《The Tapestry of the End》 Prologue Darkness "What... Where am I?" flashed through the mind of a young man floating in weightlessness, surrounded by impenetrable darkness. He was slightly taller than average, with raven-black hair, deep-set blue eyes resembling the purest sapphire. Sharp facial features, pale white skin, and a toned physique gave him the appearance of an elegant young man. "Wh-where am I? Who am I? What am I doing here?" surrounded by emptiness, he asked himself these questions for an unknown number of hours, days, weeks, or maybe months? And only the screams of people, echoing occasionally in his consciousness, like a warden, accompanied his existence in this place. This place was very strange. Neither cold nor hot. No wind, smell, sound, color, only a feeling of incredible calm. Suddenly, like lightning in the night, a bright beam of light pierced the darkness around, bringing colors and sounds into the void. "B-1380, sector GOLF has fallen. By order of the A-8 council, our unit is being sent to support the first line of defense of sector Kilo." "ATTENTION! THE ENEMY IS APPROACHING THE RIGHT FLANK! IT IS RECOMMENDED TO SEND SEVERAL SQUADS TO SUPPRESS IT!" "Aggghhh!!!" "Help, no, no, please! I don''t want to die!!" "Open the door, bastards, you have no right to leave us here!" Immediately after the appearance of the light, hundreds of memories simultaneously arose in the consciousness of the blue-eyed man. Dozens of strangely familiar images, bringing with them terrifying pain, cut through his consciousness like a razor-sharp knife through tender flesh. ===== (indistinct sounds resembling speech) Adapting after the sudden appearance of all 5 senses and raising his eyes, he saw a huge hall decorated with banners with an unknown coat of arms. The ceiling stretched upwards, as if trying to reach the sky, and the sun shone outside the window. "Bene..." ¡ª a female voice was heard from somewhere. ¡ª "Rituale felix fuit. Accipe eum in aulam magus." ¡ª said a stranger with soft facial features, chestnut hair, and emerald eyes, standing a few meters away from him. A moment later, the guards grabbed him and dragged him to another room. Not understanding what was happening, he obediently followed their will. The new room looked completely different. It resembled an office. Or a laboratory? Piled with various papers, there were all sorts of flasks with unknown liquids everywhere. "Cum iti vindeci inima gratulor, filia" ¡ª said an old man in a robe standing in the center of the room. A huge guard in steel armor grabbed his hand again and led him to the old man. Placing his hand on the young man''s head, he began to mutter something extremely indistinct.Stolen novel; please report. "O deus scientiae .... Domine sapientiae .... Summe sapiens .... oro pro tua benedictione... da scientiam puero huic." "AAAGghh!?" ¡ª clutching his head, the black-haired young man fell to his knees. The pain, piercing his consciousness like the sharpest sword, brought with it an understanding of the language of these people. "Now he should understand us." ¡ª said the old man, turning to the green-eyed lady. "Thank you very much for your work." ¡ª she said, bowing slightly towards him. "Welcome, hero, who was summoned to our world. My name is Anet Valeri Timor. I am in charge of the summoning ritual and am the princess of the Ignis Empire." ¡ª saying this, she performed a light curtsy. "What? Where am I? What world?! Hero? If this is a joke, it worked, but I will file a complaint for kidnapping, clear?!" "Please, calm down. I will tell you everything in order, but for now, follow me." ¡ª she said, gracefully pointing to the exit. ===== Walking down a well-lit corridor decorated with banners and portraits of people who looked remarkably like this lady, she began her story: "You see, you were summoned to this world to resolve the conflict between the three largest states of the eastern continent: the Republic of San-Harz, the Kingdom of Vjorn, and the Ignis Empire. In our world, there are six continents ¨C Northern, Southern, Western, Eastern, Elven, and the Continent of Darkness. At the moment, we are on the western continent. The conflict is a war that broke out between the largest empires five years ago." "But how and why did I end up here?" ¡ª the young man said with a shocked expression. "Please do not interrupt. I understand your shock, but I will tell you everything in order." ¡ª said Anet. At the same time, her expression changed for a moment. It seemed she was holding back her irritation. "As you say..." ¡ª understanding this, he decided to remain silent and listen to the story. "Ahem, ahem. As I said, there is currently a war between the largest states on our continent. We are now in the palace of the Ignis Empire, and you were summoned to resolve this conflict. Naturally, in our favor." ¡ª she said with a slight smile. "What??!! But I am an ordinary person, how can I resolve THIS??!!" ¡ª he exclaimed. "Please do not worry. Every person who comes to our world, due to the specifics of the ritual, possesses power. To be precise, the ritual independently selects a candidate capable of moving from one world to another, and such individuals simply cannot be ordinary. Since you are here, it means you have enough power to be considered an outstanding person capable of resolving the situation." ¡ª she said. "According to our information, the enemy is planning to summon, if they have not already summoned, heroes with the same goal as us." "You mean I will have to participate in the war, and there will also be several others like me?!" ¡ª he said, almost shouting. "Please do not worry, the empire will provide you with full support." "GO TO HELL WITH YOUR SUPPORT, CLEAR?! BRING ME BACK HOME!!!" ¡ª he shouted. "Sorry, but we cannot do that." "WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO KIDN..." "We cannot prepare the relocation ritual right now." ¡ª she interrupted. "WHAT THE H..." ¡ª he wanted to shout, but fell silent, hearing the footsteps of the guards behind him. "You mean to say you can kidnap me, but cannot return me?" ¡ª he asked. "Returning you requires a huge amount of resources. Due to the complexity of the process, it may take months or even years to prepare the ritual." ¡ª the princess interrupted, with an imperturbable expression on her face. "It is in your best interest to support us, after the war we will return you, but for now, proceed to the assessment hall." ¡ª she said, making a light gesture towards the huge doors at the end of the corridor. Having no choice, the young man, who had fallen into slight despair, trudged in the indicated direction. Arriving at the assessment hall, Anet pointed to a strange metal device resembling an astrolabe, with symbols carved on it, externally resembling runes, and said: "Please, place your hand on the device. It will measure your mana and we will be able to determine the powers you possess." ¡ª she explained. Having no choice, he placed his hand on the device. A moment later, the symbols began to emit a blue glow, and the device hummed faintly. This continued for a couple of minutes, after which everything fell silent. And a moment later... "He has nothing!" ¡ª shouted the old man in the robe, looking at the empty screen a couple of meters from the assessment site. "What do you mean nothing!?" ¡ª shouted the girl with chestnut hair. "He doesn''t even have essence! Not to mention unique power like other heroes!" ¡ª he shouted in response. "Could the device have malfunctioned?" ¡ª she asked. "Impossible. It was calibrated two days ago. Moreover, an hour before us, a knight from the Dracardis family was tested on it." ¡ª the mage objected. "DAMN, don''t tell me he is one of the summoned without power!!!" ¡ª she said, hitting the table nearby with her fist. "Princess, please, do not use such vulgar words." ¡ª the old man said timidly. "I don''t care about vulgarity! We spent so many resources on the summoning ritual and it was all in vain!" ¡ª Anet shouted and turned to the pale young man. "Throw this wretch into the dungeon! We will decide his fate later." ¡ª she ordered the guards. Pale, he once again glanced around the room in hopes of finding an exit. But the only salvation was the slightly open door, treacherously located right behind the guards. Having no other choice, he rushed towards the door, but... BAM It took the armored man only a couple of seconds to strike and knock him out. ***** Note: (An astrolabe is a historical instrument