Alex Chizhovsky read online point omega. Omega point. Alex ChizhovskyPoint Omega
Alex Chizhovsky
Omega point
The archmage indifferently watched the siege of the stronghold. The shaft, arcing around the high walls, became 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, gnomes and elves swarming below were much weaker than the draugr defending the stronghold. Among this rabble one could see 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 in from neighboring worlds.
Arcius would have easily crushed any of his powerful rivals one by one, but time was running out. 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 Citadel’s storage tanks, and the draugr 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 was stupid to destroy servants when you could get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Nyira brought the elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of the gnomes and portals of travel. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a piece of the divine blood flowing in the veins of Arcius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in vaults will be a pleasant addition to the main prize.
With his hands folded across his chest, Arcius took a step beyond the parapet of the tower, grinning - weak human magicians have never mastered levitation. Flying around the elegant 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 on its own and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical outline of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but its enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they didn’t have anything like that.
The dome sparkled with rainbow flashes, absorbing other people's magic. The enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. Occasionally, the catapults of the dwarves and the magical throwers of the elves would fire, throwing out alchemical charges, but the protective weaving would destroy them while still in flight. It was not difficult to counter such simple attacks - the enemy acted straightforwardly and predictably, depleting the Citadel's storage tanks. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptying, 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 Arcius, who, like all winners, received a piece 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 now revolved around the star, having eternal day in one hemisphere and 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 Nyira occasionally attacked with branched lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Magician - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The Archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who raised new warriors from the dead - the Alliance forces regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. Khadim used local portals to throw combat troops under the dome with varying degrees of success.
The dark-skinned teenagers muttered as they waved their arms over the bodies of the elves and humans. It’s a pity that the gnomes were fiddling with their cars and didn’t get into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugr. Despite the efforts of the servants, the army of defenders dwindled faster than replacements arrived - attacks followed one after another in the last hours. 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 ruler froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He didn't like ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The dark metal walls flickered faintly, but their weak light did not cause any discomfort to the owner’s sensitive eyes. Arcius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was discovered in one of the fortress’s hiding places when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use the 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 create 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 decorated with the final lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, who had once been elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental order, the dead servants dragged the massive throne to the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the storage facility and think carefully about what to take with you. Arcius paused briefly near the racks of weapons from some unknown world. No - it is foolish to rely on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is unknown whether they will act where the forgotten ritual takes him. In any case, such weapons turned out to be useless in the Primordial World.
The Lord dressed himself in the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts crossed on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The Archmage has implanted drives into his body that are an order of magnitude more powerful, but such help will still be useful. On the black overalls, the product of the ancient masters looked somewhat clumsy, but it served its purpose perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and restrictive movement of metal armor, the artifact was much more effective - 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 durable dragon scales completed the outfit, containing a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts. Now Arcius looked no different from the traveling mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - the archmage had never gone so far from the Primordial World. He won't be able to hide in neighboring worlds - they simply won't let him open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in constructing negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the curtain put up by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - local portals that penetrate under shields were unknown to Arcius himself.
The archmage indifferently watched the siege of the stronghold. The shaft, arcing around the high walls, became 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, gnomes and elves swarming below were much weaker than the draugr defending the stronghold. Among this rabble could be seen 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.
Arcius would have easily crushed any of his powerful rivals one by one, but time was running out. 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 Citadel’s storage tanks, and the draugr 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 was stupid to destroy servants when you could get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Nyira brought the elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of the gnomes and portals of travel. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a piece of the divine blood flowing in the veins of Arcius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in vaults will be a pleasant addition to the main prize.
With his hands folded across his chest, Arcius took a step beyond the parapet of the tower, grinning - weak human magicians have never mastered levitation. Flying around the elegant 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 on its own and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical outline of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but its enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they didn’t have anything like that.
The dome sparkled with rainbow flashes, absorbing other people's magic. The enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. Occasionally, the catapults of the dwarves and the magical throwers of the elves would fire, throwing out alchemical charges, but the protective weaving would destroy them while still in flight. It was not difficult to counter such simple attacks - the enemy acted straightforwardly and predictably, depleting the Citadel's storage tanks. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptying, 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 Arcius, who, like all winners, received a piece 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 now revolved around the star, having eternal day in one hemisphere and 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 Nyira occasionally attacked with branched lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Magician - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The Archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who were raising new warriors from the dead - the Alliance forces regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. Khadim used local portals to throw combat troops under the dome with varying degrees of success.
