Carl de Montier

Ink listened to Veurato's conversation with Orme Letu. The representative of the clan of alchemists asked him for poison and received a bag with a kind of embroidery in exchange for some mixture of unknown purpose. Much more interesting was the conversation about the inheritance of Michaelon.

"If you know something about the method of invoking the Klata function or hiding places, you better tell everything yourself," the guest of the blood mage assured.

"De Montier has already given me the materials for evaluation." The only thing there is - this one - Veurato went to the cabinet with papers and brought out a stack of red sheets from there. He threw them on the table with some irritation. "See for yourself if such an answer suits you."

- Calling the Klata function. Cut the skin in the middle of the clavicle ... - the representative of the Letu clan stopped and looked up at the blood mage. He gestured for him to continue reading.

The guest drove his eyes, reading the lines of a densely packed handwritten text and frowned more and more.

"It's just a description of torture!" - finally stood Orm Letu. - This is not close to the desired process.

"Exactly," the blood mage said displeasedly. "No matter how Michaelon summoned his" demons, "he took this secret with him to the grave.

- The trade union ...

"I have not achieved any success," Veurato finished for his guest. - The boy simply disincarnated his lamp, the energy surge destroyed the neural connections of the brain to the base. Even their equipment could not fetch a drop of information from Michaelon's head.

"De Montier will be furious," said Orme Letu.

"This is not our problem." Let this Phoenician with a French name demand an answer from a boy whom he decided to save his life.

"Glam is also looking for Michael demons."

"Why do they need him?" - surprised the blood mage. - Although he also settled after the escape right in front of my colleague ... Do you think he knows something?

Orme Letu shrugged and added:

"Even so, who dares to demand answers from him?" Let him shout as much as he wants about his independence from the family - the head of one of the clans of the Great Five will not leave the offenders of his son unpunished.

Further, some obscure things were discussed with Ink , but he still tried to remember as much as possible in order to analyze later. After the departure of the representative of the Letu clan , Ink did not watch the experiments of the blood magician . He plunged into the world of consciousness to practice the hardening of the lamp, but his attention was attracted by the new cry of the leirs. The golden waves from the energy creature made the fingernails become a little thicker, and the sharp ends from the middle of the plate moved to the tips.

"If this continues, they will turn into animal claws," Ink thought, and the final thought of all the changes brought him into a depressed and anxious state.

Liers in the dark layer of his mind - a sea of ​​consciousness, as the auctioneer called him - noticed a peacefully dormant golden beast. The space itself was wider. At its edges, white energy was crushed by a golden layer. Energy gradually melted, and the sea of ​​consciousness became larger in volume.

This surprised Ink a lot , as did the presence of white energy in a dark space. The white sphere reached saturation and no longer absorbed power. The opportunity to increase due to the combination of this white energy and the golden waves of the dinosaur pleased, but in the near future it also frightened me.

"If Arsi has the idea of ​​looking at me again?" In that world, I will become bigger, which means I will arouse suspicion of using techniques from the heritage! Strengthening now is an extra risk, not a benefit. I must avoid absorbing white energy in a dream, - Ink was torn between the desire to become stronger and somehow destroy the threat in his mind and reasonable precaution, saying that Arsi's curiosity was dangerous now. "A small world ... My energy reserves are almost exhausted there." If I sleep there until interest in me disappears ... I don't know ... It remains only to try. "

Understanding the dangers of the situation made Ink act. From free energy he made nine vortices and turned into another sphere with nine threads. She began to collide and scatter with the first, which almost destroyed. Ink created the third, hoping to absorb the whole mass of energy and prevent the power of the lyrs from increasing his sea of ​​consciousness. As soon as the third sphere was formed, the absorption of free energy accelerated significantly.

The balls collided in pairs and bounced in different directions. At some point, the trajectory intersected so that they collided together and seemed to stick together. They circled around each other. Twenty-seven threads flew out of the spheres to collide and merge with the flash into nine, but longer and denser. Around three spheres a new one has formed. It looked like three balls rolling in a glass shell. Nine threads moved non-stop throughout the space, passed through the places of contact of small balls with each other, with the surrounding sphere and in the space between them. It looked like a beautiful dance of snakes or oriental dragons, bewitching and mysterious.

White energy from the environment began to be absorbed with even greater speed, but not absorbed, but grinded. The large shell slightly lit up, spreading the smallest dust into the dark space. As soon as pollen touched multi-colored lumps, they sparkled. Even Lears began to quite laugh in this bath, and his skin seemed to be covered with bright sequins.

A small energy dinosaur swam closer to the sphere. There was pleasure in his purring squeak. He extended a paw to the sphere. As soon as the clawed finger touched the complex structure, one of the threads broke out. Liers flew away with a cry of pain. Ink noticed bump marks on his paw and bone mask. The dinosaur continued to squeak, but Ink did not retreat to the far part of the sea of ​​consciousness, but remained in a stream of white dust.

When the energy crushed by the sphere reached the edge of the sea of ​​consciousness, it disappeared without a trace. Ink watched for a long time and realized that space was expanding a little. Now, this did not even require the stimulation of gold bursts from the Lyrs. This gave rise to a feeling of resentment and some pride. He could not prevent his growth, which promised trouble, but still discovered a new method of development. Tormented by conflicting feelings, Ink continued to observe. After a while, the walls of the sea of ​​consciousness stopped absorbing white dust, and it began to accumulate in a dark space. With some relief, Ink left the mind space. In the zero world, evening has already come. I did not want to sleep at all, the body was awake and longed for movement.

