Chapter 8:

A Pleasant Day in Every Way

The morning was truly wonderful. Perhaps it was the air of my home world, or maybe the Minor Regeneration was making itself known, but my mood was better than ever. Especially since two days of leave hinted at a wild time, it was a shame I had so many things planned.

"Back to your young mistress, Decurion Irchin?" Arel said cheerfully, exiting the barracks at the same time as me. Unlike my former scout Rekel, he hadn't even been whipped into unconsciousness for disobeying an order; he was just transferred to another squad.

A sharp jab to the chin with my left hand, and he didn't even have time to realize how his face had met the floor. He must have already had a little too much to drink if he couldn't keep his mouth shut. But it happens; after a battle, the nerves go haywire, and here it's home, it's safety, so it happens.

"I don't like it when she's called that," I said as if into a void, completely calm, bending down to Arel, who was just beginning to come to.

I stepped on his left hand, pinned it to the floor, and with a sharp, precise downward movement of my sword, I cut off his pinky finger. A hysterical cry of pain filled the barracks of the seventh company. For a moment, all the goblins near us froze in horror.

"Take him to the infirmary," I said, pointing to two from the second squad.

They abruptly lifted the howling Arel and dragged him out of my sight. The floor was covered in a decent pool of blood. While the coward was thrashing in an attempt to stop the bleeding, he spread huge stains. Everyone stood silently, waiting for the rest of the punishment.

"You two, clean up the barracks." Two young goblins bowed their heads but didn't dare to say anything in protest.

"Alright, break it up, now!" shouted Zhurek as he approached. "Staring at the show, or does someone else have enough sense to make a joke about Decurion Irchin? Who here has more than five fingers on their hand?"

We left the barracks together. We definitely weren't friends; there was a more than 15-year age difference, and we never talked about personal things. We each had our own business in the city. I had heard that Lurion Zhurek had a small farm in the suburbs. Not huge plantations, just an investment for old age. So hearing those words from him was unexpected.

"Decurion Irchin, no offense, but you should take a closer look at your June. Isn't she a little too good-looking? My wife looks like an old hag next to her. It's just a concern, don't get me wrong," he finished in a faltering voice, and judging by his darting eyes, he was not happy that he had started this conversation.

"Thank you, Zhurek," I said as neutrally as possible, looking him in the eyes. "I will be careful."

He was slightly flustered for a moment and, after shaking my hand, went about his business. And I still had a rather unpleasant task ahead of me.

At the fortress warehouse, the chief enemy of any soldier or officer, the quartermaster, was waiting for me in his expensively furnished office, behind a massive wooden desk. His purpose in life was to save money and find ways not to give a soldier the equipment he was owed, and all the necessary gear for a mission.

"Mister Irchin, it's good to see you again. How was the mission? Is everything well? Ah, I see your arm is injured. Oh, excuse me, please, have a seat," the quartermaster began to speak quickly, jumping from topic to topic. He was a middle-aged hobgoblin, but unlike most, he had a very fat figure and liked to gesticulate in front of his face while talking.

"Hello, Mister Ulesur. I'm here on a very delicate matter. I need a special skill card, and I want to buy it. But first, at half price..."

"Mister Irchin, what are you talking about, half price?" the quartermaster interrupted, throwing up his hands emotionally. But when he looked me in the eyes, he stopped himself and continued to listen.

"And second, the card must be filled with as much SP as possible."

At that, Ulesur couldn't take it and even jumped up from his desk.

"Mister Irchin, but you understand, I can't go along with this. Where has it ever been seen to sell an item at a loss? Even with a request from the Centurion, I can't sell a card on these terms," he said, nervously pacing back and forth. But looking at me more carefully, he finally began to understand what I was getting at. "And what card do you want?" he asked, nervously sitting back in his chair.

"An F-rank Chitinous Hide skill card. And yes, anticipating your question, I know everything about it, and most importantly, I know the price set for these garbage cards by the Miliurion himself."

