* * *

  It had been almost two weeks, during which Stepan had managed to take three hundred levels, confirm the status of the archmage, gather a harem of two hundred and thirty vacancies, and sing Vysotsky at the royal ball. All right, seriously, the novice shaman for this time has become quite adept at working with his css, closely approaching the second level, working without rest. A clear understanding that he needed a fat reserve if he wanted to survive the probable winter and to train, made him silently get up and do, calls, think, and, of course, improvise. Every day, from the very morning, Stepan thanked Saint Random for having had the sense to choose among the list of knowledge his hermit-survivalist perk, accustomed to physical bor too, otherwise it would have been sad.

  The regur call brought experience, little by little, a little at a time, but bringing him to a new level and a new talent that would make him even a little stronger and better. And no blood, overpowering, mortal risk, and pathos victories from the st forces, though excessive, as to his taste, amount of simple and understandable hard work. And how much of that bor would have been, if it weren't for the magic gift and the system that helped him learn it incredibly quickly! Much, much more.

  A call to bind to the house a rather strong watchful spirit, which could drive away snakes, mosquitoes, ticks, and other bites. At the same time, warning of the approach of something big, especially if it cannot be driven away. One more call, which bound that very Bengal fire with a pact, putting it in a stone sprinkled with Stepan's blood, which could instantly glow, as burning kindling, and heat, or even boil the water, in which the stone is thrown (although the spirit liked it less, still a firebrand, it is unpleasant to him such a thing even for a fee). A small amulet made of a pebble picked up by a brook, which sanitizes the water from this brook and purifies it from all sorts of crap, for the sake of which he had to cut a bird caught in a snare over this piece of smoothly washed pebbles: the spirit was aquatic, but dark and ate impure things from any liquid. A few feathers were glued with pine resin, which hid the human odor from the beast. Another pebble, not from the brook, but dug out of the ground, so as not to rub the delicate city feet when walking in fantasy shoes.

  And this was only that which was connected with a permanent stay in work, in fact, a contract, while there were also regurly summoned spirits luring prey into a snare, looking for birds' and snakes' nests, helping to clean bloodstains from clothes, preventing food from spoiling, and much, much more. Shamanism turned out to be surprisingly versatile, allowing one to find a worker for any bor. All this time Stepan diligently observed the safety technique put into his head. If there was even the slightest chance to lure something dangerous or to run into a strong spirit that would decide to offend the shaman he did not run into it. The time for serious calls, where with the spirits, strong and suitable for real combat, he should if not engage in combat, then keep in mind the risk of such a conflict, will still come, as he sorted out his affairs.

  The food supply grew full, meat was dried under the supervision of five spirits, which dried it, taking a part of the sacrificial energy from that meat, root crops were stored, among which there were some very tasty ones, fruits and berries were dried. There were also some special herbs, which the invested experience either recognized, or the trainee simply sensed magic in them, as well as all sorts of poisonous stuff, including hallucinogenic mushrooms (Stepan didn't want to become a mushroom elf, but did anyone really believe that it was just an idle joke about shamans and mushrooms? ) and some particurly poisonous herb that had to be boiled first, and a drop of the concentrate of that decoction would easily kill five people if it got into the stomach or on the mucous membranes.

  For defense, he also summoned a few spirits on one-time contracts that could strike fear and terror into wild beasts or intelligent creatures unprotected from magic. He always carried a knife and axe on his belt. The hermit's knowledge didn't give him a warrior's knack, but there was some base of cold weaponry there too, the level of a militiaman at most, not a professional guardian or soldier. However, he didn't doubt the hardness of his hand. Luckily, there were no occasions to test the skill in practice. The beasts passed by his house, and even a couple of times the wolf tracks he'd encountered didn't wrap up at all, which was good. Experience, but a wolf pack was still dangerous, even if he didn't make allowance for the magical world, or what kind of werewolves could the local woolly wolves grow into?

  Stepan even pnted a small vegetable garden, where he pnted the most valuable of the pnts he had found, and spent two full reserves to cover the vegetable garden with ritual bnks for semi-totems, to fill the resulting circle-storage with power and to summon a spirit, which provided the vegetable garden with increased fertility and rooting of transpnted herbs. The thought that now he could work as a florist or a gardener without any magic due to his survival skills alone amused the d, who was tired of the ritual. Gradually it became easier for him to call near the house and in the nearby woods, even if he didn't make any special moves towards creating his pce of power here, but it was the shaman's practice that they became stronger the longer they strengthened their power over spirits and territory. He had no intention of becoming a local, gaining the additional power of a house but losing even more if he left it, but it was one thing to strengthen one's connection to a pce, and another thing to become completely attached to it. Any reasonable spirit lord does the former, even apprentices, and he didn't want the tter, wanting to get out to the people sooner or ter.

