* * *

  The new talents turned out to be quite massive in terms of knowledge, but they were of no use right here and now. Working with sources, of course, was a very strong trump card, capable of strengthening any other knowledge through connections with the same source. Literally any kind of knowledge, from healing to curses, from combat call to cunning spells, just have the right support on the source and try to fully utilize its borrowed power. The problem, as usual, is in the realization. In order to add strength in such a cunning way, you need, surprise, have access to a source of magic, preferably cultivated, powerful, suitable to your aura and such, for connection and suction from which evil owners will not come to give you a sp on the face. Stepan was a stranger to this world, but even he realized that local mages had long ago divided all the normal sources near cities and towers, perhaps having built these cities and towers just for the sake of these sources.

  He and other such vagabonds were left with only such small sub-sources in the wilderness, which could be contaminated and therefore dangerous if used for a long time. Only apprentices, very weak adepts, and users of the System benefit from them. Especially the tter. For untrained novice magicians, such a connection can ruin the gift, crippling or simply imbanced aura in the process of feeding, blocking most of the paths of development. The same sources, located in the backwoods, have power, cultivated to a sufficient extent, stable in themselves, and not occupied by all sorts of humans or elves - also have masters. Like that scary moose. He wonders if a posessed animal can defeat half a hundred guards in battle or not. If not in a direct head-on collision, but at the expense of the tactics of fight-and-run, he could quite well, as it seemed to the Earthling.

  With regard to contractual techniques, his opinion was somewhat different. It was this knowledge that allowed for a much more reliable conclusion of contracts, which was very important in the formation of a personal spiritual retinue. Again, the knowledge itself was not only about making deals, creating contractual anchors - by the way, they could also be adjusted for human use, the principle being quite simir - or ways to punish a viotor, but also about the bargaining process, the ability to set conditions or reduce the demands of an insolent spirit to a tolerable level. In contacts with entities like this moose, Stepan could use such knowledge much more than combat skills. In fact, it was his ability to dialog and bargain that allowed that meeting to be resolved peacefully and without blood and bitten-off limbs. Stepan was not sure of his victory over such a creature, even if he had little doubt in his ability to at least seriously wound it before he died. But he could hardly be comforted by the fact that the killer would follow him a couple of weeks ter.

  So the young man left the source with a quick step. He was in no hurry to let go of the fighting spirits, feeding them with portions of strength, and when he did get far enough away, he invested in defense instead of standard precautions. He fed the totems with additional power, created a duplicate signal network of watch spirits and a guard line, and there were two of them, and the second one was deliberately drawn much less noticeably than the first, and he did not go to sleep, sinking into a trance and continuously replenishing the reserve. All night he had been feeding five very specific spirits that would, as the young man believed, attack the bond between the spirit and his meat body. And still, in spite of all the prepared means, he did not feel confident, remembering now and then how the moose came out from behind the tree completely silently and invisibly to all the senses of Stepan and his spirits. It was just as if a tank had crawled out from behind a corner in the pure Berusian steppe. Only in reality, did such an anecdote turn out to be not funny at all.

  In the morning, having gathered all the power left in his circuits, the guy was even faster to break the distance between himself and the hunting grounds of the spirit-beast unable to move too far away from his stone. Even though no attacks happened, stealth moose did not come out from under a bush to bite the Earthman casting near those bushes for balls. The fugitive calmed down only on the third day though. He slightly reduced the intensity of defensive preparations. He had gotten a lot of experience for such preparations, though not as much as he had gotten for the negotiation process and the work with the altar. One way or another, but the scale of transition to the lucky thirteenth level, also called the damn dozen, was almost one-third full and growing little by little. Stepan tried not to stop this growth. Now and then he changed something in routine calls or tried to improve them in some way, and it also brought some results - apparently the system evaluated the novelty and effort. Although, it was very difficult to notice and track the difference in experience gain. Because of this, he was so annoyed by the ck of a digital dispy of the scale. It pissed him off, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't py with a calcutor. If there was a way to reduce everything to a digital roach, it was hidden among the meta-skills, and no matter how much of a fan of cssic Lit RPGs the young man was, he was not going to spend his honestly earned talents on such bullshit.

  At the next camp, the young man was able to finalize the idea he had come up with after acquiring the contract skill - the creation of a one-time contract amulet that would work on people too. A small round stone, on which the lines of the magic sign, drawn with his own blood, are clearly visible. And if you make a deal with some clever vilger, certifying it on this stone, then the fulfillment of this deal will be monitored by a very specific spirit that keeps the contract itself. It is a very unusual entity. It begins to exist from the moment the deal is sealed, before that being an unformed idea-aspiration, a pure conception of the spiritual spheres. And, if the deal is kept, then such a strange spirit will silently and quietly disperse and disintegrate into its former state to appear as a new spirit and a new pn somewhere else. But if the deal is broken everything is more funny, yes.

  At the conclusion of a contract, this entity receives, at the expense of the same contract, power over a part of the subtle bodies of the one who concluded it, limited by the terms of the deal, but supported by the spiritual pne itself. In viotion of the deal, the spirit will also disappear, but together with everything it has power over, having torn the mentioned part of thin bodies. Such a thing will kill only a very sick individual or just an old man, but to seriously deteriorate health - it is easy. You can change the configuration and make the deal more or less lethal, but in this particur case, Stepan went for maximum reliability.

  However, this was not some breakthrough technology of higher magic. Simir contracts exist in cssical magic, and a strong and experienced adept could easily block the rollback from such a viotion, preventing the spirit from causing harm. And the apprentice, if clever and prepared, drawing a ritual or even trying to try the principle of sembnce to reduce the damage to a random sve or even a sheep, will easily avoid problems. That is the amulet created by Stepan was, of course, a marketable commodity. It was quite reliable, capable of a couple of years minimum just to stay on the shelf, and the transaction itself will be tracked by the spirit for about a year. But it wasn't a breakthrough in the local magical science because of the presence of a rge number of analogs. It could be sold for silver, but not for gold. And there would be problems with the sale too because the young man did not even doubt that such goods were reguted by any sensible authorities, or it would turn out that they were no longer the authorities, and their subjects were not theirs at all, and they owed unknown creditors two halves of the kingdom, the ass of a beautiful princess and no less beautiful prince, as well as their crown, scepter, and soul.

  The creation of the pebble brought a lot of experience. He repeated the experience a few more times, inflicting a few cuts, which he healed without leaving any scars. He pyed with the properties, conditions, and duration of the amulet, or even the possibility of using it as a conduit for a more complicated curse. And, judging by the fact that he managed not to create a ready-made prototype, but to guess approximately how to pull off such a trick, then at the conclusion of any contract will have to be very careful not only to the vague terms and ambiguous footnotes, but also to the magic structure of the contract. Although let's be honest, Stepan would only sign such contracts with local bosses if a hot demon poker or a mithril pitchfork were brought to his naked ass.

  "Eh, maybe I was wrong not to go to w school...." He said, only to answer himself a moment ter. "No, no, it wasn't a mistake at all. Fuck wyers."

  * * *

  The ndscape surrounding the shaman-explorer, only that his name was not Dora, was gradually changing. The swamps disappeared, and the overall density of the forest decreased, more and more often there were gdes or whole areas of grass and bushes-covered fields, although there were even more ravines, and hills became more frequent. He liked the terrain much better, simply because of its novelty. Although protection from rain and bad weather was more and more difficult and expensive to put up, the nights were not getting warmer either. The sheer number of snakes, poisonous insects, and bites, which were only slightly less than near the swamps, forced the creation of new, more advanced repellent totems to eliminate the hissing and crawling problem. One particurly magical snake of a strange blue-purple speckled coloring, which stood out not only by the color of the scales, but also by the brightness of a fully developed aura, Stepan cynically caught, using the skills of a shaman-tramp from the relevant block of knowledge, and then decanted all the avaible poison and released.

  Then, remembering that snakes' venom took a long time to recover, so he could condemn a beast that had done nothing to him (apart from trying to bite his ass while sitting on a sun-warmed rock) to starvation, he caught up with it, pumped its aura with magic reserve, summoned a specific spirit with the help of a successfully avaible call, which would have to replenish the poison within twenty-four hours, and then let it go again. He still didn't have the skills of druidism or animal master, though he could do something in this direction, from the skills reted to shamanism, it seemed to Stepan that there was something profane in the snake's farewell hiss.

