Snake Island, the sword, and the characters from a childhood fairy tale!

"Gone!" Maria exclaimed with vehemence at her instructor, as she hastened away from the shoreline, "Ugh! You sly serpent!"

In response, Koneko maintained her composure, addressing her companion with a certain detachment, "I never doubted that our stratagem would fail to elicit a response from him, and that he would remain veiled." Thereafter, as if oblivious to any occurrence, she commenced the process of drying herself with a towel, unperturbed by the fact that, with a mere wish, each individual on the seashore could magically dispel the salt and moisture. Nonetheless, they chose to indulge in the tactile pleasure of cotton and plush towels, thereby embracing these minor pleasures without reservation.

"When I attain immortality, he will not evade me," Maria declared, her hands on her hips as she stamped her foot on the sand.

I would like to remind you, my dear, that despite all he has taught you about the art of magic, you have yet to attain the exalted rank of Archmage. At present, you are a Master in the realms of mental, astral, and sensory sorcery. However, do not despair; within the next 150 years, there is a possibility for your advancement to the pinnacle of Archimage in both astral and sensory magic, which will effectively grant you immortality, Koneko reassured her companion, bringing her back to the present moment.

"And why was I not as fortunate as you, born with the foundation of an eighth layer?" Maria asked, her voice tinged with disappointment, her head lowered in sorrow.

Koneko, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, responded, "Svyatozar truly delights in my soft fur, elegant ears, and graceful tail. I truly miss his tender caresses." She watched eagerly for Maria's reaction to her playful challenge. "What else could one expect from a cat?"

Maria retorted, "But my breasts are larger!" as she held Koneko in her hands, lifting them slightly to emphasize the weight of her advantage over Koneko.

"Our beloved is a man of wide-ranging intellect and exquisite taste, a connoisseur of beauty in its myriad forms," said Koneko, placing her hands on her shoulders and tracing the contours of her slender form with a gentle caress. With a graceful movement, she extended her leg and arched her back like a feline, her cat-like nature evident in every gesture. Her long red tail, which quivered with excitement, and her pointed ears atop her head served as testament to her feline heritage.

"You!" Maria exclaimed, leaping towards her friend, catching her off guard and knocking her down to the sand. The two girls began to wrestle playfully, their laughter filling the air. Eventually, their playful tussle transformed into a tender embrace, neither of them objecting to this unexpected turn of events.

They had acquired a taste for such partnerships under Svyatozar's tutelage. They frequently engaged in these activities to alleviate their sexual tension, for they understood that Svyatozar did not object to their amusements and viewed them as a source of joy.

When it first occurred between them, Maria, already 27, found it increasingly difficult to maintain her composure and resist the feelings that threatened to overwhelm her. As Koneko, with her feline nature, is well-known for her behavior in March, there is little need to discuss her.

*******

A man-made reservoir in the form of a circular basin, which I had constructed specifically for my serpents, was situated in a secluded clearing. The diameter of the reservoir was 100 feet, and its depth was 10 ft.

I approached the clearing with my reservoir, stowed my garments in a dimensional pocket, and then with a lengthy and high leap, I soared into the heart of the clearing. Emerging from the water, I had already transformed into a basilisk. After a brief moment of cooling off, I hastened to greet my serpents, as they must have already sensed the arrival of their elder counterpart and creator-master.

Until lunchtime I remained with my young companions. Indeed, companions, for I came to this planet as a basilisk. They were full of talk about our encounter. They told me that they knew Maria and Koneko, who they believed to be my daughters, and then began to boast about their achievements.

I had almost raised them according to the ritual with which I was born rather than according to the usual one. I simply omitted the part of the procedure that gives the egg its own soul, without removing it from the wheel of Sansara.

Thus, my beauties also possessed the gene for transformation as well as the recognized magical lineage of the toads who laid the eggs that later gave rise to them.

Throughout this process, they discovered a remarkable ability to transform their tongues into a form resembling that of a toad. In this state, the tongue was no longer forked and featured a venomous fang measuring half a meter in length. They could launch this tongue with a velocity of up to 10 meters, only slightly slower than the speed of a bullet. The power of such a strike was sufficient to effortlessly cut through the trunk of a tree measuring 1.5 meters.

Now, their preference shifted to crouching by freshwater ponds, where they would ambush and strike seagulls in flight. However, their capacity for transformation did not stop there. They could rapidly develop powerful limbs capable of propelling them up to 60 meters into the air. Although the landing was somewhat painful, it provided immense satisfaction. Diving off cliffs into the water became a favorite activity, evoking vivid images in my mind, particularly of a joyous snake leaping gracefully into the depths from a rocky ledge. One could imagine the poor onlooker's hair turning grey after witnessing such a spectacle, prompting them to flee as far and as quickly as possible without looking back.