The dark-skinned teenagers muttered as they waved their arms over the bodies of the elves and humans. It’s a pity that the gnomes were fiddling with their cars and didn’t get into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugr. Despite the efforts of the servants, the army of defenders was dwindling faster than replacements arrived - attacks followed one after another in the last hours. 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 ruler froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He didn't like ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The dark metal walls flickered faintly, but their weak light did not cause any discomfort to the owner’s sensitive eyes. Arcius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was discovered in one of the fortress’s hiding places when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use the 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 create 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 decorated with the final lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, who had once been elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental order, the dead servants dragged the massive throne to the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the storage facility and think carefully about what to take with you. Arcius paused briefly near the racks of weapons from some unknown world. No - it is foolish to rely on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is unknown whether they will act where the forgotten ritual takes him. In any case, such weapons turned out to be useless in the Primordial World.
The Lord dressed himself in the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts crossed on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The Archmage has implanted drives into his body that are an order of magnitude more powerful, but such help will still be useful. On the black overalls, the product of the ancient masters looked somewhat clumsy, but it served its purpose perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and restrictive movement of metal armor, the artifact was much more effective - 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 durable dragon scales completed the outfit, containing a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts. Now Arcius looked no different from the traveling mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - the archmage had never gone so far from the Primordial World. He won’t be able to hide in neighboring worlds; they simply won’t let him open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in constructing negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the curtain put up by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - local portals that penetrate under shields were unknown to Arcius himself.
Taking his place on the throne, the ruler ordered the removal of the protective screens, pretending to be overloaded. He amused himself for some time by commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one that included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflective field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The Long Ears showered the draugr with a shower of arrows, some tearing apart their target upon impact. It looks like the dwarves have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, each recipe quickly had a countermeasure, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous for the owner.
This is how one of the Great Magicians died, who was stupid enough to sneak an artifact from some distant world into his lair. Arcius remembered his nonsense about ships plowing the void and powerful weapons shooting pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by divine blood...
For some time, Arcius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, devoting himself to the element of fire. The flaming rain fell on the force screen, and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ashes under the mighty blows - soon it was all over. The situation was little better in other places - the forces of the defenders melted away and, finally, detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. A fierce fight broke out there, but before the last draugr fell, Arcius saw two Great Magicians.
Omega point
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Name: Omega Point
About the book “Omega Point” by Alex Chizhovsky
Magic exists. Gleb learned this the hard way when he became a student of an alien from the Primordial World. True, the guest did not like it here, and the earthlings are not too happy about the one whose combat magic is much stronger than machine guns, tanks and airplanes.
Now bandits, military and intelligence agencies are hunting for the student. It's okay: he knows the path to real power. Artifacts and magical creatures await him - useful and not so useful. He has a goal, and if this means going to another world, Gleb will do it without hesitation.
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1
The archmage indifferently watched the siege of the stronghold. The shaft, arcing around the high walls, became 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, gnomes and elves swarming below were much weaker than the draugr defending the stronghold. Among this rabble could be seen 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.
Arcius would have easily crushed any of his powerful rivals one by one, but time was running out. 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 Citadel’s storage tanks, and the draugr 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 was stupid to destroy servants when you could get to the owners. Suel patronized people who were short-lived and weak. Nyira brought the elves into this world, and Khadim was in charge of the gnomes and portals of travel. Surely one of the leaders will be the first to want to receive a piece of the divine blood flowing in the veins of Arcius. Powerful artifacts, storage crystals and curiosities that have accumulated in vaults will be a pleasant addition to the main prize.
With his hands folded across his chest, Arcius took a step beyond the parapet of the tower, grinning - weak human magicians have never mastered levitation. Flying around the elegant 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 on its own and did not require intervention. The asymmetrical outline of the Citadel resembled a beautiful black flower, but its enemies considered it ugly. Of course, out of envy - after all, they didn’t have anything like that.
