Ink looked forward to the return of the archdemon with a slight impatience, but this did not stop him from looking at the book on the altar. It was filled with many bright scarlet characters. They were painted not just with paint, because they shone and shimmered. The earthy-gray pages seemed dry, dry to the touch, and smelled of fine foliage. Ink furtively tried to tear one of the sheets, but they were surprisingly strong.
On the advice of the archdemon, Ink tried to send a thread of consciousness inside the Talmud, and this yielded an amazing result. It looked like he was in a special space. Part of it was occupied with letters floating in the air. They were grouped in piles and differed in the type of "ink". One way or another, all were of a scarlet hue, but flaming words of an unknown language coexisted with smooth-looking silhouettes. For himself, Ink decided to consider them separate chapters or different topics in the content of the grimoire.
"Perhaps, different ways of using forces require different" moods "of energy? Thought Ink . "Or is it an illustration of the effect for those who do not understand the language?"
He was still afraid of touching letters.
In the far part of the space several blots were revealed. In their coloration, they strongly resembled the threads of the archdemon consciousness, so it was not difficult for Ink to guess their nature . After making sure that one of the demons was nearby, he tried to catch the "blot" with threads of consciousness with hooks, and immediately regretted it.
Contact with a particle of consciousness of the archdemon turned out to be like dipping a finger into concentrated acid. The appendage of the mind Ink simply melted to a frightening hissing sound. In addition, it was very painful. The pain did not abate for some time. Ink saw that the sickle of his "defense" remained inside the blot, which made the archdemon particle suffer a certain amount of suffering. "Blot" twitched, trembled and faded, like a fallen sheet on a record with accelerated playback.
"I didn't think that a sickle from a memory with a feeling of regret could damage a piece of archdemon's consciousness so much," the sight was shocking for Ink a. "It is normal for a person to suffer from contact with a part of a dangerous and powerful creature, but to injure him ... I never expected that." In any case, how can I drag them into the brains of these demons? "
The problem seemed insoluble. There was nothing left but to wait for the return of the archdemon. Ink U seemed like about an hour had passed. The expectation turned into torture, and he began to study the changes in his appearance. We managed to deal with everything surprisingly quickly. His body became larger, but remained half-illusory. White energy spilled out, but turned out to be connected by the finest threads of the force field. Ink himself could never get to make them so small. After analyzing what he saw, he came to the conclusion that this became possible due to the viscosity acquired by the energy. Particles of energy clung to them and scattered. As a result, the force field was stretched, but not destroyed.
Under the outer layer of a fake body, he noticed with his threads of consciousness his real body. The wings turned out to be created by the same principle, but there was very little white energy in them. The substitute for it was the dust from the so admired Kiass and ore. The feathers of black color were light separately, but together gained considerable weight. Ink tried to stimulate matter in the mind world with parts of forgotten memories, but the attempt failed. He tried to dispel his new look in order to absorb white energy and suffered another defeat.
By the time the archdemon's face appeared in a luminous spot above the fragment of the column, Ink no longer knew what to do with himself.
"Hold on," the blackhorn looked unusually serious. An object appeared in the stain in the form of a large, with the fist of an adult, egg. It was shrouded in a whirlwind of the familiar scarlet-colored energy. The package hung in a light spot and very slowly sank, gradually increasing in size. "It will take you a long time." The distance from the seventh world is great.
"And I ..." Ink thought about the prospects, "can I get into the seventh world through this spot right away?"
"No," the archdemon shook his head regretfully. "If it were possible, I would immediately suggest that you do so." A living creature cannot pass through this channel. If the grimoire had not been created from special materials, it would have turned to dust at the beginning of the journey. Apart from me, not one other inhabitant of the entire continent of Darmard is able to stretch its threads of consciousness even a third of this path. Otherwise, why would I do all this personally?
- By the way, about the threads of consciousness ...
Ink explained the difficulties he had with the "blots" without touching upon the weakening of the affected part of the archdemon's consciousness. Blackhorn only waved it off, advising him to study the techniques left by him in the grimoire.
With some apprehension, Ink again entered consciousness into the book of the archdemon. He touched one cluster of symbols and knowledge of
barrier printing technique
with a number of explanations on its use. The essence of the method was to use energy to create special structures. There were several dozens of ways to arrange the flow of power, allowing you to get "walls" and only four gave a pair of "lock / key".
Ink decided for himself that this was a kind of magic safe. It could be done separately, or it could be tied to a certain material object.
