Chapter 8

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The undead was... interesting, I'll put it that way. It couldn't have been scary, simply because I've seen far worse. And the dead from levels seven to twelve couldn't be particularly dangerous, either. Even without shadows, I could take them down in packs, if I had room to maneuver.

The only problem was their number and the lack of room to maneuver. Which made the boring meat grinder a very strenuous activity, aimed more at keeping myself and my companions safe and sound than at dull slicing of meat. Not that it was that difficult, but it did require some attention and effort, that's for sure. I had to think about saving my reserve, too, because it was a long shot that I would be given time to recover.

The undead themselves didn't even stink. After so many years of existence, the dead had dried to a parchment-like state. They were still not the textbook bones that moved solely on the power of magic, but the full-fledged living dead. Skin, muscles, claws, and all the other signs I remembered from the fantasy I'd read on Earth. I could also note the fact that the dead were light - all the liquid had long since evaporated with time, so their weight was quite ridiculous.

But the most important observation was that they were quite fast. Like a running man, even if he wasn't trying hard to run. There was no waddling gait with arms outstretched, and the movements were surprisingly crisp and sharp. It was like a deadly beast of prey that knew no pity, no fatigue, no sense of self-preservation. In short, I understood why the undead was so disliked by my companions: they were a very unpleasant foe, unafraid of injury and capable of delivering a lethal blow even when cut to pieces.

My daggers were a very unsuitable weapon for fighting the undead. The blade was too short, and I couldn't do the chopping and slashing. A sword, or even a truncheon, would have been much better, but that wasn't the case. The shadows helped, which doesn't surprise me at all. In shadow perception, I could easily sense the power of death filling the dead, allowing them to ignore the laws of biology, physics, and, in some places, logic, at the expense of their resources. If I used my Gaze, I could see the blue-black intertwining of veins and veins penetrating every inch of dead flesh. The center of the intersection was, incidentally, not in the head (though there were many there, too), but in the center of the chest, under the protection of the ribcage, which seemed to morph into a full-fledged box, leaving not a single gap.

An average warrior of equal level could be torn apart even by a single dead man, simply by the monstrous survivability. Even fighters with class would have trouble with such an opponent, unless, of course, they were specialized classes for fighting the undead. Hans would be torn apart like a rag, for Pathfinders have no proper attacking skills, and the ones they do have are for the living. Losius would have lasted a little longer because it's hard to find a more inconvenient foe for a deft duelist who specializes in critical strikes to the throat, heart, and joints.

The crowd pounding on us would have crushed us in a dozen seconds if it hadn't been for the presence of one novice Shadowlord among our company. The first thing I did was to start closing in on the enemy, preventing him from leaving the narrow corridor. In the case of the undead, that's a pretty smart decision, not allowing them to use the advantage of the numbers, especially if you have a set of quality armor and a sturdy shield. Both were replaced by shadows that prevented the dead from even touching my flesh.

Hans and Losius follow me, with silent and difficult to discern foul language, as they believe, to their certain death. All this in complete silence, for the dead men - another divergence from fantasy - do not growl or howl, but kill in silence. Before we face each other, I let the shadows in my daggers, literally cleaving the front ranks exactly in the center of my chest.

A Shadow is not the best weapon against Death, but it works. The otherworldly energy corrodes the enchantments that power the dead, thinning them, slowing them down, and dispersing them. The Gaze shows how enemies cut in half are transformed into mere lumps of old and desiccated meat and bone as the vein-wrappers that braid them unravel into a tangle of rotting threads.

The cutting begins shortly thereafter. I control the situation with relative ease. Although the enemies are deadly and not slow at all, with my 100 dexterity they are like flies in honey, and my perfect coordination allows me to unmistakably strike exactly where I wanted.

Shadow perception works well, tracking both the nearest corridors of the necropolis, checking for incoming reinforcements, and the back ranks of the advancing undead, which are far more saturated with death than the dead ahead of them. But the main job of the shadows is to cover my comrades-in-arms, unobtrusive but reliable.

Here Losius habitually strikes the dead man's throat, and his sword shines with an activated skill. The magic-soaked blade easily overcomes the resistance of magic and the dead man's flesh, cutting off his lifelessness, but on the return move, it pierces the heart of another dead man. This one, though permanently rested from the effects of the skill, has managed to get himself on the steel blade up to the hilt, restricting the duelist's movements. The shadows flickered, and in two movements, cast away both the body hanging from the blade and the few hands that reached for the exposed flesh.

Hans cleaves the head of one of the dead but does not have time to react to the second, which already delivers a fatal blow straight to the throat. The dead man's shadow jerks his host sharply to his feet, not only knocking him down but also exposing his skull to the pathfinder's finishing attack. And the pathfinder himself, without hesitation, plunges a silver-plated dagger into the heart of the third, forcing him to block the path of the fourth with his body.

And there are many such situations.

I don't kill their opponents, I don't help them, I just keep the enemy from taking advantage of human error and weakness by restraining and slowing down the irrepressible undead.

The corridor, from which more and more enemies arrive, is wide enough, but not so wide as not to be blocked by endless enemy corpses. Strangely enough, this plays into the hands of the dead, not us at all. They just push the dead bodies forward, literally squeezing us out like a cork out of a champagne bottle. I can use the shadows, get them to stab the enemy in the back, or even overwhelm the crowd in two or three attacks. But I'd have to spend most of my reserves, so I don't do that.

