Chapter 16

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Whether these guys were embarrassed or not, but the only owner of boobs in this company turned out to have a sharp tongue, so she answered quite well, not impressed by my claims.

"Boy, with a high probability, it was me who fucked your grandmother." And right after the witticism was thrown in, she got down to business. "Who you are, what you want, and who you work for. Keep in mind, we have nothing to lose, and you're going down anyway, even if we're next."

So she didn't believe me, considering my words to be either a bad joke or a mockery and a brazen lie. From her point of view, that was reasonable-it was easier to believe in someone else's cunning plan than in a chance encounter with someone who could swaddle such a beautiful, thirty-second-level woman.

"You're such a lecher, though." I nodded trustingly, trying not to think about her possible age. "Now do me a favor - get out of my way, preferably so that I never have to see you again."

The suspicion in her gaze soared above the clouds, and the remaining couple, the twenty-eighth-level bodyguard, and the ninth-level kid began to look even more distrustful than before.

"You want me to believe that you were just eating pies here?" She was just as skeptical, and she missed my remark altogether. "Do you really expect me to buy that nonsense?"

"I wish you weren't here, and I hope the same." And then I can't take it anymore, so I get another pie. "Don't be stupid, you have elven blood, not ogre blood... or ogrish, what's the right word?"

"The blood of ogres." The old bodyguard interrupts the arguing. "It is correct to say "The blood of ogres". And I believe in this situation. However, I understand my comrade-in-arms very well, and I don't want to leave my back open at all. Especially since all you have to do is scream. In a way, we are in a stalemate situation, with no other options. We can't leave, and we can't let you go."

What a friendly grandfather, though! He's just kindness itself if it weren't for the needles in his dry, thin fingers, and the obvious tension every time I take a bite out of a pie. Waiting for me to relax, the bastard! Not that his suspicions were unfounded, but I know that the whole situation is nonsense, as well as their versions of my magnificent personality. I should also add that he conveniently "failed to mention" the fact that I don't care about the loss of time, but they can't afford delays. However, they might have jumped on me, just out of desperation.

I should have walked away, even through the same shadow step, but I don't want to... I don't want to admit defeat in this idiotic situation. In second place is the reluctance to shine a light on my abilities, even if only a part of them. I can leave at any time, but at the same time, I cannot leave. Some kind of crazy anecdote, not a life situation!

"So what's next? I don't give a fuck, though. You're protecting this little thing, aren't you?" In response to my words, the grandfather became tense and wary, the girl flashed anger and a clear intention to stab me with a knife, and the young man himself shouted indignantly.

"I'm not... not a trifle! My name is Sigismund of the House of Lanmmmmm..." He didn't have time to finish, for the grandfather's abrupt movement gagged him. It was primarily because of loudness, not for the sake of incognito. I have a suspicion that the names of the trio have long been known to all concerned. I just hope that his last name isn't Lannister, or I might get stabbed while I'm laughing.

"Come on, kid, don't be so uncomfortable about your height." I can't help but joke. "They say all short people grow big dicks. It'll compensate."

After that, the boy, already red as a freshly boiled crawfish, nearly took off on a butt jet. The only thing he had to do was to roll his eyes and shake his head and mumble angrily, and he couldn't get out of the butler's grip. How was I supposed to hold on to my green nature after that?

"What, you got a tiny dick, too? Yes, then I'm sorry, trifle. Sometimes in life, you are unlucky on two things at once, but maybe you'll be lucky on something else." I was on fire. "Suddenly your, I don't know, nose hair will start growing and curling in curls."

My goodness, that's hilarious! It's been a long time since I've seen such sincere and uncontaminated butt hurt. It feels like this young f*cker is about to explode, or at least learn to throw lightning bolts with his eyes.

"That's enough." The lady answers again. "We are leaving."

And she looks at me with such a keen eye. Come on, bitch, show us your true face, and we'll kill you a little bit. Quickly, professionally, and very painfully.

"Glory to the boobs!" Gladly affirm. "Get the fuck out of here and don't give me a hard time!"

All kidding aside, I'm beginning to lose patience with this murky company. I'm playing the mystery man. But they are quite dangerous. Not enough to fear them in direct combat, but if I relax and don't react in time, it could end badly. My intuition is very unpleasant about them, nervously tingling my body with needles. Don't relax, Kostya, or you'll be in pain.

Besides, there's another group coming up behind us right now, maybe even the same group that the three had escaped from a minute earlier. And if they are going to fuss here, they will be caught, which will end very unpleasantly not only for them but also for me. After all, then two groups of probable adversaries would know of my existence.

