CHAPTER TWO: IT'S NOT THAT SIMPLE

Entering the testing ground, I got into the zone of "Local Armageddon." Constantly emerging anthropomorphic robots with different weapons tried to destroy a single target, which was constantly in motion, moving incredibly fast. But they did not succeed; the average life expectancy of each robot was from three to five seconds. Sanych simply did not give them a chance to survive, traveling at high speeds throughout the entire space of the testing grounds.

Behind his back there were three pairs of energy wings, at the base of which were movable metal elements attached to the back, which, seemingly, formed the shell of the wings. He used the lower pair as moving shields, taking on them those shots that he did not have time to dodge. The middle pair, as far as I understood, had a set of shunting nozzles at the base, and the wings themselves served as stabilizers.

The upper pair seemed to be responsible for gravity, allowing Sanych to soar ten centimeters above the ground, and when the enemy was getting too close, he also used them as a weapon, chopping the enemy with a light stroke of the wing. Being fully armed, he had now two short-barreled submachine guns with a large rectangular block instead of the forearm, and the frame butt when folded completely retracted into special grooves on the sides of the receiver, allowing him to use weapons in the manner of a pistol with automatic fire mode.

Shooting speed was also impressive. Roughly judging, it was clearly above a thousand rounds per minute. And the moment that the lines periodically changed color - it could be assumed that there were several types of ammunition, and they were not all firearms, but of a different energy profile.

On one of the maneuvers, when Sanych was with his back facing me for almost a second, I managed to notice the "Seraphim Punishment" fixed between the moving elements of the wings. You see, Sanych is a Scurfifer himself, I supposed so because he had such a kit! So, why the hell did he kick me out back then? I already wanted to take a step out of a half-meter safe zone near the door and tell him everything I thought about him, but at the last moment I stopped myself from this foolish idea.

Yes, in this area I cannot be seen and cannot be heard - a special one-sided barrier protects guests from accidental injuries at the site. But if I leave the zone, at least I can talk to Sanych, but, most likely, only for a few seconds. If he doesn't shoot me, simply just like he shoots robots, then in a couple of seconds, these robots will chop me up into small pieces, taking me as an additional goal.

I had to sit down on this patch and just watch Sanych, waiting until he finished the training cycle. Picking up my right leg and sitting on the side, I began to watch this old man destroy a huge number of opponents, without stopping for a second. Ten minutes later I still could not take my eyes off him.

He seemed to be dancing to some kind of music that was heard only by him, changing the position of his body in up to one millimeter adjusted poses with each movement, moving away from the multitude of bullets that were constantly aimed at him. Trying to start recording this training, in order to calmly analyze his movements, I regretfully looked at the leaping inscription.

Attention! The recording function is not available at this training ground!

"Fucking shit!" I grunted to myself.

I had to hope only that my memory would not fail me, carefully watching every movement of Sanych's training. So he crouched, throwing his left leg to the side and spreading his arms to the sides, cutting off opponents in bursts on the sides, the next moment he made a quarter of a circle with his left foot, transferred all his body weight to it, almost took a long step, remaining at the same level above the ground . After that, he straightened up sharply and, making a complete rotation around his axis, spread the upper pair of wings, and practically, by inertia, he initiated the energy wave, which scattered, and in some places even chopped the enemy.

All these three movements were completed by him in just a second. My brain could watch and analyze him for a couple of minutes, and then, to my shame, I got confused by his movements - so quickly he moved from one position to another, without ever repeating. Although forty minutes later, during which I could not take my eyes off this deadly beauty, I began to notice single, repetitive movements, the ligaments were already different, but here certain transitions and poses clearly began to repeat sometimes. It seems that he still does not dance, but uses some kind of movement system for fighting in critical conditions. Our military equipment is just childish pranks compared to this.

I had to watch a constant battle for almost an hour when I noticed repetitions and patterns. And this is with my important experience in short skirmishes, which drag on for a maximum of five minutes. Well, even in heavy half-hour battles, I doubt that anyone will notice the system in motion. As a result, almost an hour and a half later, the opponents ended, and all his equipment was showered with nanites on the floor. Sanych just walked away to the wall and sat down beside it, leaning his back, and then his eyes closed. Well, it's time for me to move closer. Coming out of the safe zone, I calmly walked towards the old man. To be honest, it was scary to approach him, my knees were trembling.