  The system assignments were nice in that they were mostly doable, although there were some strange ones, like the assignment to pnt small spirits in small animals. Experience, increasing the efficiency of the spiritual transformation, a little affinity with spheres, and a lot of animal corpses. At first, Stepan's maniputions killed the poor mice a little bit, and the first mouse, when he had not yet dosed the power, and the spirit he chose was not quite so small, was an explosion. Bloody, yes. The mouse was torn apart as if it were a hamster and not a water-type spirit, but a liter of nicotine was poured into it. Spirit suddenly evolved spontaneously. There was no way in hell it could be repeated. Isekai even made a pact with the spirit grateful to him for such a gift, sacrifice, and growth in strength. He was stuck in one of the cells of the rosary. When affecting a living creature a blood-water spirit could not let the blood stop even from a small scratch. The property is frankly weak, and it is easy to remove the impact, and on a strong aura it will not work, but the young man was interested in the process of evolution of the spirit. He understood something about it, but only distant fragments of knowledge, he did not have a full-fledged line of talent of this kind. The attempt to repeat the success, by the way, did not bring any results, except for the genocide of rodents, but at least he got the hang of suppnting, at the end he was sent back to the big world three slightly grown up mice with entities pnted in them.

  Another assignment was to conduct a specific call of a fertile type, only of a darker orientation: it was necessary to make a small grove of slightly magical trees (nothing extraordinary, but their wood is a bit more expensive than usual species due to their lightness and strength) more wild, overgrown and united into one small forest area in spiritual terms. In fact, the creation-calling of a full-fledged guardian spirit that quite difficult and even somewhere risky, but with the mark of the roots and the same mark of the spiritual realms, he could afford the risk simply because there was no risk just for him. In the end, Stepan completed the call, although he got sweating as if he was carrying sacks of contraband on the border. The experience was quite noticeable, the affinity with the natural sphere was raised, and the reserve was replenished almost to the brim due to the feedback from the grove. The resulting spirit was strong and obedient enough. Now the young man could seek shelter in these trees at any time. He would be sheltered. Well, if he was really going to stay here and not go on his way, but he remembered the fact, so that he could use such knowledge, wouldn't he?

  The most memorable was, however, the st assignment, although it was also not reted to Autogodess but remembered by another material reward: a full-fledged and very high-quality totem, in which sits a contracted spirit of a protective type, capable of creating quite effective protective circuits and repulsive fields against all sorts of dark, hungry and evil devils. And the spirit, which especially pleased Stepan, was light, sunny even - born from the rays of a warm summer day, absorbed the purity of this light, he was of little use even against frankly weak elemental spirits, but if he had such a totem during the battle with the Lanternman, the battle would have ended almost instantly. For the sake of something as fun as shining a light on a dead man's face, this spirit would easily abandon the totem. Stepan, a little tired of the constant contact and communication with mostly evil and dark entities, was genuinely pleased with this assignment.

  For the sake of accomplishing the assignment, he had to work hard, because the root mark was useless in this case. If it were not for the css-system bance, allowing not to ruin the retionship with the spirits of opposite and conflicting spheres (if you do not ruin this bance yourself with specific properties), granted when choosing the appropriate css on the first day, it would be quite a hindrance. And so at least there were no obstacles, only the ck of bonuses and pluses. He had to do everything himself, not relying on reinforcements, if you do not count the mark of the spheres (and let's be honest, it had to be counted, for it is also a great help). Undressed, which made him feel very foolish, even though there were no witnesses around, Stepan stood on the top of a gentle hill all day, from the very dawn, absorbing the sun's rays with his whole spiritual body. This time he did not form a third arm but created a kind of spiritual flesh-aura cover over the entire surface of his body. It wasn't a defensive technique, although it was something he could try, even on the contrary - in such a state it was easier to cripple and damage this very spiritual body.

  But it was the perfect filter for light rays, allowing him to pick out the right spirits, summon them, and bind them with a contract. From the outside, it must have been amusing to watch the flickering rays of sunlight slowly accumute around the naked guy, gathering into a full-fledged halo that on Earth could be used to cospy, if not Jesus himself, then at least an angel of the Lord. This halo was eventually - which was getting close to sunset - crumpled into a big glowing orange, and then the glowing ball fshed brightly and illuminated the whole neighborhood with a very pure light. For the next couple of months on this hill and another three hundred meters from the epicenter of the fsh the usual tools of invisibility will fail or will not work at all, spells or other abilities ranked higher will consume much more power. Not a bad way to deal with uninvited guests, frankly. If he ever decided to start earning money by creating magical arms, this offer would have to be included in the price list.

  The totem appeared out of the void right in front of his eyes, standing on the autumn grass before the eyes of a young man who was freezing to the bone, frantically casting a warm wind on himself and pulling on his clothes with stiff fingers. The totem looked, to put it mildly, much more beautiful than Stepan's own handicrafts: elbow-length and as wide as his wrist, this small pilr was carved from snow-white wood, on which the same wood pattern was barely visible. But the usual carved patterns, decorating the product, but at the same time carrying a very significant meaning, covered this log with a continuous carpet. Sitting in a totem spirit was strong, and the post itself was a thing on the verge of being a master artifact, even if it did not reach such a bar. Ironic, perhaps, that the strongest spirit at his constant disposal, rather than one-time summons, was a light blesser - capable of destroying undead and darkness, casting out curses, or boosting the overall health. Ironic, because most of the completed tasks and the most powerful servants in Stepan's retinue came primarily from the elemental, natural, and dark spheres.

  It was even more ironic that this particur spirit was of little use in battle, unless, of course, it was against a necromancer who had come to fight with a crowd of inferior undead under his control, with whom he had bound himself by threads of power. It was as if the world was urging him, Stepan, to go back to that unfortunate town, Fantrel, and visit the honorable maestro Rumorias Krellb. No, not even to visit him himself, but to send a spirit from the totem ahead of him, having smoked the totem with incense and other ways to temporarily strengthen the spirit, putting all Stepan's and spirit strength into one blow. The necromancer might not be killed but he would certainly be fried to a painful scream, and all his workshop, bnks, and tools, which were sharpened for the dead, would become unusable. But he kept the pleasant thoughts from him, for he was not going to return anyway.

  Not shortly for sure.

  As if as a reward for his diligence and willingness to put petty and not-so-petty grudges behind him, it wasn't long before he reached a damn dozen levels and got the coveted up. The event happened during another conflict with a vicious beast resembling a dog covered in hedgehog needles. The creature was definitely unnatural, but no control circuits could be found in it, so if it was someone's magical experiment, it was clearly derelict, having roamed the wilderness long ago. The beast managed to frighten first with the standard horror effect, but not for long. All the time flying near the spirits scouts noticed that the beast that came to its senses after a portion of paralyzing fear began to follow the man, and there was nothing good in that pursuit, only hungry. The creature apparently smelled the magic-soaked meat and was hungry for it, very hungry, and too dumb to seriously realize the futility of the venture. No, in theory, it could have waited until night and attacked the sleeping man, but Stepan hadn't been walking through these woods without reconnaissance for a long time. He always went to sleep in a protective circle, and it was quite difficult to miss a beast that wasn't trying to hide in his spiritual and magical vision.

  Sighing, not wanting to look around all the time, the young man stopped, dropped his knapsack to the ground, reached for one of his bracelets with his will, and cpped his hands audibly, as if he had practiced such a gesture for half a lifetime. From the outside, perhaps, the gesture was not graceful, but a kind of primal grace, as was the body that stepped sharply on the spot and stomped on the ground, the work of the legs and the slightly slouched back. The power that passed through his aura created a call, and those he had summoned showed up, and it was over. Two lightning strikes, the first weaker to disrupt his step and paralyze him, and the second with an investment of strength, and that was the end of the annoying and insolent beast's life.