"Okay." She nods her head after a long ten seconds of thought. "We retreat."

"It's too late," I said sadly, causing their bloodlust to become quite palpable. "You should have thought of that before, but now you have guests here to wish you good health."

And the bastards were so lucky that even I missed their abrupt approach, despite the shadow sphere. The only thing that saved my ego was that these guys weren't going to attack me specifically, which was why my gut was silent. And clairvoyance, unfortunately for me, does not always work.

The fighters who stepped out from under the illusion weren't dressed as guards at all, giving the impression of being more suited to a commando squad than to a regular sentinel. High levels, up to thirty-four for their leader and twenty-five as the lowest. Twelve men, three of whom were mages, judging by their clothing.

I activate my Gaze involuntarily and rate their gear as pretty good, and even better on the mages and the leader. And my clairvoyance, which finally worked (very fucking well-timed!), told me that the big bosses had mistaken me for some local hobo, who was being questioned by these guys about the road through the alleys.

I have no idea what their leader was thinking, or how he missed the fact that I was being held at the crosshairs by both of the trio's combat-ready members at once. But one of the mages and two simple guards judged the situation correctly, listing me as a possible threat.

"Get out, peasant." Such a phrase is unpleasant in itself, especially when said to you. Especially when you realize that even if this moron sent you, those who remembered and marked you clearly wrote in an imaginary notebook your signs. Especially if you didn't originally intend to get into any adventures at all.

I would have taken it and quietly walked away, especially when you consider that from the poser's side, such a "get out" proposal does look even somewhat chivalrous. Still, he let me run away, instead of starting a fight right next to a civilian. Or he didn't remove the witness at all.

Except that the bastard didn't stop at one phrase, sending some kind of force wave in my direction, which is some kind of skill. It was not fatal, but it was guaranteed to be painful and traumatic for the average person. And to hell with the wave, it wasn't hard to dodge. The problem was that the irreparable had happened.

I turn my gaze to where my pies were a second ago, stumbling only to find scraps of bread and blood-red cherry filling scattered all over the alley.

I realize that I am making probably the worst mistake of my new life, which could lead me to my grave, but a wave of all-consuming rage, multiplied by the realization that I am the only one to blame for this situation, literally blows my mind.

I look again at the aristocrat, who has adjusted, shifting his focus from the trio huddled in the corner to the uncharacteristic dexterity of an ordinary city dweller.

On pies.

On the moron.

On pies.

On the fucking moron.

On pies.

On the fucking I'll kill you, shitty moron.

Back to the pie.

"Fuck you, you fucking bastard! You fucking spawn of sheep and incest, why the fuck don't you just let me eat! First, it's the fucking morons who are all fucked up, and now it's you! Fuck off, all of you! You shouldn't have touched the fucking pies! Do you know where the fuck I've been and what I've been eating lately? Bitch! First time I've ever bought a fucking pie and the whole world is turning on me! Is this some kind of fucking conspiracy or something?"

You know, subconsciously I expected my tirade to provoke, if not awe, at least anger at my words from the newcomers. You know, when an arrogant, self-righteous villain gets a verbal rebuke from a cunning hero, then goes into a rage, yells at everyone, foams at the mouth, and chews on his own rug.

Well.

This noble asshole was an aristocrat to the core. A thoroughbred fucking nobleman! In response to my inadequacy, he showed no emotion at all, as if he had not heard my tirade at all, but simply stared at us all with the indifferent and calm gaze of a professional butcher, and then did not even speak, silently giving the order to attack with some gesture.

The mages attacked synchronously, flooding the alley with fire and lightning at the same time, and attacking with a broad front. My gut told me that I would survive such an attack, though I wouldn't be able to fight. Well, the goal was different, to make me hesitate, to defend myself, to hide, to give the others time to get closer.

The shadows, of course, were destabilized by the overly bright light, but I could still easily make out how the whole horde applied skills in sync, shrinking the distance instantly. Some used the standard dash, some even blinked in short teleportation, but the important thing was that a second later we'd all be pelted with sharp steel, especially me. If we hadn't been incinerated by the mage attack in the first place.

Well, and if I had stayed still, right under the impact.

I was in the Shadow almost as a reflex, which, on the one hand, was a good thing, but on the other hand, it was a very unreliable place. But the important thing is that no fire or lightning existed in The Shadow. The only result of the attack was that the too bright light and the wave of pure energy made the other reality shake and wobble. It was as if too much brightness was making this plane of being too painful. And it also made me feel an involuntary rage and a desire to extinguish that light, along with the lives of the foul lighters.