"Are they really garbage?" the quartermaster asked in a mock-offended tone. But seeing my lack of positive emotions, he began to realize that I was going to learn this skill and turn into a semblance of an arachnid, which must have looked quite disgusting. And at that moment, his face also lost all cheerfulness. "Surely, with your experience, Mister Irchin, you haven't found any other options."

"No, I don't think there are any other options. All fun must come to an end sometime, Mister Ulesur," I said calmly.

Ulesur's vision unfocused. When he looked at me again, the card was already in his hand. After all, Storage Rings aren't the same thing as a Bag of Holding.

"Here is the card. Of course, it's not completely filled, but I simply don't have one with a large amount of SP, and I can't make the price of 5 SP any lower," he said with an apologetic tone.

"Thank you, this is more than enough." I got up from the table, took the card, and looked at its description.

Skill Card - Chitinous Hide (1/5)
Rank F
Description: A chitinous covering of medium-sized plates appears on the body, slightly increasing the body's defense in exchange for a slight loss of mobility.
Upon learning, chance of success 79%, chance of death 14%
Saturation: 8/10 SP

"I'll draw up the documents and send them to Mister Tarak for his signature. Then the bank will receive the information about the transfer of funds."

It might seem that so much fuss over just 5 SP is excessive, but if you remember that this is a junior officer's salary for six months, it all makes more sense. Especially if you know that our Miliurion set the price for these useless garbage cards at 1 SP, since skills like mine had been lying in warehouses by the thousands, unclaimed for decades. Who would he sell them to? They drop from arachnids and the like, but the bugs themselves don't need this skill as it's innate. So the quartermaster would get his pretty good percentage from this sale.

"Does Mister Irchin want to buy anything else?" Ulesur asked from behind me.

"I think this will be enough for now," I said, leaving the quartermaster's office.

"It was a pleasure to help, Mister Irchin." Ulesur stood up from his desk, seeing me off.

For a moment, it even seemed to me that he felt sorry for me, which was especially pleasant because of the deception. After all, the choice of this skill was not hopelessness but a simple necessity to hide the scars that had begun to disappear, of which there were many, even on my face. And it would be extremely difficult to explain the obviously rejuvenated skin. I would say it would be fatal in my case. After all, I definitely had no adequate way to explain this phenomenon. Because even if you increase the Vitality attribute, the scars don't disappear. A good way out of this situation would have been to officially acquire the Regeneration skill, but there was simply no way to get 200 SP.

The next stop on my route was a visit to the bank. I needed to get my accumulated SP, and my share should have already been transferred to my account.

"Good day, Mister Irchin. You are wounded. Do you need help?" a young, pretty goblin bank employee asked anxiously.

"Thank you, I'm fine. I've come to pick up my accumulated experience."

"Of course. Please, follow me." She was courteous and polite. Young and beautiful. I guess it couldn't be any other way; why would they keep just anyone here?

She led me to a closed section, where a storage container with my experience had already been delivered to a separate room. I was left alone in the room. Before the mission to the world of Pakkot, I had 15 SP on my balance; there was simply no way to spend them properly. Placing my hand on a faceted stone the size of my fist, I felt how much experience was in it. 45 SP? How could that be? It was a good thing there was no one in the room. I even started shaking with anger. And as if to mock me, as if someone knew I would be furious, a form filled out in beautiful handwriting and, most importantly, with a seal was lying next to the accumulator.

List of SP Accrual:

• -2% for resources obtained personally by Decurion Irchin's squad — 25 SP

• Bonus for brave performance of official duties and reconnaissance — 5 SP

• Balance before funds received — 15 SP

• Considering receipts, the current balance is: 45 SP

And at the very bottom of the table, it was written in a sprawling hand:

"This is even too much for the old Malicious one."

Surprisingly, I suppressed my anger quite quickly as soon as I realized how much SP I had stolen. After all, I was now level 18. Yes, by my calculations, the percentage from the loot should have been around 100 SP; there's no need to even mention the additional bonuses. Well, they withheld the funds I earned; what does it change? Proving or arguing didn't make much sense in a normal situation, and now with the Minor Deceit skill, it was simply dangerous to be in the sight of high-ranking bosses. But the note was, to put it mildly, unpleasant, especially because it was unclear who had decided to leave it, as well as the form itself. After all, the seal was from this bank.

