Chapter 18


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    The documents I received turned out to be odd. To begin with, it was permission to form a combined detachment, and I, as the person in charge, was to collect, arm, and train them. An important point: in obtaining this permission (not even by signing it, just by getting it!) I undertook to "provide sufficient skills" to guarantee the employment of each ward.


    Yeah, yeah, I also thought it looked like the beginning of some murky quest in a B-ranked RPG... but I chose the setting myself. And it''s probably just another nudge towards the Allied System. No, well, if you pick on the wording, then you can bring them a stack of self-study books, and let them educate themselves. But something tells me not to contradict the spirit of what is printed and do it properly.


    Messenger Marius, level 9


    Somehow I pump up too easily. It''s like I''m being boosted on purpose. For what purpose? I vaguely guess, but what if it doesn''t work until I say it out loud? On the other hand, maybe our world is a sandbox and there are just no high ones? But then where do they go?


    "Boss, let''s go?"


    I looked around, Junior was standing at the door with a bag over his shoulders. Great bot, eager to work himself!


    "Let''s go. Do you have money for the day?"


    "I have, Boss."


    "Do you need more?"


    "I need, Boss. I gonna buy one thing then resell it."


    Feel like a scoundrel - spending money earned by an underage slave. Junior''s not even a week old! He''s been working all day, and all he''s earned is given to me, so how is that fair? Well, I might as well give some of it back, let him have his fun.


    In the seventh hall, work was already in full swing: the storekeeper was staring dully at the wall, and the Sage was explaining something to Glasses-kid: "Parents influence their children, seeing in them unconsciously an extension of themselves. So it turns out that in a family of werewolves with a "wolf disembodied" little puppies grow up. No accidental infection or ritual bites, everything is simpler and more logical."


    "Then there must be a reverse effect?"


    "Of course, but a child''s mind is more controllable. And adults have gained more power over the years, so children are like their parents, not the other way around."


    It''s a sweet picture of a venerable old man explaining to a young man where babies come from.


    "Hello. folks!"


    The two of them twitched, and the storekeeper pretended to be an NPC and continued staring at the wall. Although who the hell knows, maybe he''s staring through space and time right now.


    "Hi. Keeping it up, TikTok star?"


    "I''ll hit you."


    The bespectacled kid didn''t get scared, instead, he quickly tapped the phone and demonstrated the development of the meme with me. This time there were two of me: filmed yesterday as Junior and I walked and captioned it "Happy fat people multiply! Two of them already!" and all sorts of insinuations about when my critical mass will fill the entire land space. With a shrug, I crouched on the bench and began to think about what feat to accomplish today.


    First, we should take to the pharmacy ingredients for the daily quest - earnings are small, but the information channel is constant. Also need to find out where the skills are taken and what kind of System there. Check prices, to figure out what the budget will be for me to train all the survivors. Besides, how do you learn these skills? Will I have to buy a hundred smartphones and provide for each ward, or will one be enough?


    Next - to go to the stone circle... brrr, I don''t want to, but people are waiting. To discuss the prospects, maybe they would like to roast in the sun there. By the way, don''t just go, but with gifts. Because I''m their owner now, and it''s not all that easy to accept, we must do something to distract them. Maybe I shouldn''t say anything. Mm-hmm, and it will come out at the most inopportune moment.


    "What are you thinking about?"


    Goggles-kid sit beside me, disgustingly energetic and cheerful. Eh, youth...


    "Making plans to conquer the world."


    So, I still need to pick up merchandise in the world of the setting, for sale. There''s a lot of shopping to be done, weapons and armor, and yesterday I thought I''d expand the definition base in the scanner, and books are expensive there. More bottles again? I''ll lower the price, it is better to consult with the Guild of traders.


    Goggles-kid interrupted the thought again: "And I changed my title! Look," and he shoved a screen under my nose. "I''m now a Hero of the Delivery System."


    Sage and I responded in two voices:


    "Idiot."


    "Donkey!"


    And even the storekeeper shook his head sadly. The Main, now officially, Hero, frowned.


    "Listen, four-eyes, you''ve been brainwashed for a reason about unreal. Every word and every move is for a reason. And you signed up for the most disgusting role!"