Now I am partially a resident myself, which makes me dislike light, fire, and anything living around me. The body becomes translucent and ghostly at the same time, and my dexterity stat is accelerated even more by being in this state.

I literally slipped between the enemies attacking me and the damn trio of runners, glided over the ground itself, finding myself behind the backs of the mages ready for another attack, and then fell back out into the real world. My daggers are already clutched tightly in my hands, [censored] with shadows, and I can barely contain the urge to just create a shadow mixer in the alley.

You can't display shadow manipulation, Kostik, no way! The steps don't look obvious at all, neither do the daggers, but a direct attack with shadow manipulation would be too obvious. So we work the old-fashioned way, with knives and hands.

I accelerate my body to the maximum, using my dexterity as best I can, striking at such speed that I can feel the friction burning my skin. Six blows to the back of each of the three mages in two and a half seconds, spattering blood from the punctured ribcages.

There is no doubt - there is me and there is an enemy. And someone will be dead today. All emotions were frozen out by being in the Shadow and the clear understanding that no one would let me go alive. Perhaps if I had decided to escape at the very beginning, when my pies were just being destroyed, or, better yet, during the conversation with the trio... Then things would have gone differently.

But not now. No after these actions. Now all that remained was to go all the way to the end, leaving no living witnesses who had seen my face and knew of my existence. My intuition and my psychic sense were screaming at me that these guys must not tell anyone anything, or I would fall into the field of vision of such forces that I was not yet ready to confront.

Good boy, Kostik! Well done!

That was good trolling, burn out a lot. Now do yourself a favor and make an equally excellent massacre, cleaning up the mess, and don't you dare say that it's all their fault. You brought your the problems, and their death, only you.

I force myself to silence my suddenly awakened conscience, for which this is not a good time and then return my attention to the ongoing battle.

All three mages-fire, air, and illusion-died instantly, before I even had time to attack. The undeniable advantage of sheer speed over the most destructive spells!

Their bodies had not yet fallen to the ground, and I was already rushing forward, stepping into the back of the leader, who still hadn't paid for my pies. But instead of a quick frag, I got a sharp swipe of the sword that nearly cut off my head. He had already turned his face toward me, which showed genuine surprise and, perhaps, apprehension. But no more, for he is now crystal calm and collected.

Only now I can distinguish above his head not only the level but also the class, the Bretteur. Almost a colleague of Losius's, only with a slightly different bias. In addition, such classes always have high dexterity, so he is not inferior to me in speed. He's been grinding one main stat, not three at once!

A whole series of blows, flowing from one to the other as they threatened to open my delicate throat, ended in nothing. My high dagger skills allow me to parry the most dangerous attacks, and to dodge the rest of them, which I have room to retreat to. But two things happen at once: I step my foot into a wide shadow, and my opponent applies two aces at once.

First, his blade glowed a vile green color, which was analogous to a similar skill that Losius possessed, and then he splits into two additional translucent copies. And these ghosts can deal quite tangible blows, as reminded by the sense of danger. I couldn't read anything on his face again, but I'm sure he's already buried me, just bringing his attack to its logical conclusion.

I dived silently into the Shadow, leaking my changed body past even the now-dangerous stab of the green-covered blade. Not lethal, but still dangerous, even for Shadows. In contrast, I don't care about the attacks of the ghostly replicas, for they leave behind only an unpleasant feeling of eaten away reserve, as if I had leaked through ordinary steel.

I was about to strike with my shadow-soaked dagger, piercing the side of the enchanted chainmail, but the creep must have sensed something. I'm not the only one with a sense of danger, am I? The automatically working Gaze sees the body of the enemy as if covered by a tape, and the ghostly silhouette of the bretteur appears (deceptively slowly as for my perception) to my left, about a meter and a half away.

I anticipate the result of the skill and shift, attacking the silhouette. I fell back to reality and stabbed my dagger into the void, but struck just as the enemy's short teleport skill kicked in. The blink ended up with a punctured liver and full of shadow insides, killing him instantly. He probably didn't even have time to be surprised, going to the other world with an indifferent and focused expression.

And I was already moving forward, stabbing at the backs of those too distracted to guard a neurotic child. Actually, I had to admit that if such a mob attacked me, it would kill me for sure. If I hadn't used shadows. They worked too smoothly and professionally, not interfering with each other and constantly changing tactics and the manner of fighting, alternating active abilities with simple blows. The high stats would not have helped me. And even with the use of shadows, the only option with a hundred percent guarantee of victory was to cover everyone present with an area attack, because in a more careful fight there was always a chance for a mistake.