And if only that was the extent of their achievements! They went on to make a further revelation that truly astonished me. These two representatives of the most rational and lethargic species succeeded in convincing Koneko to instruct them in the art of transforming into werewolves.

And, of course, there was a problem! Koneko possessed a unique talent in this regard; unlike others, she already had the ability to assume the forms of all three hypostases. However, their ardour and extraordinary perseverance persisted in their initially futile attempts to achieve humanity. After all, they did possess the means of metamorphosis!

The creatures in question merely destroyed my original concept and evolved into a new form — dragonoids. It is evident that they lacked wings, but they possessed enormous paws and a facial structure reminiscent of a human skull adorned with bone crests. Standing on their hind limbs, they measured a staggering sixteen meters in height.

Their gait on two limbs was clumsy, making them appear awkward. Yet, their agility on four limbs was hardly inferior to their performance in their previous basilisk form. Moreover, they displayed a remarkable confidence akin to chimpanzees, confident in their ability to leap with remarkable agility and utilize their paws with dexterity. As a result of their progress, Maria had already begun teaching them the basics of reading and writing.

The sheer size of these creatures, akin to five-story structures, must have been comical as they hunched over the diminutive girl, attentively listening to her instructions and attempting to correctly articulate the letters of the alphabet with a makeshift writing implement crafted from a sturdy tree branch in the sand.

When the young ladies were introduced to their daughters, they became quite animated and attempted to impart to them not only the skills of writing and reading, but also the mysteries of magic. They imparted as much knowledge as they could! Now, these two charming young girls reign supreme over the local aquatic ecosystem, sending shivers down the spines of those in the vicinity of my island. There is nothing that can stop them as they navigate the depths of the ocean, having mastered the art of breathing underwater, albeit in the guise of aquatic predators. Their hind legs have been replaced by flippers, while their front legs sport thick webbing. Even their tail has undergone a transformation, becoming flat and slightly humpbacked.

When I was informed that they had discovered an ancient ruin not far from our island, emanating a potent aura of enchantment, I was increasingly astonished by their discovery. Indeed, the site was not far indeed, as I estimated it to be at least 1,600 kilometers from my island upon receiving their mental communication with the precise itinerary and travel time at their speed.

While they declined to visit, they shared the details of the location with me. Upon reviewing their accounts, I was unable to discern the race of the former inhabitants. The basilisks shunned approaching the structures, sensing a barrier. These wary serpents were unwilling to risk discovering the potential peril on their own.

I took a mental note of the location's GPS coordinates and resolved to investigate these remnants later. The coordinates placed them precisely at the geographical centre of the Bermuda Triangle.

Utilizing basilisks' senses can be challenging, as they are limited by their capacity. My spectrum and range of awareness, however, are considerably broader, allowing me to delve deeper into their memories. Nonetheless, it was evident that this was an unprecedented discovery. The intricate magical weave that enveloped the buildings and their surroundings made it clear that this metropolis was the creation of the fae.

Rather than entering the city, the basilisks surveyed its surroundings. The plateau upon which the structures rested appeared to have materialized on Earth in its pristine state, having been transported from another realm.

Nonetheless, I had to suppress my curiosity, as I had other engagements that did not include a visit to this unmapped city. After all, I was due to depart for the citadel tomorrow, and from there I would commence my journey eastward, leaving my Russian homeland behind. Thus, it would become visible.

They enlightened me on the activities of the females during the past century of my absence from the island. Maria, skilled in the fields of chimerology and floristry, decided to enhance my island. As a result, a substantial grove of Snake Trees has now sprouted at the southern end of the island, which she refers to as the manifestation of her obscure brilliance.

This phytochimera resembles the snake-like head of a Gorgon jellyfish, with branches that appear to be actual snakes from a distance. However, upon closer inspection, one can discern that they are merely branches with bark resembling snake skin. Approaching a specific tree, however, can have adverse effects on an individual.

Maria utilized a dragon willow as the basis for her creation and added the basilisk gett. The poisonous thorns adorning the tips of each branch of this tree can pierce a knight's armor in the hands of an adult.. The tree itself has attained a height exceeding six hundred feet, with numerous branches resembling one another.