used to determine the position of celestial bodies and predict astronomical events.) (I apologize for using Latin instead of a fictional language...) Auction house Drip... Drip... The rhythmic sound of drops falling on the stone floor echoed in the silence. In a dark, damp, moldy cell, leaning against a cracked wall, sat a young man. Struggling to breathe the stale air and staring at one point with his lifeless, dull eyes, he kept thinking the same thought over and over again. "I want to go back," the thought flashed through his mind again. But for what? He didn''t know. However, the myriad of scenes, beautiful in their bloody cruelty, gave him no peace. Despite the abundance of memories in his mind, he once again failed in his futile attempt to remember his past. Not even knowing the name that once belonged to him, the blue-eyed young man replayed everything that had happened to him in his mind. During this week, he had already undergone three power evaluations, each time failing. Neither the second nor the third attempts changed the result. And now, after a week, sitting in a decrepit cell, he awaits the decision of his captors, a decision that will change his fate. Step... Step... Heavy footsteps were heard from the end of the corridor. With each second, the sound of steel hitting the stone floor grew closer to the cell. A moment later, a guard appeared at the door, holding a bowl in his hands. "Eat," he said irritably, throwing the bowl on the floor. The young man looked at the bowl, filled with something that only vaguely resembled food. "Why am I here? For what?" he muttered in a hoarse voice. "You''ve asked this question for the third time," the guard said wearily. "And each time I get no answer," he reproached, looking at the man''s face in armor. "Pfff... I don''t know the exact reason, but rumors say a lot of money was spent on the ritual. It was completed. However, you have no powers, which means it was all in vain," the guard said with a tired sigh. "And what will happen to me?" he asked again. "I don''t know. You could be sold, used for potion components, or left to rot here for the rest of your life¡ªanything could happen," the man replied with a slight note of pity in his voice. "And what should I do?" the young man stammered quietly. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. "Nothing. Wait and pray to the gods of fate for mercy," the guard replied, then headed for the exit. "Why..." the prisoner said quietly, hugging his knees. ===== Two days later. The prisoner, sitting in the dirty, old dungeon, heard the familiar heavy footsteps again. After several dozen seconds, the same guard appeared in front of the cell. "Get up," he ordered, opening the cell door. "What''s happening?" the young man said in a lifeless voice. "An order was given to take you to the auction house," the guard said. With great difficulty, the young man stood up, seeing the shackles in the hands of his guard, and obediently extended his hands. Feeling the cold metal of the shackles on his wrists and ankles, he trudged towards the exit. Each step echoed in his heart. He felt hope fading, overshadowing the last glimmers of faith in salvation. Despair enveloped him like a fog, depriving him of the strength to resist and forcing him to accept the inevitable. After 10 minutes of wandering through the narrow, poorly lit corridors of the castle, they finally reached the main gates. The huge palace doors, covered with light rust and traces of time, seemed like the last barrier to freedom. The wind, penetrating through the cracks, brought with it the smell of rain and dampness, but the young man did not feel it¡ªhe was overwhelmed by an endless sense of hopelessness. When the huge gates began to open slowly, a dull creak was heard. The heavy doors, creaking and banging against the stone jambs, broke the dead silence. A breeze blew through the opening, bringing with it a slight stench from the dark city. Finally, when the gates opened completely, the young man saw a gloomy landscape outside the castle: a low sky, covered with heavy leaden clouds, hung over the city, as if pressing down on it with its hopelessness, gray roofs, narrow streets filled with shadows, monolithic old houses stretching for miles. Ten meters in front of him stood a black carriage, reinforced with metal. On its doors were the familiar coats of arms. The grilles on the windows almost completely obscured the view of the interior of the carriage. "Why are you standing?" the guard asked, pushing him slightly in the back. Walking slowly forward, the young man continued to survey the surroundings. The castle they were leaving was surrounded by a huge moat filled with water. On either side of the gates and on the defensive walls, sentries in light armor with plate segments stood guard. Finally, they crossed the bridge. The taciturn escort pulled on the carved handle. The metal-reinforced door creaked open. Inside was dim. Wooden benches lined the sides of the carriage, sharply contrasting with the rich exterior decoration of the provided transport. "Where are we going?" the young man asked, sitting inside. A slight jolt and the subsequent shaking indicated that the carriage had started moving. "To the auction house," came the brief reply. "Why?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be. "Why else would we be going there?" the guard said with a slight mockery in his voice. The young man just bit his lip, understanding his hopeless situation. Could he try to escape? No. An escape attempt would only lead to death. It would take the guard only a couple of seconds to neutralize or kill him. And the unfamiliarity with the area, combined with his exhausted body, did not add to his chances of a successful escape. Turning these grim thoughts in his head, he looked towards the window. Beyond the dirty bars stretched countless narrow streets. Most of the dirty alleys had long been hidden in the shadows. Occasionally, voices reached him. People standing on the streets watched the carriage passing by with curious glances. The elegant coats of arms, sharply contrasting with the grilles and the intimidating appearance of the carriage, aroused genuine curiosity among the passersby, mired in the routine struggle for survival. They stopped and whispered among themselves. "Who is that?" "Hey, look, there are imperial coats of arms on the carriage." "Seriously? But why are there grilles on the windows?" "Idiots. That''s not the imperial family''s coat of arms, but that of a knightly order subordinate to them. Most likely, there''s a war criminal inside." "But why are they going to the commercial district?" "How should I know?" Dozens of voices echoed from the streets, creating a dull echo in the air. But the young man sitting inside, completely immersed in thoughts about his future, paid no attention to it. ===== An hour later The carriage, which had been traveling through the narrow streets all this time, began to slow down. "Get out," the guard ordered, opening the door. The cold wind that burst through the open door hit the face of the nervous young man. Gathering his strength, he took a step outside. In front of him stood a majestic, ancient, gloomy building. Dozens of torches poorly illuminated the vast courtyard, paved with stone slabs. Ivy climbed the walls, and gargoyles stood menacingly on the eaves of the gutters. Shadows danced on the arched windows, cast by the mysterious figures of the visitors. The noise of voices, interrupted by laughter and shouts, reached him, causing his legs to go numb. The carriage behind them moved away. They had arrived at the auction house. Auction While the blue-eyed young man was examining the ancient building, a man dressed in a tuxedo emerged from the servant''s exit. He was quite tall, with gray eyes. His main feature was his lush mustache. Despite his stately physique, the gray hair at his temples indicated his considerable age. "You were supposed to arrive half an hour ago," he said monotonously. "We sincerely apologize," the guard replied just as monotonously, making a slight bow. "Well, let''s not delay any longer. Please follow me," he said, gesturing away from the building. ===== Entering a small adjacent building, the young man was faced with a staircase. Thud. Thud. Thud. The echo of footsteps reverberated down the corridor, which seemed to stretch into the very abyss. Numerous shadows cast by the dim glow of wall candles moved elegantly, performing their beautiful dance on the