"If you put such a barrier on a real safe, you can avoid its robbery by spirits. On the other hand, even those who leak into the vault will not be able to disburse money and take out the jewels ... Useless improvement is obtained. But why did the blackhorn shove it here for his wards? Maybe to protect against espionage? Locking consciousness? I hope I can use it advantageously ... "
The second part of Ink a's training was flaming letters. They trained to transform energy into a kind of flame. This time it became clear that the letters do not flow into the mind, but create some kind of vibration. In the emptiness of the space of the grimoire, it could not be transmitted anywhere, but as soon as the symbols touched the thread of consciousness, trembling sent straight to the mind. It was these vibrations that created a picture in the brain that was a copy of the information in the book.
"Mind is like papyrus, but ink ... Are these emotions? - Ink marveled at the discovery. - From vibrations, weak flashes of emotions and images arise. Their union ultimately creates knowledge ... Like DNA and genes. Separately, they mean little, but together describe the human body, even partly in character and habits. Then information is also a kind of energy being. Reading it, a person not only perceives the environment, but because of this he experiences a certain impact and the picture depicting his mind itself changes. Little by little, imperceptibly, turning ... into someone else? - Ink even froze for a moment at the thought. - Well, nonsense ... So I'll even think of the fact that just reading an art book turns a person into a clone of a non-existent being, and some master can pour simple ink on the paper's papyrus to make someone he wants from another person, using a set of chains of emotions and images ... "
Ink thought it was stupid, but some latent apprehension remained with him.
"Damn, I'll create a phobia from scratch as well"
Self-irony somewhat helped to cope with the surging excitement. Only now, Ink noticed that the transfer of knowledge about the technique of creating fire was interrupted. He calmed down and continued to study techniques in a grimoire one after another.
Illusory flame
it made it possible to heat something, but in reality there was no burning process. The fire was simply an illusion due to the energy loss of the "special effects." The highest level of mastery of the technique suggested the absence of an external manifestation of flame.
Voice of consciousness
had many uses. Touching the threads from the light of the mind turned out to be very dangerous. In the absence of control, it was possible to hurt the weaker by accident or to receive a deadly attack from the enemy. Ink remembered his condition after the first "meeting" with the black-footed one and decided to master this method the very first, especially since it was he who needed to move the "blot" into the consciousness of large, but stupid demons. The technique made it possible to communicate without touching the strands of consciousness, act on energy structures at some distance from the ends of the web of the mind, write information in specially structured materials like the grimoire itself, and read it with less risk to the mind. There were also methods of studying the environment "by touch." All this could be achieved by vibration of the thread of consciousness, around which distortions were created by the protection and the instrument at the same time. The component methods turned out to be simple and complex at the same time.
"If the cobwebs of the mind were fingers, then this technique is gymnastics to increase their mobility, the basics of writing and safety. Because of curiosity, children can jerk a finger sharply and dislocate it. I myself am now, as a child, in everything that concerns the cinema. The transition through the steps of development is simply awareness of the presence of hands and feet, ears, nose, tongue, but inability to use them. "
A special skill in the technique of the voice of consciousness was call, but in the grimoire he was indicated as a dangerous action with a risk of attracting a predator of the mental layer of the world. Incorporeal consciousnesses were very useful for various things, but insufficiently strong summoners were guaranteed to die in their teeth. Ink did not want to become a vegetable , so he clearly remembered all the actions for the call, so that he would not accidentally apply it. The highest level of development was to direct it to a specific creature. With the exception of the goal, no one will notice fluctuations in the field of consciousness. The grimoire even provided a method for using the call as a radar. The only problem is that the person found in this way is aware of the touch of the mind. Secretly knowing the position of a person by call will not work.
The remaining letters revealed the method of "softening" the body of the demon to absorb part of the body of another creature. This required a special change in consciousness, without which it was impossible to achieve resonance with residual energy in a foreign body. In order to "digest" a part of someone else's body and make it yours with maximum benefits, you had to partially turn your victim. From here the obsession method also developed. Part of the demon's mind went into a strange body and mimicked under it, and then drop by drop changed the alien way of thinking in order to match the original light of the demon's mind. As a result, the demon came and swallowed the alien body without any problems.
"That's why he needs them ..." Ink realized . - These demons will pass through the worlds and gain some special skills. After arriving in the seventh world, they will become parts for the blackhorn and make it stronger. It is worth following these creatures. Even if the archdemon considers certain skills useful enough, then it would be nice for me to study them. You just need to find a way to monitor ... "
Ink managed to copy all the letters when the package from the seventh world finally arrived. With a light pop, the remnants of the archdemon's energy were dispelled. The object really turned out to be an egg. Through the transparent walls a beast was visible.