The dome sparkled with rainbow flashes, absorbing other people's magic. The enemies again failed to break through the multi-layered shields covering the Citadel. Occasionally, the catapults of the dwarves and the magical throwers of the elves would fire, throwing out alchemical charges, but the protective weaving would destroy them while still in flight. It was not difficult to counter such simple attacks - the enemy acted straightforwardly and predictably, depleting the Citadel's storage tanks. The crystals were slowly and inevitably emptying, 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 Arcius, who, like all winners, received a piece 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 now revolved around the star, having eternal day in one hemisphere and 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 Nyira occasionally attacked with branched lightning. The flying fortress, hovering like a speck on the horizon, belonged to the third Great Magician - the cautious Khadim preferred to watch others fight.
The Archmage nodded approvingly to the servants who were raising new warriors from the dead - the Alliance forces regularly supplied the defenders of the Citadel with them. Khadim used local portals to throw combat troops under the dome with varying degrees of success.
The dark-skinned teenagers muttered as they waved their arms over the bodies of the elves and humans. It’s a pity that the gnomes were fiddling with their cars and didn’t get into the front rows - these stocky freaks made good draugr. Despite the efforts of the servants, the army of defenders was dwindling faster than replacements arrived - attacks followed one after another in the last hours. 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 ruler froze in front of the door to the main hall, and the massive doors obediently opened. He didn't like ritual magic, but now there was no other choice. The dark metal walls flickered faintly, but their weak light did not cause any discomfort to the owner’s sensitive eyes. Arcius set to work, putting the finishing touches on the drawing.
A book describing the ritual was discovered in one of the fortress’s hiding places when the archmage captured it. The disappeared owners did not use the 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 create 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 decorated with the final lines of a portal figure, and two skinny draugr, who had once been elves, hastened to cover the masterpiece with gray sand. Obeying the master's mental order, the dead servants dragged the massive throne to the center of the hall.
Now you should visit the storage facility and think carefully about what to take with you. Arcius paused briefly near the racks of weapons from some unknown world. No - it is foolish to rely on wands that shoot poisoned needles and small pieces of metal. It is unknown whether they will act where the forgotten ritual takes him. In any case, such weapons turned out to be useless in the Primordial World.
The Lord dressed himself in the best armor, consisting of a pair of wide belts crossed on the chest with hundreds of tiny crystals. The Archmage has implanted drives into his body that are an order of magnitude more powerful, but such help will still be useful. On the black overalls, the product of the ancient masters looked somewhat clumsy, but it served its purpose perfectly. In contrast to the heavy and restrictive movement of metal armor, the artifact was much more effective - 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 durable dragon scales completed the outfit, containing a thin stack of books and a couple of the best storage artifacts. Now Arcius looked no different from the traveling mercenaries.
He admitted that the transition could be extremely dangerous - the archmage had never gone so far from the Primordial World. He won’t be able to hide in neighboring worlds; they simply won’t let him open a portal there. One of the enemies has achieved significant success in constructing negators - artifacts that neutralize other people's magic. It was not possible to break through the curtain put up by the enemy. Khadim came up with something special - local portals that penetrate under shields were unknown to Arcius himself.
Taking his place on the throne, the ruler ordered the removal of the protective screens, pretending to be overloaded. He amused himself for some time by commanding troops of draugr. Particularly successful was the one that included four of the best mage-servants - they held the reflective field while the dead warriors exterminated people and elves. The Long Ears showered the draugr with a shower of arrows, some tearing apart their target upon impact. It looks like the dwarves have come up with another alchemical mixture. Usually, each recipe quickly had a countermeasure, and modified shields made such weapons meaningless and dangerous for the owner.
This is how one of the Great Magicians died, who was stupid enough to sneak an artifact from some distant world into his lair. Arcius remembered his nonsense about ships plowing the void and powerful weapons shooting pure energy. After an impressive explosion, the experimenter himself turned into pure energy, who was not saved from disincarnation by divine blood...
For some time, Arcius believed that the detachment would be able to get to one of the leaders, but Suel intervened, devoting himself to the element of fire. The flaming rain fell on the force screen, and it went out. Servants and dead warriors quickly turned to ashes under the mighty blows - soon it was all over. The situation was little better in other places - the forces of the defenders melted away and, finally, detachments of people and elves approached the Citadel itself. A fierce fight broke out there, but before the last draugr fell, Arcius saw two Great Magicians.
