The Drow Academy of Sorcery.

Two hours after descending into the underground city, I had already gained some insight into the social structure of the Drow society, as well as a bit of knowledge about their magical practices. However, I still lacked any information about what had transpired here.

According to Salvatore's account, they operate under a system of total matriarchy, in its most oppressive form, with women holding the position of supreme rulers, while men are relegated to the status of subservient cattle. Women alone possess rights, while men are bound solely by their duties. Considering the tyrannical nature of these local matriarchs, it is apparent that the fate of the male population is one of grim subjugation.

Furthermore, there is a need for more information regarding their magical practices. From the limited knowledge I have gained, it appears that their magic predominantly revolves around apostolic rituals, in which they seek aid from their deity, Llos. The few spells I encountered appear to be of a different school, predominantly involving elemental magic and curse-casting. However, it is premature to draw definitive conclusions at this stage. Additional information is required to construct a comprehensive and credible understanding of their magical traditions.

While my illusions were processing and assimilating new data, I did not remain idle. Or, rather, I remained idle, but I remained busy. I created copies of my illusory avatars, and every ten minutes a duplicate of myself appeared next to me, with a mana pool only one-third the size of my own. I ceased creating duplicates only when my illusions, having studied books and scrolls, dispersed.

I desired to expedite my stay in this realm and return to my home world as soon as feasible. This was the purpose for which my clones had been created. They were nearly as proficient as I was in wielding magic. Within the framework of each of my physical clones, I incorporated a series of enchantments designed to extract mana from the surroundings and replenish the clone's reservoir, rendering them effectively immortal. Unless, naturally, they were completely depleted or sustained damage that rendered them incapable of functioning. At present, there were eight of these clones present around me. Until I had assembled an army of subordinates, which I estimated to be equivalent to the rank of my illusions, I would not venture beyond the confines of the house.

The magical ambience in this realm was of a remarkable calibre, akin to that of a ritual hall, with the source power of Hogwarts at my disposal. I need not have been overly concerned about maintaining my illusions' self-sustainability. The ambient mana was so abundant that it would have taken them several hours to replenish their full capacity from zero.

On the contrary, the rate of their creation was constrained solely by the energetic bandwidth of my soul. I was able to release two-thirds of my entire reserve in just over ten minutes. My illusions were not merely manifestations of mana; they contained a substantial amount of my astral, mental, and pranic energies. It was feasible to create them nearly identical to myself, but it was futile, as they, being mere illusions, were incapable of employing truly potent and powerful spells of the Archmage level. In fact, they were sufficient for only one such spell before dissipating. However, a contingent of magi as a support force is also a significant source of might!

For eight days I remained within the confines of the dwelling chosen as my temporary base, during which time I was engaged in the process of creating clones. Only when I had reached the number of four hundred and fifty did I cease this activity. In this world, I can rely only on myself, and this support should be sufficient to purify the entire city.

Instead of venturing out onto the streets to conduct pest control personally, I dispatched sixty groups of five master clones to patrol the perimeter, gradually advancing in a spiral towards the city center. This was where all the lines of control and sustenance for the virus that stripped the city of its defenses converged. A hundred and fifty of the clones remained in reserve, ensuring the safety of the residence where I took refuge.

Nonetheless, it is a cheat's advantage! By combining my own mental capabilities, inherited from the Basilisk, with the mental gift of Kitsune for creating dense, tangible illusions, and Dracula's purely mental psychic ability that allows me to manipulate the mind of the target, I have been able to generate an unlimited number of replicas of myself. These replicas can engage in combat against the Magister and inflict harm upon the Archimagus, unless he swiftly destroys them with his initial strike and prevents them from launching an attack.

The beauty of this ability lies in the fact that it places no additional burden upon me, regardless of how many replicas I create — neither mentally nor magically. The reason why I had not previously employed this capability is beyond my comprehension. However, I intend to assemble my own personal army as soon as I depart. In the event of encountering any difficulties, I will unleash them to create chaos. I estimate that a thousand of such individuals, each possessing both martial prowess and advanced magical skills, could eliminate a pair of Archimages simultaneously. Regardless, I shall certainly do so!