  The level increase happened without any pathos, right during the routine procedure of collecting trapped animals, which he conducted every day. To avoid the risk of getting lost in the process, the Earthman had gotten into the habit of summoning a spirit guide for a one-time contract, who not only lived in the spiritual pne but also preferred to stay in the very section of it, which was responsible for the immediate area. He told at once where the traps were full of prey, where they were broken by the very prey, and where they were just untouched - for the heart of one of the caught animals. Actually, after the completion of the call, the experience bar froze on the very edge of the edge and jumped over, having pleased the isekai with a new system message.

  Level up!

  Received one free talent point!

  "Grats me, happy level-up, comrades." Without unnecessary emotions and noise, so as not to scare half the forest and the other half not to inform about his presence nearby, he congratuted himself and went on his way. "Today I'll roast rabbit with pepper root and celebrate."

  Stepan didn't want to increase his knowledge right away. He remembered how he had been knocked out st time, so now he'd better wait for the evening, lie down in bed, and look for a suitable skill or property before going to bed. Maybe not this evening, having made a choice, first flipping through all the catalogs and thinking it over, and only then making a decision. He didn't think about saving talent points for the future. He wasn't an idiot, because his survival depended on it, but it might be too rash a decision to just pick and choose. He was just about to resume his leisurely walk along the county paths when the system fshed again with a message and a cold sweat ran down his back: another greeting from the same dy, again unheard words that made him feel unnatural lust, and another gift that he could have done without. Already expecting some useless bullshit in the style of the same hexes, Stepan was pleasantly surprised to receive quite a necessary meta-skill, which he had almost chosen earlier.

  Received: "system assignments I".

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  This has already inspired and raised the mood, because the assignment, of course, can become dangerous or impossible, but there are no penalties for failure to take or fulfill the quest. He looked separately in the reference. Just if you decline a quest, you won't get a new one for a week, and if you fail to complete it, you'll get two weeks without updates, but if you do, the system will offer you a new quest three days ter. Smiling an almost satisfied smile, Stepan quickly ran around the area, sometimes switching to real running, collected the loot, cut out the heart of a chipmunk (or something simir), throwing it in the direction of the hanging nearby spirit, which became visible for a moment, having previously soaked that heart with a piece of his reserve, just from a good mood.

  The rest of the work, which could be done quickly, he performed quickly, sitting in the shade near the wall of the house, pressing the recently appeared sign with the activation of the system assignment. And the sign squeezed in, the assignment appeared, and the reward was very generous. The assignment itself was not dangerous to life and health, all as zy hitmen like. Stepan reread - well, not exactly read, more like perceived - the message ten times, then twenty, then put his face to the palm of his hand and inhaled heavily, with tearing irritation. Who would have doubted that the features of his system, customized for Stepka, would not fire now? No, it's worth admitting that the young man hadn't expected such depth of the meta-skill he'd been given, and that's why he was genuinely surprised, and to put it more bluntly, he was freaking out.

  System assignment (small): every morning for ten days to start the day with the release of semen with thoughts of the beautiful body of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, faithful servant of Innes Inney. During each release imagine yourself pouring into a new part of the divine body.

  Reward: one-tenth of a level scale for each release.

  In the depths of poor Stepan's soul, pride fought with wild anger at the divine dy who had sent the wrong person to the next world. Yes, he liked magic, yes, he had already begun to get used to the new realities, and even the hard daily bor in complete solitude did not cancel the true pleasure of working with real magic, which turned this work into an amazing adventure. In many ways it was not even a matter of anger or grief for the lost world of Earth, where now at least he did not have to take exams, but a simple resentment at the fact that he was not even honored with even a gnce. That he'd just been given a record. No doubt, such a task would be much easier than he had expected, and the mere memory of that Big Milf was so exciting that the main problem was not to start the task without touching Stepan Junior at all. He would also like to get a new level, with such a high guarantee and without the slightest risk of skin integrity!

  It was not even his pride that won out, which he would have humbled, and not even the fear that the Autogoddess might sense such a peculiar "prayer" and realize it was not the Chosen One who was "praying" to her, but the banal understanding that he would move from the second level to the third level without such acts of self-satisfaction and self-humiliation, just continuing to do what he was doing. At first, when he was just getting settled in a new pce, most of his days were consumed by attempts to provide for his everyday life and survival, and now, when the main pressure has subsided, he can call much more often, much more thoroughly. So why should he tear his heart out and suppress his flexible principles (figuratively) for the sake of something that he will take anyway, just a little ter, but on his own?

