- When the reborn ones disintegrate due to the reassessment of their forces on Earth, they do not always manage to recover. And then we enter into business - those who know how to work with perfumes. They swore allegiance to me and are completely subordinate. Some lose part of their minds, others retain it. The most valuable ones have special abilities, "the blond explained. - You will be careless and replenish my collection. You know, if a person signs a contract with a necromancer during his lifetime, then he doesn't have to fulfill at all

her

requirements to become a spirit. Of course, abilities will not be obtained either, but I have something to offer my servants.

Grank did not respond to the words of the necromancer. He avoided the blows of the magician's servants. Ink noticed his attempts to create a strong explosion, as it was then in the buffer while landing in the sky. Opponents did not give time for this. He was persistently suppressed, the blows were knocked down and at some point the motorcyclist simply could not get up. His clothes were torn and burned in separate places. Ink noted with displeasure that there was no replacement for her.

- Your friend has already lost - a young-looking words necromancer his servants carried Grank well beyond the arena and put on one of the benches. - Want to avenge him?

- Kiass , how much? - Ink looked directly into the eyes of the magician provoking them.

"Forty thousand," the golden-skinned immediately realized what he was being asked about.

Ink went down to the arena. Near the border he stopped and examined the army of the necromancer. Ordinary people were completely unlike skeletons or zombies. They parted, opening a corridor to the magician. From above it was clearly visible, but here his servants closed the review, like an impenetrable forest.

"Wait a bit," Ink said . "We are still new, but we won't need much time to catch up with you."

"So you don't intend to fight me now?" - the blond specified with a polite smile.

"No," Ink stood outside the arena. He was afraid that he should step on it, and this would automatically mean his consent to the battle.

"What if I refuse to leave?" - the necromancer did not look like a bad guy, but for some reason continued to insist on a duel.

"It's your choice," Ink said, taking a step forward.

"What are you doing, idiot? !! - he scolded himself. In his thoughts, he imagined himself to be an adversary of some ordinary novice. Maybe a little stronger or faster than a normal person. Even some thrower of fireballs did not seem too dangerous to him. - Fight with a man-army? Exactly ... We are the students of Glam, so we are obliged to demonstrate at least a little madness. In addition, I wanted to learn from experience, and this is a great opportunity ... "

Spectators in the stands perked up. The necromancer's servants allowed Ink to walk forward, the same distance that was between him and Grank om. The blond looked at the sickles and for some reason grinned with the same condescending expression on his face.

"Maybe they should be called war sickles?"

Ink once again examined the crescent-curved blades in his hands. The gun was like a common agricultural tool in its form, but it was clearly not intended for grass and cereals. The large thickness of the blade gave the sickles massiveness. Sharpening was available not only from the inside, half of the outside - from the point - could also be used for cutting. The second half of the outer edge of the sickles - adjacent to the handle - became even a little thicker and was distinguished by additional elements. They could equally well portray surging waves, both on old frescoes, and fangs bent towards the hilt.

"Such things can bite into the flesh, if the sickle is correctly deployed, and the enemy sword is blocked so that it does not slip along the blade to the hands"

Ink from the weapon seemed exotic and therefore attracted. Yes, and the steel looked durable.

"I will study this weapon ... What difference does it make in my hands to lose: with a club or sickles. Though…"

Ink noticed a weapon in one of the sitting spectators that did not fit into his understanding of the word "club." Lacquered mace with a diameter of several centimeters and arm length. In several places it is compressed by metal rings with convex rivets. The handle has a leather loop for more reliable fixation of weapons in the hand.

"No ... not a ride. This is another direct weapon. What is the difference with a sword? Thought Ink . - In fact, also fencing, only without the ability to cut, chop and chop. Such a person would rather break her armor than cut her. There are also advantages, right? Just not with my talents to twist with a stick some feints and captures. With sickles, maybe it will still be possible to surprise someone, and even entertainment ... Who knows how long we should wait for Glam? "

Ink had a plan for victory , but with his abilities he could only count on victory using foam from the force field. Squeeze the opponent out of the field. You can't name such a victory spectacular, but you won't get much experience either.

"I'll try to deal with the enemy with weapons. If it doesn't work, I will use foam. In any case, this is my insurance and life ticket. I'll study fencing with sickles in practice, it's better than messing around with a club. "

"Maybe you will start already?��� - urged the necromancer. "I'm tired of standing here."

"Then he could have left much earlier," Ink objected , "when you still had such an opportunity."

- Opportunity? The blond laughed. "I thought you were smarter than your friend, but it turns out ... eh?"

Ink did not wait for the end of the enemy tirade. Rainbow foam flew out of the force field in all directions. It took a few seconds to fill the entire arena. Opponents tore the obstacle, but Ink already rushed to the necromancer. One sickle moved toward the blond's knee - from the inside, so as not to collide in the cloak. The other is to the throat.

The world is spinning. Ink felt the punches belatedly. His face was pressed to the floor of the arena, and his hands were twisted by a necromancer.

"Like that," the blond voice was heard from behind. - You did not think that in battle you can do without knowledge of martial arts?

Ink tried to get out of the grab, but it was all useless.

- You lose.

Necromancer released Ink a.

��Maybe you should let me practice with some of the newcomers?"

"Okay," the blond began to absorb the fog into which his servants began to decay. "You said you could quickly catch me?" I will wait.

Ink have thought that in such cases it is necessary to feel anger and frustration. Nothing like these emotions visited him. He believed that the whole thing is in the keenra. His attitude to a variety of things changed due to the vision of a greater number of details in the picture of what was happening.

"Do any of the newcomers want to fight me?"