With these trees now intertwined, basilisk urine is deposited there daily. The excreta of my snakes are of immense benefit to the growth and maturation of new plant life. Moreover, they frequently deposit blood and venom into unique receptacles crafted specifically for the trees by Maria, which then contribute to the development of fresh flora.

According to Maria's calculations, a tree of this kind will continue to grow until its fifty-first year. However, its sap already possesses a natural defense against any snake poison at this stage in its development. The venom of a king snake stands as a notable exception, as in this case, tree poison is only slightly less potent than that of a basilisk.

My mistress's vision called for a web of these exquisite plants to encircle the island. The trees were highly aggressive, fireproof, and resistant to magical manipulation, making them difficult to approach. Only a parselmouth could get close to one.

The trees did not need to be told anything, for they could sense good people and thus neutralize their aggression. Their branches grew by a third of their length, were incredibly swift and agile, and bent at odd angles. No intruder could pass between them, even if they were twenty meters apart. Despite their young age, the trees stood ten meters tall. They seemed capable of bending upwards from the ground. A rampaging tree was an incredibly strange and dangerous sight!

I granted them permission to be there, as I had no objection to this type of flora. But who am I trying to fool? No one questioned me, nor did they show any interest in my opinion.

The girls regard themselves as full-fledged proprietresses of this island, having become accustomed to the idea that they belong to me, or I belong to them; it makes no difference. Even in my former life, I came to realise that once a woman begins to think of a man as hers, she soon starts looking around her home for his belongings, as it is likely to be filled with objects that belong to her chosen one or have been put away "in place". One simply has to accept this and not worry about it, so I did not concern myself with such matters.

The main issue is that they do not have access to my dwelling, which is situated in the heart of the island, containing both my workshop and the chamber for potion-making.

Having witnessed the magical feats of my chosen few, I bestowed upon them my benediction for their continued development, and proceeded to the Citadel, pledging my return.

*******

Greetings, Adair! In accordance with my promise, I bring to you advancements in forging techniques and the secrets of goblin steel. As the master smith of this realm, I trust that you will find these innovations invaluable.

Descending to the courtyard of a forge, I observed Ader directing his apprentices through an intense regimen of labor. Witold was present, informing me that Iolanta and Marcus would remain in England for an additional week. How they maintain their vitality remains a mystery to me, for their appearance was akin to that of those in the throes of death.

Greetings, my lord! The expertise of the Goblin master smiths will prove invaluable to us. I myself began my apprenticeship with a human master, eagerly absorbing the knowledge of forging. During my time as a goblin slave, I was only shown a fraction of the process involved in steelmaking; they withheld from me the secrets of tempering, forging, and hammering. Their fear was that someone might uncover their hidden techniques.

It is thanks to the wartime surrender of the goblins and the binding treaty that I was spared from my fate. The treaty mandated their release of all slaves and prohibited them from causing harm. Had it not been for these circumstances, I likely would have met an untimely end in the cauldron during a typical celebration.

Indeed, I have never heard of any prisoner escaping from an ogre's lair.

There is no need to delve into this matter further, for I can discern that the subject is causing you discomfort. How shall I impart my knowledge unto you? Shall I infuse it directly into your mind, or shall I intertwine it with something else to form an object? The latter approach may prove more challenging for you, as you will need time to assimilate the new information.

Indeed, the former option was preferable for me, as it entailed less effort and yielded more significant results.

"Let us commence with the first option," he suggested, becoming more receptive to my ideas. I did not test his comprehension. I have reached a stage in my mentalist development where, upon making mental contact with an unfamiliar mind, I am able to ascertain whether that individual is receptive based on their true nature. Moreover, if any lingering questions or concerns persist, I can delve deeply into their personality within my memory.

Having established a mental connection with Adair, I gradually imbued his mind with the knowledge of blacksmithing that I had acquired from Gringotts. Furthermore, I assisted him in consolidating these abilities and integrating them seamlessly into his instinctual responses, allowing him to claim them as his own.

Naturally, there would be an initial delay in recalling and applying this information, but with sufficient practice, he would surmount this obstacle and elevate his proficiency to the level of instinctual reflexes. How are you faring? Have you begun to sense the impact of your newly acquired comprehension?

Upon regaining consciousness 30 minutes later and opening his eyes, I inquired of Adair. During this period of thirty minutes, his memories and the motor skills of his physical body were becoming increasingly intertwined.

Indeed, my lord, there are certain instances that defy my ability to fully comprehend them, as they seem to exist outside of my personal timeline, creating a sense of dissonance. However, the information they convey is unmistakable and clear. The anvil and the forge are calling out to me, begging me to set them to work.

