Sparks of different colors from last time became somewhat brighter.

"It seems they have swallowed up the white mass that I threw at them," Ink speculated . - Last time I couldn't think clearly, looking around this place, but now I see that there are exactly nine of these strange "stars". The golden humanoid figure is the tenth, and the egg of the energy being is the eleventh. "

Ink wanted to start the experiment, but was not sure of the result, so he decided at first to practice the delivery of the "blot" to the minds of demons. He quickly found out that from the grimoire, particles of the archdemon's consciousness can only be transported to its light. Ink categorically did not want to allow such a thing . First, it occurred to him to leave instructions for the demons in the grimoire so that they would not disconnect the strands of the mind until they received a "blot", but the idea failed.

All attempts to leave a message in the book of Blackhorn were as fruitful as picking granite with a finger. Whether the problem was a lack of strength or the absence of a special tool, Ink still could not solve the problem, so he moved on to the auxiliary plan.

In a voice of reason, he called the demon to the wreckage of the column, and then stretched his thread of consciousness to the grimoire through their mind. The sensations were vile, but the demons did not resist and dutifully accepted the "blots". Their very world of reason turned out to be primitive. They did not lay out in several layers, like the contents of Ink a's consciousness , but looked like a sieve. How they could have something in their memory lingered remained incomprehensible. The reason for this was found quickly.

The cobwebs of the mind did not concentrate near the lamp, but dispersed throughout the giants' body.

"If my dream spreads out in a grid, I don't think anything, and their situation is even more complicated. There is probably nothing left except instincts. "

Ink did not try to read the memory of the demons. He simply took advantage of the voids in their heads. The place in which his memories were sealed - the interlayers between the accumulations of glass-like substance - was completely empty in these creatures. What it affects Ink could not even imagine.

"In any case, it's on my hand ... Why should they stretch the strands of consciousness throughout the body? It helps me control my abilities. Does this mean that every part of their body should receive this kind of control? If he is gone, then ... what will happen? They will not be able to move normally? Or will their skin become less firm? "

Periodically, one or the other demon fell into a riot. Ink saw an evil tall creature pounding stones and breaking them into pieces. At first he even wanted to try to copy their ability, but then he remembered that even a simple touch on someone else's thread of the mind could lead to sad consequences. He had no desire to risk even more.

Healthy "blots" hissed irritably and quickly sent Ink's consciousness out of his new receptacle. The particle of the mind of the archdemon that suffered in the collision with him behaved more modestly. She barely moved, but thanks to this she was able to examine in detail the process of mimicry. Information from the grimoire has become much clearer.

"If I had the same particle of reason, I would be able to make one of the demons my" preparation "for gaining strength. Unfortunately, the method of their creation was not indicated in the grimoire ... "

Ink wondered why there was any information about obsession.

"It seems strange, but if you pay attention to the method," blots "should be placed in a strictly established place of the mind. Without this information, I would not be able to cope with the task so quickly, and the demons themselves are too dumb ... Blackhorn cannot carry out the process itself. So he was sure that he would find an assistant for himself in this small world ... or he had already found it, and sent a grimoire specially for him. Did their deal not take place? Or did I just turn up on time? - Ink began to worry, but could neither confirm nor deny many of his assumptions. "The only thing I can be sure of is that I should be careful!"

The archdemon again disappeared somewhere, so Ink went down the hill, but did not go to his comrades. Their cave was formed right in this hill, a kind of altar of the archdemon in a small world. There could be other caves along the perimeter.

"I'll find a safe place, rest and try to copy the structure of the energy being in a golden figure"

Going around the hill, Ink began to lose patience, not finding a single cave or other shelter. From the opposite end, looking like a huge slab of rocky hill, a real surprise awaited him. There was not just shelter - Ink was met by the ruins of the temple. The structure was reminiscent of an ancient Greek architecture product. The ribbed columns - one of the fragments of which probably served as a stand for the grimoire of the archdemon - propped up the triangular roof. Behind the outer row of stone pillars one could see the walls of the room. In the depths of the dark, but small - only thirty steps - premises, Ink saw a stone throne.