stone walls. Suddenly, through the monotonous rhythm of footsteps, voices began to be heard one after another. As they approached the exit, the seeds of fear planted in the young man''s heart gradually entwined his soul. "What will happen to me? What did I do to deserve this? I need to run, but can I?" A whirlwind of chaotic thoughts raced through the innocent prisoner''s mind. But despite his thoughts, he moved forward. Step by step, dragging his leaden feet, he approached the voices. Each step felt like an eternity, and the shadows around him grew more sinister. Finally, they reached the end of the corridor. The man accompanying them opened a metal door. Before the young man lay a huge underground hall, stretching forward for several dozen meters. On either side of them were dozens of narrow cells filled with creatures of various races. Pointy-eared, covered in fur or scales, huge and small. And they were all prisoners. Those who, as one might guess, would soon be sold. A moment later, the pale young man was hit by the repulsive smell of excrement and soot from the wall torches. Creeeak... To the right came the sound of a door opening. Several men in quilted jackets stepped into the corridor. "Lock him in a separate cell. And be gentle with him, he''s special merchandise," the graying man ordered, pointing at the prisoner. Suddenly... Bang!!! The sound of a blow echoed. The black-haired young man, driven by adrenaline, took a desperate step, striking his guard in the face. While the guard was recovering, he dashed towards the exit. Slipping through the slightly open door, he ran up the stairs, but... Crack... A strange crackling sound came from behind him. A second later, a sharp pain pierced the young man''s back. He fell on the steps. His uncontrollable body experienced incredible pain, writhing from the dozens of spasms that gripped all his muscles. Several guards grabbed his twitching limbs and, dragging him a few dozen meters, threw him into a cell like a sack of garbage. ===== "That''s what the auction house looks like," said the blond man as he stepped out of the carriage. He looked to be about twenty-six years old. His bright green eyes, resembling two emeralds, reflected the flames of the wall torches dancing in the wind. He was of average height, quite slender but not overly so. Dressed in a tailcoat with a cloak draped over his shoulders, he headed towards the main entrance of the large building. With each step, the conversations of various people ahead grew louder and louder. As he passed through the entrance, an enormous hall came into view. A richly decorated crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room like a miniature sun, illuminating everything. Beautiful live music emanated from a platform on the second floor. Dozens of elegantly dressed people strolled on the marble floor, engaging in casual conversation about the upcoming auction, political changes, the war, or simply scandalous gossip. "Morris!" suddenly someone called out his name from the right. Turning towards the voice, he saw a slightly overweight man of about thirty-five, dressed in a slightly tight-fitting tailcoat.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. "I knew you would come. Did you really manage to get sponsors for this venture?" the man said as he approached with unexpected speed for his size. "Y-yes..." Morris replied, forcing a fake smile onto his face. "Damn it. I''ve put everything I have into this auction. If nothing pays off, those bureaucratic bastards will skin me alive!" the thought flashed through his mind. Indeed. This auction is a sheer gamble. Once, while passing by the director''s office, he overheard his boss talking to some unknown individuals. They were discussing the sale of a person who had no essence. But that''s inherently impossible! Whether it''s a person, an animal, a monster, a tree, or even stones¡ªeverything has essence! If something doesn''t have it, it disintegrates. That''s the absolute law of our world. Highly intrigued by this issue, Morris leaned against the door, hoping to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation. However, the unknown interlocutor, sensing something amiss, headed towards the door. Due to this mysterious person''s vigilance, Morris had to quickly retreat from his spying position. The next day he learned that a one-of-a-kind object with no essence would be up for auction. Realizing this was his chance to climb the career ladder, the blond man frantically began searching for people interested in sponsoring his idea. A few days passed, and finally, after finding investors, he arrived at the auction house. "Who responded to your idea?" the man asked, interrupting Morris''s train of thought. "Baron Larci and Viscount Laurette," came the immediate reply. "I see you have a talent... for finding trouble. Of all the nobles and merchants, you chose the worst. Haven''t you heard about their nature?" "I''ve heard, but I had no other choice. It''s worth the risk for such a chance, isn''t it?" "You''re right. But be careful. If nothing works out, our country will have one less young scientist," he said, then turned and walked away. "I know..." the young scientist muttered to himself and headed deeper into the hall. ===== Gong... Gong... Gong... The sound of a bell rang, signaling the start of the auction. The already lively crowd became even more excited, gradually converging towards the doors leading to the auction hall. Passing through the wide-open doors, the young scientist saw a magnificently decorated room. High ceilings with luxurious moldings and crystal chandeliers created an atmosphere of grandeur. In the center of the hall was a podium, where the auctioneer stood, actively conversing with his assistant and waiting for the guests to arrive. Morris, leaning against the wall, carefully examined the faces of potential buyers, which included both noble aristocrats and scientists, collectors, representatives of trade associations, and museums. His heart was filled with emotions: here, among all these people, he would have to fight for what could become the key to his research. As soon as the auctioneer raised his gavel, the hall fell silent in anticipation. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to welcome you at this joyous hour. Today we have unique lots for sale, each with its own history and unparalleled uniqueness. Let''s not waste any time. Our first lot is a rare manuscript from the Fourth Era, which is said to have belonged to one of the strongest mages of that time." Morris''s gaze sharpened on the podium when the manuscript was displayed. The pages, adorned with exquisite patterns and refined handwriting, gleamed in the chandelier''s light. The auctioneer continued: "The starting price is one thousand gold coins!" The hall buzzed, and the audience''s hands reached for their paddles. Morris, refraining from bidding, swallowed the lump in his throat. Due to limited finances, he couldn''t afford any extraneous bids. "One thousand one hundred¡ªwe have a bid! Who will offer more?" the auctioneer said, pointing to the participant with number forty-seven. "Three... two..." "One thousand two hundred!" the auctioneer interrupted the countdown and pointed to participant number twenty-three. "One thousand three hundred!" "One thousand five hundred!" After several rounds of bidding, the amount quickly soared to incredible heights. "Five thousand! Anyone willing to offer more?" the auctioneer asked. But this time, there was no response. "Five thousand once. Five thousand twice. Five thousand thrice... Sold to the gentleman with number forty-seven!" he exclaimed, pointing at the buyer. "And our next lot..." ===== An hour later. "Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please. Our next lot is absolutely unique. Until today, something like this has never appeared at an auction. This lot is a child from another world! A unique creature that possesses not even a drop of essence!" the auctioneer said loudly, stirring up the crowd. Tension filled the hall, as if everyone present knew that this was not just an item, but something more. The auctioneer walked around the podium and lifted the curtain, revealing a mysterious cage containing... a person. "The starting price is fifteen thousand!" the auctioneer announced, and whispers filled the hall. Some spectators began nervously glancing at each other, while others radiated excitement, preparing to bid for the enigmatic youth. Morris knew this was