Despite the development of technology and science, our spiritual development ...
1
The archmage watched the siege of the stronghold with indifference. The rampart, arcing around the high walls, grew higher every day. From the highest point of the Citadel, the Alliance warriors looked like multi-colored ants, of which there were too many. Actually, they were ants - the people swarming below, dwarves and elves were much weaker than the draugr protecting the stronghold. Among this rabble were huge war beasts, packs of demons, as well as detachments of mechanical warriors and elementals - apparently, one of the Great Magicians was able to drag them from neighboring worlds.
Artsius could easily have crushed any of the powerful rivals one by one, but time is lost. He could throw all his strength into one furious attack and - very likely - even destroy half of the combined army. After all, there is still enough energy in the accumulators of the Citadel, and the draugrs are ideal warriors, and each is worth a dozen weak people ...
However, the master of the once impregnable stronghold did not see the point in this - it is foolish to destroy the servants when you can get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Niyra brought elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of dwarfs and portals of movement. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a particle of divine blood flowing in the veins of Artsius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in storage will be a nice addition to the main prize.
Arcius folded his arms across his chest and took a step behind the parapet of the tower, grinning - the weak magicians of the people did not master levitation. Flying around a graceful spire created by a long-vanished race of lizards, the archmage noted the broken lines of protective runes and streaks of metal - the results of shelling with a new weapon. The damage healed itself and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical shape of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but the enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they had nothing of the kind.
The dome sparkled with iridescent flashes, absorbing alien magic. Enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. From time to time, catapults of gnomes and magical throwers of elves were triggered, throwing out alchemical charges, but protective weaves destroyed them even in flight. Counteracting such simple attacks was not difficult - the enemy acted in a straightforward and predictable manner, depleting the Citadel's stores. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptied, but now it didn't matter ...
Three thousand years ago, the Great Magicians destroyed Tazrai, the last god of the Primordial World. One of them was Artsius, who, like all the conquerors, received a particle of the highest essence. After that, everything changed a lot - the peace treaty was violated, and the incessant wars of the Great Magicians halved the population. And the planet itself was now revolving around the star, having an eternal day in one hemisphere and an endless night in the other. And only magic allowed the rulers to maintain life in their lands ...
The rivals did not hide - Suel launched fireballs, and Niyra occasionally attacked with branchy lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Mage - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who raised new warriors from the dead - the forces of the Alliance regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. With local portals, Khadim, with varying success, threw combat troops under the dome.
Dark-skinned teenagers muttered, waving their arms over the bodies of elves and humans. It's a pity that the gnomes were busy with their cars and did not climb into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugrs. Despite the efforts of the servants, the defenders' army was melting faster than the reinforcements arrived, attacks in the last hours following one another. The Alliance was ready to pay any price for victory - after all, each of the Great Mages deeply does not care about the lives of their fighters.
The Lord froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He disliked ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The walls of dark metal gleamed faintly, but the faint light of their delicate eyes did not bother him. Artsius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was found in one of the fortress's caches when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use their original language, so it was difficult to understand their writing. It is likely that the simultaneous discharge of all crystals will allow the drawing to be filled with Power, throwing the owner into one of the closed worlds. Well, or just make a big explosion, which is also not bad - in any case, the enemies will not know what awaits them until the last moment.
The black metal of the floor was adorned with the finishing lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, once elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental command, the dead servants dragged the massive throne into the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the store and think carefully about what to take with you. Near the racks of weapons from some unknown world, Artsius paused briefly. No - it is foolish to count on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is not known whether they will act where the forgotten ritual throws him. In any case, such weapons were useless in the Primordial World.
The lord put on the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts criss-crossing on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The archmage has implanted drives that are an order of magnitude more powerful into his body, however, such help will be useful. On a black overalls, the product of ancient craftsmen looked somewhat clumsy, but it did its job perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and constraining movement of metal armor, the artifact acted far more efficiently - the powerful body was surrounded by the haze of a force screen.
Smiling, the archmage hung a saber in a simple sheath on his belt - it was this ghostly blade that dealt the decisive blow, destroying the incarnation of the god. A shoulder bag made of sturdy dragonscale completed the outfit - a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts fit inside. Now Artsius looked no different from the wandering mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - so far from the Primordial World the archmage had not yet climbed. It will not work to hide in neighboring worlds - he will simply not be allowed to open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in the construction of negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the veil set by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - the local portals that penetrated the shields were unknown to Artsius himself.
Having taken a place on the throne, the overlord ordered to remove the protective screens, depicting their overload. He enjoyed himself for a while, commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one, which included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflecting field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The Long-Ears showered the draugr with a rain of arrows, some tore apart the target on impact. It looks like the gnomes have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, every recipe quickly found opposition, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous to the owner.
So one of the Great Magicians died, who was foolish enough to drag an artifact from some distant world to his lair. Artsius remembered his ravings about ships plowing through the void and powerful weapons firing with pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by the divine blood ...
For some time Artsius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, who devoted himself to the fire element. A blazing rain rained down on the force shield and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ash under powerful blows - it was soon all over. Things were a little better in other places - the forces of the defenders were melting and, finally, the detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. There was a fierce battle, but before the last draugr fell, Artsius saw two Great Mages.
Suel usually portrayed a gray-bearded old man in front of people, and Niyra chose the guise of an eternally young elf. Warriors lined up around the leaders; each has good armor and a long sword, reinforced with weak elemental weaves.
The elf bent over the fallen, spending no more than a couple of moments on each. Some rose and staggered to stand in line - for the Great Magician with a particle of divine blood, resurrection was a difficult, but doable task.
The archmage suppressed a smile, noticing Suel's lack of weapons. He was dressed in a snow-white robe, under which it is difficult to hide something serious. Niyra wore a weightless cape sparkling with silver, leaving her left chest exposed. A living wreath set off the elf's red hair. On her hip was only a short sword in a simple sheath - more a symbol of power than a fighting instrument. Great sorcerers are accustomed to relying on art, not weapons - this is what Artsius counted on.
Nobody knew what Khadim looked like - he never left his flying fortress. Even now, when the forces of the Alliance actually triumphed, the Great Mage did not dare to bring the golden pyramid of heavenly metal closer. Khadim was expecting surprises, and the archmage did not disappoint him.
The artifact, which the lord had been working on recently, was triggered - the main square of the Citadel was flooded with a lake of seething darkness. Enemy magicians did not allow him to crawl, but hundreds of people and elves could no longer be helped - the enemies writhed in terrible agony, being consumed by the darkness alive.
The great magicians were surrounded by protective spheres, and a careless wave of the old man's hand dispelled the remnants of the poisonous mist. Arcius did not pull, throwing open the doors of the hall and sending a stream of blackness from a thin rod at the elf. In fact, he knew that such nonsense of the Great Magicians was impossible to penetrate, but the lack of resistance would look suspicious.
- It will be over soon! - Niyra said in a chant, beating off the magic charge.
- Toys ... Our black friend has always loved things from other worlds. You should have come up with something else, - stated Suel. - Where is that weapon that you bought from the merchants?