Suel usually portrayed a gray-bearded old man in front of people, and Nyira 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 one. Some stood up and, staggering, got into formation - for a Great Magician with a particle of divine blood, resurrection was a difficult, but feasible task.
The Archmage suppressed a smile when he noticed Suel's lack of weapons. He was dressed in a snow-white robe, under which it is difficult to hide something serious. Nyira wore a weightless cape sparkling with silver, leaving her left breast exposed. A living wreath set off the elf’s red hair. On her hip there was only a short sword in a simple sheath - more a symbol of power than a fighting instrument. Great magicians are accustomed to relying on art, and not on weapons - this is what Arcius was counting on.
Nobody knew what Khadim looked like - he never left his flying fortress. Even now, when the forces of the Alliance had actually won, the Great Magician did not dare to bring the golden pyramid made of celestial metal closer. Khadim was expecting surprises, and the archmage did not disappoint him.
The artifact that the ruler had been working on recently worked; the main square of the Citadel was filled with a lake of seething darkness. The enemy magicians did not allow him to crawl away, but nothing could be done to help hundreds of people and elves - the enemies were writhing in terrible agony, swallowed alive by the darkness.
The great magicians were surrounded by protective spheres, and a careless wave of the old man's hand dispelled the remnants of the poisonous fog. Arcius did not delay, opening the doors of the hall and launching a stream of blackness from a thin rod at the elf. In fact, he knew that it was impossible to fool the Great Magicians with such nonsense, but the lack of resistance would look suspicious.
- It will all be over soon! – Nyira intoned, deflecting a magical charge.
– Toys... Our black friend has always loved things from other worlds. You should have come up with something else,” Suel stated. – Where are the weapons that you bought from the merchants?
“It doesn’t work here,” the archmage answered indifferently. – Why did the third decide to intervene?
“The fact that my Citadel is located in the Twilight Reach does not mean anything,” responded Arcius, making himself more comfortable on the throne, “and the color of your skin was not always the same as it is now...”
- Enough! “The great magician extended his palm demandingly. – Give up your part of the inheritance and get out!
– You own one just like the others! Why else do you need divine blood? – for the sake of order, the overlord asked, knowing the answer.
- The best will get it! – Nyira answered, smoothly moving her hand around the rows of warriors. – Now this is their world! People, elves and gnomes: together we will correct the mistakes of the past...
“You know how this will end,” said Arcius. “You won’t make gods anyway.” Then no!
“You chose your fate,” Suel nodded gloomily.
- And why are you dressed up like that? – the girl asked, paying attention to the appearance of the archmage. - We will not fight you in a duel!
The great magician waved his hand, giving an order. With a measured step, people and elves in snow-white armor entered the hall, then two dwarf warriors clad in gray scales appeared with complex mechanisms similar to double-shot crossbows. The tips of the bolts glowed brightly, hinting at built-in storage crystals - with such ammunition the runts finished off the mage-servants. Arcius's face showed panic, which was replaced by a malicious grin as both Great Magicians followed the warriors.
The Lord did not waste time on meaningless conversations, pushing an inconspicuous lever with his foot. A massive slab crashed into the door, crushing two elves carrying 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 weapons - Arcius bowed his head, missing the bolt, and burned the second one in flight with a “fiery spit.” Subsequent shots missed as the armor's defenses kicked in and the shields deflected the magical projectiles.
Arcius slashed his blade across his palm, sending a stream of blood into an inconspicuous hole in the sand. The warriors stepped towards the throne in unison, drawing their swords, but the leader’s gesture stopped them.
- We are stronger than you! – Suel shook his head. - What is this all for?
“Now you’ll find out,” the archmage grinned, throwing the ghostly blade into its sheath and forcing the wound to close.
“A portal of travel,” Nyira realized as the lines of the design flickered in the air. - Stupid. Too big... You don't think this will work, do you?
The contemptuous smile disappeared from the elf’s face - two powerful flashes flashed behind the walls, one after the other, but the people were unable to cope with the obstacle. The citadel shook, and cracks ran like snakes along the dark metal of the walls - the third Great Magician entered into action.