I took 40 SP; now they were mine. I left 5 SP in the account; they would be deducted for the skill card I had bought from Quartermaster Ulesur. When I was done, I opened the door, where the same charmingly smiling employee was waiting for me. All the pleasant impression was ruined by the two guards standing behind her, who shouldn't have been there.

"Mister Irchin, can I help you with anything else?" she smiled radiantly.

"Of course you can, but not here and not now," I said in a hoarse, sepulchral old voice. She flinched, and the smile slipped from her face. "It would be especially good if you were there with these friends after work so I don't have to look for you individually."

And I laughed, a malicious, cackling laugh. I left in a deathly silence. The employee remained in the closed section, nervously twisting a long strand of her hair. The two guards followed me; their faces were pale, as if they had unknowingly gotten themselves into an unpleasant situation they had nothing to do with before this moment. And that's exactly what had happened. Crime in our city had not been abolished, and military-trained crime, honed in hundreds of battles, even more so. After all, I had no one else to ask about that form besides these three, and they probably understood that now, too.

As I walked home to my June, I didn't make any treacherous plans for revenge on the bank employees; I had a lot of things planned for tonight. But first, I needed to stop by a tavern on the way and have a good drink.

The Drunken Ptur establishment greeted me with noise and cheerful laughter. Visiting this dive had become an integral tradition for me, although in recent years, I could easily afford a much more decent place. Despite the shabbiness of the tavern, they had a room on the second floor with decent furniture and decor, not roughly knocked-together benches for the soldiers. Several decurions from the third company were already sitting there.

"Mister Irchin, sit with us," a young decurion, who was already obviously tipsy, waved his hand at me from across the room.

I sat down with this group, hoping to learn a few details about our mission and our rapid retreat. I couldn't believe that the senior officers had trusted my words so easily. But I didn't manage to find out anything worthwhile. And after drinking a good amount of wine, all the conversations went off track to women anyway.

It turned out that my Minor Regeneration skill easily neutralized the alcohol, and all these drunken conversations, which used to be a pleasure, began to irritate my gray head. And after two hours, everything devolved into a typical drunken brawl. And it started, you could say, as usual. Many who knew me personally were bothered by the concubine who had recently appeared in my life.

This obsessive desire to pry into my personal life had begun about six months ago for the goblins who knew me. One day, after returning from a long patrol where our platoon had been wandering through the wild forests for almost two decades, I was heading to this same tavern. But that day, I didn't get to drink. The owner of the dive caught me at the entrance and said that a certain woman was looking for Decurion Irchin and wanted to meet him in the backyard. The result of a whole hour of weepy storytelling was, in a nutshell:

A young, 19-year-old June, who had been widowed six months ago and had lost all means of subsistence.

Four small, green-bellied brats from 1 to 4 years old.

On the condition that June became my concubine, I was obligated to take on the material expenses and provide them with everything they needed. The downsides were significant; feeding 5 extra mouths was not cheap, but in principle, it was not too burdensome for my income. The plus side was that I got a young, beautiful, and probably even too beautiful, concubine for the rest of my life.

That's when it all started. It turned out that everyone now wanted to express their opinion to the old decurion about the happiness that had come in his old age or the improbability of what had happened. And this time, too, the drunken goblins decided to discuss my concubine's figure in the most unflattering way. A few short blows to the ribs, and they could go their separate ways, or lie down, as in the case of my failed drinking companions.

I paid and, so as not to ruin the legend, shuffled home with a drunken gait. The way was not short. I had bought my house when I was young and ambitious, as it seemed to me, on the very outskirts of our city. It took me almost an hour, limping slowly and cradling my wounded right arm, to get to my native corner. I reached the gate of my house at dusk, so I finally decided to take off my helmet and hang it on my belt. And I looked at the world around me with the help of the Eye of Darkness.

Yes, this skill was worth it; I could see small bugs scurrying at the end of the block and my neighbor sitting in his yard almost five hundred paces away from me, even better than in the daytime.