“It doesn't work here,” the archmage answered indifferently. - Why did the third one decide to intervene?
“The fact that my Citadel is in the Twilight Reach does not mean anything,” Arcius responded, making himself more comfortable on the throne, “and your skin color was not always the same as it is now ...
- Enough! The great magician held out his palm demandingly. - Give your share of the legacy and get out!
- You own the same - like the rest! Why do you still need divine blood? The sovereign asked for order, knowing the answer.
- The best will get it! - answered Niyra, smoothly circling the ranks of the soldiers. - Now this is their world! Humans, elves and gnomes: together we will correct the mistakes of the past ...
“You yourself know how it will end,” said Artsius. - Gods will not come out of you anyway. Then no!
“You chose your destiny,” Suel nodded grimly.
- And why are you dressed like that? - asked the girl, noticing the appearance of the archmage. - We will not fight you in a duel!
The great magician waved his hand in order. Chasing a step, people and elves in snow-white armor entered the hall, then two dwarf warriors clad in gray scales with complex mechanisms, similar to double-shot crossbows, appeared. The tips of the bolts glowed brightly, hinting at the built-in storage crystals - such ammunition the short men finished off the servant mages. Artsius's face flickered with panic, which was replaced by a malicious grin as both Great Mages followed the warriors.
The master did not waste time on meaningless conversations, pushing an inconspicuous lever with his foot. A massive slab slammed into the door, crushing two elves carrying the Alliance battle standards with a crunch. Now the main hall of the Citadel has become a trap for anyone unlucky enough to be inside.
The dwarves were the first to react, unloading their ridiculous weapon, - Artsius tilted his head to let the bolt pass, and burned the second in flight with a "fire spit". Subsequent shots passed by as the armor's protection kicked in, the shields deflecting magical projectiles.
Artsius slashed his blade across his palm, sending a trickle of blood into an inconspicuous hole in the sand. The warriors stepped to the throne in unison, drawing out their swords, but the leader's gesture stopped them.
- We are stronger than you! Suel shook his head. - Why all this?
“You’ll find out now,” the archmage chuckled, tossing the ghost blade into its sheath and forcing the wound to close.
"Portal of travel," Niyra realized as the lines of the drawing flickered in the air. - Stupid. Too big ... You don't think this will work, do you?
The scornful smile disappeared from the face of the elf - two powerful flashes flashed one after another behind the walls, but people could not cope with the obstacle. The citadel shook, and cracks ran like snakes across the dark metal of the walls - the third Great Magician stepped in.
Suel produced constructs and created weaving, trying to destroy the pattern, but it turned out badly for him - few people took ritual magic seriously. Indeed, in order to achieve the desired result, it was necessary to spend a huge amount of time building complex figures and filling them with Power.
- “Everything disintegrates and dies. Decline and decay - that's what awaits the Primordial World! Nothing lasts forever. Trying to fight this is pointless! " - The archmage shouted the activation key and burst out laughing.
The floor of the hall reared, and discharges crackled in the air - the fabric of the universe began to tear. Time obediently slowed down, and Artsius managed to see the metal of the walls of the main hall flowing down in streams and the blinding light outside.
There, the captive Force broke free - thousands of people, elves and dwarves died, swept away by a fiery whirlwind. The shields put up by the magicians did not last even a moment. The overloaded power screens of the flying fortress were extinguished, and an all-crushing flame struck the golden metal, evaporating the protective artifacts embedded in the armor ...
Where the spire of the Citadel had proudly pierced the clouds, a huge crater now gaped. At the edge of the hole, a pyramid that had collapsed from the sky froze, now looking like a twisted piece of metal. But the Great Magician was alive. Awe was frozen on his face - after all, not every younger god could do what Artsius had done.
Everything that fell within the scope of the portal figure was thrown into the blackness of interreality. Warriors writhed in agony - mail and helmets melted, and the bodies of men and elves quickly decayed. The gnomes lasted the longest - enchanted armor for some time resisted the effects of the all-pervading blackness.
The figures of Suel and Niira shimmered with a web of protective spheres, exactly the same as that surrounded Artsius - after all, only so strong magicians can move between distant worlds.
Gradually, everything else, absorbed by timelessness, disappeared. There were only three glittering spheres hanging in the void now. The archmage was still laughing as the protective shields burst, and the darkness gave way to a blinding explosion of transition.
Suel was on all fours and shaking his head - the journey took all the powers of the Great Magician. The rival did not use the storage crystals and was not at all ready for what would end up in a closed world.
Artsius felt a little better - he did not see the usual flows of energies, and his reserve was almost completely exhausted. The two large storage stones in the bag were half empty, but the overlord did not count on their help. It remains to be seen how high art works here.
Niyra recovered first and tried to attack with air magic. But instead of a branching discharge, only a faint spark escaped from the tip of the sword.
- This is a closed world! .. - the girl whispered in shock.
- I know! - answered the archmage, swinging his saber. “The magic is weak here. Well, or it does not act as we expect ... I'm ready for this, but you ... I doubt very much!
Thin fingers still gripped the hilt of the sword as the severed hand fell under the feet of the screeching elf. The next attack reached the target, ripping open the snow-white robe on the chest. Artsius launched two more swift attacks, then took a step back, contemplating the result curiously. Niyra didn’t scream anymore - the red liquid was spurting out of her cut throat. The wounds were closing quickly, but the archmage was not going to wait. He thought that even a particle of divine blood does not guarantee survival in a closed world, and then with one precise movement he separated the elf's head from her body.
The protective shield of the armor flashed and went out - it was Suel who released "fiery spit" into the back of the archmage. A few red-hot spray hit the mark, but Artsius only grimaced in displeasure - the burned skin regenerated faster than the rips in the elven overalls were closing. The enemy put the rest of his strength into the elemental form, but the effect of it was not at all the same as in the Primordial World.
- Wait! I admit - I was wrong! We can agree ... - Suel whispered, thrusting his hand into the folds of his robe.
The great magician already knew that he had lost - fear splashed in his eyes, but Artsius did not enjoy the moment. A shimmering blade flashed, and Suel ceased to exist.
- Welcome to the closed world! - said the winner, looking after the flown off gray-haired head.
Arcius weaved the particles of divine essence from the defeated rivals. The precious liquid hung like a black drop over his palm. Any reasonable person would give everything to gain incredible power, but for the archmage himself, divine blood was useless. The precious substance slowly evaporated, so the winner was going to endow the future servants with the gift. In the Primordial World, this would have been enough for a hundred mortals to become magicians, but here ... it will be revealed soon!
Trying to collect the elusive crumbs of energy, Artsius began to examine the surroundings. And he didn't like what he saw. The local luminary stood at its zenith, which irritated the sensitive eyes of those who had managed to get used to the eternal twilight of the Primordial World. The air was unexpectedly fresh and pleasant - the sense of smell was distinguished by hundreds of unusual aromas.
Apparently, the locals did not develop high art - a mechanism with spread wings, like a dragon, flew in the sky. And on the horizon were several lattice masts of unknown purpose. Residents do not lack resources - very good. It seems that this world never knew gods - Artsius did not feel their attention. But the emanations of a large number of sentient beings nearby were clearly felt - tens ... no, hundreds of thousands!
