Chương 28: Reminded the world that he exists and that his debts must be settled!
Poor Nigelus, he was a veritable whirlwind of confusion and fear, yet I could sense the excitement trembling beneath the surface of his emotions. His gaze was fixed upon me with an intensity that spoke of eager anticipation.
It had been several seconds since I released him from my telekinetic restraints and posed the question about his future. The chains that bound him to his chair were not physical, but rather emotional, controlled not by my will, but by his own inner turmoil.
I repeated my question, addressing the director: "What am I to do with you, Nigelus? This is not the welcome I anticipated when I arrived at my creation, Hogwarts. Which house did you hail from? Gryffindor, perhaps, if Rowling's tales are to be believed? But if Nigelus Phineas Black truly graduated from Slytherin, as Rowling suggested, then my assumption should have left him even more bewildered and ashamed."
My words provided me with the freedom to interpret the situation in either direction, but it could not continue indefinitely. Finally, he regained control of himself and leapt from his seat, bowing deeply in response.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Salazar Slytherin," he exclaimed with excitement, relishing the resonance of my given name and surname. "Please forgive me, most honoured one. I was not informed of your visit. When I detected a breach in the wards of my office, I hastened here to investigate. Upon encountering an unfamiliar individual in my office not affiliated with the student body or staff, I took the course of action I deemed appropriate in such a situation. Few individuals can gain access to this school, let alone gain entry to my office without detection. Therefore, I resorted to extreme measures, considering you a significant threat.
Once again, I express my sincere apologies for my abruptness, but I maintain that my actions were reasonable and correct in this circumstance. I am entrusted with over five hundred young minds, the future pride of English magical society, and could not act otherwise.". My delay and error could have resulted in the loss of lives among the school community and its personnel had it turned out that the individual in question harbored malevolent intentions.
What a commendable display of leadership! A school principal must be one who is unconcerned with the consequences, unafraid of danger, with children at his back, and unmindful of law, personal safety, and the potential threat before him. He plunges headlong into confrontation with a perceived adversary.
Slytherin indeed! I nodded in satisfaction at his well-reasoned response, adorned with elements of defiance. After he had articulated the fundamental rationale behind his actions, I found myself unable to refute his argument. The sanctity of children is paramount!
You have done everything correctly, and my query regarding what to do about you was not a rebuke, as you might have interpreted it, but rather a consequence of your presence during my conversation with an old colleague. I do not wish to reveal either my true identity or the fact that I am still alive. My intention was to initially introduce myself to you using my alter ego, which is known within the magical community.
My goal was to induce Black's willingness to keep my secrets, for after all, what brings people together more than shared secrets?
"Forgive my inquisitiveness, but under what pseudonym would you like to be known?" I asked, and for the first time I saw the phrase "turned into one big ear" become a reality. Black's face was alight with curiosity and joy at the sight of his idol. I could almost feel what it was like to be a pop star in Korea, surrounded by fans who were overjoyed to see their idol. Just a little longer, and his eyes would sparkle with stars. Brrrrr. I imagined the scene and immediately wanted to capture it.
Not to say that Black was frightening. He was an ordinary-looking man, not tall, not thin, with symmetrical features, but his eyes were striking. They were a deep, dazzling blue. But I did not want to become an object of adoration, especially for men. If it were pretty girls, I would gladly accept such attention, but not otherwise.
Svyatozar Zmiev — if I had thought that anyone could be more astonished than he was when he realized that Salazar Slytherin was standing before him, I would have been mistaken. Now, Svyatozar's revelation truly took him aback. His legs grew weak, and he had to brace himself against the table to prevent himself from collapsing.
"But how could this be? After all, Sleazar was the arch-enemy of Slytherin, a Light Lord, a revered saint who performed true miracles before the world! Master of the Order of the Dragon, master of all the magical guilds at the time of his passing, and this is what you say?" With each new revelation, my voice betrayed a growing sense of shock and disbelief. "It simply cannot be!" His legs still refused to hold him up, so I used telekinesis to levitate the chair beneath him.
"Me, me. Why are you so astonished?" I asked.