    "Come on, you''re the "Messenger" yourself!"


    "And this gives me certain freedom of action. Plus it guarantees some kind of immunity because it is not customary to cut up messengers."


    Sage snickered skeptically, but I continued to pretend that I had everything under control: "And now you''re a "Hero" and they''re going to stick you where it''s hottest!"


    "I want to do it myself!" He jumped up and paced back and forth angrily. "Look, we''re involved in miracles!"


    "We''re screwed."


    "The world is very different, it''s wider, brighter!"


    "You just cleaned your glasses."


    "We can change it!"


    "And no one will notice it."


    Do you really want to sit here in the doghouse instead of... all this! - And he pointed outside the unwashed window. I guessed how much I had to do, and nodded in agreement. Goggles-kid just rolled his eyes and sat back angrily.


    Explaining to a man his irrefutable faults is hopeless. He wouldn''t believe me anyway, so I was back on the list. But they tried to drag me into the conversation again: "Have you seen the warlock lately?"


    Tearing myself away from the to-do list, I tried to remember: "A few days ago."


    Hero nodded: "Yeah, right at the time the demons showed up. And he could see them without a scanner!"


    "Do you think he''s been eaten?"


    "Or he found out something."


    "So sit back and wait. You''re a Hero, and if it''s about Delivery, you''ll soon be called up and thrown into action."


    "I''m sick of waiting!"


    I didn''t want to talk to the stupid teenager, so I defiantly put my headphones in my ears. So, where to start? I should probably go get something to eat. If I''m a star now, and I''m recognizable, I need to stay in shape.


    There was one inconvenience in delivery work, though. In any restaurant, when they saw my cape and bag, they would immediately ask what kind of order I had come for. And I was a customer in my own right, it was my day off!


    Putting the tray on a vacant table, I opened the board and thought about it. I need to find someone who either trades skills or creates them. Buying at auction is filling someone else''s pocket. I barely have enough points to pay for my room and recharge my gadgets. Well, it''s not that bad, but skills, especially combat ones, probably cost more? So let it be something like:The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Experienced traveler between the worlds of magical settings looking for an order from the staff of the Skills System, payment is negotiable.


    Nothing else came to mind. The hell knows who they are in their System of Skills, and what to lure them with. I had to trust the System, to see if it would lead me there. After a bit of tinkering with the settings, I restricted access to the message to those who should receive it, agreed to the price of publication, and pressed "send". Now we will wait.


    All this thinking about what needed to be done, and in what order, made my head feel uncomfortable and rumbling. I was definitely forgetting something, but what? Just in case, I pulled out my phone and quickly scanned my surroundings, then the tray of food. A girl sitting at a nearby table rolled her eyes. And I''m not one of those at all! This is different!


    Although... If you think about it, the trend of taking pictures of food may not just be the fashion. It could have appeared when someone in the system scanned the plate in public, and the civilians were pissed off. Ouch, the hell with all this crap!


    The phone bleeped as I finished and licked my fingers.


    "Hello?"


    "Did you post that ad?"


    "Clarify?"


    Did Junior do it?


    "Well, you''re the traveler..." The interlocutor hesitated, but he finished. "Between worlds?"


    No, he didn''t.


    "That''s me. Are you from Skills?"


    "Yes... I guess."


    "I''m sorry, are you guessing or are you really are?"


    "I really am."


    "Ok."


    I picked up my bag and went outside.


    "So what can I do for the Creators?"


    "We..." From the voices on the other side of the line, there was a quick discussion. "We''d like to hire you."


    "This is perfectly in line with my intentions. Where would you like to meet? I would like to talk to you in person."


    There was another murmur and I was told the address and room number in a whisper.


    Judging by the map, the business center of the old building.


    "Okay, I''ll be there in twenty minutes."


    The caller was puzzled and then disconnected. Well, what else am I going to see strange now? Who can those who create skills be? For some reason, I imagined people in oriental armor performing some kind of kata in front of a chromakey. Now we''ll see.