It looks like he was lucky to be near a major city or even a capital. Well, it's time to acquire loyal servants - a dozen magicians will be enough for a start. Based on the flying machines, this world is inhabited by gnomes. Arcius had already seen similar man-made dragons - they had pipes belching soot on their backs. Only bearded minions, devoid of magic, can think of this.
For these creatures, Artsius felt deep sympathy - after all, from the dead short ones excellent draugrs were obtained. Strong, hardy and fast warriors who are difficult to hit with an arrow or weave. A large army of such - just what is needed to conquer the whole world!
2
Gleb sadly snapped his fingers on the curved handle of the metal detector - it looked like the Chinese product had died. A second-hand Garrett — the best friend of the treasure hunter and the trophy hunter — hadn't been a problem up to this point.
Having pulled out four finger batteries, Gleb walked to the UAZ car standing in the bushes. There was a pack of batteries in the glove compartment, but they lasted exactly ten seconds of operation. The device passed out with a sad squeak.
- "Huan-shun". The name corresponds to the quality. Probably in Chinese it means bullshit! - suggested Gleb, examining the label. - It turns out that the batteries are also rotten. Well, time to pick up a shovel!
He wished he had bought a second set of decent batteries. Usually the first was enough for a long time. Several pegs stuck in the ground marked the places where there might be something interesting. Actually, they should have been checked last, by driving the device with a different coil ...
Gleb shook his head warily - it looks like the army team suddenly decided to hold an exercise. An abandoned landfill, which was ten kilometers away, was not interested in the warrior until recently. This area, surrounded by a flimsy barbed wire fence with rusty plaques, could only be formally considered a landfill. It seems that the locals even set up cannabis plantations there - the villagers strongly recommended staying away from this place. And somewhere nearby there was a community of some sectarians - either Mormons or Eighth-day Adventists ... Gleb did not understand this well.
A loud clap, similar to a distant explosion, and the subsequent peals of thunder were no longer repeated, so the young man decided to continue what he had begun. It seems that the soldiers' enthusiasm has dried up (or the ammunition intended for disposal has dried up) - after all, judging by the sounds, something serious has exploded there ...
- That's okay! - commented the young man. - Make love Not War! Shoot - and that's enough! Why burn diesel fuel when you can sell it?
Gleb did not like the military, especially because they wanted to limit his freedom and erase from life at least a year. For some reason, the military registration and enlistment office did not want to wait until the young man received a higher education - apparently, the country needed soldiers more than engineers. Gleb was not going to learn how to walk in formation and fill his bed, because he did not see any further application of these useful skills. And the young man was not eager to participate in "peacekeeping operations".
At first, annoying "little green men" tried to catch the evader, but he did not appear at the place of registration. The summons came where the addressee was absent. What happened to them later, the young man did not know, but he guessed that the "pieces of paper of happiness" went straight to the trash can.
Among the people in uniform there were also those who could benefit, but this is rather an exception to the rule. Like a cunning ensign - the seller of accountable property. Gleb quite successfully acquired a UAZ-469 from this dealer from conservation, on which he made forays into nature. The second UAZ was bought for spare parts and could not drive itself - its disassembled skeleton stood in the aunt's shed along with other military junk. There were also a dozen titanium shovels - they were a nice bonus. The young man believed that they would be enough for a long time - while he used one.
An incomplete higher education, six months of work as an installation technician, a driver's license and practice in a car service - these are all Gleb's achievements by the age of twenty-five.
A few acquaintances considered him an extremely asocial type - the young man did not officially work, did not pay taxes and considered himself free from any obligations to the state. He did not make ambitious plans - there was enough odd income and income from an unusual hobby for life, clothes, food and entertainment.
Gleb did not want to shift papers in the office or stand behind the counter. And he liked the free schedule more than the eight-hour working day five times a week. Gleb quickly realized that it was better to work for himself and not for his “uncle”. The young man did not refuse any "hack-work" and did not feel a lack of funds - those who can work with their hands will not be left without a piece of bread and butter. He had no bad habits, he had a very negative attitude to cigarettes and beer. I did not visit the gym, did not jog in the morning, but work in the fresh air and a healthy diet allowed me not to think about sores.
Gleb's only relative was his aunt, whom he once planted money with. For this, a harmful woman invented various offensive nicknames for her nephew - most often Gleb heard: "Twenty-five years old - no mind", "Oryasina" and "grave digger." Although there were grounds for the last nickname - it was really stupid to drag home the skull of a "Hans" who had perished in a foreign land. On the advice of a medical student, the young man boiled the trophy all night in a saucepan of borscht. The aunt, who discovered the skull early in the morning, then stuttered for a week and drank drops. After this incident, relations with a distant relative were completely ruined, and the neighbors began to look askance at the young man.
But the gift was a success - now Gleb was living with a friend who was obsessed with vampires, Japanese cartoons and a bespectacled boy flying on a broomstick. True, a week later the skull was hidden in the closet - the girl quickly lost interest in black magic. The friend also had other oddities - at first she called her roommate Shinji, and in addition, she kept an extremely ugly cat named Schrodinger at home. Gleb got used to this parrot name, and his partner - to the frequent "business trips" of his chosen one.
Gleb was looking for things left on the battlefield. For two years, many objects passed through his hands, among which occasionally came across valuable ones. At first, the young man ransacked abandoned villages with a mine detector, but the "exhaust" from such an occupation was small. But flasks, helmets and badges went to buyers and collectors, including foreign ones. After all, a huge number of people were ready to pay good money for the echo of the past war ...
Half a day spent in the wilderness of Smolensk brought only disappointment. Once upon a time at the edge of the forest there were several dugouts and dugouts - Gleb could only guess who had lived there before. The owners left a lot of rubbish, the belonging of which was difficult to determine. For this I had to shovel a couple of acres of land.
- The life of a simple metalworker is hard and unsightly! - Gleb grunted, casting a glance at the piece of tarpaulin where the finds were laid out. One old iron - mine shanks, a scattering of cartridges, the lid of some box with an inscription worn out by time.
A couple of rusty German carbines with decayed butts had to be buried in the same place where they were found. The young man did not touch the remains of the fighters, taking only posthumous medallions. He gave the extremely rare cases with decayed pieces of paper inside, which were worn by the Red Army, to the search engines. But German tokens were valuable. There were resources in the global network where the rich relatives of the "Hans" who perished in the battles of World War II paid good money for oval plaques with embossed numbers and information where they were found. It's a pity that nothing like this happened today.
Pulling out the phone, Gleb was surprised - there was no signal from the cellular network, and everything else the battery charge dropped to half. Putting the headset pads into his ears, the young man heard powerful guitar riffs - it's more fun to work with such music.
- That's it! Yesterday I fully charged my mobile phone ... - Gleb shook his head.
One dead, the other halved energy source is hardly a coincidence. It would be frustrating if the same thing happened to your car battery. The Crooked Starter was in the trunk along with a bunch of other useful parts, but starting the UAZ engine in this way was not fun for weaklings.