They had tempted me to share with him the meme "It's Magic, Harry!" but alas, he would not understand. Nor would anyone else for at least another century. And it is uncertain whether things will remain the same then. But I still harbor the hope that I have not significantly altered the course of events in Britain, and they will follow the path Rowling has laid out.
Even in my previous incarnation, I read fanfiction authors whose characters never strayed from the rails of the canonical storyline, as if the world itself resisted such deviations. There is hope, then.
Yet I was an avid reader in my past life, and those times remain etched in my deepest childhood and adolescence. After all, it is normal for a man to cherish his childhood memories until his fortieth year. It is akin to revisiting a beloved place that holds special significance for each member of the human race.
And I never had the opportunity to reach that milestone in my first, mundane world, devoid of magic and wonder.
"My God!" was the first exclamation that escaped Black's lips as he regained his composure and pieced together the fragments of reality. For in his mind, an unimaginable event had occurred! It was unprecedented in the annals of history, at least in the known history of the world, that a single individual could embody both the darkness and light in equal measure. And such a figure, like his own idol, had been elevated to the highest echelon in his estimation.
"I require your oath, Black," he said, steering the conversation in the desired direction.
"Loyalty?" Black's response was not a surname, but a diagnosis, as if to say, "Now I understand what Bellatrix was like, with her mad ancestors! What a sane person would think after hearing such words, demanding an oath on information not intended for their ears?" The Oath of Secrecy. The Oath of Concealment. Or any variation thereof. A Freudian slip, perhaps, revealing a dark lord fetish common to all Blacks.
"Secrets, secrets, Nigelus," I said, "I have dashed your hopes. I do not need the Blacks as my vassals, if I am to witness the canonical events with my own eyes. Perhaps later, but not now. If Nigelus exists in this world, my deeds and my mark on history have not yet reached the Black family, so I have hope of seeing the Black sisters myself."
With a swift and unbroken breath, he recited the harshest oath he could have taken to guard against betrayal, and his embarrassment and shame radiated in all directions. Such a desire to speak carelessly and reveal one's intentions must have possessed him, and now I understand.
"Lord Slytherin," I said, addressing the head of the Black family. "I extend to you a cordial invitation to visit our manor and to be our honored guest at your earliest convenience."
The words spoken by the head of Clan Black granted me the privilege of entering their home at my own discretion, a privilege that even close relatives did not enjoy. As a skilled master of enchantments and rituals, I could bypass the wards protecting the manor, allowing me to enter unnoticed and gain access to the grounds.
"Nigelus, please have a seat," I invited him, gesturing towards a chair. I gracefully settled into the serpentine chair materialized behind me, maintaining the image and reputation we uphold. With this action, I established who was the host and who was the guest within the walls of Hogwarts.
Once we were both ensconced in comfortable armchairs, I responded to his invitation.
Nigelus,
I am not interested in the current political and social climate of England or any other part of Europe. In fact, I have twice faked my death to avoid unwanted attention and mundane social engagements. My passion lies in the pursuit of scientific knowledge and the exploration of the mysteries of the universe through the lens of magic.
Therefore, my answer is a resounding "no". I can imagine why you might want to invite me into your home, but I assure you that there is no need. Your intentions may be driven by the prospect of finding a suitable partner for me within your family, either as a wife for myself or an apprentice for my research. However, the idea of marrying one of your relatives is out of the question. I am already married, and if you value your own well-being and the safety of your family, you should reconsider your proposal.
Despite your apparent lack of understanding, I felt compelled to save the poor man from the consequences of his own actions.
"My chosen one's name is Maria from the Badoer family. Do those names mean anything to you?"
"Ah, now he's got it. He'll forget all about that wish. Well done, Mashka. She's built up such a reputation that even the Black ones are backing off. They've never come across her before, but they're afraid of her just on the strength of her reputation. And that's worth a great deal."
"What about the apprenticeship?" he asked. "He had given it up on the first thought, but something else still lodged in his mind."
"Not now and not for fifty more years. My wedding with my beloved has been delayed by business in another world. For the next thirty to fifty years I'll be on a honeymoon, a holiday."