  Stepan came closer and looked at the slightly smoking body, the needle cover on its scruff had torn off and exposed the flesh, thinking about whether he should cut out parts of the corpse or sacrifice the whole body at once. The beast, though magical, was not valuable, no real useful things could be taken from it, not even fangs and cws, its knowledge base, after scanning and probing, rated only slightly better than a normal wolf's. The system message, as well as the voice from Madame Milftrescu caused a feeble smile and a slight sympathy for the already dead creature, which at the cost of his life selflessly pumped up the isekai to a step higher.

  Received: “lecherous development I”, “lecherous development II”.

  Talents gained are added to the overall Pyer status.

  A goddess in her style, giving you double the meta-skill at once, allowing you to increase your experience from any action of a lewd nature. It didn't matter whether it was a luxurious debauchery in Sultan's harem with three dozen beauties at once or a dirty shag with a cheap whore in an alley - experience would give both though, quite different amounts of it. The first option right now could help Stepan pump up at least a dozen levels, and the second would only give experience for a little more than five killed beasts, like this one recently. But in general, the property is not completely useless, because the experience gain coefficient of this gift is much higher than that of the same peaceful development, very noticeably higher. So high that if Stepan had a lot of money and an elite brothel in walking distance, he would inevitably think about it. Also, any lewd actions, including masturbation or even just fantasies and lewd thoughts, if they turn out to be vivid enough, give a boost. And yes, fantasizing about the Autogodess was a good way to work the skill. Such a way to gain experience for the necessary level, while not straining above the necessary with all sorts of complex calls. Pumping for the very zy, of course, but in case of knowing that a successful night will bring not only pleasure but also experience - it's not so bad if you think about it.

  The young man who had been pondering his future actions for a long time was back to thinking, even though he had made his decision somewhat in advance. Once again, he did not increase his call practice or combat calls. Although both were necessary he had to develop them to the current maximum limited by the characteristics. But this time, inspired by his success in the field of assignments and, especially, working with the spirits of sunlight, he chose something different, opting for a trait rather than knowledge. The Autogoddess' initial gift of a “tiny mark of the spiritual spheres” was repced by a “small mark of the spiritual spheres”, but without the “gift” addendum, which pleased him even more than the promotion itself. This mark, even a small one, was clearly not an ordinary property, because he had not met it in the list of avaible options, but now, after taking the tenth level, it could be freely promoted. Strengthening the connection and authority of spirits of absolutely any direction, to the point that even the smallest of them were willing to work, if not for free, then for promises, while trying to help, agreeing to contracts without bargaining and long dances with a tambourine, even if only figurative.

  The price for this was a twisting aura cramp as if a rough tongue or a sharp bde had been swiped across his entire subtle and spiritual body, all at once and at the same time. Yes, for his current level, a small mark is a limit of development, very close to his current maximum. That's why it was unexpectedly difficult to undergo the transformation, the comparative weakness of the aura, on which hung such a valuable property. In essence, such a mark modifies not the shells of the gifted, but imprints on them the “credit history” of the shaman, like the mark of roots, but with a much wider coverage of avaible areas. Still, it was not very pleasant to see such a massive mark on one's spirit, “there is a great authority and an important person in front of you”, to put it mildly. He felt very irritated, like a snake shedding its skin and getting furious, or like a flea-bitten dog that had been bitten where it couldn't even scratch.

  He rested for two long hours, only after he had fully recovered to get on his feet and continue his journey, having previously sacrificed to the spirits the most alluring parts of sin spike-dog - mainly the guts and the brain - and before his eyes, he saw trees, trees, bushes, trees, hills, trees, ravines, trees, trees and, of course, trees. Despite all possible affinity with nature, despite the young man had changed his perception of reality through regur communication with spirits, despite his hardened character and spirit, he still began to hate the forests.

  * * *

  The vilge appeared suddenly. As soon as he left the forest and climbed up the hill, he saw it immediately, and at the same time, he saw the river. The river was a wow, three hundred meters wide, no less, and the water was almost bck. It shivered from the shrill wind. The scenery was so beautiful and, what shocked him much more, so different from the forest scenery, that for a while the young man just froze and stood there, smiling a stupid smile. Then he reminded himself of his past encounters with people and visits to settlements, forcing himself to become serious again and ready for the seemingly inevitable problems. It was still a couple of kilometers minimum to the vilge huts, most of which were covered by a pretty good wooden wall, albeit dipidated, but from here he could tell that this was a good, prosperous pce. Beautiful houses, most of which were located closer to the river, fishing piers and boats, as well as a high shore, protecting from spring floods (which made it necessary to dig a piece of the cliff for the pier, so there was a pce to pull the boat). There should be no problems with fish here, it is a fact, and a small pier, obviously not made for fishing boats, hinted at the fact that water caravans could stop here and buy food or sell something of their own. It was a good pce to live, nothing to say, but if someone evil decided to come along the same river to rob, it would be difficult to fight back, because from that side there was almost no defense, only to lock themselves in the huts, but when and where did it ever help?

  Stepan walked easily and bouncy, the full reserve and the spirit pnted in his body, which was very strong, allowed him to start from a pce no worse than Olympic champions, and the toughness of his skin and body had also increased. In systemic terms, the pnted spirit temporarily raised the bodily strength not lower than three, and at the afterburner all five. Though burning not only the reserve but also life and blood. Of course, such over-insurance might seem too excessive, but, damn, there wasn't a single vilge where Stepan wouldn't find problems, so he decided not to wait for confirmation of the trend. Especially since in the gentle mode, the spirit showed almost no sign of itself, except for the slightly sharpened facial features, which were still human and not too scary, without the ominous valley. The tter, of course, was not a consequence of the sub-settler's caution, but of his intentional influence on himself and the spirit with his own spirit, the very transformation that leveled the effect on his appearance. Without this feature, the face would have acquired unmistakably unpleasant and inhuman features, and the eyes would have lit up like a cat's.

  The recent increase in the level and development of the once-given property led to the fact that any actions of a call nature became noticeably easier to work with, including the pnting of spirits in oneself. They did not stop harming accidentally, just from the awkwardness of being in a material body, but they almost stopped deliberately pulling the leash and testing the shaman's patience. This particur spirit did. Otherwise, Stepan wouldn't have pnted it in himself for such an important task as making a first impression, limiting himself to something weaker and more modest in his demands. After all, this one would still have to be fed roast meat while he was in his body, if not today, then during the moon. He was not averse to a kebab, so he and the spirit reached a consensus close to absolute.

  The closer he got to the vilge, the more he began to think that he had prepared the spirit for a reason, because there was something wrong with the vilge. He could hear no children's cries and saw almost no people, and even no working people, which made him think of abandoning his original pns and going back to the forest. He was ready for anything, he thought. For the vilge being overrun by cunning and sneaky brigands, or evil cultists of the evil demonic demons that were now maliciously demonizing. To the fact that they had everyone there drunk on the funeral of the headman's mother-in-w and now they're just hungover and taking the day off. That some undead had killed everyone there, and now he had to py the role of Ash from Evil Dead. The variants were invented one after another worse, but the spirits sent on reconnaissance did not find traces of suspicious and dangerous magic, as well as did not meet the crowds of armed evil-doers, sitting in barns and waiting for the naive shaman to visit.

  In fact, there was an epidemic in the vilge and it was not about a rock band straight from Earth.

  “Fros, the fool, bastard, took out of Dantra an oak barrel. A good one, even with a pattern, this one, the enchanted one, covered, with wax seals, so.” The local headman, or rather his substitute told him, because the main headman and the father of this guy, only a few years older than Stepan, could hardly walk now. “And he, the fool, had to calcute that these seals were, well, wine seals, like on barrels of liquor. He gathered the whole vilge and promised to pour a drink for everyone, even the kids came to look. But when he opened the lid, a terrible stench and some dust, bad dust, came out. Fros was the first to die by evening, together with his brother, Tum, and all those who were on the square fell sick, completely sick. All of them."

  If the d's words were to be believed, it wasn't too contagious, and most of those who had been absent for various reasons from the vilge feast - the engagement of the headman's daughter and the bcksmith's son - hadn't gotten sick, even if they had been nursing the sick, but a couple of them seemed to have caught colds. The problem was that among the inhabitants of the Upper Ladys, there were almost everyone in that square. Those who remained were barely enough to at least throw food to the cattle, and to take care of their retives and neighbors, but it was agony because they were not getting any better. Fever, vomiting, ck of appetite, strong diarrhea in case of something to eat, dehydration derived from these factors, as well as a wild cough - these were the symptoms.