  After refusing and receiving a message that he would get a new quest only in seven local days (about two hours longer than on Earth, by the way), Stepan calmed down and continued to do his business. He wanted to tell the goddess to fuck off, but the shaman's cautious mind said that the chances of being heard were not zero, and he did not intend to check the disposition of divine dies, no matter auto or not auto. Or she would furrow her lovely eyebrows menacingly and threateningly, and then she would rearrange the ass with the face of a boorishly behaving mortal, and then he would have to live with the ass on his face.

  Characteristically, the young prodigy didn't even think about getting up to one hundred thousand five hundredth level, and then start taking revenge on all kinds of bad gods and the system in general. No, he's not a dumbass, is he? This dy, no matter how perverted she was or skillfully pretended to be, endowed him with this system. Even if he reached five-digit levels, what could he do against the owner of such power? What if she just took the system and disabled it or at least blocked it? Wiggle his eyebrows menacingly? Unless he spshes her throne with blood... or other liquids given the nature of the corset-loving woman's assignments. In general, the young man with a burning heart decided to keep his especially valuable opinion to himself, and having made a decision simply continued to work according to the pn.

  He went back to improving his talent when the sun had set, and at sunset, the shaman himself had made a few separate negotiations, paid off the reserve with those spirits who had agreed to work for him on credit, fed the strength of the guard of his house, and healed his worn-out leg. After rinsing himself in the night stream, which was not warm enough even on the hottest day, he went to bed, covered himself with a heavy and biting wool bnket, and looked at the catalog of possible choices only then. As he suspected, the indescribable variety was noticeably reduced, though not reduced to two or three choices. Most of them were either more advanced versions of existing skills or somehow reted to them, but there were some completely new areas of development as well.

  It took him a long time to choose, and he made his decision the next evening, after thinking about it all day, but he chose. This choice was as utilitarian as possible, extremely clear and obvious: he simply transferred the skill "basic practice of call" to the advanced basic, closing his eyes and sinking into a trance, while years and years of distilled experience and practice were pumped into his head. There were more serious skills, a list of avaible rituals, spirits, contracts, agreements, and tricks that no one would tell a simple student, and the student himself could not use. There was that knowledge, which will be entrusted only to a personal and favorite pupil, and many of them even a full-fledged shaman (a a certified adept of a cssical magic school) will not disdain, many of this knowledge may be unknown to him.

  Stepan decided that he wouldn't even touch particurly juicy variants until he had also improved his skills of dialog with spirits because a too-strong and persuasive entity might have to be persuaded more tightly. Yes, he has an extremely high Spirit, as for an apprentice. He can without any knowledge, with bare talent press on contractors, taking by force where there is not enough skill, but it is still a risk. Yes, the faster way, yes, pumping will be faster. Yes, the experience will come faster, but, damn it. It is already growing at an unrealistic rate. He acquired magic less than a month ago! Why should he take risks where power can be paid for simply by time, and it's not about decades of bonded bor for a mentor with a lot of oaths afterward, but about weeks, months, maximum years to gain what others have been going to for centuries?

  Stepan loved isekai literature, he read all sorts of isekai, even frankly pornographic. Every time he looked through another "battle with victory from the st forces", he mentally asked himself a question: what happened to those heroes who were unlucky in a simir situation, who did not have enough of those st forces to win? The answer is simple - they did not write a story about them. He knew for sure, absolutely and one hundred and forty percent, that the Chosen One in this story was not him. That's why he doesn't want to make it to the point where he has to spend the very st of his strength, just like he doesn't want to defeat evil enemies in packs. He may be a pacifist. Deep down. Very deep.

  So another week passed, again opening access to the system assignment. Also allowing him to accumute a little fat, and to add a lot to the experience bar, almost catching it up to half. The increased understanding of his capabilities, and the depth of those capabilities. The free time that appeared in the assortment allowed him to confidently begin magical development, and not just survival in the wilderness with the help of shamanism. He was now calling not for work, but for himself, either replenishing the stock of contracts, tying a spirit to some stones, or simply dialoguing with these spirits. Like that guardian spirit of the brook, or at least a piece of it, really strong and the more dangerous, which he called carefully, with all due respect and pre-protecting himself. In exchange for some of his power and the partridge meat he had burned in the fire, he shared all sorts of interesting things about his part of the forest.

  For example, he managed to ask him about a rge gold nugget lying under the silt down the stream, simply asking spirit if he had seen a metal simir to the one in the gold coin. He was lucky, of course, for this spirit (like all of them) thought in strange categories for him gold, river stones, and sand were all the same. He would have asked the forest master, but he was much darker in his nature, and for an attempt to meddle in his affairs he might have snapped at him, but the spirits of streams, not rivers, were often pyful and compcent, and even if you made a mistake in the dialog or ritual, they would almost never attack. But Stepan still preferred not to make mistakes.