Now, having assembled my own small army — which is a resource that is not difficult to expend and can be swiftly replenished — I gave the order to clean up and retired for the night. Occasionally, I could go for months without feeling fatigued or uncomfortable. But not this time. Over the past few days, I had not stopped for a moment to construct a magical edifice, a scaffolding of enchantments for my clones, into which I continuously infused mana. And now, deprived of access to the infinite wellspring of light of the All-One, I drew upon the energy of the two imprisoned deities within the staff, only to refine and transform it into my own. Only then could I channel it into the reservoir of my illusions. The concentration and maintenance of these intricate and laborious processes demanded a significant expenditure of mental effort.. There was a transformation of mana, a drawing of a framework of enchantments, their maintenance, a gradual powering up in a certain sequence for each block, the imposition of my mental imprint responsible for the mind to the clone, saturation with the necessary amount of energies from other layers of my soul required for its normal functioning, as well as monitoring the capacity and operation of the signaling enchantments I had deployed. And all of this was accomplished simultaneously and in parallel.

This was the first time I had been so occupied with so many tasks simultaneously and with such intensity. Never before had I allowed so much mana to flow through me simultaneously for such an extended period. As a result, my soul felt akin to my body after an intense workout at the gym, with my spiritual muscles buzzing from the strain I had endured and emitting a faint whimper. I desperately needed a respite. Thus, I granted myself one.

It took me precisely five hours to regain my composure, alertness, and vitality. Upon awakening, my first act was to receive a mental transmission containing all the information regarding the time that elapsed while my clone was in charge and had been assigned to guard a group comprising fourteen additional illusions in my stead.

During my recovery, my valiant companions had already eliminated approximately one-tenth of the chimeras in the city, which was a pace I had anticipated. Naturally, it could have been more rapid, but as I neared the city's core, the chimeras became increasingly powerful. Just three hundred meters from the outskirts of the city, closer to its center, there existed individuals capable of single-handedly confronting and defeating six of my illusions, and these individuals were, for the most part, masters of sorcery.

The physical abilities of these creatures were truly extraordinary. Their speed was so great that the human eye could not follow, and even my own reflexes were strained to keep up. They were not Dracula or other vampires of superior strength, but they were still half the speed of ancient bloodsuckers.

As we ventured deeper into the heart of the city, these beings became increasingly adept at using their magical abilities. Some of them were capable of launching arrows of ash, or at least spells that resembled such weapons. However, they imbued these projectiles with such quantities of necrosis and darkness that they resembled spears more than arrows. Two of these arrows had already taken down my illusory duplicates.

I have only ventured into the outskirts of this realm, you might say, but even here I have encountered formidable adversaries.

At present, my tally of casualties stands at eight destroyed clones. Having received this new piece of information, I have begun to question whether my remaining 442 illusory replicas will be sufficient for a thorough sweep of the city. I have an ominous feeling that I will need to bombard my foes with the flesh of my endless phantoms. I never wish to leave this comfortable abode where no one attempts to assassinate or devour me.

Alas, there is naught to be done. I must hoard my newly acquired illusions until the day of triumph. I pray that it shall be mine! How delightful it would be to contaminate them all, as Salazar and Rowena once did, infecting the goblin horde that besieged Hogwarts with a magical virus. However, such an endeavor is futile, for draider organisms are inherently resistant to toxins and poisons. The most perplexing aspect is the grafted chaos within their energy system. I cannot predict how it would react to my attempts at poisoning these chimeric creatures. My fear is that my contagion may evolve into something far more sinister.

I do not possess the necessary ingredients on hand. I have an extensive supply of pre-prepared potions and elixirs for various purposes, along with rare and costly components — but not everything I would require to create a lethal toxin or pathogen. I had not anticipated being granted such an epic mission, leaving me to embark on it unprepared.. My benefactress, Vasilisa, has no expectation of my survival or of clearing her debt to Leshem through my assistance. She merely seeks a respite before encountering another unfortunate individual. Vile woman! We shall settle our score.

My city is teeming with bloodthirsty beings. I will not allow my foul mood to be further soured by thoughts of this woman.

For the past twenty-four hours, without respite or a single sip of water, I have been engaged in the task of creating new units, immediately dispatching them to the frontlines. Now, I have pushed myself to the verge of spiritual exhaustion, and the creation of one or two additional illusions may begin to harm my mental well-being. Enough is enough! It is time to take a break.

It has been five weeks since the last time I saw sunlight in this accursed city.

For the past few days, my operations have been purely mechanical. Everything is automated, performed by my subconscious on autopilot: to recreate in my mind the framework of the illusory clone's charms, to direct the necessary energy channels from my spiritual planes (I nourish the clones not only with mana). In parallel, I imprint my personal matrix onto the clone.

