Alex Toxic & Nadya Lee

The Dark Healer

Book Seven

A Historical Progression Fantasy Series

Published by Magic Dome Books

The Dark Healer

Book # 7

Copyright © Alex Toxic, Nadya Lee 2025

Cover Art © Natalia Radaeva from DrakArt studio 2025

Cover designer: Vladimir Manyukhin

English translation copyright © Dan Veksler 2025

Published by Magic Dome Books, 2025

ISBN: 978-80-7702-173-9

All Rights Reserved

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is entirely a work of fiction. Any correlation with real people or events is coincidental.

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Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

About The Authors

Chapter 1

“HELP! SOMEONE! A doctor!” shouted a stunning brunette, her long legs highlighted by a shiny golden dress that flirted with the limits of resort propriety. Though brief, it drew even more eyes to her striking figure.

She was gripping her friend — a lovely blonde — who had suddenly felt unwell. The problem was, at this late hour, the normally bustling tourist town was nearly empty. Only a few night owls remained, scattered among the still-open clubs by the coast or nestled at the base of the mountains. A handful of tourists lingered on the beach, preferring the moonlit waves to the daytime crowds, while most others were already tucked away in their homes and hotels.

At the nearby museum, only the guards remained. They were inside, where they were supposed to be, but upon seeing the commotion, they rushed outside to help the two women.

“What’s wrong?” asked the first guard, concern etched across his young face, his short hair framing big brown eyes. He had just made magister and was working a shift alongside his more experienced colleague, an adept but unremarkable magician. “Did she drink too much?” the elder man frowned, assessing the situation. “Is she on anything else?”

“Not at all!” the brunette insisted, shaking her head. “Just a little champagne, that’s all!” In a sudden panic, she pressed the young guard’s head against her friend’s chest. “Listen! Her heart! I don’t think it’s beating!”

“Call an ambulance right away!” the stunned guard instructed his partner. The younger guard nodded and produced his phone, but the brunette stopped him with a desperate plea.

“Please, no ambulance! If her parents find out she’s out this late, they’ll kill her.”

“You’re talking nonsense, young lady,” the senior guard scolded her in a stern tone. “Of course we’re calling an ambulance! Your friend is already unconscious! If anything happens to her, I assure you her family won’t be thanking you!”

“Yes, you’re right,” Olga replied, fear creeping into her voice.

It was she who had orchestrated the scene. She and Blanche were putting on quite a performance, designed to draw as many guards out of the museum as possible. And the plan was working remarkably well. In addition to the guards stationed at the entrance who had already rushed over, nearly all the rest of them had also abandoned their posts. It was impossible to ignore such a spectacle. What if they were needed and weren’t there to help? After all, what harm could come to the dusty antiquities housed within? Most of the guards had been at the museum for years, and their most significant challenge had been dealing with activists trying to splash paint on the exhibits, who rarely succeeded and usually just got the protective glass dirty. There was nothing especially valuable in the museum, except Salazar’s trident, of course. But that special piece was enough to keep the guards on alert. The rest of the pieces were trifles. So who could resist playing the hero for two lovely ladies?

As more guards gathered around Blanche and Olga, they scrambled to provide aid to the fainting blonde and comfort the distraught brunette. One guard even had some training in CPR, while others eagerly volunteered for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

But they needed to keep the guards focused on the situation at hand. Olga skillfully deterred the onslaught of well-meaning offers of assistance, creating a barrier of physical contact while ensuring the crowd didn’t disperse. It required all of her acting talents, and her performance was nothing short of brilliant. She sobbed, gasped for breath, and displayed such genuine concern for her friend that even the toughest guards felt their resolve waver.

“There, there, everything will be just fine,” the captain of the local guard reassured her, breaking protocol as he leaned in closer. “She’s breathing, and there’s a pulse. The ambulance will be here soon.”

What he didn’t know was that the doctors, who were indeed en route, had been delayed by an unexpected complication. An undead, a former mage from the Mao clan, had thrown itself in front of their vehicle and was now lying motionless, pretending to be nothing more than an ordinary corpse. Since the necromancer had returned it to a semblance of life just moments after its death, the body remained in that state. Even the most skilled doctor, equipped with the latest technology, would have confirmed the death as recent.

Aware that help for her friend wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon, Olga leaned into her role, channeling every ounce of her acting ability. She continued to wring her hands, biting her lip in an effort to appear more distressed, keeping the guards engaged and ensuring their attention remained solely on her and Blanche. The facade needed to hold just a little longer; with each passing moment, her plan edged closer to success.

* * *

“It’s time!” I whispered urgently to Alina, signaling to Furball to spring into action.

The chimerologist, the Scipion witch, and I settled into a small park near the museum, deliberately choosing a spot out of view of the city’s surveillance cameras. Even this felt like an excess of caution. Like all our mini-chimeras, Furball was adept at the concealment spell. As the strongest among them, she wielded it with remarkable skill. A mere camera would never catch her; only the most powerful search spells or rituals could penetrate her defenses.

With her stealth thus assured, Furball covered the distance to the museum unseen, slipping through the ajar door. Inside, she quickly located a narrow ventilation shaft, navigating her way right to the locked electrical room.

Now it was my turn to act swiftly. I trailed closely behind Furball, teleporting through shadows to evade the watchful eyes of cameras. Unlike the mini-chimeras, concealing an entire person with the spell was beyond even my capabilities, so I had to rely on agility and quick thinking. Luckily, Lifeng, who was in constant contact with me, guided me to the blind zones to avoid detection.

I maneuvered past the cameras and bystanders, including the guards who were still clustered around Olga and Blanche. The girls were executing their roles flawlessly. They had the guards so captivated with their performance that an entire regiment could have passed unnoticed.

Inside, however, there were no blind zones. Just beyond the entrance to the hall I needed, lay the display case housing Salazar’s trident. To my surprise, a few guards still lingered nearby, a testament to the locals’ keen appreciation for the priceless gift from old man Armand — an interest sparked by the earlier spectacle.

“Now,” I heard Lifeng’s voice echo in my mind. A second later, the lights flickered and vanished. Furball had finally shorted something in the electrical room. I teleported past the unsuspecting guards and arrived right where I needed to be — in the room with the phylactery.

I needed to disable the cameras, making it look as if they had malfunctioned due to a power surge. This step couldn’t wait; the museum was sure to have a backup power source in the event of a failure.

Indeed, just as I drained the energy from the cameras, the lights flickered back on, illuminating the room. The alarm system stood as my only remaining hurdle, but I was confident I could handle it. I placed my hand on the glass panel, allowing the abomination to flow into me drop by drop, merging our energies. With a simple push, I slid the glass aside and grasped both cubes with my hands. Then I approached a window, quietly opened it, and leapt out onto the street behind the building.

I needed to return to Alina and Octavia, who were waiting for me with the abomination. The Scipion witches, known for their myriad skills, excelled in artifact crafting. This talent extended beyond creating dolls for mental enslavement or mockery, though those scenarios were common within their esteemed clan. They had an impressive ability for meticulous craftsmanship, showing an extraordinary attention to detail that seemed an inherent aspect of their powers. That’s why I had entrusted Octavia with the task of making exact replicas of the cubes from the museum. Thanks to their straightforward design, she managed to produce a quality prototype in just fifteen minutes. The most challenging part had actually been sourcing the right materials. We had to scour the open flea markets of Costa Sirena to find enough black onyx, without which we would have needed to postpone our operation until the next day.

But fortune was on our side. Under the astonished and admiring gazes of the girls, Octavia skillfully melted the necklace and bracelet made of onyx into a single pliable mass, from which she crafted the cubes. Even Blanche Villon, who had witnessed much in her time, was taken aback by this display of the Scipion clan’s sorcery, watching in awe as the solid stone transformed in Octavia’s hands, becoming as malleable as plasticine.

We aimed for perfection. As I presented the original cubes to Octavia, she set to work finishing the final details. Within minutes, the texture of the replicas had achieved an impressive level of authenticity. Octavia meticulously replicated every tiny crack and scratch, even the little chip on the corner of one of the cubes. The final touch was mine to make; to ensure the faces glowed green and radiated the same magical power as the originals, I breathed a drop of necrotic energy into them. With that, they were now imbued as mystical objects, likely to hold their enchantment for another six months. By then, the incident with the security system and the two girls — one of whom had suddenly felt unwell outside the museum — would be a distant memory.

Once again, I retraced my steps to the pedestal where the backgammon piece had been kept, placing our counterfeit in its place. “Well, grandpa,” I thought, “I never imagined I’d have the chance to speak with you again outside the visions summoned by the challenge.”

Resurrecting the old man Richter, or more accurately, bringing him back to unlife, wouldn’t be simple. The phylactery was now in my possession, but a complex ritual lay ahead. It was also not at all obvious that it was wise to unleash such a powerful lich into the world, especially while I had not yet fully regained my strength. Grandpa was nearly impossible to control; otherwise, I wouldn’t have had to put him to rest in the first place.

Yet, he was Richter — a name that carried weight and power. Even if his resurrection led to chaos and mayhem for everyone involved, I might need his assistance one of these days.

* * *

“So, you’re already here?” Olga asked Prokhor a bit aggressively as we arrived back at our recently acquired base. Prokhor looked slightly taken aback by her sharp tone, and I couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. For some time now, my granddaughter had been acting a little neurotic with our captain. Beneath her rudeness lurked uncertainty and anxiety.

“We met the deadline exactly,” Prokhor replied, reaching down to pat the large muzzle of Harry, who was lounging next to him. He had taken a day away from his students to help dig a path to Costa Sirena alongside our trusty pet. Of everyone left in the capital, no one could tackle this task better than he could, and Kalinin had set everything up perfectly.

The new tunnel still required significant work from Harry and our moles — its current size was too narrow for practical use. But those were just details. The essential point was that we had established a direct, independent route accessible only to the Richter clan.

And today, we would need it. My grandfather’s phylactery needed a more secure storage solution than being shoved under a hotel pillow.

I briefly explained the situation to Prokhor before handing him the artifact. “The fewer people see you carrying something to my room in the fort, the better. And remember to reactivate all protections after you secure the artifact in my safe.”

When we moved to the old fort, I had taken care to start a secure stash of my own. While the focus around us offered a certain sense of safety, I felt it wise to have an additional secure location for something so important. I also took the time to teach my close students how to temporarily deactivate the protective magical seal whenever necessary.

Olga had asked me to teach her how to create her own seals, but I had to disappoint her on that front. That magic required a level of experience she simply hadn’t yet attained. Crafting protective seals was advanced and necessitated specialized training. Naturally, Olga was quick to ask me to train her, and Prokhor, Alan, and Alina expressed their interest as well. However, at this stage, all of them had more pressing tasks to attend to. So, I simply promised I would teach them specific spells as needed for now, complete with different magical “keys” tailored for each individual, ensuring only the rightful owner could use them. After all, Prokhor kept his favorite gun secured in his safe, Alan had a notebook filled with ideas for Eyeballs songs in his, and Alina stored her personal laptop in hers.

Alan was very intrigued by that particular item, by the way. Olga later confided in me that Alina was using it to write fanfiction about her beloved anime heroes. She was mortified at the thought of anyone discovering her secret stories.

As for my granddaughter, she didn’t keep anything in her safe yet. “You wanted it more than anyone,” I commented once.

“It’ll come in handy someday,” she replied, completely unfazed.

But now, she did seem a bit embarrassed. Anyone who knew her well would have noticed, except for Prokhor. Blind as a bat, like many in love, he responded to all of Olga’s inquiries with genuine surprise, oblivious to the underlying tension in her questions. Initially, when she asked about the recruits’ training and how the games were proceeding in her absence, it seemed completely normal. But when she began to inquire about Fred’s well-being, what he was cooking for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, or whether anyone had taken Dino for a ride, along with how the weather had been since our departure, it became clear something was amiss. I understood then that she had started to miss Prokhor, and honestly, I couldn’t help but feel glad about it. He was a reliable individual and a promising fighter, already playing a crucial role in the clan’s activities. In the future, I firmly believed he would become an even greater support. Moreover, he was advancing quickly as a magician, which made it easy to trust him with what I held most dear — even my own granddaughter.

Still, I found myself looking too far ahead. “We’ll see,” I thought to myself.

* * *

“I didn’t sleep well,” Olga complained as we gathered for breakfast on the veranda again. “Even the relaxation spell didn’t help.”

“I slept poorly, too,” Blanche chimed in, nodding in agreement. “Maybe we were too on edge yesterday because of the robbery. I could hear you tossing and turning.”

Alina shrugged, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “I slept fine! The bed is incredibly comfortable. I’d love to have one like it back at the fort.”

“I had a great rest too,” Octavia added sweetly, stretching her arms above her head before winking at me with a playful sparkle in her eye. Of course, her implication was anything but innocent. I couldn’t help but smile back at her. Little Scipion always brightened my mood; she had a knack for fostering a festive atmosphere wherever she went, making it impossible to feel bored in her company. I was reminded of the first day we’d met when she’d dressed in latex, intent on turning me into her doll.

As I sipped my hot, aromatic coffee — prepared in special vessels over hot sand — the girls discussed the plans for the day. The coffee here was thick and strong, almost overwhelmingly so. Even I struggled to keep my heart from racing; I could only imagine how challenging it would be for someone less attuned to such strong brews. The locals managed to wash it down with fruit vodka, a combination that definitely seemed magical.

“How am I supposed to go to the beach looking like this?” Olga sighed, inspecting herself in the mirror. “Dark circles under my eyes like a panda.”

“Exactly!” Blanche exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I promised you a detox! You’ll be fresh and gorgeous, like a magazine cover.”

“You’re kidding,” Olga scoffed, clearly doubtful.

They giggled conspiratorially as they made their way to the bathroom, leaving Alina and me to exchange bemused looks.

* * *

“Oh wow… just look!” Michael exclaimed, his eyes glued to the image from one of the security cameras. “Two beauties just walked into the bathroom! Could they be… you know?”

His anticipation was so palpable that his ears flushed crimson, practically radiating heat. In this moment, he regretted having to share the monitoring room with his partner, Sam. It seemed he would have to take home a recording of the video if he ever wanted to truly unwind. Still, he couldn’t resist the thrill of watching the gorgeous girls, even if just for a moment. As they began to undress, Michael’s mind was awash with thoughts of how fortunate he was to be witnessing this scene.

“Finally!” Sam added, a grin spreading across his face. “This room is so boring; they’re always off doing something else!”

They brought the image up on one of the numerous screens that filled the control room — a large one. The air was electric as both men leaned closer, captivated by the unfolding spectacle.

Chapter 2

“ALRIGHT, WHAT ARE WE GOING to do?” Olga asked Blanche, a hint of embarrassment coloring her voice.

Blanche Villon reassured her with a smile, “You just need to relax. I’ll take care of the rest. And no need to feel shy or worry about what’s happening. Whatever happens now is perfectly normal!”

“After that introduction, I feel even more uneasy,” Olga admitted with a nervous laugh. She wasn’t used to putting her well-being in someone else’s hands, especially since she was a healer herself and usually considered herself completely healthy.

Now, she faced the added discomfort of having to undress. While she wasn’t shy about her body — after all, Blanche had seen her in a bikini and nearly examined her entirely — it still felt a bit awkward. But any discomfort faded after a minute. Blanche transformed right before her eyes, stepping into her role as healer with such grace that Olga barely recognized her. The spoiled great clanswoman, accustomed to being worshipped, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Blanche embodied the ideal healer: attentive, understanding, and exquisitely competent. Gradually, Olga found herself relaxing and trusting Blanche. The atmosphere in the bathroom helped. Blanche played soft, beautiful instrumental music, lit incense, and added a few drops of essential oil to the water.

“We’ll start with a light massage,” she said in a calming tone. She then moved her hands around Olga’s body, without actually touching her. RThe energy flows resonated through Olga, gently kneading her muscles and invigorating her blood circulation. When Blanche’s fingers glided through her hair, a delightful shiver ran down Olga’s spine and she almost purred like a contented cat. “Now you might feel a slight tingling,” Blanche warned gently. “But don’t worry! It won’t hurt; I’m just helping your skin release all the tensions and toxins. Close your eyes.” Whatever sensations Olga felt, the golden hands of Blanche Villon were working real wonders. Tingling? She hardly noticed it, lost in the warmth and comfort that enveloped her.

Meanwhile, Blanche picked up a soft sponge and began gently wiping Olga’s face. A viscous dark substance that resembled slime began to ooze from her skin. At first, it only appeared on her face, but Blanche swiftly washed it away. “What’s happening?” Olga asked, her voice relaxed. “I feel strange...”

“Everything is proceeding as it should,” Blanche reassured her, her tone soothing. “With my magic, all the nastiness that’s accumulated in your body over the years is leaving you. You’re saying goodbye to harmful bacteria, viruses, and decaying cells.” Moving to Olga’s back and chest, Blanche continued her explanation. “Right now, even the smallest malfunctions in your body are being corrected, and your vital processes are rebooting. Literally. You’re still young, but you already have early signs of aging — subtle things that you wouldn’t notice, especially since you’re a mage with centuries of life ahead of you. But my magic can have a positive impact even on those small issues.”

“Is that how all the girls from the Villon clan stay so young?” Olga inquired.

“Well... we all age eventually,” Blanche replied thoughtfully. “Except for Katharine, but she’s an anomaly, like all the great princes. Still, you have a point. Villons cannot halt the passage of time from within, but they can at least preserve the appearance of youth from the outside for as long as they live.”

With her eyes still closed, Olga surrendered to the experience, feeling Blanche gently massage her body, working her way down from head to toes. The dark slime continued to ooze slowly from her pores, and throughout the process, Blanche kept patiently wiping it away.

At last, the treatment came to a close and Blanche said gently, “You can open your eyes now.”

Right across from the bathroom was a large mirror, like in each of the rooms in this suite. As Olga caught sight of herself, she gasped at her transformation. Her skin glowed with an ethereal radiance. She looked more like a retouched photo from a magazine than an actual person. “Wow!” she exclaimed, unable to contain her excitement. “This is amazing!”

Blanche smiled, patting her gently on the shoulder. “Yes... the first moments are the most magical. Right now, you look like a fairy. Unfortunately, this intense effect only lasts about a week. After that, reality sets in, and you’ll need to either repeat the procedure or come to terms with it. But there is good news!”

“What’s that?” Olga asked, a hint of disappointment creeping in.

“The outward glow will fade, but the cleanse itself will last much longer. For about a month, you won’t have to worry about germs at all. For another three weeks after that, you’ll continue to feel like you’ve been reborn. After that, fatigue and other issues gradually begin to accumulate again.”

“Too bad it’s not permanent,” Olga pretended to sigh, but she couldn’t help smiling as she stepped out of the bath. Drying herself with a towel, she added sincerely, “Thank you, Blanche. This is an indescribable feeling.”

The girls got dressed again and left the bathroom, and their transformation did not go unnoticed by the others. Even the usually modest Alina couldn’t resist asking, “Blanche..., can you do that for me too?” Her shyness was evident, but her curiosity shone through.

“Of course I can,” Blanche Villon replied readily, though not without a slight twinkle of pride. “But not today, or even tomorrow. I need to rest for a couple of days. Even for a healer of my level, this is a difficult ritual that requires a lot of energy. So, you’re very lucky,” she concluded boastfully.

* * *

“Ahem, this is not quite what I expected to see,” Michael said with disappointment, his mood sinking like a stone. All the initial excitement he felt at the sight of beautiful naked girls evaporated at the sight of the black slime oozing from their skin. That was a bit too much for him. He glanced at Sam, hoping for some solidarity, but his partner remained silent, lost in thought as he stared at the video.

After a full minute of contemplation, Sam finally spoke, “You know, this looks like a ritual I’ve heard about but never seen.” Unlike Michael, Sam was a formidable mage — an executor. More than just a guard, he served as a hotel manager. He enjoyed watching the camera footage, though he told himself it was to moderate the videos they would upload for their subscribers — a task that also contributed to the success of their business. Their clientele comprised wealthy individuals willing to pay substantial sums for exclusive content. These were people accustomed to luxury, often jaded by life. Ordinary videos featuring real actors failed to pique their interest. The hotel offered them the thrill of spying on completely unaware individuals simply going about their lives. That’s why only beautiful young women and couples were accommodated here.

“What ritual?” Michael frowned, puzzled.

“Yes… it’s definitely him,” Sam said, ignoring Michael’s question as he focused on the video. “And that girl... the blonde... she seems to be a Villon.”

“Aren’t they usually redheads?” Michael asked, confused.

“Idiot!” Sam snapped, finally taking note of his partner. “Ever heard of hair dye? Many of them just like to imitate their princess.”

Michael’s excitement surged even higher. “We could make bank on this video! Should I post it?”

“Wait!” Sam almost shouted. “It’s actually a good thing we didn’t upload it right away. This Villon... she’s clearly not just any ordinary girl. She really reminds me of someone.” He furrowed his brow, zooming in on the healer’s features, scrutinizing her closely.

Oddly enough, it was Michael who recognized her first. “It’s… it’s her!” he exclaimed as realization dawned on him. “The young Villon girl! It’s that same face! She’s in ads all over the place. But she’s a redhead in those.”

“Exactly!” Sam said, his excitement palpable as luck seemed to be smiling upon them. “This is the girl they’re looking for! If we capture her, we’ll be rich!”

“Wait,” Michael said, suddenly frightened. “You’re not planning to…”

“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do!” Sam declared, the fierce glint of determination in his eyes.

* * *

“I can’t believe how quickly the time has flown,” Octavia complained when our whole group was back at the beach. This time, however, we came not to sunbathe, but to have lunch at one of the floating cafes. This one looked like a sailing ship swaying on the waves, which added to the romantic atmosphere. On the other hand, we regretted not booking all the tables, even if it would have cost us a pretty penny. Because even in such a magnificent setting, the crowd of noisy people around us really spoiled the moment. Sometimes, the girls and I even had to raise our voices to hear each other. But the food here was excellent, as was the view from the “deck,” so we decided to stay.

“I could stay in Costa Sirena forever,” Blanche dreamily agreed with Octavia. “I have nothing against your castle, but just the thought of sitting there without a break for who knows how long…” The healer sighed.

“There, there,” Octavia patronized her, “you behaved well, so maybe now I will take you out for walks.”

“Really?” Blanche’s eyes lit up with hope.

“I’m not so cruel to joke like that,” Octavia smiled at her. “I even missed our old fort a little, right, Alina?” Olga addressed the chimerologist.

“Yes, me too. My hands are itching to work on some new chimera.”

I smirked. There was clearly something the girls were not saying out loud. Both of them missed far more than just work. But I didn’t tease them about it.

“You’ll have time,” Octavia waved them off. “Never miss home while you are traveling. You’ll only spoil your vacation! That’s a very important thing to remember.”

Considering that Octavia was on vacation for the first time in her life, this moralizing was somewhat misplaced. But no one had a chance to tell her that as she continued, “Anyway, the main thing is that we arrived just in time to catch the famous Costa Sirena carnival! You all have your costumes, right?”

* * *

Evening had not yet arrived, but Costa Sirena had already begun to transform. Instead of tourists dressed almost identically, the streets started to fill with locals who took the holiday seriously. The souvenir shops did their part, striving to partially dress the tourists in line with the carnival theme. This year, the festivities were dedicated to the ancient legend of the Sirens and the Salazars.

For me, this was a surprise. In my time, no one openly claimed that the Salazars were responsible for the disappearance or demise of the Siren clan. In fact, many were skeptical about the existence of the Sirens at all. Yet, now it seemed that the Salazars had woven an entire legend around this tale, casting themselves in the leading roles. Armand Salazar had always been the eldest of the great princes, and this story presumably took place long before my birth, during his prime. At that time, the Salazars weren’t yet a great clan; they shared influence over the city with the Sirens. The Sirens owned the coast and the ocean, where they fished and collected various gifts from the sea, particularly the unique pearls they cultivated and transformed into artifacts. They also possessed magic that allowed them to control the waters. The Salazars focused on winemaking on the mountain slopes, and life appeared harmonious for both clans.

According to legend, Armand had a sister named Violet, whom he introduced to a prince of the Sirens. The prince fell hopelessly in love with her and proposed marriage, but Violet did not return his affections. In retaliation, the Sirens kidnapped her against her will. The Salazars, though weaker than their aquatic neighbors, courageously entered battle. Burning with righteous anger, they slaughtered the Sirens, but by then, Violet was already dead. Realizing his side was losing, the prince had killed her himself in an act of vengeance for her refusal, ensuring she could never accept another proposal. However, evil often gives rise to some good. In that moment, the Salazars acquired the secrets of the Siren clan, thereby elevating themselves to a great clan, while the Sirens vanished from history forever.

Octavia recounted this story to us while we walked toward where the festival’s opening would take place. As we strolled, it became evident to everyone that people were not just dressing up as sea monsters — though there were plenty of those outfits — but rather portraying the main characters from the legend. Many were dressed as Armands, complete with his famous trident. There was also someone portraying Violet, the eternal bride, in the white wedding dress in which she was buried. The princes of the Sirens and their followers made appearances as well.

Interestingly, the Sirens were depicted in various ways; each interpretation was unique. However, a common theme among them was the portrayal of them as fish-people with distinctly monstrous appearances, reinforcing their role as the antagonists in this tale. I, too, had dressed as one of them, sporting a toothy shark hat, animal lenses, and a scaly suit. The girls had opted to transform into mermaids, garnering envious glances from the men around us, as any man would relish the opportunity to be in the company of such beauties.

Finally, we arrived at the city’s main square. Cars were banned from the center as usual, but even rickshaws were prohibited due to the holiday. Everyone wanting to access the carnival had to walk. In the central square, large, brightly decorated floats with marine themes awaited, ready to parade through the streets with dancers, musicians, and actors on top. Each float represented a different district of the city, and it was clear that they had all prepared in advance, striving to outdo one another with their lush and creative decorations.

“Wow, look,” exclaimed Blanche, pointing to the figure of a man meant to portray Armand on the very first platform. “That’s Bastian! The second person in the Salazar clan after his father!” I grunted but looked closer. The Salazars really did attach great importance to this story, sending such a significant representative of the clan to the festival. This was how legends were forged.

Upon closer inspection, I realized that the entire main float belonged to the great Water clan. A thousand years ago, Bastian was just a young pup, barely seventeen years old. But now he had matured, showing signs of age — not as much as the head of his clan, though, of course. Even from a distance, I could see several deep wrinkles etched into his face. It was clear that he had made significant strides in magic. He was no longer merely an archmage, having surpassed that title like all the great princes. It was no surprise that he had ultimately become the heir. Armand had older children, but almost all of them lacked any standout talents. I wasn’t even sure they had managed to survive the last millennium.

Finally, the procession began. Bastian reveled in the attention and admiration of the spectators, demonstrating several rather intricate tricks with colored water, creating figures in the air as if painting pictures. During this performance, an awed silence fell over the crowd; the chatter ceased as they became enchanted by the spectacle.

We moved along with the procession, appreciating the colorful performances from the dancers, who not only rode atop the floats, but also flowed alongside them. It felt as if the entire city were dancing in unison.

“Pay attention to that group over there,” Octavia suddenly whispered to me.

“What about them?” I wondered, failing to notice anything unusual. A couple of dozen carnival participants were spinning in an excited dance, outpacing one float after another. They wore simple costumes, portraying Sirens, but not in an exotic way — in a more humanoid form. Only their skin shimmered subtly in the light, resembling pearls, and their cheekbones had a strange protrusion, as if they concealed gills.

“I felt several artifacts from them,” Octavia reported. “Very powerful, either protective or combat.” Thanks to the clan abilities of the Scipions, the witch was a walking radar.

“Why go to the carnival with combat artifacts?” I scoffed. “Let’s keep an eye on them.”

We moved ahead, outpacing the other groups. A few gave us the stink eye, but most people didn’t care. The crowd danced, jostled, and moved in all directions at once.

The strange dancers aligned themselves with the first float. And then, unexpectedly for everyone, they jumped right onto it. And the slaughter began.

Chapter 3

THE CROWD ERUPTED WITH SCREAMS and people threw themselves in every direction. There was a crush. It was difficult even for gifted to navigate through the throng, especially for the weaker ones. They barely managed to activate their shields before those burst like balloons, even though no one was actively attacking them. The chaos and panic sent people darting around in a frenzy, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this crowd behavior led to far greater casualties than the battle unfolding on the platform.

My mermaids and I were not in any real danger. I immediately covered Alina with my own dome, and the other girls were more than capable of standing up for themselves. Still, being at the heart of the chaos was a drag, and we risked missing the most interesting part. The attack on Bastian Salazar was unfolding before us - a sight not to be missed under any circumstances.

Fortunately, in this chaos, even if I had started beating drums and the girls had undressed in a wild frenzy, we wouldn’t have attracted any notice. The ordinary spectators were solely preoccupied with their own survival, and the procession’s security focused on protecting the ungifted actors from getting caught in the crossfire. To my chagrin, Bastian Salazar was managing on his own.

I signaled to Blanche Villon to enhance Alina and Octavia so they could leap onto the roof of the nearest building. The historical architecture in the city center meant that the houses were at most three stories high. Next to us stood a two-story mansion, likely housing a branch of some bank. They needed to get to the top, away from the frenzied crowd.

The three girls used the much increased physical strength, agility, and other enhancements bestowed on them by Blanche Villon to reach the roof, while Olga and I simply teleported up there through the shadows. As I suspected, no one noticed our movements, allowing us to fully focus on the battle unfolding before us. Although it would be more accurate to call it a beating. Though the unknowns in Siren suits weren’t weaklings, there were far fewer Salazars than attackers. However, numbers didn’t matter when you had a mage of Bastian’s caliber on your side. His mastery extended beyond mere water tricks, and now his attackers were being flung away from him in all directions like bowling pins. No exaggeration — at least a dozen enemies had been hurled off the platform with just one spell.

And what a spell it was! He summoned a huge water kraken, whose water tentacles gripped opponents as if it were a living creature of flesh and blood. The kraken hovered above the platforms, as if the air were an ocean to it, requiring no support to fight. This made it even harder for the attackers to dodge its counter-attacks. Essentially, that single spell was all Bastian needed. The attackers aiming to eliminate the Salazar heir couldn’t come within a few meters of him.

When they lost another ten men, the surviving attackers began to realize that forces were not equal. However, stopping the battle proved much harder than starting it. The kraken under Bastian’s control dominated nearly the entire street, and the first to retreat found themselves ensnared in its tentacles. The creature crushed its victims like pathetic insects and tossed them aside.

“Blanche,” I whispered to her, “do you have any strength left?”

“A little,” she admitted. “I spent a lot on cleansing…”

“Help them,” I ordered. “Just do it, I’ll back you.”

She nodded and began casting spells on the attackers — or rather, on those who had already tried to escape. The enhancement spells were ones we had experienced earlier: speed, agility, strength. Of course, against a mage as powerful as Bastian, these enhancements wouldn’t help his enemies much in combat, but they did increase their chances of escaping from his kraken.

I placed my hand on Blanche’s shoulder, infusing her with my own energy to ensure she had enough for all these spells. It was indeed a struggle for her; even a mage as powerful as Blanche required significantly more energy to assist someone from a considerable distance. But with my support, she managed it.

About a dozen mages scattered, slipping away through the alleys from the main street. One of them was already being followed by my little lizard. I had no idea who they were, but since they were enemies of the Salazars, I was definitely going to speak to them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, after all.

* * *

The surviving warriors were clearly anxious about the Salazars discovering their presence, and with good reason. Although the carnival procession continued as if nothing had happened — bodies of the deceased having been swiftly removed from the road — Bastian’s spies were now patrolling the city. However, the attackers knew Costa Sirena just as well, if not better, so it seemed that the Salazars were unable to apprehend any of them. Moreover, the attackers were unaware of who had aided them, allowing us to blend into the crowd and exit the carnival unnoticed.

“Well look at that!” Octavia remarked, intrigued. “What serendipity! This is much more interesting than some carnival!” She had forgotten all about her initial eagerness to attend the festival. After the attack on the Salazars, she lost all interest in the procession and was now intent on discovering the identities of the assailants along with the others. “Actually,” she suddenly recalled, “I think I heard that about ten or fifteen years ago, there was an assassination attempt on Armand Salazar in Costa Sirena. They never caught anyone, either.”

“I think the Salazars know who their enemy is; they just don’t publicize it,” Blanche shared her thoughts. This incident had also been a topic of discussion among the Villons at the time.

“Oh yeah?” I said. “Was it also during the masquerade?”

“No, it was just like that. Armand had come to personally meet with the head of a vassal clan for some reason. Maybe he wanted to see the city for himself. You know that Costa Sirena no longer formally belongs to the Salazars, right? The Demare clan has ruled here for about two hundred years.”

“Curious,” I grunted, then contacted Lifeng and asked her to look into any further information regarding the attacks on the Salazars.

In a few minutes, she returned with a report: “As you said, strange attacks on the Salazars have been occurring for quite some time. Typically, at least ten years pass between them, and at most seventy. Most often, they occur in Costa Sirena, but there have been similar cases in other regions as well.”

“Cities on the coast?” I suggested.

“Yes,” Lifeng confirmed. “How did you guess?”

“Just did, that’s all,” I replied, not wanting to share my thoughts just yet. In any case, today I planned to learn everything I could about these mysterious enemies of my enemy. Lifeng wished me luck and disconnected, asking me to keep her updated.

The man we had been observing finally emerged from the attic where he was hiding from the Salazars. He looked completely changed and even slightly disguised, having found what he needed in one of the boxes the attackers had secreted up there. This suggested they were aware the situation might result in a rout, and were prepared to hide and flee.

Winding through the alleys, the man led us to a fishing hut on the ocean shore, far from the main beaches of Costa Sirena. Almost all of his surviving accomplices had already gathered there. Just as I was about to announce my presence by knocking on the door, another latecomer appeared on the horizon. The girls and I decided to let him go ahead and waited a little longer. But a minute later, it turned out that the latecomer wasn’t alone. He’d brought an entire squad of Salazars with him.

They didn’t knock on the door; they simply crashed through it, sweeping away not only the door itself, but also the walls of the hut. They had clearly hoped the roof would crush most of their enemies. But the attackers were no weaklings, despite the impression they may have given against Bastian. In reality, they were all strong mages - at least destructors. They quickly dug themselves out from under the rubble and prepared to fight.

However, the Salazars appeared stronger, even without their clan heir in the mix. Instead, there were two archmages and several executors, who immediately began invoking combat spells of increased complexity. They trapped enemies in water prison bubbles and summoned boiling geysers from underground. Many of them activated magical weapons like ice swords or spears.

Interestingly, their enemies also wielded water magic, but they still lacked the skill to match the Salazars. After taking a moment to assess the situation, I decided it was time to act. I charged into battle, ordering Olga, Alina, and Blanche to support me.

Octavia was not my subordinate, and I had no intention of commanding her, but I knew she wouldn’t miss this opportunity either. The Scipion witch charged into the fray with enthusiasm that rivaled Olga’s, who was always eager to finish someone off — exclusively for a good cause, of course!

Need I say that after my team and I entered the battle, the Salazars had no chance left? Even Alina had become a serious threat to the enemies, especially with a chimera by her side. Furball organized another festival for the enemies, this one decidedly much bloodier. And we hadn’t even brought her flock of canaries with us!

With our support, the mysterious opponents of the Salazars managed to fend off the assault with minimal losses. All that was left was to get acquainted. “Who are you?” one of them asked cautiously, stepping forward. Like the others, he had already changed out of his masquerade costume, now resembling an ordinary tourist — except for his skin, which had a strange pale-pearl hue and a facial structure I had noticed during the battle on the platform. Their prominent cheekbones particularly caught my attention, as if something lay hidden underneath. What it was became clear only gradually.

As we silently studied them, their leader asked, “Why did you help us?” A nervous ripple passed over his face, and finally, it became evident to all of us what was unusual about him: he had gills. Real gills beneath his cheekbones, just like a fish. As long as the muscles of his face remained still, the gills pressed closely to the skin, concealing them almost entirely.

Blanche grabbed my hand, drawing my attention, and whispered quietly, “It’s not just the gills. Their whole organism is very strange… they are closer to sharks than humans.”

Our interlocutor overheard and immediately became wary. “She realized this just by looking at us?” he asked, beginning to lose his composure. “Who are you? We must kill anyone who learns our secret! And yet you saved our lives!”

Given the legend of Costa Sirena and their feud with the Salazars, there weren’t many ways to determine who they were. It was hard to believe, yet on the other hand, wasn’t I in a similar position? Smiling, I replied, “You are the vanished clan — a legend that no one remembers, and if they do, they picture you as monsters. In this, we are alike. Your story goes back centuries, so perhaps you have heard of the Richters? I am one of their last representatives, and Armand Salazar is my enemy. He destroyed my ancestors just as he once did yours.”

A murmur ran through the surviving Sirens. They all wanted to discuss the situation among themselves, but their leader gestured for them to stop. “My name is Azurion,” he introduced himself. “Yes, indeed, we are Sirens. And now, all that what remains of our clan wants is revenge on the Salazars. Whatever you’ve heard is a lie from beginning to end.”

* * *

“Are you trying to tell me we missed them again?” Armand Salazar asked sternly, looking at his son through holographic communication. He appeared almost like a living person, full-length in Bastian’s office, despite being more than two days’ journey from Costa Sirena.

“They are killing themselves; it’s hard enough to catch one alive,” Bastian replied dejectedly. “Each of them keeps a capsule of poison right in their mouth. I’ve already taken samples, but they all managed to poison themselves before passing out.”

“What about those who escaped?” Armand almost growled. “How could you allow this? You also lost an entire squad of strong warriors.”

“I’m sorry, father,” Bastian hung his head.

Armand snorted. “I don’t need your apologies. I need clear answers. How could a mage with your experience and power suffer such a failure? Maybe I should have entrusted this operation to your sister?”

“No, father,” Bastian replied in an even more defeated voice.

But when Armand Salazar reprimanded his children, he did so at length. He spoke with feeling, substance, and emphasis, ensuring that the guilty one was utterly devastated. “You refused to take my people with you. You said that a squad from your personal guard would handle any surprises.”

“Perhaps the enemies have become stronger,” Bastian tried to justify himself.

It was in vain. Armand became even more agitated. “Perhaps? So what readiness are you talking about then? All your preparation for the operation is worth shit! Just like you yourself.”

“Father!” Bastian attempted to say something else, but Armand cut him off.

“Be quiet. Learn to admit your mistakes. You are pathetic, and your useless justifications only dig the hole you’re in deeper.”

“Yes, father,” Bastian conceded, returning to a posture of submission once again.

Armand continued to rant. “I did everything I could. We specifically provoked these fish, doubling our efforts to spread our version of the legend. We specifically lured them out with my direct heir — You!” He almost shouted. “And what now? You’re telling me we don’t have a single lead again?”

“I’m sorry, father,” Bastian replied, the only thing he could muster.

“No, son. Now, if you want to remain my heir, your task is to lure the Sirens back to land within a year. I’m not ready to wait another fifty years for these cowards to gather strength and attempt again. I need them now. Do you understand?”

Armand was nearly shouting again, and Bastian simply nodded in response. When the head of the Salazar clan disconnected, his son let out a sigh, but the relief was short-lived. Knowing his father, he had no doubt that Armand would follow through on his threat. Armand had long sought a reason to appoint Diana or Valentina his heiress. Conversations often revolved around his sister. Armand’s youngest child was also very gifted. He doted on her, and even the fact that she still lagged behind Bastian didn’t seem to bother him. Sometimes, Bastian felt that Armand was actually afraid of him. In recent years, his father had significantly weakened, while Bastian had broken through the archmage ceiling, achieving a level of magic that had seemed unrealistic before, coming close to rivaling his father’s power.

But therein lay a challenge: like his father, Bastian would soon start to age rapidly without the secrets of the Sirens. The Salazar clan was not like the other great clans, whose princes were practically immortal by nature. They fought for their strength every day.

Bastian would not allow his clan to fall, even if his father didn’t believe in him. Especially because his father doubted him.

Chapter 4

NATURALLY, WE DID NOT LINGER near the ruined hut, nor did I leave behind a whole squad of dead Salazars. I refrained from raising them as my servants in front of the Sirens, however. Although I had introduced myself as Richter, implying a connection that might lead them to certain thoughts, as the memory of my clan lingered in their lineage. But no matter how prepared you are, many people still tend to get a little squeamish when they see the dead rising and beginning to move. So, until we had moved away with the Sirens, the newly risen undead Salazars lay still, pretending to be ordinary corpses. But once we vanished from sight, they rose and made their way toward the sea to cover their tracks. I planned to hide them there for a while. Bringing them to our base immediately might not be safe until I was certain their path couldn’t be traced.

The Sirens led us to another fishing hut, much farther from the city. It turned out that some of them worked as fishermen in Costa Sirena on a nearly permanent basis. They maintained a completely legal business, which allowed them to gather information about the surface world, as well as various items that they took with them underwater.

“Do you live right in the water?” Octavia couldn’t contain her curiosity. “Or are there some air-filled niches? Or maybe even high-tech cities?”

Azurion looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but even though you saved us, there are things we cannot share with outsiders. Especially not without permission from our superiors.” The Scipion witch shot him a dangerous, displeased look in response.

Azurion flinched but did not back down. “Once again, I apologize. Perhaps someday we will even be able to invite you to our home, but not now.”