Gleb promised himself that he would finally buy a portable solar battery, which the Chinese have learned to do. Still, it is unpleasant to be left without electricity - it is now about twenty kilometers to the nearest village, but sometimes the excavations took place much further from civilization.
The young man had heard of ammunition knocking out electronics. However, he did not take this information seriously - bourgeois HAARP antennas, "tar" colliders, aliens from the planet Nibiru ... Tales for idiots! And who needs to test new weapons in the Smolensk wilderness?
Another book from the very bottom of Russian science fiction. I will not dwell on bad language, a bunch of unnecessary descriptions and outright stupidity, which is found everywhere in the book, and will focus on the main character. He is vile and disgusting.
The main character (Gleb) is a selfish bastard and a marginal who does not evoke any positive feelings in the reader. He's a goon by nature. Having received the ability, he goes "all bad": copies dollars, buys expensive clothes and gadgets, exploits people around him. At the same time, he does not have any thoughts, albeit typical of good guys, but very correct, like "great responsibility comes with great power". Gleb is a consumer. He takes what he can and does not give anything in return, justifying himself by the fact that the world is rotten, and around him there is continuous consumer trash (while not counting himself among them for a second).
At the same time, Gleb does not feel any sympathy or pity when his teacher kills another portion of people: whether they are Caucasians and their Russian friends, "thieves", visitors to shopping centers or military conscripts. The only thing that Gleb is worried about is that the murders are not brought to their trail. How can such a hero evoke sympathy? How can you sympathize with him? The only thing I wanted was for him to die at last. However, it is clear that nothing like this will happen in this book. For the author, the hero is an ideal man with "equally developed body and mind."
I would also like to dwell on the description of the Smolensk region. I have not been to the Smolensk region, but the book leads me to the conclusion that besides Gleb there are no other normal people there. But instead there are: bikers in horned helmets, Caucasians with shotguns, oligarchs with frostbitten guards, prostitutes, drunks, homeless people, stupid informals, etc. Throughout the entire book, I have not seriously seen any other positive character. Maybe only Gleb's girlfriend Lenka.
Lenka is another story. This is the tube beauty that the typical virgin imagines. Thin, small, without makeup, but still beautiful, with a rich inner world, an agreeable character, a libertine in bed and a shy girl the rest of the time. She also has a free apartment, and her parents are in Italy or Norway. And why she sleeps with Gleb, who does not share her interests and considers all her friends to be idiots is a mystery.
The language I didn't want to write about still deserves a word or two. Sometimes the author delves into the theory of military technology or military operations, like a sofa expert, and sometimes slips, like in the gangster novels of the nineties and zero. It doesn't even smell like fantasy or science fiction. This is a story about how a simple and unremarkable young man of a generation of consumers receives divine abilities and, based on his meager considerations, begins to use them for his own good. Something like a sketch by the author on the topic "What would I do if I became a god." Of course, there is not even a tenth of the depth and meaning that were in "It is difficult to be a god" by the Strugatskys. It’s easy for Gleb to be a god
Alex Chizhovsky
Omega Point
The archmage watched the siege of the stronghold with indifference. The rampart, arcing around the high walls, was getting higher every day. From the highest point of the Citadel, the Alliance warriors looked like multi-colored ants, of which there were too many. Actually, they were ants - people swarming below, gnomes and elves were much weaker than the draugr who defend the stronghold. Among this rabble were huge war beasts, flocks of demons, as well as detachments of mechanical warriors and elementals - apparently, one of the Great Magicians was able to drag them from neighboring worlds.
Artsius could easily have crushed any of the powerful rivals one by one, but time is lost. He could throw all his forces into one furious attack and - very possibly - even destroy half of the combined army. After all, there is still enough energy in the reservoirs of the Citadel, and the draugrs are ideal warriors, and each is worth a dozen weak people ...
However, the owner of the once impregnable stronghold did not see the point in this - it is foolish to destroy the servants when you can get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Niyra brought elves into this world, and Khadim was engaged in dwarfs and portals of movement. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a particle of divine blood flowing in the veins of Artsius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in the vaults will be a nice addition to the main prize.
Arcius folded his arms across his chest and stepped behind the parapet of the tower, grinning - the weak human magicians never mastered levitation. Flying around a graceful spire created by a long-vanished race of lizards, the archmage noted the broken lines of protective runes and streaks of metal - the results of shelling with a new weapon. The damage healed itself and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical shape of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but its enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they had nothing of the kind.
The dome sparkled with iridescent flashes, absorbing alien magic. Enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. From time to time, catapults of gnomes and magic throwers of elves were triggered, throwing out alchemical charges, but protective weaves destroyed them even in flight. Counteracting such simple attacks was not difficult - the enemy acted in a straightforward and predictable manner, depleting the Citadel's stores. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptied, but now it made no difference ...
Three thousand years ago, the Great Magicians destroyed Tazrai, the last god of the Primordial World. One of them was Artsius, who, like all the winners, received a particle of the highest essence. After that, everything changed a lot - the peace treaty was violated, and the incessant wars of the Great Magicians halved the population. And the planet itself was now revolving around the star, having an eternal day in one hemisphere and an endless night in the other. And only magic allowed the rulers to maintain life in their lands ...
The rivals did not hide - Suel launched fireballs, and Niyra occasionally attacked with branchy lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Mage - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who raised new warriors from the dead - the forces of the Alliance regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. With local portals, Khadim, with varying success, threw fighting units under the dome.
Dark-skinned teenagers muttered, waving their arms over the bodies of elves and humans. It's a pity that the gnomes were busy with their cars and did not climb into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugrs. Despite the efforts of the servants, the defenders' army was melting faster than the reinforcements arrived, attacks in the last hours following one another. The Alliance was ready to pay any price for victory - after all, each of the Great Magicians deeply does not care about the lives of their fighters.
The Lord froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He disliked ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The walls of dark metal gleamed faintly, but the faint light of their delicate eyes did not bother him. Artsius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was found in one of the fortress's caches when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use their original language, so it was difficult to understand their writing. It is likely that the simultaneous discharge of all the crystals will allow you to fill the drawing with Power, throwing the owner into one of the closed worlds. Well, or just make a big explosion, which is also not bad - in any case, the enemies will not know what awaits them until the last moment.
The black metal of the floor was adorned with the finishing lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, once elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental command, the dead servants dragged the massive throne into the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the storage and think carefully about what to take with you. Near the racks of weapons from some unknown world, Artsius paused briefly. No - it is foolish to count on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is not known whether they will act where the forgotten ritual throws him. In any case, in the Primordial World, such a weapon turned out to be useless.
The lord put on the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts with hundreds of tiny crystals criss-crossing on the chest. The archmage has implanted drives that are an order of magnitude more powerful into his body, however, such help will be useful. On a black overalls, the product of ancient masters looked somewhat clumsy, but it did its job perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and constraining movement of metal armor, the artifact acted far more efficiently - the powerful body was surrounded by the haze of a force screen.