  The first five died on the first night, simply suffocating in their own vomit and foam from their mouths. Another dozen died by the end of the second day from dehydration, most likely by shitting themselves bloody and dead. After that, the corpses began to appear less, and over the next three days only six died, five of them children. Stepan thought that it was not so much a contagion as some kind of poison that had been smuggled in that barrel and simply thrown away when they ran into a patrol. Taram shared his opinion, but what good was it to him if the vilge was likely to die out, and the messengers had not yet returned. Baron Ferdinal prefers to spend his time in Dantmark, while here, at most, his steward keeps order. While the news would reach him, while he would think whether the lord should be disturbed, while Lord himself would think whether he should be disturbed ... Under normal circumstances, this situation suited both the vilgers and everyone else, because it was possible to give a smaller tax and a little less tax, - Taram did not say this himself, Stepan extrapoted from his words - but in the case of an unexpected disaster and epidemiological threat, it was not nice.

  “I'm going to ask you in a simple way.” The vilger bowed to the waist and unmistakably guessed the gifted man in him, which was not difficult, given the neckce hanging over his clothes, the two bracelets, and the rosary beads clutched in his hand, and voiced his request. “I don't have enough money to pay the whole vilge for treatment. I still have enough for my family and neighbors, and no more, I won't lie. Yes, if a thrifty vilger boasts, he has two more in his pocket, but really there is no money. We invested everything in the harvest, my father made up his mind. He persuaded everyone for three years to buy enchanted grain. And now there's no one to harvest the crops. I beg, I pray, your magician, at least one man per family, if you can. Otherwise, if the tax is collected in full, and they never forget to collect it, it means. If they do, there won't be any left for sowing, you know.

  This actor was still understating the money issue, or even whistling, though he was telling the truth that he didn't have enough. He had a cache for a very extreme case, no other way, and that was only for him. The shaman began to ask further questions, but the main problem did not change - the vilgers were in bad shape, only half of them would live till the arrival of healers or priests from the nearest town, the harvest would be lost, the payment of tax would wipe out the reserves, and then the vilge would have to crawl out of debts for a couple of generations, and it would not be prosperous at all. Stepan didn't give a damn about economic issues, even the fact that the local governor on behalf of the baron traditionally didn't care about obligatory tax breaks caused by famine, disasters, robbery raids, or epidemics. But the people, especially the children, were pitiful, simply and humanly pitiful. That's all.

  The stingy practicality demonstrated by this hereditary greedy man was also sickening, and he wanted to kick him in the leg like a barbarian. And there was no pain when he said to raise men to their feet first of all, at least one for a house. New children will be born, and a wife or a widow can also be found for a strong household, but if there is no man-feeder and the main plowman, it's minus a homestead, and fewer homesteads, worse for the vilge, and therefore for the headman. No, with his mind, he understood his interlocutor, the tactics of survival were chosen more than just right, but from his “Children will die, it happens, but you will save the household”, something inwardly scratched, so much so that he wanted to do something bad to this Darwinist. The vilge savior-economist, unaware of the threat hanging over him, continued to agitate for the help of a stray magician seemingly really desperate to solve the problems somehow. Because it's dangerous to show weakness like that, no matter what kind of magician and how he would use such weakness, or even just bring some brigands. This understanding glimmered on the very surface of Taram's words, and Stepan's spirits picked up all these fears with ease. The more obvious understanding was that the man was deliberately trying to make him feel sorry for him, seeing as he was still young and, perhaps, not too beaten by life.

  "Stop." He said quietly but firmly, adding a little wind rustle to his words so the illiterate man would be struck to the bone. "I understand. I'll help you if I can. I'll take a small payment, a third of the standard small healing fee for a man. I'll take it after the healing and from whom I've healed, but you'd better not cheat on it, Taram. And yes, my name is Pann."

  Without waiting for a portion of gratitude and obsequious sycophancy from a man who was obviously not very experienced in this business, the magnificent Pann began to give commands to the instantly summoned people who could still stand on their feet. Though they could hardly stand, for the hard work and nursing of the sick left little time for sleep, and the limits of the human body were such that one could hardly cross them. The work he undertook was difficult, even titanic in a way, especially if you take into account the usual disguised as a “simple strong self-taught apprentice” aura, and with the price he showed himself to be even that even the most selfless. Just for crification, the small fee for a healer is given for a minor injury, like a deep cut or a simple fracture, not for saving from the epidemic, because for such actions the rate is quite different (but Stepan did not know it anyway) and there is also a surcharge for the risk of voluntary entry into infected houses. And here, working for a third of a small fee per person, a normal healer would not have recouped the cost of the reserve and herbs. Any normal person or non-human wouldn't have signed up for such a fool's errand, but Stepan had an argument, even one and a half, in favor of such altruism: his conscience, which could be counted as a half, and a systemic sigment that came up in time - by the way, at least half a day earlier than it should have!

  System assignment (medium): Heals the inhabitants of the Upper Lyadi settlement from the disease, using any of the avaible means, summons, or contracts. For satisfactory performance, you must cure more than half of the sick; for complete performance, you must not allow more than five people to die since receiving the task; for perfect performance, you must achieve a complete cure of all the sick.

  Reward: closure of current level, increased affinity with the spirits of the life sphere, contract with an elder spirit healer (low master level); at full execution: one random meta-skill, one random knowledge or trait; at perfect execution: Constitution characteristic reaches two units (if the characteristic is raised to two in any other way before the assignment is closed, the reward is burned).

  First of all, this was the first time he had seen an assignment ranked above 'small'. Before that, he had thought that only Autogoddess could give out a task above “standard”. Secondly, the reward itself was the sort of thing you'd take on, even if the penalties for failure included blocking new assignments for a month. Thirdly, for once the task was not only very generous in terms of reward, but also coincided with Stepan's moral compass, so he didn't have to think for a long time. In fact, the only thing that worried him in this situation was the possibility of losing his disguise as a disciple of a vilge shaman from the vilge of Assfordshire, because he would have to call with all his strength, which was not so small if you think about it.

  But problems must be solved as they arose, and one could always mention the existence of a family contract with some strong spirit, perhaps the same one that he would be given as a retinue for accomplishing the assignment. So Stepan yelled, commanded, ordered to drag the heavy ones to him first, and not the most important ones, threatening to add diarrhea to the beggars themselves if they tried to shove the vilge bcksmith into the queue first (he, by the way, was still feeling retively normal, having taken the healing potions avaible from his personal stash), and also called as hard as he could, summoning the right spirits. Half an hour ter, a tall and bright fire was already burning on the showpce, where the feast that had tragically “failed to happen” had recently taken pce, and the shaman himself was drawing signs and lines with an obsidian knife right on the ground trampled by many feet.

  A quick consultation with the spirits showed that the contagion was indeed not a pgue of any kind but rather a mold, magically active and toxic, that remained where the sealed contraband barrel had been opened, even now that the barrel had been doused with oil, covered with wood, and burned. With a fsh of fme he wiped out the rest of the filth, a gust of wind blew the fallen moldy dust into the water, which had not yet flown away, and ordered them to arm themselves with rags and start scrubbing the houses of those who had fallen ill, down to the st corner. Inspired and somewhat hopeful people began to carry out the orders with some enthusiasm, visible even through fatigue, and to drag the heaviest patients closer. The stench, of course, was very bad. Shit does not smell like roses, and the locals did not have the strength to go to the trine. So many began to catch common infections, which aggravated their condition even more.

  Thinking a little, the d concluded that he was quite capable of healing such a thing, either one at a time or one at a time, in groups he couldn't handle. But he could send healing spirits to the most difficult ones, which would support their vital activity, not letting them die while the shaman was calling over the next patient. Moreover, this approach will also allow not to attract the attention of orderlies, that is, all sorts of too clever people - a simple apprentice helped as much as he could, and that no one in the waiting line did not die, it's just lucky, Comrade Inquisitor, don't you believe these honest eyes?