My foresight skill is low, but it's enough to understand what's going on. Whoever sent the undead here is watching the situation carefully through their eyes, which makes me keep my trump cards safe until the right moment comes. The important thing is that the moment comes when I'm ready for it.

I pull my comrades out of the fight by the scruff of the neck, letting the undead get out into the open. No doubt it was a mistake, but without using a huge number of shadowstrikes, I still could not change the situation. And so we left on our own terms-fresh and not fatigued, not wasting energy fighting for the corridor. The dead weren't tired, either, but at least something.

Round two.

Now I had to jump and leap like an amphetamine-addled frog to strike from different directions, while at the same time not letting myself get caught and distracting most of the opponents to myself. As soon as I see that the guys are ready to be mobbed and torn apart, I immediately run past and deal out kicks, distracting them to myself. A hundred dexterity and perfect coordination allow me to run between enemy rows, or even over their heads. In the latter case, you wish you had spiked boots.

By the way!

I willfully form spikes on the soles of my feet and short stilettos on my toes. It was harder to run, but now the shadow pricks were damaging. The Shadow's alien power was corroding the magic embedded in their bodies.

It's getting harder and harder to cover the warriors who are desperately fighting back and praying to all the gods combined, and they're getting tired themselves. On the other hand, they were already quite good at resisting the undead and cooperating with my help. Things began to even out as the wave of enemies ended, with fewer enemies and more time to react. On the other hand, we were pushed almost to the very edge of the hall, forcing our backs into the slammed passage.

But it was too soon to celebrate, and I knew that for certain, as the last of the foes burst into the hall. In the right way, they should have attacked under the cover of a crowd of weak undead, but maybe they know what they're doing. Or maybe they just didn't come in time for the fun. Or maybe they have no brains, which makes the tactics unacceptable to them and incomprehensible at the conceptual level.

Three wights in rusted-through and death-fueled armor, armed respectively with a sword, mace, and polearm with heavy turret shields. In my perception, they remain just as vicious, but unlike the undead, they have not only the lust to kill but also some vestiges of... No, not intelligence. Reflexes and skills, that's how. At the very least, their movements betray a confident command of the weapons issued to them. Levels nineteen through twenty-three.

Next to them were two ghouls that looked more like human-like beasts than humans. Bone plates and spikes covering their bodies, claws on their hands and feet as long as full-fledged daggers, and no intelligence in their eyes. These guys are even dumber than the lowest dead, but level twenty-four in both of them and their savage anger counterbalance that. The only thing still holding them back from attacking is the last member of their party.

This is really a classic skeleton in a decayed robe, with weightless gray ash and green sparks in it splashing between his bones. Also, this particular man is clearly sane. And, as you can easily guess, he's a magician. He showed us the latter easily by shooting a gray-green beam at Hans, who was leaning tiredly against the wall.

The shadow in front of the pathfinder took the hit and shattered into pieces, but I didn't hesitate to step toward both of the ghouls that had lunged at me. The first was put to rest with a dagger extended by the shadow along his whole body (don't jump on me!), the second lost first his paw and then his head, and I had to block with my crossed daggers the blow of a heavy rusty blade.

I barely had time to roll away when the damn dead warrior almost smeared me with his shield, and then I rolled again because another arrow of ash was already splattered where I'd been a second ago. And, of course, I was right under the impact of the mace.

Sphere notes indifferently that Losius and a slightly recovered Hans are trying to hold back the third warrior, who mercilessly pushes them, while the mage is preparing something large-scale.

Nah, I don't play like that.

After missing the death-emitting mace by a millimeter, I wrap my palm around my own shadow and, throwing the dagger to the ground, grasp the base of the mace. I jerk sharply, and the dead man, before he can hit me with his shield, falls forward, allowing me to leap onto the edge of the steel plate he'd been using as a shield, and grow shadowy claws on my hand to crush his skull.

My hand ached and tingled, and the energy of death was not doing me any good. I pushed away from the collapsing corpse (a corpse now, for sure) before the blow of the blade cut me in two. The armor-clad body of the destroyed foe was not shattered by the blade, but it did penetrate, and then it stuck.

Hovering in the air during combat is cool and badass, but too dangerous for my health, so the shadows pull me closer to the ground, and I throw the clump of shadows that had previously enveloped my palm in the direction of the scheming mage.

In time.

The out-of-control spell erupts in green ash, then falls to the ground, while the skeleton mage (or is it still a lich?) tries to shake off the shadows that envelop him. I add a bit more energy to keep the scum occupied longer, if not kill them. I evade the blade strike of the too stubborn dead man.

I warm up again with my blade and come in from the left side, uncovered by my shield, whipping the creature in the head with my shadow lash. The shield and several plates of armor erupt in the gray color of death, and slide to the side, covering their owner. The shadow lash does not cleave the warrior, but only leaves a rapidly crumbling gash in the armor and a dent in the shield.

My gut screamed, and I slid to my opponent's feet, rolling away from his move as he applied the jerk and literally slammed into the wall. I could only imagine what would have happened to me if I had been in his way. I tried to find a way to finish off my somewhat battered foe, but my instincts flared up again, causing me to avoid two arrows of ash at once. The second had to be taken on a shadow barrier because the dead mage was ahead of me.