his chance. He raised his paddle but then noticed that other participants were also raising theirs with increasing enthusiasm. "Sixteen thousand once. Who will offer more?" the auctioneer continued, and the tension in the hall reached its peak. Each new bid raised the price sky-high, and soon the amount exceeded half a million. "Eighteen thousand," one of the participants, a famous collector, confidently raised his paddle, offering an astronomical sum. In response, Morris felt his heart skip a beat. Morris realized he had to act. He raised his paddle with determination, ready to risk everything to obtain this being. Inside him, a battle raged: his mind told him to stop, but the desire to seize this rare chance pushed him forward. "Eighteen thousand once!" the auctioneer said, not suspecting that a real battle would soon unfold. The crowd came alive, and the tension in the air became almost tangible. Morris felt cold sweat forming on his forehead. "Nineteen thousand!" he shouted, raising his paddle with near-fanatical persistence. Whispers of surprise filled the hall. The collector, hearing the counter bid, froze for a moment. His face contorted with anger, but he quickly composed himself and issued a challenge: "Twenty thousand!" Morris felt as if the ground was slipping from beneath his feet. The situation was becoming critical. He knew it was now or never. "Twenty-one thousand!" he said, trying to make his voice sound confident, although inside he was filled with fear and anxiety. "Twenty-five thousand!" the collector''s response thundered. Exclamations filled the hall, and all eyes turned to Morris. He couldn''t afford to back down, knowing this might be his only chance. "Twenty-six thousand," Morris raised the bid again. A moment of silence. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the response. The collector, clearly unhappy with the turn of events, nervously bit his lip. Finally, he raised his paddle, though not with enthusiasm. "Twenty-seven thousand," his voice sounded, though it was clear he was no longer as confident. "Thirty thousand!" Morris shouted desperately, as if challenging the entire hall. This time, there was no response. "Thirty thousand once. Thirty thousand twice. Thirty thousand thrice. Sold!" the auctioneer exclaimed, and Morris felt a wave of emotions wash over him. The crowd erupted into enthusiastic whispers and applause, but for him, time seemed to stand still. Fun experiments! The young man slowly opened his leaden eyelids. A sharp herbal scent hit his nose. He cast his blue eyes around the half-empty room, frantically trying to piece together the information with his current situation. "So... Where am I?" he asked himself as he tried to stand. CLINK The metallic clang cut through the surrounding silence. Looking down, he saw the shackles binding his wrists and legs again. In panic, he jerked, feeling the cold metal press against his skin. He tried to remember how he got here, but the only memory that flashed through his mind was the failed escape attempt. The room was dimly lit, with the only light source being an old, intricately carved metal lamp, which only heightened the feeling of oppression. Scattered papers lay on the table next to him, seemingly filled with notes. He reached out, but the shackles hindered him. "I need to get free," he thought, reaching for the table again. Every movement was difficult, but he knew he couldn''t remain in the dark. His eyes fell on one of the unfinished pages: scrawled in untidy handwriting were the words: "The subject, surprisingly, has no essence. For further experiments, the subject must regain consciousness." "What does that mean?" he whispered to himself, studying the scribbles. Suddenly, he heard footsteps behind the door. His heart raced, and he pressed against the wall, trying to blend in. The door opened slightly, and a male figure appeared in the doorway. "I see you''re awake," he said. "Wh-who are you?" "My name is Morris," he said with a slight smile, walking towards the prisoner. His face was unusually calm, his gaze wary. "Why am I here?" the young man blurted out. "I bought you," came the immediate reply. "You see... I believe you are the key to something big. A man without essence... ha-ha-ha-ha... it even sounds absurd," he continued, stepping closer. "How does your body even work? Does it use something else or just look like ours on the outside? Different muscle structure? Bones? Organs? Or something completely different?" The young man froze, listening to Morris''s words, his mind racing between fear and confusion. The questions multiplied, and panic grew. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. "What the hell are you talking about? What key? I''m just a person!" he said desperately. Morris squinted as if assessing him. "A person, yes. But you''re not quite ordinary. I observed you while you were unconscious. It''s remarkable how your body reacted to the simplest spell. The average person would be immobilized for only a few minutes, but you were out for several days." The young man gritted his teeth, trying to focus. "Essence... what even is that?" "A complex question. For most, it''s something internal, something that defines their life force, the link between body and soul," Morris leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The frightened young man backed away, pressing against the wall. "Don''t worry or resist, I won''t harm you. Well... as much as possible. After all, I bought you for a fortune, get it? It would be very disappointing if you broke," Morris said with a smirk. "Here. Drink this, and once our experiments are over, I''ll let you go," Morris said in a monotonous, calming voice, holding a small vial with a thick, dark green liquid. "What the hell is this?" "What difference does it make? Even if I tell you, you wouldn''t understand." "I''m not drinking this crap!" "Ugh... why is it so difficult with you? Isn''t cooperation something conceivable for you? This is in your best interest, why resist?" Morris muttered to himself, putting on black leather gloves. WHACK Turning, he grabbed the young man by the neck and slammed him against the wall. "Just drink this shit and don''t complicate my life," he said irritably, forcibly opening the young man''s mouth and pouring the dark green liquid in. Gulp Gulp Having no other choice, the young man drank the liquid. As soon as it hit his stomach, his terrified consciousness became muddled, everything blurred before his eyes, and an unpleasant ringing filled his ears. A second later, he collapsed, losing consciousness again. ===== "Damn it..." the pale young man said, opening his heavy eyelids. Glancing around with his hazy vision, he realized he was in a different room, lying on something like an operating table. His hands, legs, and torso were immobilized with tightly bound straps. "Oh... I see you''re finally awake," Morris said, standing in the corner, rummaging through some strange instruments. "You know, you were supposed to be paralyzed for only 10 minutes, but you were out for an hour. It''s fascinating how your body reacts to substances containing essence. An ordinary person fully recovers in just 10 or 15 minutes. Do you think I should reduce the dosage? Or change the composition? Must note this down!" he said, starting to rummage through a drawer. Pulling out a small but thick notebook, he began writing, speaking aloud: "Interaction of the subject with essence-containing substances leads to loss of consciousness. It is necessary to consider reducing the dosage or changing the components of the substance." "Let me go right now, you bastard!" the young man shouted, struggling to break free. "Of course! Just let me put away the notebook!" Morris said sarcastically, putting the notebook in his pocket and turning to the instruments, putting something on his hands. "Well then... let''s start our experiments!" he said, turning to the young man and baring his white teeth in a half-crazy smile. In his hands, covered in white gloves, gleamed a vial with a purple liquid. "Since your body shuts down when interacting with essence, let''s see what happens if we put its concentrate in you," he said, approaching and forcibly opening the young man''s mouth, pouring the liquid in. As soon as the insipid and viscous substance hit his stomach, his entire body was pierced with sharp pain. It felt as if countless tiny needles were stabbing every millimeter of his body, both inside and out. He writhed on the table, trying