“Alright,” Octavia sighed disappointedly but accepted his arguments. “Since it’s a matter of clan survival and all…”

“Exactly!” the representative of the Sirens exclaimed, his expression brightening. “I am so glad you understand!”

“That’s not what we’re here for,” I reminded everyone, settling into a chair by the fireplace. The cabin had a very cozy atmosphere. The only drawback was the persistent smell of fish that permeated every piece of furniture here. It seemed large groups frequently gathered in this space, as the spacious living room featured two sofas and a massive rectangular table that could easily accommodate ten people. There were just a few more of us than that here now, but there was ample room to stretch out. The Sirens took their seats at the table while the girls settled on one of the sofas. To my surprise, our new acquaintances actually knew what hospitality meant and offered us tea. They didn’t offer coffee, though. For some reason, it seemed they simply didn’t drink it, so they didn’t keep it at home either.

Once the pleasantries were concluded, Azurion began telling the story. It was a lengthy account, as he tried to recount every detail, whether important or trivial. No one interrupted him.

The feud between the Salazars and the Sirens had begun almost two thousand years ago. Back then, even my grandfather was young and had not yet become a lich, and I hadn’t been born at all. Armand Salazar had just come of age and founded his clan — one that was very weak, not standing out among the hundreds of others, most of which have long since vanished in history’s meat grinder. At that time, the Siren clan already held some influence, and was clearly poised for further development. Their gift was unique and extremely peculiar. The only drawback was that it required long study, and the mages grew in strength in a way that wasn’t quite typical. The clan legend of the Sirens even suggested they were not human and had come into existence by some accident of nature. Yet, it was believed this event had occurred so long ago that nothing certain was known about it anymore. The Sirens lived quietly and peacefully in the city they had founded themselves. The town’s name still preserved a part of their history.

And then the Salazars arrived in Costa Sirena. Like many other small clans, they sought permission from Estuar, who was then the king of the Sirens, to settle there. Estuar undoubtedly granted them this request. Moreover, they quickly found common ground with Armand. Both clans derived their magic from the same source: water. However, their principles and approaches to mastering it were fundamentally different, which provided an additional reason for their alliance.

Of course, none of them intended to disclose family secrets, but eventually, that became moot. Estuar fell hopelessly in love with Armand’s sister, Violet. This was where the Salazars’ version of events held true. Violet did not reject the Sirens’ ruler; on the contrary, both families happily began preparations for the wedding. It was seen by all sides not only as a union of two loving hearts, but also as a complete merging of clans.

Being the younger and weaker mage, Armand saw nothing shameful in taking his place in the council of the Sirens and helping Estuar rule the city, with hopes of further expanding his influence. But that was merely talk.

On the wedding day, when no one could fathom war and betrayal, both erupted. Taking advantage of the fact that nearly the entire leadership of the Siren clan had gathered for the celebration, the Salazars treacherously attacked their would-be relatives, killing almost everyone in attendance.

Violet also perished while attempting to protect her fiancé. She was the only one from her clan who remained oblivious to the terrible treachery being plotted. Her sacrifice allowed Estuar to break free from the ring of enemies and lead a portion of his people underwater, where the Salazars could not reach them. Despite the loss of many strong fighters during the botched wedding, the ruler of the Sirens held on to hope that they would return soon, avenge their fallen kin, and reclaim their city.

But that never happened. The Salazars stole the secrets of the Sirens’ clan, combined them with their own, and became much stronger than they had ever been — far stronger than the Sirens themselves. Armand Salazar transformed into a near- unstoppable monster, and for many centuries after the cursed wedding, the Sirens were forced to watch him rise to become one of the most powerful mages on the planet.

And that’s how Azurion’s story came to a close. “Estuar is long dead,” he said. “But our clan will never acknowledge a final defeat by the Salazars. One day, we will destroy our enemies and return to the surface world. We will reclaim Costa Sirena and restore justice.”

The story made a profound impression on the girls, especially Violet’s sacrifice and the Sirens’ fierce determination for revenge. Olga found a connection between their clan’s tale and our own.

Yet, facing the facts was unavoidable. “No offense,” my granddaughter said, “but it doesn’t seem like success is that close.”

“Unfortunately,” Azurion replied with a grim exhale, “since we went underwater, our clan has become truly combat-ready. We learn to fight from birth until we die in battle against the Salazars. We develop our magic and energy potential. We do everything we can. But we still can’t catch up to the Salazars. We almost reached their power a thousand years ago, but they began using abomination!” he exclaimed, his anger evident. “And we had to start all over again.”

This revelation unveiled an additional reason for Armand to join the conspiracy against me. It seemed his empire was under threat at that moment. No wonder he would grasp at any chance to protect himself.

Well, the time to settle accounts had finally caught up with him. Only now, those debts were many times bigger.

“Azurion,” I said gravely to my new ally, “I need a way to contact you, and I need you to promise that you won’t take any action without consulting me. There’s no need for you to lose more people in this endless war. Remember, the main thing now is not the battle, but the victory. Armand Salazar and his clan will pay for everything. We will destroy him together, and you will rightfully reclaim what is yours.”

* * *

The decision to solidify our alliance with the Sirens was postponed for another time. Of course, Azurion had come to trust us. Why wouldn’t he? We had taken out an entire squad of Salazars right in front of him. But he still said that his clan would need time to discuss everything properly. Moreover, even though he held a very high position in his clan as a marshal and commander, the decisions were not made solely by him. In any case, the situation still required thorough examination and understanding. Judging by the power of just Bastian alone, we would need to prepare.

As for us, we already had enough to keep ourselves occupied. A war with the Villons was looming. Today marked the last day of our almost spontaneous vacation. Despite everything that had happened, the girls were determined not to waste a single second. So, until nightfall, we didn’t return to the hotel even once. The beach, restaurants, souvenir shops… I think we covered the entire city. The girls also visited many places without me while I enjoyed my coffee and a beautiful vista of nature or architecture at a table in a street café. Costa Sirena had always been a wonderful place, and that hadn’t changed over the years. There was much to admire. A couple of times, we encountered Salazar patrols, but thanks to the disguising artifacts, no one gave us any mind.

But even the longest day comes to an end, and eventually we returned to our rooms. Judging by how quickly the girls’ laughter quieted down behind the wall, Olga, Blanche, and Alina fell asleep almost instantly. Octavia turned out to be somewhat more resilient, and we had a great time before she fell asleep, while I sank into thought. The story with the Salazars and Sirens opened up new possibilities for me.

Under cover of night, I ordered my new undead to get to the base, where work was also in full swing. My other dead servants were setting up the inside of the warehouse, preparing to receive the first cargo.

Suddenly, I felt something very strange—as if a gigantic source of energy had formed right next to us. As I was busy scanning my organism, the lights in our room turned on and people in white coats entered. They moved me and Octavia onto stretchers and rolled us down the corridor to the street. Fortunately, I could still control the shadow scout, allowing me to see similar stretchers emerging from the neighboring room, carrying the other girls from my group. As far as I could tell, they were all unconscious — even Blanche. This meant that no control over one’s own body, even at the most subtle level, could help against this misfortune. Both the necromancer and the healer were clearly unprepared for this chaos.

“What happened?” a guy in his underwear burst into the corridor from a room near the elevator.

“Don’t worry,” one of the “doctors” immediately replied. “The guests must have eaten something in the city at local cafes and gotten food poisoning. It happens.”

“Seriously?” the guy asked, surprised.

“Yes, yes, under no circumstances buy food from random vendors. Eat at the hotel.”

If I could laugh, I certainly would have. But instead, I had to silently listen to this absurdity. Eventually, we were rolled out to the street, where two ambulances were already waiting. The kidnappers were well-prepared. In Costa Sirena, besides rickshaws, only emergency services were permitted to use the roads.

If only I knew who these kidnappers were. Had the Salazars somehow tracked us down? Possibly, but highly unlikely. Neither I nor my shadow scout noticed any tails following us. In any case, I would deal with who and why later. Right now, the main priority was not to miss the moment.

Along with the lizard, Furball was also nearby. I sent her into the car where I was being shoved in with Octavia. The masking spell was sufficient so that no one noticed anything amiss. I executed the same trick with the shadow scout, sending her into the second car where the girls were taken. Almost immediately, our kidnappers settled into the front seats and drove off.

As soon as we left the hotel grounds, I began to act. I was certainly intrigued to discover where they intended to take us, but perhaps this time I would have preferred to find out in a different way. I could likely escape from any trouble, but I had four girls with me, and anything could happen to them — especially if an enemy of Bastian Salazar’s caliber awaited us at the final destination, which was not at all out of the realm of the possible. I couldn’t take that risk.

So, Furball immediately charged at the driver of my “ambulance.” Swift and deadly, she instantly tore his throat out. He didn’t have time to make a sound, and neither did his partner. The second man missed both Furball and the moment when the driver, already under my control, plunged a dagger into his heart. The dagger, by the way, was found right on his belt. There was also a holster with a gun, but I decided against making noise to avoid alarming the bastards in the neighboring car.

What to do next remained just as unclear as it had been a couple of minutes ago. While the undead driver resumed control of the vehicle, I took command of the second kidnapper. Now he was rummaging through everything within reach. Strangely enough, this yielded results. Eventually, I stumbled upon a certain briefcase, inside which was a burst sphere that suspiciously resembled the energy source that had deprived me of control over my body. Next to it lay a jar with a suspicious substance and a syringe. While I wasn’t entirely certain that it was an antidote, the probability was too high not to try. I ordered the undead to move quickly to me and start slowly injecting the substance under my skin. Slowly, so I would have time to react if something went wrong and it turned out not to be an antidote. However, with each drop of the substance entering my bloodstream, I regained more control over my body.

Once I regained full control, I had to incapacitate this machine. As soon as I got off the stretcher, the abomination it was working on rushed into me and the ambulance lost control. Fortunately, the road was clear except for the second car of the kidnappers. I had my driver slam on the gas before we broke down to ensure we crashed into them.

BOOM!

The force of the collision shook the vehicle, completely shattering the front windshield. The radio hissed, and one of my future servants asked, “What the hell? Is everything okay over there?” Of course, I didn’t answer. Let it be a surprise. They didn’t seem eager to get out, nor did they want to hang out here for long. As soon as the kidnappers in the second car realized their friends were silent, they immediately attempted to floor the gas pedal. Naturally, I didn’t allow that, managing to touch their vehicle beforehand. The abomination poured into me again, and now there were not two cars on the road, but two piles of scrap metal that would only move again if their insides were completely replaced.

With that, I calmly walked around the ambulance and opened the driver’s door, confronting the still surviving kidnappers.

Chapter 5

“HI. COULD YOU GIVE ME A RIDE to the beach?” I couldn’t help but ask, looking into the petrified eyes of the kidnappers from the second car. They had no idea what was happening, but they were scared shitless.

One of them managed to gather his courage and responded, “Listen, man, I’ll take you wherever you want, I swear! I’m just a driver!”

I calmly plunged the shadow sword into the heart of the second one and asked, “How will you take me if the car won’t start? It’s not good to lie.”

“I... I’ll think of something. I’ll do everything! Everything I can! I swear! Look, there’s an abandoned rickshaw! I’ll carry you on my own two feet!”

“Was there only one antidote?” I clarified.

“Yes... yes... I’m sorry!”

“Get out of the car,” I ordered.

Without a thought of resisting, he complied immediately. Just then, Furball jumped onto his shoulder with a guttural growl. “Just move,” I warned him, “or you’ll become a snack for my pet, just like one of your comrades in the other car did.”

He swallowed nervously, glancing at the long sharp claws displayed by the chimera. I added, “One move and you’re dead. Don’t even think about reaching for your phone or weapon. The weapon won’t help you anyway, believe me.”

“Y-yes,” he stammered in response.

I jumped into the second ambulance. Since there was no more antidote, I would have to become one myself. Considering the power of the artifact, I wasn’t sure I could quickly revive all the girls. But if I was lucky, Blanche would already be on her way to consciousness, making it easier to pull her out of the faint than the others. Like necromancers, the Villons had their own reserves of strength and control over the body. When I placed my hand on her forehead, I could readily feel she was already fighting the effects of the spell. But not quickly. Without my help, she wouldn’t have managed even within a few hours. They’d hit us with something very powerful.

“Who did this?” was the first question she asked when she came to.

“We’ll find out soon. Let’s wake the others first.” I nodded toward Olga and Alina lying nearby. We also shouldn’t forget about Octavia in the other car. Blanche acknowledged my glance, and we began treating the other girls together. This needed to be done first, as there was no guarantee a combat squad of enemies, whoever they were, wouldn’t show up soon.

“Max,” Blanche addressed me as we brought Olga back to her senses, “I think I know what knocked us out.”

“Do you think this artifact is the work of your clan?” I guessed.

She nodded. “Uh-huh. But anyone could have used it, so…”

“Do you know the antidote recipe?” I asked her.

Blanche blushed. “No... I haven’t worked in laboratories. I’m a pure combat healer; I heal during battles, cast support spells, and all that. But any pharmaceuticals are a dense forest to me.”

I nodded. “That’s okay. We have a whole crowd of Villon laboratory workers in the fort. They can handle this task.” Even if they didn’t, I would have to solve it myself and somehow replicate this formula. Ignoring such a danger would be criminal negligence, especially with the war against the Villons looming, who apparently produced this substance. Ideally, we needed not just an antidote but a vaccine.

“Argh!” my revived granddaughter gasped for air. “Where are we?!” She tried to get up, but it didn’t work at first. However, she was still doing well. Her body had begun to fight the magical influence of the artifact, which at least indicated that she was still practicing relaxation. This spell can have almost infinite potential, but many necromancers of the past simply ceased practicing it once they reached a level that satisfied them, which was usually not very high. Nevertheless, I had always considered this skill fundamental in the field of necromancy. The better a necromancer can control themselves, the greater their ability to manage chimeras and other undead. I, for example, still regularly practiced relaxation because there is no limit to perfection. I tried to instill a similar attitude towards this spell in my students, and it seemed to be working so far. Alina and Octavia also hadn’t let me down; I could tell they weren’t slacking in their training, though they lagged behind Olga in skills. My granddaughter, by the way, had gone into a rage upon realizing what had happened. So now the surviving wretched kidnapper, with Furball on his shoulder, had another pissed overseer. His future prospects were looking even grimmer.

Right now, though, we needed him to quickly provide answers to all our questions, and he had no chance of withholding them from us. It’s not often that necromancers, curse casters, and healers gather in one place. But when they do, anyone in their way is doomed.

I didn’t intend to conduct the interrogation on a public road, though. It was a miracle that no one else had seen us or disturbed us so far. While the girls led the survivor into the nearest dark alley, I decided to tidy up a bit behind us. The fresh undead immediately headed for the warehouse, taking roundabout routes, of course. With Lifeng’s help, we had already figured out the escape paths around the city cameras in Costa Sirena. I cleaned up the blood and other DNA traces using a decay spell. That way, whoever searched the vehicles later would find absolutely nothing. I also took the suitcase containing the destroyed artifact-sphere and the remnants of the antidote. When I rejoined the girls, they had already managed to extract a good half of the information we were interested in, almost without resorting to torture and threats — well, maybe just a little.

“Those bastards were spying on us!” Olga greeted me with an explosion of indignation. A minute later, the remaining information poured in. It quickly became clear that the hotel of perverts was the least of our problems. However, that didn’t mean we should dismiss it. I always welcomed any opportunity to replenish our supplies of undead.

Once again, I rejoiced that the incident had occurred on a deserted and lonely street in the city, where there were no curious onlookers. We finished off the last living kidnapper, and like the others, he followed his companions of his own accord — straight to the warehouse. We moved in the opposite direction, almost as if carried along by the wind, across the rooftops of Costa Sirena. Blanche enhanced each of us with magical blessings, enabling us to return to the hotel in just a couple of minutes, practically flying over the city.

We entered the hotel grounds not through the main entrance, but from above, and were going to make our way down through the attic. There were two reasons for this. First, we didn’t want to scare the hotel management prematurely, which, by the way, lived on the top floor. The second reason was that we didn’t want to accidentally disturb the ordinary vacationers. They were already stressed out and going to face numerous interrogations from law enforcement officers who would arrive to sort out the situation once we were far away, perhaps even in another city.

“Aaah!” squeaked Blanche as we found a way into the attic. Something was indeed moving in the corner, and a complex range of feelings flickered across the healer’s face. Mostly, it was horror and disgust.

“Don’t worry!” Alina responded immediately. Furball dashed to the corner, returning a second later with a huge rat in her mouth. She proudly placed the rodent’s body on the dusty wooden floor between us and let out a triumphant meow. I stifled a laugh. The mini-chimera could take down enemies in droves, but in that moment, she displayed a primal instinct. However, Blanche turned even paler at the sight of such a gift, and her primal fears spoke for her too. Who would have thought that a Villon of her caliber would be afraid of ordinary rats?

She seemed to realize what a foolish position she had put herself in and now tried to assume an unflappable demeanor. “Just… what if it was someone’s scout? Like Max’s lizard!”

Strangely enough, we didn’t encounter any other rats, except for those hiding behind the mirrors of the hotel rooms. Figuratively, of course. In reality, almost all of them were sitting in the surveillance rooms on the top floor of the building. They were all weak gifted, so clearing them out was no harder for us than it was for Furball to catch her prey. We even managed to avoid noise and screams, usually finishing before any locals could recover.

After that, it was just a matter of covering our tracks. Unfortunately, this required sacrificing some potential corpses. I still decided to take a few, but most had to look like they’d been involved in some local showdown. For greater effect, I tossed a shattered sphere-artifact of the Villons into one of the rooms. We had no use for it anyway. However, the Demare clan, a vassal clan of the Salazars, would surely be interested in such a toy, especially in light of the attack on Bastian. If they latched onto Katharine with questions and claims, it would be the best outcome of all. The more she became entangled in conflicts with the other princes, and the more her reputation sank, the better it would be for us.

We also had no reason to linger here for long. As we learned from the kidnapper’s testimony, they had indeed been taking us to the Villons. Someone from the hotel staff had recognized Blanche, for whom a staggering reward was set. But they were afraid to simply report her whereabouts. After all, the Villons could come and take the runaway without any reward, which didn’t suit our traffickers at all. So somehow, they managed to negotiate with the great clan and even received a powerful one-time artifact in advance, capable of temporarily incapacitating anyone — all to capture Blanche.

Just as I had suspected, Katharine was furious about the fact that her clan was ready to engage in such dubious deals. I strongly suspected that creating even one such artifact required a significant amount of resources, but the kidnappers had still managed to acquire it. We were being taken straight to the station, where they planned to hand us over directly to the Villon squad. For a moment, it seemed appealing to show up there now and take them all out, but the thought of leaving them looking foolish appealed to me far more. Especially considering the likely intervention of the Salazars.

Before calling the police and representatives of the local ruling clan, the Demare, it was prudent to clean up all traces thoroughly. “Lifeng,” I had to wake our hacker. “There’s an urgent matter.”

“What’s up?” she asked sleepily but was immediately ready to work. I explained to her that we needed to infiltrate the enemy’s internet system and erase any mentions and video recordings related to us, while leaving everything else untouched. If it weren’t for that last condition, I could have easily just broken their equipment along with all the information storage.

My granddaughter carried out Lifeng’s instructions. Under her guidance, she performed some manipulations on the local administrator’s computer, facilitating Lifeng’s infiltration from the outside. They managed to accomplish their tasks quickly, and just a few minutes later, I heard an emotional, “Gouge my eyes out! I don’t want to see this!”

And then, “I didn’t mean to, honestly! You’re all very beautiful, but I never wanted to know you this closely!”

“I won’t tell anyone what you saw,” I laughed in response. “And I’ll take my reward.”

“Alright,” Lifeng replied, “but life hasn’t prepared me for this.” A couple of minutes later, she added, “You can leave. I’ll handle the rest myself. And I’ll send distress signals to everyone who needs to know.”

This was great news. I was just wrapping up covering my tracks. The decay spell was particularly useful in that it allowed me to eliminate even unwanted fingerprints. At the same time, it could be finely tuned so that the fingerprints and bio-material of my enemies remained untouched. We decided to exit the same way we had come in — through the roof. The belongings we left in our rooms would be discreetly transported out by the undead porters, who had been playing the role of our rickshaws all this time.

“Maybe... we should go down too?” Blanche timidly suggested. “No one will see.”

“It’s not worth it,” I replied, continuing toward the exit to the attic.

“But we can split up! I can go down, for example... and someone else. That way, it will be harder for them to track all of us! I heard that when there might be surveillance, you should always split up to confuse the enemy!”

“Don’t worry,” Alina said, reading Blanche like an inexperienced schoolgirl lying to her parents about a bad grade for the first time. “Furball won’t let a single rat get to you.”

“That’s not what I meant at all!” Blanche protested hotly, but no one believed her.

We reached the base quickly, mostly moving across the rooftops. “How great!” Octavia rejoiced. “We are like a clan of vampires on the hunt!”

“And it’s a full moon!” Olga suddenly chimed in. “Such a beautiful night…” Of course, considering the books on her shelf, it was no surprise that the two girls found common ground in vampire romance. However, Alina and Blanche didn’t particularly share their enthusiasm, wisely opting to remain silent.

When we entered the warehouse, work was in full swing. The cargo turtles had delivered the first batch of goods, and the undead were busily arranging boxes on the shelves. The main detail was that the tunnel was already wide enough to move through comfortably, and the assistants recruited by Alina had managed to complete the project for the new chimera.

In shape and color, it resembled a large ladybug. But under its wings was a spacious capsule that could accommodate several people at once. There was just enough room for the five of us, though it felt a bit cramped. I needed to enchant the capsule with special signs and a ritual to ensure it wouldn’t let any abomination inside. This was important because the underground route from Costa Sirena to the capital had one drawback: it ran directly under the foci, meaning that if a gifted — especially one who wasn’t a necromancer — were transported, they risked fully regaining consciousness before their journey ended and possibly not surviving. I wasn’t going to take that risk with either Blanche or Octavia. Leaving them to languish at the base for days while everything calmed down wouldn’t have been the best solution either. So, we had prepared a plan b in advance.

“She turned out so cute!” Alina exclaimed like a child, admiring the new chimera. “Just like I wanted!” However, as we sped through the tunnel, the chimera specialist suddenly froze, wearing an extremely focused expression on her face. I understood she was memorizing everything happening around her to figure out how to improve our Ladybug. The other girls also appeared deep in thought. There had been far too many experiences in the last few days.

Suddenly, Octavia’s laughter broke the silence. “That was some vacation!” she exclaimed, amusement bubbling through her words. “We should get paid!” The other girls joined in her laughter.

“That’s Max,” Olga declared with a knowing look. “Never a dull moment.”

Octavia nodded. “I still don’t understand how ordinary people relax at resorts. I wouldn’t trade this adventure for anything else!”

Chapter 6

“CAN WE REALLY not stay?” Blanche asked hopefully when we reached the old fort. Despite the fact that at Octavia’s castle she would have much more comfortable conditions than here — where she didn’t even have her own room, and for at least the first time, she would likely have to share a bedroom with someone — Blanche still resisted the idea of returning to confinement. After nearly complete freedom in Costa Sirena, even the old fort seemed more appealing to her. As she put it, “At least there’s something happening here!” There were some familiar faces present too. She was acquainted with most of the lab assistants, at least superficially. They not only belonged to the same clan but also lived and worked in the same city.

However, even though staying here would be nearly as safe as in Scipion’s castle, Octavia reminded her of some other things. “Every vacation has to come to an end, Blanche. You remember we have that launch coming up, right? The new line of cosmetics? You are the face of the ‘Youth of the Villon’ brand; don’t take this lightly!”

“But we can do that right here…” the healer tried to argue.

“No, we can’t,” Octavia replied sternly. “We need to shoot a whole bunch of advertising materials. And before that, we need to dye you red again. I won’t transport the studio here for a whim. It would be difficult and time-consuming. We have to launch the advertising campaign before the Villons attack; after that, it will be too late.”

I nodded in agreement, adding, “Besides, it will soon get too noisy in the fort. We can’t afford to accidentally lose our goods or products. So, for a while, everything of value will move either here or to the warehouse in Costa Sirena.”

Blanche had no choice but to sadly agree with us. After that, she and Octavia climbed back into the Ladybug to head to the capital. I would have gladly let them stay. The girls’ company pleased me. But right now, I still couldn’t devote enough time and attention to them. Too many tasks needed to be completed before active hostilities ensued. It was better that we celebrate our victory together later. For now, everyone needed to focus on their own tasks without getting in the way where their presence wasn’t intended.

I felt calmer knowing that Blanche was staying with Octavia. No Villon, except for those who had already joined me, would think to look for her being sheltered by the Scipion family. Moreover, Octavia had set up an excellent studio for advertising shoots. She approached this work with such enthusiasm that I was seriously considering officially making her a business partner once everything settled down. Which, it appeared, would be happening soon.

Lifeng had already informed me that almost all the Villons Katharine had begun gathering here had arrived in the city. Not all, though - some were still en route. The hacker had identified the stragglers, who would arrive in the capital no later than five days. Knowing Katharine, she would engage in battle immediately after that. To be honest, I was surprised by how long she had managed to maintain her so-called secret preparations. Her skill in long-term planning had always been practically nonexistent. But her show of patience also indicated the seriousness of her intentions.

I wasn’t just going to wait for her to start fighting. In this regard, I was considering various options for diversions. I would have liked to repeat what happened on the train. However, since they were traveling to the capital in small groups, it would mean that the number of random casualties would have to be significantly greater. Moreover, it would take much more time than it would bring real benefits.

On the way to Costa Sirena, I had a comprehensive conversation with the train chief and gathered all the information about how the Desmond railway service operates. Unfortunately, it worked efficiently. Any malfunctions on the line were fixed within a few hours — too little time for it to be of any use. To pull off any significant disruption, we would need to send squads of fighters and chimeras to the railway each time, resources that could be better utilized elsewhere, perhaps on more important and interesting tasks. Moreover, if we abused the railway too frequently, the Desmonds would notice and might intervene. We didn’t need that right now.

However, those most worried about what was happening were the lab Villons. Not all of them voiced their concerns, but it was evident from their demeanor and the way they worked. Only Louis dared to speak to me about it, and even then, he was brief, trying not to reveal how much it troubled him. One day, he joined me for breakfast and, as if casually, asked, “Aren’t you at all scared of what’s happening? Katharine clearly wants to tighten the noose around our necks. Yes, it’s safe in the fort, but the capital has already turned into a trap.”

I smiled and replied, “Indeed, Louis. You have observed correctly. But all this only shows how afraid Katharine herself is right now. Believe me, it isn’t they who locked us in. It is we who are locked in with them.”

Olga, who was sitting next to us, laughed eerily at my words. Louis nervously swallowed, went pale, and excused himself, claiming he had urgent work. However, Olga was also troubled by various questions. Now that we were alone, she asked, “Listen, we are going to use that relic, right? When will you tell us what it does? It’s a combat artifact, isn’t it?” Ever since we stole grandfather’s phylactery from the museum, her curiosity had been unrelenting. Octavia, too, shared the same eagerness.

Scipion still believed I was merely a descendant of the Max from ancient times, so she accepted my explanation that I didn’t know and needed time to sort everything out.

It wouldn’t be so easy to fool my granddaughter, however. She wouldn’t believe that I didn’t know something, especially if it was related to our clan. Still, I didn’t want to discuss grandpa just yet. She would undoubtedly want to meet him; after all, he was another member of her family. Knowing Olga, the fact that he was also a lich wouldn’t bother her at all. She already considered Fred almost family. I definitely wouldn’t have time to perform the ritual before the war. Why upset her unnecessarily when I couldn’t arrange their meeting?

Fortunately, that wasn’t the goal anyway. If grandpa wanted to take part in the battle, which was likely, he could wreak such havoc on the Villons that even intervention by other great clans wouldn’t shift the outcome much. After the war, he would become my problem. So no — it was better for him to remain a nice big trump card up my sleeve for now. We could meet some other time. Moreover, his participation didn’t seem essential for victory over the Villons. I hadn’t expected to obtain his phylactery so soon and easily at all.

“Yes, Olga, this is a combat artifact,” I replied to my granddaughter, continuing almost without lying, “but right now it is useless. It needs to be charged first — and in a special way. We won’t have time to do that before the war, so it’s pointless to occupy my mind with it for now.”

“Okay,” she responded, somewhat disappointed. “But at least you’ll take me to cleanse the fortress?” I pretended to think. “Please! I’ve already served my punishment and won’t get in the way anymore!”

“Alright,” I answered her, “but today is our reconnaissance day, remember?”

“Yes! And, as you asked, I’ve selected some phantoms who are ready for the reconnaissance operation,” she said, glancing around to ensure no one else was listening. “Kira and Lev are not on the team. They are good fighters, but they also need to work on their discipline.”

I smiled. Hearing such reasoning from Olga was indeed unusual. Perhaps her time with Prokhor had genuinely influenced her for the better. It was nice to see her taking her responsibilities seriously and considering the team’s dynamics. “Good call,” I said. “We need to ensure that everyone is on the same page if we’re going to succeed.”

* * *

I love surprises. But, as it turned out last time, not all my students are ready for them. So now, before crawling into the lair of another boss of an eternal focus, I decided that reconnaissance would not hurt us. Around the old fort, there were only three and a half such foci left. The half is that epsilon where I met Dino, but I didn’t take the main gemstone nucleus. But now, everything was different. I planned to collect all four gems. One of them I already possessed, and the other I could take at any moment. I just had to destroy two more bosses. This needed to be accomplished in the next five days.

So I didn’t delay the reconnaissance. We decided to start with the second epsilon and then move on to the more challenging kappa. Five more phantoms with personal chimeras set out for our reconnaissance mission, besides me and Olga. We planned to do the cleansing tomorrow, so today the participation of many was not required. Even Prokhor was not included in our team; we figured it would be better for him to spend an extra day training his guards.

It seemed that Olga had carefully chosen the team. The phantoms who were with us had very strong nerves. Although the former recluses were generally accustomed to the creatures of the focus — having lived beside them their entire lives — they had only dealt with weak monsters. Before meeting me, it had never even crossed their minds to confront a boss or anything from its retinue. They were afraid of such powerful monsters, especially since the spell of false death provided no protection against them, as this meant the monsters would immediately attack if they noticed movement nearby.

We needed to get as close as possible to the main gem of the hub and remember as many details as we could about both the boss and the terrain. Otherwise, what was the point of all this reconnaissance? While we approached the target, we had to practice the utmost caution.

And still, surprises proved unavoidable. As usual in such cases, I tried not to interfere too much in the process so as not to hinder others from gaining experience. Leading our procession was one of the phantoms, Dietrich. According to Olga, he had a special talent for focusing. He was almost on par with Lev in learning new spells, but he was much more serious. Now, his restraint was undergoing a serious test. He passed by another mutant tree, behind which even Dino could half-hide. A mini-boss lay in wait — a huge bear, two human heights tall, approaching us silently as it prepared to pounce like a cunning hunter. As soon as Dietrich found himself in front of its massive, tusked face, the bear opened its mouth and charged. I was ready to rescue the unlucky phantom, but he managed to surprise me. Without flinching or screaming, he instantly teleported behind the monster. I tensed up a bit, expecting Dietrich to attack the creature. In any case, Olga — the reckless type — would definitely have tried to do that. But instead, the phantom teleported a few more times while the surprised bear shook its head from side to side, trying to understand what had just happened. Eventually, the clumsy beast had to retreat deeper into the poisoned, tainted forest, having found no one.

From this encounter, I concluded that despite their impressive size, these monsters could sneak up on enemies almost silently. Had Dietrich’s reflexes been slightly worse, the bear would have left him headless in an instant. In light of this new knowledge, we had to retreat a bit further from the center and devise a new plan. Going further ourselves was too dangerous. So instead, I ordered the phantoms to send only their chimeras into the fray. Moreover, it was a good opportunity for them to practice observing the surroundings through the eyes of their pets.

We needed another hour to scout the center. The main boss turned out to be a bear as well, but even more formidable and larger. If the monsters from its entourage stood at two human heights, their leader had grown to four. And, as expected, they were hunters — cunning, fast, and silent. Even as we returned to the fort, the phantoms and Olga still couldn’t believe how quietly these creatures moved. Unfortunately, because of this, two phantoms lost their pets and were now gloomier than storm clouds. They needed to be shaken up.

“It’s too late to despair,” I said. “Yes, you didn’t keep track of your chimera. Yes, you made a mistake. But instead of gloomily staring at your shoes, draw conclusions from this and not let it happen again. Think about the fact that you could have been in the place of those chimeras. Who among you would have been able to calmly get out of the way if they were in Dietrich’s place?”

A couple of upset guys exchanged glances and then honestly replied, “No one.”

“So consider that this experience was the lesser of losses for you. You will receive a new chimera tomorrow. But no one will ever provide you with a new head. Work and train. Especially since you already have good examples to follow.”

My small speech had a real effect, and the expressions of the embarrassed phantoms brightened. Dietrich managed to surprise me again; despite having distinguished himself today, he remained modest and dignified. I should pay more attention to this guy; perhaps he deserved additional training alongside Lev and Kira.

Olga also behaved extremely restrained today, only letting go of control when we returned to the fort. “I can’t wait for tomorrow! Max, have you already come up with a plan? How many people will we take? Can we go to Dino? Will Prokhor and the guards be there? And will you and Alina be making new chimeras?” She bombarded me with questions. Some I answered patiently, but I intentionally avoided others.

Olga was not just my heir and a fighter; she was one of the leaders of our, albeit still small, army. My granddaughter must be able not only to fight well, but also to analyze the situation on her own, to plan strategy and tactics independently. She was worse at this than Prokhor, but I hoped that over time she would improve this skill. So I redirected some of her questions back to her, asking how she envisioned the upcoming battle. Olga thought for a moment. “I love simple and straightforward fights,” she finally admitted, “but I still understand that’s not always the right approach. Our main resource now is people. They all need to become strong necromancers, not perish somewhere in the fort because we did a shitty job planning.”

I nodded, smiling as I listened to her reasoning. Say what you want, but my granddaughter really knew how to be sensible when she wanted to be. She continued: “The simplest way to avoid casualties is to trap the enemies. But we won’t catch these monsters off guard just like that. We have to be very careful so we don’t get gobbled up ourselves. These creatures are very cunning and sensitive. But I have a couple of ideas.”

Olga smiled and began to explain her plan. First of all, she, of course, couldn’t help but suggest simply taking Dino and several other chimeras with us. With their help, we could repeat today’s tactics — keeping ourselves at a distance and using the pets in the fight. But then she expressed another very sensible thought: losing even part of the chimeras right before the war would be unacceptable waste. We were going to have to use all of our cunning. I almost completely approved her second plan; it was practically the same as what I had in mind. I just needed to make a few important adjustments. Olga listened intently and memorized the details. “Yes. This is indeed much better,” she said.

I patted her on the shoulder. “Since you understand everything, go and explain the task to the phantoms. I’ll instruct Prokhor in the meantime.” She nodded and ran off while I headed to the training ground, where the guards were once again playing Prokhor’s game.

But today, they would have to learn a couple of other tricks. We only had one day to clear the epsilon. We couldn’t afford to take a long time with it. Because the next one on the docket was a kappa.

Chapter 7

THE PREPARATIONS TO ASSASSINATE the boss bear were by no means limited to one reconnaissance mission. We had to send several more squads into the center of the focus of chimeras, leading to our overall losses increasing. One phantom squad lost a couple of their pets. But they also gained invaluable experience. It was crucial for us to know the exact position of the boss and its junior associates, and all their possible movements. To complicate matters further, as we had noted the first time, these monsters had extremely keen hearing and sight. They noticed the approach of enemies from a great distance and reacted immediately.

But not by rushing at opponents mindlessly with the intent to tear them apart in the way that typical focus monsters would. Instead, the bears set ambushes and traps. For example, on our second outing, I observed that the main bear had a mental connection not only with its bear cubs — let’s call them that — but also with other focus monsters, including plants.

One of our chimeras perished from them. It got too close to the boss’s habitat, and just as it was about to retreat, a net trap suddenly appeared in its path. One of the trees had fashioned this trap from its own branches, and ensnared the chimera. Then, once the boss got closer to it, it made quick and easy work of tearing it into small pieces.

“You’re right...” Olga said, watching this through her chimera’s eyes. “Charging straight at them is a really bad idea. There’s no way to catch them off guard, and that means many unnecessary casualties.”

I nodded, and my granddaughter pondered for a moment before asking, “Although... What do you think of sending a pack of mini-chimeras against the bears? They camouflage well.”

“I think these bears possess not only extraordinary sight and hearing, but also magical intuition. So camouflage is unlikely to be of much help. Besides, the only mini-chimera with enough strength to harm monsters of that level is Furball. And she alone is clearly not enough.”

Olga frowned. “We need to train the others from her pack. Do you mind if I take them hunting in the focus more often?”

“Talk to Prokhor about it. That’s a task for the guards.”

Olga blushed slightly at the mention of Prokhor’s name, but quickly masked it.

“They’re already training with them, but it’s too slow. I want the mini-chimeras to catch up with Furball faster. She’s cool.”

“All in due time,” I smiled.

* * *

The time to confront the bears arrived at long last. After spending an entire day and night preparing, we set out with two large squads. The guards didn’t participate in reconnaissance; instead, they handled the bulk of the preparations. So, they rallied for the clearing in full force.

As for the phantoms, we only took the best of the best with us. Their task was not to engage directly in the battle, but to remain on standby. They were to ensure that ordinary monsters from the focus didn’t interfere with the fight or prevent the bears from escaping. Considering the boss’s intelligence, I fully anticipated such a scenario. It must have been programmed to protect the gem of the focus at all costs, but how it interpreted that directive was unclear. What if it believed that a temporary retreat would better ensure the crystal’s survival? These were extremes we hoped to avoid. Our entire plan hinged on the idea of trapping the boss, not the other way around.

Fortunately, we didn’t need to develop a new strategy. The trap was set in advance. This wasn’t the first time we had collapsed the ground beneath an enemy.

The challenge now was to act very carefully so as not to alarm the boss and its entourage. When Harry and the moles began to dig right beneath the boss’s dwelling, the bears somehow sensed it too. They weren’t about to stay where they knew it was unsafe, so we had to abandon the first tunnel we had planned. The task became more complicated. Now we needed to dig a tunnel in such a way that those creatures suspected nothing.

“Too bad we can’t attack them from the air,” Olga sighed, as the bears sensed something during our underground work. She was right. This focus was a particularly dense forest, and the crowns of the mutated trees covered every part of it like a solid carpet.

Even if we had been burning it with napalm, breaking through this deadly flora without losses was practically impossible. The poisoned plants were surprisingly resilient. Like a hydra, when you cut off one head, three grew back. Nevertheless, we figured out how to lure the creatures into a trap without them sensing anything. It took considerable effort. We created several maps detailing their movements, the most complicated being when they were in a state of rest. Then we studied their behavior during ambushes and how they acted if provoked, often without even trying to hide. We conducted extensive analytical and strategic work to ensure everything would go smoothly this time. The guards stopped at a safe distance from the boss, while the phantoms took up defensive positions just behind us. Underground in the tunnels, armadillos crowded together, covering the spiders, reapers, and undead armed with Gryphons.

Now everything depended on Prokhor and how well he would manage to lead Harry along the route we had planned. Of course, I could handle everything myself, but that was no fun. It was far more enjoyable to watch my pupils argue about who should drive Harry. As always, Olga was eager to go first. Alan had talked a big game about being ready to take on the large chimeras any time, any day, and so on, but it so happened on the day, he was busy at the club — what a pity! Prokhor wanted to impress Olga, naturally, so he was making a case for why it should be him, not her. And then there was Alina, being the most normal of the group, calmly drinking coffee with me, knowing that if her help was needed, I would ask for it myself.

In the end, Prokhor won, and now appeared paler than the moon and gloomier than a cloud. He knew that if he messed up now, the reputation he had painstakingly built up in Olga’s eyes would crumble like a house of cards, and she would never let him live it down to the end of his days. I suspected that worried him much more than the potential failure of the mission. This was, perhaps, the only flaw of my students: they have too absolute a faith in my ability to correct any of their mistakes, with no consequence to the cause.

But everything was going well. Focused, Prokhor led Harry right along the route we had planned, and the worm was finishing the last touches on our trap with a huge drill. The bears, of course, sensed the danger, but we already knew where they would run in this case, so Harry pressed on, tightening the proverbial noose around their necks.

KACHUNK!

With one last push, the earthen niagara of dirt clods fell into the deep pit we had prepared, taking the bewildered bears down with it. Below, our pets and servants were waiting, blocking the tunnels they had come through. It was the armadillos, spiders, and reapers, along with the undead.

Now everything depended on the guards and how well they could command these undead creatures. The armadillos were the only ones capable of withstanding a bear’s blow; they had to prevent the monsters from reaching our rear. The spiders aided by shooting webs, slowing the creatures down. Then the reapers and the undead entered the fray. The reapers circled around the bears like they were in a ballroom dance, distracting them while trying to avoid getting hit. Meanwhile, the undead fired explosive bursts from machine guns at the bears.

The bears, for the first time in the role of prey rather than hunter, were utterly befuddled. Some attempted to escape. A couple succeeded, managing to leap onto the boss’s back before jumping out of the pit and running away. However, our phantoms quickly came into play, driving them back with their hounds as if they were ordinary forest animals.