    I did not bother the guard at the entrance, immediately jumped through the glass into the hallway, to the stairs. From the second floor, I summoned the elevator, went to the seventh floor, and walked down the unpleasantly dark corridor. Almost remembered yesterday, but then one door swung open and some women rustled past. I was relieved. Finally, I stopped at another faceless door, knocked, and opened it.


    In the center of the big room sat a guy a little older than me, pushing his leg around in his chair, looking at the long rows of monitors. When he noticed the intrusion, he was surprised:


    "I didn''t order anything, are you sure you''re at the right address?"


    "Absolutely, if you gave me the right address in a recent conversation."


    The reaction was quite strange - he jumped up, froze, then squeezed past me and ran down the corridor. I had never been greeted like that before, but since he didn''t convince me that it wasn''t him, then it was him. I went in and looked around: a mixture of a computer club and an online store. Along the walls are tables, a line of monitors, under the tables - boxes of system units, in the corners of the piles of boxes. And right in the middle was a nice chair on wheels.


    All that spoke of the otherworldly was the emblem printed on a meter-long sheet of paper, a stylized rack of scrolls hanging on the wall. That''s it, Skills.


    "Hm!"


    While I was staring behind me at the door, a whole bunch of people gathered. Judging by the cast, this is a small sitcom, maybe even an Internet series. Typical cast: the protagonist, a tall, sturdy young man. Next to him is a mischievous young genius. There''s also an affectation girl with secrets, a stern man from the farm, and the obligatory rastaman with dreadlocks.


    And a guest star played by me.


    The mischievous young genius suddenly pointed his finger joyfully in my direction:


    "I know you!"


    What, another meme geek?


    "You''re the idiot who forgot to turn off the camera after the stream!"


    This shame will be remembered forever.


    "Yes, that was me. And you just raised the delivery price by twenty percent."


    Suddenly the Stern one grabbed the bumpy-haired boy by the shoulder and shook him. The girl and the elf looked at him reproachfully. The boy cringed, and even mumbled an "excuse me". Clearly, they''re up to something big here.


    "Okay, let''s start with your problems. What to deliver and where?"


    They looked at each other, and the Chief spoke for everyone:


    "We need to find a Potion of Medium Healing. There is information that it can cure any disease..."


    I clarified: "Almost anything. For an ordinary mortal."


    "Have you delivered these before?"


    "I don''t. Do you need it urgently?"


    Everyone looked back at the stern one, he nodded uncertainly, and I started estimating:


    "Well... If we make an order now, then tomorrow evening, maybe the day after tomorrow in the morning I will bring it." I remember the pharmacist specified. "You can take a local, it''s not far but the effectiveness is much less."


    The skillsters... or are they skillers?... looked at each other puzzled. The protagonist cautiously asked:


    "So it''s not too difficult for you?"


    People should value your work! So I made an indifferent face and told the plain truth: "Difficult? I almost got eaten four times in one trip yesterday. Three times by dead men and one by some kind of terrestrial lizard. It was a typical day at my job."


    The team was impressed. The stern man began to explain: "You see... I have a daughter, she''s sick. I can show you the papers, I have everything with me, there are tests. I did this shit just for such a chance!"


    He suddenly began to shake, and the "rastaman" put his hand on the shoulder soothingly. Well, if it''s that serious: "Guys, for me this potion is just another order. I know roughly where to buy it, the System will build a path, if it doesn''t kill me, I''ll bring it... but how about the day after tomorrow? Work piled on top of the crap. Can you stand it?"


    Stern one nodded.


    "Okay, there''s a conversion button in the forum posting form, so type in the text, like you''re writing a receipt, and click that button. "I, so-and-so, trust Delivery System Messenger Marius to purchase a Potion of Medium Healing with the allocated funds. Payment for the work upon receipt."


    Everyone stared at their phones, then started whispering. Finally, it beeped, and I checked the app.


    A personal quest was created


    Accept


    Yes/No


    The amount of the reward offered gave me a bit of a shock. No, I remember that the Creators are the richest of the Systems, but I did not expect a four-figure sum. And it''s not in "points", it''s in "coins"!


    "Well, folks, I''m gonna show myself to be a very bad businessman."