to cope with the excruciating spasms rising from the depths of his abdomen. Morris stood nearby, watching the young man''s reaction with curiosity. "Interesting reaction. Hm... I expected you to pass out when essence entered your body, but rejection? This is fascinating," he said with satisfaction. While his subject writhed on the table, Morris began jotting down his thoughts in the notebook again: "The subject''s body reacts to essence concentrate with severe pain and spasms. Instead of losing consciousness, a pronounced rejection is observed, opening new research possibilities." ===== A minute passed... the second, the third. Finally, the young man''s body stopped convulsing. "Well. For further research, we need to see the body''s reaction to restorative potions," Morris announced, pulling out a small vial with dark blue liquid. The young man wearily turned his head, looking towards his tormentor with tired, tear-filled eyes. "Don''t look at me like that. I don''t like this either, I''m doing it solely for scientific purposes," Morris said in an emotionless voice, pouring the potion into the young man''s mouth. The sweet-bitter liquid coursing down his throat marked the beginning of a new session of hellish pain. Fun experiments! Part 2 "AAARGHH!!!" ¡ª the scream of agony, turning into a rasp, pierced the silence like thunder. The young black-haired man writhed in convulsions on the surgical table. The skin on his wrists and ankles had long been worn away by the restraining straps. Blood smeared across his face, continuing to trickle from his nose. Once sapphire-like eyes had now dulled. Blood-filled and burst capillaries stained the once white sclera a bright red. Sweat droplets appeared on his previously white skin. Rolling down, they mixed with the blood, staining his already wet and not particularly clean clothes a deep red. "Ha...ha...ha..." ¡ª the young man''s tired, raspy breathing was heard. Unable to move his pain-exhausted muscles, he lay motionless. "It seems the effect of the restorative potion has worn off. So, how do you feel? Refreshed? Full of energy, ready to move mountains?" ¡ª Morris asked, seemingly unaware of the mockery in his question. The young man wearily turned his bloodshot eyes towards him. "Brrr... what a scary look," the blond man muttered to himself and turned to the table with instruments. Sorting through various tools, the man continued his monologue: "You know... watching you writhe is really depressing, don''t you think? And yet, deep down, I''m a very kind person. Like a teddy bear, you understand," he said, turning around, holding a clamp, which he waved around while speaking. "Goodness, you''re so gloomy. Cheer up! Both of us will feel better, time will fly by, the experiments will end, and bam! You''re free, like the wind on the plain! You can go anywhere! Just think about it, all you need to do is not resist," Morris continued his monologue, actively gesticulating ¡ª "What do you think? Have we reached an understanding?" Receiving only a threatening silence in response, Morris continued: "Well, okay, I''ll start. Umm... what''s your name? Your hobbies? Favorite food?" "I don''t have a name. I don''t remember," the young man replied, turning his gaze to the ceiling, staring at one point. "Hmm, that doesn''t sound very good. Well, we''ll deal with that later, but for now... look at the time! We''re behind schedule!" he exclaimed, quickly heading towards the makeshift operating table. In his hands gleamed a metal syringe. With one swift motion, he injected something into the young man''s arm. As soon as the dark green liquid spread through the young man''s bloodstream, his vision blurred, and any movement became incredibly difficult. Morris, watching his subject lose consciousness, smiled slightly.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "Amazing, isn''t it? This is a recently developed drug. It almost completely paralyzes the body without hindering vital processes," he said, as if it were the best show in the world. Despite the inability to move, dulled vision, smell, and hearing, his consciousness remained clear. Every cell of his body, against the backdrop of partial loss of other senses, vividly transmitted everything happening to his body. Suddenly, he felt a slight prick again. "Don''t worry, this is a painkiller. We don''t want you to die from shock, right?" Morris''s voice, full of anticipation, was heard. The unfortunate subject, with incredible difficulty, moved his unresponsive eyes towards his tormentor, only to see that he had already prepared a new tool ¡ª a long, sharp scalpel. Leaning closer, Morris looked into his eyes with curiosity. "Are you ready?" the phrase echoed in the young man''s ears just before sharp pain pierced his left arm again. With a precise movement, Morris made an incision on his subject''s bicep. Warm blood flowed from the freshly made wound. Making a few more cuts, he took out an unknown device and meticulously began to peel the skin, exposing the arm muscles. Completing this process and removing the blood, he revealed a perfectly visible surface of muscle fibers. Putting away the tools, taking out a notebook, and looking at the structure of the arm, he began to write, muttering to himself: ¡ª Externally, the muscle structure does not differ from normal representatives of our species. Further research requires a deeper analysis. He set aside the notebook and took up the tools again. Bringing the scalpel, he made another incision, the razor-sharp scalpel slicing through the flesh like a hot knife through butter. For the next hour, Morris separated the flesh layer by layer, delving deeper and deeper. Finally, almost reaching the bone, he separated several skeletal muscles and placed them in a specialized container. The black-haired young man, conscious throughout the entire ordeal, could neither scream nor move a single muscle. He could only endure this endless torture. Morris, taking tissue samples from the young man, began to restore his arm, using an unknown method to bind the muscle tissue. Finishing the work, he poured a dark blue liquid on the wound. The affected area was pierced by terrible pain, and the already shaky consciousness of the unwilling subject became even more muddled. The muscles, turned into a strange construct, began to heal, defying all logic, taking the correct position as they fused. The severed fibers reconnected, and blood flowed through the restored vessels again. After a few minutes, a new layer of skin covered the exposed flesh. There was no trace of the horrific wound. Meanwhile, Morris, placing the samples in a device resembling a microscope, continued his research. ¡ª Even more thorough research revealed no abnormalities. Maybe it''s all about the chemical composition? Or something else? According to the available data, muscle tissue can accumulate essence but cannot retain it? And here we are back at the beginning... a more detailed analysis is needed. Finishing his thought, he turned to the paralyzed young man. Piercing him with a sharp gaze, Morris began asking questions, talking to himself: "Why do you react to essence this way? Despite all this, the potions have a noticeable effect. Maybe the interaction occurs but differs from what we''re used to?" Returning to the samples and dropping a few drops of purple liquid on them, he continued his research. ¡ª When the essence concentrate interacts with muscle tissue, the latter starts to move. The frequency of sample contractions varies depending on the amount of essence consumed. Will the strength of the fibers increase proportionally to the amount of concentrate in contact? As soon as Morris came to this thought, his eyes gleamed with a strange light. Using a pair of medical tweezers, he began stretching the sample in different directions. After a few seconds, it was torn in half. ¡ª Hmm. This is interesting. The amount of force needed to tear the subject''s muscle tissues significantly exceeds that of the muscles of our world''s representatives. Is this a reaction to the interaction with the concentrate? Or a feature of this specific sample? Under normal conditions, such muscle tissue strength is characteristic of second-rank mages. Writing down his thought, Morris poured a small vial of purple liquid on the second sample. After waiting a few minutes, he repeated the same experiment. "It has indeed become stronger. The amount of force needed to achieve the same result increased by about three times. After a