We had a victory by evening, and gathered in one of the castle halls we used as a dining room to celebrate.

“Too bad the bears aren’t real,” Olga lamented. “I could really go for a bear steak!”

“You like bear meat?” Prokhor was surprised. He finally relaxed and felt like the hero of the day.

“I don’t know,” Olga admitted, “but I’m sure Fred would cook it perfectly.”

Kira interrupted the conversation. She and her husband, although not present during the reconnaissance, had participated in the final clearing.

“Actually, the focus monsters are quite edible. How do you think we survived there all this time? There are great cooking methods…”

“Ugh,” Olga couldn’t hold back, but then corrected herself, “sorry, I know you had no choice, but I’m just not ready for that kind of experiment yet.”

“Well,” Kira shrugged, “it’s not as bad as you think. The minced meat from the exploded jumpers isn’t much different from chicken — just tougher and a bit bitter. But that’s easy to fix with spices. And fatties mostly taste like beef. The only downside is that the level of doneness always has to be high. If the meat is even a little undercooked…”

“Please, stop!” Olga pleaded. “Spare us the details! No one should try this if there’s an alternative.”

Judging by the disgusted looks from Prokhor, Alan, and Alina, they all agreed with my granddaughter’s sentiment. Kira shrugged again, the lesson in questionable cooking finally over.

Fortunately, we had plenty of food even without the focus creatures. Food delivery from the capital was uninterrupted, and there were always fresh vegetables and meat in the fort. We also had drinks. But today, I allowed the guys to raise only a couple of glasses in honor of our victory.

That was because tomorrow we faced another tough day. Today had been an epsilon, but now we had to cleanse a kappa. That was a whole different level; one day might not be enough.

* * *

“Look at this place… the sheer scale of it,” Prokhor whistled.

Indeed, we had never been to the last kappa, so we had no idea what it looked like. Now we stood frozen atop a high hill, overlooking a vast valley below. This valley was surrounded by similar hills, many of which could genuinely be considered full-fledged mountains. From one nearby mountain, a waterfall noisily cascaded down, transforming into a river that split the valley into two parts. It would have been a beautiful view if it weren’t for the abomination spoiling everything. Under its influence, the waterfall had become murky and dirty, as did the river. The grass and bushes either grew black or brown, and every blade of grass here seemed to be hellbent on devouring us.

So the overall picture was bleak and alarming. The scale was indeed staggering, but there was nothing to admire here. Except…

From one of the distant mountains, a large shadow detached itself. No, it was not just a huge shadow. A monster with a wingspan comparable to that of a pteranodon — I’d say about twenty-five or thirty feet. In fact, as it approached, it became apparent that a pteranodon was exactly what it was. Behind it, a tight flock of smaller monsters followed, resembling pterodactyls, each with a wingspan of about ten feet.

It was interesting to ponder why two prehistoric foci had appeared near Fort South. Apparently, several large colonies of dinosaurs once inhabited this area, and many of their bones remained in the ground.

“Are we just going to stand here and watch?” Alan asked nervously. This time he had come with us on the recon mission, which it seemed he already regretted. The monsters were rapidly approaching, and all of us understood that without preparation, these creatures would easily rip our heads off and feed them to their little chicks.

“Relax, Kowalski,” Olga patted Alan condescendingly on the shoulder. “We don’t exist for them yet. We haven’t crossed the boundary of their focus. It’s weird that you don’t know that,” she added sarcastically. “You’re the one who’s been a cleanser all your life.”

Alina was not bothered by the monsters at all. “Just look at that soaring beast! Does it look like a jumper? Or a fatty? No... it’s most like a flying squirrel! They can both fly!”

“Oh dear,” Olga continued to mock Alan, “too big a monster for you? Don’t worry, I didn’t tell Dino how scared you are of him. And I won’t tell this one either!”

“That’s not fear!” Alan retorted. “It’s a normal human instinct for self-preservation. It’s not my fault you were born without it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Alina either,” Olga said, patting him on the shoulder.

Kowalski shot her a spiteful glance but wisely chose not to escalate the conflict.

Meanwhile, I was carefully examining the valley. Earlier, I would have tried to memorize every detail of the landscape, especially since my memory was very good. But now it was enough to “record” everything for Lifeng, sending her information directly from my eyes. In a few minutes, that information would arrive at the computers in the fort in photo and video format. It was more convenient and faster than making sketches for the others later.

“We’re going back,” I commanded after a few minutes. We turned back.

“You’re looking very pensive, Max,” Olga noted as we entered the fort’s gates. “We’ll manage this boss, right?”

“Yes,” I replied shortly, but my granddaughter wouldn’t let it go.

“Then what’s the matter? I can see something is bothering you.”

Prokhor seconded her: “To be honest, the task really does look very difficult.”

The others in our scouting team also seemed a bit down, but I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn’t notice it right away.

“You’ve returned!” an excited Alina ran to meet us. “Max! Lifeng has already sent the video!”

“Great,” I smiled widely at her. “It’s just what we needed, right?”

Alina even started to dance with delight under the surprised gazes of the others. “I was afraid we wouldn’t find anything like this before the war, but this valley is just wonderful! For a second, I even wanted to go with you on the clearing.”

“And you will go,” I replied. “You’re excellent at driving the chimeras, which is extremely important in this battle. Besides, you are one of the few who won’t need an explanation of what we need to do.”

“Yes!” The girl rejoiced, then turned to the others and said sternly, “Don’t even think about damaging this excellent material! All flying chimeras must be destroyed with minimal damage! And the boss... don’t even breathe on the boss!”

“Alina...” Alan began softly, “I get it, but isn’t this too much? Killing that creature won’t be easy as it is...”

“Alan,” she looked at him tenderly, “you are a smart man, I’m sure you’ll come up with something. I’m sure you and Max will find a way! But I need their bones and flesh! Intact!” A truly devilish fire ignited in the eyes of the sweet and kind girl.

It was rare to see our Alina in such a state. But sometimes, the prospects opening before us literally blew her mind. Even I was sometimes surprised at how quickly she transformed into a mad scientist, ready to live day and night in the laboratory just to find some interesting solution and create a new chimera. And now she had a very legitimate reason for her joy. We had long discussed how much we lacked materials to create truly large and powerful flying pets. It was very difficult to create something with wings from non-flying creatures; at best, it would be something very small. We needed the good stuff.

We also lacked flyers for anything truly interesting. The ones we had didn’t so much fly as they dove and swooped from above — moderately suitable, we had been using them out of a lack of resources. But this kappa... Like me, Alina understood that we had stumbled upon a real treasure.

Chapter 8

“GET READY!” I COMMANDED. “Remember, our goal is to neutralize, not to destroy!”

This didn’t excite anyone except Alina, but each of the fighters was well-instructed. Most even had time to practice in their new roles. However, considering the specifics of the operation, only four were playing the leading roles now: Olga, Alina, Prokhor, and me. Alan was there too, but he was on standby, as he still lagged behind the others in controlling a large number of chimeras.

He had no such problem with people, however. So while Prokhor and Olga were busy, Alan ensured that the guards and phantoms acted as effectively and cohesively as possible. He was supposed to be assisted by Lev and Kira in case something needed urgent adjustment. Mastering shadow teleportation magic, they could quickly move across the battlefield and intervene where help was needed, or clearly convey new instructions.

As they had with the bears, some of the phantoms formed an outer circle of defense to keep anyone unnecessary away from those engaged with the boss and his entourage. In this focus, most of the ordinary creatures also flew, but the instructions regarding them were softened. Small monsters were not valuable enough for the laboratory to justify increasing our risk of losses and injuries. So, the phantoms just straight-up genocided them.

The most interesting stuff was happening over the valley. Closer to its center, a huge pteranodon soared overhead, accompanied by its pterodactyl friends. Below them, several large ice wolves raced toward the muddy-brown river. Alina and I had worked all night on them. They were called ice wolves not for the crystal-blue color of their fur, but because of the magic we infused into them. They had magical runes of a level of power we had not created before shaved and tattooed onto their bodies.

Both spiders and canaries spent much less energy and were weaker, but they could outnumber the enemy. We had managed to create only four wolves, so each of them needed to be a force to be reckoned with. Moreover, we had created them for a very specific task. Now, under Prokhor’s control, the wolves formed a circle and howled loudly. A wave of icy air burst from each open mouth, and all four streams swirled together in the middle, forming a large tornado vortex. It would take time for the twister to develop into a real maelstrom, though, which could not go unnoticed by the boss and its entourage. The pteranodon began to descend rapidly. That was when Olga and Alina entered the fray. Two large flocks of blue canaries, under their command, rushed from both sides straight at the enormous flying monster, showering it with rain, snow, hail, and every other type of thing. Canaries of other colors and elemental powers also joined the battle, commanded by the guards. It was decided to use fire and electricity with caution, so the guards only supported the flocks of blue canaries and dealt with the ordinary focus monsters.

The girls had several serious tasks at once. They needed to prevent the monsters from getting close to the wolves and exhaust the opponents as much as possible. Water and ice magic were chosen as the primary forces for this battle. No bird likes to fly in the rain. Though nature had ensured that their feathers repelled water, their wings would still get wet and become heavier, affecting their entire bodies. Of course, our boss didn’t have feathers in the traditional sense, but their bodies were not entirely bare either. And any creature, even one infected with abomination, when frozen severely, becomes slow and cumbersome.

“Well that’s weak!” Olga managed to express her outrage while controlling her pack. “I always thought dinosaurs and lizards were cold-blooded creatures. But it turns out…”

I nodded. “Yes. If that were the case, we would have frozen them much faster and easier. But most dinosaurs were warm-blooded, so the task becomes a bit more complicated. Still manageable, though.”

However, no matter how hard the girls tried, they couldn’t stop all the monsters charging the wolves. Fortunately, they managed to distract the boss, but some of the pterodactyls were already almost on top of the four of us. That was when I stepped in with another squad of new chimeras.

They appeared, to put it mildly, not very pleasant, resembling black blobs or puddles of slime. Alina immediately called them slimes, commenting that such creatures appeared in her favorite anime or video games as the simplest and weakest monsters. In our case, all they needed was to be sticky. As soon as the pterodactyls descended low enough, the slimes began to bounce like basketballs, striving to latch onto them. If even one succeeded, the monster would soon be completely covered in sticky slime, crashing to the ground, unable to break free.

Meanwhile, the wolves continued to spin the icy tornado. The whirlwind had already risen thirty feet off the ground and was at least three feet in diameter. It still wasn’t enough yet to pose a threat to the pteranodon, but the flocks of canaries were managing that for now.

This suddenly created another complication for our fighters. The sight of the aerial battle was so captivating that some of the warriors, instead of focusing on their tasks, kept getting distracted and, of course, immediately lost control over the chimeras. Alan, Kira, and Lev had to constantly bring them back to their senses.

We were fortunate that this Kappa was positioned in such a way that almost all of us could remain at a relatively safe distance from the monsters, watching the battle from the top of the mountain. Only the chimeras engaged in direct confrontation. Of course, some of the fighters were not too pleased with this arrangement. Some hotheads would gladly have jumped into the battle themselves. We had to cool them down. Practically no one present was truly ready for the dangers of the kappa focus, especially one as complex as this.

The anthill had also been a kappa, but there, with coordinated teamwork, one could engage in direct combat with them. Even so, losses could not be avoided there, either. Right now, we were doing everything we could to gain as much as possible and give nothing in return — except, perhaps, my magical powers. Almost all the spells that our chimeras were casting now drew from the energy source within me. That was a price I was willing to pay. When there is so much abomination around, energy reserves can be restored quickly, even if it is monstrously painful. But if all my people stayed alive and we acquired a lot of valuable materials for the lab, it was definitely worth it.

“Wow!” exclaimed Alan, as he ran past me. “That whirlwind is huge!”

Indeed, the tornado had already risen nearly to the height of the boss’s flight, slowly starting to suck in the monsters from its entourage. It drew them in while simultaneously freezing them, making them swirl around inside like ice cubes. I knew that I would have to be very careful dispelling the spell if I didn’t want those ice cubes to shatter.

Seeing this, the pteranodon suddenly realized what was happening. I had noticed more than once that the higher the level of the focus, the smarter the monsters within it. The boss understood the threat coming from the whirlwind and tried to get as far away as possible. We couldn’t have that.

The girls rearranged their flocks of canaries to form a tight ring around the boss. Yes, we had to sacrifice some chimeras, but better that than fail to kill the boss. We certainly had a plan b, but that involved losses, too — likely, even more serious ones. The canaries, which looked like tiny bugs against the backdrop of the pteranodon, delivered small icy jabs and managed to drive it into a corner. More accurately, they cornered it into the whirlwind. When the tornado finally caught it and began to spin it around, we lost almost a third of all the canaries.

But we were victorious — and what a victory it was! We had achieved everything we wanted with minimal losses. While the pteranodon spun in the whirlwind, gradually freezing to death, the space around us filled with joyful cries. Most pleasantly, I also felt many energy surges nearby. This meant that numerous fighters had either leveled up, or were on the brink of a challenge. For instance, Prokhor, Alan, and Alina were ready to graduate up from magister. Olga was now poised to become a destructor. I smiled happily. All of this was very timely. Katharine was in for some unpleasant surprises in the upcoming war.

As soon as we obtained the gemstone — a dark purple color similar to the one in the anthill — and I personally oversaw the delivery of the pteranodon, which had to be dragged by a whole dozen undead, I ordered everyone to return to the old fort. The pteranodon was impressive. Once it was on the ground, I examined its powerful wings. I was surprised to observe that they were not leathery like a bat’s, but covered with elongated scales at the tips that resembled feathers. The wingspan of the monster was at least thirty feet by rough estimate, and the elbow bends ended with growths resembling claws, making the wings also weapons. But its main weapon was its bony beak. I could easily imagine the monstrous power of its strike if the chimera were infused with power in a certain way.

I entrusted the remaining loot to be carried by the chimeras under the guards’ supervision. After Prokhor’s exhortation, it was unlikely that even a claw would fall off our future flying servants. There was no point in delaying the challenges, so when we returned to the old fort, I immediately began instructing those who would be going through them for the first time. There turned out to be fourteen people. And even more had stepped up to magister level, mostly among the guards. The phantoms had all long since mastered this level.

But Olga was the main star. She was developing very quickly, even by talented necromancer standards. Now, she was the only one ready to advance to the level above executor. Fortunately, she didn’t need to be instructed anymore; she had successfully passed her first challenge earlier and was fully prepared for the next one, both physically and morally.

“What do you think, Max,” she asked me before it started, “will I learn anything new about my family again?”

I shrugged. “No one knows what the challenge will be like. The only way to find out is to go through it.”

Olga sighed. She was clearly nervous and gathering her strength.

“Alright. It’s time!” she finally said firmly, and went up to her room.

* * *

“Leave me alone!” Olga shouted, pushing away a twelve-year-old brat who immediately flew back six feet. But she had not won yet. To her surprise, Olga realized that she herself was not much older, and she was surrounded not by just one annoying girl, but several. Moreover, they clearly did not have the friendliest intentions. They didn’t start throwing punches, but they were definitely not shy with their words.

“Don’t touch her, idiot!” one of the annoying girls defended her friend.

“You’re done for! I’ll tell the caregiver everything! You’ll be punished again, you brat!” echoed another little girl with curly red hair.

“Drop dead!” shouted a fourth troublemaker, the oldest among them — or maybe it just seemed that way due to the heavy makeup she wore.

Suddenly, Olga remembered everything she wanted to forget. What had almost faded from her memory, like a scarred wound. This was an orphanage school, and she had nowhere to run. She had herself lived in the orphanage, and now she was seeing all the same hated faces again.

Olga did not get along with her peers. The girls took an instant dislike to her as soon as she arrived. She was an outsider. As for the boys, they only tried to find a way to get her attention, but they lacked the ability for anything other than pulling her hair or cornering her in the hallway. Maybe some of them liked her, but they did not want to be friends; they wanted something else. Olga quickly gave up on trying to get close to anyone. The orphanage became a prison for her, where she was simply serving her sentence. Her only solace was an old gazebo in the park. She would hide out there with a book — most often, it was a mystical novel where the coolest guy in the area fell in love with a lonely, unhappy girl. Maybe he was a vampire, a werewolf, or just a dark wizard. He would protect her from all the bullies, and eventually, the girl would become almost as strong as he was. And they would live happily ever after

The threats from her classmates usually remained empty words — just like the insults they stuck on her backpack or the messages scratched onto the doors of her stall, which she habitually crumpled up and threw away. But today, it seemed her tormentors had devised something new. As she walked past the restroom, all four of the nasty girls suddenly pounced on her and dragged her inside.

“Hold her tight,” shouted the curly-haired one. Olga didn’t even scream; she silently struggled, still not understanding what they wanted from her. Those brats were capable of anything, but so far, they had never really tried to hurt her badly.

Then, the girl with the makeup, who had wished her dead in the past, pulled out a pair of scissors. That’s when Olga understood everything. Of course they didn’t want to stab her. They intended to mutilate her — specifically, to cut her hair. Olga could endure other humiliations, but this was a hair’s breadth too far.

The curly-haired girl had long threatened to do this, and now she was about to actually do it. One of the girls gripped her hair tightly, making it harder for Olga to break free. After all, there were four of them and only one of her.

For some reason, losing her hair felt incredibly offensive and shameful, causing tears to well up in her eyes. Olga had long stopped caring when people said nasty things about her or when they ruined her belongings. She had resigned herself and ceased valuing anything — whether her reputation, or material things. But now, they wanted to take away what little she had left: her right to look the way she wanted.

“You deserve this, bitch!” the makeup-covered girl said, very crudely for her age. “That’ll teach you to shake your ass in front of the boys!”

“They only look at you because they know you’re easy! But you’re just a freak! And now everyone’s going to know it!” Of course, all of this was a lie. Olga couldn’t care less about the local girls or boys. But no one cared about that.

The resentment and rage boiled stronger within her as she felt something shifting in the atmosphere, something happening to her and one of her tormentors. The curly one, who had been holding Olga tightly by the shoulders, suddenly went limp like a rag doll, while Olga felt a surge of strength.

“What have you done, you little bitch?!” one of the other girls shouted, jumping back in horror.

At that moment, the bathroom door swung open sharply. One of the teachers rushed in at the sound of the screams. Olga knew perfectly well they weren’t coming to rescue her, and she was right. Quickly assessing the situation, the teacher shouted, “What have you done to her, you scoundrel?!” She rushed to the curly girl, attempting to bring her to her senses. Once she confirmed that the girl was alive, she looked back at Olga. “You! Disgusting little brat! How dare you harm another student! It’s no wonder you bear the name of the cursed clan! People like you shouldn’t even exist! We only tolerate you because the world needs leeches!” The teacher was practically spitting with hatred. “Don’t you dare bite the hand that feeds you! Go, get your punishment!”

Chapter 9

“ARE YOU DEAF, you disgusting little Richter bitch?!” the teacher continued to shout. “Get to the punishment room right now!”

Olga flinched, remembering that storeroom-cell where she had been sent so many times for the slightest offense. This time... it was the same. She sat alone for several days, consuming only bread and water, not even allowed to go to school.

But none of that mattered now. What Olga had overlooked in the past now took on new colors. The teacher had called her clan cursed. What did she know about it? What could anyone in this orphanage know about the Richters?

This realization shook her. Olga quickly cast off the suffocating chains of her past that were trying to pull her into this childhood nightmare, making her forget that it was all long past, that she was completely different now and no longer alone in the world. To the terrified screams of her tormentors, she activated her shield and shadow blade. “How do you know about the cursed clan?! What do you even know about the Richters?!” she exclaimed, pressing her weapon to the teacher’s throat.

“Ask someone else,” she replied disdainfully, “The principal, for example.” The nasty lady burst into laughter and began to mutate right before Olga’s eyes. Her head, adorned with a silly bun, melted like slime, her hands became covered with growths, and her clothes tore away, exposing her deformed body. At the same time, the tormentors began to change as well, transforming into the most grotesque focus monsters Olga had ever seen.

Which suited her fine. Yes! She definitely liked it more this way! Killing monsters was the most enjoyable thing in the world, and if those monsters asked for it, all the better. The familiar fire of rage ignited in Olga’s eyes, and heads started flying, as well as other body parts. It quickly became clear that nearly everyone in this school was a mutant, as if a focus had opened here.

But she kept her eye on the prize. There was a reason the teacher had mentioned the principal. Olga didn’t have a full grasp of how these challenges worked. Max had said you couldn’t learn anything new from them. But recalling something forgotten was another matter. Olga skillfully made her way to the third floor, where the principal’s office was located. If she was deterred by any monsters, it was only momentarily. If she had stopped to think about it, she would have been surprised herself by how much her fencing skills had improved recently. But she was laser-focused on her goal, clearing everything in her path until she got to the desired door and flung it open.

She was surprised to find the principal was still human. This did not deter her from demanding the same answers from him as she had from the teacher. The principal, a filthy old man, shrugged and replied, “Your last name... Richter, it was listed in the accompanying documents. We had a good laugh back then about how some leech had the same last name as ‘the Scourge of Antiquity.’“

Olga could not extract anything more from him, no matter how hard she tried. In the end, she simply finished him off just like the others. With that, the challenge was over.

* * *

“Where do you say this orphanage was located?” I asked Olga after she finished her story.

“Tasmalia… it’s an island far across the ocean.”

“Well, your subconscious couldn’t have made that up. One of the adults in that orphanage must really have mentioned the Richters and the ‘Scourge of Antiquity,’ which surely refers to me. The fact that they remembered it when the whole world had forgotten about us — this is a lead. It definitely needs to be looked into.”

“I think so too!” Olga responded enthusiastically. “What if we find information about other members of our family there?”

“Anything is possible,” I agreed, but right now we still couldn’t leave, so there was nothing more to discuss for the moment. I shifted the topic. “Shall we go have dinner? Your friends should have gone through their first challenge by now. Let’s go find out how they are doing.” She nodded, and we descended to the dining hall.

She had handled the challenge excellently, and I couldn’t help but feel pleased. Finally, there was at least one more mage in the clan besides me with a large energy reserve. Of course, having a large reserve doesn’t automatically mean being able to use it effectively. But Olga was a capable girl, so I felt optimistic on that front.

None of my main pupils appeared to have had any issues with their challenges. All three were waiting for us at the round dining table, and Fred was, as always, bustling about, setting the utensils, plates of food, and mugs of drinks in front of us. The strong aroma of coffee immediately lifted my spirits even more. Whatever was going to happen tomorrow, everything was going according to plan today. Even though the largest war I had participated in since awakening was looming, I saw no reason to spoil the evening with nervous fussing. In general, I have always preferred not to fuss. You can’t achieve more than what is possible anyway. But, if you prepare intelligently, you can always achieve enough to secure a victory.

“Max!” Alina exclaimed, delighted by my appearance. “Everything worked out!” Usually, our chimerologist was much more quiet and reserved, but first the flying focus boss, and now the challenge, had given her a real spiritual uplift. She chatted non-stop, which was completely unlike her. Even Alan looked at her warily, unsure how to respond to the changes. Alina continued, “I have never felt so much energy inside myself! Does this mean that now I can power many more chimeras?”

I nodded. “Exactly. Until now, most of the servants and chimeras we created received energy from me, simply because the others had a very limited supply of strength. But now that you’ve become stronger, new options have opened up. Moreover, spending energy in this way will be beneficial for your development. Especially when you breathe life into the undead or chimeras yourself; with the strong connection that creates between you, it’s much easier to control them.”

“What did you see during your challenge?” Olga asked with her characteristic directness. Momentarily, the old Alina returned. She looked down and quietly said, “Oh, nothing special... just... nonsense...”

“Um...” Olga pondered but seemed to decide not to press her friend further. She turned to the others. “What did you see? Was it interesting?” I stifled a chuckle. Olga had very little tact. She figured that if she didn’t hide what happened to her during her challenges, then others shouldn’t either. Like Alina, the guys suddenly felt uncomfortable, and a tense silence fell over the table.

“Well, damn...” Olga said, disappointed. “That’s no fun. I thought you would tell us.”

“Well...” Alina finally decided, “don’t laugh! I was the heroine of my favorite anime in the episode where her best friend dies. And I... saved him.”

Prokhor and Alan exchanged glances but immediately relaxed. “Alright, I will say it,” Kalinin decided. “I found myself in that focus that almost destroyed Purgatory. I still feel guilty that I couldn’t save everyone then.”

Alan nodded and grimly added, “Strangely enough, our challenges were very similar. I ended up there too.”

Olga stopped trying to extract details from anyone, and the topic quickly shifted to the prospects now opening up for everyone with a significantly increased energy supply. The students were as excited as children. I contemplated which new spells I should teach them first. But that was all for later. First, we had to focus on the war.

* * *

The first large gathering of all allied forces was scheduled at the Mao IT center. After some reflection, it became clear that this was the most optimal option. Surveillance was unavoidable; the Villons had placed their spies around every building that could theoretically be connected to me. At least here we were on a fenced and well-protected territory. Even the Villons would find it difficult to sneak over the wall I had built, especially to break through Ivy — unless they launched an open attack.

As hostess, Lifeng did an excellent job preparing a bright, spacious hall for the council and was now personally welcoming guests. However, it didn’t seem like an official greeting at all; she looked more like a lost schoolgirl in a short pleated skirt and an oversized sweater. She seemed completely unfazed by the fact that she contrasted comically next to Mao Wei, who wore a sharp suit and sported a serious expression. I didn’t know him well, but Lifeng trusted him, and he had firmly secured his position as her right hand.

The first to arrive, of course, were Olga and I. For the first time at such a council, I brought Prokhor along. As the captain of the guards, he was becoming the third most important figure in the clan after my heir, so it was time for him to become accustomed to participating in political affairs. Over time, as the clan grew larger and stronger, his position would change. He would rise to marshal, with all the implications that title carried. But even without those ranks and titles, Prokhor was already a capable strategist and tactician. Nor was his presence at the council just a formality; I hoped he would be useful during the discussion.

The Bergmans arrived second after us. They also used the metro, one of the lines of which led directly to their residence. We had used it several times, so transportation issues were settled.

In addition to Olaf, who had become very actively involved in all clan affairs after my treatment, Sven, his deputy, and Kristina also showed up.

Following them, also through the tunnel, came Octavia and Blanche. The Bergmans didn’t hide their surprise at the sight of the witch. Olaf even dared to ask, “Am I imagining things? Is that Scipion? Are we collaborating with a great clan?”

“No,” Octavia replied calmly. “I’m just here as myself. I wouldn’t miss the fun!”

The Northerners had absolutely nothing to object to this. Few dared to argue with witches at all. However, it seemed that Octavia and I viewed the situation in exactly the same way. The events around me entertained her greatly after a long seclusion. I was amused by how deftly she jumped into any commotion. I never asked her for anything; little Scipion helped me completely voluntarily, simply because she enjoyed spending time with me and, of course, because I was teaching her necromancy. I didn’t even consider that a service — it was just as beneficial for me as it was for her. By helping her master the side gift, I was conducting my own experiment. The presence of Blanche, of course, surprised no one anymore. After all, she was the main face of our advertising campaign.

Finally, the last participants of our conspiracy arrived: the Demirs, both the elder and the younger. They were the only ones who reached us by land, not by subway. We did not collaborate with them as closely, so we had not laid branches to their sites. They had not personally met the Bergmans before, so Olaf and Imre shook hands in greeting.

The formalities dispensed with, we got down to business. With only a few days left until the war, my allies were still not entirely sure it would happen at all. So when I confirmed that a battle with the Villons was unavoidable, the Bergmans and Demirs literally clutched their heads.

“But how can it be…” Kristina said, surprised. “They paid us compensation and renounced any claims. They are forbidden from attacking us!”

I couldn’t help but smile at her naivety; it was almost charming. “And who forbade them? Yes, other great clans expressed their dissatisfaction and shook their fingers, but no one’s got a gun to their head. It’s fraught, you know.”

“But how can it be…” Kristina was now very upset. “So they were just blowing blowing air up our asses? They gave us guarantees…”

“It’s very simple,” I explained. “If Katharine pulls everything off quickly, she might get another slap on the wrist, or, if there’s no outcry, maybe they’ll pretend they didn’t notice anything at all. According to her plan, you will already be dead, so there will be no one to cause the outcry. Katharine, like all great princes, is a law unto herself. If she decides on something, she won’t ask for permission.”

For a few seconds, silence reigned in the hall, which was broken by Imre Demir. “We are completely unprepared for war,” he admitted directly. “We are traders, not warriors. We can protect our property from clans close to our level, but not from the Villons. It’s completely impossible. We have a lot of real estate... no. Impossible,” he shook his head.

Olaf expressed a similar sentiment. “Same for us. We are also traders. I know that Maximilian can work wonders. But I fear that even the combined forces of our clans will not be enough to protect all our property. It will be a disaster.”

I nodded. I expected them to have these doubts, and I couldn’t say they were wrong. But I had something to reassure them with. “We will move the most valuable property to a place where no one can reach it. Imre, since on paper it is now your property, you know that I now have a base in Costa Sirena,” I smirked. “We will also move everyone who cannot protect themselves, taking them out of harm’s way.”

Olga added, “We have already started to transport everything valuable there. For example, grace from the factories. But there is still enough space in the warehouses for batches of cosmetics and medicines, as well as for…” — she hesitated for a second — “everything that the Demir clan trades.”

“Well, that is indeed a good idea,” Olaf agreed. “But it’s still unclear how hostilities will proceed. We already have far fewer fighters than the Villons, and those will also need to be divided among all the important sites. We don’t know when and where the enemies will attack. Or do we?” he asked me hopefully.

“Not yet,” I answered honestly, “but I know something more important than that. I know Katharine Villon — her character, habits, and manner of acting.” That’s when I caught Octavia’s gaze — very serious and thoughtful. I sensed she was more interested than anyone else present in how I could know this, but she didn’t ask about it right now, and I had no intention of clarifying.

“Katharine is not the smartest of the great princes,” I continued, “but, like all of them, she is very experienced and strong, as well as cunning and agile. However, in certain situations, this can become a disadvantage. She has long been unaccustomed to any serious threats. She hasn’t encountered worthy opponents for a long time. She is complacent.”

“That is indeed true,” Blanche confirmed. “I studied the history of our clan. For about five hundred years, or maybe even longer, we have experienced a period of one hundred percent abundance — the Golden Age. The clan only grew richer and stronger.”

Imre frowned. “Then I still don’t understand how this can help us. Our resources are incomparable.”

I replied, “Just that overconfidence and impulsiveness are an extremely dangerous combination — for her. We will provoke her and force her to engage in battle where and when it is convenient for us. Here’s what I propose…”

Chapter 10

“WITH ‘YOUTH OF THE VILLONS’ COSMETICS, even the dead will come back to life! Youth of the Villons! Don’t be like a zombie!” Hans tried hard to pronounce the entire phrase as clearly and expressively as possible, but it was difficult to please Octavia, who was sitting in the director’s chair.

“What are you, at a children’s matinee?” she snorted. “I need energy and drive! And what is this? A meaningless phrase! I don’t hear any character in how you say it. Let’s do it again!”

Hans sighed and began to protest. “Do I look like an actor?” he stared at the Scipion witch. “I talk how I talk.”

The brothers didn’t quite realize who Octavia was, so they often didn’t choose their tone and expressions carefully. But she suddenly liked it. “There! Now there’s both expression and character! Repeat the phrase in your own style!”

“Really?” Hans was surprised. “Alright!”

A minute later, when everyone had returned to their places, Octavia commanded, “Action!”

Whereas the first clips had been filmed on a smartphone, now she had organized a full-fledged film studio at her estate. She had more than enough finances, and most importantly, energy for it. Now, the action was taking place on a real set, complete with a cameraman, lighting technicians, and even a specially trained girl with a clapperboard recording the take numbers.

Hans began, “Don’t be like a zombie, damn it! Youth of the Villons is what you need, sis! And your guy will appreciate it too.”

“Even if he’s already in the grave,” Phil interjected.

“Excellent! Cut!” Octavia concluded joyfully. “Now the scene with Blanche!”

Filming continued. I was also present on set, sitting next to Octavia in a folding chair and sipping iced coffee from a tall glass. At first, I was wondering if it was really worth filming something so strange and utterly ridiculous for an advertisement. But Octavia was absolutely sure this was the way to go. “What are you talking about?!” she exclaimed. “This is the biggest hype! Phil and Hans just started gaining popularity as bloggers. We need to shoot something that will be both in their style and stand out, something that sticks in the memory. Only then can we promote a viral video like you wanted!”

I grunted, but her passionate arguments convinced me. Surprisingly, Octavia had a talent for promoting online talents. Each video shot under her guidance garnered hundreds of thousands of views. Moreover, Lifeng was also on her side in this case. As for trendy internet technologies, these girls understood them much better than I did. So, something that seemed strange and unfamiliar to me could very well work.

My task was to ensure that even with such a strange presentation, Grand Duchess Villon must not overlook the information being presented. So Blanche became a redhead again. Moreover, a stylist worked on her hairstyle, curling her hair to match Katharine’s. The makeup was also chosen to achieve maximum resemblance between them. That was why I was actually present on the set, not just out of curiosity. I instructed Blanche to ensure that every gesture and manner of speaking mirrored the one she was copying.

“If we lose, she won’t just kill me,” our actress lamented. “She’ll do it with particular cruelty! Especially since I’m not just repeating her, but literally mimicking and mocking her!”

Indeed, Blanche’s role boiled down to innocently batting her eyelashes and claiming that even an evil thousand-year-old witch could transform thanks to Youth of Villon. Only a fool wouldn’t guess who this jab was directed at.

To top it all off, Blanche announced a big presentation of new products from the quickly beloved line, which she would personally attend. The event was going to take place in the large hall of the Grand Bazaar shopping center, owned by the Demir clan, almost in the very center of the capital. Blanche Villon invited all her fans as guests, generating excitement and anticipation among her followers. This venue, known for its bustling and vibrant atmosphere, would serve as the ideal backdrop for showcasing the new line of cosmetics. With the combined attention of her fans and the media, it promised to be a memorable occasion.

* * *

“I apologize, Princess,” Gaultier said, addressing Katharine, who had suddenly risen from the head of the capital’s security service to become clan marshal. “But are you sure we should direct our main strike forces to this shopping center?”

A military council was underway in her capital residence, gathering all the important figures of the clan. It was evident on their faces that the majority were not pleased to be there. The others were trying to find reasons not to get involved in this war at all. While few saw actual reasons for concern, they understood that defeating a few weak houses was not a challenging task for a great clan. However, given the recent circumstances, no one was particularly eager to get their hands dirty in something like this again. The reputation of the Villons had already taken a hit. Not critically yet, but they were finding it more difficult to make deals, with some suppliers even terminating agreements. Increasingly, voices were being raised, claiming the Villons could not be trusted, as they were willing to resolve business disputes through military means. And now these rumors would be fully confirmed, adding stress to the princess’s obsession. Few believed they had serious reasons for such concerns, but Katharine believed they did. Any attempt to argue with her was met with a quick and aggressive response, so those willing to speak out could be counted on one hand. This was happening now as well.

“Absolutely sure,” Katharine replied without a trace of doubt. “I will go there myself and lead our squad.”

“But why don’t we follow the previous plan?” Gaultier persisted. “We can attack all their properties at once. They still don’t have enough forces to resist. We will deprive the enemies of their resources and then quickly finish them off. We’ve already approved this plan, and everyone has agreed with it. It is the optimal strategy in our situation.”

Katharine merely waved her hand. “Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time. The main thing now is to get to that bitch. I’ll personally skin her,” the princess smirked. “And then I’ll make gloves out of her.”

Gaultier exchanged glances with the others, weighing their options. They knew Katharine’s rage could be a powerful motivator, but they also recognized the potential fallout from such a vendetta. Still, it was clear that there was no swaying her now; she was resolute in her desire for revenge. “Let’s prepare the troops,” he finally said, trying to keep a level head. “We’ll move out quickly. If we act decisively, we can catch her off guard.”

Katharine nodded, her expression hardening further. This would not simply be another battle; it was personal, and she intended to see it through to the end.

* * *

“This is one of our largest shopping centers,” Imre Demir told me with gravitas as he guided me through the Grand Bazaar. He didn’t say it directly, but I could sense his tension. Any merchant is terrified of risking their assets. Right now, Imre was being a bit modest. The Grand Bazaar was the largest and undoubtedly the most luxurious shopping center in the Demir network. Located in the very center of the capital, it brought huge profits to its owners. Thousands of buyers, hundreds of tenants, warehouses filled with goods, and a robust security system made it a monstrously expensive toy. Expensive enough that it couldn’t be imagined as bait. So Demir was nervous for a reason. Merchants think in terms of turnover, percentages, and capital gains. The thought of risking such an investment is monstrous to them. Warriors, in contrast, think differently. Every battle is a game with maximum stakes — your life or the enemy’s. All or nothing.

“Have you insured it for the largest possible amount, as I advised you?” I asked, ignoring his mournful sighs.

“Yes, but it’s not just about the building,” he finally admitted, revealing the real reason for his concern. “What if the goods and other property of the sellers are damaged? Who will compensate them? We have a lot of tenants here…”

That was true. The Grand Bazaar occupied four floors. Three were retail spaces, all of which were closed today for safety reasons. The top floor housed the food court and a large concert and presentation hall. That was where our event was supposed to take place. We had just entered and were watching as workers made the final touches. From the outside, it looked like poorly controlled chaos. Unskilled workers in blue overalls moved speakers and spotlights from place to place. They unrolled and coiled countless cables, fastening and connecting various components while continuously arguing.

All of this occurred under the watchful guidance of Alan. He had really honed his skills with these matters while working on promoting the club. Noticing me, he waved joyfully and returned to his tasks.

“Don’t worry,” I assured Demir. “The Villons will compensate them for everything two- or even three-fold.”

Imre frowned. He remembered who he was talking to, but he, too, had picked up the habit I purpose;y developed in my close companions: if there is doubt, it should be voiced. This approach is useful in battle, allowing orders to be followed unconditionally. In ordinary life, tasks are completed much more effectively when people understand their meaning. “I can’t imagine how we will make them do it,” he muttered.

I smiled. He was still thinking in terms familiar to him. “It will happen when we divide their clan treasury.”

* * *

“There is unprecedented excitement around ‘Youth of Villon’ today!” announced the dapperly dressed, white-toothed correspondent, looking directly into the camera lens. He and his crew had set up not far from the entrance to the shopping center, ensuring that the poster featuring Blanche from the scandalous video would be prominently displayed in the frame. The video had indeed gone viral, and now you’d have to be deaf and blind to be unaware that new products were being released in the popular cosmetic line.

“Everyone is waiting for the ‘Youth of Villon’ presentation, which is being held under strict secrecy. Tickets sold out instantly and are now impossible to obtain at any price…” The correspondent fell poignantly silent as the cameraman captured the crowd gathered at the entrance, most of whom, by a strange coincidence, were red-haired. Then the camera returned to the journalist. “Television is not allowed inside, all for the same reasons of secrecy,” he reported in a rueful tone, but then smiled widely. “However, they promise that a live broadcast of the event will be conducted by the organizers themselves. So don’t leave your screens! Any minute now we will switch to this live broadcast. For now, let’s remember how Blanche Villon, just recently a simple clan healer, managed to win the hearts of thousands of fans…”

* * *

“What do you mean invalid?” the girl, who was refused entry to the shopping center, almost shouted in outrage. “I have proof of purchase! Right now!” She began to actively rummage through her smartphone amidst the dissatisfied snorts of the others waiting in line. However, the person most annoyed was her boyfriend standing next to her. You didn’t need to read minds to understand from his expression that he had been dragged here against his will, and now they were facing these problems. Yet he patiently endured and waited while his girlfriend dealt with this hiccup.

The grim security guards from some paramilitary organization called “Purgatory,” with skulls on their epaulets and packed in tactical armor, did not inspire any desire to assert one’s rights in front of them. They were, however, exceptionally polite. There was still a whole hour and a half before the event, but the doors opened early to avoid a crush and let everyone in. “Here! Look!” the girl shoved her smartphone into the guard’s face. “See, everything is fine!”

But he just shook his head and then waved his hand, calling someone over. “Prokhor, come here!” he shouted. Almost immediately, another man approached the exit. Tall, well-built, and quite attractive, the girl stared, much to her boyfriend’s displeasure.

Prokhor instantly assessed the situation. These guys were not even gifted, so they could not be let in. He gallantly smiled and apologized to the girl. “Unfortunately, there was a glitch in the program, and your tickets are actually invalid. It turns out that two identical copies of the tickets were sold.” He raised his palm, stopping the girl who was ready to protest. “Within two days, the funds for the purchase will be returned to your account, and as compensation, we are prepared to present you with a new exclusive set of cosmetics, ‘Youth of the Villons.’”

As if by magic, someone from inside the shopping center handed Prokhor a beautifully decorated gift box, which he then ceremoniously presented to the girl. There was no longer any trace of disappointment on her face.

“Thank you! Thank you… I didn’t even expect that your brand cares so much about its customers! I will definitely tell everyone about this!” Overcome with emotions, the girl nearly cried. This set cost as much as two months’ salary for her. The most she could have hoped for were tiny sample packs, and here she was receiving all this! Such luck!

Her boyfriend also noticeably cheered up. Seizing the moment, he took her by the arm and led her away from the shopping center. Lucky girl! She wouldn’t have to spend the evening at some silly presentation.