    After all, I have to do business with them. Sighing sadly to myself about the lost profits (and the doubling bonus is still active!) I explained: "The potion you want costs about a hundred times less. I am very fond of money, but I still have a conscience."


    After staring in amazement at the fool who had rejected nearly a million points, the team started whispering again. Weeping somewhere inside from the lost profits, I stared at the same computer. On the monitor, a typical handsome man from a typical Korean mobile wanker was banging on a mannequin somewhere in the middle of the training ground. There was no weird oriental armor on him, he would have been a waist-high goal, but there was a progress bar with the explanation "Fist Fighting, 1 level" already almost full and the reverse timer glowed above it, another twenty minutes and something would be up.


    "Hey, folks? Is this the skill?"


    "Yes, he''s pumping second-rank fistfighting," the Protagonist replied, in the same tone I used to explain the complexities of my job.


    "And how much is the second level pumped?"


    "Ten hours, plus an hour from zero to one."


    An hour from zero to one... feel the difference, my Junior''s first rank of "trade", how much did he pump? A day?


    "You don''t even control it?"


    "There''s a spirit there, he can pump up to three on his own."


    And then they started whispering again.


    Is the spirit some kind of advanced dummy?


    Let''s estimate - one comp gives two skills of the second level per day. Cost... quickly checked with the auction, then walked along the row of tables, looking at the same game interfaces. Twenty machines at two skills are four hundred coins per day. Trying to convert to points... I froze.


    That''s why I''m not a Creator?! Three weeks of doing quests, knee-deep in mud, dead men and demons! That''s how much they make in a day!


    I should have taken what was offered! It wouldn''t have cost them anything.


    "Ahem. Explain, please - do you want another reward? Which one?"


    I looked at their tense faces, and I began to realize something. I''m the one who gets bounced around worlds and settings, seeing demons, spirits, centaurs, and catgirls. And the guys are stupidly pumping skills with the computer, selling in the app - no wonders other than routine. I defined it correctly, a typical comedy of situations in a workplace interior.


    Perhaps it''s time to show off. I poked under my feet, then toward one of the computers, and stood up and took a step. The team, jerked and scolded as I teleported across the room, but I just glanced in their direction and stared at the computer: My teleportation across the room made the team twitch and swear, but I just glanced in their direction and stared at the computer:


    "How do you pump up skills? And how do you sell them?"


    The question was not expected, they began to look at each other.


    "Let me explain - I need to provide a squad of adventurers with skills. I''m willing to buy, direct from the manufacturer. How much would you ask?"


    "Level?"


    "The second level is what?"


    The Chief answered: "A level two is roughly analogous to a six-month training session. A three is a year of exercise and competition. The fifth rank is the maximum we have, but that''s a month to pump, there''s nothing right now."


    I checked the auction that wasn''t yet closed. The fifth rank of "sword-fighting" was worth three hundred thousand points. I''m doing the wrong thing, oh, the wrong thing!


    "There are a hundred people stuck in the netherworld. I can get them out, but I can''t bring them back here, they''ll die, and they need to be able to do something there. I can get them out, I''ve already got permission. How much would it cost, directly from the manufacturer, one hundred and twenty level three skills?"


    There was another look at each other, then Severe carefully clarified: "What''s in it for you? What do you get?"


    It was even a little embarrassing to answer.


    "Uh, nothing... just.... Well... you can''t just leave them there, can you?"


    It looks like I''m being looked at like an idiot again. Well, I''ll take solace in the fact that I''m an indispensable idiot. The team turned around and stared at me with determined looks. I braced myself for the scary part.


    "So, we need..."


    And immediately the Chief was interrupted:


    "Potion of Beauty."


    "Booster for Intellect!"


    "I''ll have this one healing and a bigger one! What if one doesn''t work?"


    "I don''t know, dude, I''d like something that''s interesting."


    The chief sighed and added his own:


    "A Potion of skill purification - is there such a thing? And of course, everything has to be of high quality. In return, we''ll give you a hundred weapon skills with one combat move in each. In three days, will that work?"


    I literally feel like my storyline epic quest has started to sprawl into subquests...


    "Let''s discuss the details."


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