for one charge, plus a percentage for the service.

The result was a situational gadget on the level of a messenger bag. But at the moment of work, the glove became conceptually indestructible! And it extended these qualities to the operator! It was a pity that it took three seconds to spend one charge. But to be a superman for twelve seconds was worth it! Well, the money was not much, and that's a plus. Yesterday I had a chance to try it out: I don't know what that driver was thinking, parked on the sidewalk, but after looking around and seeing no one, I pretended to grab it with both hands, then the activation of the glove... the car was no heavier than my bag. Two charges, but so much fun!

And the fact that now any five... well, any four strikes on me will not be stronger than hitting me with an empty messenger bag, is a little reassuring. Not enough to stop worrying, but enough not to panic in a critical situation.

Then again, I have a day's work to do on those two charges. So sad.

Go to an alley, and leave your footprints in the snow.

Snow was present here, even though it seemed to be summer behind me. I had to raise the hood of my cape, hiding my hands in my sleeves. But the winter city only lasted about two minutes - empty, deserted. Not dead, but empty.

Walk down the street without turning around.

I'm on my way. Although it was suddenly spring, there were no more people around. Maybe all these worlds are really a reflection of my inner world. I lack communication. This constant chatter on the stream, when some people come in, you explain something to them, they say in response all sorts of nonsense, their remarks are voiced by a stupid voice, and so on. I've never liked to make jokes, but it is nice to yap. And where is the courier to chitchat?

Enter the square, stop by an old tree, and wait for the signal.

Or "Hello, I'm here for the order" or "hello, your order"; the blessing of Delivery, expressed in the absence of waiting, is rather a minus here, even with goat-footed people you can't chat. In the evening there is no energy left. It seems like you do nothing all day, you go somewhere, and you get tired... although I have nothing to compare it with.

Enter the light gray part of the gate.

Wow, I was walking and walking and there was nothing, and then suddenly - the gate.

Really big, about ten meters long. Surprisingly, the scanner did not recognize them. Or rather, the machine did not see them at all, showing a beautiful landscape. Sort of like the inscription in the recruitment hall, only for the select few? The light gray part is the center, the farther to the edges, the darker the colors. Well, shall we walk?

Attention! You are in the territory of the Hunt!

Recommendation - reduce communication with adepts of the Hunt.

On that side of the gate was a large lobby of some kind of shopping center.

Ten paces from the edge were armed police officers, looking in my direction without interest. In fact, the only person who paid attention to me was at the reception desk, the most ordinary one with monitors, businesslike staff, and a girl smiling invitingly in my direction. Apparently, I have to go to this smile as a beacon of light? I'll be impolite.

The description of my order included the note "Bazaar, fourth floor, ask Alexei," so without paying attention to the grinning maiden, I made my way to the elevator. Did not call out, did not stop, as if it were really in the custom of things here couriers come from a gate hanging in the air. Though a few men with guns and armor and helmets stepped out of the portal, no one flinched. One of them had a respirator on his face and a pike in his hand for some reason. Who do they hunt with that kind of equipment? Or is he a local freak?

As the elevator went up, I looked down the hall through the scanner. Behind the counter and in uniform were all "adepts," but those who came through the gate were called "hounds". Only the freak with the respirator had a strip of questions over his head. And all had levels no higher than ten. Either I'm in the sandbox, or it just started here.

Another "hound," a man in camouflage, stood in the aisle to the former food court:

"Do you need help?"

"No, thanks, I have an appointment. Where's Alexei here?"

The guard pointed his hand and propped himself up against the wall again.

The former food court was now a sparsely populated flea market, and the salesman I was looking for was hiding in the kitchen of the former pizzeria. A tall, overweight man was spreading a pile of junk on a table, checking the notes in his notebook, scribbling something with a pen, and shifting the items that had already been accounted for.

"Good afternoon, are you Alexei?"

The man, Hound of the Hunt - 13 Lv, didn't even turn around, tossing over his shoulder: "Yep."

"Did you post the skill sheets at the auction?"

"Actually on a closed forum for stalkers."

Ah, that's what they call themselves. And Delivery, of course, got into their forum.

"I'm Marius, I asked you in PM.".

The stalker nodded, took a bound pile of shabby paper from the pile of junk already accounted for, and set it aside: "Sale, all sold at seven."

"Will you cut it down for wholesale?"

"The clerks are buying out at a five each!"

Adepts, huh? So the hunters don't know their system names? Okay, stop: "If they're buying, are they selling? How much do they charge?"

He grimaced, but lowered his price: "Give me six and a half if you take it all at once."

I looked over the stack, and checked again with the scanner:

Blank Skill Sheet

Available for recording and transferring skills.

I palpated it, looked at the light, and laid it out. All seemed to be the same.

"Remind me how to use them?"