* * *

Excitement and anticipation coursed through me as I watched the hall fill up, seeing how my enemies settled into their trap. A snare that would soon snap shut. It had to snap shut, no matter how difficult that might prove to be. Of course, a beast in a trap is dangerous; it is strong and ready to kill. But that made the hunt all the more interesting.

Finally, the hall was packed to the brim, shimmering with the red hair of the Villons. “They don’t even give themselves away,” I thought, smirking. The modern expressions I picked up while talking to my granddaughter were sometimes surprisingly accurate.

As the lights in the hall went out, fanfares sounded. Alan stepped onto the stage in a classic three-piece suit, adjusting his bow tie. In the club, he had revealed a lot of new talents, and now he almost didn’t look comical, dressing like a person from high society. Although his gangster face still made him appear more like a mobster than a respectable businessman, at least he no longer seemed like a street gang member. He was growing! “Thank you for being here today,” he began after the greeting. “Today we will show you something absolutely unique.” He raised his hands in a gesture that demanded applause, and the audience in the hall reluctantly clapped their hands. “But first,” the host continued, “I invite to the stage the inspiration for our evening, the beautiful Blanche Villon!”

With that, Alan instantly disappeared from the stage, hiding behind the curtains, while Blanche made her entrance from the other side. The girl looked simply dazzling, and this was further emphasized by the bright spotlights crossing over her. She was dressed in a flowing, figure-hugging evening gown, her hair styled in an elegant high updo. Happily smiling, she walked to the center of the stage like a supermodel, showcasing a light and confident feminine stride in high stiletto heels. She radiated such joy that it seemed as if she had just been reborn.

Blanche reached for the microphone, but she didn’t have time to say a word. At that moment, one of the red-haired spectators in the orchestra jumped up to her full height. Amplifying her voice with magic, she shouted, “Die, bitch!” Then a powerful wave of energy swept through the hall, sending shivers down my arm involuntarily. In an instant, right on stage, Blanche exploded into tiny bloody pieces.

Chapter 11

Some time ago

“THIS IS JUST creepy!” exclaimed Blanche. “I… this is too much.” She stared at the corpse with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Alina had been working on it for many hours, and she had made a wraith that was the exact copy of Blanche herself. Those long hours of training to recreate the likenesses of stars and other famous personalities on the undead faces our builders had not gone to waste.

“Well, if you want to be the bait yourself, no one is against it,” I replied.

Blanche flinched. “No! Of course not! Katharine…” She hesitated, then continued, “I don’t even want to enumerate everything that psycho can do to me!” Having realized there was no turning back, Blanche stopped holding back her feelings toward her former boss, which was no surprise. I was sure that if you scratched the surface of those who had worked closely with Katharine, most would have even stronger words. Well, except for those still hopelessly in love with her — there were surely quite a few of them, it must be admitted.

“Stand next to the corpse,” Octavia demanded. “I want you to walk at the same time.” Octavia habitually referred to corpses as dolls and her dolls as chimeras. Precision in wording was not her strong suit. Still, it was her we entrusted with controlling Blanche’s dead twin. Octavia was observant and meticulous when needed, noticing even the smallest features of others better than anyone else. It was assumed she would handle the task well.

Blanche sighed heavily but obeyed. It seemed to me that unconditionally following Octavia was becoming a habit for her. And it wasn’t just because Scipion could destroy her at any moment with her doll.

When Blanche took a step, her copy mirrored the movement. Soon, both Blanches walked through the hall at the same speed, with the same expression, and even synchronizing the clicks of their heels on the parquet. However, Octavia frowned, still somehow dissatisfied. “Almost perfect, but you’re forgetting to simulate breath. Do it again.” And so it repeated five more times until she was completely satisfied. Well, more precisely she described it as “relatively satisfied,” and said, “of course, it still needs work,” but she did conclude with, “it’s good enough to show people.”

* * *

What I love most is to be surprised, and over time, this love only grows stronger because fewer things are able to surprise me. One such surprise was the trap used in the Costa Sirena hotel. And later, I was even more surprised when I found out that this artifact had been developed by the Villons. I had to admit that sometimes even in Katharine’s lineage, talented and smart people were born. Fortunately, some of them had already been working for me for some time, and some were even partially initiated into the secrets of creating such artifacts.

However, even Maurice, the former head of the secret laboratory, did not know everything. “Another group of our scientists was working on this,” he said when I handed him the remains of the antidote to research. “We had almost no contact with them.”

“More importantly, can you replicate their work?” I asked directly.

Maurice thought for a moment. “Most likely, yes, but I have no idea how long it will take.”

That answer did not satisfy me. “It needs to be done by yesterday,” I told him, “but I am prepared to wait a few more days. I am sure you will manage.”

I expected protests, but what a lucky day! Maurice surprised me too. Instead of trying to explain why it was impossible, he pondered and began to calculate something. Then he cautiously replied, “Maybe... just maybe! We can make some kind of analogue. I don’t know if it will be weaker than the original or maybe even stronger. We don’t even have the original example in front of us, just the antidote. But at least I understand the basic principles on which it should work. Maybe one of our specialists also understands the issue. I will gather a council today.”

“You are thinking correctly,” I praised him. “I will also come to your meeting. I will listen.”

And so I did. Although my knowledge and skills lay in a somewhat different plane, sometimes it is useful to familiarize oneself with the reasoning of different specialists to learn more about what they already understand.

The council proved to be quite intriguing and not boring at all. From the Villon scientists’ conclusions, I learned that the artifact we were interested in was specifically designed to neutralize its own. This mechanism was a precautionary measure; after all, healers can control their bodies so well that incapacitating them by normal means is nearly impossible. The artifact was even called the “Sphere of Obedience” because it was meant to remind defectors and traitors of whom it was that they were obliged to obey, emphasizing that there was no freedom for them — nor could there ever be. At least, that was how the scientists retold Katharine’s pompous speech.

I also learned how exactly this sphere functioned. It literally disconnects the brain from controlling the nervous system. Those who are weaker immediately lose consciousness, while the Villons — or, as it turned out, Richters — remain quite aware. However, restoring the coordinated function of all organs would require time. A lot of time. Enough to do anything to anyone. Judging by the excited discussion among the scientists, we had a fair chance — not just to replicate the sphere but to create an analogue of it.

We also discussed the possibility of developing a vaccine. The sample of the antidote we had in our possession was not just a standard chemical solution. It consisted of many tiny artifacts, so small that they were invisible to the naked eye. The scientists referred to them as nanorobots, which instantly spread throughout the body, neutralizing the effects of the Villon artifact. To protect ourselves from its influence, we would need to inject ourselves with these in advance.

I considered the idea of studying these nanorobots more closely later. Like any new technology, it piqued my interest. Who knows? Perhaps one day I could create nanochemicals of my own.

* * *

“Ever thus to traitors!” Katharine exclaimed triumphantly, still believing her affairs were going well. She deactivated all her disguising artifacts, which she had adorned herself with like a Christmas tree, before entering the Grand Bazaar, now more of a grand trap that all the Villons who dared to come here had fallen into. It was surprising that they were not at all alarmed by their ample tickets. Apparently, they credited it to the excellent work of their support services.

But it wasn’t that simple. To avoid suspicion, we allowed anyone who entered the specially created website to buy tickets. The main work was done afterward, as Lifeng filtered out most purchases from ordinary people, processing refunds for them. Conversely, tickets purchased by the Villons were marked in a special way.

Of course, a couple of mistakes were inevitable. Some ordinary residents of the capital, wishing to attend the presentation, were approved for purchase. But those people were turned away at the entrance by Prokhor and the teams from Purgatory. To avoid damaging our reputation among potential buyers, the idea of a consolation gift was approved. War is war, but no one intended to give up a successful brand like “Youth of Villon.”

In general, everything was proceeding according to plan, and there were no extra people in the hall at all. However, based on the information gathered by Mao’s security service, we had a rough idea of the overall level of all the Villons who had come here with Katharine. We checked this in advance, as, like their princess, they had arrived at the Grand Bazaar disguising their powers. The main factor of interest for us was, of course, the number of archmages, and according to our calculations, there should have been as many as twelve. We did not count Katharine; she was generally outside the categories.

Each archmage led his own small squad, consisting of a couple of executors, several destructors, and a support team of two or three healers like Blanche Villon. It seemed that this was how the standard battle group in their clan looked now. This information was vital not only to assess the enemy’s strength, but also to accurately calculate the resources needed to ensure the trap closed.

While our strongest fighters, including those from the Bergmans, Mao, and Demirs, were getting vaccinated, Katharine had already made her move. She struck our bait with a powerful and concentrated spell of such strength that even I would have struggled to withstand it if I had been caught by it. The perfect doll, Blanche, was torn to pieces. The great princess was triumphant — at least for a moment. That moment passed when the Spheres of Obedience flew into the hall — three of them at once. I didn’t even want to think about how much creating them had cost us. But according to our calculations, that was exactly the amount necessary to guarantee the incapacitation of all the archmages present, so it was worth it. We now had between a few minutes and half an hour until they regained their senses.

And, of course, there was one furious princess who, although shaken, remained conscious. I hadn’t expected disposing of her to be easy. In terms of resilience, Katharine could outlast even me. If she were as deadly as she was tough, she would have long since ruled the council of the great princes as a autocrat no one could challenge. Fortunately for everyone, she was not that. The world under the rule of such a queen would quickly become an extremely unpleasant place. Nevertheless, tackling her was not the easiest task, and it needed to be done quickly.

As soon as the artifact trap went off, a real massacre began in the hall. Our fighters emerged from behind the scenes and from service rooms. Additionally, about half of the audience who weren’t Villons were our undead. Being in close proximity to the enemies, they immediately began to eliminate anyone within reach.

Even in a blackout, the Villons could inflict damage that the gifted from other clans could only dream of. But even the archmages were not a real threat to us now; they were merely a frustrating nuisance. The true danger was Villon.

Of course, she immediately noticed me as soon as I entered the hall. Fixing me with a frenzied, mad gaze, she exclaimed, “It’s you! You! I was right!”

I stepped forward and replied gravely, “That won’t save you.”

Chapter 12

KILLING AN ARCHMAGE is in itself not an easy task, especially not for another archmage. But killing the archmage Villon is like scooping the sea out with a spoon. Villon’s health is inexhaustible.

I remember once watching Lifeng play a computer game in her office. It was another trendy form of entertainment alongside movies. “Looks like clearing foci,” I said.

Lifeng nodded. “More than you think, look!” she replied, stepping into a portal where a huge humanoid monster with a pig’s head awaited her. It was dressed in a butcher’s apron and wielded an impressive cleaver. “This is the boss,” Lifeng explained. “They were created similarly to focus bosses. In this game, for example, each zone has its own.”

“And to kill it, you need to prepare well?” I clarified.

“Well, yes,” Lifeng nodded. “Like, I can’t defeat this one yet. I need more weapon strength. No matter how much damage I do to it, it heals faster than I can hit it.”

I saw her character spin around the butcher like a top, unleashing special effects and swinging an axe, but all in vain. The boss’s health bar decreased slightly, but soon refilled again.

The archmage Villon was just like that boss. Their regeneration is so high that wounds heal instantly, broken bones would fuse, and even complete loss of limbs was not a problem. The archmage Villon could effortlessly regrow any limb, and even internal organs. I wasn’t not sure about the head. That was definitely within Katharine’s power, but she was a special case. Then again, good luck chopping off that head in the first place! With all their enhancements and blessings, Villons turned into one big piece of armor. This was in addition to their energy shield, not instead of it. And here in the hall, we had a dozen of these archmages. The fact that they were temporarily unable to act didn’t make the task any easier; it merely meant that their energy shield was no longer a problem, but all the other bonuses from the gift of the Villons still remained effective. Speaking in gamer terms, these were their passive abilities. We had only a few minutes to finish them off before they regained control over their bodies. Therefore, leaving it to chance would be both foolish and extremely dangerous.

There weren’t many mages on my team capable of opposing a living archmage. With one, perhaps all the Bergman fighters could handle it. A couple more, or maybe three, would be dealt with by the Mao. One or two could be managed by the Demirs. My team, led by Olga, might handle three or four more. So what did that mean? Even in an ideal scenario, we still couldn’t defeat them all. I’m not even mentioning potential casualties.

This was why I valued my gift, among other reasons; I almost never had to risk living people. But right now, all our chimeras and undead were also involved. After all, besides the archmages, something had to be done about their entourage, which included weaker mages — still far from second-rate.

While the Villon scientists were trying to recreate the Sphere of Obedience, I continued my own research. Since I had a proper lab, I kept returning to one of the most critical problems that troubled me: abomination. I already knew a lot about its properties, but I sought to deepen my understanding further. Not only to destroy it, but also because even an enemy could be turned into a temporary ally under certain circumstances. Unlike my enemies, who imbibed abomination through stimulants and medicines, and generally tried to deceive their magical nature, I never lost sight of the danger — the other side of the coin. Today, the Villons would fully feel it for themselves. I would remind them.

* * *

“Be careful with that thing, Kira!” Lev reminded her for probably the tenth time. “One wrong move and…” Twelve phantoms, the best of the best, were tensely waiting for the right moment, holding in their hands small artifacts that resembled injection syringe-guns.

“I know!” Kira waved him off irritably. “Stop treating me like a child. I’m a warrior just like you!”

Lev snorted. “I wasn’t the one the ants dragged away, so…”

“Are you going to harp on that forever?”

“Enough already,” interjected Dietrich, the phantom who had recently distinguished himself during the bear hunt. “Either give me the reverse stimulator, or you’re on your own.”

“No!” the husband and wife replied in unison.

“Don’t forget why we’re doing this,” another female phantom interjected. “Max warned us that we need complete focus. We only have one chance. There’s no backup.”

Under such pressure and the full disapproving gazes of their friends, Lev and Kira finally calmed down.

Once the spheres flew into the hall, the phantoms had no time for arguments. While the undead and chimeras dealt with the simpler enemies, it fell to them to eliminate all the archmages. They all knew that the apparent simplicity of the plan was, in reality, just an illusion. Was it easy to drive a needle under the skin of an archmage Villon? Of course not. If you didn’t put enough power into it, it would simply fall apart. Essentially, the phantoms needed to turn this needle into a weapon — a blade that would pierce the enemy’s defenses. And at just the right moment, when the reverse stimulator could directly affect the archmage’s energy system…

“Begin!” Dietrich commanded. The phantoms scattered throughout the hall like shadows. Then, a series of flashes illuminated the space — one, two, three. The archmages flared up like torches, literally burning to ashes in a second, like vampires in sunlight — the very ones Olga loved to read about. They were consumed by their own energy systems.

While grace stimulants could enhance a mage’s own power, the reverse stimulant was a special concentrate of abomination that first burned out all the energy reserves of gifted and then began to deplete their energy systems. This process took a couple of minutes.

“They burn beautifully…” Kira admired the scene from the stage. Whatever anyone said about her, she was indeed a talented mage and was tops at handling the task.

“That’s for sure,” Lev confirmed, watching as the archmage he targeted burned out, turning to ash.

Lev also did not disappoint, finishing the mission first. He possessed the highest energy reserve among the phantoms, so he could put enough force into the strike on the first try, unafraid that something would go wrong.

“Alright, enough lounging around,” Kira said, shaking off the enchanted stupor as the fourth archmage turned to dust and history. “It’s time to finish off these bastards’ entourage.”

“Yes,” Lev replied decisively. “The Villons will answer for everything our clan has endured in the past.”

In this sentiment, even the phantoms who fought the most — the husband and wife — were completely in agreement.

* * *

“You are alone now, Katharine,” I smirked, glancing at her strongest allies as they flared up and perished one by one. The great princess looked rather unwell. No matter how hard she tried to maintain an unflappable and even flirtatious demeanor, her nervous tension betrayed her completely. This was first evident in her eyes. She feverishly shifted her gaze from side to side, completely avoiding looking directly at me.

But even so, she had to be true to herself. “Alone?” The princess Villon innocently fluttered her eyelashes. “What about you, Max? Won’t you keep me company? I’ve missed you so much…”

As she said that, she materialized her favorite weapon — a whip of pure energy. She was the only one able to afford such a thing; it consumed so much power. Yet, in terms of effectiveness and, just as crucial to her, spectacle, it surpassed any spell in her clan’s arsenal.

“I’m afraid our meeting will be brief,” I replied in kind, “but very romantic. Practically a candlelit date. I love the atmosphere…” I smirked. “It’s twice as pleasant to watch the fire when it’s your enemies burning.”

While Katharine tried to strike me with the whip, my servants and pets began to circle around her. It was a necessary sacrifice, as she swept them away with her whip faster than one could say, “Oops.” Better servants than my students. Besides, with each strike, she expended energy. A little, relative to her overall monstrous reserve, but the main point was that she was expending it.

“Why didn’t you come to me right away, Max?” she said, still suppressing her fury, donning the mask of a seductress. “I would have explained everything to you... and not just that,” she licked her lips. This mask had been with Katharine for so long that perhaps she could no longer behave any other way. Yes, Princess Villon was still stunningly beautiful, but despite all this, she now looked just pathetic.

“You are a coward, Katharine,” I said. “And a fool, too. The only good decision you made in your whole life was when you tried to latch on to me. But even in that, you messed up when it came time to make another choice.”

“I choose the strong,” she shrieked, making another attempt to strike me with the whip. “And you are weak! Right now, you’re even weaker than I am. Do you think I don’t feel it?”

A crowd of undead surged toward her again, and she spun around like a top, crushing them beneath her feet like pathetic insects. But another problem for Katharine was that she had always been easily distracted. If she were smarter, she would have tried to target my students to ensure I was left without support. Instead, she bolstered her confidence by fixating on the perceived gap between our powers. That gap certainly existed, consisting of the very energy reserve she was now recklessly squandering.

“You messed up, Kat,” I ignored her remark about weakness. “You bet on the wrong horse. And now it’s time to pay.”

Katharine laughed hysterically, and my insides twisted with wild pain instantly. Yet I had anticipated her attempt to crush me, so I was ready for it — at least mentally. The physical pain was so intense that I nearly lost control over myself, which was exactly what Katharine was waiting for. She began to lash out wildly with the whip, hoping to hit where I would teleport next. Once or twice, I barely avoided it. It took time to regain full control.

I knew I couldn’t defeat Katharine without facing that monstrous weapon of the Villons. It was better for me to hold her back than for her to unleash it on someone else who would perish immediately, exploding like the decoy of Blanche had.

To distract Katharine, I sent another batch of my undead servants into the fray. While she turned them to dust, I managed to catch my breath and continued to provoke her. “Where are your allies when you need them so much? Has even old Raksha Kanwar abandoned you? He was so in love with you, despite all his ridiculous spiritual practices.”

“He’s a weakling too!” she shouted frantically. “I don’t need anyone! I am immortal! Katharine Villon cannot be killed! You must understand this, Richter!”

* * *

“Faster! Faster! We are setting up the Phoenixes!” Prokhor urged the Purgatory fighters. They weren’t guards yet, but they were eager to become guards. They worked smoothly and quickly. Almost all the promising cleansers had decided to participate in the war, and the goal of swearing allegiance to the Richter clan and becoming part of the clan guard spread among them rapidly. So they were there absolutely voluntarily, bustling about as they installed defensive and offensive structures and cannons on the roof, balconies, and all other available spaces. In addition to the Phoenixes and Manticores, the shopping center was acquiring real armor made of mobile gunports and shields adorned with various runes.

All of this was achieved through the combined efforts of the allied clans to make it as difficult as possible for enemies to approach. The Bergmans enchanted the fortifications with cold spells intended to slow down any attackers. The Demirs didn’t cast any spells themselves but didn’t hold back their stock of once-purchased protective spells and artifacts. To everyone’s surprise, they literally emptied their warehouses of rainy-day supplies. After all, a war with the Villons was no walk in the park. If not today, then when?

The Grand Bazaar sparkled like a New Year’s tree, with branches bending under the weight of ornaments. Protective and offensive runes now proudly shone on every wall of the shopping center, on every window, and even on the floor and ceiling. Even so, the younger Demir, Ali, was disconcerted. He darted around the building, fearing they wouldn’t finish all the preparations in time. Everyone there understood that twelve archmages were just the beginning. The great clan Villon was much stronger and larger than the part that had fallen into today’s trap. So, the Grand Bazaar had to become a true fortress that no one could breach to aid their princess. No one wanted to think about what would happen to them all if I couldn’t handle Katharine.

The only people who believed in our victory unconditionally were my pupils. The others were still worried. In fact, everyone was concerned. That is why Prokhor, Olga, Alan, and Alina were doing everything they could to ensure that even the smallest details of the plan were executed perfectly. Prokhor and Alan were responsible for the Purgatory fighters and guards, making sure they all took the right positions and did not expose themselves at a crucial moment. Olga supported the phantoms positioned to back up the others, using their mobility to provide assistance where it was most needed. Alina controlled the most important and useful pets: the flocks of canaries, Harry, and Dino. They were all well hidden, waiting for their moment.

As the first battle raged inside, a real war approached outside. The Grand Bazaar was situated at the intersection of four roads, which was very convenient for selling goods. But now the roads were empty. There were no loud announcements, but people quickly sensed that something was wrong when they encountered a military column of Villons. Any fool knew from infancy that if the great clan had deployed its military equipment somewhere, it was best to get as far away from its path as possible. And there were four such columns, currently approaching the Grand Bazaar from all directions. The great clan was coming to aid its princess.

Prokhor and Olga stood next to him, watching from the roof, genuinely scared for the first time in a long time. She, more than anyone else, believed in Max, but now she was deeply afraid of letting him down. What if she couldn’t protect her guys? What if there were too many casualties? What if the Villons broke through into the building? Now, as the entire scale of the confrontation unfolded before Olga, she turned pale, gritted her teeth, and unexpectedly squeezed Prokhor’s hand tightly. For a second, Prokhor was surprised, but then he smiled warmly at her. “Don’t worry,” he gently squeezed her hand in response. “We will defeat them all.”

Chapter 13

“BUT WHY DO IT, Ignatius?” Linda asked worriedly as her husband prepared for the journey. The task was dangerous, and the head of the Aster household, though gifted, was only slightly so. He would never become a full-fledged warrior, so he hadn’t truly trained for it. He even managed his undead builders with voice commands rather than his own gift. Which was surprising, given that his daughter Alina had turned out to be a very talented and powerful mage.

“Every person counts,” Ignatius replied seriously to his wife. “Everyone is busy with other things. Besides” — he raised his index finger — “this is a serious sign of trust. The fact that Max entrusted such a task to me means a lot.”

“Of course, I understand, but…”

Linda really did grasp everything. She was more devoted to the Richter clan than anyone else. They had saved her kidnapped daughter and given her a new life free from suffering and pain. As a lawyer, she was ready to work herself to exhaustion to ensure the clan thrived. But she was still a wife and a mother, which meant she couldn’t help but worry when her loved ones risked their lives. Alina had somehow convinced her that she could protect herself — and if not, that she was almost always with Max, who would certainly not let her come to harm. But now, with Ignatius having to go alone on such a difficult and important mission, Linda felt a wave of panic.

“Don’t worry,” her husband embraced her. “It’s not as scary as it seems. Besides, Max left me very detailed instructions,” he said, waving a piece of paper in front of her eyes.

“Is that a manuscript?” Linda asked, surprised.

“Exactly!” Ignatius replied proudly. “And just look at how beautiful and clear the handwriting is. Real calligraphy!”

“Right…” the lawyer agreed absently, not fully understanding her husband’s enthusiasm.

He continued, “Nowadays, it’s all just printouts and soulless files… Calligraphy is a lost art! Young people can’t even write by hand anymore!”

Linda was completely confused. Here, a question of life and death was being decided, and he starts waxing nostalgic about how the grass used to be greener. “I didn’t know this worried you so much,” Linda could only respond as her husband quickly said goodbye and was gone.

It must be said, Ignatius was genuinely thrilled with the handwritten manual. He was once again convinced of his boss’s wisdom in not making him dig through his phone. Moreover, the connection in the foci was poor; who knows what could glitch or freeze there. It was much more convenient when all the instructions were right there in hand.

It didn’t take long to reach the location — one of the railroads that just a few days earlier passed by one of the foci. Now, the focus had already been destroyed, but no one was onto this yet. This area had been contaminated for too long, and it would take a significant amount of time for everything to return to normal. Even monsters still remained here, not to mention mutated plants. Of course, in the fort and on the trains, they surely sensed the weakening of the pressure, but too little time had passed for anyone to truly guess that something had occurred which until this moment had been considered impossible.

For the sake of secrecy, Ignatius and a group of armed undead first reached the old fort by metro on a transport chimera — a ladybug — and then, without changing transport, went straight to the railroad.

Then he stopped, unfolded the sheet with the instructions, and began to read carefully: “Press the runes in the order indicated below and open the box.” Carefully checking each line, Ignatius began to remove the protection from the matte black box. The runes on it were pale gray, but each time he touched them, they seemed to flare up and ignite. “Carefully take out the focus gemstone and place it on the railway track.” After reading the new line, Ignatius nodded and did just that. The shimmering dark stone took its place exactly in the middle between two lines of rails. “Pour purified grace over the gem.”

This instruction clearly did not sit well with the reader. He couldn’t help but reply, “Such a waste!” He shook his head but still gave the order to the ladybug. The transport chimera had a special reservoir for dangerous liquids and powders — be it poison or grace.

Approaching the gem, it lifted a wing, from which a small hose extended, and then liquid concentrated grace poured directly onto the crystal. As soon as this happened, the gem hissed, cracked, and began to increase in size, even seeming to ignite.

Shaking his head to dispel the disbelief, Ignatius looked back to the instructions. The last point read: “Run with all your might.” Once more glancing at the gem, which seemed to have just begun transforming, Ignatius jumped onto the ladybug and ordered it to hurry back to the old fort as fast as possible.

And not a moment too soon. The crazed focus monsters, driven mad by the spreading waves of filth, were already rushing straight at him from the epicenter of the new outbreak.

* * *

“What the hell is this?!” the engineer cursed. Ralph Desmond had been driving this route for a good ten years, but he had never seen anything like this before. His partner Brad also whistled in surprise. “Have they been saving their strength? I haven’t seen these creatures at all in the last few trips.” Both engineers looked through the armored glass at a whole pack of fatties that had rushed onto the road in front of the train and were now heading off into the distance. Strange that it wasn’t toward the train, as usual. But the further the train went, the more monsters appeared. At first, they were only running ahead, but now they surrounded the train on all sides.

“I don’t think we can deal with this using standard weapons,” Ralph said thoughtfully. “Inform the gunners; let them activate the reserves.”

“That’s for sure…” Brad agreed, watching as a swarm of jumpers, flying squirrels, and meat piles rushed toward them. They had already slowed down because they couldn’t shoot fast enough. It would be just their luck for one of the cars to tip over.

“I hope that won’t happen to us…” Ralph said in a lower tone, without specifying what he meant.

Brad nodded nervously. He immediately understood Ralph — he was referring to the unfortunate train that had recently been destroyed. This story was kept under wraps, but the railroad employees certainly knew what had happened, even if not in detail. Only the higher-ups in the Desmond clan were privy to the real cause of that accident.

The door burst open and the train conductor rushed into the cabin. From his agitated appearance, it was clear the engineers were right to be nervous. They tried to get up to greet their superior, but he stopped both of them with a wave of his hand. Getting distracted from driving at a moment like this was not the smartest thing to do.

“We are stopping immediately!” the conductor ordered. “Do not go any further!”

He didn’t need to repeat it a second time. Ralph instantly pulled the emergency brake lever. He had already been seriously considering it, and with the order, it became even easier to do. He didn’t have to take responsibility.

“What happened?” Brad asked the boss.

“I wish I knew!” the boss admitted in frustration. “If we believe the meter readings, the power of the impact from the abomination is almost a hundred times higher than usual. It feels like we are heading straight into the epicenter of a new outbreak.”

* * *

“The trap plan worked. Ignatius just activated the last focal point,” Lifeng’s voice echoed in my head. I didn’t distract myself by responding, but noted to myself that I had made the right choice. Even being a very weakly gifted individual, Ignatius Aster was exceptionally brave and diligent. That’s why I had entrusted him with such an important task. Additionally, the main challenge for my clan right now was low numbers. I would have preferred that three more people activate the foci on the railway along with Ignatius, so everything would happen simultaneously, but there simply weren’t that many trusted and reliable people available. Everyone else to whom I could assign such an important task were needed here — in the war.

Ignatius had had to ride around the capital on a transport chimera since last night, laying “bombs” all over the place. This was the only this way I could cut the capital off from the rest of the world and eliminate the possibility of trains filled with representatives of other clans heading to aid Katharine.

Since trains passed through the foci only twice a day, in the morning and evening, we had a full day to execute the plan. Unfortunately, after speaking with the train chief on the way to Costa Sirena, it became clear that I wouldn’t achieve such an effect with ordinary sabotage. Any accident would only lead to a short delay — a repair train would head to the scene and restore movement in just a few hours. I needed to radically change the situation. The only viable solution was to relocate the foci directly onto the railway tracks. Now, to resume movement, the Desmonds would only be able to lay new tracks somewhere else.

Ordinary cleansers wouldn’t be able to handle epsilon or kappa level foci, even before new bosses had a chance to emerge there. And mages wouldn’t even be able to approach them. Few would want to go insane and run through the woods like the Villon gorilla.

But I had to not only prevent anyone from coming to the capital. With this trick, we also blocked the way out of the city. The Villons fell into a double trap — first in the Grand Bazaar, and now in the capital. The main thing now was not to lose momentum. For that, we needed to deal with Katharine as quickly as possible. For the time being, she was quite fresh, full of energy, and even spouted some nonsense about her own immortality. I didn’t know what she hoped to achieve with that. Maybe she wanted to scare me? To throw dust in my eyes? But she was a moron if she thought I would believe a bluff like that.

And if this wasn’t a bluff and she truly believed herself to be immortal, then that was pretty sad. Perhaps this millennium had indeed taken a toll on Katharine’s silly little head, and even her touted life magic hadn’t kept her from senility. I laughed and voiced this aloud. As expected, she flared up like a match and became even angrier.

“And where have you been all this time, huh, Max?” she couldn’t hold back, revealing her true face and abandoning any attempts to charm me. “Hiding in some stinky hole and licking your wounds? Is this all that remains of the great necromancer and the Scrouge of Antiquity?! Ha!”

I smirked. She was trying so hard to hit me where it hurt, but none of her words mattered. If anything she said had affected me, I would have been deeply disappointed in myself. But Katharine continued to try with all her might: “Right now, even a regular member of my clan could wipe the floor with you! And where is your clan, huh? All you could find were some weaklings, former leeches, and trash collectors! They are good for nothing! Your clansmen have become mere servants!”

At that moment, I was glad that Olga wasn’t here. I feared that even my granddaughter’s improved self-control wouldn’t have been enough to restrain her from pouncing on Katharine to tear out all her hair — or perhaps even scalp her.

I quickly stopped thinking about that. It seemed the phantoms hadn’t managed to reach two of the archmages guarding Princess Villon; Katharine had successfully brought them back to consciousness with her influence. I tensed, considering how to take them out before they killed all my assistants in the hall. After all, besides me, we had no fighters capable of facing archmages on equal terms.

To my surprise, Katharine solved this problem herself. She ordered the archmages to attack me. Although this made it significantly harder for me to dodge and defend myself, I was glad about this turn of events — until I realized that Katharine was planning to run away. What a coward! I laughed again, surprising the archmages who were trying their best to reach me. Perhaps in their eyes, I now appeared a bit crazy. All her bravado, all her accusations of weakness — everything crumbled like a house of cards. The actions of the Great Dutchess Villon spoke for themselves. As soon as the opportunity arose, she rushed to flee from me with all her might.

I had to admit, she had a chance of winning. Even if she eliminated all the Villons except for herself, she could stand against me and my entire current clan and hold her own. But the fear inside her was so great that it became her main enemy. Instead of assessing the battle rationally, she, as always, began doing stupid things. If I were in Katharine’s place, I would leverage the fact that her strongest enemy was tied up in battle with two archmages and quickly eliminate all his allies, cutting him off from help and then trying to finish him off using a swarm. But the practically unkillable Katharine was so fearful for her “immortality” that she retreated at the slightest problem. She simply wasn’t ready to fight if there wasn’t a crowd of her followers, servants, and admirers nearby. There was one important rule in battle: if you turn your back on the enemy, you are no longer a warrior — you are prey.

With that in mind, I sent all my servants and pets inside the Grand Bazaar after Katharine. It was time for a good hunt!

* * *

“Are we going to break through?” Jacques Villon, the right hand of Marshal Gaultier, asked his commander.

“Hell if I know,” the newly minted marshal honestly admitted. “It’s too early to tell. Let the guys set up the defense for now, so not a single rat escapes.”

Both commanders had known each other well for a long time and were talking in the armored vehicle, away from prying eyes and ears, so they weren’t afraid to speak frankly. There was no rush. Villon military columns had already surrounded the shopping center and were now unloading at a measured pace, paying no attention to the enemies bustling on the roof and in the windows. Few of them even understood why they were being thrown into battle in such numbers against a bunch of merchants.

The ordinary clan members stood at a safe distance in the front row, but even they were equipped to the highest standard with the best armored suits and powerful enhancing artifacts, not to mention spells from support mages. All of them formed the first line of defense, activated energy shields, and patiently waited for the command. Meanwhile, the stronger and higher-ranking warriors prepared for the imminent assault.

“Listen, what if we just blow it up, huh?” Jacques suggested. “Turn the whole place into a nice neat crater…”

“Yeah, and then Katharine will turn you into a nice pile of mush,” Gaultier replied sarcastically. “Did you forget what she’s like inside?”

“Oh, what’s going to happen to her?” his friend waved it off. “Just think of how much time we’d save. And maybe we’d even get lucky, and she really… well… you know,” he hesitated to express it more crudely, even though he knew Katharine couldn’t overhear him.

Gaultier laughed at first. “Why not? At least we’d have to listen to less screaming…,” but as he finished that phrase, he suddenly became serious. “No, she’ll kill us for being wasteful. It’s not even about her precious body, which she’ll restore in a minute at the worst of times. No, she won’t forgive us for losing the shopping center. Or do you think this war is just for the sake of war? Plus, imagine how she’ll get out of the ruins… dust… her hair will get messed up… We won’t be forgiven for that.”

Jacques shook his head. “You are right. The clan has lost too many assets lately. Of course, Katharine won’t want to miss out on a juicy piece like a well-hyped shopping center.”

“Exactly. So during the assault, we should be as careful as possible to avoid damaging anything unnecessary. Otherwise, we’ll have to answer for the losses. I really don’t want to have to do the carpet dance in front of her again…”

The friends nodded in agreement and sighed in unison. Meanwhile, three groups of archmages had already taken their starting positions to storm the Grand Bazaar from different sides. They were supposed to work in three directions at once: storming the main entrance, the underground garage, and landing on the roof.

Gaultier turned on the radio and announced to the commanders, “Final preparations! We start in five minutes.”

Chapter 14

“HERE WE GO!” SHOUTED PROKHOR as the enemies attacked the main entrance. The automatic revolving door shattered with a loud crash, and Kalinin praised himself for his foresight. It was no coincidence that all defenders, both dead and alive, were positioned a bit away from the entrance, so no one was hit yet.

The Villons were hit, however, by a dense hail of Manticore fire, mixed with grenades. Prokhor noted to himself that it was a good job they hadn’t neglected ideas that were at first glance seemingly ineffective during preparation. After all, Villon squads consisted not only of archmages and executors; now, in the front lines, simpler fighters were engaged, namely destructors and executors. Their shields could not withstand the onslaught, and they cracked and crumbled like eggshells. This injured several enemies at once, though the healers following them helped them cope with their wounds almost instantly. But no one had promised it would be easy. Prokhor believed the main thing was that they were managing to injure someone at all.

But the Villons’ approach was surprising. They either completely disregarded their opponents, thinking they wouldn’t encounter any worthy resistance here, or they simply didn’t value the ordinary fighters. It was strange that the highest-ranked enemies were still hiding somewhere on the sidelines. Or maybe it was all part of a cunning plan.

Prokhor didn’t have time to ponder this further, as even these ordinary warriors were causing a lot of problems. For instance, now that they realized their personal shields were easily pierced by artillery volleys, they combined their efforts to create one large dome, much harder to destroy. Moreover, it obstructed visibility, appearing as a murky green color from the outside. At the same time, the Villons began to return fire actively, mostly with spheres of pure energy. This was effective even against the undead. Some exploded into pieces, but others emerged to take their place.

This did not particularly encourage the defenders, as the undead were not infinite, and they had to hold out for a long time. So it was time for the living fighters to enter the battle. Kalinin gave the command, and the Bergmans joined the fight. They had been waiting for their moment on the second floor all this time.

The Grand Bazaar was a standard multi-level shopping center. Inside, it resembled a wide corridor, with showrooms on either side. The floors were connected by massive escalators, and often there was no ceiling above the corridor at all, allowing visitors to freely observe what was happening below, leaning against the glass railings. Right now, the railings had been removed for safety and cost-saving reasons. The Demirs had tried to remove everything even slightly valuable from the space. Instead of railings, just like on the first floor, barrels of cannons were aimed at the enemies. The combat squad of Northerners hid right behind them, taking up a comfortable position from which they could support the undead and retreat if things went wrong.

As in the war with the Duponts, Kristina played the main role. A diadem sparkled on her head again, an artifact that allowed her to hover above the ground. To make her attacks even more effective, other Bergmans shared their energy with her, transforming her into a very dangerous opponent. Kristina was just a destructor, but with support like this, she became more threatening than many executors.

The Bergmans also raised their dome around the shooters in response to the actions of the Villons. It was white-blue, adorned with a fine pattern of snowflakes, which could make it look for a moment like this was not a battle, but a trip to a snowy town filled with ice sculptures and slides. The dome looked truly beautiful, like a work of art. But more importantly, its effectiveness was also top-notch. Constantly cracking under the blows of the Villons, it quickly sealed the cracks with a fine snow pattern and restored its strength. Losses among the undead immediately decreased.

At the same time, the guards entered the battle. To be precise, they preferred to stay away from direct confrontation, but their pets charged confidently into the attack. The first wave was made up of chimeras that had been designated for sacrifice.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Immediately, a dozen corpses exploded as they got close to the enemy squad. Some of the guards even managed to make their “bomb” jump into the thick of the opponents. However, there were those who didn’t make it to the crowd; they were shot down while approaching. They weren’t blown up anymore — at least, not in the usual way. Instead, Prokhor and Olga turned them into a swarm of meat flies, and an improved version at that. Max had managed to teach both of them his version of the spell.

In the final days of preparation for the war, almost all the fighters of the Richter clan had learned something new. This was greatly aided by the new levels that many reached after clearing the foci, along with intensive training. To bring the leader’s plans to reality, the others had to put in the effort. They understood well that this was necessary and how much closer this spell could bring them to victory, as well as improve their chances of survival. Many who advanced to at least the rank of magister managed to master corpse explosion at least at a basic level.

Still, the ability to recover even from the most serious injuries was too strong among the Villons. Since the beginning of the assault, under heavy fire, they had lost only three or four, and now they were slowly but surely advancing deeper into the shopping center. Kalinin, who was in charge of the defense in this direction, understood well that if they allowed this to continue, the allies would lose all defensive advantages at once. The assault had to be slowed down at all costs. This meant it was time to pull a new trump card from the sleeve: the Mao. The former bandits, although not a truly disciplined squad of fighters, loved to fight and knew how. Moreover, like necromancers, the Mao were best suited for a containment strategy with minimal losses. They didn’t have to engage in close combat themselves, and their spirits could create a whole lot of problems for their opponents — even for the Villons. Many spirits required a special approach and their own unique element. This necessitated preparation, which the great clan had, of course, not done. “Who are these Mao to bother with?” each of them thought. Now they were about to experience firsthand what it was like to fight an enemy you had absolutely no clue how to injure.

Pouring into the rear of the Villons, the crowd of spirits caused real chaos among the attackers. Not all of them could inflict serious damage, but that did not make their bites any less annoying and painful. The advance of the enemies immediately halted, and now Prokhor laughed as he watched the Villons, cursing the spirits and each other with all their might simply because none knew what to do. Instead of dealing with the opponent, they were hindering each other. The particularly brilliant among them even attempted to use the usual Villon tricks against the spirits, like attacking internal organs, which, of course, the familiars of the Mao simply didn’t have. Instead, the mages ended up hitting their own allies, and several Villons writhed in pain while unleashing wild curses.

This bedlam couldn’t help but impact the coordination of their actions. The power of the protective dome had significantly diminished, and the Bergmans, with death-dealing archers, were now breaking through it much more often. The guards weren’t far behind either. Even though the “bombs” had run out, they had unleashed a swarm of mini-chimeras on the enemies. Agile, nimble, and small, the mini-chimeras added even more confusion to the enemy ranks. While they were much more vulnerable than the spirits, they held their own thanks to how difficult it was to hit them.

At the same time, the armored vehicles took positions in front of the shooters, repelling the attacks that managed to breach the Bergman dome. Prokhor could hardly believe that everything was going so well. It seemed that the ball was completely on the Richter side. New victims appeared among the Villons, and several more enemies could no longer continue the battle. But even in their confusion, they remained serious opponents — especially when their senior comrade, one of the archmages, joined them.