Smiling, the archmage hung a saber in a simple sheath on his belt - it was this ghostly blade that dealt the decisive blow, destroying the incarnation of the god. A shoulder bag made of sturdy dragonscale completed the outfit - inside was a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts. Now Artsius looked no different from the wandering mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - the archmage had not yet climbed so far from the Primordial World. It will not work to hide in neighboring worlds - he will simply not be allowed to open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in the construction of negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the veil set by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - the local portals that penetrated the shields were unknown to Artsius himself.
Having taken a place on the throne, the overlord ordered to remove the protective screens, depicting their overload. He enjoyed himself for a while, commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one, which included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflecting field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The long-eared ones showered the draugr with a rain of arrows, some tore apart their targets on impact. It looks like the gnomes have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, every recipe quickly found opposition, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous to the owner.
So one of the Great Magicians died, who was foolish enough to drag an artifact from some distant world to his lair. Artsius remembered his ravings about ships plowing through the void and powerful weapons firing with pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by the divine blood ...
For some time Artsius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, who devoted himself to the fire element. A blazing rain rained down on the force shield and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ash under powerful blows - it was soon all over. Things were a little better in other places - the forces of the defenders were melting and, finally, the detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. There was a fierce fight, but before the last draugr fell, Artsius saw two Great Mages.
Suel usually portrayed a gray-bearded old man in front of people, and Niyra chose the guise of an eternally young elf. Warriors lined up around the leaders; each has good armor and a long sword, reinforced with weak elemental weaves.
The elf bent over the fallen, spending no more than a couple of moments on each. Some rose and staggered to stand in line - for the Great Magician with a particle of divine blood, resurrection was a difficult, but doable task.
Current page: 1 (total of the book has 24 pages) [available passage for reading: 14 pages]
Alex Chizhovsky
Omega Point
1
The archmage watched the siege of the stronghold with indifference. The rampart, arcing around the high walls, grew higher every day. From the highest point of the Citadel, the Alliance warriors looked like multi-colored ants, of which there were too many. Actually, they were ants - the people swarming below, dwarves and elves were much weaker than the draugr protecting the stronghold. Among this rabble were huge war beasts, packs of demons, as well as detachments of mechanical warriors and elementals - apparently, one of the Great Magicians was able to drag them from neighboring worlds.
Artsius could easily have crushed any of the powerful rivals one by one, but time is lost. He could throw all his strength into one furious attack and - very likely - even destroy half of the combined army. After all, there is still enough energy in the accumulators of the Citadel, and the draugrs are ideal warriors, and each is worth a dozen weak people ...
However, the master of the once impregnable stronghold did not see the point in this - it is foolish to destroy the servants when you can get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Niyra brought elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of dwarfs and portals of movement. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a particle of divine blood flowing in the veins of Artsius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in storage will be a nice addition to the main prize.
Arcius folded his arms across his chest and took a step behind the parapet of the tower, grinning - the weak magicians of the people did not master levitation. Flying around a graceful spire created by a long-vanished race of lizards, the archmage noted the broken lines of protective runes and streaks of metal - the results of shelling with a new weapon. The damage healed itself and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical shape of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but the enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they had nothing of the kind.
The dome sparkled with iridescent flashes, absorbing alien magic. Enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. From time to time, catapults of gnomes and magical throwers of elves were triggered, throwing out alchemical charges, but protective weaves destroyed them even in flight. Counteracting such simple attacks was not difficult - the enemy acted in a straightforward and predictable manner, depleting the Citadel's stores. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptied, but now it didn't matter ...
Three thousand years ago, the Great Magicians destroyed Tazrai, the last god of the Primordial World. One of them was Artsius, who, like all the conquerors, received a particle of the highest essence. After that, everything changed a lot - the peace treaty was violated, and the incessant wars of the Great Magicians halved the population. And the planet itself was now revolving around the star, having an eternal day in one hemisphere and an endless night in the other. And only magic allowed the rulers to maintain life in their lands ...
The rivals did not hide - Suel launched fireballs, and Niyra occasionally attacked with branchy lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Mage - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who raised new warriors from the dead - the forces of the Alliance regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. With local portals, Khadim, with varying success, threw combat troops under the dome.
Dark-skinned teenagers muttered, waving their arms over the bodies of elves and humans. It's a pity that the gnomes were busy with their cars and did not climb into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugrs. Despite the efforts of the servants, the defenders' army was melting faster than the reinforcements arrived, attacks in the last hours following one another. The Alliance was ready to pay any price for victory - after all, each of the Great Mages deeply does not care about the lives of their fighters.
The Lord froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He disliked ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The walls of dark metal gleamed faintly, but the faint light of their delicate eyes did not bother him. Artsius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was found in one of the fortress's caches when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use their original language, so it was difficult to understand their writing. It is likely that the simultaneous discharge of all crystals will allow the drawing to be filled with Power, throwing the owner into one of the closed worlds. Well, or just make a big explosion, which is also not bad - in any case, the enemies will not know what awaits them until the last moment.
The black metal of the floor was adorned with the finishing lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, once elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental command, the dead servants dragged the massive throne into the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the store and think carefully about what to take with you. Near the racks of weapons from some unknown world, Artsius paused briefly. No - it is foolish to count on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is not known whether they will act where the forgotten ritual throws him. In any case, such weapons were useless in the Primordial World.
The lord put on the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts criss-crossing on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The archmage has implanted drives that are an order of magnitude more powerful into his body, however, such help will be useful. On a black overalls, the product of ancient craftsmen looked somewhat clumsy, but it did its job perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and constraining movement of metal armor, the artifact acted far more efficiently - the powerful body was surrounded by the haze of a force screen.
Smiling, the archmage hung a saber in a simple sheath on his belt - it was this ghostly blade that dealt the decisive blow, destroying the incarnation of the god. A shoulder bag made of sturdy dragonscale completed the outfit - a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts fit inside. Now Artsius looked no different from the wandering mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - so far from the Primordial World the archmage had not yet climbed. It will not work to hide in neighboring worlds - he will simply not be allowed to open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in the construction of negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the veil set by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - the local portals that penetrated the shields were unknown to Artsius himself.
Having taken a place on the throne, the overlord ordered to remove the protective screens, depicting their overload. He enjoyed himself for a while, commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one, which included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflecting field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The Long-Ears showered the draugr with a rain of arrows, some tore apart the target on impact. It looks like the gnomes have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, every recipe quickly found opposition, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous to the owner.
So one of the Great Magicians died, who was foolish enough to drag an artifact from some distant world to his lair. Artsius remembered his ravings about ships plowing through the void and powerful weapons firing with pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by the divine blood ...
For some time Artsius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, who devoted himself to the fire element. A blazing rain rained down on the force shield and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ash under powerful blows - it was soon all over. Things were a little better in other places - the forces of the defenders were melting and, finally, the detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. There was a fierce battle, but before the last draugr fell, Artsius saw two Great Mages.
Suel usually portrayed a gray-bearded old man in front of people, and Niyra chose the guise of an eternally young elf. Warriors lined up around the leaders; each has good armor and a long sword, reinforced with weak elemental weaves.
The elf bent over the fallen, spending no more than a couple of moments on each. Some rose and staggered to stand in line - for the Great Magician with a particle of divine blood, resurrection was a difficult, but doable task.