"Some kind of baby dinosaur ..." Ink touched the egg, and it disappeared. "I didn't destroy him?"
Something was wrong ... Focusing on the feeling of wrongness, Ink found himself in that layer of the world of reason where he had previously wandered with the help of the grain planted by Michaelon. In a void with floating pieces of "something" of different colors, two things stood out: a golden figurine of lyrs and an egg with a dinosaur.
Sparks of different colors from last time became somewhat brighter.
"It seems they have swallowed up the white mass that I threw at them," Ink speculated . - Last time I couldn't think clearly, looking around this place, but now I see that there are exactly nine of these strange "stars". The golden humanoid figure is the tenth, and the egg of the energy being is the eleventh. "
Ink wanted to start the experiment, but was not sure of the result, so he decided at first to practice the delivery of the "blot" to the minds of demons. He quickly found out that from the grimoire, particles of the archdemon's consciousness can only be transported to its light. Ink categorically did not want to allow such a thing . First, it occurred to him to leave instructions for the demons in the grimoire so that they would not disconnect the strands of the mind until they received a "blot", but the idea failed.
All attempts to leave a message in the book of Blackhorn were as fruitful as picking granite with a finger. Whether the problem was a lack of strength or the absence of a special tool, Ink still could not solve the problem, so he moved on to the auxiliary plan.
In a voice of reason, he called the demon to the wreckage of the column, and then stretched his thread of consciousness to the grimoire through their mind. The sensations were vile, but the demons did not resist and dutifully accepted the "blots". Their very world of reason turned out to be primitive. They did not lay out in several layers, like the contents of Ink a's consciousness , but looked like a sieve. How they could have something in their memory lingered remained incomprehensible. The reason for this was found quickly.
The cobwebs of the mind did not concentrate near the lamp, but dispersed throughout the giants' body.
"If my dream spreads out in a grid, I don't think anything, and their situation is even more complicated. There is probably nothing left except instincts. "
Ink did not try to read the memory of the demons. He simply took advantage of the voids in their heads. The place in which his memories were sealed - the interlayers between the accumulations of glass-like substance - was completely empty in these creatures. What it affects Ink could not even imagine.
"In any case, it's on my hand ... Why should they stretch the strands of consciousness throughout the body? It helps me control my abilities. Does this mean that every part of their body should receive this kind of control? If he is gone, then ... what will happen? They will not be able to move normally? Or will their skin become less firm? "
Periodically, one or the other demon fell into a riot. Ink saw an evil tall creature pounding stones and breaking them into pieces. At first he even wanted to try to copy their ability, but then he remembered that even a simple touch on someone else's thread of the mind could lead to sad consequences. He had no desire to risk even more.
Healthy "blots" hissed irritably and quickly sent Ink's consciousness out of his new receptacle. The particle of the mind of the archdemon that suffered in the collision with him behaved more modestly. She barely moved, but thanks to this she was able to examine in detail the process of mimicry. Information from the grimoire has become much clearer.
"If I had the same particle of reason, I would be able to make one of the demons my" preparation "for gaining strength. Unfortunately, the method of their creation was not indicated in the grimoire ... "
Ink wondered why there was any information about obsession.
"It seems strange, but if you pay attention to the method," blots "should be placed in a strictly established place of the mind. Without this information, I would not be able to cope with the task so quickly, and the demons themselves are too dumb ... Blackhorn cannot carry out the process itself. So he was sure that he would find an assistant for himself in this small world ... or he had already found it, and sent a grimoire specially for him. Did their deal not take place? Or did I just turn up on time? - Ink began to worry, but could neither confirm nor deny many of his assumptions. "The only thing I can be sure of is that I should be careful!"
The archdemon again disappeared somewhere, so Ink went down the hill, but did not go to his comrades. Their cave was formed right in this hill, a kind of altar of the archdemon in a small world. There could be other caves along the perimeter.
"I'll find a safe place, rest and try to copy the structure of the energy being in a golden figure"
Going around the hill, Ink began to lose patience, not finding a single cave or other shelter. From the opposite end, looking like a huge slab of rocky hill, a real surprise awaited him. There was not just shelter - Ink was met by the ruins of the temple. The structure was reminiscent of an ancient Greek architecture product. The ribbed columns - one of the fragments of which probably served as a stand for the grimoire of the archdemon - propped up the triangular roof. Behind the outer row of stone pillars one could see the walls of the room. In the depths of the dark, but small - only thirty steps - premises, Ink saw a stone throne.