  In addition to what he'd already done, Stepan activated the totem with the spirit of sunlight, which was set a little away from the fire, but brightly lit by the fire, and put it into the health-improving mode. Such a thing did not cure, it was rather a means of prevention, but the general increase in the tone of health had an extremely positive effect. The other totems would drive away all sorts of hungry spirits of dark aspect, which could fly if not to Stepan's call then to the pain and suffering of vilgers dying a bad death, especially if there were a lot of dying. Such spontaneously appearing bad pces beckon to such trash as honey beckons to bees or as one known, and now avaible in the assortment, substance beckons to flies.

  “I need wormwood, preferably dry, preferably a lot.” He said, washing his hands in clean well water and tying on his wrists two thin white ribbons, also found by the vilgers in their storerooms, the kind of girlish things braided into braids. “Plenty more boiling water, you can hang a cauldron on the same fire. I'll brew a potion to soothe the stomach. Bring all the bnkets, put the sick on them, they'll have to stay here, I won't go to the houses, I don't have time. And why the fuck didn't they bring that old woman on the left? Did I say something unclear?”

  "But it's Kzhka. Her son, the breadwinner, had already died, and his wife had also died, only the youngest was left...." Stepan, when he realized what was going on and that Taram had once again determined the “cost-effectiveness” of saving this particur victim a little lost his temper, and literally, because he felt the spirit almost spilled out of the body, breaking through the shroud of disguise from the inside. "Ay, oy, ay-ay, I got it. I got it all. I got it, don't hit anymore!"

  The old woman's lungs were already worn out by life, and then there was mold and pneumonia, which had arisen from long lying in an unheated house. It was really unprofitable to save her, but without her, Stepan wouldn't get a free stat, so no more social Darwinism, long live enlightened humanism. First get all the mold out of the body with a spiritual limb, taking advantage of the fact that no one can see it anyway, then help with dehydration, controlbly pnting a weak rain spirit in the aura, while a couple more spirits patch up the intestinal microflora and heal the lungs. The reserve was running out fast, but still bearable. The young man achieved his goal quickly, having waited until the shitty grandmother, swearing like a cobbler, coughs up bckish mucus, from which most of the “helpers” from her involuntarily retreated, and then ordered the sor to strengthen the goodness of health on the old hag who had come to her senses.

  "The next man over there, the one with a burn on half his face, and change the water. Don't forget to stir the cauldron." The young girl with a surprisingly ugly face only nodded and began to spin the dle so furiously that she would fly up with the cauldron, creating the world's first hand-powered helicopter. It was not surprising, because the burned man was her father after all. "Pour a mug of broth for the old woman and give her broth to drink, and don't eat anything solid for three days. And water for me, clean, in a mug.".

  After getting drunk, the young savior of grandmothers returned to work, already more confidently and habitually, at the expense of the existing experience, healing the almost-dead man. This one, despite his youth and strong body, had an even harder time than the grandmother, as he seemed to be standing too close to the epicenter of the opening of the moldy barrel. He had to call over him much longer, pulling the chest note, merging it into a simple and primitive melody, pnting time after time the right spirit, taking out pieces of dead tissue and bad blood with a spiritual grip, giving decoction, but he healed him too, giving the same order as about the grandmother, telling him to bring the next one faster. And the next. And the next. And another. And again. And again.

  At first, the vilgers, who had helped him out of desperation, now acted with real enthusiasm, seeing that the sick, if not recovering, were no longer dying. When they began to fall off their feet from fatigue, Stepan sent the unsteady ones to sleep, sending a spirit to pump them up with strength, and giving them special nuts, bitter as vilge life, but nourishing and really tonic. Though they should not be eaten often, or it would be very bad. Instead of resting, he immersed himself in meditation and tried to replenish his reserves as soon as possible or renegotiate contracts with spirits who had exhausted their contracts. If it were not for the strengthening of the mark of spheres, he would not have been able to pull out, not enough at once, but thanks to her spirits often agreed to work for free, with a very rge discount, for the promise to pay ter, or just out of a desire to help the shaman.

  The chance to get a free unit to the Constitution was lost around the first night, just as another portion of wood was thrown into the fire. The first of the patients died, there was no way to help him, because he had something wrong with his stomach and intestines before, and here an ulcer drilled through the stomach wall, and the patient died suddenly. If at that moment Stepan had not been so busy saving the life of a pretty girl. The one who had never been married - the patient could have been saved, but he was busy, and the spirits did not dare to disturb the fatally tense and busy shaman.

  The second dead patient was met by the young man much more calmly, stoically even, though it was a shame too: the old grandfather was already living out his st months, and here his tired heart simply failed, and it was not even reted to the disease. Stepan, who was rescuing two nine-year-old boys at once, twins, by the way, only twitched, but he didn't try to help, he didn't see the point - the reserve was already steadily at the lower quarter, some of the spirits were already working on enthusiasm, so it was decided to let the old grandfather go wherever he decided to go for a new adventure in the style of Dumbledore. He had taken on the twins only because they were close enough, due to the identical mirroring of their auras, for the spirits to agree to cure two for the price of one. Stepan felt that he was no longer a shaman, but some kind of salesman, but he didn't want to miss the chance to save the scarce reserve.

  The wood had burned down to coals, he said not to add any new ones. The herbs used for gastric collection had long since run out, they even had to go into the stocks of rural medicine, finding tolerable substitutes, energy roots with the effect of a bucket of caffeine were chewed not only by the vilgers but also by the earthman himself. At st the st of the patients was sent to help the others. His hands, covered with cuts, ached because he had to feed the most necessary spirits with his blood so that they would not scatter. His throat and chest ached from the dull throat singing that sounded for two and a half days. His back ached from the constant stooped stance. His fingers ached from tirelessly dragging, grinding, and carving the small guardian totems. Even the aura, though not damaged - if it had been, Stepan would have failed the assignment rather than taken the risk - was a little whimpering from the amount of power that had passed through it, from the number of marks on successfully closed or partially suspended contracts. He didn't know what he wanted more - to eat, to sleep, to kill, or to die quietly in some distant corner.

  “That's it, I'm done.” His voice had gone hoarse and he couldn't even fight off a couple of little kids with scoops for the sandbox, but it was a little comforting to see the genuine and purely tangible respect and reverence from everyone still on their feet in general. “I need to sleep at least a little. And I swear, if anyone wakes me up, I'm not responsible for myself.”

  A little staggered, but still keeping his bance, Stepan couldn't resist activating the contract he had already paid for to look at himself from the outside and almost shuddered: pale, gaunt, with bruises under his eyes just like the day of the hit, glistening from the sticky sweat that covered him, naked from the waist down and shivering from the cold. He did not look like a fearsome shaman from the depths of the primordial forests, but rather like a living illustration of the term “hug and cry”. Even the system, though it counted the increase of level, the fulfillment of the assignment in full, and even Milfgodess threw something, but nothing of these gifts in his mind and soul did not enter, as if hovering on the edge of perception. Just accept this block of gifts and deserved rewards, they would immediately become yours, but obviously, in his current state they would be to his detriment and even the system was aware of it all.

  * * *

  Stepan woke up lying on a rather hard but clean bed or rather come to his senses. It was an unfamiliar room, a typical medieval-style vilge hut: absolute silence, and a bright ray of sunlight shining through the bubble-covered window. Nearby, right in front of his eyes, y the young shaman's not-too-neatly folded supplies, he even vaguely remembered that he had collected them and put them there, where they were now lying. The vagueness of the memories was matched only by their general unpleasantness - sick people, deadly fatigue, aura constantly aching from ck of reserve, and the stench of shit embedded in their bodies. That was the reality of a real healer-savior's job, and, admittedly, the experience had made the Earthman realize that the healer css was definitely not for him.

  Despite all his efforts, even the reward was not received in the maximum configuration, because two corpses completely blocked the opportunity to get a free unit of Constitution, which was especially frustrating, because the body's power would not be superfluous now. If they had been sick with just the crap that the whole vilge had inhaled, he would have been able to walk the edge, still succeeding. As, as in earthly medical practice, the problems caused by the primary diagnosis led to a weakening of the body, and so the patients manifested a whole bunch of concomitant diagnoses. Mostly, of course, dehydration and pneumonia, but Stepan quickly learned to deal with them because of their massiveness. Unfortunately, he did not expect a very strong and bleeding ulcer right in front of a rge vessel, nor did he expect a massive heart attack.