Now he has nothing of the long-range weapons, but being close he can deal with me very quickly. But busting myself, I approached him and sat down side by side. I did not doubt that he knows that I am near. After all, even when I had just left the safe zone, his eyelids fluttered, showing that he had noticed me. We sat in silence for about five minutes. Sanych rested, and I looked at the ceiling. No matter how crazy this may sound, our silence was extremely eloquent and fully reflected our attitude towards the latest events.

"So, you will not ask questions?" Sanych started the conversation first.

"What for?" I shrugged my shoulders. "The last time, as you may remember, I did not even have time to ask a question, when I got bumped my head into the wall by you. By the way, I still do not understand why. So it's better to just shut up for me, maybe I will be able to get on well with one hard-nosed old whimper, who began to have seizures of dementia."

"Aren't you afraid that I'll just send you to the replication capsule?"

"You know, after what I've seen for the past hour and a half, I'm sure that if you wanted, you would have sent me to the graveyard long ago."

"Look, you have become really clever, my lad!"

"Well, I raised my mind percentage a bit!" I even raised my index finger, focusing on this attention.

"Wow, you are growing up, and how much is he now with you?"

"Already two units!" I proudly puffed out my chest.

I nevertheless achieved what I wanted - Sanych twisted on the floor laughing. As psychologists said, when we were taught: "A person who laughs, in most cases, will not kill you." It's true, only if it is not a psychopath. After a good laugh and again taking up a sitting position, he again turned to me, wiping away the tears that had come out of laughter.

"Now I really believe that you have nothing to do with it!"

"Um ... nothing to do with what?"

"You see," he hesitated, choosing words, "there's such a thing ... When you took out that rifle, I thought that the security men had sent you for me. That flared up a little."

"So, you are, in your old age, already a looney?"

"No, no, no! I'm still far from being nuts! And what would you think having the facts that I am one of several sensible people who have information about Scurfifer? And then you showed up with this rifle. And this happened after you spoke with Stepanenko. And this asshole is already forty years trying to get information from me about Scurfifer."

"I do not understand what Internal Security has to do with this profession?"

"Oh, my lad, believe me, you do not need this all!"

"Wait, why is it not necessary for me to know?" I already got up a bit, turning to Sanych. "I've been living here for a long time without a profession, I'm doing here insane things, I've got a lot of problems because of them, I almost completely quarreled with you, and now you just say that I don't need it?" I was completely shocked by the words of Sanych.

"Well, because you can get out five from this rifle, well, a maximum of seven percent of its capabilities! How much damage is there now? Around one hundred or two?! You should understand, " Seraphim Punishment" being used appropriately can simultaneously give out about five thousand points of damage! With such damage, not only the Sweepers, but even the Silver Guard, in lucky circumstances, can be destroyed with one shot. And you will be content with these several hundred."

"Um ... why?"

"Everything is just simple," Sanych sighed, and, sitting more comfortably, began telling me. "Scurfifer is one of the professions that does not give a bonus to the speed of development of skills or unique skills that are loaded onto piconites from the server database. All the power of this profession lies in two moments; actually, the equipment of one of three classes and the status of being a neutral player. There are also disadvantages of this profession, because without having the "soul" of any of the three classes, all the rest of the equipment cannot work even at ten percent of its capacities. And the last "soul" in my eyes was destroyed six hundred years ago. It is no use telling you the rest of the story. So you can take your rifle, go up with it to the tenth level and sell it to a collector for a big amount at auction there, it's not good for anything else, though. And it's no use taking a profession only because of this," he sadly finished, planning, it seems, to put an end to the discussion of this issue.

But I had completely different plans, now the main thing is to select the right questions. If everything is really as I understood it, then I will have something to surprise this old man with. I used to be a little clingy to calling him an old man, considering that he himself is quite old. But in the view of the fact that Sanych is more than six hundred years old, I only have to call him grandfather or maybe a great-grandfather? No, probably, even great-great ... Damn it, but how many times "great"? Okay, I'll get back to this issue later, now it is the time for something else.

"Sanych, please answer only two questions, and then I will leave you alone."

"Okay, ask your questions and we will change the topic, and never come back to it, if you do not want to have an argument again."

"Have you ever been a Scurfifer yourself? I'm asking you because I saw you training. Your kit was very similar."