Suel released constructs and created weaves, trying to destroy the pattern, but it turned out poorly for him - few people took ritual magic seriously. After all, 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 falls apart and dies. Decline and decay - that’s what awaits the Primordial World! Nothing lasts forever. There is no point in trying to fight this!” – The Archmage shouted out the activation key and laughed.
The floor of the hall heaved, and discharges crackled in the air - the fabric of the universe began to tear. Time obediently slowed down, and Arcius managed to see the metal of the walls of the main hall flowing 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 went out, and the all-crushing flame hit the golden metal, evaporating the protective artifacts embedded in the armor...
Where the spire of the Citadel had once proudly stuck into the clouds, there was now a huge crater. At the edge of the gap, a pyramid that had fallen from the sky froze, now looking like a twisted piece of metal. But the Great Magician was alive. Aweful horror froze on his face - after all, not every younger god could do what Arcius did.
Everything that came within the range of action of the portal figure was thrown out into the blackness of interreality. The warriors writhed in agony - their chain mail and helmets melted, and the bodies of people and elves quickly decayed. The dwarves held out the longest - their enchanted armor resisted the effects of the all-pervasive blackness for some time.
The figures of Suel and Nyira shimmered with a web of protective spheres, exactly the same as the one that surrounded Arcius - after all, this is the only way powerful magicians can move between distant worlds.
Gradually everything else disappeared, swallowed up by timelessness. Now only three sparkling spheres hung in the void. The archmage was still laughing when the protective screens burst and the darkness was replaced by a blinding explosion of the transition.
Suel stood on all fours and shook his head - the journey had taken all the strength from the Great Magician. The opponent did not use storage crystals and was completely unprepared for the fact that he would find himself in a closed world.
Arcius felt little better - he did not see the usual flows of energy, 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.
Nyira was the first to come to her senses and tried to attack with air magic. But instead of a branchy discharge, only a weak spark fell from the tip of the sword.
“This is a closed world!” the girl whispered in shock.
- I know! – answered the archmage, waving his saber. “The magic here is weak.” Well, or it doesn’t act the way we expect... I’m ready for this, but you... I really doubt it!
Thin fingers were still gripping the hilt of the sword when the severed hand fell at the feet of the screaming elf. The next attack reached its target, ripping open the snow-white robe on the chest. Arcius made two more rapid attacks, and then took a step back, examining the result with curiosity. Nyira was no longer screaming - scarlet liquid was spurting out from 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 did not guarantee survival in a closed world, and then with one precise movement he separated the elf’s head from her body.
The protective screen of the armor flared up and went out - it was Suel who released a “fiery spit” at the archmage’s back. Several hot splashes reached their target, but Arcius only winced in displeasure - the burnt skin was recovering faster than the holes in the elven overalls were being healed. The enemy put the rest of his strength into the elemental form, but the effect of it was completely different from that in the Primordial World.
- Wait! I admit - I was wrong! We can agree...” Suel whispered, putting his hand into the folds of his robe.
The great magician already realized that he had lost - fear splashed in his eyes, but Arcius did not enjoy the moment. The shimmering blade flashed, and Suel ceased to exist.
– Welcome to the closed world! - said the winner, following the flying gray-haired head with his gaze.
Arcius drew out particles of divine essence from his defeated opponents with a weave. The precious liquid hovered in a black drop over the palm. Any reasonable person would give anything to gain incredible power, but for the archmage himself, divine blood was useless. The precious substance slowly evaporated, so the winner was going to bestow the gift on future servants. In the Primordial World, this would be enough for a hundred mortals to become magicians, but here... it will soon become clear!
Trying to collect the elusive crumbs of energy, Arcius began to look around the surroundings. And he didn’t like what he saw at all. The local luminary stood at its zenith, which irritated the sensitive eyes of one who had become accustomed to the eternal twilight of the Primordial World. The air turned out to be unexpectedly fresh and pleasant - the sense of smell could distinguish hundreds of unusual aromas.
Apparently, the locals did not develop high art - a mechanism with outstretched wings, similar to a dragon, flew in the sky. And on the horizon could be seen several lattice masts of unknown purpose. Residents do not lack resources - very good. It seems that this world has never known gods - Arcius did not feel their attention. But the emanations of a large number of intelligent 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. Judging by the flying mechanisms, this world is inhabited by gnomes. Arcius had already seen similar man-made dragons - they had soot-belching pipes on their backs. Only bearded runts, devoid of magic, can think of such a thing.