  The assignment required to conclude a dozen contracts with the spirits of air direction in a day, and in a row, and as a reward offered some microscopic increase in affinity with the air sphere and experience. Noticeably less experience than was offered for the st task, but here the memetic image "it's not much, but it's honest money" comes to mind. After accepting the assignment and postponing the work, the young man spent the entire day calling out to the wind-whirling spirits, wildly inept and windy in every sense, binding them with an agreement, and then immediately ordering them to blow away a bunch of leaves or just a sharp gust of wind to create - they are only happy to do so, and to him to complete the assignment.

  The assignment that followed the first one had to be rejected; it was about sacrificing a wolf or other predator of comparable mass, which had to be first caught, then sughtered, and then fed its guts to the dark spirits. The experience was offered more, as well as raising affinity with the dark spheres, although also microscopic, from the ritual itself it would increase hardly more. Stepan would agree if there were wolves nearby, but to search for them all day long, with no guarantee of success, and with only a day and a half for all the preparations - the risk of failing and then sitting for three weeks without new assignments because of failure was too high. Then again, there was the risk that not just one wolf would be found, but a pack of wolves, with a leader changed by magic. Also dangerous.

  Thus, it took two and a half weeks to get to the third level, at the end of which the experience went a little slower, and not only because the experience gain decreased, although it did decrease a little, it was just a lot of work all at once. The reason for this was a rainstorm, which turned into a downpour, and a thunderstorm with a gusty wind. He had to carry all the dried meat, and dried fruits, and cover the vegetable garden from the blows of air and water elements. Then he checked it all regurly and spent his strength on it. That's how he wasted three days. But then, when everything returned to its usual course, a new message about the promotion caught up with Stepan right at the moment of his morning meditation. And the absence of an additional message from the Autogoddess with a gift made him smile.

  Level up!

  Received one free talent point!

  As pnned, the second of the honestly earned talents, the young man increased the second of the most necessary skills for a shaman, bringing it to the advanced basics. It had an effect almost immediately. Communication with spirits not only became easier, but it also began to consume less time, and from that, less energy. Having the opportunity to directly push the will and more accurately transmit his pns through the call, Stepan began to carefully but confidently begin dialogues with the stronger and stronger spirits than the usual small and inferior entities, choosing to talk to those that are dangerous.

  The arsenal had expanded, and there were a few contracts that could kill with lightning and fme, but most simply attacked the aura and damaged it in the process. Whether the shamans themselves were born Malefics, which was true in many ways, or whether advanced charms, which were close to curses in essence, had an effect, or whether Stepan had awakened his grandmother's genes, but the spirits of dark orientation came to him more willingly than others. They didn't go for him directly, no, but they were much less angry and off the leash than they should have been, according to his knowledge.

  Having considered the situation, and also not wanting to go into the depths of dark magic, sincerely believing that it would be a choice of some emo-boy from dies' fantasy or edge lord from boyish fantasy, the guy began to focus more on working with wind spirits, trying to develop affinity with the necessary sphere. Most of the rituals and calls of dark direction were quite harmless, there at most a little blood or animal some torture, but for really valuable spirits important and no less valuable payment, where quite present human sacrifice and this is just the beginning. If it was the only way to power, then it would be okay, but he has all those ways just the whole palette of the astral pne. What kind of a man would have to be to willingly choose the bloodiest, most dangerous, and despised one, just because it was a bit faster, especially while there was someone to cut?

  That's not to say that the shaman abandoned the dark paths altogether, just that he didn't pn on making it the main focus, preferring the dull but practical versatility.

  He had been a supporter of dull practicality all his life, at the expense of which he often achieved success and could consider himself almost an established man with a good job, even after barely reaching the age of eighteen. Just a lot, a lot of hard work, training, constant reading of specialized literature and willingness not to sit in one pce, and to search, search, search where would be better to apply their skills. Well, and luck, of course, because there are a lot of people just like him, hard-working and dull, who have achieved nothing because of the ck of luck, all over the world, and more and more every year.

  Stepan opened the new assignment with a slight shudder, anticipating another emotional swing, and when he opened it he wanted to check himself for tent talents of a prophet or at least a fortune-teller because he had guessed. The next task was the second of those that carried the ineffable style of the very dy who would soon bore him worse than Yanin, damn him with all his shamanic potential. And, like the previous assignment, it caused a mixture of surprise, bewilderment, and the crunch of patterns breaking in his head. So much for his introduction to majestic divine entities.

  System assignment (small): for one hour, imagine the divine legs of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney, covered in snow-white stockings and enveloped in the magical attraction of passion. At the conclusion of the hour pour out seed with the thought of covering those majestic legs with it.