Ink went to the dining room to talk with someone, but was intercepted by a servant. He was wanted to see Carl De Montier, the strongest man of the buffer and the head of the Castle of Goodar.

The room of the strongest buffer man was furnished discreetly, but at the same time it was distinguished by a huge area. De Montier in his black robe and blue turban, coupled with his Middle Eastern appearance, did not at all resemble a Frenchman, so the choice of such a name remained a mystery. The Phoenician, having gained immortality - or his likeness - in the buffer, walked around the huge room from one side to the other.

"You are now under my care," he said without stopping the movement. "Glam said he no longer needs you, ostensibly because you lost your subtle body." In fact, he just wants to avoid problems after your actions. Michaelon annoyed many, but no one killed him. Because he worked for me! The resources of the buffer are limited, and he promised to change ordinary life forms to create new sources of amplification. An ambitious project that has remained unfinished.

Ink watched the movements of De Montier and said nothing. He tried to remember how long Phenicia disappeared into the streams of history.

"Interesting. Everything that has happened since the beginning of the study of keenra I remember perfectly, and the knowledge collected before the ascension is somewhat vague. Is this the action of the mind brace? The sealed memory of my life does not allow me to focus on the past. Is this necessary to make the regenerated and ascended ones evolve? "

- I was informed that among Michaelon's things there were no clues on the method of extraction and application of the Klat function. You wanted to be his heir? Wanted to get "everything he has"? You will get. All his debts! The only thing that indicates receiving the Klata function is the ritual described on the heap of sheets. Now we will be engaged in the extraction of resources from a small world, and after - I will find you an experimental one. You will perform a ritual. Pray for your success.

The strongest buffer man continued to walk around the room.

"As you say ... shh," Ink changed the ending at the last moment and used the usual treatment instead of a respectful form. "Obviously, the ritual will fail." If you give me enough blood samples, then I can do something more impressive than a few freaks in the cells.

De Montier stopped abruptly and turned.

"I don't like daring people." You think you can set conditions for me because you represent at least some value? In your words, their tone, there is no trace of humility. Your eyes give you the urge to rebel.

"Does it matter what I think, as long as the result remains the same?"

- It has! - sharply threw De Montier. - I'm stronger than you!

- How long? In the first world ... who knows how things will turn out.

The leader of the strongest clan of the buffer approached Ink closely. His nostrils fluttered violently.

"I'll beat you right now," he hissed.

"Good," Ink nodded . "And thereby prove that you are acting like a notorious loser." Do you think the rest will become more respected after this?

A sharp blow to the stomach knocked the air out of Ink A. Glam's former student fell to the floor, gritting his teeth so as not to groan.

- Of course. I am a notorious loser. It's right. You think I don't know? Do you think my character does not know at least someone in the buffer? Each time a person enters the world of reflection, he is given a choice of memory or personality. All wise reborn understand what to do - they choose memories. Some retain their identity for some reason, but there is also a third case. Some people do not even get a choice. There is such a category - losers, jerks, cowards. In a word - those who are so selfish and weak that they cannot even see the embodiment of their subconscious in the world of reflection. They find themselves in a pure white world, because they themselves are nothing. This preserves the identity by default. And you know ... memories become a kind of cement for the bastion of consciousness. The personality of such a reborn is very difficult to change. This is done on purpose so that we do not get mad and do not turn everything around into chaos. Some fall in love with mortals, but then what? They do not grieve after the death of their beloved — some, with a glued personality, cannot indulge in pity for what has been lost for too long, others, with a refined character, very quickly adapt to changes — form a completely new morality for themselves. The choice between mind and memory is simply an illusion. It is needed only to soften our rebellious spirit. In reality, there is no choice as such. I still have no idea how I was reborn and why I turned out to be the bearer of such an insignificant personality. For hundreds of years, I have not been able to change it much, I just sharpened drop by drop. Those who choose to preserve their memories can themselves slowly blind their ego anew, but not someone like me. Yes, I'm notorious, - De Montier hit Ink , who had knelt down , - I admit it. Live with me, and you will learn how to easily talk about your shortcomings. Yes, I'm cowardly, because of which I still haven't gone to the first world, but I'm sitting here. Of course, I am petty and vindictive, proud, vain, greedy for flattery and pathologically incredulous. I know this, but because of such a terrible character I do not want to see an understanding of my insignificance in the eyes of others. Remember this well, otherwise ... I will kill you. After the transition to the first world, I will get rid of my vices, because again I can develop mentally, and you ... you will never get into the first world, baby. Get used to this thought and train to pay respect. Because I'm stronger!

Another kick kick threw Ink and from the center of the room to the wall. It was hard not to moan, rising to his feet. Hands trembled with pain and rage.

"Come on," said De Montier, approaching the door. - Look what glory and power are in this world.

Ink trailed behind the head of Goodar Castle. The mood was lousy. De Montier stepped out of the Trade Union building and got into a limousine. Ink disguised his horns and climbed in next. The old man did not even turn his head in his direction. The car drove quickly, but without violating traffic rules. The destination, as Ink had expected , was the exit point from the small world.