Smart, bastard.

It's time to finish this game.

A volitional effort and the shadowy blade clips the wielder's legs, giving the nearly cornered Losius time to attack. The flaming blade of the sword went straight into the eye socket of a dead man who'd lost his helmet somewhere. I dodged two more arrows, managing this time to slip past the second, and clinched with the remaining dead man. He can't use his sword or shield me in this position. I'm too fast. Several attacks at once with a shadow-wrapped dagger, but by some miracle he manages to reinforce the right parts of his armor, partially repelling each blow. The only one hundred percent hit was in a section of armor that had already been pierced earlier.

The wound caused my opponent to wobble and fall to one knee, but I didn't have time to finish him off either, forcing him to cover Losius from the attack with another pair of arrows. A really smart one.

While I take on the shadow barriers (not very strong, but enough to destabilize the enemy's spells) the lich's attacks, it strikes the... The half-dead dead man with a lightning bolt of green-shimmering ash. After taking such a hit, not only does the warrior regenerate himself, but his armor gets repaired as well! He's also pretty quick - his current dash is a lot faster than his first one.

I rolled back and forth with the same sword that pierced the floor - my life reminded me more and more of Dark Souls - and noticed that the gray-green mist that filled the bones of the lich had faded and shrunk in volume. And there were fewer sparks.

I can sense some mass spells from the Lich again, but I have to parry a heavy blade strike with one dagger, wrapped in shadow. I dodge the thrust of the shield, and then this guy, quite unexpectedly, I confess, demonstrates his undead kung fu, almost smearing my skull with a kick.

A pleasant surprise, though, because I hit the leg twice, though not cutting it off, but reducing its mobility considerably. In the meantime, my instincts insist on paying attention to the Lich, which I do, leaving the wounded foe to the conscience of Hans and Losius. They're not kids, they'll hold out.

Thank Cthulhu that I was smart enough not to limit myself to just the sphere, but to activate the Gaze as well. It's much harder to fight in this mode, but the main thing I can see is the prepared scourge: the gray-black veins of the spell, stretching to the relatively intact resting bodies. He's going to raise them all now.

I throw in an attack, but throw another clump of shadows that jab into his defense, gradually squeezing through it, but too fucking slow! I can't make it in time, shit! Do I have to destroy every body now?

Body.

Nah.

Idiocy's incurable.

With almost no effort, I cast a wave of shadows across the stone floor, causing the threads of spells to crumble and crumble. Lich remains silent, but I physically feel a flash of stifling hatred. He doesn't keep his guard up, letting the shadows that surround him go straight to his bones. I realized that the man was busy, so I ran to save my teammates, who had already been almost crushed by the remaining enemy.

Damn, this wight, even when wounded, is more dangerous than both of his "colleagues" put together. He noticed my approach at the very last moment and even managed to start reacting, but the amplified blow of shadow and steel simply broke through the armor on his back and the bone box beneath him. The tip of the blade penetrated the inside of his body, pouring all the shadow accumulated on the blade right inside him. Even without cramping or thrashing, this machine of war simply falls like a tree.

I turn to the Lich, who has managed to send a real flood of death through the hand, literally vaporizing my shadows. Along with most of his hand, really. After giving me the kind of intelligent look that an SS veteran would give a synagogue, he abruptly drew a small bony wand from under the hem of his cloak (or is that a robe?) and pointed it at me.

My intuition flashed, and in the Gaze, I saw a thin purple vein of thread reaching out to me. I don't know how I do it, but I drag the thread to my shadow and toss the shadow itself to the ceiling. A whole stream of magic comes out of the wand, and the part of the ceiling where I had attached my decoy shadow is covered with some kind of mold. I got there just in time, though.

In a few long strides, almost leaps, I get close to the lich, who had thrown away his single-use rod, walk into his back, dodging a weak arrow in the process, plunge the blade of my dagger into his spine and release more shadows into the almost vanished fog around his bones. With a quiet, bone-crushing creak, the lich finally died, and his remains fell to the stone floor.

It was at that moment that the torch, hung in one of the holders on the wall, decided that its time was up and could be extinguished.

The hall was plunged into darkness.

"No, that's just fucked up. Hans, do you remember where you threw the torches?"

I had to look for the torches, with the help of Gaze and the orb, because our things were scattered in all the corners of the room. It was like a lifelong dream to go through a pile of dismembered corpses. I just love it, your mom and her mom too! At least the corpses are old and all the giblets, shit, and blood have long since decomposed to dust, otherwise, I would have definitely spat on everything and ordered to go in the dark.

Another flick of the flint, and the hall lit up again. I looked at the faces of the somewhat stunned comrades, where even the last stage of fatigue was interrupted by surprise and joy and realized that we had indeed survived.

I'm also cool as a freaking spacemarine!

How many undead were there, not the first level, but old, powerful undead, not to mention the last group that barely had enough, despite all my advantages? And I didn't just survive, I managed to cover those two, and I didn't spend more than half my reserves. That is if you don't count the fact that I hadn't fought at my full strength, to begin with. I was not, because if I hadn't, I would have covered the whole room in shadows and made a mixer, with the shadows as blades and the undead as whipped cream.