  Reward: one-fourth of the level scale; a slight increase in the effectiveness of any spells; for a month you will have erotic dreams of the beautiful feet of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney.

  Every day Stepan wants more and more to go back to Earth to find his namesake neighbor and then... No, not to beat him to a pulp, he's never been involved in bullying and doesn't pn to start, and it's a sin to feel anger at the wretched. No, just take the fat degenerate by the scruff of the neck, throw him in the bathroom, then drag him to the barber, dermatologist, stylist, speech therapist, and then kick him out on a date with a normal alive woman, threatening to burn his entire hentai collection if he embarrassed himself. He shouldn't be such an antisocial hikki. Some kind of revenge, but Stepan is a generous man, and a guy who's mired in hentai needs to be rescued, it seems, and the neighbors. Maybe, if he had done that, the Autogoddess would have found another elevator and another Chosen One, and Stepan himself would have passed the exam to the Vicar of Satan in one particur educational institution, i.e. Rodisv Gastoldovich, and would have enjoyed his vacation in peace.

  This time it was even easier to refuse because the reward was a bit more modest, he didn't need the charms anyway, and the third part of the reward would make him spend a lot of time on his morning undry. Having given up the task, the guy yawned and went on with his development. The minor mishap with the task was perceived as an unfortunate misunderstanding rather than any trouble. In the name of the very answering machine, which so persistently sends him these tasks, that all his problems should be limited to such a scale!

  Little by little, very interesting contracts were found among the contracts, both after sorting through the avaible knowledge and thanks to a free search.

  The ability to look through the eyes of a flying bird, even if badly and briefly, and expensive to spend all the time, will definitely not be superfluous because such a bird can fly away for many kilometers, unlike observer spirits deprived of a material body (weak spirits, because the strong and without a body can look at the other side of the world). As well as called only on the case of the eater of gangrenous human (and only human) flesh, which may well devour all the contagion from the body, while not damaging the still healthy body and even blood cleansing. But if the kidneys are damaged, then he will eat them, and the person will die in agony, so you need to check before the call. The spirit itself did not tell him this directly, he could hardly understand the difference between dead muscle tissue or dead kidneys from necrosis, so he had to think up most of the vague and obscure images himself.

  Some spirits were also interesting, cheap to summon, and easy to control, but it was not clear how to use them at all. Like the set of three air spirits, which were not far from the smallest of their brethren that Stepan had summoned for the ten calls to the Sphere of Winds. They had no strength or power but they could create ughter, ughter, and only one single recording. An attempt to talk to them about new sounds or recording on a spiritual recorder did not meet with understanding. Stupid bastards simply did not understand how it is possible to produce any other sound that is not their favorite ughter.

  Experimenting Stepan spent the whole evening scaring the small animals by chasing the three around the house, occasionally feeding them with a drop of reserve and allowing them to make ughter in the surroundings. Childish and innocent, but at the same time very ominous due to some irregurity in the rhythm, ughter with bells, female and pyful, but also ominous, giggles, as well as bassy and frankly creepy hoarse ughter of a smoky throat. The shaman even tried to find out from whom the tter had picked up this ughter, but to no avail: it was just a spirit that had once appeared in reality for a few minutes and stayed near the ughing man. It liked the experience of being in the material pne so much that it memorized the sound and was now ready to py it over and over if the power was given. In this, it might be said, the spirit found the meaning of existence that if this entity had any intelligence at all, but it had the intelligence of a cockroach, or, at the very least, that of a field mouse.

  But one more permanent contract and the spirits are almost continuously circling near the hut or sitting in an improvised house for the spirit, made of a totem carved from a piece of special wood. He carved it well, by the way, just like a miniature head from Easter Isnd, only wooden.

  "If there were any random passersby around, they'd be out of here in no time." He thought aloud, listening to the gradually receding ughter of children outside the dark window. "I shudder every now and then, even though I know and understand the source of the sounds."

  The experience from such experiments was accumuting slowly but surely, bringing the level four bar closer. The nights were getting longer, and the rains more frequent, as the fall was approaching, which meant the risk of starving to death. Well, or spend all the energy on survival, forgetting about development and his own magical research, which is also not the most pleasant outcome. He had to make a contract with a rather powerful entity, which brought a young and healthy deer with rge branching horns to his lodge. And then with another entity, which he was preparing, in fact, for battle: this one simply and uncomplicatedly stopped the poor animal's heart, and without causing horror, otherwise the meat could become tough.