Turning to the gate, I began to knock and shout in a drunken voice, "June, where have you been? Open up, JUNE!"

And I myself looked through the steel bars of the gate at my house, and warmth spread through my soul. How much money I had invested in it. The stone fence, the walls of the house were also made of well-hewn stone, and it was no less than 20 paces long. Sturdy wooden doors, a huge basement, no smaller in area than the main rooms on the first floor. I had paid for everything in my house with blood, sometimes my own, but more often someone else's. How many lives it had cost, how many had died and given up their SP for the comfort I had surrounded myself with. With these sad thoughts, and they were happening more and more often, I guess I really was getting old, the gate opened.

"Mister, I'm sorry," she said, her hair disheveled, her eyes wide open. "I was in the basement and didn't hear you right away. I'm sorry, Mister."

"If you make me wait again, I'll throw you out on the street with your pups," I shouted back in a drunken voice and pushed her to the ground.

With a drunken, unsteady gait, I hobbled into the house. And in the meantime, I was thinking that I had more oil lamps at the entrance to my house than probably in all the nearby houses combined. I never skimped on that. It seemed to me that it created a special cozy feeling when your path home was lit in the shadows.

June, in the meantime, got up from the ground, closed the gate, and trotted a little behind me. We went into the house. The children were making noise in the far living room, and they were barely audible. But my enhanced perception now allowed me to distinguish even such quiet sounds. Without stopping, I immediately went down to the basement. I had a private room there with a fortified iron door. When we entered, I closed it with a massive bolt.

"Tell me, June, how are things in general? What was happening while I was away? And about our problem," I said with warmth in my voice, already sitting in my favorite armchair at the table. Of course, the furniture wasn't very expensive, but I didn't buy frankly bad things either.

"Mister, little Ryu got a little sick, and I took him to the healer, so I spent a little more this month," she said, looking at the floor and rubbing her bruised shoulder.

"How many times have I told you to train? Why did you fall like a sack of grain and even injure your shoulder?" I said angrily. "What's stopping you from following my instructions at the training ground?"

"Mister, I am training. You just pushed me too unexpectedly," she said, bowing her head and sniffing a little.

"Alright, I'll check on that later. What was happening in the city while I was on the mission?"

"Mister, there are rumors that small merchants have started disappearing on the roads again. They say it's in the northern direction. They even say that a small squad of mercenaries has disappeared, but it's all just marketplace gossip. They also say that the snow will block the pass a month earlier this year."

"Okay, we can talk about that later. What about our sore spot?"

"Mister, Shaor is furious and is threatening to take one of my children." Here, her voice trembled, and in the lamplight, you could see her eyes glistening with tears. But she composed herself and continued. "He says that I just enjoy warming your bed and that I'm deliberately dragging things out and that his patience is at its end."

"Perfect. Everything is working out as well as it can be." I smiled predatorily and asked, "Are they in the city or have they gone on a raid?"

"Mister, the gossip about the army's return spread throughout the city yesterday. A goblin from Shaor came this morning. They are waiting for my signal."

"June, take the children to the neighbor's right now, until tomorrow morning. It's going to be very noisy tonight." I smiled in anticipation of the pleasure, but my concubine understood it in her own way.

"Mister, should I warm your bed tonight?" she asked uncertainly.

"No, June. I was thinking of something a little different, although that's also a good idea. I definitely won't be able to relax anytime soon," I said thoughtfully. "Take the children and come down to me in an hour. Arrange a delicious dinner. I'm going to be starving."

June turned and ran off to follow the instructions. Of course, judging by the expression on her face, she had misunderstood me. Although she usually catches on to everything instantly. And she knows how to think, which is a rarity. A week after we met, she herself told me that a local bandit leader named Shaor had put her in my bed. He had some influence in our part of the city. And his gang wasn't small either, about 20 goblins. Of course, I knew that the city guards hadn't disbanded these weaklings only because of their complete loyalty to one of the centurions.

So it turned out that there were rumors among the senior officers about my excessive wealth. They said the decurion had accumulated untold treasures during his long service. My house alone was worth a lot. So it was time for the old man to share his treasures. How were they to know that I had never had anything truly valuable?