In short, I'm a good boy.

I could reward myself with a cookie and a pie. If only I weren't in the middle of a fucking underground necropolis, which, in turn, is deep in an uncharted forest where the kind of guys live that make pies only with human flesh.

"Look, Losius." I interrupt the somewhat uncomfortable silence. "Tell me, why the fuck did you put your hands on that barrette? Fuck, even a complete dickhead would know that a piece of jewelry lying around in a place like that is fucking suspicious!"

The pale swordsman, equally covered in dust and sweat, could only wave his hand as if in agreement with my arguments about his own dickheadedness.

"It was clearly not an easy piece of jewelry. I thought I saw my mother's favorite necklace." He hesitated a little as if in a hurry to justify himself. "It was lost with her when the caravan in which she was traveling home was robbed when I was still a child. My father had picked up all the connections and gotten himself into debt, but he ripped the throats out of all those involved. He sent out several of the King's Privy Guards, despite the steep price they charged him! They were all crushed, all slaughtered. But the necklace their leader had managed to drink, and even under torture could not remember where it was. My last memory... my gift to her. I'm sorry, but I wasn't thinking with my head, I just wasn't thinking."

Toward the end, his voice had gone completely silent, imbued with bitter hatred. The clairvoyance skill that dripped into my status told me that Lossius had never yet revealed his wounds and experiences to anyone he knew. Always keep your wounds to yourself so no one can take advantage of them - that's how he was taught and that's how he lived. The mere fact that he trusted me and Hans in this way speaks volumes. For in a different situation he would have preferred to answer to the rigors of the mercenary world (that is, to be killed for framing the whole group), but not to open an old wound to the public.

"Come on, fuck it. " Hans was even a bit embarrassed by this sudden display of emotion. "We all make mistakes, we all do. I probably wouldn't have been able to hold my hands either, so I think I'll fuckin' forget about it."

"I had already forgotten." I support Hans' initiative.

After clairvoyance had literally uncovered someone else's secret, exposing it to me, I could no longer treat the situation the same way I had a few minutes before. Even though I was planning on kicking the guy for his hands, I had to admit that if I'd been him, I might not have been able to help myself by reflexively grasping the decoy set up by someone else.

Our staff swordsman didn't start thanking us, being too tired for that. He just said two words quietly: "Thank you."

We sat in silence for several more hours, even extinguishing the torch so as not to burn it in vain. We took the only corner of the room that wasn't full of dismembered corpses and rested. I needed, at the very least, to recover my energy, too. After all, I'd spent a little more than half my reserve, and this was just the beginning.

So all three of us decided to take a little break and check our statuses at the same time. We had gained a lot of experience, including myself. I even got a couple of new titles, and not useless ones, which is nice.

Withstood: You stood alone, or in a very small squad, against an enemy outnumbering you in numbers and levels, bringing death to all life. We have no idea if you have brains or where they are located, but we give you a reward just in case. Bonus: +5 to Endurance and Dexterity.

It's not bad, because both stats are already up to my limit, so it's a nice gift. Especially in dexterity, which has now reached one hundred and five points, making me even faster.

Well, I'm not even mad at the System's mockery, I just put it in my memory, so I won't forget to pay for it with my ring. My hour for the bad humor will come, you can rest assured, gentlemen and comrades.

The second title was, I believe, given out of our three only to me, which is quite understandable in its very essence.

Watchful Mentor: It's hard to keep the line between helping wimps gain combat experience and not letting them die in the process. Not everyone has the patience and skill to do this, but you do. Bonus: +5 to Perception.

It seems that with this title I could easily be hired as a kind of "tutor" for the local rich kids. Not that I was going to claim the title, or go to work in it. Just a simple observation, nothing more. I'm a lot more excited about the points, honestly.

My accomplishments for the evening were rounded out by the two levels I had taken and my strength of fifty, which made my achievements quite comparable to a small feat. I didn't know whether to be happy about my rapid progress or to ask God to calm the maelstrom of my adventures a bit.

Okay, what kind of perk did they give me?

The strength characteristic has reached 50 points! Choose a perk!

- Active amplification (common; active);

- Increased load capacity (common);

Attention, the further growth rate of this characteristic is significantly reduced.

I'm as a church mouse here as it is, and I'm not going to carry loads in the future, so without a second thought, I choose a slightly less useless skill. Active amplification allowed me to temporarily increase my strength by a quarter, at the cost of an hour's debuff for fifty percent of the same strength. Practically useless, except that you can use it at least once.

But for me, this stat is not a specific one, so there is nothing that would be useful to me. They could have given me nothing at all, there would have been no consequences except my rage. If I were a warrior or some other strength-oriented class, then we'd be talking about different bonuses.

I'm basically happy with the results of my sudden battle. Especially since I had ten characteristic points, which allowed me to freely grind up my energy to a hundred and get the bonus I was owed for it. I'd rather share the points with dexterity as well, but since the latter already got a free five points, then...

I invest ten points into my magic reserve, bringing it up to a hundred and four points. Pretty good for level sixteen, isn't it?

The energy characteristic has reached 100! Choose a perk!