Tro was saved only by a small miracle manifested by the little f*cker, who activated some artifact in the form of a gold pendant that glowed an unbearably blue color in Gaze. This thing didn't create a shield, but rather a slowing field. A sort of invisible wall where everything slowed down by a factor of three. It was the thing that blocked their spells, and it was only through its effect that they were able to hold up under the attacks of the gradual dismantling and depleting defense professionals.

Since there are more attackers, I don't shy away from stabbing them in the back, literally opening up the first two like tin cans. They're all armed with short blades and wearing light armor, so there's nothing to counter my blows. Yes, this approach provides speed and agility, but it also reduces survivability.

The only thing that would have saved them in a fight with me was greater speed, but they just didn't have it. It ended quickly and bloodily - I attacked from behind, and the lady and butler took advantage of the distraction, stepping through their barrier and attacking. There were a couple of dangerous moments, one of which left a long cut on my new clothes that only miraculously didn't touch my skin, but it was already a suicidal gesture of desperation. If they hadn't wasted their skills early in the fight, they might have retreated, but in their current state, they had no choice but to die.

The [censored] bitch stabbed the penultimate fighter, a mustachioed, solid-looking man in his forties, through the neck with her dagger, and the last foe took advantage of the rollback and darted away with his back forward, only to run into both my daggers with his back. Shadow steps are still faster than a normal dash, even a very well-powered one.

And that left four of us.

Me and three of them.

We stand looking at each other.

I also feel their fear. Fear for the underage moron, who, however, does not try to escape, but stares at me, keeping his pale and bloodless hand on his pendant. This thing seems to be sucking the very life out of him. And the little bastard doesn't let go! Nor does he pay attention to the dozens of bodies lying in the alley.

Okay - I admit it. This kid may have some balls, despite his easily ignited butt. Compared to most of the youngsters on my home earth, that's not so bad. Except it's time for me to make a decision.

Now I can kill them pretty easily. One shadowy blade to the small one, and then in a couple of heartbeats kill the exhausted guards. They've used their skills and drained their energy reserves to the bone. I could feel that they didn't have any power left in them. And they're no match for me on raw stats. I saw something flash across my face, and they shifted a little, closing in on the little guy even more. They did not, however, ask for mercy.

And what I should do now?

In theory, we should bring this fight to its logical conclusion by putting the three of them to rest. But for some reason, the bastards wouldn't attack me. If they'd have struck first, then yes, but now it's kind of... not fair, is it? I've already done enough damage, and now I have to kill them. I can physically feel how my heroic title keeps me from falling into a panic and throwing up my pies at the sight of the resulting massacre. I'm sure that same heroic title will keep me from worrying too much about these guys' deaths. All I can do is multiply and multiply the bodies, just because I try to do some trolling instead of getting the hell out of here as soon as I was in danger.

Why the fuck do I always want to have adventures? Which, I should point out, always ends up not at all the way I originally wanted it to. Some kind of goddamn curse, boy scout's honest word!

Fuck, I just want some pies.

In response to my philosophically profound thought, all three future corpses turned their concentrated gazes on me. And, judging by the quantity and quality of their pursuers, even without my assistance they would still be corpses, without any alternatives. Several patrols of guards are already running toward the noise, and the fugitives will not be able to fend them off. Except to leave a barrier of themselves, sending the boy alone. But it's unlikely that this reckless wonder can even get out of the city on his own, let alone survive.

"What do you want?" Finally asks the woman, and she does not believe in the success of the negotiations. "Only this time seriously, there is no time. We have gold and some valuable amulets. We can give it to you, just let the young one go. Let him go."

"What do I want?" They piss me off because they don't want to believe my words. "Power over the world and my dead pies back. Get out of here, you morons."

She hesitates for a second, but then she gets it. Her face twists in a strange grimace, and even her fighting stance is disrupted, which, by the way, is a sign of great fatigue.

"So, you mean... you're really here by accident?"

"Thank the gods you did get it, albeit quite late!" I'm starting to freak out again. "Stupid bimbo! You couldn't get it right away, could you? You know, the times I fucking told you the same thing over and over again!? Or do you have to add a bunch of corpses to get it all figured out? Without it, your brain doesn't turn on?"