Nigelus, I propose a unique arrangement. Given your oath of secrecy, you cannot reveal my identity, and by the time I am ready to take on an apprentice, you may not be among the living. Therefore, I suggest we proceed in this manner: you provide me with a completed and signed application form for Hogwarts teacher recruitment, but without the required date stamp.
When I am inspired to seek an apprentice and visit Hogwarts in disguise, I will engage you to draft a contract. The contract should be long-term, allowing me to remain at Hogwarts as long as I deem necessary. During this period, if any members of the Black family are present at Hogwarts, they will be my primary focus. I anticipate that among your kin, there may be individuals possessing the qualities of intellect, strength, and willingness to serve as my personal students.
«Thank you so much! This is a great honor for the Black family, and I, as the head, will be most grateful to you, Dark Lord!» he said. «He has already agreed to everything, but we can't let it slip, and the information will not escape from him.» I froze all the portraits in the study the moment my conversation with Ron began. The culprits deliberately kept Nigelus awake.
No longer the Dark Lord — that is outdated information. Once again, I have confused the honourable and esteemed headmaster. With his upbringing and the training he received in his family as heir, it is difficult to do so. No one becomes head of the family accidentally. Here, the word of the former head decides if there is a succession of power in the family from generation to generation, and not due to the death of the elder, but do not forget the importance of the opinion of family magic itself.
Without the positive consent of family magic, one cannot become the head. The clan regards the development of magical instinct and conformity to the sensual spirit of an applicant as the primary criteria for the position of head of the family, as stated in the clan code. The clan also demands a strong character from an individual, even if their magic is not as developed as in younger clans.. And I am somewhat saddened by the fact that his family's magical heritage is not as vibrant as it could be. It is difficult to comprehend how one could abandon what one's forebears have amassed over generations. It is inconceivable that the Black Library does not possess a copy of works on inheritance and family by Asclepius, nor Avicenna's works either. There must be an extensive collection of rituals as well. During Salazar's time, the head of the Black Family was a master in runology and ritualism, and several members of the family have since defended their mastery in these fields, ensuring a wealth of literature detailing rituals, techniques to lift curses, and purify magical practices.
However, upon examining Nigelus' soul, I discern a trajectory that is not auspicious for his kind. He bears two clan curses, in addition to a personal curse that was purchased, and it is uncertain whether it will not transfer to the family magic and altar through his descendants.
However, since I owe him nothing, I will not be altruistic. It is not in my nature to offer unsolicited advice. And if I wish to see the canonical outcome, I must distance myself from the situation in England to its conclusion.
My discourse on the forthcoming canon and the deterioration that had already begun among the Blacks passed in a mere instant, leaving me still relishing Nigelus's perplexed expression at my admission of no longer being the Dark Lord.
"But how could I be!" he exclaimed, "It's… I don't understand. The title is bestowed by the world. I cannot bestow it upon another." Phineas pondered aloud, attempting to unravel the enigma I had presented.
I dismissed his concerns. "Do not concern yourself, Black. I shall answer your question. An immortal cannot hold the title of Dark." His expression shifted, his eyes growing distant. It was not often one had the opportunity to converse with a deity.
"You became a god? But how on earth is that possible?" — And what could he say to that? Perhaps he should pay more attention to his library, and he might find the answers there. Hmm…
Why are modern magicians so myopic and so limited in their development? Not only have they embraced wand magic, thus negating the efforts of their forebears, who cultivated their magical knowledge, selected suitable partners to pass on their best qualities and abilities to their descendants, but these modern practitioners, without even attempting to comprehend the nature of magic or its fundamentals, simply choose a specific path and follow it without deviation. This limits their horizons and restricts their magical capabilities. A magician must cultivate a broad perspective!
If you spend the majority of your time practicing blood magic, dark magic, or light magic, the more you focus on these forms, the harder it becomes to explore other aspects of magic.
Nigelus, regain your senses. There is still much to be done, including the completion of my employment contract, as well as contracts for potential apprenticeships for my descendants. And miraculously, he regained his composure and began drafting the contracts.