- Crystallization of magic (rare, active);

- Magic thickening (rare);

The choice was not very clear, but communication with the help still helped to determine the right option. Crystallization of magic, of course, was an active skill, and also very useful in the long run. The ability to spend some of my reserves, creating a kind of storage of power, was truly invaluable. The only thing that spoiled my impressions of the skill was the short lifespan of the crystals and the fact that I had no idea where to put them and what to use them for, other than accumulating them and hurling them around in combat like grenades.

So, after hesitating for a while, I chose the magic thickening, which was a development of the energy enhancement I had already chosen. Not only did it make my energy denser and stronger, allowing me to perform the same actions for less, but it also slightly increased my overall reserve. I was also bribed by the note that denser energy was harder to draw with all sorts of simple vampire and vampire spells. And the debuffs wouldn't work to their full potential, which was nice.

It's not a bad thing for the future.

"What do we do next?" Hans broke the silence. "Not starve to death here."

"The network of tunnels in these dungeons is very extensive. "I decide to share the information." I'm sure this isn't the only way to get out. A lot of the undead have already been put to rest, at least within my senses. There's a chance of finding a way out if only we go forward."

"Yes, put to rest," The pathfinder chuckled. "If someone told me that I was going to get an epic title someday in the company of two scumbags, I wouldn't even beat them. I'd just laugh at the stupid joke. I mean, you all saw that, right? There were ghouls and dead men and a goddamn lich! I don't know who the fuck you work for, Tin, and I don't want to know, but honestly, I always knew they recruited the toughest dudes around in the mystery corps and their counterparts, but I just realized today how tough! In fact, a bunch of your bitches are some real assholes, but you're the first fuckin' quiet one of theirs who acts like a human being."

In response to such a tirade, all I could do was stare so that they threatened to surpass anime standards! For fuck's sake, in the name of holy tits, what Secret Guards, what fucking Secret Corps. I wanted to ask what kind of henbane these guys were eating, but all I could get out was a whisper:

"Are you fucking crazy?"

"Come on, I've already forgotten everything, and anyway, let's get something to eat." My denials only seemed to convince the pathfinder that he was right in his dumbest version.

"I'm not from the Secret Guard!"

"Yeah, I get it, worries not. I'm silent as a grave, and when I get drunk, I don't talk, I just shut down. And Losius, he doesn't drink anything but wine, and you can hardly get drunk on it." He nods in agreement with his clearly concussed head.

"I don't give a fuck how or what you drink!" I'm starting to get a little freaked out by the idiocy of the situation.

No, if I had been seen as a Hero, it would have been a hundred times worse, but at least it wouldn't have hurt so much. But here I am considered some kind of shitty James Bond, not the great and terrible Hero. It's not so much disturbing, although I'm aware of the possible problems, as it really pisses me off. I don't look like a fucking secret agent at all, except for my stealth skills!

"Look, Tin, don't get mad, eh?" Losius, who had been silent up to that point, start talking. "Just think about it, okay? You've got some kind of half-magic class that focuses on stealth, killing, and some kind of weird magic, and it's at least an epic rank. Your second class is sensory, which automatically means you've taken level twenty-five. You've destroyed a full-fledged lich, two undead, and a whole bunch of older, stronger undead in front of us. That takes at least a level forty or so. Believe me, I don't know how or why you ended up here, but the very fact that you're messing with us instead of slaughtering us or just leaving us behind... and I'm truly sorry that I can only thank you in words. I don't want to pry into your secrets and I'm not going to demand answers, nor am I going to reveal to anyone what I already know. Let's just pretend that we don't understand and you believe us, okay?"

I don't say anything, just so I don't make a complete idiot of myself. Now even if I told them the truth, it would be seen as an attempt to deflect suspicion. Or not, I don't know.

Fuck that.

My intuition tells me that they really won't be yapping about me, even if by some miracle we manage to survive this dungeon and the path to civilization. So, let them f**** as they wish, but without me, I'm embarrassed.

"To hell with you! Let's really get something to eat and go look for a way out. I'm not going to die in these places. I've got so many more throats to open, so many more heads to tear open" I haven't lied one bit, by the way, because at the very least I still have to fight for a place in the sun in this crazy world, and at the very least I have to organize a revolution among the summoned Heroes, the Chosen Ones, and the rest of the jerks. And yes, I'm a jerk, too, since I'm in this situation. Why did I have to go to the office that day?

It was no pleasure to have lunch (or dinner, time was a problem there) in a hall full of dried-up corpses. There was no stench of decomposition, of course, but the smell of old dust, ashes, and dungeons was rather annoying and prevented us from enjoying either our meal nor our rest. After another hour and a half, we walked together in the direction of the corridor from which the undead had come.

We would have moved faster, but my greed forced me to gather the most valuable reagents we had. As it turned out, the undead is not only concentrated hatred, but they're also some very magic-infused ingredients. I would try to do something with them in the camp because I'd been pretty slacking off on my alchemy class lately, which seemed pretty stupid at the moment.

The bones separately, the ashes separately, the gem from the tip of the wand of a half-lich (I do not believe that it was a normal and full-fledged dead mage) also in a separate pocket. Then I belted myself up, dug my second dagger out from under the melted bodies, shook off my hands after the digging, and finally set off.

Do you know what I expected when I stepped into the depths of the necropolis?