“Get a grip!” he barked as he burst into the building. “You look pathetic!”

With his support, the situation began to level out quickly. Even the chaos caused by the spirits no longer seemed to pose a significant problem for them. But Prokhor had another surprise in store for this scenario. He didn’t want to reveal it so early, especially since it could be useful in other directions. However, giving up positions was not an option either. Through the radio hanging on his chest, he contacted the main battle coordinator. “Lifeng, we need Mao Wei in the center.”

“Understood,” she replied briefly. “Hold on for two minutes.”

The Villons weren’t the only ones with archmages. It was time to show them a truly powerful spirit.

* * *

“Alright, I’ll go help,” Jacques volunteered when it became clear that the central squad was struggling.

“Disgraceful,” Gaultier shook his head. “Of course, these are not our main forces, but I can’t believe a bunch of merchants wiped the floor with them like this. It seems some of our fighters are getting paid for nothing.”

“Yeah,” Jacques nodded, jumping out of the armored vehicle. “When we finish, we need to conduct some purges. Many will clearly have to revalidate their qualifications and go through Vincent’s drill again.”

Vincent was one of the strongarm men among the Villons; he was feared almost as much as Katharine. Everyone who intended to become a soldier went through his training, and those who managed to endure this trial would never want to go through it again.

“Cheer them up over there,” Gaultier shouted to Jacques one last time before switching to commanding the other squads. What was happening now at the main entrance was merely a distraction. In fact, even if this squad lost, it wouldn’t matter much. Only the clan’s pride would be hurt, but the main goal — to draw all enemy forces to one place — would be achieved. Even if the enemies weren’t a significant threat, Gaultier believed it was important to carry out the operation flawlessly. He had only recently become the marshal of the Villons and wanted to maintain that position.

He devised a plan. While the enemies were busy with the weak squad distracting them, three more squads were already poised to storm the building from other locations: the back service entrance, the underground garage, and the roof. They had begun the invasion at those points. They would easily roll over the practically nonexistent defenders and then surround the main enemy forces, crushing them in just a few minutes. In the end, they would only need to repair the halls at the main entrance and perhaps a few minor things. This way, they would keep as much property intact as possible. Katharine would definitely be pleased.

* * *

The coward had almost fled from the fourth floor. I would have even laughed watching her scamper past my shadow scout if it weren’t for one “but.” This practically indestructible and deadly machine was heading straight for where my people were packed tightly. She was afraid of me, but she would think nothing of squashing the others. I urgently needed to catch up to her and stop her. However, I couldn’t ignore the two archmages pressing in on me either.

Fortunately, while fleeing, Katharine stopped twisting my insides. Her assistants took up the baton. The effect was much weaker, but it was still present. In addition, they could also fight in conventional ways, hurling spheres of pure energy at me. Although they had less power than the princess, they were still formidable. They bombarded me with spells from different sides in a continuous stream, not giving me a second to stop and catch my breath.

Fortunately, it was hard to tire me out, and after a few seconds, I began to anticipate their movements and even counterattack with my shadow blade. But to defeat them in battle, I first needed to break through their shield, and that task would take at least several minutes — if I was lucky. I didn’t have that much time. So I waited for my secret trump card to come into play.

“Got it, Max!” I finally heard Octavia’s joyful voice. Her pretty little head peeked out from the service room next to the stage. The door there was completely inconspicuous, allowing the Scipion witch to remain undisturbed. But she was quite involved in the fray with her mini-chimera.

“What the fuck?” one of the archmages cursed when he was suddenly attacked by his partner. “Are you crazy? What are you doing, you bastard?!” He couldn’t stop the flow of outraged questions and insults; the sudden betrayal had infuriated him that much. Of course, he had no idea that he would face the magic of the Scipions. None of them were prepared for this. Octavia’s mini-chimera calmly snatched a fallen hair from one of the enemies right under their noses. Then the witch performed her ritual, and now she had an archmage, Villon, practically under her complete control. Though she couldn’t use his full arsenal of abilities, what she could use was more than enough to pressure his partner. Together, it became much easier to destroy the enemy’s shield. Instead of several minutes, we needed just one.

“I’m going to become addicted to subjugating the Villons,” Octavia joked cheerfully. “Maybe we shouldn’t kill them when it’s all over? What if they turn out to be as sweet as Blanche?”

Along the way, she performed a new ritual, giving her control over two archmages. I was reminded again why I usually didn’t trust the Scipions — just as no one else in their right mind would. But Octavia had proven herself to be a reliable ally more than once. Perhaps it was the blood of necromancers that provided such an effect.

Meanwhile, she continued to chatter. “I just need male models. It’s time to launch a men’s line of cosmetics under our brand.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” I smiled at her, “but right now we need to catch up to a certain hysterical bitch.”

I hadn’t rushed after her immediately, ensuring that Octavia wouldn’t encounter any problems with those two Villons. But the Scipion witch knew her business, and everything was going well. So, there were no enemies left in the rear, except for those planning to burst into the building from different sides. Lifeng kept me updated the entire time, so I wouldn’t have to distract myself with the observer birds watching every inch of land around the Grand Bazaar.

Everything was going according to plan, but it could fall apart at any moment if I didn’t manage to delay Katharine. It would be extremely unpleasant if she managed to quickly reunite with her fighters, and it would be even worse if she got outside. So I rushed after her with all my might. During this time, I had to constantly distract her using my servants and pets. She was destroying them in whole batches, and I didn’t even want to count the losses. Most likely, after this war, I would have to gather a new army of chimeras and undead practically from scratch. Yet even with such losses, I achieved what I wanted: Katharine had not managed to leave the fourth floor. I could already see her red hair ahead of me.

The task was simple. No, not to kill. I couldn’t kill her yet. This coward was too strong and still hadn’t burned even a tenth of her energy. But I had to hold her as long as necessary so that, in the end, we could secure our victory.

Chapter 15

“EVERYTHING’S GOING according to plan…” Octavia almost sang, following Max’s last instruction, and ruffled the hair of the archmages she controlled. Then she tore their clothes in several places and made them dirty each other with dust and grime from the floor. Otherwise, they looked too clean and tidy, despite the battle with Richter.

“Now we can get started,” she said, proudly surveying her handiwork. The Scipion witch sent the new dolls straight to the back entrance.

* * *

“What happened to you?” Christoph, the archmage and captain of the squad, exclaimed as he burst into the building through the service entrance. To his astonishment, there was no one there except for two of their allies who had accompanied Katharine. Moreover, both were in less than ideal condition — somewhat battered — which immediately raised many questions and heightened his fear. The archmages of Villon believed themselves to be practically invulnerable for good reason.

The answer Christoph received both calmed him and instilled even more fear. “It’s all over; we’ve cleared everything,” said one of the two. “But Katharine is inside!” he raised his voice, anxiety ringing in every word.

Christoph frowned. “Well, of course, Katharine…”

The second battered archmage interrupted him. “You finally get it! Let’s not waste time! The princess needs a healer!”

“What?!” everyone there gasped in unison. In their long lives, none of them could remember so much as a hair ever falling from Katharine’s head, let alone something like this. What could have happened if she needed help?

“Who did this to her?” Christoph asked, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. “Is he dead?!”

“Ah… you’ve misunderstood,” replied the first archmage. “Of course, everyone is dead. The princess just overdid it a bit. But everything is fine. We need to help her as soon as possible!”

“Of course!” the captain exhaled with relief. This explanation immediately eased his mind. True, if anyone could harm their princess, it was only herself. He could even imagine it. Like most of her subordinates who had encountered her personally, he couldn’t help but notice that Katharine could be overly emotional to put it mildly. So, yes, anything could have happened.

Relaxing, Christoph stopped maintaining the shield, as did most of the fighters in his squad. No point wasting energy that might be needed later. It was unclear in what condition the princess was and how much strength they would need to assist her. After all, if she couldn’t help herself…

The archmages led them through empty corridors, and Christoph decided to take the opportunity to clarify, “So what happened, anyway? What is the condition of the princess?”

“She will die soon! Just like you,” one of the archmages laughed roughly and unnaturally horrifically as strange shadows pounced on Christoph’s squad. They appeared as if out of nowhere and immediately found themselves right next to them, as if teleported. Moreover, both archmages who were supposedly leading them to the princess turned against them at once. All of them realized far too late that it was a trap. Almost none of them had had time to reactivate their shields. The members of his squad fell like cut grass, one after another. The unknown enemies fought with such ferocity that they seemed like demons rather than humans.

A beautiful long-legged brunette stood out particularly. Christoph sensed that she was hardly even an executor, but in battle, she was more fearsome than many archmages — a true berserker. In addition to the enemy mages, some strange creatures joined the fray — either large dogs or wolves, with burning green eyes and terrifying faces. But the worst of all was a small, woolly demon. Much smaller than the rest of its kind, yet equal in strength to its mistress, that fierce brunette. Together, they left no one a chance. Looking at them, Christoph felt a surge of primal superstitious horror. He recalled the rumors circulating among the upper leadership of the Villons, alleging that in the highest council of the clan, they had discussed the return of some ancient scourge. Now Christoph was closer to believing it.

* * *

“What the hell?” exclaimed Daniel Villon, the commander of the combat squad, as they made their way into the Grand Bazaar through the garage. “It’s a little insulting even. It’s as if we weren’t expected at all, even though this is an obvious route for an assault. Aside from a few poorly dressed shooters at the entrance, whom they dispatched with a single spell, no one else was guarding the entrance to the garage.”

“Looks like Gaultier overdid it with his clever plans,” laughed the second-in-command archmage in the squad, Clement. “Clearly, the main entrance is being defended by everyone available. It’s even surprising that Katharine got so worked up over these weaklings that she gathered almost all the strong fighters of the clan.”

“That’s not surprising at all,” interjected the third archmage, Leons. “The princess can’t stand it when things don’t go according to her plan. Or did you think she would leave those upstart Bergmans alone? They need to be punished along with their allies so that no one else even thinks about looking sideways at the Villons!”

Daniel and Clement exchanged glances. Leons was one of Katharine’s most enthusiastic admirers. He would defend any of her decisions. Remembering this, they bit their tongues just in time. The last thing they needed was for him to pass something on to her.

They moved further into the garage in silence, occasionally discussing whether it was possible that this was some kind of trap. But as life mages, they felt no life around them. There weren’t even that many vehicles in the garage, considering its gigantic size. Just a couple of dozen large trucks — that was all.

“Maybe the bodies are armored?” suggested Leons. “And someone is sitting inside?”

Daniel laughed. “You’re overestimating them...” But he hadn’t even finished his sentence when the doors of the trucks suddenly opened. It wasn’t enemy fighters that rushed out. It was ants. Tens of thousands of ants, each about the size of a palm. They surged toward the Villons in a solid stream, as if a pipe filled with insects had burst somewhere.

At first, the archmages laughed, easily fending off the first wave of creatures. But then they started to sweat. They were no longer in the mood for laughter when they realized that the ants showed no signs of stopping. For a moment, Daniel even thought that new ones were being brought in from somewhere. It wasn’t limited to just those two dozen carts; they kept coming and coming. It quickly became clear that in such numbers, they couldn’t even be considered weak. The captain thought with horror that this reminded him of focus monsters. He had never participated in the clearing of foci, but had seen videos of how the cleansers managed it. Once, he even came across a video of a huge swarm of jumpers overwhelming a squad of cleansers with sheer mass. This comparison filled him with such terror that he couldn’t help but shout loudly, “Retreat! To hell with these insects! Let’s go!”

Daniel was the first to follow his order and tried to turn back, but quickly realized he was too late. He didn’t want to believe it until the very end, but he could barely move his legs. The ants swarmed around them like a sea, rising up to their thighs. Even their shields began to lose effectiveness. The bites of the small creatures occasionally broke through their defenses, and it took a lot of energy to patch the holes and heal the bites. Yet, each of those bites seemed to drain their strength. The archmage realized with horror that he couldn’t even properly strengthen his muscles to jump out of this damned trap. “We need to burn them to hell!” shouted Clement, trying to pull a grenade from his harness.

“It’s too late,” the captain grimly replied. “We’ll blow ourselves up.”

“Maybe we can hold on!” Clement persisted. “It’s better than being eaten!”

“Exactly!” shouted Leons, throwing a grenade right beside him.

BOOM!

Pieces of insects mixed with parts of exploded Villons flew across the garage. All of Leons’ subordinates, along with him, turned into pulp.

“What an idiot!” Daniel shouted in frustration. He, like Clement, was far enough away not to be affected. Some other Villons from their entourage were safe too. But for how long? The ants had already reached their waists, and with each passing second, it became harder to resist their poison. Of course, over time, the gift of the Villons could have overcome it, but there was a problem: they had no time. None at all.

“Gaultier!” the captain activated the radio. “We need help, urgently! There are damn ants here!”

“What?” Gaultier didn’t understand. “Nice time for jokes! Or do you have a phobia? Ask Clement to crush them with his boot.”

“It’s not a phobia! It’s—”

But he didn’t have time to finish. The creatures seemed to realize they couldn’t let him explain the situation, and with doubled force, they crawled straight at him. The smaller ones, of which there were legion, invaded his mouth, nose, and ears. It continued until even the incredibly powerful body of the archmage Villon ceased to breathe.

When their entire squad was buried under a ton of insects, Alan jumped out of one van, stretching with pleasure and stopping his false death spell. “Wow! I’m awesome!” he praised himself aloud before turning on the radio. “Lifeng, it’s done! I’m mega cool! Just super cool! I thought I couldn’t handle this pile of creatures, even though we tied control over them to a few leader ants! But it all worked out!” Alan was bubbling with excitement, dreaming of sharing his success with the world. “I killed several archmages! Alone!”

“Well, not alone, the ants helped you,” the hacker brought him back to earth. “And stop distracting me. You managed, I got it.”

“Fine,” Alan reluctantly agreed, “but at least tell Alina.”

“Stop slacking off. Lead your brood to the central hall and drag your butt there too. I’m signing off.” The radio went silent, and Alan grumbled something about not being appreciated, but still gathered some of the ants and set off to help Prokhor. He did not take all of them, preferring that those buried beneath the Villons remained buried. To hell with them; they would recover. I had warned everyone several times before the battle about the incredible resilience of their enemies.

* * *

“Everyone get ready!” shouted Jacqueline Villon, the captain of the paratrooper squad. She was the first to approach the hatch and took her position, not forgetting to show off in her beautiful tight-fitting jumpsuit. Like many girls from the Villon clan, she imitated Katharine, copying her in every way possible. But unlike Blanche’s mocking advertisement, she did it out of pure admiration and a desire to resemble her idol, even just a little. In this case, Katharine was flattered rather than annoyed, so behaving this way was even advantageous for Jacqueline. She knew that behind her back, people had long whispered that she got her position solely for being really good at kissing the princess’s behind. But she didn’t care. The main thing was that she was now commanding an important mission, and her envious peers either obeyed her or were nobodies.

However, it seemed that today’s mission would be too easy. Even on approach, Jacqueline noticed that the roof was practically unguarded. Now, with the airship hatch right beneath her, she was surprised to have this observation confirmed. Of all the guards, there was only a girl in a colorful dress up there. Was this even an enemy or just a lost civilian?

But what difference did it make? Gaultier’s order was extremely clear and straightforward: eliminate everyone they encountered on their way. With that thought, Jacqueline jumped into the hatch.

* * *

“Alina, be careful,” Lifeng warned her over the radio just before the assault began. “I spotted an enemy airship. In a minute, it will be right above you. I’m almost sure the Villons are going to parachute down.”

Alina nodded and replied resolutely, “Understood.” However, inside her, there wasn’t much resolve to draw upon. Usually, in battles, she played an important role, but it was a support role. Now, like Alan, she had to face an entire squad of enemy mages on her own.

Well, not quite alone; she had her pets. Still, she had never had such an experience. She wasn’t particularly afraid for herself; they would never leave her like this, without a way to retreat. But failing and letting the clan down was another matter. The responsibility weighed heavily on her. Yet, Alina kept herself together. Yes, she wasn’t a born warrior like Olga, but she wasn’t helpless either. She tried to take an example from her friend when it came to confidence in her own abilities. In terms of managing chimeras, she was probably second in the clan, after the leader himself. The way she easily controlled a whole flock of pterodactyls, along with several flocks of canaries, confirmed that.

And then there was the airship! Alina gazed at this air transport with a mix of surprise and delight. Although it was relatively small, airships were such a rarity in this world that she had seen them maybe ten times in her whole life. However, now was not the time to dream of flying on one. Paratroopers were pouring out of it one after another. Alina managed to count at least a dozen, but then she stopped. What difference did it make? She needed to take them all down.

Into the sky, like little fighters, soared the previously camouflaged pterodactyls. Although they weren’t as imposing as their former boss, they could accelerate to enormous speeds. Alina was fully taking advantage of the situation. While the Villons slowly descended on parachutes, the pterodactyls flew straight at them, not attacking but ramming the paratroopers with all their might, throwing them off the roof and cutting the parachute lines with their sharp beaks. The surprised enemies tried to fight back, hurling energy spheres at the pterodactyls, but few managed to make contact. Alina’s pets were too fast and agile. Moreover, the canaries joined the fray, flitting around and constantly distracting the enemies, making it difficult for them to concentrate.

In the end, only one red-haired girl, who had jumped first, figured out what to do. Realizing that if she didn’t act quickly, she would find herself nowhere near where she expected to land, she unbuckled her parachute, enhanced her body, and jumped down, landing right in front of Alina. The force of her jump made the roof shake, wide cracks appearing as if a concrete wall had crashed down rather than a fragile girl.

Alina staggered, struggling to maintain her balance. She was frightened, but she still retained enough composure. Just then, the largest of the pterodactyls under her command dove down with a loud cry, firmly grabbing the red-haired paratrooper with its massive claws. Before the girl could react, the pterodactyl soared into the sky, carrying the screaming girl away.

* * *

The Villons were so self-confident that they didn’t even hide their actions too much. Who did they expect to meet? Mercenaries? Clan guards significantly weaker than the great clan? They weren’t going to war, but launching a punitive campaign, and they certainly did not anticipate any resistance. Their attack through the main entrance could only be a distraction, and I willingly played along. I pulled all forces forward, handing them over to Prokhor, and set up a deliberately weak defense in vulnerable directions. Leaving them completely unprotected would have been too bold; even the Villons would have figured out something was wrong. So I sacrificed a couple of dozen undead and sets of armor. And then, the enemy was in for several trump cards hidden up my sleeve. The red healers flew into the prepared traps at full speed.

However, it was too early to celebrate. The main forces of the clan were still surrounding the building, and most importantly — Katharine was charging through the shopping center like a moose through a burning forest, in which her own army was engulfed in flames. She swept aside all obstacles in her path and, with a flick of her fingers, reduced my chimeras trying to delay her to dust.

Knowing her resilience, I didn’t hope to kill Katharine in the first encounter. My goal was to delay her inside the shopping center for as long as possible, as she was our insurance against strikes from truly powerful magic. Even jumping after her through the shadows, I had to work hard. I caught up with Katharine on the first floor when she was very close to the exit. I intercepted her along her path and blocked her way.

Chapter 16

“I STILL DON’T BELIEVE IT…” Katharine recoiled from me when I blocked her path. She clenched her fists and, perhaps for the first time that day, looked directly at me without averting her gaze. “How is this even possible, damn you? You can’t be Max Richter! Admit that you’re just a double or a fake… you haven’t even changed! Just like in the portrait from a thousand years ago!”

“Do you really need proof, Kat?” I smirked. “You already know it’s me. But if you want, we can discuss your heart-shaped birthmark on your butt. You’re not showing it to everyone yet, are you?”

“No!” Katharine flushed. “But then why? Why did you appear right now? Where have you been cowering all this time?!”

I was surprised that her curiosity had briefly overcome her cowardice; she stopped trying to escape and now nervously awaited my answer. But I wasn’t going to answer her questions. Instead, I wanted to extract some information from her.

I shook my head reproachfully. “It doesn’t matter anymore. What’s much more interesting is what you were doing, my dear ally. Instead of looking for me, you betrayed me.”

Katharine flinched. This accusation actually affected her. I knew perfectly well that she had zero conscience. I believed she was now replaying options in her mind, fearful that she had made a mistake.

“You were dead!” she exclaimed. “I was given proof! There was no point in searching and resisting! As long as you were considered the strongest, I was with you…” she stopped, realizing she had just confessed to her own opportunism, hypocrisy, and lack of principles. But then she continued anyway, “You let me down! Destroying you was too easy!”

“As you can see, you jumped to conclusions. I didn’t expect you to believe someone’s words so easily.”

With that said, I watched her closely, hoping she might reveal who had convinced her of my death. But what I received instead were more excuses:

“How could I not believe it when you were absent during the destruction of your clan? Don’t put the blame on me! You lost!” Katharine practically shouted. Given her state, I realized I had a little time to exchange a few more words before she lost control. I needed to uncover something from her before that happened.

“And what about you?” I asked with a hint of sarcasm. “Did you stay on the sidelines, or did you join in the slaughter? Did you kill any of the evil necromancers yourself?”

To my surprise, she met my gaze, her reply as if she were reciting a line she had memorized:

“I had no choice. The necromancers were blocking progress. They stood in the way of power. We recognized the potential right away and made the modern world truly magnificent.”

I wasn’t convinced she truly believed that. It sounded more like a story she needed to accept, refusing to consider other interpretations. A stance she clung to at all costs. “You turned the world into a dump and are drowning in your own filth,” I shot back, observing how her expression shifted, anger boiling within her. Now was the time to ask the important question. Perhaps in her emotional state, she would let something slip. I asked, “Who convinced you of my death? Who were you so afraid of? Tell me now, and maybe I will forgive you.”

For a fleeting moment, doubt flickered in her eyes before vanishing, replaced by a grimace of rage. It seemed she was ready to go all in. “You are still a dead man! Do you think you can come back and dictate your terms? You will die, Max!” She screamed the last words so loudly that I was sure everyone in the Grand Bazaar heard her. All the better. The louder she was, the greater the chances that my people would stay away, perhaps even evade the raging machine of death looming over us.

In tandem with her shout, Katharine predictably unleashed one of her spells, and this time, she held nothing back. While other Villons typically wielded spheres of raw energy, their power determined by their size, the Grand Duchess could manipulate this energy in ways that birthed spells of diverse forms and destructive capabilities. At that moment, she conjured a true bomb.

BOOM!

Where I had stood just a heartbeat before, the wall collapsed with a resounding crack, throwing debris into the air and leaving a gaping crater in the floor. The surrounding hall, too, suffered the consequences, starting to crumble around us. We were fortunate that the Demirs had invested in solid construction; otherwise, the entire shopping center might have come crashing down like a fragile house of cards.

Seeing my last-minute dodging, Katharine cursed in frustration but chose not to strike again. Instead, she darted through the gap in the wrecked wall, fleeing from the Grand Bazaar. However, to reach her people, she now had to cross a street — and I had another surprise waiting for her.

With a thunderous roar, Dino broke through the asphalt, scattering cars in his path as he charged toward Katharine. Two archmages stationed near the main entrance rushed to intercept him. But to their horror, the former leader of the focus shattered one of their shields with a single bite, nearly finishing one of them off right then and there. In the face of such power, they made the wise choice: they turned and fled without a second thought.

* * *

“What the hell is this?!” exclaimed Guy, one of the youngest Villon archmages. He was part of a different combat unit, one led by Marshal Gaultier himself. Initially, it was planned that they would remain on the sidelines, merely serving as backup. Their task was to encircle the shopping center and prevent any enemies from fleeing. But the unsettling signals Gaultier received from the Grand Bazaar forced him to reconsider, compelling him to gather the remaining Villon forces and reassess the situation. Just moments ago, he had been ready to join the fray; now, he stood frozen, eyes wide in disbelief at the chaos unfolding before him. If his instincts as a life mage were accurate, then—

“This is it for us,” he replied grimly. The princess had been right. The necromancer had returned.

“Necromancer?” Guy echoed, his surprise evident. “Aren’t those just scary stories for kids?”

Gaultier sighed. Of course, to young mages, necromancers had always been mere tales. He had never experienced their reign himself, but his age and rank within the clan hierarchy afforded him enough knowledge about the Richters. Still, he had no intention of lecturing the youngsters just then, especially as a red-haired figure darted toward the dinosaur, the unmistakable silhouette of the princess clearly discernible.

Gaultier felt a wave of relief wash over him. No matter how tempestuous she could be, there was no mage stronger than Katharine in the Villons. Without her, they would surely perish. He even considered rushing to her side, to provide support from a distance without hindering her efforts.

But before he could act, another terrifying creature made the decision for him. A massive worm erupted from the ground, flipping over several armored vehicles before vanishing back into the earth. No one had time to react appropriately.

“Full combat readiness!” Gaultier commanded, the urgency in his voice clear. Who knew what other horrors might emerge from the depths? And indeed, new troubles were not long in coming.

As the worm rampaged underground, tossing armored vehicles and military cars around like playthings, another set of prehistoric creatures descended upon Gaultier’s squad from the skies. They were flyers, gliding through the air with menacing intent. For the most part, they circled above, testing their shields with powerful, beak-like strikes. But one particularly aggressive pterodactyl managed to break through Guy’s defenses, its claws digging deep into his nape. Guy screamed in agony, writhing in a futile effort to escape its grasp.

“Take down that creature!” Gaultier shouted, urgency in his voice. Instantly, several spheres of pure energy shot skyward. The marksmanship of the Villons proved effective; a couple of the spheres struck true, and the pterodactyl released its hold, allowing Guy to regroup and land heavily on his feet, leaving a small crater in his wake.

Though he seemed to have escaped the immediate threat, fear etched deeper into the faces of Gaultier’s fighters. More terror loomed on the horizon as fresh swarms of monsters began advancing from two directions: one wave comprised gigantic dogs or wolves with eyes that burned with eerie green flames, while the other was a relentless tide of ants, surging toward the archmages like a tsunami.

That’s when Gaultier understood the gravity of Daniel’s earlier warnings. A chill settled in his chest. If these creatures had arrived, what had befallen Daniel, Clement, and Leons’s squads?

But he had no time to dwell on such thoughts. It was not only threatening; it was an urgent crisis. He had to fight for his own survival now. If they could reconnect with Katharine, perhaps there was still hope. With determination, Gaultier focused on issuing orders to his team, galvanizing them to prepare for the onslaught.

Meanwhile, the princess attacked the dinosaur with a frantic energy, moving as if possessed. Her slender form darted around the colossal beast, skillfully evading its strikes. At times, it seemed she intentionally taunted the monster, luring it to snap at her, only to retaliate with spells aimed at its least protected spots.

In those fleeting moments, the battle unfolded with an almost breathtaking grace, a chaotic dance of power and ferocity. To onlookers, the scene might have seemed almost comical. There was something absurdly entertaining about the elegant girl hurling cars at the monster, tearing plates from the walls, and using them in a fierce duel against Dino until they crumbled into dust. Like a wild gorilla, she leaped from balcony to balcony in the Grand Bazaar and adjacent buildings, deftly dodging the dinosaur’s attacks and finding opportunities to strike from above. In a bold, reckless move, Katharine even attempted to ride the massive creature, but her grip faltered. Instead, she managed to break several bones in its spine and some of its ribs. The tyrannosaurus fought valiantly but proved no match for her relentless assault. After a time, even the already battered creature could no longer fight back. Katharine, with primal fury, tore chunks of flesh and muscle from it with her bare hands.

When the battle finally waned, she swiftly turned her attention to her surviving archmages. Unfortunately, they were few in number now — just Gaultier and a handful of others. They struggled under the relentless siege of enemy chimeras and mages who, despite their preference for distance, seized every opportunity for sudden and painful strikes. With Gaultier’s squad preoccupied fighting the monstrous onslaught, they could hardly retaliate against their elusive attackers, and they were all in battle form. The mages had pushed their bodies to the limit, altering their forms so they bore a resemblance to beasts. While they hadn’t grown fur, their muscles swelled, bones strengthened, and instincts sharpened. In this state, they resembled mages at the first or even second stage of mutation from excess abomination, yet their minds remained fully intact.

“Princess!” Gaultier shouted as she approached. “We need to retreat! Let’s wait for reinforcements from other cities!” Katharine grimaced in response. This was not how she had envisioned today’s operation unfolding. Yet, despite her reluctance, she fully agreed with Gaultier. Katharine recognized the gravity of the situation. Though Max had yet to confront her directly, the unleashed monster was only the beginning of their troubles. If he had others hidden away, they were certainly in for a fight. And the losses they had already sustained in the Grand Bazaar and its surroundings from various traps weighed heavily on her mind.

“Let’s go!” she commanded, her voice sharp and decisive. She cast a spell on the survivors, significantly augmenting their speed. The armored vehicles were beyond hope, reduced to wreckage by the worm’s chaotic rampage. Yet, under her enchantment, they would reach the capital residence faster than any conventional means of transport. Once there, they would have to shift into a defensive posture. The protective dome of the building was sturdy enough to withstand almost any assault. And most importantly, they would have to wait for reinforcements — not just from their own ranks, but from allies beyond the Villon clan.

With these thoughts propelling her forward, Katharine hurried away from the chaos of the Grand Bazaar, unaware that the capital had already been severed from the outside world.

* * *

“Code red! I repeat, code red!” Katharine shouted as she burst into the secret meeting hall. This chamber was reserved for summoning the council of the Great Princes, activated solely by magical commands from Katharine herself or by a designated individual possessing a special magical seal temporarily bestowed upon them. The hall was modest in size but sufficient for a podium, with seats arranged in a semicircular pattern for holographic communication. At Katharine’s urgent command, the lights flickered to a scarlet hue, signaling an emergency call. Taking a moment to gather herself, she sank into a comfortable chair, though relaxation felt far from her grasp. She was aware that her residence was fortified with every possible protective spell.

As the princes began to connect to the council, their curious gazes fell upon Katharine. She had made no effort to tidy herself, and her appearance spoke volumes about the fact that she had just returned from a fierce skirmish. Her clothes were stained with blood, dirt, and soot, and her hair was a disheveled mess, a stark contrast to her usual polished look. Yet, despite her disarray, she retained an undeniable beauty. Even in this state, she resembled a movie star — one who could step onto a film set for an epic war drama, evoking tears and admiration for her resilience from an entire audience.

However, impressing the Great Princes was a different matter than charming ordinary citizens. As the last of them settled into their seats, Roland Desmond could not resist delivering a sarcastic quip: “Katharine, what a sight! Did your airship crash in some junkyard? Or perhaps you had a gas explosion in your residence? I remember advising you not to skimp on maintenance…”

The red-haired princess dismissed his taunting with a firm resolve, diving straight into the crux of the matter. “Right now, you will find this no laughing matter. I have irrefutable evidence that Max Richter is alive. I saw him face to face, and my clan is currently engaged in an unequal battle against him!”

As the weight of her words settled in, the other princes absorbed the shocking news. Roland sighed heavily, a mix of disbelief and annoyance crossing his features. “Kat, maybe that’s enough? More nonsense,” he said dismissively.

“Exactly, darling,” Regina chimed in sarcastically. “We all know the Villons are struggling, but blaming everything on a dead man? That’s a bit much. You can’t fix a tarnished reputation like that, my bunny.”

Gunther Steiger added his voice to the chorus of skepticism. “I can’t believe you pulled me away from a unique development for this!”

Katharine felt her face flush with frustration. Rising from her chair, she launched into a passionate, furious tirade. “You can say whatever you want, but half the capital are my witnesses! Chimeras are rampaging through the streets! I destroyed one with my own hands! Come and see for yourselves if you’re not cowards! I demand that all the Great Clans fulfill their allied duty and collectively strike against Richter before he wipes us all out!”

Exchanging skeptical glances, the princes could sense that Villon’s mental state was being questioned by many. Yet before anyone could respond, the holographic images of the princes flickered — communication issues, perhaps — and moments later, a seventh figure joined their ranks. Dressed in a dark green velvet suit that looked freshly tailored, he appeared immaculately groomed, with a smooth complexion and an unsettling triumphant smile. It was the embodiment of their worst nightmares. Dramatically brushing a nonexistent speck of dust from his cuff, he addressed the gathering: “Katharine, thank you very much for the introduction. Indeed, it is I — Maximilian Richter, the Grand Duke of Richterberg. Have you missed me?”

Chapter 17

Some time ago

“SO, BEFORE IT WAS EXCLUSIVELY a magical connection?” Lifeng asked, her surprise evident. We were discussing the evolving means by which the Grand Princes communicated to arrange a council without needing to be in the same location. Even during the tensions between the Villons and the Bergmans, I had sensed change in the air, yet there hadn’t been an urgent impetus to delve into the details at the time. Still, I had tasked Lifeng with uncovering as much information as she could. Now, it seemed that the method of communication had shifted to something technomagical, relying on the modern internet. I couldn’t help but wonder why they had abandoned the old ways, which were undoubtedly more reliable. In the past, the princes met in person or utilized servants as astral projections — a complex spell enabling a prince to inhabit the body of a subordinate positioned at a distant negotiation table. During this process, the consciousness of the original owner would slip into a deep slumber, leaving them completely unaware of the negotiations taking place. That spell was intricate, requiring an additional ritual performed by the collective energies of all seven princes. It was a technique unique to us, one that could not be replicated by anyone else in the world. Perhaps this was the missing piece of the puzzle. After my “death,” what if they could no longer perform the ritual? Even if they believed I would not return, fear might have kept them from reverting to the old methods. Regardless, that concern was moot now. I had entrusted Lifeng with the information about the previous method, hoping it might aid her understanding.

Things had shifted dramatically, though. Lifeng had proven herself capable, discovering how the new system functioned. She didn’t rely solely on her hacking skills but rather on her connections with Octavia and Blanche. Both girls, positioned high within their respective clans, lacked direct access to the council but still managed to gather valuable insights. Thus, Lifeng initially assessed what she gleaned from them before conducting her own investigation, all while exercising due caution. But now, with a clear goal in mind, we at least knew where to begin our efforts to connect with the council.

“The thing is,” Lifeng said, raising her hands in frustration as I entered her lab after Katharine had hastily fled from the Grand Bazaar with the remnants of her people, “even if I know where to hit, we won’t be able to breach the Villons’ security in half an hour. This job requires more than a day’s work — maybe even a week. Plus, there’s a very high chance we’ll get caught and that the protocols will change.”

I nodded in acknowledgment. “That’s why I didn’t ask you to prepare for this in advance,” I replied, “but I have an idea that I want to test.”

Lifeng’s expression shifted to one of curiosity. “Now that’s interesting. Your suggestions are usually completely crazy, but they have a way of working out. I still can’t quite believe we managed to create a flash drive from your finger, even though I helped with that.”

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking of,” I continued. “Just think: I can send you images that I see with my own eyes, share thoughts, and so on. So why not go further and send my own consciousness into the network?”

Lifeng froze, her eyes widening in surprise. She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t quite manage to form any words, closing it again and again, like a fish out of water. It took her a moment to regain her composure, but when she did, she stammered, “That’s some kind of cyberpunk fantasy. I’ve read books about this… and I want that, too! Max, but I have no idea if it’s even possible.”

“If you recall, I was able to study the contents of your computer when we first connected the flash drive,” I pointed out.

Lifeng’s cheeks flushed as she remembered the moment I discovered the various adult cartoons she referred to as “hentai.” Clearly, she preferred to steer clear of that conversation. Still, she cautioned me, “Listen, that was just for a few seconds, and I was in a completely safe environment. This could be extremely dangerous if you plan to go beyond my servers. After that, you could lose your sanity, or worse, you might not find your way back — or even die!”

“I understand all of this perfectly,” I replied, standing my ground. “But I’m ready to take the risk. Besides, the level of danger is actually quite low compared to what we’ve gotten ourselves into already. Believe me, even Katharine is more dangerous than any network trap I might encounter. And don’t even get me started on the other Great Princes I’ll have to face. So just help me set everything up.”

Lifeng’s expression was still tinged with doubt, but curiosity sparked in her eyes. I knew she wouldn’t pass up the chance to explore something new within her area of expertise. With that agreement, the matter felt, so to speak, settled. “Alright, but promise me you’ll be careful,” she said, her tone serious.

“Of course,” I promised, making an effort to suppress a smile.

Instantly, the hacker flipped into work mode. “I won’t remind you of the danger again, but you’re right. If this works, we can save a significant amount of time and effort when it comes to hacking the Villon security protocol.” She then launched into a brief lecture, one that lasted no more than five minutes. I learned that the technomagical connection was a blend of both technology and magic — and vice versa.

Lifeng had become a successful hacker not just by chance; she possessed unique gifts that allowed her to accomplish things most people couldn’t. Though her abilities hadn’t yet broadened significantly — she was still considered just a master in her field — she consistently made the most of the opportunities available to her. Lifeng was well-versed in various specific spells that required minimal energy but demanded precision and care during their application. Now, with her own dragon spirit, her energy reserves were bound to grow. This was an inevitability and required no extra energy expenditure from her. By merely strengthening her connection to the spirit, she was reaping the benefits.

Meanwhile, I was fortunate enough to possess ample energy — far more than ninety-nine percent of hackers in the world, based on what Lifeng had told me. Putting my power and her knowledge together, we could practically achieve the impossible.

* * *

“So, how is it?” Lifeng asked with excitement when I left our secure local network and dove into the vast expanse of the internet.

“I’ve never seen so many cats in my life,” I admitted. “I was swept along a tunnel filled with all sorts of junk at breakneck speed.” The photos and videos of cats were a surprising highlight amid the chaos. Unfortunately, they were interspersed with tasteless and obnoxious advertising banners, a substantial number of which were utterly vulgar. “You know,” I added thoughtfully, “your collection of videos wasn’t bad at all. Tasteful. A far cry from what I’m seeing now.”

“Max!” Lifeng exclaimed. “Please, stop reminding me of that!”

“I can’t promise that,” I replied, suppressing a grin. “Not when you’re so amusing…”

“Alright, I get it. I won’t react anymore,” she assured me, putting on a terribly serious face that was still quite comical.

By the way, I had taken her warning about easily getting lost while navigating the network seriously; I left an anchor in my real body that would help me keep tabs on what was happening around me in the real world if needed.

Of course, I devoted most of my attention to steering my journey through the network. The good news was that the virtual environment appeared quite intuitive and even convenient. “I think this magical consciousness is actually creating a comfortable environment for you,” Lifeng suggested. “In reality, every cat in your path is just a set of symbols that your brain automatically decodes. Oh, how I wish I could be inside it myself! But at least I’m glad I can see everything through you.”

“You promised me a guide,” I reminded her, wanting to keep her focused amidst her excitement.

“Yes, right away!” she exclaimed, quickly modifying one of her programs. “I already had the necessary code; I just needed to add a user-friendly interface. Now a helper will appear next to you — Clippy.”

Indeed, a peculiar creature resembling an ordinary paperclip with eyes quickly caught up with me. “Weird looking thing,” I remarked.

“Well,” Lifeng explained, “this shape just brings back some pleasant retro memories for me.” The Clippy zipped ahead with great purpose. Shrugging, I followed, navigating through the tunnels once again. Without a guide, I knew it would have been far more challenging to find my way here. The surrounding space was not only cluttered with a hodgepodge of digital debris, but also riddled with an overwhelming array of forks, turns, and pathways. Each route shimmered in different colors, blinked, and emitted a cacophony of sounds.

Clippy seemed to handle its job with confidence, and within a few minutes, it led me straight to the capital servers of the Villons, where I was greeted by a standard antivirus. It didn’t impress me much. In front of the gates to the grand mansion of the clan, dozens of small drones fluttered around. ‘They call this security?’ I thought. To be fair, they probably hadn’t anticipated a wayward prince-necromancer infiltrating their domain on the World Wide Web.

With a mere flick of my wrist, I dispatched them with shadow daggers and calmly made my way inside. Clippy guided me further down, this time leading us to the basement where Katharine’s most secret and well-protected server lay hidden. As we traveled, I had to dispatch a few more drones, but what awaited me in the basement truly caught both me and Lifeng off guard.

“I didn’t think I’d encounter a defense protocol in such a form,” I mused aloud. It was a fascinating sight. Instead of the pitiful drones I had previously encountered, there was an entire obstacle course barring my passage through the basement. A narrow, swaying bridge stretched over an abyss, lined with a network of lasers, primed to detect anyone daring to cross. Huge combat turrets on the opposite side had already locked onto me, just waiting for me to cross the invisible threshold that would signal an attack. The drones were present here as well, but these were far more impressive: fast and well-armored, they patrolled the area surrounding the bridge. As if that wasn’t enough, I also encountered a set of gates at the end of the path, secured with multiple locks.

Lifeng continued to ponder the situation. “But, in general, in the form of code, it’s almost the same. I mean, it’s just as intimidating.”

“Any ideas on how to get around this?” I asked, surveying the barriers.

“Well... I think I can unlock some of the locks on the gates, but for the rest, I’m at a loss. Under normal circumstances, I’d need at least a couple of weeks. However, I can help you activate my latest camouflage development. Maybe it’ll make the drones stop reacting to you.”

“Let’s do it,” I agreed — after all, there weren’t many alternatives. The first and most obvious thought in a situation like this was to simply teleport to the other side. Could it really be that simple? But then again, why not try? With a focused thought, I teleported, leaving the bridge, the lasers, and the traps behind.