I obtained my Hogwarts ticket first, anticipating Dumbledore's arrival. My aspiration is to secure employment as a teacher during his tenure as headmaster at my established school. With the Godric's Sword, I have attained full mastery. I possess three of the four founder's relics, and Helga's Cup no longer holds significance, but it will require time and effort to acquire it. However, it is an artifact of divine origin crafted by Perun, known to the Scandinavians as Thor.
While I have sworn not to utilize divine artifacts that belong to others, I may make an exception in the case of Helga's Cup, as it is not intended for combat and does not serve my personal needs. Nonetheless, it possesses the ability to replicate potent potions and elixirs on a large scale, making it an invaluable addition to the collection of witches, and I shall organize my wine vault accordingly.. Moreover, Godric has already accomplished this feat, so there is no reason for me not to follow suit. I merely need to procure small quantities of each item I aspire to include in my collection of premium spirits.
After all, I have lived for so many years on this earth, but I have never experienced the delights of alcoholic intoxication through this body. I am not a drunkard and rarely resort to such methods of relaxation, yet with my current state of being, I am denied this opportunity. All I can do is dwell on Salazar's recollections of drinking Avalon ale with Godric.
And so it is. Black has already signed a dozen apprenticeship agreements with Salazar Slytherin. Indeed. Amongst the scrolls of apprenticeships, there were five prenuptial contracts. You have it all figured out. To wed a daughter of my kin to a deity, and with knowledge of my life's history, a Dark One is clearly preferable to a mere Dark Lord. He has even disregarded his reservations about the name of my former apprentice and future spouse.
I did not comment on it, merely depositing all the documents in my dimensional pocket.
"That was the culmination of my affairs in England. Farewell, Black, although I may encounter you again." With that, I turned to the hat and activated it once more, allowing Ron to regain consciousness. "You too, Ron, I shall see you anew. But not for some time to come."
Ignoring the Headmaster's farewell words and Ron's response, I proceeded into the taiga forest. My clones had already purified the land, and at the site of the magical source I had received from Leshego, they had erected an exquisite temple that resembled a princely chamber from the twelfth century — only in appearance.
Within, the dimensions were a hundredfold greater than they appeared, thanks to the intricate rune chains that expanded the space. There were three levels above ground, a single level below ground, and four levels underground. I had meticulously designed and constructed this space with Feng Shui in mind, and it had been centuries since I had last left it, save for a few illusory duplicates.
Yet, when four archimage architects take on a project, the work swiftly materializes, always of the highest caliber. Everything was prepared for occupancy, and every essential item for daily life was present in the terem: from cooking implements to a broom and dustpan. However, why would I require such mundane tools here? Magic was at my disposal, and the enchantments built into the complex had already transformed my home into an impenetrable fortress, monitoring both external and internal order.
Here we go! My world-domain, my family nest, is ready to welcome guests. An island resort with bungalows at one's disposal. Even my own boarding school is within my personal domain. What more could one desire? I am not merely good, I am divinely good!
Well, enough of the jesting. Morgana was even worse than I had anticipated. I could not stop thinking about her actions.
Ron, on the other hand, was one of those people who were likable and enjoyable, even to me, a humble working man from the twenty-first century. He was an agreeable fellow, optimistic about everything in life, never disheartened, yet he possessed a sensitive heart and was always willing to assist those he regarded as his loved ones. Godric and Salazar, while close, could occasionally quarrel, yet neither of them ever clashed with Ron, who often initiated reconciliation between them.
Upon acquiring my Slytherin memories, I developed a strong affinity for the young man, only to discover that he would later become a Sorting Hat. Had I been more attentive to the canon, I would have recognized the familiar style of verse that the hat employed. It was not until now, when I noticed the mediocre lyrics that the Sorting Hat sang in the films about Harry Potter, that I realized it would distribute the students to their houses. Despite his limited talent, Ron considered himself a great poet and musician. As soon as the three of us, Godric, Ron and Salazar, became intoxicated, our ears were subjected to his incessant chants.