Crowds of undead at every turn, constant danger, deadly magical traps every two steps, mighty lichs sending their undead armadas at us, and all that. The expectations were not met, which I was unspeakably happy about. The dungeon was desolate, dusty, quiet, musty, and wet.

We walked in silence for the first few dozen minutes, shuddering at every rustle and sound of water droplets. The dampness was increasing, indicating the presence of nearby underground water currents, but we kept walking and walking. The main problem was that the sphere could not work properly in the darkness and with the emanations of death and ashes. No, somehow, even in total darkness, I could feel in my perception a lot of things. At least all sorts of voids and tunnels, which made for a pretty good 3D map. But the farther away I got, the weaker my perception, so the usual one thousand six hundred meters (you get used to a good thing fast) turned into barely a hundred meters of confident identification of small details, and three hundred meters of some kind of visibility.

It was not at once that I noticed the first undead since the battle at the entrance: everything in the place was reeking of death, and it was easy to mistake the bodies lying peacefully here for ordinary stones. It was only when I got closer that I realized that these stones were too humanoid in shape.

"Three dead men, just around the corner, just lying still, but still functioning," I whispered a warning to my comrades, encouraging them at the same time. "You can do it, don't worry."

We looked at each other silently, all of us taking weapons in our hands. We hadn't spoken much since we'd come out, more with gestures and nods. It's just that, to be honest, I don't feel comfortable making noise in this amusement park. Clowns are too aggressive, I guess.

Everything went like clockwork. Two of the warriors sliced through the enemies that were just coming up. I did not interfere myself, not out of generosity or desire to share experience, but out of a simple understanding that in these tunnels there is still a lot of EXP.

After just a few minutes, the first trap was encountered. Simple mechanics of pushing a tile and collapsing a piece of the ceiling. The fun part is that the mechanism (very old and decrepit) has been taken care of. This suggests that the owner of these crypts is a lot smarter than the lich I killed. Well, or maybe it was just a well-crafted dead sorcerer, as I'm becoming increasingly convinced.

I damaged the trap mechanism with a shadow. I moved on, not paying much attention to the system message that flashed up, revealing my disarming trap skill. It was like I'd overworked myself so much.

The skill began to gain numerical value quickly, because the traps, as well as individual blocks of the undead, came across more and more often. I either dealt with the undead myself (if they were strong or needed to do everything quietly) or left them at the mercy of Locij and Hans. I've been disarming mechanical traps with shadows, especially in close proximity, but it wasn't hard to feel the empties and mechanisms with shadows. I tried to avoid the few magical traps, or to create a false activation. Once we were all nearly strangled when a flare of fire scorched the air supply in a section of the corridor. Good thing the room wasn't so enclosed that fresh oxygen didn't kick in. I'd never breathed the decay and stuffiness with such relish.

When disarming jumped to the journeymen level, I started working with the traps more thoroughly, trying to deactivate them, or even to loot something. A couple of small energy crystals (and they're long-lived, not rapidly decaying) would hardly be useful, but as trophies, they're quite valuable, according to Hans.

Also, we were running out of torch materials, so we'll soon have to cut up our clothes and try to make alchemical rubber. Otherwise, we'll be grinding dark vision, which is uninspiring.

We met a wight in the company of two ghosts, walking along the corridor with a lot of enthusiasm. Twenty-sixth level of the undead warrior and twenty-second level of ghosts. It was a pretty nasty bunch since the ghosts were sensing, if not me and Hans, then the unstealthy Losius. I had to intervene sharply and cover both ghosts with a thick shroud of shadows, applying Silence in the Hall for the first time. The title's gift worked, sucking up some of my reserves, but suppressing the screams of the evil ghosts and the sounds of my fight with a dead creature.

He was a big orc when he was alive, but he'd gained a magical sense after his death. He reacted to my attack even though it was completely silent. The shadow ribbon crumbled at the touch of his breastplate, and the massive rust-covered ax would have broken the floor and brought down the ceiling if I hadn't intercepted it at the crossed daggers and the shadows covering them. The second attack came with a seven-tailed whip of force-fueled shadows, blasting part of his skull and his left arm. Even that didn't finish off the goat, which was about to use a skill, a dash perhaps. He was prevented by Hans, who jammed his silver-plated dagger into the rest of the skull. He didn't finish it, and barely got away himself, but he gave Losius time to cut the leg, and me to finish it off with a blow to the articulation of his surprisingly sturdy armor.

I used the same method I had tried on the lich - releasing shadow energy into the wound, literally burning out the magic that kept the undead alive.

The ghosts were completely destroyed by the shroud of shadows by then. I suppose if I'd given them time to get away from the first attack, they would have been pestering us with their nonmaterial limbs through the walls, ceiling, and floor, calling for reinforcements with their screams. It's a good thing these things are vulnerable to even ordinary magic, let alone my shadows.

Hans almost cried like a baby, leaving untouched the trophy breastplate and shields, which turned out to be an artifact of a rare grade with the property of indestructibility and resistance to magical effects. Alas, the sheer weight of this design killed any desire to have fun with it, as did the wild strength requirements to wear it.