The archmage suppressed a smile, noticing Suel's lack of weapons. He was dressed in a snow-white robe, under which it is difficult to hide something serious. Niyra wore a weightless cape sparkling with silver, leaving her left chest exposed. A living wreath set off the elf's red hair. On her hip was only a short sword in a simple sheath - more a symbol of power than a fighting instrument. Great sorcerers are accustomed to relying on art, not weapons - this is what Artsius counted on.
Nobody knew what Khadim looked like - he never left his flying fortress. Even now, when the forces of the Alliance actually triumphed, the Great Mage did not dare to bring the golden pyramid of heavenly metal closer. Khadim was expecting surprises, and the archmage did not disappoint him.
The artifact, which the lord had been working on recently, was triggered - the main square of the Citadel was flooded with a lake of seething darkness. Enemy magicians did not allow him to crawl, but hundreds of people and elves could no longer be helped - the enemies writhed in terrible agony, being consumed by the darkness alive.
The great magicians were surrounded by protective spheres, and a careless wave of the old man's hand dispelled the remnants of the poisonous mist. Arcius did not pull, throwing open the doors of the hall and sending a stream of blackness from a thin rod at the elf. In fact, he knew that such nonsense of the Great Magicians was impossible to penetrate, but the lack of resistance would look suspicious.
- It will be over soon! - Niyra said in a chant, beating off the magic charge.
- Toys ... Our black friend has always loved things from other worlds. You should have come up with something else, - stated Suel. - Where is that weapon that you bought from the merchants?
“It doesn't work here,” the archmage answered indifferently. - Why did the third one decide to intervene?
“The fact that my Citadel is in the Twilight Reach does not mean anything,” Arcius responded, making himself more comfortable on the throne, “and your skin color was not always the same as it is now ...
- Enough! The great magician held out his palm demandingly. - Give your share of the legacy and get out!
- You own the same - like the rest! Why do you still need divine blood? The sovereign asked for order, knowing the answer.
- The best will get it! - answered Niyra, smoothly circling the ranks of the soldiers. - Now this is their world! Humans, elves and gnomes: together we will correct the mistakes of the past ...
“You yourself know how it will end,” said Artsius. - Gods will not come out of you anyway. Then no!
“You chose your destiny,” Suel nodded grimly.
- And why are you dressed like that? - asked the girl, noticing the appearance of the archmage. - We will not fight you in a duel!
The great magician waved his hand in order. Chasing a step, people and elves in snow-white armor entered the hall, then two dwarf warriors clad in gray scales with complex mechanisms, similar to double-shot crossbows, appeared. The tips of the bolts glowed brightly, hinting at the built-in storage crystals - such ammunition the short men finished off the servant mages. Artsius's face flickered with panic, which was replaced by a malicious grin as both Great Mages followed the warriors.
The master did not waste time on meaningless conversations, pushing an inconspicuous lever with his foot. A massive slab slammed into the door, crushing two elves carrying the Alliance battle standards with a crunch. Now the main hall of the Citadel has become a trap for anyone unlucky enough to be inside.
The dwarves were the first to react, unloading their ridiculous weapon, - Artsius tilted his head to let the bolt pass, and burned the second in flight with a "fire spit". Subsequent shots passed by as the armor's protection kicked in, the shields deflecting magical projectiles.
Artsius slashed his blade across his palm, sending a trickle of blood into an inconspicuous hole in the sand. The warriors stepped to the throne in unison, drawing out their swords, but the leader's gesture stopped them.
- We are stronger than you! Suel shook his head. - Why all this?
“You’ll find out now,” the archmage chuckled, tossing the ghost blade into its sheath and forcing the wound to close.
"Portal of travel," Niyra realized as the lines of the drawing flickered in the air. - Stupid. Too big ... You don't think this will work, do you?
The scornful smile disappeared from the face of the elf - two powerful flashes flashed one after another behind the walls, but people could not cope with the obstacle. The citadel shook, and cracks ran like snakes across the dark metal of the walls - the third Great Magician stepped in.
Suel produced constructs and created weaving, trying to destroy the pattern, but it turned out badly for him - few people took ritual magic seriously. Indeed, in order to achieve the desired result, it was necessary to spend a huge amount of time building complex figures and filling them with Power.
- “Everything disintegrates and dies. Decline and decay - that's what awaits the Primordial World! Nothing lasts forever. Trying to fight this is pointless! " - The archmage shouted the activation key and burst out laughing.
The floor of the hall reared, and discharges crackled in the air - the fabric of the universe began to tear. Time obediently slowed down, and Artsius managed to see the metal of the walls of the main hall flowing down in streams and the blinding light outside.
There, the captive Force broke free - thousands of people, elves and dwarves died, swept away by a fiery whirlwind. The shields put up by the magicians did not last even a moment. The overloaded power screens of the flying fortress were extinguished, and an all-crushing flame struck the golden metal, evaporating the protective artifacts embedded in the armor ...
Where the spire of the Citadel had proudly pierced the clouds, a huge crater now gaped. At the edge of the hole, a pyramid that had collapsed from the sky froze, now looking like a twisted piece of metal. But the Great Magician was alive. Awe was frozen on his face - after all, not every younger god could do what Artsius had done.
Everything that fell within the scope of the portal figure was thrown into the blackness of interreality. Warriors writhed in agony - mail and helmets melted, and the bodies of men and elves quickly decayed. The gnomes lasted the longest - enchanted armor for some time resisted the effects of the all-pervading blackness.
The figures of Suel and Niira shimmered with a web of protective spheres, exactly the same as that surrounded Artsius - after all, only so strong magicians can move between distant worlds.
Gradually, everything else, absorbed by timelessness, disappeared. There were only three glittering spheres hanging in the void now. The archmage was still laughing as the protective shields burst, and the darkness gave way to a blinding explosion of transition.
Suel was on all fours and shaking his head - the journey took all the powers of the Great Magician. The rival did not use the storage crystals and was not at all ready for what would end up in a closed world.
Artsius felt a little better - he did not see the usual flows of energies, and his reserve was almost completely exhausted. The two large storage stones in the bag were half empty, but the overlord did not count on their help. It remains to be seen how high art works here.
Niyra recovered first and tried to attack with air magic. But instead of a branching discharge, only a faint spark escaped from the tip of the sword.
- This is a closed world! .. - the girl whispered in shock.
- I know! - answered the archmage, swinging his saber. “The magic is weak here. Well, or it does not act as we expect ... I'm ready for this, but you ... I doubt very much!
Thin fingers still gripped the hilt of the sword as the severed hand fell under the feet of the screeching elf. The next attack reached the target, ripping open the snow-white robe on the chest. Artsius launched two more swift attacks, then took a step back, contemplating the result curiously. Niyra didn’t scream anymore - the red liquid was spurting out of her cut throat. The wounds were closing quickly, but the archmage was not going to wait. He thought that even a particle of divine blood does not guarantee survival in a closed world, and then with one precise movement he separated the elf's head from her body.