I was unaware of his fate, even with Rowena's memory in my possession, for it was not entirely complete and did not encompass her entire life in a chronological sequence. What else could I expect? Due to the curse of the Morrigan, Morgana could not remain in a single body for an extended period of time, thus preventing her from developing her spiritual shells to such an extent that they could form an eighth shell which would protect them from deterioration.
Her mental realm had a limited capacity for storing valuable information, as she had been a priestess of the Morrigan throughout her first life, and from all subsequent reincarnations she had accumulated and carried with her into each new life only knowledge of magical arts and life-altering events that had shaped her personality and character. The memories of her incarnations' lives, including those of Rowena, were highly fragmentary. I was fortunate to have gained some insight into her last incarnation, but only thanks to the fact that she was killed.. Had she performed the ritual of transmigration in accordance with all the prescribed procedures and utilizing the techniques she had devised, I might not have gained any insights into Rowena's memories at all. Instead, I would have merely acquired a superficial understanding of magic, along with a few scattered facts, and an image of Godric, the object of her affection.
Even with the might of a deity and the wisdom of an archmagus in many branches of the arcane arts, I was unable to sever Ron's spirit from the physical vessel of the hat. My only recourse was to extinguish it, sending the bare atman adrift on the wheel of Samsara.
I swiftly discerned the ritual she had employed to bind the spirit to the hat, a practice favored by druids who absorbed the spirits of their victims into trees, merging with them completely, embracing their second soul-shell and the prana used for the binding. Stripped of even a trace of human prana, they transformed into full-fledged dendroids, destined for rebirth as plant-based lifeforms, with no hope of reincarnation as animal or human.
The prana of plants and animals is inherently incompatible, unless symbiotic species can safely integrate plant prana into their own systems.
And since all of Ron's prana was merged with the hat, which had no second beginning, he would need to begin his ascent anew from the lowest rungs in his subsequent incarnations after his physical form was destroyed. Until his atman accumulated the capacity to inhabit the body of a sentient being, he would be forced to exist as insects and other unsentient, simple organisms.
Rowena, in carrying out this act on Ron, was fully aware of the consequences of her actions. I have knowledge of this ritual from her memories.
The only way I could assist Ron in this matter would be to create a golem for him by employing the principles of chimerology, linking it to the hat and granting Ron control over it. This would provide him with mobility and a more comprehensive perception of reality. However, such a body would serve as a substitute for the capacity to truly experience the world.
The hat has become inextricably linked with Ron's essence, but the chimerical nature itself would not permit it. Consequently, Ron's connection to the golem would result in muted and lackluster sensations. This issue could potentially be resolved with the aid of a familiar spirit, but unfortunately, Ron does not possess a second soul vessel directly involved in establishing the bond between master and familiar. Mmm... it is not an easy task, but it certainly adds to the intrigue!
«Halt, Svyatozar!» I exclaimed. Once again, my primary stream of consciousness had been diverted to the secondary one, which was preoccupied with resolving Ron's predicament. Moreover, there was still the matter of Vasilisa to attend to! Why was I lingering over it?
I could simply have delved into the remnants of my four illusory constructs and ascertained their well-being.
In the blink of an eye, I found myself transported, not so much physically, but rather as if the world shifted relative to me. I stood ten kilometers away from Lake Ladoga, where the atmosphere was enchanting, neither chilly nor sultry. Magic could allow one to experience comfort at absolute zero or superheated temperatures, but the sense of tranquility imparted by the world itself was incomparable to what charms could provide. A gentle breeze rustled through the air, and a cloudless sky adorned with countless twinkling stars shone above.
"Now let us see who is the master," I mused to myself as I conjured three thousand illusory forms from my realm. As they moved, they dispersed around the lake, forming a ring. I had acquired a valuable ritual from Dordsh and employed my previously concealed power to fortify and empower its components.
Once my minions were in position, no creature could pass unnoticed. I summoned another hundred duplicates simultaneously to create a ritual circle, maintaining it and shielding it from detection until my signal to activate it was given. Now I could proceed to the rendezvous with the entity that sought reprieve from Leshego by sacrificing my life. She had misjudged the situation, and now she was indebted to me! If Leshego's reach was limited, I possessed numerous methods to inflict harm upon Vasilisa. However, I desired to claim the reward first, and only then would I exact my vengeance.