“Whoa! That... was cheating!” Lifeng exclaimed, her voice a mix of surprise and awe. “But I realized something. Spells in virtuality aren’t identical to those in reality. You might think you’re using familiar magic, but in actuality, your brain automatically transforms them into the correct format based on your surroundings. This... is very intriguing.”

“Think about it later. Now hack the locks,” I urged.

“Right away!” she readily responded. In just two minutes, we managed to hack every lock on the gates except for one. “I can’t,” she admitted, disappointment clear in her voice. “This last one definitely requires a key. There’s no way to break through. Definitely not in just a few minutes... Sorry, Max. I’ve let you down...”

While Lifeng lamented, my mind raced with possibilities. A key... could that be what distinguished the Great Princes from random passersby? It made sense that my hacker couldn’t find a solution without it. I approached the last lock, which appeared electronic, and pressed my signet ring against it.

Something began to emit an unpleasant sawing sound and the gates opened.

* * *

The current time

I had barely finished my introductory statement when a deafening laugh erupted in the council hall. It was difficult to discern how much of it stemmed from genuine amusement and how much from hysteria. Regina Scipion doubled over, howling with laughter, clutching her stomach as if it were about to burst. Katharine stared at her in horror, and soon her gaze began to dart wildly between everyone present at this virtual meeting. My sudden appearance had clearly knocked the ground out from under her, and, as usual, she was desperately searching for someone to cling to for support.

Gunther Steiger, comfortably seated in his estate, jumped up momentarily, fists clenched, then flopped back down, his short legs twitching nervously. In stark contrast, Armand Salazar maintained a calm facade, not a muscle twitching on his face. It was as though he hadn’t noticed my arrival. Most likely, he simply didn’t know how to react, displaying enough composure to think through the situation without succumbing to panic. Raksha Kanwar, too, constrained his emotions, sitting cross-legged on the window of his monastery, quietly observing the unfolding drama.

Only Roland Desmond, my sworn friend and rival, dared to break the silence. He laughed, concealing his confusion, but unlike the manic Regina, he aimed for a relaxed and friendly demeanor. “What a surprise, Max!” he exclaimed. “Is it really you?”

But I had no intention of maintaining cordiality with any of them. Following my plan, I conveyed what I had prepared: “I, the Grand Prince and Great Princes Council member, Maximilian Richter, accuse Katharine Villon of an unprovoked attack on my clan and my allies. I declare war on the Villon clan and intend to fight to the last fighter. Any assistance to the Villons, sheltering their people, or hindering the punitive actions of the Richter clan and its allies by other Great Clans and their vassals will be regarded as hostile actions.” The weight of my words settled heavily in the chamber, the atmosphere shifting as the laughter faded into stunned silence. As soon as I had begun to speak, even Regina had fallen silent. Every prince leaned in, listening with a mix of tension and attentiveness. After a brief pause, I continued: “A war will also be declared on any clan that aligns itself with the Villons. All its representatives within the capital will be exterminated. Any property will be seized. You all know I have the power to do this. By the end of today, the Villon clan will cease to be great and will face utter annihilation.”

No one rushed to respond. The princes were clearly taken aback, each one wanting to carefully consider their reply. This, I thought, was even better. I turned my attention to Katharine. She was doing her best to hold onto her dignity, but her pallid face resembled a white mask at that moment. “What about you, Kat?” I addressed her directly. “I recommend you surrender to save the lives of your people. Though, of course, everyone here knows your primary concern is your own life.”

“How dare you?!” she squeaked, her indignation palpable. “How did you even manage to get in here?”

I smiled at her. “Rejoice. At least now they will believe you.”

She opened her mouth, about to retort, but I cut her off. Before leaving the council hall, I added, “I warn everyone one last time: do not interfere. Although, in the grand scheme of things, I could hardly care less. I hope you haven’t forgotten my principle? The more enemies I have, the more servants I gain.”

Chapter 18

“SO WHO IS THE FOOL now?” Katharine said triumphantly as she looked around at everyone after Max left the meeting room. For a moment, she seemed to forget her dire situation, perhaps thinking that with everyone now convinced of her perspective, they could no longer dismiss her. She continued, “Now that you have no doubts, let’s discuss the defense plan. I expect all of you in the capital, with your armies, in a couple of hours.”

“Don’t rush,” Armand interrupted, raising a hand. “First, can someone explain what Richter meant when he said he would destroy everyone in the capital? Isn’t he taking on too much?”

“A lot!” Katharine joyfully agreed. “That’s why we need to unite now and—”

“Unfortunately,” Roland interjected emphatically, “I must make an announcement that won’t be pleasant for anyone. The Desmond railway network around the capital has malfunctioned.”

“How?!” Katharine exclaimed. “Did another train derail?”

“If only…” Roland replied grimly. “The preliminary investigation showed that the eternal foci have somehow shifted so that their nuclei are now right on the tracks.”

“How is that possible?!” Villon panicked once more. “Foci can grow, but they can’t just shift wherever they please! Maybe these are just new foci? Alphas or betas… Then we need to send cleansers there…”

“No,” Desmond cut in. “Do you think I’m an idiot? That’s the first thing we did. We sent a strong team of cleansers to one of the tracks, capable of handling even young deltas. In the end, they lost about a dozen fighters and didn’t even reach the center.”

“So this is at least a seasoned delta, possibly an epsilon,” Salazar grimly summarized. “To clear something like this, we will have to gather cleansers from several cities.”

“If it’s an epsilon,” Steiger said, “it would be easier to rebuild the roads to go around it.”

Desmond had no choice but to agree with them. “That’s right. Just finding a solution will take at least a week. And, let’s face it, we don’t have any good ideas yet.”

“So Richter has taken all our assets and people in the capital hostage…” Gunther grimly summarized. This realization worried him considerably more than the others. The Steiger trading empire boasted several factories in the capital, dozens of warehouses stocked with equipment, and numerous retail outlets where they sold their goods. The thought of losing all of this in an instant was a frightening prospect. He didn’t particularly trust that his people could defend the clan’s property from Richter without his involvement. Katharine could already read from his expression that he definitely wouldn’t support her.

Meanwhile, Regina idly twirled a black curl around her finger before suddenly bursting into laughter again. “And Max is great! He’s got you all by the balls, huh?”

“Are you laughing at yourself? We’re all in the same boat,” Gunther snapped back, his frustration clear.

“Oh no,” Regina continued, clearly enjoying herself, “I never intended to help that red-haired fool. And I’m not fretting over my wealth in the capital like some people.” Indeed, unlike the Steigers, the Scipions had no clan businesses worth mentioning. Their representatives were each engaged in their own affairs, usually with some degree of success, though not to the scale of Gunther’s billion-dollar empire. Moreover, the Scipions were the smallest Great Clan, with only five or six representatives currently in the capital, not counting Octavia.

Katharine clenched her fists. Regina had called her a fool again! It always bothered her that the other princes considered her the dumbest among them. She would have liked to ignore it, but right now, it felt extremely unfair, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her reply was far more measured than Regina’s taunts. After all, even in this tense moment, the Scipions intimidated her just as much as Max did. “I was right! I was the only one who understood what was happening!” she exclaimed.

“So what?” Regina huffed. “What did you do with that knowledge? Instead of analyzing the situation and gathering more information, you charged in headfirst. You’ve backed poor Max into a corner. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

The word “analysis” and the coherent reasoning from Princess Scipion left the others looking at her as if they had seen a ghost. Regina rarely deigned to explain anything to anyone, let alone with such clarity. After her fit of maniacal laughter, it was even more unsettling.

“He would have attacked me anyway! Don’t you understand?” Katharine insisted. “If we don’t finish him off together now, he’ll destroy us all one by one!”

“I have no doubt…” Salazar drawled, “that it benefits you to present everything in this way. It seems Richter has no claims against us. He made it quite clear that they will arise only if we involve ourselves in your war.”

Katharine flared up again, indignant at having to explain such simple concepts. “Wake up! You’ve lived longer than any of us, but you can’t see this is a bluff? He won’t stop; he’ll take revenge on everyone!”

Curiously, Gunther seized on Salazar’s idea with enthusiasm. “Why didn’t he act sooner, then? We all have business in the capital, you’re the only one at war with him. Maybe he doesn’t even know what happened.”

“You shouldn’t have gone after him, Kat,” Roland suddenly chimed in, aligning his thoughts with Gunther’s.

Regina, however, seemed to be in high spirits; the unfolding drama appeared to amuse her. “How about we tell Max that the Villons are to blame for everything, and we’re not involved?” she chuckled. “How would he know the truth if he’s been hiding in some hole for a thousand years?”

No one took her suggestion seriously, but many exchanged glances. Katharine understood immediately what they intended. They really meant to discard her. Just “dump” her, as they put it now. This thought filled her with a potent mix of rage and horror. So contradictory were her feelings that, for a moment, she simply froze, stunned, trying to comprehend the situation she found herself in.

During this time, the members of the council of Great Princes began to disconnect from the conversation. The first to leave was Steiger. He quickly made up his mind — too much was at stake to risk remaining in a situation where it was simply impossible to transfer troops to the capital.

The second to say goodbye was Salazar. He saw no point in participating in the turmoil; there were already too many problems, particularly in Costa Sirena. Additionally, he had every reason to suspect the Villons of shady activities against his clan. He lacked direct evidence, but the shards of the Villon artifact found at the scene of the massacre of his son Bastian’s squad suggested certain conclusions, such as the possibility that the Villons were selling them to Salazar’s enemies. In general, Armand had no objections if Katharine simply disappeared; it would spare him the headache of deciding whether to demand an explanation from her or declare war immediately.

The third to leave the council, declaring, “It’s a pleasure as always, but I must go,” was Regina. Katharine felt a flicker of relief at that, but now, with only two left in the council, she finally came to her senses. She realized that if she didn’t convince at least one of them to stand by her side, it was all over for her. She quickly shifted her gaze between the two remaining princes. Raksha Kanwar had hardly participated in the conversation thus far, yet he had hinted more than once that he would like to know her better. However, Katharine had always despised him, considering him the weakest and most ridiculous of them all. Still, perhaps it was worth giving him some hope... but later.

First, her attention fell on Roland. He had, by contrast, emerged as the unspoken leader of the council of the Great Princes since Max’s disappearance. Desmond had been formidable even under Richter’s influence; he was the only one who could actually face him in a duel, even if he always lost. But now he was stronger — definitely stronger. Significantly stronger. The gears in Katharine’s head spun at a frantic pace. Not wasting any time while Desmond was still connected, she stepped closer to his hologram and made the most miserable face in the world. “Roland... are you really going to let me be torn apart? After everything that happened between us...?”

Desmond frowned but didn’t have the opportunity to respond. Instead, Raksha Kanwar jumped down from the windowsill where he had been perched and exclaimed angrily, “You said you were just friends! You lying whore! You slept with him while I... Go to hell!” For someone who constantly meditated and mortified the flesh, his nerves left much to be desired. He didn’t wait for Katharine’s reply, angrily disconnecting from the call. The corners of Desmond’s lips curled into a brief smile, but he quickly returned to a mournful expression. “You have to understand me, Kat. I have train stations, assets in the capital... a lot of people. I can’t afford to go to war right now. And I don’t believe that Max will kill you. He liked you.”

With each word, Katharine felt a darkness envelop her, and Roland continued to push her down. “Come on, darling, remember your charms. If you’re lucky, Richter will forgive you. And if not? I will definitely avenge you. One day. I really enjoyed being with you.” He, too, did not wait for Katharine’s response before disconnecting. In a fit of fury, Princess Villon began to summon the council again. How dare they leave her so easily?! Alone against Richter. Against the Scourge of Antiquity. They were all to blame! Why should she be the only one to pay?! Katharine paced the hall, but in the end, only one screen lit up — and that was only for a few seconds. Regina smirked and blew her a kiss. “I will miss you, bunny,” she sang in a sweet voice before disconnecting.

Then, a siren blared in her residence. This could only mean one thing: the Richters were storming.

* * *

At first, I wanted to obliterate the Villon clan down to the last person, as was dictated by the rules of clan wars. My rage toward the traitors was overwhelming, and the thirst for revenge demanded to be quenched. I was convinced that sparing even one enemy would invite an unyielding avenger at my back, one who would repay my kindness with betrayal sooner or later. However, after spending time in the modern world, I recognized that the moral boundaries of people — especially the aristocrats — had grown much more flexible. Fear for their own asses overwhelmingly eclipsed any sense of loyalty. The captured Villon scholars toiled in my laboratories without a shred of moral torment, even crafting weapons to be used against their own kind. At one point, I couldn’t help but inquire of Louis Villon, the one we had saved in the anthill, why this was occurring. He shrugged and explained that wars between clans had become increasingly rare, while conspiracies, contract killings, and duels among their own had risen in frequency. Thus, clan members had begun to see themselves not as a single family, a monolith, but rather as a jar of spiders, where only the strongest survived.

This perspective shifted my views on the Villons. Instead of seeing them as a plague to be burned away with a hot iron, I began to regard them as a resource to be utilized for my own purposes.

A conversation with Blanche also marked a turning point in my reflections. This encounter took place just before the general battle. Blanche Villon, like most other participants in the operation, remained in the “stable” for security reasons while her sworn friend and puppeteer, Octavia, headed to her residence to prepare for the impending performance. After the events in Costa Sirena, where Blanche had proven herself to be quite an independent member of the team, I concluded that constant surveillance of her was no longer necessary. Of course, her doll was kept in the Scipion mansion, a constant reminder that Blanche’s life could be ended at any moment. However, considering modern realities, I saw no need to “keep my finger on the trigger” all the time.

It seemed that Blanche was somewhat unsettled by the unexpected freedom that had come her way, especially since Octavia never missed an opportunity to remind her who was in charge and who was merely the doll. The look on Blanche’s face as she wandered through the estate reflected this uncertainty; she drifted from room to room, aimlessly distracting everyone from their work. Yet, at some point, she became so weary of the disapproving glances and the murmurs directed at her that I noticed her chatting with Fred, who was indeed the perfect conversationalist in this house — polite, attentive, and always ready to listen. So, I wasn’t entirely surprised when Blanche darkened the doorway of my office, two mugs in her hands — including my favorite. I had been poring over the plans for the upcoming battle late into the night while everyone else had long since fallen asleep.

“Coffee?” she offered. I nodded, intrigued, taking in her appearance. She wore only a black lace negligee, which looked particularly striking against her fair skin. It revealed little of her figure’s merits but served to emphasize them instead. As she approached me, she leaned slightly forward, causing the edges of her clothing, held only by a thin belt, to part ever so slightly, making her appearance even more captivating. “Can’t sleep,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly, her tone utterly calm as if her attire were perfectly suitable for a social conversation. “I’m worried if everything will go well...”

“Worried?” I replied sympathetically. “Then coffee is not the best drink for you. You should drink warm milk instead.”

“Is it true that you were close to Katharine?” Blanche asked, jumping from topic to topic with the characteristic ease of women. “I sensed it when you complimented her. A stranger cannot know a woman so well.”

“It was so long ago that it’s no longer true,” I smirked. “In any case, it won’t stop me from killing her, just like the others.”

“So, you really are the Max Richter from the scary tales that nannies tell disobedient children?” Blanche’s eyes widened. “A killer and a monster who drowned the world in blood?”

“You just realized that?” I replied, a hint of surprise in my voice.

“Oh, it sends chills down my spine! Just think, I’m in the same room with such a terrible and dangerous person,” Blanche said, stretching languidly. Whatever she felt about that thought, it was clearly not fear.

“Octavia still thinks you’re one of the descendants, just someone who inherited the traits of a great-great-grandfather thanks to the genetic lottery,” she added.

“Typical human thinking,” I shrugged. “People resist the truth if it doesn’t fit within their usual knowledge. But you didn’t come for that, did you, Blanche? Not to chat with me about Katharine or Octavia?”

“What are you going to do with the Villons?” Blanche ventured. “With the whole clan? I suspect you won’t forgive Katharine — that’s personal. But what about the others, who are far removed from clan disputes or, like me, too young to have any influence on the situation?”

Funny, but if our former captive hadn’t visited me now, I would have started this conversation with her tomorrow. I would have had to convince her and position her to choose. But the girl was proving to be proactive and ambitious — also overly hasty, but that was typical of youth.

“I’ll kill them all,” I spread my hands. “That’s the rule.”

“What if they surrender?” she continued, concern creeping into her tone, which seemed genuine at first glance. But no, it was a different kind of anxiety. “If they surrender and prove their loyalty to you? After all, you didn’t kill me or those who work in the laboratory. There’s the ‘Youth of Villon’ brand — an official brand that could become…”

“The basis for a new clan.”

“Yes, a new clan!” Blanche exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Which will focus entirely on production, science, and generating profit for you, Max!” Her eyes sparkled with excitement, her cheeks flushed, and her robe fell open, but the blonde seemed oblivious to the effect she was creating.

“Do you want to become a princess, Blanche?” I asked directly, smiling.

“A Great Princess!” she whispered, her gaze drifting, as if magical images were floating before her mind’s eye.

“A vassal princess,” I interjected, ensuring clarity. “With a direct and complete vassalage agreement that cannot be terminated on your side. No independence. Full control and management by the Richters. You will reign, but not rule, Blanche. Does that suit you?”

“Princess Villon,” she whispered, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. “I will be the new Princess Villon! But… I’m not even a direct heir…”

“That’s no problem at all,” I noted. “All direct heirs will likely be dead, and if anyone remains, they probably won’t push it. Just remember — before that happens, you must demonstrate to me your complete, absolute loyalty.”

I meant the upcoming battle, but Blanche interpreted it in her own way. God knows what goes on in these women’s minds. “Of course, my lord… I will prove my absolute loyalty to you,” she purred, rising from the chair and untying the black sash around her waist.

Chapter 19

“GO OUTSIDE,” THE MESSAGE CHIMED on Blanche’s new smartphone. Now that her status in the clan had changed from prisoner to guest, and then to important ally, it was no longer feasible to leave her without a means of communication. But she couldn’t use her old phone; the Villons would easily track her through it. In the end, Blanche received a special smartphone that Lifeng had prepared for her. It came with numerous restrictions designed to protect against various spy programs and to prevent the owner’s careless actions from inadvertently revealing her location.

So now, while a war raged far from the modest residence of the Richters — referred to as a stable by Max — Blanche could only wait impatiently for news. She certainly did not feel patient, though. She nervously bit her lips as she paced back and forth in the bright, albeit not very spacious room that the Richters had allocated for her. It should be noted that she had changed rooms several times as her status shifted and the Richters’ attitudes toward her evolved. Initially, she had been given a tiny room that resembled a prison cell. Later, Scipion generously provided her with luxurious three-room quarters featuring a private jacuzzi. Now, while the conditions were not as lavish as those in Octavia’s castle, this was certainly one of the best rooms she had occupied. However, Blanche had neither time nor desire to dwell on the conditions of her guest confinement. She was far too worried. Moreover, her concerns spanned everyone at once. No matter how much she tried to deny it, she had grown attached to Max and even Octavia. She liked Olga and Alina, too. During their trip to Costa Sirena, all the girls had formed a close bond. On the other hand, she couldn’t help but fret about the fate of the Villon clan. Undoubtedly, Blanche understood that nothing would ever be the same again. While she didn’t wish for things to go back to how they were, she couldn’t shake the gravity of the situation.

Blanche had never felt any special affection for Katharine, unlike some who went wild with delight at the mere sight of her. Even Dominic, with whom she had spent a lot of time on his team, was not a friend to her. Of course, she felt a pang of sorrow when he died that day, but to be frank, he had always been an extremely arrogant jerk. That was largely due to him being Katharine’s nephew and a representative of the clan elite. He treated people like Blanche as if they were the help.

Still, there were members of the Villon clan that Blanche cherished. For this reason, she had previously asked Max for permission to discreetly signal them to stay away from the impending war. Yet, she had never received a direct answer, nor had she gotten any news “from the fields” up until that moment. So, when she was ordered to go outside, she sprinted out like a bullet, slipping into her high-heeled shoes along the way. From the very beginning, Blanche had dressed to resemble her counterpart, whose likeness had been blown to pieces in the Grand Bazaar. She wore a form-fitting silver evening dress, an elegant updo, and stylish makeup that highlighted her natural beauty as a Villon. Blanche had dyed her hair red again, but this time, she wasn’t trying to imitate Katharine; rather, she intended to cultivate her own vibrant image.

A convoy of cars awaited her at the stables. At the front were Octavia’s armored limousine and Max’s Lamborghini. Richter himself stood outside, leaning against the hood of the chimera-mobile. “Are you ready?” he asked with a smile, appraising her from head to toe. “I see everything is just as I said.”

Blanche nodded, elegantly waving her clutch. “Everything, down to the last accessory, just like on the doll. Though… I don’t think it’ll be very comfortable to storm the Villon residence in this,” she attempted a weak joke.

Max raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Who said you would be fighting? There are people for that. You have a different task. Right now, we are going to make you a princess.”

* * *

“Someone, stop this mess already!” Klaus Nine, the director of the First Capital Television Company, could no longer contain his frustration. Having held this position for many years, he had never faced such difficulty in ensuring the office operated smoothly. Under normal circumstances, his presence among the ordinary staff of the news studio was unnecessary; the television company functioned like a well-oiled machine. Every employee knew their role and what was expected. But now, chaos reigned! Every editor and correspondent was clamoring to push their own news onto the air. Each one believed they knew best how to cover the unfolding events.

And the news was indeed shocking. The streets of the capital were engulfed in war, perhaps the most serious conflict in decades, if not centuries. One of the Great Clans had flouted the unspoken rule of non-interference in the affairs of smaller clans and initiated open hostilities. Reports even suggested that it was losing this war. A sensation? Absolutely!

But how much of it was true? Alongside the fighting, the capital was inundated with fakes. Blurred video recordings from the vicinity of the Grand Bazaar and the Villon residence swirled about, showing very strange creatures — strange even for magical clans. In any case, no one had encountered such entities before.

Adding to the panic was the news that all four railway lines were blocked, effectively isolating the city. Yet there were no confirmations of this. The Desmond officials remained silent, while their subordinates agreed to speak only under anonymity and for a hefty reward. Naturally, the value of such information was dubious at best.

Regardless, trains in all directions were already unacceptably delayed today. So much news was swirling around, yet it was categorically impossible to air any of it. When Great Clans were involved, one wrong word could cost not just a career, but a life as well. Klaus Nine was an old and cunning fox, and he understood this well. So, he waited patiently, hoping for clarity to emerge from the chaos. But even he began to lose his nerve amidst all this mayhem.

“Everyone calm down right now!” the director slammed his palm on the table, silencing his subordinates. “Thomas,” he addressed his deputy, “gather and sort into folders everything that is known at the moment. But don’t broadcast anything.”

“But how can we...” the deputy protested, “it’s already time for the evening news! Prime time! Our competitors have already gone on air twice with special editions, and we are still waiting... What are we going to show on the news?!”

“Just run a ballet instead of them! Ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ra-ta-ta!” Klaus mocked. “But not a single unconfirmed rumor from our TV studio should go out into the world! Not even confirmed ones — not until I personally approve the news for broadcast.”

“But... but we are missing so many sensations!” Tears welled up in Thomas’s eyes from the disappointment. “How can this be?!” The faces of the others present reflected the same range of emotions. Most of them hoped to make a career out of today’s events, or at the very least, gain a significant boost in their careers.

However, Klaus remained resolute. “That’s it! And don’t bother me for at least half an hour!” he barked before storming off to his office, slamming the door loudly behind him as if to emphasize the seriousness of his words.

Finally alone with himself, he sank into his chair and let out a heavy sigh. His smartphone had long been turned off and lay in the desk drawer. The two ancient “landline” phones, known only to the city administration and representatives of the Great Clans, had been unplugged. At last, he could enjoy a couple of minutes of respite...

But the universe had other plans for him. He hadn’t even settled properly into the chair when one of the senior editors, Tina Wilson, burst into his office. An eternally disheveled and flustered elderly woman with huge glasses, Klaus always thought of her as a lady with quirks. But at the same time, Tina was a true professional. That did not give her the right to appear before him without knocking, though!

“I told you not to let anyone in! And you, Tina, this applies to you too!”

The woman showed no signs of embarrassment. “Blanche Villon has come to see you,” she stated bluntly.

“Blanche?” Klaus frowned. “Are you out of your mind? She was killed during the presentation. Live on air.”

Tina shrugged. “She looks more alive than anyone. Maybe she had a twin.”

“What does she want?” the director asked suspiciously. Familiar chills ran down his back, signaling that he might have stumbled upon a thread leading to answers about the absurdities unfolding around him.

“What do you mean?” The elderly editor was taken aback by the question, her tone making Klaus feel foolish. “She wants to make an urgent statement.”

He didn’t have time to respond before his secretary, Lucia, burst into the office, breathless. The girl had quite remarkable attributes — bright and lively — capable of presenting herself beautifully while also elevating Klaus’s status in the eyes of visitors. But now, she appeared more frightened than impressive. “There’s not just Blanche Villon!” she exclaimed as she entered the office. “There’s a man who calls himself Max Richter and claims that his clan controls the city!”

Richter… Klaus remembered that name. As a professional in his field, he had a good grasp of the capital’s history, even the parts whispered about after a few drinks. It seemed incredible, but the arrival of this man explained everything. He jumped up, struck by a sudden realization. “Immediately take them to the conference room,” he ordered. “Fulfill all their requests. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Coffee?” the secretary asked, her confusion evident. “They asked for coffee.”

“Of course, make them coffee!” Klaus exclaimed, initially surprised by her hesitation, but then reconsidered. “Actually, no. Don’t make it. Under no circumstances make it! Bring it from the cafe on the first floor.” Lucia pouted, but Klaus had little concern for her grievances at that moment. Indeed, his secretary had numerous wonderful features, but the coffee she made was disgusting.

* * *

“I don’t believe it…” Kristel Villon couldn’t help but exclaim in surprise.

“I’m fine, little sister,” read the text message from none other than Louis, who had been missing since that fateful train incident some time ago. Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘That idiot is still alive; what happiness!’

The phone beeped again. “And don’t even think about getting involved in the war. Or if you do, make sure it’s not on Katharine’s side. Everything will change soon. Take care of yourself, Pumpkin. And turn on the news. Right now.”

Ding! Ding! Ding! The message for Kristel was just the beginning. Very soon, similar messages from friends and acquaintances reached almost all the scientists in the laboratory complex where she worked. Quite a few colleagues, whom everyone had long considered dead, turned out to be alive and secretly working for Blanche Villon. It seemed impossible, but Kristel was certain it was all true. No one but Louis had ever called her “Pumpkin,” a name he had reserved just for her.

Now, she had to decide what to do about it. While heated debates ensued, Kristel remained silent. However, everyone shared a common understanding. Many scientists sensed the falseness in the research conducted recently. Something felt wrong with the work they were doing. Their bio-additives and cosmetics failed to restore the bodies of the ungifted or mages, as healers’ products were supposed to. Instead, they drained the life from their patients in exchange for a momentary “pretty picture.”

The fact that their patients were left disabled due to the consequences of mutations years later was of no concern to the clan’s leadership. Now, the employees were receiving confirmations of their suspicions from their loved ones. And then there was that direct broadcast from Blanche. She conducted herself with such confidence, as if Katharine Villon were already a thing of the past, and her monstrous power meant nothing.

But of course, there were those who did not take kindly to these developments. For example, the director of their complex. Etienne Villon was such a distant relative of the clan leader that he struggled to even name the degree of their kinship — either a grandnephew or a third cousin once removed. However, he was counted among the “direct” heirs, reported his accomplishments directly to Katharine, and was completely dependent on her favor. Losing her was not an option he entertained.

“How can you even seriously discuss betrayal?” he fumed, pacing the corridors. “Everyone who is listening to this crap right now will be punished later! Quickly put away your smartphones!”

But no one paid attention to his words. The particularly bold ones even dared to challenge him directly. “What? Afraid to be without protection?” smirked a tall young man who had only recently started working there; Kristel didn’t know his name.

“You, little son of a bitch! What did they write to you?!” the director lost his temper and snatched the smartphone from the young man’s hands. A small scuffle broke out, but they were quickly pulled apart. Fewer people seemed willing to participate in anything just then. Many were leaving their workplaces en masse, choosing to go home and wait out the crisis away from the looming threat of war.

Kristel decided to follow their example. Just in time. As soon as she stepped away from the building, black-tinted cars drove up, from which stern-faced Asians emerged, clad in suits and black glasses. Each of them was accompanied by their spirits. ‘Mao,’ Kristel realized immediately.

She quickened her pace but still turned back, watching from a safe distance as a Mao entered their corporation. A confrontation began at the entrance between him and those who still remained loyal to Katharine.

To her surprise, Kristel started to hear slogans of a completely different nature being shouted. “Long live Blanche!” Energy blasts flew at the guards from those who refused to give their lives for the “old witch.”

* * *

My presence at the television studio was no longer necessary. However, I certainly didn’t leave Blanche unguarded. A contingent of guards and phantoms, accompanied by their chimeras, patrolled the streets around the building and the corridors within. The main forces were already gathering at the Villon residence.

The situation with Blanche, along with our secret weapon — the scientists who had long been working for me — had played out exceptionally well. Much better than I had anticipated. It seemed Katharine had managed to embed her own people over the thousand years. They seized the first opportunity to rid themselves of her. Of course, not all of them had turned; according to preliminary calculations by Lifeng, about thirty percent remained loyal. Most of them were not truly strong; frequently, they were simple workers who had little interest in the ongoing wars. They understood perfectly that, regardless of how the situation unfolded, they were likely to be caught in the crossfire.

Right now, Katharine was in a position where she was prepared to mobilize not just the clan fighters, but everyone in general. Many were now facing a choice between almost certain death and a slim chance of anything better.

That hope became embodied in Blanche. Her speech, while not enough to turn the wavering Villons against their former colleagues, successfully persuaded them to step aside until things became clearer. For us, even that was a significant stroke of luck. After all, the Villons could easily crush us with sheer numbers. With all the allies, chimeras, and undead at their disposal, the Richters lacked a sufficient number of fighters to confront an entire Great Clan, even if not all its representatives were in the capital. The disparity in numbers remained too daunting. Yet, the confused Villons were no different from any other frightened populace. They hadn’t faced a truly formidable enemy in many centuries. When rumors of the slaughter at the Grand Bazaar reached them, they quickly succumbed to panic and lost faith in Katharine. Blanche managed to sway them while they were still warm, promising not only that their lives would not be threatened but also that they would enjoy much more comfortable living conditions in the renewed Villon clan.

Even so, although our task was significantly eased, it was far from simple. Our squads were gathering from the various points where the Villons had retreated and offered little to no resistance. But their main residence still appeared impregnable. The warriors guarding it would undoubtedly be more vigilant than during the battle at the Grand Bazaar.

All our successes in storming clinics, laboratories, warehouses, shops, and Villon factories counted for little. It was one thing to scatter a couple of dozen confused and frightened workers, most of whom had likely never fought seriously in their lives. But it was an entirely different matter to assault a well-defended building filled with trained soldiers. The situation at the Grand Bazaar had been different. We held a defensive position, granting us the time to think through a plan of action and set traps.

The Villons had walked into the beast’s lair, completely unaware. Now, they were on their territory, facing an embittered Katharine. Yes, she was scared, but that fear would only fuel her people’s determination to fight fiercely. To be honest, I didn’t have a foolproof plan for how exactly to break through their defenses. Lifeng had managed to breach part of their defensive systems right after the council concluded. But what would happen next was still uncertain. I had no clear plan; rather, I had several possibilities, each fraught with its own risks and challenges.

Chapter 20

“WE CAN’T BE taken!” Bernard Villon encouraged his men, the leader of the combat squad assigned to guard the main entrance of the clan residence. The structure resembled a true medieval fortress, complete with four floors of towers and sturdy stone walls. Despite its location almost in the city center, it stood out significantly with its classic, even ancient, appearance. The castle was surrounded by high walls and featured heavy gates, creating an imposing presence. There had once been a moat encircling it, but over time, that precaution became unnecessary and was replaced with carefully tended lawns and flowerbeds. Gradually, the Villon residence was perceived more as a museum from the outside than as an operational fortress. However, this did not imply that its defenses were inadequately thought out.

Indeed, despite the building’s antiquity, much had been modernized. The gates were fitted with electronic locks, and the windows, while styled to appear medieval, incorporated contemporary materials. Inside, it was clear that many elements had been reworked and redesigned to reflect modern conventions.

“You thought that about the Grand Bazaar, too,” muttered Jacques, one of the fighters. “You thought it would be an easy stroll.”

Of course, it was a direct violation of subordination to speak this way, but special circumstances warranted a different approach today. Everyone sensed that something extraordinary was unfolding, though few understood the reasons. Many were simply trying to maintain a brave face amid the chaotic situation. After all, it was essentially just a war against a couple of small clans. The Villons had every right to feel ashamed at even considering defeat under such circumstances.

However, the disgraceful escape from the shopping center had undeniably impacted their morale. Instead of reprimanding Jacques, Bernard began to explain patiently, “Yes, it seems we are dealing with very cunning bastards who have managed to set an ambush for our warriors. They caught us off guard. But now we are on our territory. And if they think they can repeat…”

“How did it come to this?!” shouted another fighter in frustration. “Why should we, the Great Villons, sit in our residence and defend ourselves from some weaklings?!”

At that moment, Bernard’s patience snapped. “The princess said so! Enough talk! Prepare to repel the assault!”

The defenders exchanged dissatisfied glances but fell silent, reluctantly preparing for battle. Several squads of strange creatures were already advancing toward the main gates. At the front were short but heavily armored beings, resembling little knights clad in thick armor. Behind them stood humanoid figures nearly six feet tall, their faces obscured by hoods, revealing only glowing red eyes that matched their cloaks.

“Freaks,” commented Jacques. “It seems our enemies are using mutants.”

Bernard remained silent. As a high-ranking military officer, he possessed information others did not, but he had no intention of sharing it among the ranks. The last thing he wanted was to incite even greater panic. Even if they really were undead, as the marshal had claimed… they would simply put them to rest again.

Meanwhile, the enemies closed in, seemingly unaffected by the fire raining down from the windows or even the bombs. The armored knights displayed surprising resilience. Moreover, they were all protected by a powerful energy dome.

Despite his efforts, Bernard couldn’t spot the mage supporting the dome. Also, their own specialists had failed to restore the residence’s defensive systems. The heavy cannons embedded in the walls refused to operate, and the Villons had already lost the energy dome that had once shielded the building. Now, nothing stood between the attacking forces and the inside of the residence except the defenders themselves.

DING! BOOM!

As the attackers closed in, only a few feet away from the massive gates of the residence, they suddenly accelerated, closing the distance in just a couple of seconds. The knights crashed against the gates, causing them to shake and push open. Right behind them, figures in red cloaks surged inside.

But that was just the beginning. What the Villons had initially taken for flocks of ordinary birds soon revealed themselves as enemy weapons. Colorful little birds soared over the walls, showering the Villons with various spells. While the spells were not particularly strong, they nonetheless drained their shield limits.

Following the small birds were real monsters resembling pterodactyls — large enough to snatch fighters up with their claws and lift them into the sky. While the strength and endurance of the Villons allowed them to fend off such assaults without sustaining significant injuries from falls, it still bred chaos and confusion among their ranks.

Things took a turn for the worse when the first victims fell. The red creatures in cloaks had not appeared particularly threatening, even when it became clear that their hands were not hands at all but enormous, screaming bone saws. However, when Bernard glanced at Jacques — who was now screaming like a stuck pig — he froze in horror for a moment. The red monster loomed over Jacques, breaking through his shield with a single move, a feat that not even all archmages could achieve immediately. Jacques himself was already an eruptor, yet in the next moment, the vibrating saw-hand simply severed his head. Only Katharine could regenerate from something like that.

As if that were not enough, the red creature continued to tear apart what was once Jacques, reducing his body to a gruesome pile. Nearby fighters faced the same fate. “Red death,” Bernard thought for some reason, and a cold feeling of inevitable doom spread through his insides.

* * *

“Max, we almost have no material left for the reapers,” Alina complained to me a few days ago. “Maybe we should create more of the other chimeras?”

As usual, it was easiest to find materials for various monsters because the nuclei served as practically an endless source of raw material. As for undead and humanoid chimeras, it was more complicated. Crafting them from monsters was quite challenging, and you couldn’t stockpile that many dead enemies. So, choices had to be made.

But this time, I had a special plan for the rare human materials, and explained to Alina.

“Is that possible?” she asked, surprise evident in her voice.

“We’ll find out right now,” I replied calmly.

We dove into the work enthusiastically. For me, this was a new experience. I was finally going to test one of my theories: that a chimera could be powered not only by its own strength, but also by any suitable source of magical energy. The small gemstones we extracted from monsters were perfect for this task. After all, weren’t they responsible for the powers of the focus monsters? They were. So everything should go according to plan.

The significance of this experiment grew more pressing as we created more chimeras using our own powers. I still hadn’t regained even half of my former energy potential, which meant I continuously faced a lack of energy. Crafting high-cost magical chimeras was becoming increasingly difficult. With each new creation, I risked depleting my operational energy reserves to such an extent that I would be left with only enough to maintain essential spells — and even that wouldn’t last long. Thus, the experiment with gemstones could not only yield new, potent magical chimeras but also significantly alleviate my energy concerns.

“But the runes will also come in handy,” I explained to Alina, clarifying the essence of our work. “As you know, they determine which specific spell is woven into the chimera. In some cases, you can even ‘teach’ a chimera several spells.”

“And you will teach me to create exactly those?” Alina’s excitement was palpable.

“Definitely, but first, we need to focus on the most important thing.” The magic I planned to impart to our new chimeras was extremely energy-consuming but also highly effective. This spell was part of the Desmonds’ arsenal. My spies had once managed to steal its secret, and now, with that knowledge, I could apply the necessary rune to my chimera, even if I couldn’t wield the spell myself. That’s how magical gifts operate: even if you know how to weave another clan’s spell, your energy system won’t permit you to replicate it on your own. But there are various tricks — necromancers can use runes to transfer someone else’s abilities to their chimeras.

The spell I had in mind held devastating power with good reason. Its primary function was to quickly break through any, even the most robust, shields. It worked in conjunction with weapons for the Desmonds, but for our chimeras, the weapon was part of the body.

I initially planned to create specialized reapers and adorn their blades with runes. Then I had another idea that combined mechanics and magic — a secret stolen from the Steigers. This time, our new chimeras could boast real saws instead of hands. Ultimately, we created an entire squad of cardinals, as we decided to call them. This name became particularly fitting when we realized that, due to the corrupted gemstones, their eyes burned red. Alina suggested we continue the theme by dressing them in red cloaks.

Octavia sewed the cloaks quite quickly, and given her penchant for a gothic style, it was no surprise that she was inspired by the idea. The cloaks not only enhanced their impressive appearance but also boasted some protective properties.

When we conducted the first “piercing” tests, everyone involved was absolutely thrilled. Everything went off without a hitch. The only downside was that the small gems burned out after just one or two strikes, which highlighted what would happen to my supply if I decided to power them directly from myself.

We addressed this issue by increasing the “battery” capacity. Instead of using one gem, we inserted six at once. It had to be done this way; the risk of overload and explosion became too significant otherwise. Moreover, we had to utilize the larger gems for this purpose. Even with our mining efforts, we had far fewer of them compared to the smaller ones sourced from the jumpers and gliders. Nonetheless, the most important outcome was that each cardinal could potentially take down several archmages of the house of Villon, or at least greatly assist in their defeat. Their powerful shields had been one of our most formidable challenges, but now we had found a solution.

* * *

“The first floor is taken!” reported the defense coordinator to Katharine over the radio. The princess found herself torn over whether she should join the fray. She watched through the cameras, witnessing the unfolding chaos on the first floor, and the more she observed, the more horror gripped her. The Scourge of Antiquity — Max had earned that nickname for a reason, and now Katharine fully recalled why.

She hadn’t even seen him in battle; he was obviously waiting for her. Instead, he was invisibly present everywhere: in every deadly chimera, in each of his fighters whom he had taught to control those damn pets. Just think how quickly these scum — former leeches and cleansers — had figured out necromancy! Perhaps it would have been better to eradicate them at the root. The Villons, if they had tried harder, could surely have found another solution and salvation from an overdose of “grace.”

Katharine shook her head, trying to dispel the useless thoughts. Who better than her to know that they had already attempted many times but achieved nothing? And what could she do now, as a wave of enemies flooded her capital residence? She watched in horror as part of Richter’s chimeras unleashed one of the most terrifying spells of the Desmonds. Where did he find so much energy? When she encountered him, she had felt that it would take him a long time to regain his former strength. Yet here he was, proving her wrong. The monsters ruthlessly tore through her people. After the first wave of attackers came the second and then the third. There were too many grotesque creatures — all different. Max always approached the creation of his monsters with an unsettling creativity. Now, along with the red bastards with chainsaw arms, she saw dogs, ants, spiders, knights, raptors, small toothy blobs, cats — the list went on, and God knew what else lurked among them.

Meanwhile, the necromancers hardly exposed themselves. Max had taught them well how to control their pets from a distance.

That damned Richter!

Once upon a time, Katharine would have given anything to be Max’s ally, but now… now she hated him. His contemptuous phrase — that she had ‘backed the wrong horse’ — echoed in her mind more and more often. But where was he? Did he have the right to accuse her? What was the point of dwelling on it now when her empire was collapsing before her very eyes?