  There's still a second-grade value award left, but nothing stings a munchkin's ass like a missed opportunity to become a little stronger. But he did get a little stronger, not even “a little” because his status is so full of unaccepted modifications, and if he doesn't want to go down for a couple of days, taking on a drastically expanded knowledge base. Now is the time to take care of that problem. Oh, well, it's a pleasant problem and just such debates Stepan would be engaged in all day long. And the first thing the young man did was to accept the knowledge that was not connected with the completed task, as well as with the increased level, in any way.

  Received: “advanced basics of working with healing spirits”; increased affinity with the spheres of healing, purity, and life; increased likelihood of gaining the knowledge and properties of the healing branch.

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  To be honest, this was probably the first of Stepan's talents that he didn't feel he had gotten for free because he had worked very hard to get from the “basics” to the “advanced basics”. Literally, he had worked hard, sweat and blood from numerous cuts, when the spirits had to be fed with blood and life force because there was no magical power left at all. Oh, and he still has to distribute debts to all debtors and a little more on top, in gratitude for not abandoning in a difficult moment and helping only at the expense of authority, multiplied by the mark of the spheres. The same totem with a sor should be a couple of days, preferably clear, put on the roof of the house to catch the rays of the sun, to feed on them properly, it will also strengthen the essence without unnecessary waste of reserves.

  But knowledge, yes, knowledge is strong, strongly reted to most of the others, even the hermit and the bewitches. It's just that the former is now revealed to the guy as a kind of master of tactical medicine in the field, and the tter gains a lot from the understanding of working with subtle bodies, life currents, and living flesh. It's just that this understanding is sharpened for another, but in some ways, spirits-healers and spirits-sensualists are quite simir, because both are important subtlety of work, invisibility, and lightness of touching the energy. But this is so, just a fun detail, but more in-depth skills of dialogue, allowing you to direct the spirit or several spirits-healers to exactly those tasks that need to be done - it is a power, as well as a list of rituals, offerings, and calls, sharpened to call specific entities, many of which are specialized not even on healing as such, but more narrowly. Curing female infertility or male impotence (hello, hexes, yes, yes) and only on humans, or hobbits, or orcs, and so on. Or only dealing with festering wounds exclusively from steel and bronze weapons. The narrowness is compensated for by the fact that such spirits in their narrow direction can work at the level of another master of healing-oriented magic. A master of healing! However, to cover all possible variants of wounds or painful conditions, will have to keep a retinue the size of the state apparatus of the average city hall of a huge city, and this is only for healing, not counting protective and fighting spirits.

  As soon as the knowledge was assimited, the next reward was activated, given for the full closure of the assignment, and these messages seemed to be separated, not together and in a row, but separately. Stepan was gd of this attitude because he had enough headaches to spare, so he closed his eyes, sank into meditation, and prepared to accept the reward.

  Level up!

  Received one free talent point!

  And as soon as this message was perceived, disappeared from under the inner eye, new, more substantive messages immediately cascaded.

  Received: “contract with a strong spirit: the Eater of Diseases”.

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  The reward for completing the quest to heal the vilgers who had suffered from their own greed and idiocy turned out to be really good. The spirit was even stronger than the sun spirit, quite noticeably stronger, but his contract was much less harsh than with the gifts from the Divine Milf. Whereas the same powerful Sleepwalker was completely useless within the confines of the contract and would not agree to work outside of it, here the spirit was working within the broad confines of his narrow specialization. A somewhat darkish but not quite dark and evil intangible servant liked to eat diseases, illnesses, infections, viruses, and, as Stepan suspected, even prions, fungi, and enemy nanorobots if there were any.

  The entity could be of little use against wounds, curses, or poisons, though it would not be completely useless. Diseases, even the most subtle ones, were just food for him... unless they were magical because that was a whole other matter of which this spirit was not particurly familiar. Suffice it to say that if Stepan had had this entity at his disposal at the very beginning of the battle for the lives of the inhabitants of the Upper Lyades, it would have been over in one evening and another chunk of the night. The spirit could be summoned only once a month. The month was measured by the new moon and unused summons were burned. But once summoned, he would eat diseases until the sick ran out, until the summoner's reserve ran out, because he paid for the spirit's stay himself (unlike Autogoddess contracts, where everything was already paid for, even the breakthrough fee), or until the summoner ordered the spirit to leave. If the illness is exotic or unusual enough, the spirit may or may not consider the summoning free of charge. Passing the contract further down the chain of generations is quite acceptable, but only for one direct descendant, which the current owner of the contract must choose and indicate to the spirit with a separate call. And yes, such a summon will also spend a month's limit, because the spirit is a cunning and greedy asshole, as any old and strong entity of the high spheres should be.

  Received: “issuing system assignments III”, “basic practice of remote control of spiritual entities”

  Talents gained are added to the overall Pyer status.

  Honestly earned meta-skill not only increased the already existing system of issuing assignments but also improved it qualitatively. And the changes were really noticeable. First of all, it was now possible to take two assignments at once - however, only one of them could be “medium”, while the second one had to be “small” or “tiny”. They were pced in the status and highlighted as active. On top of that, two more assignments could be set aside as temporarily not taken, to keep them there. But, as soon as you add something new, the old assignment will disappear and be considered unaccomplished, so the new assignment will be given after the dey, even if the rest of the current assignments are complete in full. The help also promised that the timing of assignments will be more flexible, as well as the rewards, but even small tasks will now be slightly more difficult than before. Oh yes, small tasks no longer raised the experience bar, but more often gave material rewards.

  Stepan immediately remembered the totem with the sun spirit. The way the totem had appeared in front of him in the brief moment he blinked. He didn't mind getting more gifts like that: the system's gifts were always of very high quality, the highest possible in its value segment, just like with knowledge. The increase in difficulty didn't really upset him, because he had become stronger, and the loss of pumping didn't upset him either. Small assignments already brought almost less experience than he received in the process of performing such a task. The ability to save hard and not tied-to-time assignments pleased him because the medium assignments seemed to be hard nuts, for the sake of which will have to sweat seriously. And the call, for which the young man had received his gift totem with the sun spirit, would have been much easier if he had at least half a day to prepare, without having to rush into the summoning and ritual.

  The second knowledge, which again forced him to turn off for a while, sinking deeper into himself and threatening to return not soon, turned out to be no less interesting. In essence, this knowledge, even in its most basic configuration, depended more than others on how strong its user was. Yes, in a way, as the level increases, all knowledge, even the initial ones, becomes stronger from the synergy with all other lines in the status, but in the case of remote control techniques, this point was especially clear. Stepan in his first days would not get much out of this knowledge, at most learning to keep the summoned spirits at a distance of a couple of hundred meters. Now, having already had a very well-developed spiritual dialog and call practice, from which he could support the spirits at a much greater distance even without this knowledge... Now, he could, having properly prepared and drawn himself a ritual pattern and ten kilometers to send the spirit, and twenty, and even thirty. And not only to send but also to effectively see through it, pump power to it, and control its actions. Logic suggested that at higher ranks of the skill, as well as at a higher level, it would be possible through such a medium to call new spirits immediately to the pce where the guide is located, and not near himself, but so far the earthling just knew that it was possible.

  Again, the most benefit from this knowledge was gained by the love charm's skill block, simply due to the fact that this block is very massive, but that's nothing. The ability to strike lightning from the sky on the enemy at a distance of five to seven kilometers - that's good. From the maximum distance, the same three dozen, Stepan will be able to spy and peek at the maximum, and enough power for an active attack simply will not be able to transfer, unless he prepares this attack in advance and sends the spirit already with it. The whole point of this knowledge is to bring part of his aura and spiritual body in resonance with the body of the called entity, due to which a special connection is formed. Through this connection - through the world of spirits, where the real distances do not mean much - will go the channel of power transmission, perception of images, and delivery of orders. The technique, though still only basic, is very strong because the question of distance for cssical mages and even for shamans has always been a problem, although the tter, of course, can solve it more easily. And, if it were not for the spiritual transformation, as well as the skills of control of the spiritual body, Stepan would hardly be able to apply even a basic technique at his current level. The second of his “ultimatum” properties also pyed a role, because this type of contact and spirit control could well be hidden right under the Shroud, controlling the summoned entity somewhere in there, without showing distortions in the aura. Well, as long as he doesn't start putting too much power, but can observe, although he needs to check.