The salesman explained in a dejected voice, showing in every way how much he didn't like me: "When you pass the Gate, you wish to absorb it, sometimes with a small chance to learn something. Not as from the artifacts, a percentage of the strength, but immediately the full skill."

And what is there to absorb from them if they are empty? Or they just don't know how to detect it? I have a system scanner, and the hunters have what? But anyway: "It is too little here."

Stalker, judging by his behavior, was not interested in profit: "That's all I have. When I left the application was a hundred and fifty, but then the guild bought out half of it for the newbies. First-timers are lucky, just in case."

"But I need more."

And again the indifferent answer: "Search, there are ten more at the bazaar."

He finished with the accounting and started putting the bags of artifacts into big checkered bags. Okay, let's go in on the other side: "What's the price of the water of life here?"

The man suddenly laughed: "We don't have this kind of stuff here. At the bazaar, the only trashy blues".

"I have ten drops."

The stalker froze, then turned to me and stood up abruptly: "Are you kidding?"

I put the bag on the table, opened the Velcro with a crack, took a vial out of the pocket, and showed it to him:

"Ten drops of "water of life," saturation above twenty. I need one hundred and thirty sheets of skill."

I prepared the water as a last chance because I didn't have enough cash for everything. I packed it in three vials, just in case, but I don't know the price. The pharmacist said that when well saturated, this very water was the perfect catalyst for decoctions with beneficial effects. Practically a guarantee of no side effects, which is why it is valued.

"Show me closer..."

"From the hands."

We glared at each other, and then he rushed to the exit, and called for some "Volodya," looking back at me nervously. Almost immediately, a well-dressed clerk with a nametag on his chest came running in, and immediately started babbling:

"Hello, my name is Vladimir, and today I am an official middleman at the Bazaar. Can I see your goods?"

Apparently, my face is expressive enough, because he immediately began to clarify: "How long have you been able to see?"

I answered honestly: "It hasn't even been ten days yet."

The middle man nodded and clarified again: "The cape and bag are from the dungeon? I've seen those on the base somewhere."

And what to answer? He didn't wait for an answer, though: "We, the "office people," that is, the "system NPC," we cannot lie. We are punished for it. And you can't kill us either, so there's always a middleman in the bazaar who guarantees the deal on behalf of the Office. We can not break our word, and we will not let you break yours. Everything is fair."

"What percentage do you charge?"

"Do you intend to go to the Gates?"

Do I intend to? Well, if the quest system shows the way, then what can I do: "Rather yes than no."

"This is enough. If you want, you can register, it gives you certain..."

The salesman coughed and the middleman abruptly cut short his speech: "Would you allow me?"

This time I gave the vial away. The adept and the hound stared at the regular vial as if there were not the drops of moisture at the bottom, but at least diamonds. Alexei was the first one who couldn't stand it:

"Look, where did you get it? Do you remember the spectrum? I have an epic I was saving for myself, I can trade it!"

Apparently, it's a really useful thing. By the way: "Explain why stalkers need water."

'Volodya' replied: "When absorbed, it permanently strengthens the immune system to the level of the office staff," he tapped his chest with his finger. "The stalker doesn't get our regeneration, but it cures any ailments instantly."

That's it? That's what the absence of healing potions does to people. Okay, stop:

"Absorption?"

"Don't you get it?" The hound and the adept looked at each other. "When you pass through the gate, you can wish for anything you find there to become part of you. Part of the power depends on the item's grade."

Creating amazing creatures capable of hunting gods and demons suddenly popped into my head. Exact description.

"Okay, but I need one hundred and thirty sheets."

The stalker and the clerk looked at each other. Alexei quickly did the math: "I have seventy-two."

The middleman took out his phone, and checked it: "We'll make up the difference, we have some stock, but it's in the warehouse right now. The papers will be delivered tomorrow morning."

Well, in the morning it is in the morning.

Attention! Respected Messenger Marius - a long stay in the territory of the Hunt increases the likelihood of joining the pack.

There's no escaping the Delivery System.

"I need it now."

They did not ask why I was in such a hurry. Vladimir nodded: "I'll order express delivery."

"And what will you ask for?"

The stalker replied: "Obviously. They always ask for it!"

And the clerk immediately confirmed with a smile: "You go now to the gate, above the level of the "sand," and we'll set everything up in the meantime."

Take part in the hunt, then? One time is not a hound? Not even a Pekingese or a Chihuahua. The phone was silent, I had to choose for myself. I glanced at Alexei, but he shook his head negatively:

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going with the first-timer, we'll be set to the maximum difficulty. The rewards there are good, but not now."

Adept... Why is he an "adept" and not a "dogman"?

'Volodya' immediately suggested: We form a team for a short dungeon, you go through it, and we divide the "water" according to the contribution to the deal. By the end of the tour, the sheets will be waiting for you.

Stalker grimaced but agreed. So all that's left to do is talk me out?

"Okay, I agree. Who is the leader, who tanks?"

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