There were two, or rather one and a half torches left, and I started raking through my alchemy supplies, trying to make some kind of combustible shit. I got six varieties of poison, one of which was an unusual grade, some powder for attracting the undead, which I disintegrated with a shadow as a precaution, a buff that gave me a couple of percent to all my abilities for a few hours, which I drank immediately, and, attention, a rare grade of potency enhancer made from the claws of a pedobear.

Sincerely, but silently, I wished the System and its admins to eat nothing but instant soup, adding a couple more uses of my mythical ring to their debt.

Twice I nearly burned my fingers, but finally, I got what I wanted, along with a splitting headache, by mixing ground nuts from some cone, pine needles, and a clover-like herb. Thank God I had the good sense to go into stealth before I began my experiments, or my companions would have had more questions. It's not often that alchemists here make potions out of shit and sticks. I hadn't tried to convince them that I was only using my herbalism skills and elementary recipes that didn't require much of an alchemist's class.

I was also very pleased with the message that popped up before my eyes.

Creating a compound: 2/5

Allows you to create relatively complex alchemical compounds from available reagents by instinctively understanding the creation process; allows you to more precisely regulate the desired result and vaguely understand what case a particular reagent is suitable for.

With a good start or what..?

The headache quickly receded, and the mood became, in every sense, awesome. I should have practiced this skill more often. But no. The mere use, even if frequent and exhausting, did not develop this ability. Rather, it was the fact that I had really taken an imaginative approach to the training, trying not to act at random, but to determine for myself what I needed to get.

When I get some new reagents, I'll have to see what I can create now.

Hans's spare footcloth went to the torches, which, in my humble opinion, turned the torch into a quite effective chemical weapon. If the smoke hadn't smelled like the pleasant smell of pine, it would have been much sadder.

We met a few more dead men, a couple of traps, including one very tricky one, which even in the close-up was noticed solely due to my gut, which made me turn on my Gaze. The thinnest thread, resembling a spider's web, was a signal for something. I couldn't figure out what it activated, but just in case, I turned around and led the group through another tunnel.

We stopped for the night in a dead-end hall that I had checked three times, where we made a small, rather symbolic fire out of the junk I had collected. There were several ventilation slots, so we weren't afraid of getting burnt, but we wanted to sit by the fire, at least a bit.

We told a couple of jokes, and I retold the story of Lieutenant Rzhevsky in a local way. We laughed, and, as I realized, jokes about this character had already become an old joke even in this world. Did the other isekai do their best? I should ask, but I don't have the energy to do it anymore, this day is too exhausting for me.

A typical story of Lieutenant Rzhevsky.

"Yesterday I saved a woman from being raped...

"Oh, interesting, Lieutenant, tell us!"

"Ah, I just convinced her."

* * *

Natasha Rostova: "Rzhevsky, from now on treat people the way you would like people to treat you..."

Rzhevsky: "So, Natasha, should I suck everyone's dick now?"

No matter how much I'd like to get a good night's sleep, I still use my talent as a sleepwalker, reducing sleep to a minimum. The reserve is a little less than half full, so if anything happens, I won't be totally incapacitated.

I fell asleep with my favorite daggers and a goblin knife under my arms so that I could easily grab it at any moment, but I decided to read before going to bed, whispering the most cherished word for a trapped in this world: "Status."

Name: Konstantine

Race: Human

Level: 16

Titles: Hero; Silent Assassin; Night Master, Thunderstruck; The Legend Seer; The Legend Killer; Withstood; Sighted Mentor:

Characteristics Points: 0

Class Points: 7

Characteristics (standard):

Strength: 56

Dexterity: 105

Endurance: 65

Perception: 76

Concentration: 58

Energy: 104

Characteristics (class):

Shadow: 39

Dreams: 1

Inspiration: 7

Class: Lord of Shadows

Rank: 2

Basic characteristics: shadows, dexterity, perception.

Abilities:

Shadow Control: 5/5

Allows you to masterfully control shadows in your field of vision, giving them full physical embodiment; shadows can freely take solid form and are suitable for creating obstacles and barriers; the range, speed, control, and stretching of shadows is greatly increased; shadow density is greatly increased; shadows can inflict energy damage and impose effects that reduce target characteristics; wounds from shadows are worse; with maximum tension and concentration of the shadow on a certain area, you can turn the shadow into a door to another plane; increases the Shadow's characteristic by +5.

Shadow Sense: 5/5

Allows you to sense all shadows within a large radius; allows you to clearly sense shadow movement and affiliation; allows you to control shadows freely even outside your direct line of sight; allows you to sense invisible persons touching shadows; allows you to see and hear through shadows; shadows within your perception zone are easier to submit to your will; shadows can point out targets you highlight or dangerous to you; if you wish, you can hear voices of shadow inhabitants distantly and vaguely; increases the Shadow characteristic by +5; increases the perception characteristic by +5.

Steps of the shadows: 1/7

Allows, with time and effort, to step into one shadow and out of another by walking on the edge of the shadow plan; the step distance is short, but the time, effort and concentration are considerable; of little use in combat.

Stealing of the shadow: 0/7

Summon of the shadow: 0/7

[undisclosed]

Bonuses:

Shadowborn: stealth skills grow five times faster; in case of danger, shadows will shelter you as their brethren.

Dexterous: Dexterity grows faster.

Shadow Seer: Allows you to apply a special type of vision that allows you to superimpose the shadow plan on reality; allows you to see through disguises, obscurations, and illusions; the power of the gaze depends on characteristics and class ability development.