  The young man, who had finished taking a new portion of power, rolled over to the other side again, keeping his eyes closed and taking advantage of the vilge's hospitality, because they really owed him a lot. Next in line was another gift from the Autogoddess - funny enough, a reward for a quest, even if it was an invested talent, was not considered a gift, so even the meta-skill of issuing assignments lost mention of the gift - but here everything went much easier for the brain because the gift turned out to be a property. The aura shook a lot while the property was being built into the thin body. Stepan felt a very warm table tennis ball stuck just below his navel. He read the system help trying to understand what he had been awarded by the lover of corsets, frank lingerie, and stupid jokes.

  Received: “tantric spiritual hearth”.

  Talents gained are added to the overall Pyer status.

  When he read the description of the new property, he wanted the same thing he always wanted after reading Her gifts or assignments. The property was not bad, to be fair, really not bad, slightly increasing the base rate of replenishment of the reserve, without affecting the volume of the reserve, as was the case with most of the other properties like “accelerated replenishment”, which cut the total reserve of magic no weaker than increasing the rate of its filling. However, the speed of replenishment increased in the base, that is, without direct effort, while in active meditation, the increase in speed became, although not cosmetic, noticeably more moderate.

  The reason for the earthling's emotions was the main value of this property - the ability to restore the reserve of both himself and his partner very quickly when having sex. If this activity was supplemented with specific rituals of tantric practices, this “very quickly” became even faster. In fact, even simple sex could now replenish the reserve for him and his partner at the level of a properly performed and rather complicated ritual. With the ritual, the result was almost multiplied. From the little things - the experience gained from lewd pumping also increased, which kind of hints. Stepan was more offended not even by the little useful property - however, pluses to potency and male strength will not be superfluous either, just in case - but by the fact that there were no tantric rituals for sex in the set. Some things in this direction were opened by charms, and some things were given by already well-developed call practice, but for the full use of properties, it was necessary to get the necessary knowledge.

  And this knowledge was not given to him!

  It had even appeared on the list of those avaible for talent points given with levels. But for the mere thought of putting a point into this knowledge for fun, his own Common Sense almost turned into a physical avatar, threatening to put some common sense into Stepan's ass. No way, things were going to go exactly as pnned here, no other way. After going through the lists of avaible talents and looking through the help once again (and noting a few new options avaible to choose from that would be worth considering ter), he took a decisive breath, exhaled, prepared for another information tsunami, and then upgraded one of his most important skills to “advanced developed call practice”.

  He wasn't wrong about one thing for sure - he was indeed overwhelmed.

  In this block of knowledge, there were not just recipes for summoning and agreements with powerful spirits. There were frankly strong entities here. Analogs of the Sun-spirit or a virologist's dream. Much more interesting was information about summoning spirits comparable in strength and power, but already exclusively combat-oriented. Such spirits could confidently overpower or disperse an average of fifty brigands, supported by a couple of gifted with amulets. To summon them, of course, is not easy, even for a one-time contract, but it is quite possible for him, especially if not directly in battle, but in advance, having prepared, creating an anchor, or pnted in an amulet. But to conclude an analog of a permanent totem service, as with the sunman, not to mention the eternal contract written directly into the blood and soul, as with an infectious disease specialist - it's another matter, here quickly can not cope. According to the young man's estimates, even with all the bonuses from system pumping and reinforcing properties, it would take almost the whole winter and part of spring just to make preliminary agreements and create a draft contract.

  That doesn't mean Stepan won't be doing it. It just means that the winter and part of the spring will be very busy for him. He needs a good combat contract, he needs it very much because no matter how warm the two contract gifts from Milfdy were to his soul, he still wasn't as strong in combat as he could have been. And now, with root marking, an improved mark of spheres, dialog and call practice brought to its current maximum he could try. He wouldn't be able to summon an analog of the magister, he wouldn't even try, but the earthman, due to the synergy of properties and knowledge, could get a spirit that a senior shaman would consider a pearl of his collection, for loyal service or at least for a dozen or two summons.

  Stepan spent the rest of the time before his sleep inexorably rolled over him to check the features the newly improved knowledge had gained from the synergy between the existing ones. Love charm specialists, among which some could be compared in power to Sleepwalker. Healing spirits, which could be used to pull even from clinical death, and then resurrect, mend bones, and send to lie down for a couple of weeks, instead of death. Ways to summon a powerful servant in the wild and primitive conditions, having from the toolkit about nothing, as befits a powerful hermit shaman. Curses and removal of them with the help of the spirit of his own and summoned spirits. Combat tactics and doctrines of using the above-mentioned entities. The ability to react clearly and quickly, fitting new tricks into existing tactical tricks. And, of course, all sorts of aspects of the use of spiritual transformation, due to which it was possible to strengthen certain elements of the calls very dramatically, although with the waste of reserve.

  "Status." Stepan's lips didn't even whisper these words, only opened, while he just thought about what he wanted, getting better and better adjusted to the mental interface and seeing no reason for unnecessary words and gestures, except that he still whispered the following words aloud, only very quietly. "How good I am, how powerful my tired paws are. The main thing is that they are not hairy, yes."

  Level: 14

  Css: Shaman

  Characteristics: (free: 0)

  Talents (free): 0

  Constitution: 1

  Sensitivity: 7

  Power: 5

  Control: 2

  Source: 4

  Spirit: 8

  Resistance: 1

  Knowledge acquired: speaking and writing: Free Cities, academic Neirat, Isnd Kingdom; advanced developed call practice; advanced fundamentals of spiritual dialog; wilderness hermit; advanced basics of working with healing spirits; advanced basics of casting shamanic charms (GIFT); basic techniques of dream-inducing and dream correction (GIFT); the advanced basic practice of combat calls; basic techniques of interaction with magical sources; basic techniques of countering curses: basic fundamentals of fast call; the advanced basic practice of spiritual operation; the knack of a martial call; basics of spiritual haggling and contract agreements with otherworldly entities; the basic practice of remote control of spiritual entities

  Minor knowledge: contract with an elder spirit: Sleepwalker (GIFT); contract with the elder spirits: The Shroud of Touch and the Creator of Decisions (GIFT); a contract with a strong spirit: The Eater of Diseases.

  Obtained properties: blessings of health and long life; toughness of spirit; resilience of subtle bodies; small mark of spiritual spheres (GIFT): spiritual shroud of higher auric concealment (GIFT); flexible transformation of the spiritual body; marking of fallen leaves and bck roots; a tantric spiritual hearth

  System modifiers: peaceful development I; issuance of system assignments III; lecherous development II (GIFT)

  Special: Blessing of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney: likely to grant additional talents as you level up; grant specific system quests with increased rewards; hidden effects

  As Rodisv Gastoldovich Yanin would say, may the Autogoddess save the unfortunate Satan from meeting him on the day when this bastard finally gets to the very heart of Hell, the problem with Stepan's hands is not only that they are powerful and, presumably, hairy. The problem is that those hands grow out of his ass.

  * * *

  The first thing that happened when he woke up after a long slumber, having internalized the consequences of his sudden but very effective training, was that the kind vilgers fed their hero. They gave him a very good broth, fearing to strain the stomach of a man who had been sleeping for almost three days. Apparently, his awakening was awaited, because as soon as he came to his senses and called the owners of the house where he had been put, as immediately began the commotion around his person. It was fun, of course, but even pleasant, because deep down Stepan was afraid of waking up tied up and robbed or hanging at the stake, because two of his patients had died, so if not for his treatment, they would have survived, that's for sure. The local medieval morons were much more humane than you'd expect them to be, or he made a positive impression. Even his personal belongings remained untouched, including his wallet, which was still at the bottom of his bag.