Released strands of consciousness helped to see clearly the environment without any light sources. Ink trained to use voice of consciousness feeling the surroundings. It bore fruit - a pattern in the form of a triple spiral was discovered to the left of the entrance. Near the entrance to this temple, nothing alarming was found - stones, dust, desolation.

Ink crouched behind a fragment of a column so that he could not be immediately noticed at the entrance. Immersion in the right layer of the mind took longer than expected - excitement prevented focus.

The dark space gave joyful anticipation, and the golden man and the energy creature in the egg beckoned to receive new strength soon.

"How can I call here the processes of the Klata function? - Ink tried to imagine the appearance of "grain", mentally ordered him to leave, but this did not help. The effect appeared only after playing in the memory sound with which metal-like bands oscillated. "Finally appeared!"

Ink mentally directed the oscillating appendages to a human-like bunch of golden energy. They gradually absorbed into the luminous lump, dissolved in it. It filled Ink's heart with joy and peace.

The sound of cod came unexpectedly. Ink looked at the lines covering the egg and felt himself awakened from sleep.

"Why didn't I think it could be dangerous before?" - He felt a cold in his body and almost lost touch with this space in his mind. - What will happen when it hatches? Why here? Why now?"

Panic began to overwhelm Ink , because he realized one thing very clearly - the first thing newborn animals are looking for food. There was no good hen for this baby, there was nothing but the consciousness of the involuntary Ink Ubator of this creature. Words about the danger of mental beings in a grimoire left no illusions about the further development of the situation. Nekstati remembered the parasitic creatures ...

"I have to kill him first!"

Ink began to attack even before this thought finally took shape in his head. The threads of the light broke through the cracks and began to tremble violently. Everything that was known to him about the receptions of the voice of consciousness went into effect. The creature inside began to plaintively squeak and kick. A piece of shell fell off. Ink went mad and threw all his strength just to prevent the creature from escaping. Another squeak and creation literally attracted a golden man along with grain.

The shell scattered completely ...

From a small likeness of Triceratops a bright golden light emanated. Ink fluttered the strands of light so hard that he felt "numbness" in them. The creature screamed triumphantly. In the little evil eyes, Ink saw his sentence. Threads of grain began to spread through the body of the enemy.

Another sharp cry scared Ink and even more.

"Wait ... It screams in pain!"

In the heart of Ink a hope flashed. He tried to move his cobwebs of reason, but they hardly moved. The creature continued to scream, twitch in an attempt to tear off the tentacles of grain. Ink noticed that on the forepaws of the creature are five fingers resembling human fingers. Thick animal claws were fearsome, but they didn't stop the mini dinosaur from clutching the bands of the Klata function in its palms, pulling them and trying to break them.

Ink was ecstatic as he watched the suffering of a small energy being. Each compassionate scream was a delight for his ear, every shuddering of the calf - gave excitement and inspiration, every flicker of a golden radiance - a desire to scream with delight. Because the death of this creature meant life for Ink A.

The struggle of creation with grain continued for some time, until it ended in victory for the latter. As soon as the golden light finally went out, wriggling metal strips plunged into the body of the silent mini-dinosaur and disappeared. Ink waited and watched the creature intensely. With small jerks, he was able to bring the thread of consciousness closer and tried to push the body. Due to the incomplete fatigue, the cobweb could not create protection from vibration and touched the creature directly.

There was no reaction. The creature seemed dead. There was not even a trace of other people's consciousness.

"And how can I get rid of him now?" - Ink tried to drive away thoughts about the corpse in consciousness and what is happening with the bodies of animals. Any association with the decomposition of the remains provoked a desire to quickly get rid of this obviously superfluous detail in his mind. He even tried to bite a creature, eat it, as he gnawed white energy, but with the same success he could try to chew on a bronze statue of a dinosaur. "Maybe these stars will eat him?"

Ink pushed the creature toward a sparkling particle, hoping for the best.

Returning to reality, he fell asleep. As it turned out, fake feathers do not protect against the cold. Frozen Ink got out of the ruined temple and returned to the cave to his comrades. Grank met him with a grunt and an ultimatum refusal to go hunting again. Ink only nodded, agreeing that tomorrow he would have to get food with Kiass , after which he gladly chewed a piece of hot meat from an unknown animal and lay down closer to the fire. On this day, he had more than enough shock.