few dozen seconds, he repeated the experiment but waited about ten minutes before the final stage. "Fascinating! Compared to the previous result, the strength of the muscle tissues decreased by half! So they cannot retain essence for a long time," he exclaimed in an excited tone. "Well, my dear friend. Our experiments are suspended until tomorrow. You go rest, and I''ll conduct a few more small experiments and organize my notes," he said with a smile, approaching the young man. "Until tomorrow morning!" he said energetically and injected the syringe into his arm. After a few seconds, the young man''s consciousness drifted into sleep. Fun experiments! Part 3 In the corner of a dark, half-empty room sat a young man, chained to the wall. His lips were dry and cracked, and he had been staring at the same spot for hours without moving an inch. All this time, he had only one thought running through his mind: "I want to kill him. I want him dead. I''ll tear that bastard apart." Suddenly, footsteps were heard outside the door. "He''s coming," the prisoner thought. The heavy wooden door creaked open, and a blond man entered the room. "Hello! How are you? Everything okay?" "Screw you with those questions." The young man said monotonously, turning his lifeless gaze to Morris. "Please, don''t be so aggressive. Just a few more experiments, and it will all be over! You''ll be completely free, I''ll even give you some money!" The blond scientist smiled energetically. But in response, he received only a spit in his direction. "You know, that''s quite uncultured." Morris said, easily dodging. "Screw you." "We won''t come to a constructive dialogue. Well then... we''ll resort to violence." The scientist quickly approached the prisoner. Seeing this, the young man tried to lunge at him, but... Clink The movement was stopped by the chains, and he fell, hitting the floor. "The attempt was good, but the result is disappointing. What were you even hoping for?" Approaching closely, Morris pinned the stunned young man and injected something into his neck. "Good night, though you''ll only sleep for a few dozen minutes..." The monotonous phrase reached the young man as his consciousness plunged into darkness. ===== With unimaginable effort, the young man opened his eyes again, finding himself in the familiar room. Despite the high temperature of the room, a slight chill ran down his spine as memories of hellish pain resurfaced. The previously steady heartbeat seemed to plummet into a bottomless tunnel at the realization of his impending fate. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. "You''re already awake? That was faster than I expected." A slightly surprised but calm voice was heard from across the room. The bound prisoner turned his gaze towards the door, where Morris stood, already prepared for the upcoming procedure. His clean and tidy clothes were covered by a white lab coat. Turning his head towards the young man, he slowly and methodically wiped a shiny scalpel with a damp cloth. "Well, are you ready? Let''s start quickly, I received a letter from Baron Larci this morning. The deadlines have been shortened, idiots. And catching your scorching gaze is not a pleasant experience." Muttering something monotonously to himself, he placed the scalpel on the table with a light thud. Taking a syringe and a small vial filled with a clear liquid, he began to fill it. "How I hate those clueless bureaucrats. I wonder if those idiots understand anything besides spending money?" Cursing emotionlessly, he approached the young man. The latter, frozen in anticipation of what was to come, silently watched Morris. The scientist, paying no attention, quickly and lightly injected the liquid. As soon as it entered the young man''s bloodstream, he felt weak and gradually lost the ability to move. Judging by the effects, it''s the same thing he injected me with yesterday. Damn, I can''t even move a finger, let alone my whole body. Just give me one chance. Just one chance, and I''ll tear you apart. While the young man lay on the surgical table, thinking about what he would do to Morris, the latter took his small notebook and began jotting down his thoughts: "Today we will conduct a more thorough autopsy, examine your inner world, so to speak... bad joke... Oh well." Letting go of his failed joke, he closed his notebook and got to work. The almost complete silence of the room was pierced by the sound of cutting flesh. Morris, working at a rather hurried pace, made a horizontal incision in the young man''s abdomen. He opened the wound with a retractor and began to remove the blood. After finishing this task, he set the tools aside and quickly wrote something down. Scribbling something on a sheet, he looked back at the wound. "Externally, nothing differs from the accepted norms, at least this part of you." For the next hour, he continued the autopsy, simultaneously collecting samples. After reassembling the young man, Morris began conducting experiments. He compressed and stretched the samples, examined them under a microscope, injected them with essence in all its forms, but nothing. In addition, the scientist conducted experiments with various chemicals ¡ª tissue reactions, their interactions, consequences. Once, something even burned. However, judging by his reaction, that was not the expected result. Thus, the next few hours passed. "This is bad... but it''s okay. Who said finding something is easy? Surely there is some unique organ, gland, or something else in other parts of his body. Yes, that''s right, I just need to look elsewhere. Why am I panicking?" With these words, Morris resumed his bloody work. Hour after hour, day after day passed. Once, he decided that the issue was in the bone structure, and, reaching the femur, partially shattered it in a couple of places. Later, analyzing the samples taken, he found nothing again. Another day, the scientist wanted to dissect the young man''s lung. After working on it for many hours, he found nothing, only wasted time. Thus, day after day, he examined the young man''s body. Heart, liver, second lung, intestines, spine, nerves, circulatory system, skin cells, muscles, bones ¡ª everything. "There''s nothing!" the enraged scientist shouted, scattering papers ¡ª "There''s nothing even in your blood! How is that possible?! You''re not from this world... not from this reality... So why!?" His eyes narrowed, and he finally realized: he was looking for the wrong thing. Maybe he wasn''t an anomaly from a biological standpoint but differed in something else. "Of course! Your soul! How could I forget about that? I''m a damn genius! Hahaha..." Extremely excited, the scientist ran to a separate cabinet. Throwing open its doors, he began rummaging: "Where are you... where are you? Ah, here!" Throwing out the sheets inside, he pulled out a small black box. Click... the latch made a characteristic sound. The opened lid revealed a small blue stone to Morris. On it, like a work of art from the stone ages, dozens of symbols and patterns were engraved, forming a single system ¡ª a formation. "I knew you''d come in handy. It wasn''t for nothing that I bought you at the auction two years ago! And everyone kept saying ¡ª ''Why do you need a soul stone? They''re almost useless'' ¡ª well, screw you!" Taking the stone, Morris began drawing a septagram on the young man''s body with his own blood. Drawing disgustingly beautiful runes at its ends and placing the stone in the center, he began muttering something under his breath. At the end of the chant, it glowed a light blue. "Hahaha! It''s working!" Morris said, just as an explosion occurred, showering his face with shards and knocking him onto his back. "What!? No! No! No!" Completely ignoring the wounds on his face and chest, he quickly got up. His eyes immediately fell on the horrifying injury where the septagram had been. The restraining straps were torn, and there was no trace of the stone. Any normal person would have vomited at the sight, but the scientist, loudly cursing, began quickly rummaging through the numerous flasks and bottles in a special compartment of his table. Finding the right bottle containing a pale white liquid, he opened it and poured its contents on the young man''s wound. It began to heal as if by magic, and after a few dozen seconds, there was no trace of the wound. Completely forgetting about any safety precautions, Morris began examining his subject. "No, no, please, he''s not dead, right?! Damn it, he''s not