"No," he answered with regret, "I once developed a method of training for them, and the kit which you saw can fit anybody." This is just a training option, candidates for the profession were trained with the help of these" then he was silent, thinking about something, and continued in about three seconds. "I did not even dare to pass the exam, but now I regret it. Yeah, even if now there was such an opportunity, the contract with the Server would restrain me. Okay, bro, let's move on to the second question."

"Well, let me clarify one thing. You mentioned a "soul" – do you call overalls by this name? And then other elements of armor and weapons can be connected to it, right?"

"Yes, you are right. This is a jumpsuit, which is the basis of the whole set. Due to its direct connection with the piconites in your body, it can combine and power up individual elements of the kit, allowing..."

And then he froze for a moment. And when I turned back to him, I was able to see how his eyes enlarged as if he had undergone plastic surgery. And then I looked into his eyes and in the depths of these eyes, something just struck me. There was a terrible cocktail of emotions, mixed up with mistrust, joy, hope, and for some reason, fear that I felt somehow uncomfortable. Having quickly risen, he briskly headed for the exit from the training grounds and, moving a couple of meters away from me, turning around, he asked with surprise in his voice:

"What are we waiting for? Follow me! And be silent, until I allow you to speak."

The old man gained such a speed that I could barely keep up with him by walking quickly; sometimes I even had to start running in order to keep up with him. When we skipped the dressing room at cruising speed, I managed to stop Sanych for a while.

"Sanych, I have some of my clothes in the locker room, and I should put them on to look decent."

"Um ... Hmm ..." after examining me and himself, he decided that I was right. "I'll give you three minutes!"

He turned around and headed back, probably to the control room. I went into the locker room and quickly changed my clothes, jumped into the corridor, having done everything within half of the time given to me. If you think logically, Sanych realized that I have this suit, so we are most likely heading to a protected place for private conversation, and this leads to a number of unpleasant thoughts, considering his life experience and, accordingly, knowledge of the local, so to say "rules and customs."

I doubt that he would have been done so without any good reason. Sanych came out of the blue and interrupted my thinking. Rushing past me, he just waved his hand, showing that I should follow him. The officer, who was sitting at the entrance, seeing us, almost fell off his chair, but at the last second managed to retain his balance and, jumping up, stared at us with exhausted eyes. Sanych immediately yelled at him, saying a lot of abusive words:

"My dear fucking creature, what are you doing here? Relaxing? Who do you think will be on duty in the control room? The suckers do what they please… You know that in an hour and a half, according to the schedule, the planned classes for the third group of the second company start, so what the hell are you doing here? Go quickly to the post, and in fifteen minutes the training ground should be ready, according to the schedule!"

"OK, I'll get ready with the training grounds! Can I do it now?" A smiling officer belted out.

"Be quick!" Sanych replied.

The officer seemed really excited. It seems that the he is not only afraid of the old man, but also quite looks up to him; I would even say that he admires him. He screamed, he yelled at the officer with the rank of lieutenant, but the officer only smiled, feeling joy that the old man had come out of his depression. Sanych, meanwhile, headed for the stairs to the second floor, muttering to himself:

"In general, the damned idler was relaxing, I had better talk to Alex, and then he would fire some of his fighters..."

Now I do not understand him. Does it give him pleasure to mumble constantly? After all, he can communicate normally, I am convinced of this, but at the same time he stubbornly plays the role of the old grumpy man. Having reached the office of Mr. Carefire, the old man opened the door with his electronic key and waved at me to enter. Hmmm ... The further, the more interesting… If Sanych has the key to the commandant's office, the question is: does he trust him so much or isn't Mr. Carefire the boss at this outpost?

Going behind me, Sanych locked the door with a key and immediately went to the weapon rack. Having pushed it aside, he typed some combination of numbers on the display, after which the entire room was covered from the inside by a reddish energy barrier. Returning to the table, he sat down at the place of the commandant, with a gesture of inviting me to sit down in front of him and, clasping his fingers into the lock, placed them on the surface of the table in front and finally started:

"Remember once and for all: all that we are going to talk about here with you is only for your information, and beyond this room you should keep it quiet. Believe me; this is only for your own safety."

"Wait, it seems rather strange. First, I do not understand the reasons for the buzz around this profession and, with the things. Secondly, how can my security be threatened if I, as a member of the fifth-level restoration project, have an unlimited number of replications."

"Let's start with the fact that replications can be deprived of. And even if you don't bother, they can just give you a very long painful "marathon", while supporting your life."