The necromancers had already managed to capture the second floor. Time was slipping away; it was evident that they would easily reach the last fourth floor, where she was currently holed up. But no. She would not allow him to destroy her! She had to remind herself that she was a thousand years more experienced than him, time that he had wasted. The priority was to survive, and then she would figure out a solution. In the worst case, she could find a way to approach Roland again. He was undoubtedly a scoundrel for leaving her alone in this situation, but what did that matter? She could forgive that if it meant utilizing Desmond for her own purposes. Roland was definitely stronger than Max! He had to be! Together, they would destroy him.

Yes, that was the plan she settled on. Katharine moved resolutely toward the staircase leading to the roof of the residence. There, hidden behind the castle’s turrets, stood her personal airship, ready for takeoff at any moment.

* * *

Katharine Villon was truly the queen of farce. Just think, she decided to take off again! While it didn’t surprise me, I had still hoped she might muster the courage to fight. Yet, around the midpoint of the assault, an airship that had been prepped in advance was already soaring from the roof of her fortress. She didn’t bother to hide her ability to traverse the skies above the sources of abomination, leaving the common folk to navigate the ground below.

That relentless boasting — how tiresome it was. I had noted this long ago and factored it into my plans. That’s why the largest pterodactyl had yet to join the battle, lying in wait nearby for the opportune moment to intervene. Now, it rushed forward to give chase. Surprisingly, the airship moved swiftly for such a bulky craft. Catching up instantly was not going to be simple. Katharine had evidently cranked the engines to full power and was making a hasty escape from the capital.

“Olga! After her!” I commanded my granddaughter. We had remained close by, anticipating just this scenario. She nodded immediately and leapt into the Lambo.

As for me, I gave Bucephalus’s mane a reassuring pat and climbed into the saddle. Yes, as preparations for war neared completion, I couldn’t resist indulging in a little mischief. Modern vehicles were impressive, no doubt, but nothing could compare to an eight-legged giant horse with fiery eyes and powerful hooves. When my students first saw me on him, they were thrilled. “You look like a horseman of the apocalypse!” they exclaimed in unison. “Just your appearance can make horses move!” That was precisely the reaction I was aiming for.

Now, as I watched the road clear before me, I knew I had made the right choice. Olga and I charged ahead, pursuing Katharine like a pair of relentless hunters. And the pterodactyl followed closely behind, chasing her away from the city — and toward her doom.

Chapter 21

“THEY’RE CHASING us!” Joseph Villon exclaimed fearfully, serving as the pilot and captain of the airship in which his princess attempted to flee the capital. With a small crew on the magically powered flying machine, he held the most responsible role, standing at the helm and controlling the flight.

“I can see that,” Katharine replied grimly. In this dire situation, she had taken her place in the cockpit to monitor both the flight and the surroundings. Besides the captain, only three others accompanied her: two mechanics responsible for the airship’s technical condition and one additional crew member who happened to be nearby and was tasked with fulfilling Katharine’s whims. The rest of her retinue had been left behind in the capital residence. Not that she completely disregarded her clan, but when it came to her own safety, Princess Villon tended to prioritize herself.

Despite her bravado, she didn’t truly believe she could die. Yet she had no doubt of Richter’s twisted imagination. Even if he couldn’t kill her, he would undoubtedly find some horrific way to control her. The very thought of it unsettled her, and she didn’t want to entertain the possibilities. What if he managed to finish her off after all? This was Max; he always accomplished the impossible.

Such thoughts chilled Katharine’s heart, and she pushed them away, but they chased after her like a monstrous pteranodon that he had plucked from his sleeve like a cursed joker. It served as proof that nothing could be taken for granted with him. Where did he even get these dinosaurs?

Katharine shuddered, recalling her encounter with a creature resembling a tyrannosaurus near the Grand Bazaar. It hadn’t been too difficult to deal with, but then again the great princess was no slouch herself. Still, that beast had enormous potential. Knowing that Max was capable of crafting chimeras that could wield magic, only God knew what secrets the flying machine pursuing them concealed.

Katharine preferred not to let the matter escalate into a close encounter in the air, a sentiment she voiced to the captain. “Speed up and maneuver. Don’t let the creature catch us.”

“Yes Ma’am!” he replied, nervously swallowing hard as he gripped the yoke with white-knuckled fingers.

The pterodactyl had no intention of falling behind, although at times, it seemed to deliberately slow down, as if it were toying with them in a game of cat and mouse. Just when the flying Villons exhaled in relief, believing they had escaped, it would surge forward once more. What’s more, a smaller flock of its kin followed closely behind. Individually, they weren’t particularly frightening, but their presence indicated that the necromancers were taking this seriously. How dare they think they could defeat her so easily?!

Katharine’s mood shifted from fear to rage in an instant, and now the manic phase returned. “Now I’ll show them!” she declared to the frightened pilot before leaving the cabin.

The airship was equipped with weapons and capable of firing back, but the Grand Duchess, like most powerful mages, held a disdainful view of inventions created by the ungifted. Even the most powerful cannons earned no respect from her unless they incorporated a touch of magic in their design. Magic elevated everything. And when enhanced by corruption, magic was even more potent. No matter what Max said, using it was the right decision. The only decision that mattered. She and Desmond were going to prove it to him when they finished him off again along with his pathetic clan.

With these thoughts, Katharine stepped into the special military section of the airship, where portholes had been installed to allow any mage to attack external targets. She quickly took advantage of this and shot down several pterodactyls with precise hits of pure energy orbs.

Yet, this was not what she truly desired. The main pterodactyl, surely controlled by Max himself, immediately recognized the new threat posed by her and soared higher into the sky, out of her reach. Katharine swore and, driven by anger, made a few more casts at random. She couldn’t see exactly where the pterodactyl was above them, but she was skilled enough in her magic to throw a projectile in a winding arc. However, her efforts yielded nothing. Frustrated by her miss, her anger only intensified. But she refused to give up; she knew that Max would give her another chance.

And she was right. A minute later, the pterodactyl descended again, speeding toward the airship as if intending to ram it. For a second, Katharine’s heart stopped. The monster was not much smaller than the flying machine, and who knew exactly what Max had imbued it with? In a panic, she raised her hands and began firing one projectile after another at the pterodactyl, but it evaded her attacks with surprising agility despite its size, which pushed the princess to a boiling point.

Ultimately, the creature managed to dive beneath the airship. Katharine squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for an impact, but nothing happened. Instead, the pterodactyl soared back up, as if mocking them. This dance continued several times, and eventually, Princess Villon began to relax slightly. Perhaps she would manage to escape Richter after all.

Having long left the capital behind, they were now flying over eternal foci. The materials the airship was made from allowed her to disregard the harmful influence of the abomination, confidently crossing the airspace over the poisoned lands. Just a little further, and she would break through to her own territories. Only the foci and a few small towns and villages separated her from Villon de Tour, the capital of her clan. From there, she would head to the island of Alveron, where she knew Roland would have no option but to strike a new agreement with her. Katharine had no doubts regarding her persuasive abilities. This was not an unfeeling hologram; when she backed Roland into a corner, he would yield to her wishes. It had happened before. Yes, that’s how it would be.

Katharine grew increasingly convinced that everything would work out, diligently dismissing the notion that the pterodactyl was still toying with her, waiting for something — or leading her somewhere. No, she told herself that part was over. They had already nearly passed the most treacherous area above the foci.

But, just as they approached the boundary of one of them, the pterodactyl charged again. This time, it saw its opportunity through to the end.

BANG! PFFF!

The massive beak of the pterodactyl broke through the energy dome shielding the airship with a single strike before puncturing the gas balloon that kept it aloft. The machine tilted with a wild screech and began to plummet.

“Damn it!” Katharine couldn’t hold back her emotions. She sprinted back to the cockpit, a difficult task on a rapidly descending vessel. But when she reached the pilot, she realized it was all over. He couldn’t stabilize the craft or pull it out of the free fall. They were falling — right into the damn focus!

* * *

One way or another, the capital — or, as it was now called, Richterberg — was surrounded by foci on all sides. So wherever Katharine chose to flee, I always had options on where to drop her. Predictably, she made a beeline for Villon de Tour, flying south toward our old fort. Everything was falling into place for me, and now she was going to fall right into where I wanted her — as close to my fortress as possible.

For my plan to succeed, however, I first needed to keep her entertained. I was putting on a show, pretending that my pterodactyl truly wanted to attack her airship, but each time something went awry. This charade undoubtedly looked suspicious, but I calculated that Katharine would have no time to analyze the situation as she rode the emotional rollercoaster of fear and aggression. She was terrified of me and had always been hot-tempered, a volatile mix. Admittedly, I had found her temperament appealing in bed, but that was a long time ago. The memories of her involvement in my clan’s destruction — or at the very least her silence regarding it — overshadowed everything we had once shared. Considering how well I knew her, I felt no pity at all. In a thousand years, nothing about her character had improved, and perhaps it had even deteriorated. To be honest, I hadn’t anticipated how easily she would abandon her clan to slaughter. It seemed she had successfully shed the last remnants of her conscience and humanity.

In any case, it was time to bring this to a close. Her endless attempts to escape were becoming tiresome. The pterodactyl and I were biding our time, waiting for the perfect moment. I had only one shot at a successful strike. If I didn’t seize it, there was a chance this coward would still manage to slip away.

The reality was that her airship was protected by a robust energy dome, much more powerful than those employed even by archmages. Consequently, simply hammering away at the situation would be futile. Thinking ahead, I had modified the beak of the pterodactyl just as I had done with the cardinals. However, for such a machine, the limitations had increased. Unlike the cardinals, which could break not one but several shields, the pterodactyl only had the opportunity for a single strike, enhanced by Desmond’s spell. Just one. Therefore, I went through the motions of intimidation and bluffing but refrained from taking any serious action until Katharine’s airship was precisely where I wanted it. Only then did I truly send it into the attack.

And it worked. Whirling through the air, the flying machine rushed toward the ground with inexorable force. Whoever emerged from it would no longer be Katharine. My faithful steed galloped toward the creature that the abomination would now create — perhaps the strongest of all that the world had ever seen. I was aware that, despite all her research, she had not succeeded in creating a substance robust enough to significantly delay the mutation. Given how powerful Katharine was, she would begin to mutate rapidly.

And so it happened.

BOOM! With a loud explosion, the airship met the ground while I was still some distance away. As I approached, I saw a chaotic pile of materials being heaped together, from which a real monster was emerging. There was no trace left of the dazzling beauty of the Great Princess. Instead, she resembled a hybrid of a gorilla and a yeti — an appearance that the abomination favored for mutated Villons.

It was highly likely that their princess had now become even deadlier. But at the same time, she could already be considered no longer of the living. I could have simply left her to roam the area like a wild animal, but even my enemies did not deserve such a fate. Therefore, I was determined to take up the fight.

As I jumped off my horse, I heard the screeching of brakes. I had almost forgotten that my granddaughter was involved in the chase with me, but her presence came in handy just in time.

“Stay back,” I shouted to her. “Only fight using the chimeras!”

“Of course,” Olga replied, focusing her energy. During the chase, she had only controlled a few pterodactyls, some of which had already fallen to Katharine’s attacks. But now she would gather what remained under her command at the old fort.

As for me, I was prepared to rely on my skills as a swordsman. Summoning the shadow blade, I stepped toward the being that had recently been Katharine Villon — one of the most powerful mages in the world. As if channeling all her hatred into this monstrous form, she lunged at me with the ferocity of a beast, and we became engulfed in a whirlwind of battle. Her reactions were nothing short of monstrous. For the first few minutes, I couldn’t even land a scratch on her, while she managed to break through my shield and slash me several times with her claws.

Had it not been for my regeneration abilities, the fight would have ended there. I held on, though the battle was not becoming any easier. On the contrary, the creature Katharine had morphed into fought more desperately with each passing moment.

A slight sense of relief arrived when Olga’s chimeras charged into the fray. Of course, the fort was down to either the weakest chimeras or newly hatched ants, but they did their best to distract Katharine. Their efforts were ineffective but provided me with a brief respite — a few seconds to comprehend and analyze what was happening.

I recalled how the monstrous princess Villon had fought against me before, and I aimed to learn her movements, to anticipate each strike. We had been battling for at least half an hour. I wasn’t far from exhausted, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to wear Katharine down — she would outlast me. So everything had to be resolved quickly.

I sought any opportunity to outsmart her and deliver a wound that might grant me an advantage. But Olga was also struggling to keep Katharine occupied. My granddaughter was diligently trying to maintain control over as many living chimeras as possible.

This was the right thing to do. We could not let Katharine destroy our entire support squad in one fell swoop. I continued to stubbornly advance, even at the risk of accumulating new wounds. They quickly tightened, but I was already drenched in blood, like some crazed butcher — which wasn’t too far from what I was. Anyone witnessing my reckless engagement with the monster would say I had gone mad. But there was no choice. I simply had to rid myself of her.

A swing. Another swing. A step to the side. A strike. A jump. Only clear, precise movements. Finally, luck smiled upon me, and I swung hard, severing her wrist. The monster howled and jerked for a moment. But in an instant, the severed part began to grow back.

No way! I wasn’t about to wait for her to regenerate; this could go on forever. So, taking advantage of her momentary pause, I slashed across the creature’s belly, causing it to bend in pain. Then I severed its head.

For anyone else, that would have signified the end, but not for Princess Villon. I kept hacking her into pieces, aware that the severed parts were drawn back together like magnets. If I hesitated, the monster would reassemble itself like some damn puzzle. “Olga!” I shouted to my granddaughter. “It’s time!” I hurled Katharine’s head into a pile of ants, and they eagerly pounced on it. They began to devour the other parts I was chopping up for them. The powerful soldier ants captured those pieces with their mandibles, while the smaller, hardworking “workers” nibbled them off, transporting bits into the depths of the anthill to feed the queen and larvae — now devoid of any hope for regeneration.

At some point, I lost track of time entirely. But in the end, all things reach a conclusion, and Katharine Villon met hers as befitted a mage who fell prey to the temptation of cheap and dirty energy. A sad but unavoidable outcome.

“Holy crap! Did we do it?!” I heard my granddaughter’s voice as she rushed to join me, eager to witness the moment with her own eyes.

“It looks like it,” I replied, keeping a watchful eye on some of the ants writhing as they struggled to digest Katharine. I knew I had to spend more time ensuring that she wouldn’t resurrect from some pitiful scrap of skin I might have missed. Fortunately, I had a decay spell ready for that eventuality, which I applied without delay.

“What now?” Olga asked again, her tone filled with uncertainty.

“What do you mean?” I smiled, a sense of satisfaction flooding through me. “It’s time to truly go back home. To Richterberg. The city that finally belongs to us again.”

Chapter 22

MY CITY GREETED ME with solemn silence. While pursuing Katharine, people and cars had hurriedly parted before Olga and me, trying to escape. Now, the capital appeared deserted. Both ordinary citizens and gifted preferred to hide away from the war and ride out the crisis. Everyone had grown accustomed to the usual clan wars, viewing them as temporary inconveniences that sometimes necessitated changing routes. More often than not, such adjustments weren’t even required because battles rarely involved clans capable of global destruction. All the inconveniences and damages were typically covered by insurance or reparations from the losing side. Large, powerful clans tended to conduct secret operations against one another rather than escalate their conflicts into open warfare. If a large clan had an issue with a smaller one, they either reached an agreement or simply wiped the smaller clan out in a matter of hours, eliminating the need for a global war.

What was occurring now between me and the Villons, however, was an entirely different story. It intrigued and frightened people simultaneously. Street fights, powerful spells, and magical creatures like my Dino. No one in the city knew they were chimeras, but what they witnessed was certainly unnerving. It felt as though the terrifying times of antiquity had returned — an era people had only read about in books or seen portrayed on TV. The city had frozen; everyone opted to wait for news in a safe place.

“That’s nothing,” Lifeng replied when I shared my thoughts with her. “You’re driving through streets where everything seems quiet. Here, the city looks almost normal. But on the approaches to the Grand Bazaar and other Villon properties, it’s like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie. Cars abandoned in the middle of the road, not a single living soul in sight.”

“My grandfather would have liked it,” I chuckled.

“Grandfather?” Lifeng asked, surprised.

“Never mind. Better give me a general summary of the results of the war,” I urged.

“In general, everyone is in complete shock. I still can’t believe you took down the Grand Duchess…” she paused, “…I mean, of course, I don’t doubt your strength, but it’s one thing to assume and another to see it with your own eyes. Thank you for sending me the picture. By the way, that Villon… the one named Louis, such a nice guy. I hope he won’t just live in the fort from now on, but will also make appearances in the city,” she finished with a laugh.

I felt slightly nervous, but I recognized that all my subordinates were stressed after the battle, and this manifested in various ways.

“Anything is possible,” I replied, though it had been sheer chance that Louis ended up in the frame. He, along with Maurice and most of the other scholars, remained in the fort. When I was finishing the recording for the hacker, I was doing so while escorting our insatiable ants back to the old fort. The scholars rushed to greet me, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Well… every Villon certainly sensed the loss of their duchess, not to mention that all their clan marks had simply disappeared. But it was difficult to grasp the impossible, especially something that had seemed so unchangeable for a thousand years.

Yet, the curious minds of the scholars immediately began generating myriad questions. Strangely, the first inquiries were not about Katharine or the Villon clan at all. Instead, everyone was captivated by the ants! They set about studying the properties of their toxins and other characteristics and our meeting began with a detailed interrogation about which specific ants had consumed parts of the duchess, what parts they had eaten, and so on. The scholars wanted to know every detail I could provide, and I congratulated myself on having captured Katharine’s inglorious death for Lifeng. The hacker could now send the video to the scholars, and they could learn everything they were interested in.

I was, of course, also curious about the future prospects of our small anthill. Just like the Villons, I assumed that such a high magical delicacy could not fail to alter their essence. They had already become powerful magical beings, even though they had significantly diminished in size when they ceased to be creatures of the focus. Their main feature of “deactivating magic” remained intact, and now they had the added advantage of a delicious food source. It wasn’t surprising that the scientists were eager to take them for analysis in the laboratory, fully aware that changes in their bodies would take some time to manifest.

However, as Louis explained, the ants themselves hardly benefited from this bounty; they received only crumbs. The majority of the nutrients went to the queen and the larvae. Consequently, we would need to wait for a couple or three new generations to hatch. Fortunately, insects reproduce quickly, so we wouldn’t have to languish in anticipation for long.

There were more pressing problems at hand — namely, the losses and gains from the war. When I finally reached the IT lab, Lifeng had already compiled the first report. The data was still preliminary, but the overall picture was starting to crystallize. The losses among the Villons amounted to a substantial eight hundred people, with most of them falling in battles throughout the city and, of course, during the final confrontation when Katharine abandoned them to the slaughter. More survived, approximately a thousand, but among them were almost no military personnel — only ordinary civilian Villons who lived in or had come to the capital and hadn’t even participated in the fighting. Some had not resisted at all, partly thanks to Blanche’s performance and the emergence of our scientists from the shadows. At that point, we could not yet determine how many Villons remained scattered around the world in other cities. For now, that information was of little consequence. The railway still wasn’t operational, and apart from possible airship owners, Richterberg could now only be entered and exited through the tunnel to Costa Sirena.

I wasn’t planning to open it for passenger transport just yet. In the future, I would need to come up with a way to compete with the Desmond railway. The established network had its advantages, but the potential for our own transportation solution could provide us with leverage. Perhaps once the situation stabilized, I could explore innovative ways to attract passengers and freight alike, ensuring that my clan had a significant stake in the city’s logistics and economy. It would take strategic planning and resources, but the prospect was worth contemplating.

* * *

“Well, what a thing...” Gwyneth Desmond remarked, watching as contracts signed by the Villons flared up and burned right in front of her eyes. The self-igniting documents could only signal two things: either the clan was officially disbanded, or their leader was dead. The news of Katharine’s probable demise was still difficult for many to comprehend.

But Gwyneth was unafraid. She was a Desmond, not a Villon. Dilemmas like this could affect any clan, and she was fully confident in her prince. Gwyneth was a young and lovely girl with big blue eyes and fluffy eyelashes, possessing far more beauty than talent. Nonetheless, she was no fool and knew how to leverage her strengths. That was why she found herself in her position on the city council of the capital — an official representative of the Desmond clan, which certainly sounded impressive. Of course, that was a title meant for ordinary people. All the gifted knew that positions in the bureaucratic apparatus were typically held by those who had been written off as promising mages. Still, there were worse places to be, and Gwyneth had quickly ascended nearly to the top.

“Just imagine how much space will be freed up!” Zigmund Steiger chimed in.

“Silly!” Gwyneth playfully called him, making eye contact with a flirty smile.

Zigmund was the most handsome of her colleagues, though he was shorter than her. The Steigers were not typically known for their height; their prince was like a mythical dwarf.

“Enough of the nonsense!” Basil Salazar rudely interrupted the conversation. “That’s not what we’re here for.” Neither he, nor the other two representatives of the Great Clans, were in the mood for jokes. Like him, Kanwar and Scipion wore serious expressions, their frowns deepening as their gazes fell on the empty spot at the table where the Villon representative should have been seated.

“Do you realize that the unimaginable has happened before our eyes?” Prabhu Kanwar added, supporting Salazar in gravity.

Gwyneth snorted at the conversation, feeling little surprise. Kanwars always had a tendency to complicate things. As her uncle often said, “You won’t find a single brave mage among all these monks. Just a bunch of cowards.” Gwyneth wholeheartedly agreed with him. The Desmonds had despised the Kanwars since time immemorial, and the Kanwars had learned to suppress their resentment if they wished to remain a Great Clan. Everyone knew the Desmonds held the strongest position on the council of the Greats.

“Inconceivable for the Desmonds,” Gwyneth declared proudly, “but for the Villons, it is quite natural. The Kanwars, though, should indeed be concerned.” As expected, Prabhu fell silent immediately in response to her comment. Yet there was a grain of truth to his earlier words — they all had much to discuss. Unfortunately, very few had a ready strategy for how to behave in this situation. Gwyneth, for her part, hadn’t yet been instructed on how to respond to difficult questions and would need to dodge them tactfully.

“Lady Gwyneth,” the mayor of the city, Theodor Kress, addressed her, “the trains have been delayed for too long. People are worried. When will the railway connection be restored between our capital and the rest of the world?”

Despite the overwhelming power and might of the magical clans, there was still a mayor in the capital. Mages generally preferred not to deal with the mundane affairs of commoners; it was boring, exhausting, and devoid of pleasure. So they left the management of such issues to the mayor. Theodor Kress was not gifted, but he had held his position for over fifteen years. He was a serious man with glasses and a calm, almost mesmerizing voice. Despite his age, he maintained a fit physique. Born into a simple family, he carried himself like an aristocrat — perfect posture, neatly styled hair tinged with gray, and a well-tailored suit.

But all that did little to earn him respect from the spoiled representatives of the Great Clans. Even now, Gwyneth spoke as if she were doing him a favor.

“What kind of questions are these? Do I look like a railway worker? Or a train driver?”

“No,” Theodore replied calmly, “but who, if not the official representative of the Desmond clan, should know what’s happening?”

“The situation is as tense as it can be,” Gwyneth maneuvered, avoiding a direct answer. “We need time to resolve all the issues.”

“Interesting… why didn’t André come after all?” Basil chimed in. “I didn’t think the Villons would give up so quickly.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Diana Scipion spoke up for the first time since the council had begun. “Their clan is practically non-existent. Can’t you see even the handwritten contracts burning? The same happened to all their seals, all their magical contracts, and so on. So what is André doing here? Who is he supposed to represent? That weird girl from the TV? What’s her name…”

“Blanche,” Zigmund assisted her, unable to forget the name of such a beautiful girl.

“Yes, right,” Diana yawned, clearly unimpressed. “And you, Basil, act as if you never went to school.”

She wanted to add something else, likely offensive, but she didn’t have time. The door swung open, revealing a tall blonde in an elegant dark green suit in the doorway. Following closely behind, panting, was the mayor’s secretary —- a short, plump brunette. Unlike most high-ranking officials, Theodor preferred to hire people based on their business acumen rather than their appearance. This resulted in people often laughing at him behind his back, but the mayor didn’t care.

His secretary seemed to have failed in her duties. The blond man paid no attention to her attempts to stop him or to convince him that he shouldn’t be here.

“Who are you?” Theodore asked, standing in surprise and squinting to get a better look at the newcomer. Had he seen this person before? No, it would have been hard to forget someone so striking. Theodore certainly wouldn’t have been able to forget such a vibrant presence.

Fortunately, the guest did not keep the suspense going very long. With a wide smile, he introduced himself. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am Maximilian Richter, your new suzerain.”

Theodor Kress raised an eyebrow in astonishment. Could it truly be him? It was remarkable how organically the medieval term “suzerain” rolled off his tongue.

* * *

“Please stop, there is a council meeting going on right now!” the secretary tried to intervene. But neither she nor the security guard — whom I had carefully incapacitated by draining some energy — could prevent me. I didn’t want to knock out the secretary; that would be impolite, and she might come in handy later.

“Great,” I replied to her, “then I’m just in time.” I knew all about these councils; they had been practiced during the heyday of the Richter Empire. Typically, they consisted of representatives from a single clan that controlled the city. Here, however, they had a semblance of democracy, with each Great Clan having a voice in the council. They were trying to divide up Richterberg.

It was too sweet a piece to give up on, and could create a serious advantage for any clan, so they governed it together.

As I entered the meeting room, I scanned the audience, quickly discerning who belonged to which clan. At the head of the table sat the mayor. Lifeng had shown me his photograph before I arrived. Introducing myself, I smiled as I observed the attendees’ expressions shift. Some became very serious, while others pursed their lips in disdain, clearly bewildered by what was happening. The representative of the Desmonds wore a particularly disgusted expression — it was apparent that the Desmonds had developed a habit of looking down on others over the past thousand years. I would correct that one of these days.

“Everyone is dismissed. I ask that only Theodor Kress stay.”

“What?!” Gwyneth snorted. “We are the official representatives of the Great Clans! How dare you order us around!”

“And I am the official killer of Katharine Villon,” I replied with a bright smile. “If you don’t want to follow her to the land of the ancestors, I recommend you heed my orders and accept that your work here is permanently over.”

“You?! But how?!” the same girl exclaimed, unable to contain her emotions.

“You can discuss that with your leader. But for now, please!” I gestured pointedly toward the open door.

No one attempted to argue with me any longer, though the advisors rose from their seats very slowly and reluctantly.

“Hurry up,” I urged them, “stop wasting my time.”

Glancing at me with discontent, they quickened their pace, and soon we were left alone with the mayor. Lifeng had already gathered information about him, so I knew that his authority essentially revolved around managing supplies. He was responsible for the efficiency of city services — utilities, education, healthcare. And even in this, his influence was likely limited, as it greatly overlapped with the interests of the Villons. All significant decisions were made by the advisors, who dictated the will of their clans.

Nonetheless, despite his limited powers, Theodor was evidently a sensible man. He had managed to maintain a balance between the clans and the ungifted, keeping the city in relative order. Services functioned as they should, and most issues were resolved promptly. There were flaws, of course, but I understood from my own experience how challenging it could be to oversee everything in a vast empire. Theodor was also constantly impeded by high-ranking advisors. I was sure he had to maneuver endlessly between the interests of all the Great Clans, trying to avoid ruining the city in the process.

“Sit down, Theodor,” I suggested as I took my seat.

The mayor clearly didn’t know how to behave; after asking me the first question, he seemed lost in thought. I brought him back to reality, and with a nod, he followed my advice.

“I understand,” he began cautiously, “that my days in this chair are also numbered?”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Why is that? Don’t you like it here?”

“I like it, but…”

I interrupted him with a gesture. “I have only one question for you, Theodor. Are you ready to continue serving the good of this city and the Richter clan honestly and diligently?”

“The city or the clan?” he asked.

I smiled at his question. It was clear that after years spent on the same council with the sharks who had alienated the city, only looking out for the welfare of their clans, he had learned to distinctly separate those interests.

“The Richter clan is deeply interested in the prosperity of Richterberg. As you may know, this is the historical name of the capital,” I explained.

He nodded, deep in thought. “So the city will now have only one... suzerain? And your interests align with the interests of the c... Richterberg?”

I nodded. He was a sharp lad. We might work well together.

“Exactly.”

“In that case, I agree,” he replied decisively.

“The right choice,” I smiled. “Now call the heads of all city departments here. We have our work cut out for us.”

Chapter 23

I DIDN’T HAVE TO WAIT LONG. Within half an hour, all the officials I was interested in were in the conference room, along with Linda Aster, who accompanied me. We settled around a large, long table. The mayor and I sat across from each other while the others took their seats on different sides.

The first thing I did was introduce my lawyer to the others. “From this moment on, instead of the clan council, you will work with her,” I explained. “In my absence, treat her words with the same seriousness as mine.”

I could see confusion ripple across the faces of those present. The finance representative, a gray-haired man with a frown, couldn’t help but comment, “How? She isn’t even gifted.” His name was Jason Anderson, and he was the only magister among them, not even from a clan; otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to hold a position in the bureaucratic apparatus. Such roles were typically filled by neutral individuals.

I replied, “I didn’t know that magical powers were a requirement to have a conversation with you.”

“They aren’t,” he stammered, “but usually…”

“Things are different now,” I interrupted sharply. “Remember that. It won’t be like it was before. But this is good news for the city. Because it will be better. So, I declare today’s meeting open and would first like to hear from the representative of the utilities.”

A stocky man with a small belly and bushy mustache spoke up. His name was Alessandro Ricci. He nodded in response and sighed before continuing, “I will be honest with you. My department has never particularly cared about the council of Great Clan representatives. Funding was allocated on a residual basis, but—” he straightened his posture, “I always did everything I could. My affairs are in order; everything is accounted for down to the last penny! There’s nothing to nitpick.”

I raised an eyebrow in surprise. It seemed this guy somehow thought I had called him to the carpet. “That’s great,” I replied to him, “but right now I am primarily interested in how quickly you plan to clear the consequences of the war. Have you already drafted a plan for the necessary work?”

“Yes, of course,” Alessandro responded immediately. “That is, the damage assessment is still in progress. But according to preliminary estimates, we will need at least two, if not three weeks, to restore the affected areas.”

“Isn’t that too much time?” I scoffed. We had certainly caused chaos at the Grand Bazaar and demolished the castle of the Villons, but overall, we had been careful in the city. I didn’t want to spoil potential future trophies.

“Not at all,” he said, unfazed, and began to explain passionately. “The entire center has been turned upside down! Roads are destroyed, communications are damaged; there’s debris and rubble everywhere. Moreover, there’s a very strong residual magical background from the combat spells. I won’t risk sending people there for at least two to three days. Even after that, they’ll need to work in protective suits and take long breaks.”

I thought for a moment. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to demonstrate that the dead could bring not just destruction but also benefit. Now that I had emerged from hiding, others needed to get used to the idea that necromancers existed. They had already accepted this in theory, but the reality of it had not yet been recognized. It would be better if those around me viewed the servants and pets not as something terrible, but as everyday and useful elements.

I suggested, “I will allocate, say, a hundred workers to you. And I expect you to revise your plan and complete it in at most a week.”

Alessandro shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s still not enough, Mr. Richter. The capital is large, and there is a lot of destruction. A hundred workers is a drop in the ocean…”

“A hundred workers, not people,” I corrected him. “The ones I will give you do not need rest, sleep, or food. They can work twenty-four hours a day without a break.”

“But how?” several people asked almost in unison. I had already grown accustomed to the reality that in this world, no one knew anything about necromancy.

“Because my workers are already dead,” I explained calmly. “My magic allows them to move around and handle various tasks.”

Alessandro swallowed hard. “Excuse me… but… isn’t that a bit strong? The residents won’t understand… the sight of corpses… the smell… can we really go through with that?” He looked around desperately at his colleagues for support.

I smiled. “Don’t worry. They will only look a bit pale compared to ordinary people, but there will be no signs of decay. And when you assess their productivity, you’ll never want to refuse helpers like them anymore. So, can you manage in a week?”

Alessandro still appeared stunned, as did everyone else, but they remained silent for now. The utility worker nervously adjusted his tie and replied, “Of course, I will do everything to have it done in time. But we still lack funding. Such massive destruction… it’s not just about the lack of hands.”

I nodded. “Naturally, I will reimburse the city for all expenses. From the Villon treasury. All I need is access to their accounts. As the victor in the war, I have every right to that. Isn’t that what happens after wars?” I inquired. “I thought it was a foregone conclusion.”

Alessandro stifled a laugh, and Jason did the same. The financier replied, “Indeed, that’s how it should be. Ideally. But, forgive my frankness, the clans love to grab trophies but are in no rush to pay their debts. Usually, the victors delay payments to the city until the last moment and use all the power of their legal departments to pay as little as possible. So most often, we have to get by on our own.”

I grunted, realizing that modern aristocrats had become quite petty if they were fretting over every penny and failing to uphold even the most basic agreements. “That’s sad to hear,” I replied, “but as I’ve mentioned, things won’t be the same as they once were anymore. I will personally oversee the compensation for damages following wars with other clans. And I assure you, I won’t drag my feet on this. Jason,” I turned to the financier, “I believe you can assist in getting the Villons’ accounts into my hands as soon as possible? The sooner this happens, the sooner I can arrange payment to the city.”

Anderson’s expression darkened, revealing some internal struggle. He was clearly hesitant to trust me, perhaps due to past unfortunate experiences. Like everyone else, he likely thought I was eager to quickly appropriate all of Katharine’s money. But he had no choice. Everyone in this room understood, fortunately, that I wielded a power that had to be reckoned with. So, they were interacting with me more out of fear than genuine desire to connect. Each of them feared losing their position. Considering all the rumors and videos that were circulating in the city following the war, they undoubtedly feared for their lives as well. Though I hadn’t threatened them at all up to that point. There was no reason to.

After hesitating a bit longer, Anderson reluctantly replied, “I will prepare all the necessary documentation for you. It will be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great,” I nodded. “Then let’s consider the repairs and cleanup issues resolved — almost…” I turned to Charlie Cooper, the law enforcement representative. Unlike the other officials, who were in suits, Charlie was in police uniform. He was the Chief of Police. There was nothing particularly unusual about him — just a curly-haired man of middle age with attentive brown eyes.

“I also expect a report from you tomorrow, Charlie. I need all the cases involving the most dangerous wanted criminals.”

“Excuse me?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

I repeated my request, but judging by his expression, he still didn’t grasp the situation and even dared to clarify, “May I ask why?”

“You may. I will personally take care of catching these criminals. Where do you think I’m supposed to get new workers for Alessandro? I wasn’t joking. The sooner they come to terms with these things, the easier it will be for us to work together in the future.”

“But… what about the court?” the shocked Charlie dared to ask again.

“Don’t worry. I will ensure that the innocent don’t get caught in the crossfire. As for the criminals, I think we should reinstate a couple of historical laws regarding the death penalty in Richterberg. I’m confident they will only benefit the city.”

The policeman composed himself and nodded in agreement. I caught myself thinking that I liked these officials. They seemed capable of adapting quickly to the new reality.

Next, I spoke with Maria Gonzalez, the only woman in this circle of officials and also the youngest. She seemed completely lost, as though she had stumbled into this meeting by accident. Bright and dark-skinned, with curvy features, wavy black hair, and a burning gaze, she was in charge of healthcare. Since nearly all local hospitals, clinics, pharmacies, and other medical centers belonged to the Villons or worked directly with them, it would now take considerable effort to restore the stable operation of most of these facilities. Only emergency services were currently functioning, and even those, on a voluntary basis. Yes, even among the Villons and their vassals, there were responsible people with a conscience. All contracts and agreements — everything — had become void with Katharine’s death. Fortunately, I knew what to do about it.

I directed Maria straight to Blanche, when she officially becomes the head of the Villon clan, of course. We discussed this transition as well. Since the old clan had essentially ceased to exist, we would need to register it anew, and it was important that this happened as soon as possible.

At the end of our conversation, the mayor raised one of the most pressing issues. “Mr. Richter,” he addressed me, “there are a lot of rumors circulating in the city, and I apologize if they have nothing to do with reality, but I simply need to know for sure. Is the current transportation collapse related to your war?”

I smiled. Theodor had expressed himself diplomatically, not directly accusing me of halting the trains. I saw no point in denying it, so I answered straightforwardly. “Yes, it is.”

“In that case,” he continued, “could you rectify the situation somehow? If you have blocked the railway lines, they need to be unblocked — at least some of them. The thing is, the capital… excuse me, Richterberg only supplies itself barely twenty percent of the food it needs. Of course, we have reserves, but they won’t last more than a week. After that… if nothing changes, the city will face hunger.” I nodded; I understood this perfectly well. Food was just one of the pressing problems, albeit the most serious. All sectors would suffer, something I could not allow to happen.

“A quick solution depends not only on me,” I admitted honestly, “but I will talk to Roland Desmond today.”

“Roland himself?” Maria gasped. “You know him?” She asked this so breathlessly, like she was talking about a deity. Which is, perhaps, what he was for her. Most likely, the local officials had never interacted with anyone from the upper echelons of the Great Clans, contenting themselves with the advice of representatives who dealt with the common issues.

At the same time, like other princes, Roland frequently appeared on television, in the news, and on the covers of magazines and newspapers, akin to a celebrity. Lifeng had even told me that each of the princes had their own fan club, where ordinary people followed their every move with rapt admiration. Oh, this wonderful new world.

“We’ve met,” I replied evasively to Maria.

With that, the first city council meeting under my leadership came to an end.

* * *

While I was managing administrative matters, Lifeng had already gained access to the communication equipment needed to contact the Council of Great Princes at the Villon residence. The first time I had barged in there had felt almost like an act of piracy, but now I had no need of those antics. I could easily reach out to any of my old friends simply by entering the hall. Unfortunately, we hadn’t yet relocated the equipment to a more comfortable setting, but Lifeng had configured it so that everyone knew who was calling them. It would be strange to use Katharine’s data for this, even though most had already sensed her death. However, there was no need to gather the entire Council just then, so I just called Roland.

Exactly one minute later, he appeared before me as a hologram, almost unchanged from how I remembered him. He hadn’t even altered his hairstyle; the same long black hair was carelessly tied back in a ponytail. He smiled. “Max. I never thought I would see you again.”

“You’ve buried me, right?” I smirked.

He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “You were gone for a thousand years. The treaties were terminated. The Richter clan ceased to exist. What else could I think?” He shrugged, showcasing his acting talent, which had developed during my absence. He must have taken lessons from Katharine. He clearly didn’t intend to admit that he had participated in the attempt to kill me and played a role in the destruction of my clan. I certainly didn’t buy into any notion of his innocence, especially since I had evidence directly implicating him. But there was no sense in confronting him with those accusations just yet.

“Well, my vacation is over, and I’m back. I’m reclaiming the lands that historically belong to me and my clan,” I replied.

“You could have done that without killing Kat,” he shook his head with feigned pity. “Weren’t you too cruel to her?”

I read him like an open book. Although Roland tried to maintain a carefree façade, I understood that all his questions had a singular objective: he was trying to gauge the situation, to grasp what I truly thought and knew. Naturally, he wanted to ascertain what to expect from me. His efforts would be in vain, though; I had no intention of revealing my cards.

“No,” I replied succinctly, “and I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

Desmond frowned in displeasure. “What’s the hurry? We have time. Why not tell me where you’ve been all this time? You were gone for so long, and now you’ve just dropped in like a bolt from the blue. You killed Katharine, whom you used to date... it’s all a bit strange,” he shook his head.

“You have a good memory,” I praised him with a smirk. “Who knows what happened back then? Besides, I’m sure Kat didn’t suffer long and probably found someone else. Maybe even you?” I didn’t say it outright, but the flicker of anger that ignited in Roland’s eyes told me he had caught my hint. Always the second choice. After me.

“Well, I see you’re not in the mood,” he suddenly turned serious. “Then let’s save the personal matters for later. For now, I’m listening. You didn’t contact me just to shoot the shit, I assume?”

I nodded and got straight to the point. “As you’ve probably noticed, your railway routes have encountered some insurmountable obstacles. Foci have suddenly emerged on each of the four routes to the capital. This happens all the time when the Great Princes decide to turn the world into a dump.”

Roland smirked. “Stop playing games, Max. I understand perfectly who it was that helped these foci settle in so cozily.”

“So you also understand that I can very easily assist them in occupying a much more convenient location for the restoration of railway communication.”

Roland exhaled and burst out laughing. “You know, Max, until this moment I wasn’t even completely sure you were real. But now… you’re still such a pain in the ass. And even in this situation, you act as if you’re doing me a favor.” He fell silent for a moment, pacing the hall he was in before cheerfully responding, “And you know what? I think I won’t rush. The trains on this route have long needed repairs. I don’t even know when we can resume service. But I’m sure you’ll come up with something, Max. Since you managed to take the city, you can solve its problems, too.”

“These are your people’s problems as well,” I pointed out. “There’s plenty of your property and representatives in Richterberg. Just the train station alone, for instance.”

Roland didn’t hesitate to answer. But perhaps for the first time in this conversation, he was being honest with me. “Believe me, it’s a small price to test your strength. The great Richter has returned. But has he lost his grip? Let’s see how you will rule a city that is on the brink of hunger and panic.”

Chapter 24

“DON’T MESS WITH ME, old man! I told you to hand over the coins!”