  The horns, burned on a big fire, were given to the corral hunter - he had to carry the wood, and he had already collected it from the woods closest to the house - the heart had to be thrown out before it rotted because of the aura eaten in its pce, but there was plenty of meat. He had to pay for some of the giblets and reserve for the special spirits of the dark branch to eat out all sorts of parasites from this carcass, which the wild animal had rather than cked. Stepan always performs such a call, but usually the carcasses of smaller beasts. The guy was exhausted, especially when he prepared the meat for the process of curing, for which he had to look for roots and spices beyond the avaible stock. There was no time for pumping, though it was incidental, along with the work he was doing, which alone and without magic would have taken much longer to do. And then the second deer was brought in and everything went on as usual, but I wanted to cry or swear.

  And since tough guys don't cry (unless it's while watching Roy Batty's famous monologue), we had to introduce the other world to earthly swearing.

  A system assignment (small) has been received: to perform the ritual of enclosing any spirits in a material anchor at least five times per day.

  Reward: one-twentieth of the experience bar; minor easing of the sealing of spiritual entities into material carriers.

  Stepan accepted and accomplished this task, simply shoving several small parasitic spirits on the river pebbles, imprinting them securely with his own bloody fingerprint. Normally he would have dispersed or destroyed these little vermin who did not offer service but ran around in the hope of getting a little power, but this was a good use of his time and reserve. In theory, such stones could even be used as storage, siphoning off the generated power from the spirits, but there were such crumbs that it would hardly pay off the power spent on the creation of stones before the seal broke or the spirit died from ck of energy.

  Full-fledged trap accumutors are made using a completely different methodology, leaving the sealed spirit with the ability to replenish power, but cutting off ways to use it, which makes the amulet itself a very expensive and complicated thing. Again, they seal either stronger and more dangerous entities, or shove a whole shoal of small and unintelligent spirits in there at once, which is also fraught with the fact that they will eat each other inside and grow into one healthy and more dangerous shit. In good catching totems, separate enclosed calls are created just for the prohibition to eat each other, and then to get unreasonable, but very evil shit on the heads of not yourself, so descendants, pleasant little.

  He did not ignore the question of the proximity of society, which had long tormented the poor isekai, and conducted a complex and difficult, though not dangerous, call search looking for the nearest cluster of people or at least traces of their activities. He attracted a lot of spirits, a couple of them were quite strong, though not dangerous, and also they were pcated with a ceremonial burning of a deerskin. It was not in vain that Stepan called, it was not in vain that he bored: the spirits showed the nearest road, a kind of dirt track, to which it would take at least three days to walk through the forest, and also the nearest human vilge, to which it would take almost five days to walk, located near that track.

  The images weren't very clear, but the settlement looked medieval. Although not poor or dirty as he expected. From the outside, the locals seemed, of course, puffed up and indebted, but content and happy, and there were no gaunt and hungry people to be seen. Either the vilge was prosperous, or the spirit did not convey less pleasant images, or there had not been a hungry year with a bad harvest for a long time. Again, if the world is magical, then suddenly even the vilgers can take and save up in hoards to call an unskilled druid or, here, a shaman to work magic on the harvest, to help the sick, cattle, and so on? Still, one could not judge the new world by earthly realities, or Stepan would get into trouble.

  The fourth level didn't take long to rise, it also rose routinely, right at the moment of breakfast, combined with the collection of images sent by the spirit checking the snares. Right at the moment of chewing the already boring meat, eaten with scarce breadcrumbs, the rise happened, sweetening the owner of the system his meal. At this point, he even decided to give up and drink that alcoholic jug tonight, while at the same time choosing a new skill. He wasn't afraid to make stupid choices when he was drunk, because a pitcher of wine wouldn't be enough for his student-hardened body to get drunk enough to do anything stupid. Unless it was wine in the jug and not his grandmother's fortified moonshine.

  And again...

  my gift to you

  ...the very whisper.

  Received: "basic techniques for inducing and correcting dreams"

  The acquired talent is added to the overall Pyer status.

  Stepan blinked, bewildered, trying to understand why the Autogoddess was so generous to give a not useless gift as a bonus. Then he rexed when he realized that even though the skill was useful for reconnaissance or trying to learn someone's secrets, the main advantage it reveals in combination with the previously given charms. He can now send a whole bunch of fantasies, which in combination with the same charms increase their effectiveness, though not by orders of magnitude, but very significantly. It's okay, the big goddess is still the same pervert, and nothing has changed. He spent a few more hours analyzing how exactly the new knowledge affected the overall build of the most important character in his life, finding separate small things in this and that block of knowledge. Yes, he was even ready to thank Autogoddess for such a thing, albeit through gritted teeth, but still, against the background of the already given "gifts", it was progressing. Just don't jinx it.