I humbly request that you, my lord, remain at the citadel for an additional month, during which time I shall forge a weapon worthy of you. The task may require a mere couple of pints of your blood, perhaps a single pint of venom, and I assure you, it shall not disappoint. The flames of creative madness already dance in the eyes of the smith.

Six weeks? I am willing to wait, for I have all the time in the world. Indeed, I find myself curious to witness the creation of this masterful craftsman.. I could now perceive how his gift as a blacksmith began to blaze like the sun, transforming from a faint shadow into a celestial object that overshadowed all other aspects of his personality with its radiance. At this point, nothing else could be discerned, for I had acquired the ability to perceive souls and discern the shadows of gifts within them, even without recourse to any special rituals.

As a result, all the resources of his soul were now focused solely on him and his fully unlocked gift. In such a state, he could forge a truly legendary blade. Indeed, he had been able to perceive my true nature without even being consciously aware of it. Moreover, he remained unaware of my dual identity as both a third basilisk and naga.

"Produce, Adair!" I exclaimed. "I shall await the fruits of your labor."

He departed as soon as I concluded my speech, taking with him the vials containing my blood and a poison that I had stored in my pocket. It seemed as if he was about to commence the process of loading the blast furnaces in the foundry, where the raw materials for goblin steel were processed, when he hastened towards that location. He now possessed my blood and poison, yet I remained unconcerned. His actions were futile, for I was protected by the oaths sworn by my vassals and the knights of the order. Even if a mere touch of my blood fell upon another person, my senses would immediately detect any malicious intent towards me, severing the connection.

The planning for my activities this month was relatively straightforward. Having relocated to my secluded retreat in the Alps, I began erecting barriers. In the event of a journey to the eastern lands, it would undoubtedly be prudent to be well-equipped with both weapons and high-quality armor. After all, my assumption was that the wizards in those lands would at least be on par with my own abilities.

Furthermore, unlike in a video game, where one has the advantage of multiple lives and auto-saves, I inhabit the realm of reality. Therefore, the ideal scenario would be to possess both artificial protection and my own flesh, which would be impervious to both magical and physical harm. It is clearly preferable to sustain damage to one's armor rather than one's body, which, if damaged, can be repaired later. This is not the case with one's skin!

The oxymoronic nature of my armour is remarkable. I have finally forged it from the shedding remains of my most recent molt, fortifying it with the formidable scales of a dragon from the Malorussian Iron-belly. My fangs serve as rigid ribs, providing structural support to the back and chest of this armor.

Moreover, the versatility of having multiple forms is invaluable. While in my human guise, my serpentine body, currently undergoing its molt, coexists peacefully in the realm of subspace. During this period, I merely experience a slight discomfort for a few days, as I maintain my human form. Upon transformation into my basilisk form, my crawling and serpentine bodies emerge alongside me. It is a delightful sensation to feel the primal emotions of molting within the basilisk body. Like a feline in the springtime, I instinctively seek relief from the itching sensation by rubbing against sharp edges and angles. However, while a cat may find joy in this behavior, I, as a basilisk, find myself in a state of rage and displeasure.

I was still able to wield magic, for the majority of my armour was constructed from components of my own being. All accomplished wizards, from the mightiest masters onwards, abhor the use of tools and equipment not of their own creation. This is not merely a matter of a lack of complete trust, but rather a consequence of the fact that these items retain a portion of the enchantment imbued by their creators, leading to interference in the form of alterations in the energy of the wizard who forged them.

This presents a challenge in delicately controlling energies, requiring significant mental exertion to balance their effects. Moreover, the deity who imbued them with their power can effortlessly disable their artifacts at critical moments or recall them, rendering them even less dependable than other artifacts of human origin.

Like a diving suit, my armor completely encased me, leaving no exposed flesh. There was nothing to prevent me from perceiving the outside world, for the space where my eyes would have been was enchanted to be transparent from the inside.

My own discarded hide served as the subject for my spellcasting, which fitted snugly upon it. I invoked Naga and employed vampire thaumaturgical runes. The effects of these two distinct magical tongues blended harmoniously, enhancing one another.

The armor possessed the ability to levitate, provide invisibility (though not quite akin to the Veil of Morena's, it functioned effectively), automatically adjusting its size, climate control enchantments ensuring oxygen supply, maintaining a comfortable temperature and maintaining purity within, shielding against magic, augmenting the inherent resistance of the hide tenfold, and imbuing it with increased durability.. I was able to drift for a while within the confines of my armour, for when I descended and drew near to the surface, it immediately activated, decelerating me to a safe velocity.