“I would be glad to,” Henrik Svensson replied, “but just a couple of hours before you arrived, I already gave all the cash to the Axe people.”

In actual fact, of course, Henrik would not be glad at all. He had seen all these thugs before, and he was far too young to be called an old man — a significant insult. However, arguing with armed goons was foolish, especially this one, who called himself “Madman” and was gifted to boot. Right now, he demonstrated his power by conjuring a small fireball in his palm, roughly the size of a tennis ball. He tossed it threateningly between his hands and growled, “What deal you have with the Axe is not my problem. Where you get the money is. From the cash register or the bank.”

“But how can—” Henrik attempted to reason with Madman. “Didn’t you offer me protection? Shouldn’t you deal with the Axe and get my money from him?”

Madman scratched his head thoughtfully, then spat and replied, “Listen. Don’t be a smartass. You have one minute to think. If I don’t see the money, I’ll either set your face on fire, or the shop. Or maybe both.” The bandit smirked, and Henrik sighed heavily. He didn’t want to lose his small shop. This little souvenir business had become a breath of fresh air for him in retirement. But if things continued like this, he would have no choice but to close down. His goods were unpopular as it was, and if the racketeers kept showing up twice a day, he wouldn’t have enough stock to appease everyone.

Henrik sighed sadly again. He never thought he would miss Cerberus. Just recently, when his organized crime group had dominated the city, there had at least been some semblance of order. True, he took a significant amount of money, but he actually drove away all the petty riff-raff if you paid him. Now, there was no talk of anything remotely resembling stability. New gangs sprang up like mushrooms after a rainstorm, sensing an opportunity to claim a piece of the pie. Sometimes they brawled among themselves, but more often they simply chose to ignore their competitors and terrorize unfortunate merchants. Worst of all, it seemed the city guards lacked the time to deal with the more gifted offenders. A purse stolen from some sorceress was pursued more diligently than murderers and robbers. This was especially puzzling since most of the criminals didn’t even attempt to conceal their identities.

Take, for example, this Madman; he brazenly demanded a transfer to his personal coin account without hiding at all. It seemed absurd — how hard could it be to find him with that information? But from experience, Henrik knew it was hard. Very hard. So, though it pained him, he reluctantly parted with another chunk of his money. Anything to get those animals out of his shop.

“That’s more like it!” Madman accepted the transfer with evident satisfaction. “See you next week.”

With a hearty chuckle, a gang of five burst out of the cramped shop and onto the street, where another dozen thugs were waiting for them. Nothing surprising, really. The gifted, even those who were quite weak, quickly attracted accomplices. Watching this unfold through the window, Henrik shook his head in dismay and was about to return to the latest episode of the TV show he had been interrupted from just as he had reached the most interesting part, when an unfamiliar van turned onto the street. It was too expensive and too new for the neighborhood. It stopped right by the gang, and a young, slender dark-haired man jumped out. After hesitating for a moment, he shouted, “Kira! What are you doing in there? They’re leaving now.”

“Now!” came a voice from the van’s cabin, and soon a beautiful girl appeared, clutching a stack of papers in her hands. By that time, the gang had moved further down the street, and the one called Kira nearly ran to catch up with them. “Wait!” she shouted. “I need to talk to you!”

Henrik nervously swallowed. Was she crazy? What if right now… who knew what this crowd of bastard thugs could do to a pretty girl! His hands instinctively reached for his phone. Maybe if he called the police, he could still prevent a crime! But nothing terrible had happened yet, so he continued to watch.

Madman and his gang halted, first exchanging surprised glances with Kira, before their expressions turned pleased. “What’s up, baby, want to have some fun?” came a taunting voice from their group.

“Yes,” she suddenly agreed, “but first I want to clarify something.”

“Anything for you, baby,” the leader grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. She pulled one of the papers from her stack, consulting it before asking, “You are Vasily Kostov, better known as Madman? The head of your own gang, numbering almost thirty people?”

“Wow, guess I’m popular,” he laughed. “Yes, babe. That’s me. Do you like bad boys? Are you a fan of mine?!”

Kira ignored his question, countering with another: “And everyone here are members of your gang?”

“Yes,” he confirmed proudly, “but not everyone is here. There are many more of us.”

“Great,” the girl nodded and turned to the man she arrived with. “Did you hear, Lev? Let’s start.”

“What do you mean by—” Madman began, but he didn’t have time to finish his question before Kira’s magical purple blade appeared in his chest from seemingly nowhere. In an instant, she was right next to the gangster.

Henrik wiped his glasses, not believing his eyes. But then something truly unimaginable began to happen. Before the bandits could react, several unknowns appeared from out of nowhere, swiftly cutting them down within minutes. Even those who tried to make a run for it found themselves pursued, no matter how far they managed to escape. Kira chased after them at Lev’s encouragement: “Sweetheart, just don’t mess up the material. Alina asked to be more careful. She needs the bodies in perfect condition.”

Kira snorted in response. “I know,” she said, and as she returned, added, “those girls are circling around you again! I told you I would talk to Alina myself!”

“Don’t start,” he waved her off, already loading the bodies into the van.

Henrik, observing them the entire time, wondered whether he should venture outside. He wasn’t a coward, but it was clear these were dangerous magicians. Look how easily they had taken down Madman. On the other hand, since they had bested him, it seemed they were on the side of justice? Or were they part of a rival gang? Curiosity ultimately got the better of him and Henrik cautiously made his way outside. Clearing his throat awkwardly to attract their attention, he asked, “Young people! What’s going on here?” He wasn’t afraid of being eliminated just for being a random witness. There was something about these mages that inspired trust. They didn’t appear to be street thugs at all.

Kira smiled at him warmly and replied, “Don’t worry. We’re just taking out the trash. Law-abiding citizens have nothing to fear.”

“Who are you?” Henrik inquired. “Are you with the police?”

“What? No!” the girl laughed. “We’re healers!”

“Uh-huh,” Lev grunted. “Healing the capital from all sorts of idiots.”

As Henrik processed this information, he watched as his new acquaintances quickly loaded all the bodies into the van and jumped into the cab. From inside, he heard Lev’s voice again: “So? Who’s next?”

* * *

Though my clan was still far from the size it once commanded in the distant past, it had grown sufficiently for me to free myself from routine tasks. For instance, instead of chasing thugs all over the city myself — as I had had to do right after waking up — I could now entrust this duty to my students. Several teams of phantoms roamed the city, capturing the fearless gangsters. There were so many of them that fulfilling my promise to Alessandro Ricci was no trouble at all. In fact, within a day, he had exactly a hundred workers under his management.

Of course, I couldn’t fully trust him with them just yet, so I assigned Ignatius to accompany him. His job was to train the other foremen to interact with the undead. Only after I was satisfied that everything was in order would I leave the undead work crew in their complete care. From what I knew, the training wasn’t progressing as quickly as I would have liked. The first day was largely spent getting them to overcome their fear of their new subordinates. However, things improved on the second day when the living began to appreciate some of the advantages the dead offered. I wasn’t overly concerned about it from the outset; I understood it would take time for people to acclimate to something new. They would quickly adapt to the benefits, though.

After all the turmoil of the war and its aftermath, I finally had a free hour to visit my favorite cafe and enjoy a delicious beverage. But I wasn’t able to finish my lunch as I received a call from Lifeng. “Arnie really wants to pass something on to you,” she stated directly. “I’ll connect you now.”

I had no objections. Right then, Arnold Zeppelt, the financial director of Purgatory, was busy collecting Villon funds at the main city bank. It had been quite some time since Arnie had attempted to double-cross me and Prokhor, and my mark had positively influenced his desire to work properly. Despite all his shortcomings, he had turned out to be a sensible person. He understood his field excellently; Prokhor was not wrong to heed his advice. For some time now, I had trusted him to handle matters beyond just Purgatory affairs.

“What happened?” I asked when he got in touch. “Did you gain access to the Villon accounts?”

“If only!” he replied indignantly. “Those Shitzers have completely lost their minds! When I arrived with the application, they dismissed me outright. They said there wasn’t even a war officially happening, so they couldn’t recognize us as the winning clan. And anyway, they questioned what proof I had that you killed Katharine Villon.”

“You provided them with our testimonies?” I clarified.

“Of course!” Arnie nearly shouted, his voice brimming with indignation. “I shoved everything we gathered during and after the war in their faces, but they didn’t even want to look!”

“Alright, I understand. I’ll be there soon.”

The connection was lost, and I downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp before rising from the table. No rest for the weary.

* * *

“Mr. Richter, you’ve misunderstood!” the charming brunette named Laima Schitzer explained. She was a bank clerk and was currently leading me straight to the bank’s director. As she spoke, she apologized and cautiously glanced at the two cardinals I had brought with me as an honor guard, which also served as a demonstration of my serious intentions. I had no intention of causing a massacre in the bank, but the presence of the cardinals positively influenced the tone and attitude of the local staff towards me. The same people who had nearly chased Arnie away like a stray dog were now behaving distinctly politely and even obsequiously. “The director will explain everything to you. Please, go in,” Laima said as she opened the door to his office. “I will arrange for drinks to be served. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee,” I replied, stepping inside and leaving the cardinals outside, instructing them not to let anyone in to avoid disturbances.

The director was a man who appeared to be in his forties, but he was likely well over two hundred. A mage, and already an executor. Upon noticing me, he stood up from behind his desk and introduced himself, extending his hand.

“Rudolf Schitzer, at your service.” I shook his outstretched hand, took a seat opposite him, and briefly reminded him of the purpose of my visit. He listened attentively, nodding.

“Of course, I understand your impatience. And no, we have no questions about who won the war with the Villons, even if it was undeclared. It’s just that the situation is completely non-standard, and my people didn’t orient themselves right away.”

“In that case, can I expect that we understand each other and that my clan will gain access to the accounts in the very near future?”

In response, he looked at me with a gaze that reflected all the sorrow of the world. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. If Katharine Villon were alive, it would be much easier. But as you know, after her death, all contracts and agreements associated with that name vanished into oblivion, and the Villon clan ceased to exist,” he threw up his hands.

“I don’t believe that a large organization like your bank has no ready protocol for such a case. This is not the first war during which a clan leader has died,” I replied.

Rudolf wasn’t fazed at all and quickly retorted, “But this is the first in which the Grand Duchess has died. You see, we work with all the Great Clans on individual rates and contracts. In this situation, everything is much more complicated.”

“So, what do you propose?” I decided to hear him out.

“Of course, we will pay you everything you are owed. However, before that, we’ll need to restore all the lost documents. We can do that.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked directly.

“No catches,” he lied bold-faced. “But I must warn you that this is not a quick matter. Most likely, we will need at least six months. Additionally… for our work and the preservation of your funds, we will take a commission. You’ll receive all the calculations within a few days.”

“I want to know the approximate percentage right now,” I demanded firmly.

For a moment, Rudolf was silent, studying me carefully. Eventually, he seemed to decide it was safer to respond. “I want to caution you that the final percentage may differ significantly from what I name now, but I think it will be no more than forty-eight percent.”

I almost burst out laughing right then and there. Forty-eight? Who did he think I was? Oh, these bankers. Over the ages, they’ve grown accustomed to profiting from anyone they perceive as less cunning and resourceful than themselves. They took me for a warrior who didn’t understand finances. Did I really look like a foolish landsknecht who blindly sold loot in a merchant’s shop? Naturally, I didn’t even consider accepting their predatory terms.

However, declaring war on them outright didn’t seem like a prudent decision either. The Shitzer clan had extended its financial web over a considerable portion of the planet, and capturing a single bank branch wouldn’t yield much. But I had an ace up my sleeve for just this situation. Let them deal with it.

About an hour later, I returned to Rudolf Shitzer’s office, this time accompanied by Jason Anderson. “As you can see,” I addressed him, “this esteemed citizen claims that it’s absolutely impossible to access the Villon accounts for at least six months. And the city treasury, as you know, needs generous contributions right now. Perhaps you two can come to an agreement?” I mentioned the urgency of the situation and settled in for a thrilling clash between the greedy banker and the equally greedy official. I called it the struggle of the toad and the viper.

To my surprise, a solution emerged quickly. Sensing potential profit, Anderson latched onto Rudolf like a bulldog. “You know,” he began in a conspiratorial tone, “land in Richterberg is increasing in value by leaps and bounds. The rental cost of the land on which your bank stands has also risen significantly. It’s climbing so much that I don’t even know how you’ll manage to pay it to the city,” he said, shaking his head in dismay as he delved into his calculations. As he spoke, I watched Rudolf grow paler with each word. I smiled, realizing that Jason was threatening to turn the capital branch of the Shitzer bank into a black hole — easier to close than to continue servicing. “I believe we understand each other?” he asked at the end.

Rudolf gritted his teeth and replied, “It won’t be possible in less than a week.”

I smiled again. “Well! That’s a completely different story!”

* * *

Finally, in the evening, as I sat at home enjoying a delicious dinner prepared by Fred, I thought that we had settled all the most urgent issues. Of course, the blockade of the city remained an extremely important concern, but with the funds from the Villons and other resources I’d acquired during the war, addressing it was just a matter of time.

Just as I was about to retreat to my room to read one of the magazines on modern science and technology that I had recently become fond of, a worried Olga appeared at the door. “Did something happen?” I asked, unable to hide my concern.

“Something happened!” my granddaughter replied. “Linda called — she’s at City Hall right now. The restoration work at the Grand Bazaar has been suspended. Thousands of people have taken to the streets in protest! They’re demanding that the zombies be sent to the cemetery and chanting that the dead do not belong among the living!”

Chapter 25

“ZOMBIES OUT OF OUR CITY!”

“We won’t let the dead take our jobs!”

“We won’t be turned into zombies!”

“No to the zombie apocalypse!”

The crowd chanted whatever came to mind, and indeed, several thousand people had gathered in the square near the city hall. While it was clear that most were confused, there were a few among them who knew exactly what they wanted. Though few, these activists emerged suddenly in various places. They unfurled posters they had brought, and were the first to start chants.

They spread horrifying news to those around them. “I was fired today and replaced by a zombie!” one of them shouted. “We have nothing to lose!”

“That’s nothing!” another echoed. “Soon they will turn us into zombies! My sister has a friend who works at City Hall; there’s a plan to make all residents undead!”

“Right!” shouted a third. “Either we defend our rights or we’ll get the knife like cattle at the slaughterhouse! It’s already impossible to leave the capital! Just wait and see!”

These activists garnered attention from everyone watching the events unfold. Among them was Alan Kowalski, overseeing the setup of the stage. Instead of a police crackdown — or as the provocateurs hoped, an appearance by “zombies” or chimeras — a massive stage, like those at large events, was being assembled in the cordoned-off area near the Grand Bazaar. The setup was being executed with the help of the undead. Yet, as expected, the crowd noticed nothing unusual about them, proving how little they actually understood about zombies.

Finally, when the stage, spotlights, sound, and other equipment were set up, Alan burst onto the platform like a whirlwind. He took his budding rock star persona seriously, having already changed into a flashy leather jacket and applied the necessary makeup for the performance. Following him onto the stage were Fred and the other undead band members. Without offering any explanations, they launched into a fiery heavy metal performance, captivating the crowd.

Taken by surprise, the crowd halted their chants. The catchy tune drowned out their demands and involuntarily made them nod their heads and even stomp their feet. However, around the middle of the song, the instigators realized they were losing control over the audience. “Shut it down! We won’t be appeased by a bread-and-circus! Shut it down!” they tried to chant. A portion of the crowd joined their call, but the sound engineer cranked up the volume, drowning out the shouts with the electrifying sounds of a guitar solo. Then Alan and the musicians struck dramatic poses, and Phil and Hans stepped onto the stage. You couldn’t miss them; all eyes in the crowd turned toward the platform.

“I know them!” a voice called from the audience. “These guys run a video blog!”

“Exactly!” confirmed another. “And they warned about zombies, but hardly anyone believed them!”

Meanwhile, Hans grabbed the microphone and announced loudly, “You just saw a performance by the band ‘The Eyeballs!’ The guys brought the heat, right?” Cheers erupted from the crowd. Some were caught up in the moment, yelling “Yes!” while others clung to their dissent, continuing to chant, “Shut it down!” But Hans ignored them, carrying on with his speech: “Did you know that four out of five members of this band are zombies?”

“Well, undead,” Phil corrected him with a knowing look. A wave of surprise and indignation surged through the crowd.

“We once thought that zombies were a threat to humanity. But now we see we were wrong!” exclaimed Hans.

“You’re right, brother,” Phil supported him. “And now the band ‘Candy’ will take the stage. You surely know these amazing girls! Give them a warm welcome!”

The Eyeballs exited the stage, paving the way for the girls from the star agency. These were the very ones Richter’s people had been closely monitoring, gathering information on those who exploited the “special services” of the agency representing young stars. Recently, it seemed the star agency had been keeping a low profile, especially after several high-profile clients had died under murky circumstances. Yet Lifeng continued to monitor the girls’ safety using small chimera keychains, making it practically impossible to miss a new threat that might emerge.

Candy were greeted with even more enthusiasm than the Eyeballs. The girls had become a well-known group, beloved by many. Their hits played on the radio, and their music videos circulated widely across social media. Most of those gathered began to dance and sing along almost involuntarily.

Meanwhile, the number of instigators dwindled, but not because they stopped being troublemakers or had left. No, what no one noticed was that invisible phantoms were operating in the crowd, silently taking out the loudest dissenters and discreetly pulling them from the masses like people who had overindulged. Everything was executed so cleanly that none of the ordinary spectators suspected a thing.

As Candy finished their performance, Phil and Hans returned to the stage. They spoke again about not fearing the dead and invited the next group to perform. The concert continued to gain momentum. With most of the instigators absent, the lulled audience grew less inclined to demonize necromancers or shout about anything. Many started to question why they had believed certain rumors without a single piece of evidence. At first, it seemed the world was spiraling into chaos, but upon reflection, there were scarier things out there. Take, for example, the creatures of the focus. They would definitely devour you without a second thought. Phil and Hans had just stated that zombies could also take on these focus creatures. Moreover, the undead were made only from the most deranged criminals, which ultimately benefited society! Gradually, the crowd’s sentiment began to shift in favor of the necromancers.

The climax of the performance was the appearance of Blanche Villon, in person! As the face of the Youth of Villon brand, Blanche had recently risen to extreme fame. Her status as a rare beauty attracted many admirers, including those found in the crowd that evening. They greeted her with genuine applause. Rather than singing, she stepped forward with a dazzling smile and delivered a brief speech about the benefits of the dead in various fields of activity. She emphasized that the undead could in no way replace living people but could instead ease their labor. Her bubbly and soothing voice worked on the crowd like a potent sedative, easing their tensions.

At the end of her speech, she invited Alan and his band The Eyeballs back to the stage, to an even warmer reception than at the beginning of the concert. Candy joined the stage as well, dancing alongside them. After playing a couple more songs, the musicians prepared to say their goodbyes, but the crowd wasn’t ready to let them go. Instead of shouts of “Get out!”, they chanted “Encore!”

* * *

There were more instigators than we had anticipated. The phantoms had to load several dozen people into vans. However, this was not their first time; they were now actively hunting city gangs. Typically, they eliminated criminals on the spot and brought their deceased bodies to the residence, but this was different. We needed the instigators alive. First of all, I intended to interrogate them, and second, their guilt wasn’t serious enough to warrant immediate execution. The situation hadn’t escalated into bloodshed or armed rebellion, so I planned to defer a final decision about their fate until after our conversations.

Interrogating everyone at once seemed pointless, and going through them one by one would take far too long. We chose a few of the loudest individuals and separated them into different rooms. It quickly became apparent that none of them were gifted, but they were connected to a certain clan — the Desmonds.

Breaking them down wasn’t easy; they initially feared their employers more than us. I had to explain that in this city, it was now easier for them to avoid the wrath of their employers than that of the Richters. I also reminded them what they were protesting against. As an exception, I proposed to them the prospect of a fruitful life after death. Eventually, the young men confessed to everything. They were then taken straight to the police station, where they would face prosecution for inciting riots.

* * *

“And I always said it was a very controversial and risky idea!” shouted Diego Velasco at the family council. This dark-skinned man with a mustache was one of the contenders for the position of clan leader after the old man, Alvaro, decided to retire.

Unsurprisingly, the old man’s favorite and official heiress, Bella, evoked no warm feelings in him. Now, like most other potential heirs, he barely concealed his satisfaction at Bella’s significant failure. She had basked in the rays of her previous successes for too long. But that couldn’t last forever. Many Velascos were exercising their wit, hoping to prick Isabella harder and sway old Alvaro’s opinion in their favor.

“This is not just a controversial idea,” Bella’s cousin, Maria, agreed with Diego. “It’s a thoughtless waste of money! Bella trusted some con artist, and now everyone will have to deal with the fallout. Our productions will collapse without grace, which means we’ll need to find a new supplier and pay him twice as much for urgency!”

“Richter is not a con artist,” Isabella retorted defiantly. “You should bite your tongue. After his defeat of the Villons, we should be grateful we are not his enemies.”

“Maybe so,” Maria replied, “or maybe you’re just a lovesick and naive fool who fell for all his promises and put the clan at risk!”

“My personal life is none of your business,” Bella shot back sharply. “Or are you so interested in it because you have none of your own?”

Despite the tension in the room, the spectators began to hide their smiles. Maria’s quarrelsome nature had earned her little affection from those present, and there was a general consensus that nature had skipped a generation when it came to her looks. In contrast, Isabella was a rare beauty, a fact recognized even by those who could not stand her.

“Enough!” barked Lucas Velasco, the second-in-command of the clan at that moment. A capable administrator, but unfortunately, a very weak mage due to a rare and incurable disease that had distorted his energy channels.

“They’ve turned this into a haymarket!” he continued. “You might as well pull each other’s hair! They’ve turned the Council into a circus!”

“So, what else is there to discuss?” Diego interjected again. “We shouldn’t be cleaning up Bella’s mess.”

“Exactly,” other voices chimed in agreement. But the most important person, old Alvaro, had remained silent, thoughtfully observing those around him. He had long been aware that the Velasco clan was not the friendliest, at least within the family. When facing an external enemy, they worked together like a well-oiled machine, but the hot blood of the clan kept them embroiled in scheming and intrigue against each other, as natural to them as breathing. So, it was only natural that they seized the opportunity to jab at the heiress while the issue of supplies hung in the air. The capital, along with all the factories they had contracts with, was blocked, and no one knew how or when this problem would be resolved.

Yet Alvaro still believed in his granddaughter. He had singled her out because he believed in her. If this was the same Richter… The head of the Velasco clan had lived long enough to hear whispers about the ancient secrets of the Great Clans.

After careful consideration, Alvaro finally delivered his verdict. “Indeed, it’s possible that we are facing this trouble because of Isabella, but the situation is still too uncertain to draw final conclusions. Bella,” he turned to his granddaughter, “you have a week to prove to everyone that they are wrong.”

He stood up from the table, preparing to leave and signaling to everyone that the council meeting was over, but Diego stopped him, asking, “What will happen if Isabella doesn’t manage?”

“Then she will lose her status as heiress,” Alvaro replied firmly before making his exit from the meeting room. Bella followed him out, ignoring the snickers behind her back. Never before had her fate hung by such a thin thread as it did now. But there was something within her that kept her from succumbing to despair.

This morning, just before the council, she had received a message from Max Richter. It contained no details, but it informed her that she was expected at a meeting in Costa Sirena that evening. She had no idea who exactly would be there, especially since leaving the capital was currently impossible. Yet, the message filled her with hope. Even in such a precarious situation, Max hadn’t forgotten about her. Together, they would surely find a solution.

After all, even before they signed the contract, he had promised her that he would ensure the supplies wouldn’t stop, no matter what happened. She had no doubt he was a man of his word.

* * *

“Max?! What are you doing here?” Isabella exclaimed, her surprise evident as she gracefully sat down at a table in one of the best cafes in Costa Sirena. She looked magnificent, as always. The short evening dress with thin straps perfectly hugged her figure, and the emerald necklace accentuated the unusual greenish tint of her hair.

I smiled and replied, “As you can see, the siege isn’t as insurmountable as everyone thinks.”

“I still don’t understand…” she began, her brow furrowing.

I laughed. “I thought you were starting to get used to it. Your reaction is as if we’re still in the Pyramid room, where you tried to kill me and were surprised that it didn’t work.”

“Well…” Isabella blushed. “Back then, there were different circumstances.”

“It’s okay,” I said, placing my palm on her hand. “Now you understand who I am, right? Katharine Villon couldn’t kill me either. So you definitely have nothing to worry about.”

Finally, she relaxed and laughed too. “To be honest, you’re right,” she replied. “I realized back then that you are not an ordinary mage, but now my self-esteem is completely safe.” She took a sip from her wine glass and became serious again. “My position in the clan, however, is under threat. No one believes that the supplies of grace from the capital will continue.” Having said this, she held my gaze for a long moment, her eyes filled with hope.

I wasn’t going to disappoint her. “In that case, they’ll have to be upset,” I said. “The supplies will be just fine. But I would like to temporarily change the terms of the deal.”

The relief on Isabella’s face shifted to cautious interest. “How exactly are we changing them?” she clarified.

“Instead of coins, I need food,” I stated directly. “As far as I know, the Velasco clan has a lot of fertile land, so I believe it won’t be difficult for you to organize supplies to Costa Sirena.”

Isabella frowned. “I’ll think of something, but how much food are we talking about? And this doesn’t mean that there will be less grace, right?”

“Not at all,” I assured her. “There will even be more. Trust me.” In the end, as long as I remained the sole individual capable of transporting the grace beyond the capital, other processing plants would have no choice but to sell it to me if they didn’t want to go bankrupt. I was counting on significantly increasing sales.

After we had discussed the details, Isabella finally relaxed and calmed down, and we enjoyed a pleasant evening together.

At home, another beautiful lady awaited me — Octavia. She had held back her emotions for a long time, but the patience of little Scipion had clearly worn thin, and now her indignation was bubbling over. “Max! How could you deceive me like this? I… I care so much about you… why didn’t you tell me you were the one? Why was I the last to know?”

“Well, you suspected,” I shrugged, “so you were not exactly last.”

“I suspected, of course, but I was waiting for you to tell me yourself!”

I stepped closer and hugged her shoulders gently. “Octavia, you are a smart girl. You understand why I was silent.”

She took a deep breath and pressed against me. “I understand…” she finally replied, “but… you hid the ancient magic of the Richters from me, too! I…”

I placed a finger to her lips to silence her. “Don’t say silly things. If you want to see authentic ancient Richter magic, then let’s go!”

Chapter 26

“HAVE I EVER CONCEALED this?”

“No, but… you didn’t confirm it either!” Octavia’s indignation was boundless.

To be honest, I was surprised at why Scipion clung to the idea of me being a gifted descendant for so long, refusing to accept the obvious. I decided it was a form of bias confirmation. The enchantress had dedicated significant time and effort to searching for artifacts and any information related to the Richters. The thought that she had overlooked the prince of the legendary clan simply didn’t compute for her; it contradicted her entire life experience. As the best specialist in her field, she had turned out to be the most steadfast in her own delusions. The storm of her frustration was short-lived. I managed to quickly shift her focus and pique her curiosity. Octavia loved mysteries — especially ancient ones, particularly those linked to the Richter family. When I promised to reveal one of them, the little witch instantly forgave me for everything.

However, as we approached the car, she squinted in discontent again upon encountering Olga and Blanche nearby. “I thought you wanted to share the secret only with me,” she reproached me.

“Believe me, there will be enough work for everyone,” I smirked.

This discontent was more feigned than genuine. The girls had grown close enough during our trip to Costa Sirena that they weren’t exactly friends, but they had learned to function as a team. The particular makeup of our group promised that the upcoming adventure would be interesting. This was without even mentioning the minibus filled with Villons from our laboratory and two armored vehicles with clan guards, commanded by Prokhor himself.

Our small but formidable convoy sped through the city streets. The drivers had become adept at recognizing the Richter coat of arms, and there were no eager souls willing to block our path. Only Olga understood the direction we were headed, and she appeared more surprised than anyone else.

We were not permitted to approach the site itself. This was understandable; we had left an artificially created focal point there ourselves. At the time, it had still been weak; I was just learning to wield abomination as a weapon. The crypt, where the bodies of the young Richters were concealed, was once again surrounded by a palisade, and security towers had been erected around the perimeter — now at a significantly greater distance. This was a good sign; it meant my strategy had worked, and no one dared venture inside.

However, the guards now included not only members of the hostile Kenneth clan, as they had last time, but also regular military personnel. When our column halted at the gate, two individuals immediately approached to confront us.

“This is a closed territory,” the mage with the Kenneth emblem on his uniform stated brusquely. “Please leave.”

Olga, standing next to me, twitched nervously, but I placed my hand on her shoulder. We could always fight them if necessary, but for now, I preferred to seek a peaceful resolution. I didn’t want to provoke the military, who were likely not involved at all. The mere fact that they were guarding this territory alongside the Kenneths didn’t prove their guilt; by law, they were obligated to monitor unpurified foci. So, I was in no rush to draw conclusions about them.

Instead, I replied to Kenneth, “This territory belongs to me, and I would be very grateful if you quietly and peacefully gathered your people and left.”

I didn’t truly believe that a polite request would work, but it was worth a try. At the same time, I handed the land deeds to the military captain, who had approached along with the Kenneth representative. He took the folder with an expression of surprise, studying its contents before commenting, equally puzzled, “It seems this man is telling the truth. The land does indeed belong to them.”

“Let me see,” Kenneth nearly snatched the papers from the captain’s hands, but upon reading them, he frowned and shoved them back, saying, “It doesn’t matter. As long as we are here, no one will cross this border.”

“Think carefully!” Olga finally couldn’t hold back. “Maybe news doesn’t reach you here, but we are the Richters, the new masters of the capital.” I smiled. Her eagerness was very endearing. Or maybe my granddaughter was simply looking for an opportunity to express herself that way.

“I don’t care who the Richters are,” Kenneth grinned. “I have an order from the Great Clan Desmond.”

I smirked in response. “Whether you care or not, you’ll have to get used to the new reality. If I were you, I would immediately contact your leadership if you don’t want to be the cause of a war between our clans. Let them know that Maximilian Richter is here.”

Kenneth snorted, clearly unaware of the latest news, and Olga’s words didn’t seem to impress him either. But after a couple of seconds of contemplation, he dialed someone’s number. As the conversation progressed, the expression on his face shifted rapidly until it grew extremely grave. Then all the color drained from his face.

“Yes, Sir Roland, of course, Sir Roland,” he stammered, “it seems they connected him to my sworn friend at the end.” He began to fidget, glanced at me, and carefully placed his phone on the hood of my chimera-mobile. Only then did he speak again: “Roland Desmond is on speaker phone. He said he wants to talk to you — but without any extra ears. One on one.” With that, Kenneth stepped back quickly, taking the soldier with him, clearly eager to distance himself from the situation.

Olga looked at me questioningly, and I instructed, “Wait for me with the Villons and Octavia.” She nodded, disappointment evident, and stepped aside. Turning my attention to the phone, I addressed Desmond directly. “You again?”

From the receiver, he replied, “I don’t understand, Max. Why are you escalating the situation? This territory belongs to our vassals. Why are you trying to break in there?”

I laughed, “Break in? Interesting choice of words, Roland. I haven’t even touched the Kenneths, although I have every right to. To put it in your terms, they invaded my territory and are using your name to block me from getting inside.”

“Dogshit. I don’t know where you found those papers, but you can throw them in the trash. And I strongly recommend that you leave this land,” he finished, his tone turning threatening.

“Or what?” I smiled back at him.

“You’ve barely even come back, and you already want war?” he replied with a question.

Roland was beginning to get on my nerves. I barely resisted the urge to burn his phone and just plunge further into the hearth. After all, it was unlikely anyone could stop me now.

“Roland, buddy, are you getting dumb in your old age?” I pretended to sigh. “What’s happening to your memory? First, you forget who these lands belong to, and then that Richterberg is blocked. How do you suppose a war would play out?” I laughed. “Of course, we could play a match against each other in a video game. Otherwise, I’m afraid you won’t be able to reach me.”

“The air is not blocked,” he hissed.

“Ah… you mean those flying machines you call airships? I must admit, I was impressed when I saw them for the first time. But I enjoyed shooting down Katharine’s airship over the focus even more. By the way…” I continued, “you didn’t see how she mutated and died, did you? I can send you the video.”

“Enough,” Roland snapped, his patience fraying.

But I pressed on. “Actually, I’m curious to see what kind of monster the Desmonds mutate into. What about you? The Villons look disgusting. It’s a pity that when you mutate yourself, you won’t care about that anymore.”

“Enough,” he repeated, his tone edgy. “There are plenty of Desmonds in the capital to deal with you.”

“Really?” I smirked. “Then I won’t try to dissuade you. Risk is a noble endeavor. Just know that you might lose not only this territory, which is already mine and I can prove it in court, but also all your train stations, the Pyramid, and all your other real estate in Richterberg. Do you have enough Desmonds to protect all of that? It’s not just about the losses, Roland. I believe your clan can survive this. It’s about the senselessness of it all. I will take everything you own in the capital, and in return, the most you’ll be able to do is send me angry messages on your phone. Are you ready to confront all that over a piece of land that isn’t even yours?”

A long silence hung in the air. It seemed Roland was pondering my words. I didn’t interfere; I let him think it over. In a regular situation, the Desmond clan would still be beyond our reach, and while Roland might not know this for certain, he certainly suspected it. But right now, he could only impotently click his tongue — he was close enough to elbow in, but unable to bite. I had little doubt he would make the right decision, especially after I mentioned the Pyramid. I knew the Desmonds took pride in that club; they considered it revolutionary and unique, so it was unlikely Roland would agree to part with it. “Fine,” he finally replied, his dissatisfaction evident. “Call the Kenneths, and I’ll call the guards back.”

“Good decision,” I cheerfully praised him. “But if you need help with your brain — particularly your memory — just say so. I now have a whole crowd of Villons at my disposal; they will definitely find a solution. I’m a sort of healer myself,” I laughed, gesturing toward those who had patiently awaited the end of our conversation.

“I conceded just now,” Roland said, the irritation in his voice palpable, “but rest assured, Max, I won’t forget this.” I chose to ignore that remark and simply waited for him to order the Kenneths to leave.

In the end, when the moment arrived, we waited just a couple of minutes, watching as the stunned wizards gathered their belongings to leave the area. The military had sufficient documentation from us and had no questions about our intention to venture deeper into the focus.

“Are we really not going to mutate?” Blanche asked anxiously before we crossed its border.

“Don’t worry, Princess,” Louis reassured her. “We’ve tested this drug extensively. Besides, we lived for many days in the old fort, and as you can see, we don’t look like mutants at all.”

Olga added mockingly, “Blanche, if you’re so scared, you could have stayed home. You don’t have to be here in person, you can get a report on what’s happening.”

“I’m not a coward,” the newly minted princess said proudly, raising her nose, “but healthy caution has never harmed anyone.”

“I don’t know…” Olga said skeptically.

Blanche, however, clearly took this more seriously than she should have, responding passionately, “If I stayed out of the war, it was only because it was necessary! I’m actually a top-class combat medic, and my skills can be very useful.”

“Relax, Blanche,” Olga replied amicably, to which Blanche only snorted indignantly. But Blanche was right — her skills had indeed proven useful on multiple occasions.

Although the focus we faced was artificial, it was classified as a delta, meaning it was potent enough to create significant challenges for any ordinary cleansing team. No one had found any volunteers to address it during this time. They might have been satisfied that fewer people would want to poke around there now.

For my team, though, clearing this focus wasn’t merely a training exercise or a practice in joint work tactics. It served as a reminder that even when the enemy appears much weaker, one should never neglect caution. Unfortunately, not everyone grasped this, so in the heat of battle, a couple of guards became too caught up in the fray and lost track of their own shields. That was when Blanche’s emergency assistance proved invaluable. She swiftly brought them back into formation without even touching them, which brought genuine delight to both the guards and their comrades. They couldn’t fathom how powerful Villon’s magic was, especially witnessing it from the other side of the front line.

This realization sparked ideas in my mind. On one hand, I could now equip Richter’s squads with battle healers like Blanche. On the other, I worried that this might make my necromancer students too reckless. It’s too easy to become accustomed to such potent insurance, leading them to expose themselves unnecessarily and engage in stupid behavior, believing they could be pulled from almost any mess with nearly any injury healed. Olga faced this same dilemma. She relied on me too much, making it a challenge to teach my granddaughter to be more cautious, as I wouldn’t always be around. However, I decided to set aside thoughts about the necessity of battle healers for later. Despite some injuries, we had effectively rolled over the focus, clearing it in about half an hour.

Now, we descended the long staircase to the enchanted gates of the crypt. I removed my own seal but didn’t let anyone in just yet. Instead, I turned to Octavia. “Do you see these runes?” She nodded. “This is the protective magic of the Richters. It has survived many centuries, but here,” I pointed at the runes of the enemy’s magic, “someone has cast another spell on top, using a completely different principle of action.”

“Do you want me to figure out how it works?” she asked, frowning.

“No,” I shook my head. “I already know how it works. Tell me, whose magic is this? I know that all Scipions can read foreign weavings, as you often have to bypass someone else’s protection for your own curses. This means you must be well-versed in how to do it.”

“Yes, that’s right...” Octavia replied thoughtfully. “So you can’t determine it yourself?”

I shrugged. “I have a couple of thoughts, but I have a feeling I’m missing something. So I need an expert’s opinion.”

Octavia finally relaxed and smiled. “I’m very pleased, Max, that you think so highly of my talents. I’ll try not to let you down.” She stepped closer to the runes and immersed herself in studying them. As the minutes passed, her expression grew more concentrated; she frowned, bit her lips, and strained to decipher the patterns.

“It’s strange, but I can’t determine it,” she finally said. “It’s definitely high-order magic. But I don’t see clear traces of any clan capable of pulling this off.” She threw her hands up in frustration and continued passionately, “I’m sure, Max, that it’s not because I lack competence. There aren’t many clans that can execute such complex rituals. Great Clans and maybe another fifteen or twenty weaker houses. I’m well acquainted with the magic of each of those houses.”

“Are you saying that none of them could be involved in this?” I asked seriously.

She shook her head. “It’s difficult… I think, yes. But this magic… it simultaneously resembles the magic of all the Great Clans and some others, but at the same time, it doesn’t resemble it at all. I can’t find an explanation for this yet. If you allow me, I would like to spend more time on this puzzle.”

“Of course,” I agreed, “but first, I need to show you something.”

Finally, we entered the crypt. By that time, Olga had grown very gloomy, so I put my arm around her shoulders. It was understandably hard for my granddaughter to face this family secret for the first time. As the others entered and took in the sight before them, they couldn’t contain their emotions, the predominant one being surprise. A barrage of questions about who these figures were and what had happened to them flew at me.

When I briefly answered them, Louis asked the most pressing question. “Max, if you allow me… I can’t understand why you brought us here. They are dead. Absolutely dead. As a mage of the Villon clan, I feel it with all my gift.”

I nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, that’s true. I can’t revive them, and you, although you are the best of healers, won’t manage, either. But our clans have never worked together before. What if the death magic of the Richters and the life magic of the Villons can still create a miracle?”

The next book of the series!

The Dark Healer (Book #8)

End of Book Seven

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by Boris Romanovsky

The Last Portal Jumper

A LitRPG Progression Fantasy Series

by Konstantin Zubov

Lord of The System

A LitRPG Progression Fantasy Series

by Alex Toxic & Furious Miki

The Strongest Student

A Portal Progression Action Fantasy Series

by Andrei Tkachev

A Shelter in Spacetime

A LitRPG Apocalypse Series

by Dmitry Dornichev

Law of the Jungle

A Wuxia Progression Fantasy Adventure Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

Condemned (Lord Valevsky: Last of the Line)

A Progression Fantasy LitRPG Series

by Vasily Mahanenko

Crossroads of Oblivion

A Portal Progression Fantasy Adventure Series

by Dem Mikhailov

The Goldenblood Heir

A Portal Progression Fantasy Series

by Boris Romanovsky

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About The Authors

Alex Toxic

Alex Toxic was born in 1978. He liked reading and playing video games from childhood. These two hobbies found ideal common ground when the LitRPG genre arrived.

Alex dreamed of becoming an author but the profession seemed just too complicated to him. So he began working first as a journalist, then as a TV anchor and then as a documentary filmmaker.

There came a point when Alex had run out of books he wanted to read. The authors simply couldn’t write new ones fast enough. The only way out was to write a book of his own. That’s how he launched into the passion that would with time become his primary profession.

Alex believes that the most important thing in a book is its main character. He or she has to be strong and unrelenting in the face of whatever challenge arises in their path, and they must always triumph.

Nadya Lee

Ever since she was a little girl, Nadya Lee knew exactly what she wanted to be: either a President, a singer, or an author.

The first option just didn’t work out for some reason :-)

The second option eventually became her hobby. Nadya still loves singing and does it at every opportunity, accompanying herself on a guitar.

Likewise, writing remained her hobby for quite a while. Nadya wrote poems, articles and even fanfics, keeping an occasional blog on various subjects including book reviews. Books and videogames have always been an important part of her life.

Then one day she just woke up in the morning and decided she’d procrastinated enough. Time to put pen to paper.

So here she is, hoping that her audience might enjoy reading her books just as much as she enjoyed writing them.