Asked by Ink , a man in full steel armor stood up. He moved in a pile of iron dexterously enough. It seemed that there was no difference with ordinary clothes for him. The fight started simply. The enemy grabbed the sword with both hands and jerked forward, striking from above. Ink tried to dodge, setting one of the sickles aside for the sliding block of the sword. The opponent has sharply shifted the center of gravity.

A pile of iron piled on Ink a, and an attempt to bend so as not to get hit was almost successful. Latnik left the sword in one hand, and the second in the reverse stroke tried to strike with a chained elbow. Unfortunately for him, he touched the horn with his shoulder. Steel tore like chocolate foil. Ink , who lost his balance , fell and rolled back a few steps. At the latnik, who was silent from the very beginning of the battle, the armor was torn in the triceps region. Ink felt blood on the horn and hastened to preserve it, as he had done after a collision with a blood mage at a reception at Michaelon.

Latnik hesitated, so Ink rushed forward himself. After a false swing that forced the enemy to take a defensive stance, he turned around his opponent with a rotation around his axis. A wide swing of the hand allowed without looking to hook the latnik with a sickle. It was not possible to break through the defense on the neck, but Ink did not plan this. He struggled to keep moving forward. Sickle played the role of a hook, and the armor from the jerk fell to the floor.

Ink quickly turned around, kicked the enemy's hands holding the sword, pressed it on the flat part, pressing the enemy's weapons with his weight and looked with his eyes to the gap in which at least the tip of his weapon could be inserted.

"I give up," the voice from under the helmet sounded muffled.

- AND? Yes ... - Ink did not immediately realize that the battle was over and he needed to move a bit.

Latnik left the arena simply, without pathos and ostentatious coolness. Against the background of the actions of the necromancer, this seemed somewhat discouraging.

- How are you? - Ink sat down next to Grank om.

"Fine," the motorcyclist's answer sounded even. Bruises appeared on his face, but he looked calm.

Kiass's fight went a little boring. A newcomer came out against him, who was surprisingly fast. The strikes did not bring problems to the golden-skinned, but he himself could not catch the enemy. After ten minutes of useless brawl, both were so tired that they agreed to a draw and parted. To Ink's surprise , Arsi also entered the arena . The girl climbed the stairs and grew - from a child's form to the usual form of first acquaintance. What were the features of her opponent, no one understood. The fight was too fast and most spectacular.

The enemy was in some kind of thick coat. Hit with a sword vertically from above to the head of Arsi . The girl was divided into two halves. Someone with a less acute perception might have thought that he cut it in half, but Ink saw that the two halves did not fall apart into fog, but seemed to dissolve in air. One of the Arsi halves released a bright pink snake from its sleeve, which was exactly what Yuvi showed them in one of the cells with a red mark. The swordsman scared back, right under the punch of the second half of the girl. Something blue flashed and the strong man was thrown back several meters. He could not rise himself. The girl restored her integrity without any problems.

Arsi came down from the arena and shrank to her infant form. Going to the bench on which the three students of Glam sat, she jumped up and turned into that same pink snake. When the reptile fell on Ink's chest , he involuntarily started and for some reason pressed it to himself, instead of throwing it away. A snake wrapped around his hand and slowly crawled onto his shoulders. He habitually grasped her with a force field, which made it possible to feel the instability of this form.

"It looks like a different look from people is not so easy for her," Ink thought . "Well ... Three of Glam's students performed so-so, and the girl he refused to teach managed to silence the entire arena."

The silence was deafening. For a while, only the footsteps of people who pulled a swordsman from the arena were heard. When the quiet conversations resumed, and new volunteers entered the arena, Ink got up and went to the door. I did not want to look at the fights completely. Impressions were much stronger than he expected.

"Good," Narkert met them at the top. - With such fights do not count on much, but I will provide you with food.

"Catch it," Yuvi threw Ink at the stone.

- What is it?

- Look at the blade carefully. If you want to continue to use sickles as hooks and thresh on steel, the whetstone will become your indispensable companion, - in the end, Yuvi even giggled at something. "You still have time to hate it."

Ink glanced at the blade. It was not dull, as he had already calculated, but was bent. A thin edge wrapped sideways in one area. So immediately, without looking closely, such changes can not be noticed. The defect is very small, but Ink did not doubt the veracity of the words of the blacksmith of the arena.

"Come back after the meal," said Yuvi. - There is one guy here, he can learn to work with sickles.

Looking where the blacksmith was pointing, Ink noticed the waiter who brought them.

"He brought us here," Kiass wondered .

"No," Ink objected . "This is the double we saw then."

- I see. Are there any who are willing to teach hand-to-hand combat?

- Ho? - Narkert looked at the ceiling, thinking about something. "I can help with that.�� But not earlier than tomorrow. Today I have a rest after hard work at the entrance.

"You just stood there and did nothing," said Yuvi.

- That's it! - the guy from the receptionist raised his finger instructively. "Nothing exhausts you like doing nothing."

"I'll be there, too," Grank said in the affirmative.

"Yes, yes," Narkert dismissed, "all come." You still have to pull up. Better than watching you walk hungry and full of holey wraps.

"Every day brings something new," Ink thought . "And looking at the attitude towards us, I begin to suspect that this is another training and test from Glam"

- I would like to get a textbook on Keenra.

"Here," Narkert took out a crumpled bundle of familiar brochures from his pants pocket and handed it to Ink . "For a long time you added two plus two."

Kiass raised his hand and opened his mouth, and froze for a couple of seconds, digesting what he heard. Grank reacted more violently - clenched his fists violently and roared with anger in his face, roaring the whole arena.

- Gleeeeeeeeeem!