breathing!" But suddenly, the young man woke up and attacked Morris. With a sharp blow to the face, he knocked him to the ground. And, pinning him down, he grabbed the scientist''s neck and began to strangle him. Morris, in a futile attempt to free himself, started hitting the young man in the face and writhing. The young man''s fingers dug deeper into Morris''s neck, leaving bloody streaks. But he continued to press down with his pain-ridden body. Bright red capillaries appeared in the eyes of the suffocating scientist, and his face began to turn blue, blood flowing from under the fingers. A few seconds later, a weak crunch was heard, and the spark of life in Morris''s once-lively eyes gradually faded. All resistance ceased, and breathing stopped. The young scientist was dead. Plans Under the influence of strong emotions, the dark-haired young man continued to squeeze the lifeless body of the scientist. Several minutes passed. Finally, when the storm of emotions inside him subsided, he pulled away from the corpse. "Ha..ha... the bastard is dead. Ha-ha... got what he deserved, damn scientist." Greedily inhaling the damp air, smelling of a mixture of blood and herbs, he began to carefully examine the room. His gaze stopped at the table where Morris mixed his potions and stored his tools. "There must be something useful for me there." The young man thought that the tools or potions stored there would help him escape the city. Sorting through dozens of vials one by one, he kept coming across the same substances that Morris had used on him. The sight of them made his skin crawl, and a slight shiver ran down his spine. As he took out the items that caught his eye, a thought crossed his mind that all of this probably required special storage conditions. Taking out the last vial of restorative potion, he looked around the room again. Approaching the cabinet from which Morris had previously taken the strange stone, he began searching for any records or books about potions. Initially, the young man assumed this would take quite a bit of time, but to his surprise, the scientist had conveniently organized and titled all his records. After spending several dozen minutes, he found nothing about potion storage methods. "It can''t be that simple. For any product to be stored forever in an ordinary glass vial is nonsense." Remembering that Morris was clearly not a novice in his field, the young man assumed that there must be old records somewhere from his early days. The first thing that comes to mind is a home library. At the very least, an office, a simple workspace, or a bedroom. The young man was about to leave the room but remembered one insignificant, barely noticeable detail ¡ª the corpse in the middle of the room. "Damn... what am I going to do with you?" Making a quick decision that Morris''s remains needed to be moved at least, he approached the corpse. Overcoming a bit of disgust at the sight of the scientist''s frozen face, the young man grabbed him by the legs and dragged him to the side. Reaching the corner of the room, he released his grip, and the characteristic sound of something heavy hitting the floor was heard. Finally, leaving the room, he thought: "Where am I right now? Did he live in a private house or an apartment? No, he couldn''t conduct such experiments in an apartment, maybe it''s a separate laboratory? Whatever, it doesn''t matter to me." Orange light, reflected from the bright full moon, poured in through the windows lining the entire corridor. Along the relatively short path, various paintings adorned the walls. There were landscapes, portraits, still lifes, creating the impression of being in an art gallery. Seeing a door ahead, the young man stopped admiring the decor and quickened his pace.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. Behind the door, which opened with a characteristic creak, was an ordinary guest room. A regular double bed, nightstands on either side, a wardrobe, an untouched vanity with a fairly large mirror, a carpet. Losing interest immediately, the young man continued on his way. Encountering several more almost identical rooms, including Morris''s own room where he apparently only slept, he reached the end of the corridor. Surveying the fairly wide wooden staircase and the spacious area in front of it, he began to descend slowly. The stairs creaked under his steps, and each sound echoed through the presumably empty house. He stopped halfway, listening to the silence, searching for the slightest sound that might indicate someone else was in the house. But besides his own breathing and the faint rustle of old boards, nothing disturbed the night''s tranquility. Continuing to descend, the young man finally found himself in a spacious room on the lower floor. By a large window stood a black piano, which, judging by its appearance, was regularly used. Against the far wall stood a long lacquered table made of dark brown wood, with a fruit dish in the center creating a typical and unremarkable composition. A cabinet with glass doors next to the table contained a crystal set and several half-empty containers on a separate shelf. To the right of the carpet lying in the center of the room and covering the parquet was a large double door. On either side of it stood two lamps, and on the wall hung a portrait of a mustached man. He was dressed in luxurious, colorful attire and seemed to pierce anyone who visited this place with his haughty gaze. ===== The young man spent quite a bit of time examining the entire first floor. In the left wing of the house was the living room with the portrait of the haughty man. In the right wing was the dining room, from which one could access the kitchen. A separate area in the right wing was the entrance to the basement, where the room in which Morris kept the young man was located. Finally, after inspecting his place of confinement, the young man faced the last room on the first floor. Unlocking another double door, he found himself in another spacious room. The dim moonlight falling from the windows barely illuminated the high shelves filled with various books and antique furniture. In the center of the room stood a massive table with maps, heavily used atlases, and books left on it, as if someone had just left without finishing their work. He walked past the tables, ignoring the unclear notes, and headed towards the bookshelves. Quickly scanning the titles, the young man realized he would spend a lot of time here. Unlike the previously read records, which the now-dead scientist had conveniently sorted, the hundreds of books filling the library were in complete disarray. Astronomical maps, encyclopedias, collections of works on biology, scientific papers by various authors covering all sorts of scientific fields, novels, and even a few cookbooks. One look at all this could make most ordinary people dizzy, including him. "How is it even possible to create such chaos?" Quietly grumbling and accepting his daunting fate, the young man began sorting through all this paperwork in search of the necessary information. Barely opening his sleepy eyes, the young man, lying on the couch, looked around the room. It was in even greater disarray than yesterday, with books scattered all over the floor, a significant portion of the shelves empty, and two small maps and a rather thin book neatly stacked on the table. Raising his stiff body after sleep, he began to recall the events of the previous night. After spending hours selecting the necessary books and initially reviewing them, he lay down on the couch hoping to rest a bit, but, unnoticed by himself, he slept through the entire night. Approaching the table, he glanced at the neatly placed maps and book. The map of the Western Continent, the Ignis Empire, and "Basics of Creating and Storing Low-Rank Potions." Taking one of the maps, the young man began to read it. The Western Continent was a vast asymmetrical territory. Its southern part consisted of several large peninsulas. In the east and northeast were numerous small islands filling the entire space, thousands of kilometers long, in front of its jagged coast. The western part of the center and the west itself was occupied by a vast desert, separated from all other places by a massive mountain range. The north was a mountainous wasteland. The northeast, east, and south were occupied by three currently warring and bordering states, several principalities, and small kingdoms serving as buffer states. The Kingdom of Vjorn and the Ignis Empire were located close to each other, sharing the northeastern lands. "The war zone is where their borders meet... so I need to go in the opposite direction." After quickly examining the map, the young man rolled it up and put it in the pocket of his tattered pants. Taking the book on potion-making, he headed to the kitchen, intending to eat something. The heavy wooden door opened with a slight creak. The young man, buried in the book, was about to step inside, but... "AAAAAAH!" ¡ª a piercing female scream hit his ears. City AAAAAAAH! A loud female scream pierced the previously quiet, empty house. She was an ordinary middle-aged woman. Not particularly tall, slightly plump. Her face was unremarkable¡ªsoft, slightly full features, brown eyes, dark chestnut hair tied in a bun. She wore a simple black maid''s dress. There was nothing more to say about her. "Thief! Here! Thief!" Continuing to scream, she grabbed a nearby knife and pointed it at the young man. He, in a stupor, just stared at the gleaming blade. A second passed... another... Bam! Snapping out of his daze, the young man slammed the door shut with a deafening bang and ran. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his soul was pierced by a cold blade of fear. Reaching the hallway and unable to stop in time, he crashed into the door. He yanked the handle several times, but it didn''t turn. The door was locked. With no other choice, he ran towards the nearest open window. He was about to escape when suddenly... Crash! A porcelain vase shattered loudly right above his head. Turning, he saw the maid, who had regained her composure, standing in the doorway holding a large axe. "Stop, you bastard!" she shouted, threatening him. With a sharp movement, he darted to the right and fled through the nearest open passage. Reaching the main hall and running up the stairs, he dashed to the first window he saw. The beautiful, ornate arched window shattered into pieces as his body collided with it. Rolling across the roof tiles of the first floor, the young man fell to the ground, nearly breaking his neck. Picking up his aching and glass-scratched body, he ran away. Slightly staggering, he entered the first alley he saw and disappeared into the labyrinth of the morning city. ===== "Ha...ha...ha..." ¡ª the young man, slowly stepping barefoot on the stone, dirty road, tried to calm his wildly beating heart. "They say a morning run is good for you, but why do I feel so bad? Ha..." ¡ª slowly exhaling, he began to look around. Tall stone buildings stretched into the distance, forming a narrow street that extended for kilometers ahead. Poorly dressed people emerged from their homes. Walking along the dusty road, they formed groups, hurrying to work together. At the curbs, kiosks, shops, and private businesses offering various services opened, taking up pieces of the already limited space. Taking one last look around, the young man continued on his way. ===== The number of people kept increasing. The young man, trying to determine the approximate time, looked into the space between the rooftops.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Bam! Bam! Bam! Cutting through the hum of the excited crowd, a thunderous bell rang out. Turning towards the sound, he quickly walked forward. Finally, after pushing through the mass of people and passing through several dark alleys, he found himself in a dark tunnel ending in bright light, revealing an arch adorned with various patterns. Through the passage, which stretched many meters high, golden rays of the morning sun shone, illuminating the shadowed streets. Passing through the structure that seemed to divide the lower and upper worlds, the young man emerged into a vast square. In its center was an intricate fountain made of white marble. At its peak stood an incredibly detailed statue of a well-built man. His body was wrapped in an elaborate toga, and his head was hidden by a deep hood that covered most of his face, revealing only his mouth. In his outstretched hand, he held a strange, slightly glowing golden orb. Behind him stood a colossal Gothic cathedral. Its entrance was an enormous tower from which the bell tolls emanated. Behind it, a richly decorated dome rose more than a hundred meters above the ground. In front of the gates, a multitude of parishioners who had heard the thunderous bell gathered. Admiring the magnificence of Ignis architecture, the young man ducked into the nearest alley, not wanting to stay in such a crowded place. ===== "Seventy copper ducats." A balding man of about forty-five placed a book on the table and looked at the young man. "I won''t give you more for it." "Is that a lot?" The young man glanced at the few banknotes lying to the right of the book and then looked back at the trader. The man, slightly surprised, raised an eyebrow and said: "Quite decent, though you don''t have much choice." "Alright, I''ll take the money." "Good." Taking the money, the young man quickly left the pawnshop he had found earlier, which was an ordinary two-story building. The shop of the balding man was located on the first floor. Once outside, the young man slowed his pace and walked forward leisurely, holding a few banknotes in his hand. Evening was gradually approaching, probably around six o''clock. The previously bright sky was covered with leaden clouds. In the distance, several factories spewed an enormous amount of black smoke from their chimneys, further depriving the already cloud-covered city of light. His gaze slid over the old buildings, some of which clearly needed repairs. Their stone walls were covered with light cracks, and metal structures began to rust from constant exposure to the damp air and steam emitted by the nearby factories. The faces of passersby were gloomy, as if this world had long ceased to offer them anything good. They walked, barely noticing each other, absorbed in their own concerns. Some hurried home, others glanced at shop windows selling various trinkets, while others trudged aimlessly, barely lifting their feet, towards the nearest pub. The young man reached one of the old buildings he had noticed earlier. A small sign with the name hung by the door. "Noisy Barkas" He slowly approached, pushed the door, and stepped inside. The room was brightly lit by gas or kerosene lamps. The air was filled with the smell of hops and fried food. Dozens of men were already sitting at tables, drinking liters of beer and laughing loudly. Several waitresses quickly moved between the tables, taking orders and serving food. Reaching the counter, the young man looked at the menu board. It featured dozens of names of various unknown dishes. Pointing at random, he addressed the young woman of about twenty-five standing behind the counter: "Northern Duo" She quickly glanced at him and monotonously said: "Thirteen coppers." "And what''s in it?" he asked, taking out a bronze-colored note. "Sausages, beans, and beer," the girl said indifferently, handing over some coins. About ten minutes later, his order was served. On a rather large round tray lay several sausages in sauce. To the right of them was a large portion of beans, emitting an incredible aroma of spices, creating a symphony that tantalized the taste buds. As soon as the young man bit into the browned sausage, juice spread through his mouth, bringing a bright taste of meat perfectly complemented by a blend of unknown spices in the dish. Greedily taking a second bite, he moved on to the beans. Their tender flavor wonderfully complemented the brightness of the meat''s spices, sending the hungry young man''s mind to heaven. He leaned back in his chair and relaxed, sipping the beer, feeling it quench his thirst and clear his mind with a cold stream. The dull conversations, laughter, and clinking of plates and glasses still echoed in his ears, while a couple of men argued heatedly about some lady in the background. The sound of the door opening interrupted the semblance of an idyll reigning in the tavern. In the doorway appeared a rather tall man. On his head was a worn black tricorn hat. His face was partially covered by a dirty piece of dark cloth. A once-white shirt was visible under his unbuttoned cloak. At his waist rested an elegant saber adorned with intricate carvings. Despite the sudden silence, he calmly entered. The click of his high boots'' heels pierced the quiet. Reaching the counter, he slowly sat down, placing his hands on the table, and addressed the barmaid, ordering a beer.