But the previous incident five years ago was preventing them from openly taking my imaginary treasures. The death of a dozen thugs in a dark alley clearly showed all interested parties the folly of a direct attack on the old decurion. So Shaor came up with a brilliant plan to poison the rich man with his own concubine. It was even easier with June; first, they stole her child and gave her a choice. And now they were waiting impatiently for the right moment for my return from the mission.

Of course, June's confession was not a revelation for me. I was old, but I wasn't out of my mind yet. So I always slept alone in my fortified basement. And there was no way to open the steel-reinforced door, which was a full palm thick, without using magic or alchemy. I later ordered her to report this to Shaor, and with that, after each mission, she was to tell him about a new fictional treasure. This only fueled his impatience. A new Bag of Holding or a couple of blank E-rank skill cards. All this time, I had been waiting for the builders to finish the well in my cellar. And today, as they say, all the stars aligned. The neighbors had seen my wounded arm and how drunk I was. There couldn't have been a better time to attack me.

I closed the door with the bolt, took off my armor; it was a shame to part with it, it had served me well, but I wouldn't be able to wear it again. And I lay down on the bed.

[You have 3 free attribute points available.]

I immediately added 3 points to Strength. After the transformation, it would be equal to 8 units, and my height would increase by at least half a cubit. A wave of pain rolled through my body, and I lost consciousness. I woke up to a knock on the door. Someone was knocking on it insistently. It took me a moment to realize where I was, but that state didn't last for more than a couple of breaths. I got to my feet with great difficulty. Everything was swimming before my eyes; every movement was painful, but it was mostly a pleasant kind of pain. Opening the door in such a state would have been a reckless decision, so I didn't open it.

"Stop knocking," I hissed. My throat was dry; I was very thirsty. "What's wrong?"

"Mister, you didn't answer. I've been knocking for ten minutes," June said with alarm in her voice.

"Wait a minute. I'll get myself together," I rasped.

First, I drank some water. My body was begging for more, like a sponge. But at the same time, I immediately felt better. I examined my body and was generally satisfied. Of course, I had seen larger goblins with 8 Strength units, but this was even better. After all, my attributes would show 7 Strength units for everyone. I would still have to get used to the muscle reactions, and I probably needed to reconsider the size and weight of my weapons for the next mission. And I could take a bigger shield.

The only bad thing was that my Stamina would clearly not be enough, and I had to always remember that. After putting on a spacious suit, I opened the door. June silently slipped inside with a tray in her hands. I was standing behind the door, and she didn't see me. After putting the food on the table, she finally turned to me.

A shocked June even opened her mouth, and her big, surprised eyes made her especially beautiful. And what can I say? Such a reaction flattered even me. Well, the goal I had been working toward for several years had not only been achieved but had been exceeded so much that I couldn't have even dreamed of it.

"Mister, is that really you?" June asked, overcoming her surprise.

"Still me for now. Did I change so much?" I said in a heavier voice that was nothing like my old one.

"Mister, even your face looks ten years younger, and there are no scars at all," she said, looking at me with interest.

"No scars, you say? I thought so," I said, drawing it out thoughtfully.

After eating all the food she brought, I still couldn't get enough. My body was demanding more. The rest of the dinner was also pleasant. After getting dressed again, I sat down at the table and began to list her instructions again.

"Make sure you convince them to bring as many goblins as possible. Cry, shed tears, remind them of that incident with the ten robbers. But at the same time, don't forget to tell them how drunk I was and how badly my arm was injured under the bandages. That should dull their vigilance. If they refuse to come tonight, tell them that tomorrow I'm going to return to the city infirmary to treat my arm, and tonight I just came to have some fun with my concubine. Remember, the main thing is for Shaor to come personally. Remind him how much treasure is in my room and that it can all only be carried away in a Bag of Holding. You'll remember what you made up about my treasures, won't you? Is that clear?" I said thoughtfully.

"Yes, Mister," June said, slowly getting dressed and styling her hair.

"When you enter the room, you must fall to the floor, no matter where you are. As soon as everyone enters my bedroom, fall. Do you understand?" I looked at her sternly. "You know what? Show me how you've been training."