And my lamentations just go right through her ears. It flies in one ear and out the other. Even now, when she believes me, she is diligently letting my curses pass her ears. Well, she's not a hysterical boy, she's an experienced bitch, she's not going to be hurt by a simple swear word. I realized there was no point in trolling her yet, so I calmed down and turned my gaze back to the entrance to the alley.

"By the way, we have guests coming over. So I'll probably get out of this party." Then I calmly turn around and hide in the opposite direction from the incoming guys.

And these bastards are following me, and I'm sure it's not for the purpose of pursuit, just that the grandfather also has some sort of sensory skill that allows him to determine where the enemy is congregating. I can see why the already-dead team of hunters would use a mage with the illusionist class. They also gave him some kind of reinforcing gimmick, for sure.

I sharply went into stealth, making the old man shudder and lose his step, and at the same time signaling my mysterious disappearance to the companion with a couple of gestures. She only tensed, even more, dragging the generally inadequate boy on her shoulder. It looked like using that pendant had had some pretty serious consequences for him.

I didn't follow them on purpose, but just by my perception radius, I didn't lose track of the retreating group, though we left by different routes. Whatever the old guard was using, its range was incomparable to mine, and a couple of times it was a miracle they avoided the brutal guards.

Or they just get lucky.

Smart people think alike, as do fools, though. It's a shitty tendency because these idiots chose to hide out in roughly the same place as I did. That's me talking about the empty roof of one of the buildings in the Craftsman Quarter. Only if I chose a place that was inhabited by simply occupying an empty room, these guys choose an originally empty house, which they broke into. Well, there were three of them at once, and one of them was unportable.

Now, sitting in a small closet about a kilometer away from my fellow escapees and watching the guards diligently, but as inconspicuously as possible, pulling together the forces gradually surrounding these kids, I have a strange feeling that something has to be done.

Since I was so stubborn about erasing all mention of myself, and since I decided to spare these degenerates, I shouldn't even think about getting these guys in the clutches of the interrogators. If before I just happened to get caught by the local secret service, which could have caused some problems, now I have their corpses on my hands. And those three are the main witnesses.

It's a good idea to really kill them before it's too late.

But then why the fuck would I let them live? So I'd have to act differently, and I'd have to make these guys pay for the dough I'd made them pay for saving their lives. And if they don't want to pay, preferring instead to betray or kill a naive young man like me, I'll kill them, but this time with a clear conscience. And dreamwalking will help me in this matter, so that I may know exactly what their plans and intentions are for me.

And this [censored] lady with elven blood would be a good enough trophy for my ring. My double standards and trademark hypocrisy would not object to that. In any case, it would either be gold as payment, or a new girl who, unlike Ygra, could be fucked with a clear conscience, without putting a bag over her head.

I'm such a good boy!

My stealth was high enough to get close enough to these companies, hiding in the shadows. The boy was still lying there, wrapped in the cloak the lady had taken off. He was shivering - the loss of blood or feedback from the obscure amulet.

The grandfather leaned tiredly against the wall of the empty house and seemed asleep. Only a regular wave of sensory skill slipped over me to say otherwise. Fortunately, the shadows were slow to betray my presence, and my stealth was noticeably higher than that of a standard stealth trooper. And I finally got a glimpse of the girl's class, which I hadn't seen before for some reason (some passive thing, or the result of the level I'd taken?).

Dagger of the Savannah.

It sounds pathos, sonorous, and has a rare, almost epic rank. Something tells me that she may very well get it in time if she tries hard enough. All in all, she's a dangerous woman, but I knew that before. I also have a suspicion that whatever her second class was, she didn't develop it at all, grinding only the main one. But she was able to put in more points, too.

Rank of the class can be promoted. If you have a normal-grade class and you developed all the skills. If certain conditions are met, the class rank can be upgraded. To uncommon. And so on.

But the most important thing is that I have fulfilled my purpose, which is why I started this surveillance of the whole company. I was able to understand how they could be found so easily and smoothly. After all, they were well clear of the pursuit. I was pretty relieved, I must say, for I had already imagined that I could be tracked in exactly the same way, shuddering in horror.

The reason was the little brooch pinned on the boy's collar. Truth be told, he was wearing all sorts of magical shit, but this particular brooch didn't just glow magically (only in the Gaze, and almost imperceptibly), it also occasionally flashed wave of magic a barely visible at full concentration. And at the same moment, the strange thing in the hands of some dickhead, surrounded by guards and personal bodyguards, was also emitting magic in about the same range. Not so stealthy - I could even feel it with a sphere - but they didn't need to hide, either.