  The new talent was spent again in the middle of the night while lying in bed, only this time Stepan chose not knowledge, but a property called by the system "resilience of subtle bodies". Just as he had previously insured himself against physical injuries, and made the process of returning to normal after receiving them much easier, so now he took care of magical and auric injuries. The property did not increase the shaman's potential in itself and did not give pluses to the effectiveness of certain groups of calls. It allowed him to train and gain experience with full efficiency, without fear of tearing his shells. Of course, all this was only up to a certain limit, but it took a lot of effort to cross that limit, and Stepan kept the technique of shamanic safety more sacred than the Ten Commandments.

  This time no stream of knowledge flowed into his mind, but his aura began to vibrate and tingle, changing, strengthening, and becoming more estic and resilient. The impressions were not the most pleasant, but he was so tired after a day of work that he did not wait for the end of the mutation and just fell asleep, smiling happily. After acquiring the skill given by the Autogoddess, sleeping, in general, became a more pleasant occupation, and now it was possible to sleep in less time, waking up fresh and calm.

  Things were getting better.

  The decision, if not to go out to the people finally, then just to go and buy bread, flour, cereals, spices, and many other things, necessary and important, was not made immediately, but it was overdue. Meat and roots alone would not feed him, and no matter how he tried to save his initial food supplies, the grits and breadcrumbs were running low. It was easier to go to the nearest vilge and buy food there because there was money, valuable (not too valuable) herbs, and his gift, which could be used to pay for it. The only thing that stopped him was the distance he would have to travel through forests and fields.

  Actually, there was a system map among the meta-skills, as well as the famous gamer identification, except that all of them had to be bought with talent points, and of the basic meta-skills only a notebook, a watch, and a partial property of the pyer's body were given for free. In the sense that the aura without training does not lose its potential, always remaining at the peak level where the pyer brings it. It was also much easier to talk to the opposite in essence spirits - the usual shaman, who is stoned in the call and affinity with the same winds, communication with the spirit of the earth will be harder, but for the pyer everything is equally easy or difficult, but also the same. Also a great help, except for the watch - although they were also pumping and it was even interesting what exactly they can give when pumping - but secretly wanted something more.

  A separate way of entertainment was the system help, which with each level revealed a little more details. For example, talents were not just interconnected. Some could not be taken without getting a certain amount in some characteristic or several, others required a higher level, and others could be opened only under certain conditions and hidden tasks. What particurly amused Stepan was the meta-skills section, which increased depending not on a specific attribute but on the total amount of characteristics that had to reach a certain value.

  Returning to the topic of the map, he had no map, neither ordinary nor systematic, only images from that call, and a clear direction. He had to create an accurate compass in his head (by tying the spirit to a bundle of reindeer hair wrapped around a bone), pointing not to the north, but exactly to the desired vilge. He was going to go out, however, to the path, as it was closer, and only then to go to the settlement.

  Before leaving, he cut off his overgrown hairs with a knife (but nothing was still growing on his face, not even the youthful gunk), completed another systemic task of summoning water spirits, gaining crumbs of experience, micro-crumbs of affinity with water spheres, and moral satisfaction, got ready for the road and left. The half-empty backpack contained a small supply of food, "goods" he had gotten from nature, and weapons. He even took a spear in his hands, though it was used more as a staff to probe the path in front of him, and on the tip was worn a leather cover from rain and rust, found in the chest (and not immediately the Earthman realized what it was).

  He turned around at the st moment, looked around his familiar shelter, not his home, but his usual pce of refuge, locked up tight just in case, and checked one st time the animal deterrent totem next to the curing meat, as well as the smaller totem where the spirits made sure the meat didn't spoil. Shaking his head and recognizing that he was finally a redneck, even though he had magical powers, he turned away and decided to check his system status before stepping forward. He had been looking at it less often in recent days, because the new facets of information from the help had already been learned, and there was no point in just looking at the numbers and wonk at them. It was better to take another assignment from the Autogoddess, there would be some use in such masturbation.

  "Status." The young man's voice, accustomed to silence, seemed thunderous, though in fact, he was just a little hoarse, nothing more. "Well, that's not so bad. No longer a n00b, but at least a crab, only without cws. Evolution, so to speak."

  Name: Stepan

  Level: 4

  Css: Shaman

  Characteristics: (free: 0)

  Talents (free): 0

  Constitution: 1

  Sensitivity: 5

  Power: 4

  Control: 1

  Source: 3

  Spirit: 7

  Resistance: 1

  Knowledge acquired: speaking and writing: Free Cities, academic Neurath, Isnd Kingdom; basic shamanic practice; fundamentals of spiritual dialog; wilderness hermit; basics of working with healing spirits; advanced basics of casting shamanic charms (GIFT); basic techniques of dream-inducing and dream correction (GIFT)

  Obtained properties: blessings of health and long life; toughness of spirit; resilience of subtle bodies

  System modifiers: peaceful development I; issuance of system assignments I (GIFT)

  Special: Blessing of Liarat si Merrinal, Lady of Gifts and Giver of Gifts, loyal servant of Innes Inney: likely to grant additional talents as you level up; grant specific system quests with increased rewards; hidden effects

  With a proud nod to himself, as if confirming what he had said, Stepan exhaled, taking the first step towards, as he had fervently hoped, not adventure.

