"Left ribs!" Kerryben yelled in a low voice.

Cremar wasn't sure if he was going to heed the reminder - he'd been reminded too much since he stepped into this room, some real and some fake, the only thing in common was that they always hurt, uh, like now- Kerryburn's scimitar struck him sideways in the left rib, and the soul from another world felt like it had been hit by a speeding electric car, and he flew out (literally) and crashed into a beautifully carved knife display shelf on which a large scimitar the length of a man's entire arm fell and hit him in the nose.

Unable to pay attention to his poor nose for a moment, he rolled and jumped to his feet, grabbed a thin sword hanging from the wall, and launched two quick lunges at the trailing Kerryburn, but they were blocked by the small shield tied to Kerryburn's right arm: "Waist!" he reminded again, and then a clever detour, stabbing Cremar hard in the back, then slashing his knees with the edge of the small shield, and snorting as Cremar kissed the ground passionately: "Sometimes I have a little doubts- In front of me is a goblin who has drunk a potion of strength," he sighed, "or a giant with a mentally retarded spell?" he said, shaking his head incredulously as he struck the black-haired caster in the back of the head with his sheathed scimitar, "Praise be Angeleth, the god of life, whose starlight must always shine on your path." ”

Cremar got up from the ground in exasperation, "I fought alongside you!" he shouted at Kerryburn.

Kerriben smiled and nodded, "Strengthened my faith - yes." ”

The dark-haired caster, almost in the same mood as his hair color, stood up and went on the offensive.

As Kerry Ben said, his strength is greater than that of the Ranger, he uses a rapille, but the point of force that is only the tip of the pen can bring the pressure of Kerryben like the waves of a boulder, if the wooden shield is not covered with dragon skin, and the bracket is not made of pure gold, maybe it would have broken into countless pieces, even so, Kerry still felt that the arm that bound the small shield was about to break, and every time he was forced, his footsteps would move backwards, and the counterattack would be interrupted because of this.

But he quickly caught a way of flipping the opposition, his shield always tilting at an angle, directing the tremendous force to where he wanted it to be, and pressing forward, shortening the distance between himself and Cremar, sometimes clinging to his side of the arm, and complementing more detours and trips.

He seemed to be particularly fond of Cremar's nose, and when he was hit in the nose for the fourth or fifth time, Kerryburn kicked him in the wrist, and the sword swirled from Cremar's hand across the floor of the room, eventually stopping under a glass case with various crossbows on display.

Cremar lay quietly on the ground, his nose hurting, the back of his head hurting, his back and his ribs hurting, but the most painful thing was his self-esteem - in another world, as a gentle deep house, even on the Internet, he rarely argued with people, and those who made him unpleasant, at most, deleted friends or dragged him into the blacklist, and never took any knives other than nail clippers, scissors, kitchen knives, and dinner knives, including the Longquan sword that hung on the wall and never bladed. But ever since he was thrown into this hellish place, he had to fight monsters that were only supposed to be in horror games, and he won, and he once held up a 10,000-pound orca cub - he didn't think that that would put him on par with some underwear lover who could force time backwards by simply spinning the earth a few hundred times counterclockwise, nor did he like it that much (except for the fat little killer whale), but he felt that he should be stronger than the average person.

But the truth is, Kerry could beat him up if he wanted to.

――If you use Kerryben as a benchmark......

――How do you say that?

-- Kerribben was probably between four hundred and fifty years old, and by the standards of the elves, he was in his best youth and could keep it that way for a thousand years or more—the elves reached adulthood at the age of one hundred and fifty, and before that they had been learning and mastering their martial arts for seventy to eighty years, yes, the whole life of a human being. If he hadn't used drugs and spells to delay his aging and death, said the lich, what would he have been doing for three or four hundred years after Kerribben became an adult? Of course, not hiding in his room to breed more mushrooms, he spent that time studying, traveling, and fighting, in your words, the goblins he killed, There are probably more orcs and giants than you've ever met, his martial arts have been honed and shaped in blood and bone for centuries, and he probably has more combat experience than I do—mind you, I mean martial arts.

So, there's nothing embarrassing about being beaten up by such a guy, it's a good thing.

――...... Forgive me if I'm mistaken, the soul of the other world said cautiously, are you comforting me?