Thus, I completed my task in time to be presented with the sword Adair had promised me. More leisurely days in the Alps followed, during which I spent my time lounging atop one of the summits, savouring various concoctions I had concocted myself, crafted from exotic fruits, exquisite spirits, and ice harvested from the Alpine glaciers. Afterwards, I returned to the citadel.

Upon my return to the Order, Witold, having assumed the role of leader in my absence, greeted me. Together with Olaf, he had been engaged in discussions regarding the training program for aspiring young witches. During my month-long absence, no urgent matters arose, and the operations of the Order proceeded smoothly. However, on occasion, the Order participated in missions aimed at eradicating harmful creatures and plants, collaborating with the Inquisition, the Order of the Creator, and other magical guilds, often involving individuals from the most ancient and esteemed families.

Generally speaking, life within the Order proceeded according to a well-defined schedule, presenting daily tasks that were both challenging and rewarding. New arrivals were welcomed into the world, with one newborn after another filling the nursery. The older children were educated by their elders, learning the ways of the craft from their teachers and mentors. In the forge, tools and weapons were crafted with precision, while in the tannery, leather armour, harnesses, and other components were sewn with skill.

There was a textile factory that produced fabrics, and alchemical elixirs and potions were concocted in the laboratory. Artefacts were created, and there were numerous workshops that contributed to the overall harmony of the place. In short, it was an idyllic existence.

It is not without reason that my rite successfully purged all witches of the first generation, and it continues to do so with new initiates and reasonable newborn witches who do not require it. From a genetic perspective, they have a predisposition towards their kin. There is no possibility of conflict within their vast family, as they cannot deliberately act against their brothers and sisters. They are bound by strong ties, both through their shared bloodline, the rites of initiation into the Order, and the spiritual obligations of brotherhood imposed upon them. Such an individual is prepared to face any assault and adversity head-on, creating a utopian vision that spares me the burden of overseeing thousands of naturally born killing machines trained to fight and destroy.

I encountered Adair following a brief conversation with Vold. He had resided in his dwelling for three days, appearing to be in a state of slumber. As soon as he commenced crafting my sword, his perception of time and space vanished, and he did not cease until the day prior. Following the final polishing and honing of the blade, he succumbed to slumber within the forge.

Upon my arrival at his abode, I was greeted by a petite yet striking witch-maiden, taller than Adair. In my enchanted vision, their connection indicated that she was his spouse. She returned from the chamber, having successfully awoken him.

Almighty Lord, accept this as the pinnacle of my craftsmanship! Only the pommel of the sword, concealed within his grasp, was visible to me. Adair's countenance was disheveled, marred by numerous wrinkles, and his appearance was haggard. He had expended an immense amount of his own energy in forging the weapon.

I took the package from his hands and unwrapped it to reveal a blade of reddish steel, blackened from edge to core. The weapon was a double-edged Carolingian sword measuring 85 centimeters in length. It resembled a traditional Viking sword, which was well-known for their craftsmanship.

As soon as I grasped the hilt, I felt a connection with the sword. It reminded me of the sensation I experienced when Georgi's and the anti-demon chains merged. I felt a sense of belonging.

This is a unique spiritual artifact that was forged from my blood and my poison, essentially my magical essence. Adair's influence did not leave even the slightest imprint on it. The creation process involved the Sumerian art of artifact creation and the power of blood goblin runes. The result of merging two distinct enchantment schools was both intriguing and impressive. Upon our connection, I gained knowledge of all its powers.

The blade could seamlessly integrate into my aura, allowing me to summon it at will, materializing in my hand whenever I desired. My capacity to siphon strength from my adversary grew stronger as I inflicted greater damage upon them, opening additional pathways through which I could extract their vitality. Only legendary objects crafted from divine metals possessed the ability to harm the blade, rendering it truly extraordinary.

"You have brought me immense joy, Ader," I exclaimed. "A blade such as this, but for my brother-in-law, another commission awaits you. Here are my poison and his blood."

Having been deeply indebted to Alfonso for his numerous acts of assistance, I sought to provide him with a gift during my final days of leisurely indulgence. I requested three liters of his blood for the purpose of crafting the gift, assuring him that its significance would become apparent in the coming months. My unique mental and informational imprint had been completely erased from the poison, rendering it devoid of my personal touch while maintaining its lethal potency.