  As soon as the young man had satisfied his first hunger, the headman of Upper Lyady came to visit him. He looked different from Gozb: short, wiry, thin as a sliver, with skin tanned to a bckish tan, while most of the vilge popution was pale. Except that his mustache was the same as that of Ronna's, except that it was bck and gray instead of wheat. In his normal state, and not suffering from fatal diarrhea, he looked very respectable, which was only enhanced by the clothes he wore. Practical, sturdy, and, though not battle-worn, it was felt that this type had been a long time not a peasant, and knew on which side to take up arms. Even now he had a good knife hanging from his broad belt, with a carved handle made of some bone. This type, who introduced himself as Kirik, spoke surprisingly correctly, without twisting words and swallowing vowels, which favorably differed from his Darwinist son, who temporarily took over the power in the vilge, while daddy was ill. Judging by the fact that he was in no hurry to drag his father to the cure and the son himself was not here now, the father thought something bad about his son. Well, or Stepan was just suffering from the syndrome of overthinking, which is also a common thing.

  "My son is smart, but a fool, as it is." Right away, from the first line, the man destroyed the expectation, because the earthling was waiting for the start of the bargaining, in which he would be proved that everything would be fine without treatment and he only made it worse. Therefore fuck off, isekai. "He kept urging me to knock down the price, to push to a weakness, saying, you will agree to get at least something than to leave with nothing at all, and you won't fight with the whole vilge when you're tired? Foolish fool, he was looking for a trick, but I, thanks to the Fertile One, am a little wiser. You, honorable man, you took pity on us shitheads. Let's be honest. For the price you named, a normal healer who could really help, not a chartan, wouldn't even lift his ass from the chair, let alone exhaust himself to the point of colpse. Thank you. I tell it like it is and I back it up with the coin.

  With these words, he put a rather heavy purse on the table without unnecessary ado, and it was untied, which made it easy to see that most of the coins were copper. Not “heavy”, but small, even chopped, and not much silver. But even by approximate estimations, it turned out that there was more than twice as much as he demanded in payment and certainly more than the young Darwinist assured him, saying that he was tearing the st from his heart and that he had nothing at all.

  “Here is really everything that the whole vilge could gather, I give you my word.” The extremely serious uncle continued, without averting his gaze, but the former student had perfected the skill of the game of staring. “Maybe someone will still have something in their stashes, I won't lie, but it's not my fault or my will, gods be their judges. I know it's still not enough for the way you almost burned your gift. No, you didn't. I realized how you got back on your feet so fast. When the squad magician burned himself out, he y there for a month before he could even walk. And then he made a noose for himself? I am far from your magical affairs, but I know its price, believe me.”

  He stood up, bowing low to his waist, and there was no subservience or ingratiation, only quiet self-confidence. It was strange that such a great mastodon had grown up the little shit with whom he had to communicate during the ritual of rescuing the suffering. That's for sure, nature had rested on his offspring.

  “There's not much money in the vilge. It so happens that we have invested all our free money, but the harvest will be excellent, and the wild honey farmer, the fishermen, even the bcksmith - all the goods have been made. The only thing left to sell out.” After bowing, Kirik did not finish his heartfelt speech. “If you come here in the spring, I will gdly pay the healer's honest rate personally, out of my own, if necessary. I won't be able to pay the full rate, I won't lie. Unless I go into debt, but two-thirds of it. If you need something, your magic, tell me as it is, and I'll try to fulfill it, as long as there is no bckness and blood. Though it's clear enough that an evil-doer or a cursed one wouldn't exhaust himself like that for the sake of the vilgers.”

  His knowledge of the nguage, which in fact was much deeper than mere understanding, allowed him to intuitively understand what he meant by transting “evil-doer” as cssic curser, and “cursed” as a mixture of the necromancer, demon-worshipper, and everything that in the peasant mind represented a cssic evil sorcerer. Stepan even ughed at such a somewhat clumsy diplomacy, when you seemed to be praising, but in fact, clearly showed the limits of your gratitude. However, he was not going to ask for three children and a virgin for dessert. If the task of sacrificing people who had done nothing to him appeared, he would simply cancel it, so he did not see any difference between such a restriction and its absence.

  “I was looking for a pce to winter.” Smoothly, without too much thought, yet listening intently with the spirit of words to every word unspoken. “I'm used to surviving in the woods, of course, but it's still uncomfortable. If you help me with this until spring, until the snows melt, then you've paid for it. And let's not talk too much, okay, Kirik? Yeah, I was pitying you, I won't argue. My grandfather would have come from the spirit realm back to the world of the living to fuck me over with a shovel if I'd turned around and left the vilge to die out. But if you try to sit on my neck, no offense, I will show you in practice that there is not much difference between medicine and poison."

  Instead of, well, heeding the threat and being frightened, the man only smiled in a very braggadocio and satisfied way. And he ughed, surprisingly not annoyingly, but even positively when you want to ugh after him. And, in response to Stepan's unreadable and meaningful look, he immediately expined.

  “Yeah, if I didn't know that after such sorcery your brethren were lying exhausted, I'd think you'd magically overheard my son, Taram.” He actually wiped away a tear, not in a nice gesture, but quite literally. “No, I will not incur the magician's wrath. If they're going to treat me, they'll do it in a normal way, for a fee, not for a tearful story. Don't hold it against my boy, I'll give him a beating. He grew up without me. I made him to my wife, and then I spent a year at home between visits, and when I came back and settled down, he was already fifteen winters old. He is still being brought up by me now, yes. So I went with my squad all the way to Morgrave twelve times, but I neglected my home. He grew up without me, and his mom spoiled him, just like she spoiled him. Though she was faithful to me all the years and spoiled my son, at least she educated her daughters normally. But I'll reeducate him. I'll beat some intelligence in him."

  In Stepan's opinion, such a beating has a chance to end with the fact that the son will not keep his father in the queue for healing, and will simply cut him down at night out of sheer anger, but he did not meddle in someone else's private life. There is little chance that this man sleeps in this man talent teacher, next to which Makarenko pales? But at least it became clear how this vilger had learned to talk so well, how he had mastered correct speech and everything: if you spend half your life traveling around like this, you will unwittingly learn to speak not like a vilger, simply because vilgers are paid less.

  “We'll find you a house, Khrol's already gone, and he's got only his nephew left alive. He can't take care of the house, let alone the field. He can't plow it alone. The house is on the outskirts, but it's good, and you magicians like the outskirts. It's better than waking up with cows.” The local most important expert began to reason, stroking his chin and thinking intensely. “We'll wash the house, we'll wash all the rags ... We've been washing the vilge all these days, just as you ordered - to drive away sickness and the stench of shit. Yes, we will. I'll give the boy to you as your servant, till the time of your departure. He's too young to do a man's work, though he's fourteen winters old, but not sixteen, he'll only be able to help in the field, no more, and so he'll gain strength, and he'll get a piece of bread from the community. So don't spare him, don't be stingy with your sps. I'll provide you with a provision. What's on my table is yours, and you won't find a bigger lover of food in the whole vilge than me. My daughters will do the undry. I don't promise you the conditions of a lord, but you'll have food and shelter until the st snow cap of the coming spring, I give you my word."

  In response, he extended his hand, albeit in a somewhat strange gesture, not like a cssic handshake, and Stepan, thinking a bit, responded with a symmetrical gesture. He himself is quite satisfied with the conditions. The house on the outskirts will allow him to quietly engage in training, and for serious rituals he can go into the forest, having arranged a full-fledged and protected from accidental breakthroughs call circle there. Of course, he will check the food with the utmost care, but it is clear, after the adventure in the bed of Truda and her daughter - it is a sin not to learn from his mistakes. Therefore, the young shaman tightly squeezed the wrist of the former mercenary and the current exempry vilger, who was sincere at that moment. But he knew very well from his earthly history lessons, both old and modern, about who mercenaries were in general, and Stepan didn't have much faith in this clever rascal. However, he would have time to check the dreams and thoughts of this old goat, making that dream eternal, if necessary, for the joy of his son, but for now, he could succinctly close their deal:

  "I heard the word." And after a moment's thought, the d continued more matter-of-factly. "I'd like to see the house, I think."

  * * *

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