I don't know why the little bastard keeps the tracker with him, but I don't think he knows about it. I would have killed him myself otherwise, so he wouldn't have tortured himself and others with his stupidity. I waited for another flash of light from a strange device that looked something like a credit card reader, and after making sure that the brooch was definitely a tracker, I decided to be polite and say hello.

Quietly taking out a stolen bottle of wine and the same stolen corkscrew (I left the money for the former owners, just for fun), I sharply pull the cork out of the bottle.

Chpock!

What does that "Chpock" mean? This is an imitation of the sound of a cork opening. Which is a reference to the following anecdote.

Once upon a time, there was a polite moose in the woods. And, indeed, the moose was very polite, but he had one little weakness - he fucked all the animals in the forest. And the bear, and the wolf, and the fox, all of them. There was only hare that the polite moose hadn't managed to get to yet. Poor hare. hides from the moose day and night, he's afraid. One evening the hare decided to hide in the beaver's burrow.

"Listen, beaver," says the hare, "let me sleep in your hole".

The moose have already been to you, maybe he won't come back a second time.

The beaver let him in, but warned him just in case:

"Stick a carrot up your ass," he said, "just in case".

And so the hare did...

Now the moon is shining in the sky, the stars are twinkling, the hare is going slowly to sleep...

...and all of a sudden... Chpock!

"Good evening!"

"Good evening." This joke, like the shit jokes, will never get old!

Obscene people remain obscene in everything! They started by not letting me eat pies, and they continued in the same vein. You say hello to them, you politely bring them booze, and these assholes throw all sorts of things at you, sometimes swear words, but more often the steel.

At once a handful of needles from the old man, who looked tired and sleepy, and an extremely accurate knife from the lady quickly convinced me that some people do not know the concept of good manners. And I informed them of that, having previously caught the knife on the fly and rolled away from the cloud of long and bad-looking needles.

"Before you talk about manners, you should remember that entering someone's home uninvited is also a pretty rude thing to do."

I stared at him silently, not even saying a word. I would have raised an eyebrow, too, but I don't have the facial expressions to do the eyebrow dance in the style of Indian movies. Apparently, my gaze was eloquent enough to make the grandfather choke on his prepared remarks. Still, they were the ones who broke into the cabin first.

But the [censored] lady didn't say a word, just took a position in front of the barely conscious kid, getting ready to sell her life. The two of them were boring, but the kid, who really had a jetpack in his ass, was the real deal. You say a word, and he already flies up in a thrust formed out of pure indignation.

"Are you going to stay quiet?" I ask after a minute of silence.

The guards seem to be continuing to concentrate their forces, blocking all the ways, so I'm not in a hurry yet. And I want to piss them off, at least out of sporting interest.

"Well, you're the one who came, sire." The old man immediately brushes it off.

"Well, that's where I was hiding. In the building next door." Making the most honest and dorky face possible.

"Hiding?"

"Yes, yes. I was hiding." And now we're nodding like a dummy. "Right here. And here I am looking. So I'm looking."

"Are you looking?" Still unperturbed, this monster, who, as it seems, can't be persuaded by anything at all. Although with such a guardian as their hysterical kid, one can hardly get used to the stupidity of those around him.

"Looking." I play the part to the end. "And I see almost a full complement of local guards around the block. It's no big deal, of course, but I think they will stop by and visit my neighbor..."

I spoke into the void. The guard was beside the window in a blink of an eye, looking out for the enemy. The enemies themselves, of course, were hiding so that they could not be seen from this spot, but such a crowd could hardly be hidden without a trace.

"Not good." He just said that, though he clearly wanted something stronger and more twisted, preferably several floors and a couple of extensions.

"What is it?" The lady didn't even take her eyes off of me, who was sitting next to the second window.

"A lot. And they have already blocked all the exits." He replied indifferently, even philosophically.

The woman continued to drill me with unblinking eyes. Somehow I was getting tired of all this. If she was going to go after the nice, kind me again, I'd just spit and kill all three of them, and then I wouldn't care if they searched the place. I'm not going to be found if I'm out in the swamps with Ygra.

"What are you willing to offer, and how much will you demand? Let's not tell any stories about pies. I don't believe it." Gradually, her impenetrability is becoming more and more annoying, but now I have no desire to argue.

"First of all, take the tracker off this little trifle, and then tell me about your distrust." I threw in another ace, after which I finally saw a decent reaction. There's shock, and disbelief, and widened eyes. If only she'd been like that for more than a fraction of a second.

"What tracker ?" As if there were no risk to life, this terminator asks.

"Fi, how uncivilized! Where's the "please"?" The guards are still not moving, so I allow myself a little extra play on the nerves.