One stream of consciousness constantly extracts energy from the captives of the staff, while another stream assimilates and processes it. No extraneous thoughts or information have entered my consciousness – all my streams were engaged at this moment, with only one dedicated to analytical work. It was extracting new data about the draiders from the memories of the destroyed clones, as well as devising strategies for countering and combating them.

In the past thirty-six days, I had cleared less than half of the city. This was due to the fact that the houses in the elite districts were five or even ten times larger than they appeared to be from the outside. The basements of these houses were extensive and branching, extending down to five to seven floors, and they were no longer rushing at my clones in a frenzied frontal assault. My clones had had time to become accustomed to all the monsters that came and ran by them, making noise.

However, half an hour after clearing the upper floors of one of the larger houses and not descending below, but continuing their advance, my clones received an unexpected blow in the back from twenty of the most powerful draiders encountered at that time. These creatures were ambushing, capable of passing my clones in front and attacking when they were distracted. These creatures, having achieved a certain level of strength, were able to conceal themselves so well that they could only be detected when they were already a dozen meters away.. Now, they do not rush headlong towards an intruder as soon as their alarm systems are triggered, but rather skillfully orchestrate ambushes and operate in concert, collaborating with their kind.

However, something of interest awaits me today. We have approached one of the most majestic and vast structures in this city, a place with activated magical defenses. Such construction requires significant effort. If this structure can withstand the magical plague that has virtually overtaken the surrounding area, then there must be something extraordinary hidden within.

My primary interest lies in knowledge, in books, and in anything that may shed light on the events that have unfolded here. There is a towering magical dome in the center square, preventing me from peering beyond it to discern the source of the plague.

I attempted to soar towards the dome, but I was unable to approach it closely. At a distance of approximately six hundred meters from the dome, I sensed the watchful eyes of several unseen observers. Simultaneously, my instincts began to caution me against pushing my luck further. Thus, I refrained from testing my limits. At that point, my reserves were only half depleted, and I did not wish to engage in combat in such a weakened state. Ultimately, I resolved to wait for the opportune moment.

The edifice that caught my attention bore a resemblance to a classic rook, akin to the Lovegoods' residence in the Harry Potter films, albeit a hundred meters in height and slightly smaller in circumference. The colossal fortress tower was densely adorned with protective enchantments that harmoniously coexisted, forming an impenetrable barrier.

The structure was under siege, leaving me with no clear path to entry. The local magical arts were unfamiliar to me, rendering deceptive methods ineffective. Only brute force and a crowbar could aid me in this endeavor. My hope lies in the strength of my staff and my own abilities to breach this barrier and gain access. This must be a local school of magic or an academy, where I can expand my understanding of the local magical landscape.

I augmented the number of my phantasmal duplicates to twelve hundred. Subsequently, I dispatched them with a directive to cease their sweeping operations and regroup around the fortification, in areas that had already been cleared of chimeras, maintaining a vigilant perimeter. Should I breach its defenses, this edifice will serve as my stronghold prior to the conquest of the city. The distance to the central square, my ultimate objective, amounts to only eight hundred meters, and in close proximity to it resides one of those sentinels whose scrutiny proved so formidable when I endeavored to ascend to the magical dome through levitation.

When my clones encircled the building, I retired to bed, protected by the illusions I had created. Tomorrow, I would finally break the monotony of endlessly replenishing my army, and I could look forward to some variety. I was weary of sitting in the same room, doing nothing but producing illusory clones in a monotonous routine.

Yet I could not complain. In the past month, my reserves had grown slightly, and my mana and other forms of energy production had increased by a few percent. My mental soul shell had also progressed considerably, and I felt I was on the verge of becoming an Archmage of the Mind, capable of performing feats similar to those of an Archimagus with psi energy, although I primarily relied on mana.

I possessed all the necessary knowledge, skills, and innate talent to manipulate both my opponent's and my own mental spheres at the level of an Archimage. However, I still needed a larger reservoir of mental power — Psi — to claim the full title of Archmage.

But I feel, with every fibre of my being, that there will soon be a quantum leap in the evolution of my sixth chakra, its transformation and transition to a new stage of development. The constant mental strain and expenditure of psychic energy are exhausting. It is a feat to create more than three thousand clones using the master's reserve in such a brief timeframe! And these clones not only possess mana, but also mental energy. Incidentally, I am now capable of creating clones in five minutes — exactly twice as quickly as before. This represents a significant advancement in the capacity of my soul's energies.