"I agree; I am being stupid. But all the same, what do Scurfifer and this stuff have to do with it?"

"Here the question is in the main feature of the equipment of Scurfifer, which is both their power, but at the same time their problem. The thing is that their equipment works on psionics, while psionics cannot become Scurfifer."

"But how are they ..." and then it dawned upon me. "Wait, do you want to say that the batteries, for example, of the Seraphim's punishment contain psionic energy?"

"Exactly! The whole kit requires energy. Of course, if desired, it is possible to use usual power sources, but most of the abilities of armor and weapons require enormous energy consumption, and even a very specific type that only psionic energy can provide. In this case, there are a small number of psionic abilities, which each set of things has, but it is still very dependent on the user."

"It turns out that at one time we were able to develop a set of equipment for a fighter, combining psionic and technical capabilities. In theory, the efficiency of such a soldier should be just fantastic, but then I cannot understand why they destroyed this ammunition."

"And here the gamers had good old ambitions as well as greed. A couple of hundred years passed and everything was alright. Psionics for a certain amount of energy shared their energy, fully covering all the needs of the existing Scurfifer. But gradually everything went downhill: there were individuals among corporations, and governments, too, who wanted to use this energy for their personal purposes. At first, it was also bought from Psionics. Then some not very strong Psionics began to go missing. It lasted for quite a while, unnerving the whole society. If you still do not understand, at that time Psionics also lived on the upper levels. But then, one day, for some reason, corporations pushed through the law on the mandatory registration of all mutants and psionics. Moreover, data on psionic strength and the amount of psionic energy produced per day were recorded on a mandatory basis, after which it was found that many mutants are not psionics, but they still produce some energy. A couple of years after the start of registration, the cases of missing mutants became more frequent. By that time, it had already become clear to most sane people that, most likely, they are being shut down somewhere and are being forced to constantly share their psionic energy. Because of this, mutants began to gather into groups, trying to keep closer to each other, and in fifteen to twenty years' time they formed quarters where only mutants lived. Everything could be over time and would stabilize, only the law was passed on the obligatory sharing of psionic energy in certain amounts, which was calculated individually for everyone. It was after this law, which simply turned them into a walking power station, a wave of indignation appeared, which led to mass protests, but then the government, instead of meeting their demands, led out against the mutants units for military suppression of the riot. This was the beginning of the thirty-year war, as a result of which we lost all the lower levels, down to the third one. In the course of this war, practically all Scurfifers that were missing from both sides of the conflict were deliberately eliminated. And the psionic energy conversion technology was lost during the fights. As a result, now there are two opposing structures in Alpharome: on the one hand, psionics and mutated people, on the other there are ordinary people and cyborgs. Psionics are still caught in order to rediscover the lost technology. Now you understand what awaits you, if someone from the knowledgeable people receives information that you have a working set of "Seraphim's Soul" which is connected with psionic energy?"

"I will be fucked up!" I said. "What options do you offer?"

"Now I can see only two options: first, you throw everything in the utilizer and forget that these things once existed. The second one is much more difficult - to prepare and pass a test for the profession. Then, if you collect a complete set, only the Silver Guard, well, or some of the most powerful Psionics can deal with you. In this case, you can already at least partially state your terms."

"What is the complexity of the second option?" if Sanych undertook to consider the second option at all, it means something can still be achieved.

"The difficulty is that now there is no one left who could give you the profession. So it can only be obtained through the center of the professions, having passed a certain test of professional skills and compliance. And the closest centre is on the tenth level. Not only will you have to prepare for the test - I can help you with that, - then you need to be able to get out of that place before you are taken to a special laboratory to be studied more closely."

"Damn, I need a couple of days at least to assess the risks. Okay; I am going on a raid in two days, and when I return, we'll talk about this issue. I can't make a decision right on the spot. By the way, what's your interest?"

"To pursue my dreams."

"What do you mean?"

"It will be difficult to understand. Now you practically do not understand our political alignments and many of the nuances of the existing way of life in Alpharome. Therefore, my explanations will not say anything to you for now; if you want to - we will return to this conversation when you get the profession of Scurfifer."

"If I get it." I corrected him.

"No, I say when you get it! Because if you do not receive it, then there will be no sense in this conversation."

"Clearly, then turn off your jamming system, I will have to think it over."

Full version of the first book: https://www.royalroad.com/amazon/B07M8CV6V7

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