"Mister, right now?" a half-undressed June looked at me in surprise.

She stood for a couple of breaths and, realizing that I wasn't going to answer, fell sharply to the floor.

"Mister, is this right?" she asked, lying in a ball.

"No. Why are you hugging your knees with your hands? Do you think that will help when someone steps on your stupid head with their foot?" I grumbled.

"No, Mister. I'm sorry," June said, offended.

"Alright, stop lying around on the floor. Go to Shaor and hurry them up, but not at the expense of the number of goblins. Understood?"

"Yes, Mister," June said, getting up and dusting off her clothes.

I closed the door with the bolt behind her. Now it was time for my final changes for today. I filled the card with the missing experience. I got undressed again; it would be a shame to ruin a good suit, and I had almost no clothes in larger sizes at home.

(98/180) SP

Skill Card - Chitinous Hide (1/5)
Rank F
Description: A chitinous covering of medium-sized plates appears on the body, slightly increasing the body's defense in exchange for a slight loss of mobility.
Upon learning, chance of success 84%, chance of death 11%
Saturation: 10/10 SP

The chances had changed for the better. Maybe I was wrong not to increase my Vitality and Stamina attributes. But for now, I didn't have any extra free attribute points. I hoped this was temporary.

[Notice] Learn the Chitinous Hide skill (10 SP)?

Yes/No

My body began to heat up. Sores appeared on my skin, then blisters. A sticky, thick, tar-like liquid flowed from the sores. The sensations were more mentally unpleasant than physically painful. It was hard to accept that my body was turning into an arachnid and that these changes were permanent. It would probably be even harder to come to terms with it in the future. But I couldn't think of any other way out.

In the meantime, the liquid spread all over my body and began to harden. The whole metamorphosis took no more than ten minutes. Hunger awoke again. Thankfully, June had brought me more food before she left. I examined my hands, torso, and legs. I touched my face. What was unusual was that my fingernails had sharpened and become several times thicker. When I touched the chitinous plates on my hand, the sensation was strange; I could feel the touch, but it was muffled. I was afraid that my tactile sensitivity would disappear completely, but that was not the case. I was able to cut the chitin on my hand with a knife with a little effort; of course, it wasn't armor yet, but such a movement would have ripped my skin to the bone. I walked over to the mirror.

Well, what can I say? This was a victory. I had never met a more terrifying and unpleasant creature. Even the spider guards didn't look so frightening. My whole face had become pointy and smooth, gleaming in the lamplight. My nose became flatter, and my ears turned into pointed shells. They felt like stone to the touch. All my hair was gone, as was my beard. The seams of the chitinous plates were clearly visible on my head. My eyes were covered by strong chitinous eyelids. And my movements felt a little stiff. I tried to open my second pair of eyes; it was the first time I had seen this from the outside. It looked organic, as if it was meant to be. The stinger shot out of my right hand even more easily than before. It felt like all these changes were in the same direction and complemented each other well. Because the Eye of Darkness was completely undetectable on my face in its inactive state; the chitinous eyelids fit so tightly together that they merged into a single whole. I put on the breastplate from my medium armor; as expected, I couldn't fasten it at the sides. To be honest, I had a faint hope of using at least some parts of the armor for a while. That would have saved me a decent amount of money.

Having stared at the monster in the mirror for long enough, I took off the breastplate and continued to improve my skills, because this was only the beginning.

[Notice] Do you want to upgrade the Chitinous Hide (1/5) skill (20 SP)?

Yes/No

Rank increased. Skill power slightly increased.

Select development path:
1. Slightly increases the durability of the chitinous hide.
2. The size of the chitinous plates decreases, their number increases, and mobility slightly increases.
3. The size of the chitinous plates increases, their number decreases, and mobility decreases.
4. Small spines appear on the chitinous plates.

(78/180) SP

I chose option 2. Mobility was more important to me at this stage, as defense was now secondary. Before I acquired the Minor Deceit skill, I wanted to use the Chitinous Hide for its intended purpose—to replace my medium armor—after increasing my Strength attribute. Now, I was only interested in this skill as a way to hide the fact that I had the Regeneration skill. And to make the acquisition of chitin as comfortable and unburdensome as possible.