Released strands of consciousness helped to see clearly the environment without any light sources. Ink trained to use voice of consciousness feeling the surroundings. It bore fruit - a pattern in the form of a triple spiral was discovered to the left of the entrance. Near the entrance to this temple, nothing alarming was found - stones, dust, desolation.
Ink crouched behind a fragment of a column so that he could not be immediately noticed at the entrance. Immersion in the right layer of the mind took longer than expected - excitement prevented focus.
The dark space gave joyful anticipation, and the golden man and the energy creature in the egg beckoned to receive new strength soon.
"How can I call here the processes of the Klata function? - Ink tried to imagine the appearance of "grain", mentally ordered him to leave, but this did not help. The effect appeared only after playing in the memory sound with which metal-like bands oscillated. "Finally appeared!"
Ink mentally directed the oscillating appendages to a human-like bunch of golden energy. They gradually absorbed into the luminous lump, dissolved in it. It filled Ink's heart with joy and peace.
The sound of cod came unexpectedly. Ink looked at the lines covering the egg and felt himself awakened from sleep.
"Why didn't I think it could be dangerous before?" - He felt a cold in his body and almost lost touch with this space in his mind. - What will happen when it hatches? Why here? Why now?"
Panic began to overwhelm Ink , because he realized one thing very clearly - the first thing newborn animals are looking for food. There was no good hen for this baby, there was nothing but the consciousness of the involuntary Ink Ubator of this creature. Words about the danger of mental beings in a grimoire left no illusions about the further development of the situation. Nekstati remembered the parasitic creatures ...
"I have to kill him first!"
Ink began to attack even before this thought finally took shape in his head. The threads of the light broke through the cracks and began to tremble violently. Everything that was known to him about the receptions of the voice of consciousness went into effect. The creature inside began to plaintively squeak and kick. A piece of shell fell off. Ink went mad and threw all his strength just to prevent the creature from escaping. Another squeak and creation literally attracted a golden man along with grain.
The shell scattered completely ...
From a small likeness of Triceratops a bright golden light emanated. Ink fluttered the strands of light so hard that he felt "numbness" in them. The creature screamed triumphantly. In the little evil eyes, Ink saw his sentence. Threads of grain began to spread through the body of the enemy.
Another sharp cry scared Ink and even more.
"Wait ... It screams in pain!"
In the heart of Ink a hope flashed. He tried to move his cobwebs of reason, but they hardly moved. The creature continued to scream, twitch in an attempt to tear off the tentacles of grain. Ink noticed that on the forepaws of the creature are five fingers resembling human fingers. Thick animal claws were fearsome, but they didn't stop the mini dinosaur from clutching the bands of the Klata function in its palms, pulling them and trying to break them.
Ink was ecstatic as he watched the suffering of a small energy being. Each compassionate scream was a delight for his ear, every shuddering of the calf - gave excitement and inspiration, every flicker of a golden radiance - a desire to scream with delight. Because the death of this creature meant life for Ink A.
The struggle of creation with grain continued for some time, until it ended in victory for the latter. As soon as the golden light finally went out, wriggling metal strips plunged into the body of the silent mini-dinosaur and disappeared. Ink waited and watched the creature intensely. With small jerks, he was able to bring the thread of consciousness closer and tried to push the body. Due to the incomplete fatigue, the cobweb could not create protection from vibration and touched the creature directly.
There was no reaction. The creature seemed dead. There was not even a trace of other people's consciousness.
"And how can I get rid of him now?" - Ink tried to drive away thoughts about the corpse in consciousness and what is happening with the bodies of animals. Any association with the decomposition of the remains provoked a desire to quickly get rid of this obviously superfluous detail in his mind. He even tried to bite a creature, eat it, as he gnawed white energy, but with the same success he could try to chew on a bronze statue of a dinosaur. "Maybe these stars will eat him?"
Ink pushed the creature toward a sparkling particle, hoping for the best.
Returning to reality, he fell asleep. As it turned out, fake feathers do not protect against the cold. Frozen Ink got out of the ruined temple and returned to the cave to his comrades. Grank met him with a grunt and an ultimatum refusal to go hunting again. Ink only nodded, agreeing that tomorrow he would have to get food with Kiass , after which he gladly chewed a piece of hot meat from an unknown animal and lay down closer to the fire. On this day, he had more than enough shock.
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