Arcius felt deep sympathy for these creatures - after all, dead little ones made excellent draugr. Strong, resilient and fast warriors who are difficult to hit with an arrow or weave. A large army of these is just what is needed to conquer the whole world!
2
Gleb sadly clicked his fingers on the curved handle of the metal detector - it looked like the Chinese product had died. The used Garrett, the best friend of the treasure hunter and war trophy hunter, had not caused any problems up to this point.
Having pulled out four AA batteries, Gleb walked to the UAZ standing in the bushes. There was a pack of batteries in the glove compartment, but they only lasted for exactly ten seconds of operation. The device switched off, squeaking sadly.
- “Huan-shun.” The name matches the quality. This probably means bullshit in Chinese! – Gleb suggested, having studied the label. - It turns out that the batteries are also rotten. Well, it's time to pick up a shovel!
He regretted not buying a second set of decent batteries. Usually the first one lasted a long time. Several pegs stuck into the ground marked places where there might be something interesting. In fact, they should have been checked last, by running the device with a different coil...
Gleb shook his head warily - it looked like the army team had unexpectedly decided to organize an exercise. The abandoned training ground, which was located ten kilometers from here, was not of interest to the warriors until recently. This territory, surrounded by a flimsy barbed wire fence with rusty signs, could only be considered a training ground formally. It seems that the locals even set up hemp plantations there - the villagers strongly recommended staying away from this place. And somewhere nearby lived a community of some sectarians - either Mormons, or Eighth Day Adventists... Gleb didn’t understand this well.
The loud bang, like a distant explosion, and the subsequent peals of thunder were no longer repeated, so the young man decided to continue what he had started. It seems that the warrior’s enthusiasm has dried up (or the ammunition intended for disposal has run out) - after all, judging by the sounds, something serious exploded there...
- That's all right! – the young man commented. - Make love Not War! We shot – and that’s enough! Why burn diesel when you can sell it?
Gleb did not like the military - especially because they wanted to limit his freedom and erase him from his life for 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 did not intend to learn how to walk in formation correctly and make his bed, because he did not see any further application for these useful skills. And the young man had no desire to participate in “peacekeeping operations.”
At first, the annoying “little green men” tried to catch the evader, but he did not show up at the place of registration. Subpoenas arrived where the addressee was absent. The young man didn’t know what happened to them afterwards, but he guessed that the “pieces of happiness” went straight into the trash.
Among the people in uniform there were those who could be useful, but this is rather an exception to the rule. Like a cunning warrant officer - a seller of accountable property. Gleb quite successfully purchased a UAZ-469 from this businessman from conservation, in which he made forays into nature. The second UAZ was bought for spare parts and could not be driven by itself - its disassembled frame was in my aunt’s barn along with other military rubbish. There were also a dozen titanium shovels lying there - they were a nice bonus. The young man believed that they would last a long time - as long as 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 - that’s all of 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. I didn’t make ambitious plans - the odd jobs and income from an unusual hobby were enough for life, clothes, food and entertainment.
Gleb didn’t want to move papers in the office or stand behind the counter. And he liked the free schedule more than an 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 “hackwork” and did not experience a lack of funds - those who know how to work with their hands will not be left without a piece of bread and butter. He had no bad habits and had a very negative attitude towards cigarettes and beer. I didn’t go to the gym, I didn’t jog in the mornings, but working in the fresh air and eating healthy allowed me not to think about my illnesses.
Gleb’s only relative was his aunt, to whom he at one time gave money. For this, the harmful woman came up with various offensive nicknames for her nephew - most often Gleb heard: “Twenty-five years old - no mind,” “oryasina” and “grave digger.” Although there were reasons for the last nickname - dragging home the skull of “Hans” who perished in a foreign land was really stupid. On the advice of one medical student, the young man boiled the trophy all night in a borscht pan. The aunt who discovered the skull early in the morning then stuttered for a week and drank drops. After this incident, the relationship with the distant relative was completely ruined, and the neighbors began to look askance at the young man.