I had some money now, so I could consider a medium-priced medium armor for a while. And over time, I could find something more worthy. The process of change began with a jolt. The chitin heated to a reddish glow; it seemed that in a moment, my body would boil like an egg in its shell. The shape of the plates changed slightly. They spread out into a large number of small, overlapping plates. Now, the covering looked vaguely like snake scales. I tried testing its durability with the knife again. It was a little tougher, but nothing exceptional. A good tanned leather armor was still more durable. But now, nothing restricted my movements, and that was the most important thing.

[Notice] Do you want to upgrade the Chitinous Hide (2/5) skill (40 SP)?

Yes/No

Rank increased. Skill power slightly increased.

Select development path:
1. Slightly increases the durability of the chitinous hide.
2. The thickness of the chitinous plates increases, slightly increasing durability.
3. The chitinous plates become flexible, slightly decreasing durability.
4. Small spines appear on the chitinous plates.

(38/180) SP

I chose the second option again. This metamorphosis was completely unnoticeable in terms of pain; perhaps only the feeling of hunger intensified. The chitinous hide seemed to swell all over my body and then hardened. On average, the thickness increased by a finger's width. And it began to look as if I had already put on armor. Now, the durability of the chitin, when I tested it with the knife, was able to surprise me. It was unpleasant to scrape at it. The plate on my hand resisted with difficulty, and it seemed that it was now easier to crack than to cut. The changes were over, at least for today, but who knows what would happen later.

Chapter 8.1

At Shaor's House

The gang leader was sitting in his office when he was informed that the lustful goblin June had finally arrived. Her excuses were starting to get annoying. Of course, he knew firsthand that the old decurion's temper was difficult. A year ago, on Shaor's orders, four of his strongest goblins from the gang started a fight in the tavern with Irchin the Malicious. Not only did he knock them all out while drunk, but as a punishment, he shattered each one's right knee. And the rumors about his methods of training young warriors were a little intimidating even to bandits.

Attempts to find the hidden treasures in the old decurion's house in his absence were unsuccessful. Perhaps the stash was too well disguised, or perhaps Irchin the Malicious took his valuables with him on missions. That's why Shaor had been patient for so long and continued to wait for June to gain enough of the old man's trust to be able to put poison in his food.

"I see you weren't in a hurry. So, did you have enough fun with the old man?" the bandit leader said mockingly.

"Mister Shaor, I succeeded. He was drunk as an animal and didn't refuse my food. And his right arm is badly disfigured by a wound; it's still bleeding," June said, smiling viciously.

"Finally," he said.

A commotion began. Someone was being sought. Some of the fighters were already asleep. When it was revealed that only six goblins would be sent, and that Shaor himself wasn't going, June fell to her knees in tears and began to wail.

"Six won't be enough. Mister, you remember that this old man can easily kill a dozen. They won't make it, please!"

A stinging slap to the face interrupted her stream of words.

"You said he ate the poisoned food. That poison makes people delirious for a couple of days. Did you lie to me, you old man's doormat?" Shaor loomed over her.

"Mister, the old man ate it all, but he has often boasted that he has a poison resistance skill. And without a Bag of Holding, it will be impossible to carry out his chest of coins and weapons," she pleaded.

Seeing that Shaor was hesitating, June continued to speak without getting up from the floor.

"And he also showed me a ring tonight and boasted that a centurion doesn't even have such a valuable item."

These words changed everything. A Storage Ring was not the kind of System artifact that could be entrusted to his subordinates. This was a matter of thousands of SP. So Shaor decided to go personally, taking almost all his subordinates with him. They left only four young goblins to guard the house, and only because they were practically useless.

The large squad of 16 fighters set out for the old decurion's house. June began to doubt whether she had made a mistake by inventing such an expensive artifact. What if they killed Mister Irchin with such a large group and, not finding the ring, would then kill her? Although in reality, it had been clear to her for a long time that as soon as she completed her task, Shaor wouldn't leave her alive. Maybe they would sell her into slavery in a neighboring province, but even that was hard to believe. A System knife to the throat and into the river. But not before they all had their fun with her.