- I'm sorry to disappoint you, the former undead dryly denied that I had never learned this skill. I just wanted to remind you, don't think he's being too you, as a martial arts instructor, there won't be a better candidate than Kerry Ben anytime soon.

-- We are spellcasters.

Not when you've exhausted all your spells and psychic powers, said the lich, so please study carefully, I think it's likely to happen from time to time in the future.

- Hey!, the otherworldly soul protested.

"Stand up," Kerry said, holding out his hand to the frustrated half-elf, "It's cold and the floor, not for a nap." ”

Cremar grabbed his hand and stood up, shining a picture of his face on a broadsword hanging from the wall, thinking that if he could go back with this body, he might be able to go directly to Lord Voldemort.

His nose was unharmed, at least on the surface.

"Your body is tougher than you think. Kerry Ben said, and he was very measured, he didn't think that kind of force could cause any irreparable damage to the snake man's body that could not be completely torn apart, knowing that the snake man's claws could even penetrate the hard rock at the bottom of the river.

"But it still hurts. Cremar complained.

"The pain is something to remember. "You've got more talent than anyone I've ever seen, and the only thing you owe is a lack of experience and training." And a little ruthlessness that must be necessary, "well, none of this can be done overnight," he continued, "and we start with the easiest and quickest, Cremar, I think you need to change your weapon again, Rapier is not for you." ”

As soon as he stepped into the room, Cremar was so compelled to engage in the battle with Kerribon that he couldn't see it in its entirety—sunlight shone through the hall's colorless glass dome, illuminating a huge room large enough for five pairs of rivals to fight in it. In the catastrophe caused by Fenway, the hall also built on the tree, although the fire of negative energy destroyed the cracked maple tree on which it was used to lodge, was extremely fortunate to escape the looting of the giants, and after the reconstruction, it was able to continue to hang and display thousands of weapons on its four walls, some of which were made by the elves and half-elves themselves, some that they occasionally bought or picked up during their travels, or generously gifted by friends and employers, and some that they had collected from their enemies。

"Spellcasters usually carry daggers with them," said Kerribben, "Mithril and Adamantite daggers are the best choice, they are very friendly with magic, the caster can wear them without worrying about the adverse effects of ordinary iron tools on magic, and in some cases, they can be used as a medium of magic or directly enchanted, as far as I know, a famous assassin has an evil dagger that can drain the life force of others and heal his master. Of course, spellcasters opt for Mithril more, and although Adamantite is harder than Mithril, it is simply too heavy. ”

He picked up a dagger of pure gold, the grip of which was cast in the shape of a spindle, that is, two thin ends and thick in the middle, and the non-slip pattern on the surface was a circle of parallel hollow circles, known as rib circles, and the gauntlet was made into an S-shaped coiled viper, with a small gap between the tip of the tail and the hanging triangular head and body, so that it could be hung directly from the buckle of the belt or chest strap even without a sheath, and it was narrower and heavier than other daggers, like a slightly flattened awl, with three blood grooves, suitable for stabbing rather than chopping。

"A relic of a thief. Carey Ben said.

Cremar took it and tried it, and found that it weighed more than gold.

"Bows," Kerry continued, "the kind that can be hidden in the sleeves. ”

Cremar put down the Adamantite Dagger, a small crossbow with Mithril as the main accessory material, which was more of a wrist crossbow than a sleeve crossbow, it was mounted on the wrist, like a large and strange ornament, its length and width did not exceed the back of his hand, the raised part could be completely covered with a wide sleeve, the crossbow arrow was small like a hairpin, the spring used for firing was hidden in the palm of the hand, and the middle or ring finger could shoot out the crossbow arrow with a light touch.

He tried it and found that the bolts fired by this toy-like crossbow were able to pierce a wooden shield covered in cowhide, of course, under normal circumstances, it did not kill by its own weight and length, the bolts were hollow and could be infused with lethal or non-lethal potions.

"Both of these are dwarven works. Carey Ben said.

He showed Cremar the broadsword that had been used as a mirror by the latter, a thin blade more than a foot or more wide that glittered in the sunlight, its length almost the entire length of the room, the hilt about one-third the length of the sword, and the end of it was a long, sharp spearhead that could pierce the boar's head.

"Dwarves too?" asked Cremar.

