31 THE WRONG TURN

Apparently, the sudden respect Cyril demonstrated was caused by the unexpected outcome of my "lesson." After a little while, he started to call me by my name, and later he returned to calling me Cat. I had already gotten used to my nickname, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Though I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't feeling a bit bitter. An hour ago, I was a "teacher," and now I was just Cat again.

Perhaps his awe diminished after he had used his newfound ability. He immediately tried to activate it! To be honest, I, too, was anxious to see what would come of it. However, Cyril seemed disappointed with the result.

"I think I can summon him now!" he said proudly, and a ghost of a Fox appeared near him a second later.

The guy clearly expected it to be made of flesh and blood; as did I. But reality was often disappointing. Grass and stones could be seen through the Fox's body, and from a certain angle, it became almost invisible.

"What should I do with it?" Cyril asked, sounding depressed.

"Hey, why the long face?" I asked, slightly raising my voice. "A moment ago you were genuinely happy that you had this ability. What happened?"

"Teacher, this is..." he began.

"Yes, it's a ghost," I confirmed. "What's wrong with that? It's still something new! What did you expect? A huge, swift-footed predator that will fight monsters instead of you? Remember: the path of Light is not for those who want everything at once, but for those who ultimately plan to get much more. You paid for your power with pain, now you have to discover how to use it properly. And I'm definitely not going to hold your hand."

Cyril seemed to be inspired by my little speech, although I saw a shadow of disappointment pass over his face for a moment. Damn enthusiasts! First they imagine impossible things, and then, when reality presents its face to them, they blame everyone and everything for the injustice they've suffered.

"Sorry, Cat," he said absentmindedly. Yeah, Cat again. Should I correct him? Or ignore it? "I understand. I expected too much too soon, and I became impatient. But the Fox, is, like, nice…"

He looked with uncertainty at the ghostly figure. Nice? He clearly doesn't know what words to choose.

"I think it's cute," Lena smiled.

My subconscious facepalmed. How could I forget that we were all human? With all our human quirks. Lena was talking about how cute the ghostly animal was, while we stood at the entrance of a cave full of zombies, Naga-like creatures, and Live Pieces of Rock. For a second, I imagined telling someone in our old world such a story; I could imagine their eyes widening, finger near their temple gesturing that I was off my rocker, and them looking at me cautiously... And then I stopped myself. There is no old world. We have to live here and now.

"What can it do?" I asked Cyril.

Actually, this question was not particularly necessary. I could see that the Fox was level one, with only 200 health, and a zero attack power. It was useless in combat. Though, on the other hand, it had an interesting ability — if I got the phrase Translation of Sight correctly, the Fox could be used as spy. Unfortunately, I couldn't see a more detailed description.

"I can make it accompany me," Cyril began, "I can also order to wait. That's all."

"Are you sure?" I asked cautiously. Was he not going to say anything about the special ability?

Cyril looked at me thoughtfully. Then understanding came to his face — he guessed that I knew more than he had anticipated. He is getting strange ideas, I should be careful.

"There's also Translation of Sight," he admitted. "But it's inactive. I tried to use it, but nothing happened."

I wondered about what was it that I had seen and what he had reported. The most logical conclusion was that the totem beast needed to be leveled. It was also likely that Cyril's level prevented him from using the Fox's abilities. For a moment, I even envied him a little bit. I wished I had such a beast. I'd find a use for it! And it'd be even better if the beast in question wasn't a Fox, but something stronger.

"Here's a new task for you," I said. "Develop your totem beast, improve yourself, and learn to interact with it."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Cyril asked. I noticed that he spoke without skepticism, but with curiosity.

"You'll find a way," I said evasively. How should I know? "Trial and error. You'll figure it out."

"Seems that's the only way," Cyril smiled sheepishly, staring at his ghostly Fox, which seemed to have gotten tired of waiting, and decided to lie down.

"I want one, too," Lena said with a hint of sadness in her voice and unconsciously rubbed her stomach. She looked like she was ready to repeat Cyril's training.

"Don't envy, and don't hurry," I said strictly. "First help your partner to understand everything and only then make your choice. Who knows, maybe Light has something more interesting waiting for you."