"Please tell me about the tracker ." As if she hadn't noticed the banter, she answered.

"About the tracker?" I smirk even more abominably. "It... is."

I confess, I was sure of an attack from her, and I even deliberately provoked her, but she didn't seem to mind my outright mockery. But the half-dead moron tried to yell something but was promptly silenced by the butler who had stepped away from the window.

"Please elaborate." Only intuition and clairvoyance tell me how furious she is, for the face of a high-level assassin is calm itself.

"Ha, okay." I decide not to torture the pet. "In the lining of the collar. There's a brooch of some sort in there, radiating in the same spectrum as the thing in the hands of the leader of the guards. Or not the leader, but a big guy, for that's the only way he's guarded by the whole bunch."

But these words hit them harder than I expected. It was really to the point of deep shock, disbelief, and some almost childish resentment in the eyes of the boy, who, overcoming all the old man's resistance, indignantly expressed his grievances to me (at least not by shouting): "This brooch is a gift to me from the beautiful Sioria, and it is not for you, you vile insolent and humble, to sayyyy....."

Fortunately, the old man shut him up pretty quickly, before he could even talk his murder out of my hands. I watched more of the glances and the exchange of a couple of secret gestures between the killer and the bodyguard. The woman took the brooch from the protesting boy in one fell swoop, then broke it in two (not a bad strength stat!), and stared with hatred at the magic crystal embedded in the jewelry, the background of which was no longer concealed by the material of the brooch.

"So it was a failed route, from the start." In a voice really scary in its deadpan indifference, this person summed it up. "The Lorais won't give us shelter, and we won't reach any other allies."

I'm going to have to charge them, now that they're in the right condition. I winked cheerfully at the boy who was about to cry and then went into The Shadow. I have more than half my reserves left after the day's fun in the nameless alley, so I have plenty left over for my plans. Especially when you consider the fatigue of both opponents.

I stepped out of the Shadow behind the woman's back, dropping her to the floor with a simple slip, and throwing the bottle of wine ( sad I didn't even take a sip) in the face of the hesitant bodyguard. In a moment I was standing in front of the confused-looking lad, holding the little fellow by the collar and putting a dagger to his throat, almost cutting it. His companions were just beginning to come to their senses, but they couldn't stop me.

"You know, I'm tired of playing these pranks." In the serene voice of a high-smoking rastaman, I said, looking him in the face. "I can get you out of town, but not for free. Interested?"

He really wants to kill me, preferably painfully, but, showing a dignified restraint, he still finds the strength to nod silently in response to my question.

"The payment is very simple." Now I'm smiling even wider. "I want that bitch with the knives over there. In every way, so to speak. I want her backward, on her back, on her knees - all the right way. I've even got a matching collar, the kind slave traders like to use. Now order her to put it on, and we'll start the rescue operation right away."

I have no idea whether the local slave-traders have such things, but judging by the reaction of the whole company, the cliché has worked, and it does exist. He also hates me with every fiber of his being. Literally to the point of trembling in his joints and tunnel vision.

"We agree." A voice from behind me sounded as indifferent as ever. "Give me the collar, you don't even have to remove the dagger. But hurry, the guards are too close."

Commendable loyalty! She didn't even think about it, she answered right away. And the guards, by the way, really began to move, beginning to gather forces for the assault, which I felt through the sphere much earlier.

"What's up, kid, are you mad at me for taking your toy? Did you fuck her yourself" And, catching the look on the half-wit's face, I am barely able to contain the laughter. "Seriously? The lady decided to help her mentee with his education, to teach him how to do it properly? That's good, it means she will be experienced. That's great. Now I'll take the steel away from the trachea so you can give her the order yourself. You give and my word to you, I'll lead her out of town with all my best efforts. I can do it even now."

I look into the eyes filled with the most sincere anger, hatred, and powerless rage, from which tears just flow down the cheeks, which makes me feel good. That's what I call trolling! Much better than on the Internets! And the opportunity to pick up a high-level companion: the ring's reinforcer and special skill would easily equip me with an experienced ally. It wasn't the least bit pathetic to get a jerk out of town and into the wilderness.

"I said I agree." Already louder declares my future property, while the guards show more and more activity in their friendly ranks.

"And if you refuse, I'll just kill you. " I look into his eyes with the same expression that I used to choose a TV-show to watch on a boring evening. "Then your servant, and I'll put a collar on your whore myself by force. So be nice, you little cocksucker, because you piss me off like I don't know who."