The protective shield of the armor flashed and went out - it was Suel who released "fiery spit" into the back of the archmage. A few red-hot spray hit the mark, but Artsius only grimaced in displeasure - the burned skin regenerated faster than the rips in the elven overalls were closing. The enemy put the rest of his strength into the elemental form, but the effect of it was not at all the same as in the Primordial World.
- Wait! I admit - I was wrong! We can agree ... - Suel whispered, thrusting his hand into the folds of his robe.
The great magician already knew that he had lost - fear splashed in his eyes, but Artsius did not enjoy the moment. A shimmering blade flashed, and Suel ceased to exist.
- Welcome to the closed world! - said the winner, looking after the flown off gray-haired head.
Arcius weaved the particles of divine essence from the defeated rivals. The precious liquid hung like a black drop over his palm. Any reasonable person would give everything to gain incredible power, but for the archmage himself, divine blood was useless. The precious substance slowly evaporated, so the winner was going to endow the future servants with the gift. In the Primordial World, this would have been enough for a hundred mortals to become magicians, but here ... it will be revealed soon!
Trying to collect the elusive crumbs of energy, Artsius began to examine the surroundings. And he didn't like what he saw. The local luminary stood at its zenith, which irritated the sensitive eyes of those who had managed to get used to the eternal twilight of the Primordial World. The air was unexpectedly fresh and pleasant - the sense of smell was distinguished by hundreds of unusual aromas.
Apparently, the locals did not develop high art - a mechanism with spread wings, like a dragon, flew in the sky. And on the horizon were several lattice masts of unknown purpose. Residents do not lack resources - very good. It seems that this world never knew gods - Artsius did not feel their attention. But the emanations of a large number of sentient beings nearby were clearly felt - tens ... no, hundreds of thousands!
It looks like he was lucky to be near a major city or even a capital. Well, it's time to acquire loyal servants - a dozen magicians will be enough for a start. Based on the flying machines, this world is inhabited by gnomes. Arcius had already seen similar man-made dragons - they had pipes belching soot on their backs. Only bearded minions, devoid of magic, can think of this.
For these creatures, Artsius felt deep sympathy - after all, from the dead short ones excellent draugrs were obtained. Strong, hardy and fast warriors who are difficult to hit with an arrow or weave. A large army of such - just what is needed to conquer the whole world!
2
Gleb sadly snapped his fingers on the curved handle of the metal detector - it looked like the Chinese product had died. A second-hand Garrett — the best friend of the treasure hunter and the trophy hunter — hadn't been a problem up to this point.
Having pulled out four finger batteries, Gleb walked to the UAZ car standing in the bushes. There was a pack of batteries in the glove compartment, but they lasted exactly ten seconds of operation. The device passed out with a sad squeak.
- "Huan-shun". The name corresponds to the quality. Probably in Chinese it means bullshit! - suggested Gleb, examining the label. - It turns out that the batteries are also rotten. Well, time to pick up a shovel!
He wished he had bought a second set of decent batteries. Usually the first was enough for a long time. Several pegs stuck in the ground marked the places where there might be something interesting. Actually, they should have been checked last, by driving the device with a different coil ...
Gleb shook his head warily - it looks like the army team suddenly decided to hold an exercise. An abandoned landfill, which was ten kilometers away, was not interested in the warrior until recently. This area, surrounded by a flimsy barbed wire fence with rusty plaques, could only be formally considered a landfill. It seems that the locals even set up cannabis plantations there - the villagers strongly recommended staying away from this place. And somewhere nearby there was a community of some sectarians - either Mormons or Eighth-day Adventists ... Gleb did not understand this well.
A loud clap, similar to a distant explosion, and the subsequent peals of thunder were no longer repeated, so the young man decided to continue what he had begun. It seems that the soldiers' enthusiasm has dried up (or the ammunition intended for disposal has dried up) - after all, judging by the sounds, something serious has exploded there ...
- That's okay! - commented the young man. - Make love Not War! Shoot - and that's enough! Why burn diesel fuel when you can sell it?
Gleb did not like the military, especially because they wanted to limit his freedom and erase from life at least a year. For some reason, the military registration and enlistment office did not want to wait until the young man received a higher education - apparently, the country needed soldiers more than engineers. Gleb was not going to learn how to walk in formation and fill his bed, because he did not see any further application of these useful skills. And the young man was not eager to participate in "peacekeeping operations".
At first, annoying "little green men" tried to catch the evader, but he did not appear at the place of registration. The summons came where the addressee was absent. What happened to them later, the young man did not know, but he guessed that the "pieces of paper of happiness" went straight to the trash can.
Among the people in uniform there were also those who could benefit, but this is rather an exception to the rule. Like a cunning ensign - the seller of accountable property. Gleb quite successfully acquired a UAZ-469 from this dealer from conservation, on which he made forays into nature. The second UAZ was bought for spare parts and could not drive itself - its disassembled skeleton stood in the aunt's shed along with other military junk. There were also a dozen titanium shovels - they were a nice bonus. The young man believed that they would be enough for a long time - while he used one.
An incomplete higher education, six months of work as an installation technician, a driver's license and practice in a car service - these are all Gleb's achievements by the age of twenty-five.
A few acquaintances considered him an extremely asocial type - the young man did not officially work, did not pay taxes and considered himself free from any obligations to the state. He did not make ambitious plans - there was enough odd income and income from an unusual hobby for life, clothes, food and entertainment.
Gleb did not want to shift papers in the office or stand behind the counter. And he liked the free schedule more than the eight-hour working day five times a week. Gleb quickly realized that it was better to work for himself and not for his “uncle”. The young man did not refuse any "hack-work" and did not feel a lack of funds - those who can work with their hands will not be left without a piece of bread and butter. He had no bad habits, he had a very negative attitude to cigarettes and beer. I did not visit the gym, did not jog in the morning, but work in the fresh air and a healthy diet allowed me not to think about sores.
Gleb's only relative was his aunt, whom he once planted money with. For this, a harmful woman invented various offensive nicknames for her nephew - most often Gleb heard: "Twenty-five years old - no mind", "Oryasina" and "grave digger." Although there were grounds for the last nickname - it was really stupid to drag home the skull of a "Hans" who had perished in a foreign land. On the advice of a medical student, the young man boiled the trophy all night in a saucepan of borscht. The aunt, who discovered the skull early in the morning, then stuttered for a week and drank drops. After this incident, relations with a distant relative were completely ruined, and the neighbors began to look askance at the young man.
But the gift was a success - now Gleb was living with a friend who was obsessed with vampires, Japanese cartoons and a bespectacled boy flying on a broomstick. True, a week later the skull was hidden in the closet - the girl quickly lost interest in black magic. The friend also had other oddities - at first she called her roommate Shinji, and in addition, she kept an extremely ugly cat named Schrodinger at home. Gleb got used to this parrot name, and his partner - to the frequent "business trips" of his chosen one.
Gleb was looking for things left on the battlefield. For two years, many objects passed through his hands, among which occasionally came across valuable ones. At first, the young man ransacked abandoned villages with a mine detector, but the "exhaust" from such an occupation was small. But flasks, helmets and badges went to buyers and collectors, including foreign ones. After all, a huge number of people were ready to pay good money for the echo of the past war ...