Well, my lord, as you wish. Once I have had some rest, I will begin working. I am quite fatigued from the exertion.

Upon further consideration, I have also come to the following decision:

You know, I was contemplating providing each witch who has achieved the status of master with their own unique weapon of choice for combat. More poison for you.

From the spatial pocket, I extracted a second vial with a longer interior, containing approximately forty litres of my venom. After all, I have been distilling my poison on a weekly basis for centuries, and it has not been in vain. I employed a small portion of my strategically stocked lethal poison. I already possess enough poison to utterly devastate the ecosystem of any inland sea. If I were to release it all into the water, it would take a full month for the entire area to die.

After that, I won't be capable of accomplishing anything else for approximately a year. That is the amount of time it would take for me to provide each master with such a weapon.

Notwithstanding his words, he appeared to be thrilled at the prospect. After all, genuine artists aspire to create masterpieces, rather than engaging in repetitive and tedious tasks to meet the demands of the public.

That is quite alright, I am certain. However, with your assistance, you will significantly enhance the overall combat effectiveness of the Order, providing the masters with greater opportunities to evade harm unscathed.

Nonetheless, it is challenging for me to envision a threat to my lieges who have already achieved the status of Master.

"Excellent, my lord. Shall we dine now? Salma, my wife, has prepared a delectable goulash. It would be a criminal offense not to partake."

Upon hearing Adair's words, Salma felt a pang of embarrassment and hastened to the kitchen, eager to serve the dishes and goulash her husband cherished.

"If you insist, I shall be delighted to share this meal with you. It is the least I can offer in return for your generous gift of the sword!"

I spoke with sincerity to Adair and his creation, acknowledging the significance of inviting one's suzerain — who also holds the position of Master in the order one belongs to — into one's home and offering them a seat at one's table.

Adair, his wife, and I enjoyed a delightful dinner, and upon bidding farewell, I departed their abode, heading towards Karelia.

For a prolonged period, my material projections had been traversing Russia, encountering along the way a multitude of anomalies of mystical origin. The majority of these were concealed estates belonging to various princes and prominent magical clans residing within Russian territory, safeguarded by easily discernible magical shields. Yet there were also peculiar sites whose nature eluded my projections' perception. Lake Ladoga constituted the first such site in Eastern Europe.

This location proved to be replete with extraordinary occurrences. The island of Valaam, for instance, was revered akin to St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. Its aura seemed to radiate grace in all directions for miles.

The most intriguing location was a small island in the middle of the lake, invisible to the locals. It was perfectly circular, with a diameter of 500 meters, barely overgrown with grass and devoid of bushes or trees.

What the grass could not hide was the fact that the entire island was a vast ritual circle covered in hundreds of thousands of Vedic runes, of which I was familiar with only a hundredth part.

Instead of walking onto the island, I stood 100 meters offshore. My clones were present on the island, intently examining each image and symbol that made up the ritual circle. I absorbed all the information from them as I stood on the water, connected to their minds. They used magic to examine every square millimeter of the island visually and magically.

I deduced that the ceremony was intended to be covert, based on initial insights from deciphered runes, a sense of the ritual's mysticism, and my own instinct. However, the identity of the entity seeking concealment remained a mystery. Nevertheless, I did not have much time to deliberate over this decision. From behind my right shoulder, I heard a voice ask, "Warrior, who are you?" I was about to respond, "Achilles, son of Peleus!" My mind was in turmoil. The speaker's tone reminded me strongly of Brad Pitt's vocal performance as the character who confronts Achilles in "Troy." Nonetheless, I managed to regain my composure. Turning around, I answered, "Svytozar Zmiev."

I congratulated myself. My intuition had been correct, and who would have thought my assumptions would be validated so soon after setting foot in Russian territory and poking my inquisitive nose into the first mysterious anomaly that caught my interest.

A towering figure, standing at a height of three meters, confronted me. He resembled the image of Uncle Chernomor that I had conjured up in my mind when I first read "Ruslan and Ludmila" as a child. I thought, "Yes, Pushkin, you are right!"

Uncle Chernomor was adorned with a massive Byzantine shield, sword, and spear. Behind him stood thirty-three other towering warriors, all clad in similar armor. However, it was not their sheer numbers or imposing stature that left me feeling uneasy.

Every one of Chernomor's warriors was an Archimage, and he himself was a High Mage. I was helpless, unable to move or act, even if I had wanted to escape. All I could do was hope that death would be swift and painless.

If they were speaking to me, perhaps it would not be so terrible, despite my panic.