And so I stand on the water close to a small island in the middle of the lake, awaiting the appearance of the gatekeepers to greet me. Behold, here they come!
I had no difficulty detecting the spatial distortion in the depths of the lake from which Velimir and his bodyguards emerged, and the essence of Dagon's spawn within the staff responded. Once I fully and acutely sensed the reality, the previously unrecognized potentialities of my captives within the Archmage's staff became apparent to me.
It became clear to me that it would not be challenging for me to alter the coordinates of the spatial rift's exit and transport them to any location within this world where there exists liquid water. I could have dealt a decisive blow by conceptually manipulating the fluid, exerting unprecedented pressure on the exit point of the Kapischa guards. Velimir might have survived.. "Greetings, Svyatozar," said Chernomor, who had been hovering around me for a few minutes, unable to get behind my back and apparently wanting to make a dramatic appearance behind my shoulder, startling me. However, I am not the same sorcerer I was two hundred years ago in terms of strength and abilities.
"And good luck to you, Velimir," I replied. "I am here to see Vasilisa and need her to repay my debt. Would you be so kind as to summon her?" I explained the reason for my visit, seeing no need to conceal it. It was important for everyone on the other side to be aware of my presence and the purpose of my visit.
With a peculiar glance in my direction, he and his entourage vanished through a portal that materialized on a tiny island, and moments later, Vasilisa emerged from the opposite side. As ever, she appeared beautiful, yet I felt an equal measure of loathing and repugnance towards her. "You won't smile for long," I thought, observing the hint of a smile that threatened to turn into a smirk. What else could she be planning? She believes she is clever enough to manipulate me into eliminating Leshy and then betray me by withholding the promised reward, sending me to a brothel instead. Well, well, well!
"Hello, Svyatozar. I trust you have fulfilled my request, considering you are here before me?" I should have sensed the weight of an unkept promise to another deity. But no matter, we shall spoil your mood.
Greetings. I have fulfilled the task you set for me, and I must say, it was no easy feat. However, I am not here to regale you with tales of the trials and tribulations I encountered along the way. My purpose is to claim the reward we agreed upon, as per our agreement. I have done my part; now it is your turn.
Today, I did not need to suppress my pride and refer to her as «you». We are now on equal footing. She and I are deities. But she is unaware of my elevation, for since my arrival in this realm from Stlloshkh, I have not revealed my true nature to the world, nor to her.
I refrained from doing so because I desired to encounter Vasilisa in my realm, not in theirs, and if she were aware of my divine status, she would not have left her domain. Moreover, I cannot fathom what convoluted thoughts she might have conceived during the time it took me to reach her for the promised compensation.
She, confident in her abilities and believing she could elude me without consequence, now finds herself in a realm where I possess greater power than she does. She herself confided in me that after Vladimir baptized Russia, there would be no place for their kind on these lands. This world is pushing them out, and with my power at my disposal, I can easily summon additional forces and strike her with such force that, even if I cannot eliminate her outright, I can at least severely incapacitate her.
"What sort of recompense?" I inquired. "I have just disclosed my predicament to you, and you, as an upstanding individual, have volunteered to assist a helpless young woman.
Now there is no need for you to conceal your divine nature. Certainly, I had been certain that events would unfold as I had anticipated, but I erred, and she truly intended to settle accounts with me in good faith. However, I was correct, and we can now pursue the difficult course of action.
She attempted to articulate further, but found herself unable. It is challenging to speak when one is subjected to the combined power of a hundred Archimages, striking them with pure Mana of Light imbued with the Holiness of the One!"
The onslaught of my clones transformed her into a colossal black serpent measuring an impressive 80 metres. As my illusions relentlessly replenished her with energy, her scales sloughed off, revealing the regenerating flesh and bones in certain areas.