  He doesn't need an adventure.

  It was about twenty-four hours ter Stepan realized that the spirit had calcuted the distance in days of travel incorrectly. Although it would be more correct to say "recognized the obvious truth". Yes, the distance was correct, but usually, it was on the road or not too heavy terrain, not through the dense forest, where there were always bushwhacks, ravines, swamps, or just inconvenient routes. The only thing that stopped me from taking off and leaving was pride, the understanding that it was not clear when I would be able to get on the road next time, as well as the absence of the risk of starving to death and a cheerful increase in experience from exploring the world around him.

  The spirits led to the irs of beasts, - a chipmunk robbed to a warehouse with nuts creaked and hissed so expressively that one could almost hear something swearing in that yell, - bird's nests, berry meadows, and pces of accumution of edible pnts, Simple calls easily condensed atmospheric moisture from the morning fog, almost without wasting energy, warming totem did not allow to freeze at night and get wet in the morning, skills of a hermit-tramp told everything necessary about the change of weather, so the traveler was not afraid of rain. The way was difficult, but not dangerous, and so he continued, though the backpack could have been smaller. And the spear was always in the way, which made Stepan want to hide it and take it back on the way back. The only thing that stopped him was the fact he had a direction to the vilge and to his gatehouse, which he could easily recognize from the other side of the world, while he would not find the spear even if he tried hard.

  He was moving slower than expected but was still moving, having completed one more task to create a protective totem perimeter that would protect him from predatory animals and bites... It was quite simple, since he was already making one every night, and was already thinking of creating a permanent totem instead of a temporary one. If it weren't for the weight of the load, he would have already created one, but carrying around an extra piece of wood had a chance to become a straw that broke the camel's back. It would be easier to carve each time from the nearest twig.

  About two-thirds of the way through, a new assignment came, only now from the very same authority. Having read the proposal to jerk off at least seven times a day with the thought of her breasts, but at the same time to stop before the orgasm for three days, he only ughed at the fantasy of the "Autogoddess" and pressed cancel. It was not even a matter of pride, just to fulfill such a requirement on such a heavy road, when sweat floods his eyes and the general condition constantly requires rest is hardly possible physically. Although they offered a fifth level and a slight increase in overall bodily power. Not characteristics, but just additions, so that the same unit of bodily strength gave Stepan not a hundred percent of power, but a hundred and half a percent on top. Well, they promised to increase potency, but it was lost in the background. The shaman was much more interested not in the task itself, but in the fact that the effectiveness of the numerical value of characteristics, it turns out, can be increased.

  As if as a punishment for his insolent refusal - yeah, to punish now and ignore past refusals - the very next day the traveler ran into a bush and then into a swamp, from which he had to turn around and walk along the obstacle. He knew what a swamp was and didn't want to experience it, especially if it was a fantasy swamp. There's no telling what kind of scary shit lives there. He is not an idiot to move straight ahead. Stepan came to a rge clearing, and the air here was especially clean, saturated with magic from a small, but clean and full-fledged magic source.

  The young man, immersed in his thoughts, remembered too te, too te to find in his memory the fact that such natural magical anomalies often had their own master.

  They came at each other at the same time and equally suddenly for both of them. From one end of the clearing isekai and the other a local fatty magical mutant, sometimes called the keeper of the source, who used to be just a predatory beast. Both of them froze, looking at the unexpectedly met individual, and Stepan only the fortitude of spirit and the high value of that spirit did not allow him to dirty his pants right there. A small and thick wild apricot - simir in appearance - growing right in the middle of the clearing was quietly rustling its leaves. Somewhere in the distance, a bird was singing. A chewed and hopelessly dead young deer fell deceptively slowly out of the mouth of an amazing mixture of something dog-like and a miniature hippopotamus (the mouth was the same, only the scale was wrong).

  "You won't agree to part in peace, will you?" The Earthman asks gloomily, pressing his spirit in response to the evil gaze of the creature, still hoping it will be possible to part ways. "And you won't understand the offer to lure here a herd of deer to pay for the passage, because you are stupid and evil, right?"

  In response, the beast lowered its entire body slightly, tensing the muscles hidden beneath the short bck fur, and then gave a barely audible but very ominous growl.

  It was getting dark.

  * * *