He's scared, he's really scared, for sure. He probably would have pissed himself, but he probably didn't have anything to piss with. The freak's fear was sweet and almost narcotically pleasurable. I wanted to torture him more, but the damn guards wouldn't let my imagination and fantasy run wild.

"I said I accept!" At last, I could hear the panic and despair in her voice, which also gave off a pleasant sigh of exhaustion in my chest. "Just give me the fuckin' collar and seal the contract!"

I take the blade away from his throat to listen to the answer. He has considered his servants a mere interior detail all his life; he is accustomed to being his family's most important treasure. His life is the main value here, and if he needs to pay for his salvation with the body of one of his things, he will easily do so.

That's how he was taught to live.

That's the way he used to live.

He's used to being in charge.

He's used to getting what he wants.

He will take revenge on me, but later. For his humiliation, for his fear, but now all the things he'd been taught should push him toward the only right choice. Save himself and think about revenge later.

I ease the pressure on his throat a little, almost cutting through his cervical artery instead, just enough for him to speak. Behind me, his servant, to whom the little fucker's life is more important than her own, is arguing something. Talking about how she'd do anything to keep me from ending the bastard's life.

It would be a logical and calculated decision, and she understands this too, letting the boy know in every way that she approves of his decision. They may break up, but his father will find him a new maid, a new lover, and a new everything. Just don't let him do anything stupid.

His throat is constricted, and the tears and snot make the next phrase sound truly pathetic. That's really funny, without any exaggeration. A little more and he would have choked on his snot!

"I, Sigismund of House Lanorsk, by my word and my will, send you to the hell, you vile bastard!"

I ignore the woman's shriek and the old man's silent attack, shifting sharply to the side, letting them both past me, literally forcing them to collide with their foreheads, after which I good-naturedly smile at the guy and stick my dagger blade with a barely audible shriek...

...into the wooden wall, next to his neck.

Another short move through the Shadow to get out of the attack zone, and then I take the same position next to the window that I took at the beginning of my conversation.

"That's a decent answer, you little twerp," I said in a normal tone of voice. "Leave the brooch here, it is not worth worrying the pursuers before the time. You follow me in the footsteps and very quickly. Almost everything is blocked, but I can find loopholes. Just take your "great sender" in the arms, it is unlikely he will go somewhere on their own."

I look for a second at the really completely confused faces of the old man and the [censored]-assed bitch, who really don't understand anything at all right now. The amazing thing is that it was the crying Sigismund, who still hasn't recovered from the use of the amulet, who was the first to come to his senses. He could only utter one word:

"Why?" The not noble sniffing of the snotty nose took away the pathos.

"A regular faggot of your aristocracy would have given me his maid, and then he would have thought of plans for revenge against the inadequate moron. The keyword is "after," that is after the danger had passed and he was surrounded by loyal people."

This is exactly what my clairvoyance tells me, which makes me suffer from a slight migraine, I must say. I felt that even the wielder of the shadow sphere would not be able to get the three of them out of the trap, so I continued without any dramatic pauses.

"If you were just an infantile asshole who acted according to the same correct algorithm, I wouldn't bother with you - allies like that are worse than enemies. And why should I bother with someone who would then want to stab me in the back? But you, to my surprise, still showed enough courage and common decency that I decided to help your company in earnest. Whatever you think you are, from the point of view of the rest of the nobility, you're an impulsive dickhead. As a person, on the other hand, you're better than you seem at first glance. Such people either die in obscurity, alone and betrayed by everyone, or they change the history of the world."

I stretch myself dutifully, waiting for the moment when all the guards and their associated forces surrounding the area will move, unwittingly creating enough gaps in the previously unbreakable ring to slip through.

"What type you are, time will tell. In the meantime, get your asses and follow me!"

Once I have spoken, I jump out of the window and into the small blind spot, which is not visible from the positions of the people watching the building. I have a feeling that the previous owner of the now-uninhabited workshop made this place deliberately so that there would be a place and a way to transfer unaccounted goods, even under the watchful eye of the ubiquitous sentinels.

I didn't turn around and walked in the direction I knew only, not doubting that the group was following me. The boy did have to be carried by the old bodyguard, but that was nothing.

Why the fuck do I give a fuck?

For what?

What the fuck do I need all these risks for?

At the very least, I could get more money out of them, and I could make fun of the jerks at the same time. The main thing is not only to get them out of the town but also to somehow get Ygra and explain to her that I didn't bring her lunch.

Fucking hell, Kostya, why do you always mess with such bullshit?

* * *