Half a day spent in the wilderness of Smolensk brought only disappointment. Once upon a time at the edge of the forest there were several dugouts and dugouts - Gleb could only guess who had lived there before. The owners left a lot of rubbish, the belonging of which was difficult to determine. For this I had to shovel a couple of acres of land.
- The life of a simple metalworker is hard and unsightly! - Gleb grunted, casting a glance at the piece of tarpaulin where the finds were laid out. One old iron - mine shanks, a scattering of cartridges, the lid of some box with an inscription worn out by time.
A couple of rusty German carbines with decayed butts had to be buried in the same place where they were found. The young man did not touch the remains of the fighters, taking only posthumous medallions. He gave the extremely rare cases with decayed pieces of paper inside, which were worn by the Red Army, to the search engines. But German tokens were valuable. There were resources in the global network where the rich relatives of the "Hans" who perished in the battles of World War II paid good money for oval plaques with embossed numbers and information where they were found. It's a pity that nothing like this happened today.
Pulling out the phone, Gleb was surprised - there was no signal from the cellular network, and everything else the battery charge dropped to half. Putting the headset pads into his ears, the young man heard powerful guitar riffs - it's more fun to work with such music.
- That's it! Yesterday I fully charged my mobile phone ... - Gleb shook his head.
One dead, the other halved energy source is hardly a coincidence. It would be frustrating if the same thing happened to your car battery. The Crooked Starter was in the trunk along with a bunch of other useful parts, but starting the UAZ engine in this way was not fun for weaklings.
Gleb promised himself that he would finally buy a portable solar battery, which the Chinese have learned to do. Still, it is unpleasant to be left without electricity - it is now about twenty kilometers to the nearest village, but sometimes the excavations took place much further from civilization.
The young man had heard of ammunition knocking out electronics. However, he did not take this information seriously - bourgeois HAARP antennas, "tar" colliders, aliens from the planet Nibiru ... Tales for idiots! And who needs to test new weapons in the Smolensk wilderness?
The archmage watched the siege of the stronghold with indifference. The rampart, arcing around the high walls, grew higher every day. From the highest point of the Citadel, the Alliance warriors looked like multi-colored ants, of which there were too many. Actually, they were ants - the people swarming below, dwarves and elves were much weaker than the draugr protecting the stronghold. Among this rabble were huge war beasts, packs of demons, as well as detachments of mechanical warriors and elementals - apparently, one of the Great Magicians was able to drag them from neighboring worlds.
Artsius could easily have crushed any of the powerful rivals one by one, but time is lost. He could throw all his strength into one furious attack and - very likely - even destroy half of the combined army. After all, there is still enough energy in the accumulators of the Citadel, and the draugrs are ideal warriors, and each is worth a dozen weak people ...
However, the master of the once impregnable stronghold did not see the point in this - it is foolish to destroy the servants when you can get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Niyra brought elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of dwarfs and portals of movement. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a particle of divine blood flowing in the veins of Artsius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in storage will be a nice addition to the main prize.
Arcius folded his arms across his chest and took a step behind the parapet of the tower, grinning - the weak magicians of the people did not master levitation. Flying around a graceful spire created by a long-vanished race of lizards, the archmage noted the broken lines of protective runes and streaks of metal - the results of shelling with a new weapon. The damage healed itself and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical shape of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but the enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they had nothing of the kind.
The dome sparkled with iridescent flashes, absorbing alien magic. Enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. From time to time, catapults of gnomes and magical throwers of elves were triggered, throwing out alchemical charges, but protective weaves destroyed them even in flight. Counteracting such simple attacks was not difficult - the enemy acted in a straightforward and predictable manner, depleting the Citadel's stores. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptied, but now it didn't matter ...
Three thousand years ago, the Great Magicians destroyed Tazrai, the last god of the Primordial World. One of them was Artsius, who, like all the conquerors, received a particle of the highest essence. After that, everything changed a lot - the peace treaty was violated, and the incessant wars of the Great Magicians halved the population. And the planet itself was now revolving around the star, having an eternal day in one hemisphere and an endless night in the other. And only magic allowed the rulers to maintain life in their lands ...
The rivals did not hide - Suel launched fireballs, and Niyra occasionally attacked with branchy lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Mage - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who raised new warriors from the dead - the forces of the Alliance regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. With local portals, Khadim, with varying success, threw combat troops under the dome.
Dark-skinned teenagers muttered, waving their arms over the bodies of elves and humans. It's a pity that the gnomes were busy with their cars and did not climb into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugrs. Despite the efforts of the servants, the defenders' army was melting faster than the reinforcements arrived, attacks in the last hours following one another. The Alliance was ready to pay any price for victory - after all, each of the Great Mages deeply does not care about the lives of their fighters.
The Lord froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He disliked ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The walls of dark metal gleamed faintly, but the faint light of their delicate eyes did not bother him. Artsius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was found in one of the fortress's caches when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use their original language, so it was difficult to understand their writing. It is likely that the simultaneous discharge of all crystals will allow the drawing to be filled with Power, throwing the owner into one of the closed worlds. Well, or just make a big explosion, which is also not bad - in any case, the enemies will not know what awaits them until the last moment.
The black metal of the floor was adorned with the finishing lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, once elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental command, the dead servants dragged the massive throne into the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the store and think carefully about what to take with you. Near the racks of weapons from some unknown world, Artsius paused briefly. No - it is foolish to count on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is not known whether they will act where the forgotten ritual throws him. In any case, such weapons were useless in the Primordial World.
The lord put on the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts criss-crossing on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The archmage has implanted drives that are an order of magnitude more powerful into his body, however, such help will be useful. On a black overalls, the product of ancient craftsmen looked somewhat clumsy, but it did its job perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and constraining movement of metal armor, the artifact acted far more efficiently - the powerful body was surrounded by the haze of a force screen.
Smiling, the archmage hung a saber in a simple sheath on his belt - it was this ghostly blade that dealt the decisive blow, destroying the incarnation of the god. A shoulder bag made of sturdy dragonscale completed the outfit - a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts fit inside. Now Artsius looked no different from the wandering mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - so far from the Primordial World the archmage had not yet climbed. It will not work to hide in neighboring worlds - he will simply not be allowed to open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in the construction of negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the veil set by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - the local portals that penetrated the shields were unknown to Artsius himself.
Having taken a place on the throne, the overlord ordered to remove the protective screens, depicting their overload. He enjoyed himself for a while, commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one, which included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflecting field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The Long-Ears showered the draugr with a rain of arrows, some tore apart the target on impact. It looks like the gnomes have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, every recipe quickly found opposition, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous to the owner.
So one of the Great Magicians died, who was foolish enough to drag an artifact from some distant world to his lair. Artsius remembered his ravings about ships plowing through the void and powerful weapons firing with pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by the divine blood ...
For some time Artsius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, who devoted himself to the fire element. A blazing rain rained down on the force shield and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ash under powerful blows - it was soon all over. Things were a little better in other places - the forces of the defenders were melting and, finally, the detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. There was a fierce battle, but before the last draugr fell, Artsius saw two Great Mages.