Blood of Shadows: Other blood flows in your veins, giving you a piece of its power; increases the characteristic of Shadow by +5, makes it easier to communicate and negotiate with the inhabitants of Shadow.

[undisclosed]

Class: Master of Dreams and Reflections

Rank: 1

Basic characteristics: dreams, concentration, perception

Abilities:

Create a dream: 1/5

Allows you to control the dream you are in, with limited influence on the passage of time.

Send a dream: 0/5

[undisclosed]

Bonuses:

Dreamer: social and magic skills associated with the class grow five times faster; no one has power over your dreams but yourself.

Undeterred: the concentration grows faster.

[undisclosed]

Class: Mystic Alchemist

Rank: 1

Basic characteristics: inspiration, perception, energy

Abilities:

Creating a compound: 2/5

Allows you to create relatively complex alchemical compounds from available reagents by instinctively understanding the creation process; allows you to more precisely regulate the desired result and vaguely understand what case a particular reagent is suitable for.

Reagent breakdown: 0/5

[undisclosed]

Bonuses:

Understanding of the essence: the ability to see and, with reservations, understand magic in things and reagents; all craft skills related to alchemy grow five times faster.

Attentive: perception grows faster.

[undisclosed]

Special:

Limit of Excellence (from the title ‘Hero’): raises the maximum limit of natural characteristic growth to 50 (Now: 60), accelerates trainability and increases the amount of experience gained.

Hero's Will: Thought-affecting skills ranked below your class have no effect.

Hero's Gaze: allows you to see a certain amount of information about others; depending on your level.

Mythic: Limit of characteristic development raised by 10 (Now: 60), allows you to choose three classes at once.

Silence in the hall (rare; from the title ‘Silent Assassin’): active skill that completely mutes sounds in a small area. Duration and area of effect depend on user’s level and energy value.

Night Master (rare): You have, voluntarily or involuntarily, met the standard for the title of a professional assassin. Proving that you have this title will get you a job in any shadow guild. If you don't get slaughtered just in case. Effect: +5 to dexterity; +2 to all characteristics except class.

Improved coordination (common): improves coordination and fine motor skills.

Improved hearing (common): Improves hearing, allows you to distinguish previously inaudible whispers and rustles, makes it easier to distinguish the sources of sounds and identify them.

Increase energy quality (common): makes your energy more saturated and denser, thus increasing the power of your charms and reducing the cost of creation.

Thunderstruck (rare): You received a charge of many millions of volts on your head, but managed to survive such a gift. You have to be pretty stupid to be struck by lightning, but you also have endurance. Effect: +5 endurance.

The Legend Seer: The Skin-Taker, or, as the local tribes call him, Sa'Shai Garhmnul, very rarely shows his face, and even more rarely leaves those who see him alive. In any case, you were among those who survived the encounter. Luck or stupidity, we can't let something like that go unrewarded. Bonus: +5 to all stats except class stats.

The Legend Killer: To become a Legend, the Skin Taker lived a long life and shattered countless lives of strangers. But all his power didn't help him when he met you. Luck and stupidity, we'll say, but we'll give you a reward nonetheless. After all, it's not every day someone proves that even Legends sometimes die. Bonus (halved): +5 to all characteristics except class, +1 free ability point.

Bone strengthening (common): makes bones stronger and more resistant, allowing you to better tolerate stress.

Combat Concentration (common): makes it easier to stay focused on something during combat or other active actions; pain and injury have a reduced chance of interrupting caste.

Perfect Coordination (common): gives perfect coordination and fine motor skills; allows full control over your body; slightly reduces the effects of stun and trauma; makes it harder to use lie detection and cold-reading skills on you

Withstood: You stood alone, or in a very small squad, against an enemy outnumbering you in numbers and levels, bringing death to all life. We have no idea if you have brains or where they are located, but we give you a reward just in case. Bonus: +5 to Endurance and Dexterity.

Sighted Mentor: It's hard to keep the line between helping wimps gain combat experience and not letting them die in the process. Not everyone has the patience and skill to do this, but you do. Bonus: +5 to Perception.

Active enhancement (common): allows you to increase your strength by a quarter once every three hours, for forty minutes (depends on magic stats), after which it rolls back, reducing your strength by half, for an hour.

Magic thickening (rare): increases the effect of spells and slightly increases the reserve; significantly reduces the cost of creating spells and increases protection against negative magical effects and curses.

Skills:

Provocation: 5 (apprentice)

Running: 12 (journeyman)

Stealth: 49 (master)

Swimming: 5 (apprentice)

Alchemy: 36 (master)

Herbalism: 27 (journeyman)

Gathering: 8 ( apprentice)

Fishing: 14 (journeyman)

Spear Mastery: 3 (apprentice)

Infiltration: 25 (journeyman)

Danger sense: 43 (master)

Deathstroke: 36 (master)

Dagger Mastery: 49 (master)

Hand-to-hand combat: 13 (journeyman)

Energy Flow Management: 31 (journeyman)

Two-Handed Combat: 17 (journeyman)

Throwing Weapon: 8 (apprentice)

Clairvoyance: 10 (journeyman)

Disarming traps: 13 (journeyman)

* * *