"No," said Kerryben, "it's an elf." ”

Cremar looked at the broadsword and estimated the height of the elf, as well as the gaps between the trees, not to mention using it, it would be difficult to even walk on its back.

"Not used here. Carey said, but instead of going on, he shifted the subject in another direction, "Why did you choose the Rapier before, because it can be hidden in a cane?"

Cremar nodded.

"So have you thought about anything else? not to think about anything else, just what you want?"

Cremar hesitated for a moment: "Stick?"

"It's rare," he said, "and very few men use sticks, except the warrior monks of Seris, for their doctrine is to avoid killing as much as possible—though their sticks are no safer than axes or broadswords." ”

He motioned for Cremar to look at the place he was pointing, where there were spears and tridents, as well as two long sticks, which were swarthy, and Kremar tried them, and found them to be heavier than Mithril, but lighter than Adamantite.

- If you dare to pick on this, the lich said gloomily, I'll kill Kerryben, and I promise I'll do what I say, even if I can't cast a spell.

-- We have a very powerful monkey there, and the spirit of the other world said with great interest that he uses a stick, a stick weighing 13,500 pounds.

- I don't care how heavy it is, it's been used by monkeys or pigs, said the lich, if you dare to walk around with a stick, it's like a goblin slave, I'll let Kerry die, that's all, no negotiation.

The otherworldly soul shrugged his non-existent shoulders - what about the staff?

In the end, Cremar only took one dagger from that room, the Adamantite Dagger, the relic of the thief.

"Oh, by the way," he asked, "how are they doing?"

He had come to Kerry Ben for this, but he was beaten up and almost forgot why he had come to him.

"I have settled down," said Kerribben, "and I have caught five sheep for them, three males and two females, and they will soon have milk and wool to use." ”

In Kerribben's memory, he had passed through an inaccessible wasteland, not very far from the Grey Ridge, with small patches of woods under the ridge, through which the stream passed, and above the barren rocky slopes, where weeds and shrubs grew, on which a flock of wild sheep lived.

But the exiled commoners did not want to live in isolation, more precisely, they did not trust the elves, and they decided to take refuge with their relatives and friends, or go to the fortress and other cities, only the former servants of Rosada remained, but they had never done what slaves and commoners did with their own hands before, and they were always a little stumbling at first, but with the help of Cremar and Kerribben, they learned how to build semi-underground mud huts and stoves, how to go into the woods to collect leaves and dead branches for fuel, distinguish edible fruits and mushrooms, scrape rock salt, and catch fish and rabbits。

The souls of the other world are ready to visit them sometime, bringing some medicine and maple candy.

- Before that, the lich said that you had better be able to finish that.

Oh, you said that...... Otherworldly souls say, choose my partner?

- Yes, the former undead say that every warlock has a little friend, the most important and the most trustworthy, far more than Kerry Ben or Adel.

- I thought you would choose water, said the lich, after all, on the surface, you loved the elves to death.

- The Otherworldly Soul doesn't want to argue with the Lich about whether his love for elves is more than superficial - this guy is a porcupine who always walks around with a stinger, and it is harder to get him not to stab than to get him to change his position, anyway, this bastard will occasionally give in for profit or threats, but he wants the former undead to shut up in due time...... The souls of the other world don't know when and what poke at his hign point again. The tenant of the other world had always been deeply suspicious that the reason why he would have problems during a trip to the astral plane, which was not particularly dangerous for a high-level mage, was probably because he was always excited at the wrong time.

- Fire, the soul of the other world once again affirms that I choose fire.

- The elves hate fire.

- No, they only hate beings that destroy what they love, and for that matter, whether it's fire or water, thunder or wind, it's the same.

- If you start a fire that burns the remaining half of the Ash Ridge, the elves will eat you - don't forget that the Singh elves are good at roasting meat.

-- We can start small, safely. Said the soul of the other world.

As the early autumn grew, and the dry leaves, twigs, and mosses of the Grey Ridge grew, Cremar effortlessly picked up a handful and led them to the landslide where a fat otter had once been buried, where the grey rocks and sand were still accumulating, and the seedlings had not yet sprouted—he lit the moss, and the moss ignited the leaves, and the orange flames that danced on the leaves spread from all directions like innumerable little snakes to the branches, and the little smoke and sparks they produced were blown by the wind from above and the rushing starlight river.