I recalled the expression that appeared on Maria's face when I first offered her this dish, not specifying the ingredients but merely stating that she could choose between oatmeal or the rest of the options. Naturally, she declined, opting for scrambled eggs.

We were camping at the time, and I was teaching her about identifying moon ferns. This led us to spend several days exploring the swamp in search of the right plant, and she was not yet thirteen years old.

So there we were, sitting on a small hill in the midst of the marsh one morning. She had already begun her breakfast of scrambled eggs, while I was enjoying a bowl of oatmeal. Pear slices, raspberries, and strawberries shimmered with vibrant colors, and a layer of amber honey glistened atop it.

In response to her curiosity, I offered her a taste of my breakfast. Oatmeal is often considered the food of servants and the "barefoot nobility," and many aristocrats are unaware of its appearance or flavor.

I'm experiencing a moment of nostalgia. What is it about?

Having concluded my morning meal, I donned my replicant armour and set off towards the edifice that had piqued my curiosity.

Having arrived at the base of the fortress, I commenced my examination of the wall, which appeared to be devoid of any windows, gates, or other openings. It appeared to be completely impenetrable, unlike the structures in the vicinity, which seemed to be solid stone. However, this particular structure was constructed from large blocks, allowing me to scrutinize their intricate details without obstruction.

Upon approaching the tower, it became evident that these blocks were crafted from a unique mineral that incorporated an unknown metal, imbuing them with extraordinary properties in terms of artifacting. This material exhibited exceptional shielding capabilities while simultaneously facilitating mana conduction. The absurdity of it all became apparent when I discerned the rapid currents of magical energy coursing through it, yet I remained unable to fully engage with them, as all my enchantments dissipated upon contact with the outer layer of this mineral.

In my magical vision, the blocks remained opaque, requiring astral sight to fully comprehend the processes occurring within them.. The dimensions of all the blocks were identical — one and a half meters in length, width, and height. Each block was constructed with a three-dimensional, intricate skeleton, a network of metal wires, upon which were tied amulets of an unknown nature. The tower proved completely impervious to magical influence, rendering all my attempts at manipulating it futile.

The fortress at the tower's walls also proved to be extraordinary. I materialized a multi-ton boulder at the very apex of the cavern, some fifteen hundred meters above the tower's roof, and hurled it downward, imbuing it with telekinetic force. Yet, despite my efforts, not even a scratch appeared on this remarkable mineral.

I resolved to pursue my course of action. The task at hand was not an easy one, but I succeeded in damaging one of the wall's stones. I hurled my staff with all my strength, akin to a spear with a divine-horned side. However, my efforts were met with a disappointing result, as I only succeeded in chipping off a minuscule pebble no larger than a fingernail.

It is understandable that my staff was designed to pierce living flesh or at least something possessing a soul, rather than stone. Nonetheless, the resilience of this stone remains astonishing. Nevertheless, there exist more efficient methods for breaching such a structure. With this approach to opening the tower, I would be confined under its walls for an extended period of at least one month.

I must attempt to circumvent its resistance to magical forces. To accomplish this, I will need to exert a concentrated burst of pure light, the most potent I can muster, against a specific point in its defence. It remains to be seen whether my reserves will deplete before the wall does.

That was a rhetorical question, but why did I decide to strike with light? In this realm, where most spells are the work of dark magicians, there is an inherent presence of darkness mana. Light, as its antithesis, was the obvious choice. However, my desire to illuminate the entire dungeon was limited, so I delayed the inevitable and resorted to using strong alchemical and non-magical acids and solvents on the stone, hoping to achieve my goal.

Having exhausted my supply of active substances from my dimensional pocket, I turned to my final option: basilisk venom, a substance I did not hold much hope for. Known for its potency against animate foes and manifested magic, I believed it would be ineffective against the antimagic properties of the mineral. But to my surprise, as soon as the venom made contact with the mineral, it began to dissolve before my eyes, achieving a complete and total success.

But the instant the block began to crumble, I sensed the faint presence of ba-hyon, which ignited a surge of fury within me, threatening to plunge my untrained mind into madness. I narrowly escaped the consequences for my own sanity, only thanks to my strong mental fortitude and clear mental structure, preventing the deep rage of my animal nature from taking over my mind and irrevocably affecting it from sensing the presence of our ancient enemy, the serpent.