But the gift was a success - now Gleb lived with a friend who was obsessed with vampires, Japanese cartoons and a bespectacled boy flying on a broom. True, a week later the skull was hidden in a closet - the girl quickly lost interest in black magic. The friend had plenty of other oddities - at first she called her roommate Shinji, and in addition, she kept an extremely ugly cat at home named Schrödinger. Gleb is accustomed to this parrot name, and his partner is accustomed to the frequent “business trips” of his chosen one.
Gleb was looking for things left on the battlefields. Over the course of two years, many objects passed through his hands, including occasionally valuable ones. At first, the young man scoured abandoned villages with a mine detector, but the “exhaust” from such an activity 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 last war...
Half the day spent in the Smolensk wilderness brought only disappointment. Once on the edge of the forest there were several dugouts and dugouts - Gleb could only guess who lived there before. The owners left a lot of garbage, the identity of which was difficult to determine. For this I had to shovel a couple of hundred square meters of land.
– The life of a simple metalhead is hard and unsightly! - Gleb muttered, glancing at the piece of tarpaulin where the finds were laid out. One old piece of iron - the shanks of mines, a scattering of cartridges, the lid of some box with an inscription erased by time.
A couple of rusty German carbines with rotten butts had to be buried in the same place where they were discovered. The young man did not touch the remains of the fighters, taking only posthumous medallions. He gave extremely rare cases with decayed pieces of paper inside that were worn by Red Army soldiers to search engines. But the German tokens were valuable. There were resources on the global network where wealthy relatives of the “Hans” who died in the battles of World War II paid good money for oval plaques with stamped numbers and information about where they were found. It's a pity there was nothing like this today.
Pulling out his phone, Gleb was surprised - there was no signal from the cellular network, and on top of that, the battery charge had dropped to half. Having inserted the earpads of the headset into his ears, the young man heard powerful guitar riffs - it was 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 source of energy - this is hardly a coincidence. It will be unpleasant if the same thing happens to a car battery. The “crooked starter” was in the trunk along with a bunch of other useful spare parts, but starting the UAZ engine in this way is not fun for the weak.
Gleb promised himself that he would finally buy a portable solar battery, which the Chinese have learned to do. Still, it’s unpleasant to be left without electricity - now it’s almost twenty kilometers to the nearest village, but sometimes excavations took place much further from civilization.
The young man had heard about ammunition that disables electronics. However, he did not take this information seriously - bourgeois HAARP antennas, tar colliders, aliens from the planet Nibiru... Fairy 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 the bad language, a lot 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 an outcast who does not evoke any positive feelings in the reader. He's a redneck by nature. Having received the abilities, he goes “all bad”: he copies dollars, buys himself expensive clothes and gadgets, and exploits the people around him. At the same time, he does not have any thoughts, albeit typical of good guys, but very correct, like “with great power comes great responsibility.” Gleb is a consumer. He takes what he can and does not give anything in return, justifying himself by saying that the world is rotten, and around him there is solid consumer scum (while not for a second counting himself among them).
At the same time, Gleb does not feel any sympathy or pity when his teacher kills the next portion of people: be they Caucasians and their Russian girlfriends, thieves, visitors to shopping centers or conscripts. The only thing Gleb is worried about is that the murders will not be traced to them. How can such a hero evoke sympathy? Is it possible to sympathize with him? The only thing I wanted was for him to finally die. 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.”
Separately, I would 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 there are no other normal people there besides Gleb. But instead there are: bikers in horned helmets, Caucasians with shotguns, oligarchs with frostbitten security, prostitutes, drunks, homeless people, stupid informals, etc. I seriously didn't see a single other positive character in the entire book. Maybe only Gleb's girlfriend Lenka.
Lenka is a different story. This is the lamp cutie that a typical virgin imagines. Thin, small, without makeup, but still beautiful, with a rich inner world, an easy-going character, a slut in bed and modest 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 few words. Sometimes the author goes deep into the theory of military equipment or military operations, like an armchair expert, and sometimes he slides, as in the gangster novels of the nineties and zeros. It doesn't even smell like fantasy or science fiction. This is the story of how a simple and unremarkable young man of the consumer generation receives divine abilities and, based on his meager considerations, begins to use them for his own benefit. Something like the author’s sketch on the topic “What would I do if I became a god.” Of course, here there is not even a tenth of the depth and meaning that was in “It’s Hard to Be a God” by the Strugatskys. It’s easy for Gleb to be a god.