It was at this moment, I pondered, why was I so foolish? Was I a deity, or was I merely taking a leisurely stroll? In an instant, I found myself admiring the writhing serpent's form atop the tranquil surface of the nocturnal lake, its waters aglow with the sacred white flames. I sat in a hovering chair, savoring a dark, unfiltered beverage, accompanied by a delightful snack of pistachio nuts.
"Lepota!" I exclaimed with delight, after taking a generous sip of the luscious, frothy drink, followed by a mouthful of salted nuts.
Who were these individuals in the boat, I wondered, as they approached the scene where the goddess lay in torment, seemingly intent on hurling me into the depths.
As soon as I directed my gaze towards the intellectuals in the room, a keen observer of human nature, I was immediately struck by the peculiar individuals who had converged here. Once again, I failed to notice a rather significant detail: the island of Valaam, home to the eponymous Orthodox monastery. The people on the boat, in essence, resembled members of the Inquisition, albeit from a Russian Orthodox perspective. It was as if they were brothers from a different unit, albeit within the same faith.
Ah, but then I had a brilliant idea, for I needed to disrupt the Vatican's focus and draw their attention away from my own affairs. Here was an extraordinary opportunity presented to me!
One of my duplicates, having evaded Vasilisa's detection, conjured my Great Spirit, the White Horse, and donned an illusion of gleaming armor. Equipped with my staff, this duplicate soared like a javelin into the skies and hurled itself towards Vasilisa as she attempted to regenerate her physical form. My other duplicates had ceased their assault with light, for I had no intention of killing her. She had not yet bestowed upon me my reward, and I yearned to lay my hands upon the serpent's apple.
My spectral form hovered above the writhing entity, which, despite its proximity to the darkness, possessed a higher order, rendering it vulnerable to the holy essence of the One and the radiance emanating from the direct conduit of this cosmic energy. The combined force of these elements inflicted severe damage upon it, causing it to collapse beneath the weight of my presence. With a final thrust, I plunged my staff deep into its core.
That was the final straw that broke the camel's back, after which Vasilisa succumbed to unconsciousness, and now there was nothing to prevent my clone from accompanying her to our realm, to the once-great city of Stlloshh.
Why do I continue to refer to it as such? Does it belong to me now, and do I need to bestow upon it a new designation? But what would that name be?
However, we can ponder these matters at a later time, for there is no urgency, but it was fascinating to overhear their conversation on the vessel!
"Father Seraphim, it was St. George the Victorious, was it not?! I am certain of it, and what lies within my soul? I sensed the sanctity emanating from the radiance. It was undoubtedly him! It is a miracle, Father!"
The helmsman, guiding the rook to the site of the saint's battle, was unable to contain his excitement, for no other warrior, in his comprehension, could be engaged in combat with the serpent at this moment.
But to his discourse, imbued with fanatical ardour and vivid emotion, the elder responded that throughout this time, along with all the other occupants of the chamber, he had not taken his eyes off the confrontation between the champion of Christ's faith and the spawn of Evil, which was occurring at a distance slightly exceeding a versta. He was aware of this. As the most powerful and experienced warrior present in the chamber, his perception allowed him to fully appreciate not only the strength of the saint but also the creature he battled, which proved to be formidable.
And if this warrior failed to vanquish it now, it was unlikely that any living being could withstand it, leading to numerous casualties if this creature continued its rampage and reached larger settlements without divine intervention in the form of its champion and protector.
"It is not George, Panfil," he said. "He remembered the diocesan commission meeting, where they discussed the case of Svyatozar Zmiev. Those who knew him recognized him as a saint of the Orthodox Church, despite the fact that he was an Orthodox Christian recognized as a saint by the Catholic Church."
The commission debated whether to refer the case to the Synod for canonization. However, the case never came up for consideration. Our hierarchs, even in this matter, did not want to agree with their Roman counterparts. But Father Seraphim, with his gift of discernment, saw only a man radiating light and recognized him as Svyatozar.
His gift immediately revealed the truth of Svyatozar's name, which now stood in opposition to evil. "But who is it then?" Panfil persisted. "It is Svyatozar," Father Seraphim replied, his words echoing in the silence of the night after the figure of the rider on the snowy horse and the serpent vanished in a flash of light.
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