If my companions from the island were with me now, they too would have transformed into frenzied beasts, devoid of reason and driven solely by the desire to annihilate everything connected to the legacy of the one whose divine essence was embodied in the mineral. Now I comprehended the reason behind the mineral's resilience and resistance to magical manipulation. Llos herself had imbued it with her enchantments.

By spilling more of my noxious substance against the wall, I created an oval aperture slightly taller and wider than my own height. Naturally, my duplicates were the first to venture through. Only upon receiving a mental reassurance from them regarding the safety of the space, did I follow.

Together, my clones and I discovered ourselves in a compact rectangular chamber measuring four by ten meters, adorned with shelves lining the walls and a central one. Upon these shelves, we found a diverse array of laboratory instruments crafted from glass and imbued with enchanted crystals.

As is my custom, I dispatched a hundred of my phantoms to scour the room. Telekinetically, I moved the cabinet in the center of the room against the wall and conjured a chair for myself, into which I sank comfortably and commenced to await news from my duplicates. My «guys» prowled the academy for three hours, and my intuition was confirmed.

And in the fourth hour, when my phantasms had already ascended to the upper floors, I received a telepathic summons from the leader of one of the five teams, who was tasked with inspecting the final, eighth level. I was engaged in my midday repast when I was diverted by a request from my duplicate to ascend and verify for myself, while simultaneously participating in the interrogation of the sentient being they had discovered.

Upon realizing the nature of what I had just heard, I immediately erected mental and physical barriers to protect myself from harm and hastened towards the illusory duplicate, which had so unexpectedly, albeit pleasantly, surprised me. In this city teeming with mindless chimera, I had not anticipated encountering any living, sentient beings.

Ascending to the uppermost level, I proceeded down the central passage, traversing through branching corridors and doors, returning to chambers I had previously explored, until I found myself before an intricately carved door fashioned from chitin. Upon entering, I discovered myself in the presence of an office, whether it belonged to the rector or director of this establishment, was of little consequence.

The scene was a disheartening one: only three of the five illusions I had conjured still existed, and the room itself was in a state of disarray. However, there was an abominable figure pinned to the wall across from the entrance, resembling Peter Parker in his moment of regression, when he transformed into a monstrous form with two pairs of additional limbs. The creature writhed and growled, its movements restrained by steel-like spears materialized from the wall, preventing its feet from touching the ground.

At first glance, this peculiar draider appeared to be devoid of intelligence, embodying the essence of a feral creature governed solely by instinct. I resolved to delve deeper into his psyche. My clones would not deceive me or summon me without cause, would they not?

As I penetrated his mental realm, a profound understanding emerged. The drow before me, once a powerful mage on par with archmages, had likely honed his skills in the realm of combat magic, particularly in elemental magic and the art of casting curses. Yet, his prowess extended beyond the physical, encompassing the realm of mental magic.

The metamorphosis of the drow was spontaneous, as anticipated. Nonetheless, he possessed the ability to halt this transformation and prevent the emergence of a new matrix of consciousness, which would otherwise have completely engulfed his mind. Through the process of compartmentalization, he successfully isolated the new personal matrix within the designated area of his mental construct, effectively shielding it from complete assimilation. However, his attempts to maintain control over his physical form proved futile. Consequently, this ancient sorcerer found himself ensnared in the confines of his own body, subjected to the influence of the mental module that governed the instinctual and behavioral aspects of draeder existence.

It was a simple matter for me to stun the draider mentally. Now, the body no longer thrashed against the wall in a frenzy, seeking to leap from the spears that held it, and I gazed at it with eyes that were no longer human, but with eyes in which I could perceive reason. Schizophrenia in all its splendour.

I cast a translation enchantment on the chamber, modifying the spell I had cast upon myself when dealing with unfamiliar languages. Now, we shall be able to comprehend one another, assuming he can still speak. He is no longer a drow, but neither is he a fully-fledged draider either. I have not yet diagnosed his condition, so I pray that his vocal cords remain intact.

"Do you understand me?" I asked him in Russian, letting the first words spoken hereafter millennia of silence be uttered in my native tongue, from a bygone world.

The linguistic enchantments rendered his hoarse, growling, squealing, and whistling gibberish into words comprehensible to my mind, and he replied, "Yes. Who are you?"

I am Svyatozar, an archmage dispatched here to address the repercussions of the events unfolding.

"I have a favor to ask of you, archmage," he said, as if he did not fully believe in himself at that moment. He did not believe in what he was requesting or in the possibility of it being granted. "Save my daughter. Remove her from this cursed place, and I shall give you anything you desire."