They moved through the suburbs in complete darkness, without torches. They hoped to be seen by fewer passersby. But someone was constantly tripping, and even quiet curses echoed loudly through the night suburbs. So June wouldn't have been surprised if even a drunkard had woken up from the noise made by such a crowd. One goblin's sword rattled as he walked, another had metal-soled boots that clanged loudly with every step. But at least they tried to enter the house quietly.

Shaor lit an oil lamp near the decurion's bedroom in the house's basement. June went ahead and opened the door. In the dim light, the old man could be seen sleeping on the bed. The bandits slowly filtered into the room. It was a shame, but they didn't forget about her; one of the fighters grabbed her elbow and dragged her inside. Everyone entered and began to slowly walk around the bed on both sides, holding ropes at the ready.

The silence was so profound you could hear the goblins' heavy breathing in anticipation. Suddenly, the only lamp fell to the floor and went out. Someone shrieked; you could hear a body falling to the floor. Nothing was visible. June was already on the floor, curled up in a ball. The bandits began to scream frantically. Then, one choked on a scream, as if his throat had been cut, and another followed. The screams abruptly stopped. One of the bandits began to whimper in pain; from the other side, a quiet prayer could be heard, as someone's nerves gave out. There was no one to hope for now but the saints.

The lamp on the wall lit up so unexpectedly that it blinded June for a moment. The light was gone for no more than 20 heartbeats. On shaky legs, she got up, still not quite believing she was alive. Corpses lay all around. Some were still twitching in their death throes; blood was gushing from others. There was literally no free space on the floor due to the bodies.

"You didn't cover your stupid head with your hands again," an unfamiliar voice said from behind her.

This was so unexpected that June jumped in place, and a thought, inappropriate at that moment, flashed through her mind: How could he have seen in the complete darkness that she had forgotten to cover her head again? And it was hurtful to be called stupid again, but what was happening before her eyes instantly brought her back to reality. June hadn't even had time to turn around when he continued.

"Before I come, strip the clothes and weapons from the corpses. Check the bodies carefully for valuables, and only then throw them into the well. And clean up here." The voice was strange. June had never heard anything like it; it definitely didn't belong to Mister Irchin or any other goblin.

She turned, and her gaze fell upon Mister Irchin; it was definitely him. His favorite housecoat hid his figure, and the hood pulled over his head prevented her from seeing his face in the dim light of the single lamp. But June, on some instinct, imagined a terrifying mask instead of the familiar face of the old decurion.

"Yes, Mister, I'll do everything, and thank you, thank you, Mister," the young goblin began to repeat fearfully. Her nerves gave out, and tears streamed down her cheeks. A thought was spinning in her head. How right she was not to believe Shaor's tall tales. How he boasted that he would deal with the old decurion alone. His laughter and words that this old man was "all sand and bones." And June had almost believed him, because the bandits had more power on their side: twenty young goblins in their prime. And the old Mister Irchin, scarred from 30 years of service, with injuries and scars all over his body.

But a single week in his house, next to him, was enough for her. Those icy eyes could have belonged to a demon of the abyss, but not, no, not to an old man who was "all sand and bones." This decurion inspired fear, and Shaor's gang didn't create even a tenth of that impression. And most importantly, it seemed to June that he had known their entire plan even before she first opened her mouth and told her tearful story. No, she had tried her best to look convincing, just as Shaor had ordered. But when Mister Irchin said he agreed, she even flinched, because during the entire conversation, he hadn't blinked even once, let alone expressed any emotions.

And now, as almost the entire gang of Shaor, including himself, died before her eyes in an unequal fight. Yes, truly unequal. June didn't even have time to understand how it all happened. The light went out, it lit up again after ten heartbeats, and 16 dead goblins were already lying all around. And judging by the condition of Mister Irchin's clothes, he hadn't even been splattered with blood, let alone wounded. She had made the right decision by confessing everything. If she hadn't, she would be lying next to those failures right now.