- Come on, said the lich, since it's your own choice.

The memory of the soul from the other world was broken, but it remembered that it had been burned by a lighter, not by flames, but by the metal part burned by the flames, a rather cheap lighter, the blue flame was as long as a finger, and it was still burned by boiling water, The porridge was burned, and the pain they brought was also burning, accompanied by a flurry of heartbeats, and a little extra heat and touch would bring another wave of dull pain deep into the bone marrow, leaving a few dark black smooth scars after the injury healed, like birthmarks, which would take a long time to fade clean.

It has seen people on TV and in books taking coins out of a pan of oil, boiling water, or walking on charcoal, but it knows that it is either fake or there must be a trick in it.

The human body is fragile.

Cremar slowly rolled up his sleeves and stretched out his hands, a full ten knuckles longer than humans, pale and slender, with smooth skin like a carved alabaster, and bulging joints on his wrists.

Flames wrapped around his hands, scorched them, bright pale tongues protruding from between his fingers - fear them, do not depart from them, do not shrink from them, do not take your eyes off, they will be your sharpest spears, and your strongest shields, they will be your most faithful friends, your loveliest children, your dearest lovers - you have chosen them, they have chosen you, and you will exist for each other until one is destroyed.

- Do you feel the burning?" the lich asked, lowering his voice.

- I only felt the warmth, and the soul of the other world replied in a small voice, and although the conversation in the sea would never be heard by the outside world, he always felt that it was too loud to scare away some little creature who was probing his brain and running - lo and be, he said to the lich, showing another soul in his body a bright spot perched on his finger.

- It's too small, said the lich, and though I have my concerns, it's too small, what are you going to do with it?

- I think this suits me very well, said the otherworldly soul, he touched the bright spot with the index finger of his other hand, it became a little larger, and then stretched out several drifting tentacles from the white body, and wrapped one of the fingers around Kremar, as if trying to jump from the finger where it was originally sheltering to the finger that touched it, but it tripped over its own tentacles, and it fell, and its relationship with Kremar was limited to the finger that was curled, and its round body hung above the charred branch, and it swayed from side to side in a panicked posture that only elemental creatures have, and climbed up along the tentacle, wandering around for a while, finally deciding that Cremar's thumb nail cover is the best.

――In terms of personality and ability, I really match you, the former immortal sarcastically said.

The soul of the other world pretended not to hear, retrieved his hands from the fire, and the little spider climbed steadily from his fingernails to his palm, its temperature, as far as Cremar felt, was about fifty to sixty degrees, a little hot, but it was bearable, he slightly lowered the light, so that the little guy became less dazzling - to really see what it looked like, white carapace, purple eight round spherical eyes, six pairs of feet, like a real spider, the first pair of feet were sharp chelicera, with chelicera, Chelicate tip.

It proudly lifted itself to its new owner and companion, and struck its hard chelicera a few times (Cremar could hear the click), making more sparks than the fire.

Cremar raised his hand, intent only to gather more wind to prevent the sparks from drifting into the forest, but the twelve-legged fool seemed to misunderstand him, rubbing its chelicerae excitedly, making a hissing sound that no human could hear—the sparks suddenly swelled up and turned into blinding fireballs, each the size of a giant's head. The heat they produce as they burn can almost dry a pond, and while Kremar is immune to most energy damage, his breath still feels like he has spit out and swallowed a living flame.

The black-haired spellcaster almost instinctively turned his finger towards the Starlight River, and the fireballs that were thrown into the gentle river created a thick mist that almost wiped out half of the riverbank's banks with a loud crackling sound, but fortunately there were few fish in the Starlight River in early autumn, otherwise he would have been able to smell the delicious aroma of the fish soup.

No, it can't be said that there was no damage, and as the fog was about to lift, a chubby brown otter jumped out of the water and shouted angrily at Cremar - the hair on its head to its back was charred and blackened, and it had beautiful little curls, and two bubbles on its paws had been burned, and it had lost its favorite stone—and in order to appease it, Cremar took out all the maple candy and a small bottle of snow honey that had been exchanged from Kerry Ben, and promised three fresh salmon no shorter than its forearms. It can't be cooked.

- Maybe not so bad, the lich finally commented.

;