Are there any other living and sane beings here? How delightful, truly delightful! Although his plea is naïve, let us proceed.

I will honor your request and safeguard her, provided she poses no threat to me, on one condition:

— What is that?

His voice faltered. The draider's consciousness was beginning to return. I had to strike again, rendering him unconscious.

You will grant me access to your entire memory and will not resist when I begin extracting it.

In theory, I could simply put an end to his existence, and then, through the process of capturing his essence, extract all the information I desired. However, the soul sustains damage upon the moment of death. Although it may be minuscule, it still exists, potentially impacting the coherence of the spiritual essence of the departed. My objective was to preserve every fragment of his memory intact.

"Very well. But only after I have taken the oath!" he replied promptly, without a moment's hesitation.

His desire was to retire as soon as possible from the role of a mere bystander, confined to the vicinity of a mental module that replaced the mind of the chimera, unable to exert any control over his own body. Such a predicament would undoubtedly drive even the staunchest rationalist to the brink of insanity. However, the man persisted in his efforts, seeking to influence the course of events. His primary objective and ambition in life were the well-being and happiness of his daughter, serving as the sole anchor preventing his mind from descending into madness.

"I, Svyatozar Zmiev, Dark Lord, Light Lord," the words rolled off my tongue, as the translation enchantments not only rendered my name and surname in a Drow-compatible form but also added the honorific "Serpent of Knowledge!" Oh, absolutely! Is this all me? Like a song by Skryptonite, multi-branded and all.

All these thoughts flashed through my mind in the background, and I continued with the oath. "I accept the responsibility to care for your daughter, whom you entrust to me, to ensure her safety and to take her away from this place, provided you grant me all your knowledge and memories in payment. She shall not resist." I vow it!

Ah, he has a satisfied look on his face. Apparently impressed by my titles and more assured that his daughter is in capable hands.

"I, Dordsh of House Fershh, do hereby solemnly swear to divulge no secrets and to impart all my knowledge and memories for the sake of my daughter, Fesalia, and to assist her in her quest to escape this place. So I swear!"

With the magical aura enveloping us, confirming the binding of our pact, I delved into Dordsh's consciousness. I meticulously copied and archived his memories, preparing to transfer them to my own mental repository upon completion. Later, I would dissect and analyse them in depth.

"And where is your daughter now?"

Her elusiveness has been a source of fascination, as she has evaded my detection.

"Remove the pendant from my neck. She resides within it, entwined with the essence of Light-face, existing now in a timeless realm beyond the confines of material existence."

A state of suspended animation, I perceive.

Upon removing the ornament, my illusory duplicate approached Dordsh and handed the pendant to me, having verified its authenticity. Upon closer inspection, I discerned that I appeared to be a century or two older.

— At what age, in your opinion, does one become an adult? — It was no idle question. As I gazed at the pendant that resembled a frozen amber droplet, I discovered within its depths the shell of an acorn that had preserved a tiny infant.

— "One hundred and fifty years have passed, and Thessaly has aged by less than a generation."

Mm-hmm. I must raise her, lest my vow be broken, and bring her through to adulthood unscathed and content in life. Well-being is, after all, part of our pact with Dordsh, our magical patron. I am, in fact, her magical godfather now. There is much more I wished to say to the drow, but time was of the essence. His life cycles had ceased, and his spirit would have fled to reincarnation had it not been for a death spell suspended upon him, ensnaring his soul.

Despite having taken the oath and having the memories and knowledge in my possession, the drow are a tricky lot. This one had deceived me in the first moments of our encounter, hanging his child around my neck. How was I to know his daughter was but a babe? The drow have eight shells, ensuring they live until violence ends their existence. This is why the director of the academy must be a wise man who has lived for centuries, perhaps even millennia.. My mind, in a state of subconscious thought, perceived his daughter as a fully-grown individual, and this was a deliberate arrangement. One consolation is that she is in a state of suspended animation and coiled within a space-time continuum. Thus, for the time being, I am not required to organise her life as a child.

Yes, I went to the store for bread! My intention was to acquire knowledge, but I encountered a challenge in the form of a baby in my arms. Well, I will reflect on this matter when I return from my journey. Meanwhile, I need to verify the accuracy of the information voluntarily provided by the drow, who is now residing within my mental body. This verification can only occur when he is entirely under my control, leaving no room for deception.