Lena focused right away and nodded.

Wow, I actually like this path of Light. I just have to be careful not to bite off more than I can chew.

"I'll carry him with me," Cyril decided, "and try to level him up."

"Great idea," I approved his decision.

"Cat, you'll let us train together, won't you?" Lena asked cautiously. She feared that after the incident with the Piece of Rock the day before was going to make me keep a better eye on them.

"Do you expect me to watch over you like a nanny?" I answered a question with a question. My initial plan was to send them on their own anyway. "And don't forget about Elenite."

"Thanks, Cat!" Lena said and slipped into the cave first. Cyril immediately followed her.

I waited a little before following their example. They had gone far ahead and were, judging by the sounds coming from the next corridor, already fighting something. Well, I think I'll go the other way.

Having gone deep into a hallway with a yellowish floor, I came across another Naga-like monster.

Neophyte of the Cult of Snake, level 20

Health Points: 2,200

Element: Abyss

Attack: 250

Defense: 120

Magical Defense: 1

Skills: Strong Arms; Sudden Throw

Weakness: fire

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Speed: 2 (cruising); 18 (dash)

The Neophyte was pretty weak compared to Adherents and the Cursed Ones, this one was even shorter than the others. Its skin was a dull bronze color, and its eyes were yellow. It was a boring looking monster, but perfect for leisurely increasing my stats. I even chuckled; they say a man gets used to everything, but to think calmly when a snake tries to tear you apart takes an incredible amount of guts.

I thought back to my recent dream and tried to figure out what it might mean. I really wasn't the kind of person who cared about interpreting dreams. I never believed in that superstitious nonsense and laughed at people who sincerely looked for hidden signs in their subconscious night adventures. I knew well that dreams were reflections of reality and that there was nothing supernatural about them.

But here, in this world... Something was wrong. Why would I suddenly dream about Vic Chigrash? I haven't thought about him once. And we weren't really close friends before either. Our job was the only thing that we had in common. And then he suddenly comes to me in a dream, a very life-like one at that. It was as if I, unwittingly, went down memory lane. Everything was exactly the same, except for the appearance of the stranger in the suit. I didn't need a psychic to tell me that the dream reflected my appearance in this world. The man in the suit and the hat reminded me of my mentor. Maybe it was him. After another moment of thought, I dropped the subject in its entirety. The face of the man in the dream was so blurred that I couldn't remember him, no matter how hard I tried.

Vic Chigrash jumped under a train. At least, we were told so. It was a closed casket funeral, so disfigured the body was. His death came as a surprise to all of us, members of the unprivileged railroad loaders club. At this thought, I chuckled, looking into the unblinking eyes of the Neophyte. Those were memories of my own life, but I felt like I was trying to remember a film.

Why did he decide to commit suicide? What pushed him to that desperate step? In the dream, he told me about his failed life, lack of relationships, his hopelessness, and the rut he had fallen into... Reality was not much different. We even had a similar conversation once. But that turned into our ritual; I would talk about my failures, and Chigrash about his. The other guys would join in, too, adding some more hopelessness into our lives. We'd then usually abruptly switch to dirty jokes to distract ourselves, and either return to work or continue talking if we were in the middle of a break.

I wondered who would've won if the events from the dream really had happened? Me or Vic? What if he had taken my place in this world? I suddenly remembered the night of my arrival. That goddamn evening and that store that became the epicenter of these nightmarish and crazy events. The boy buying cheap coffee, Ahmed the cashier — it was Ahmed, right? — girls from the volleyball team, a married couple, and the punks. I hadn't known any of them before that ill-fated meeting. I did sort of know the cheerful cashier, but all our communication could be boiled down to greetings, goodbyes and exchange of change. They were all dead, and I was alive. I was in a different world, but I was alive. Moreover, I could even come back from the dead. I remembered all those people only now for some reason. I didn't feel sorry for them then; I guess I was too desperate to live. And that's why I managed to escape.

Suddenly, I felt thunderstruck. In all the time that I've been here, not once did I have a guilty conscience. I almost immediately forgot about all of those people. Perhaps some switch in my mind was switched off so I don't go crazy with remorse. Or maybe my brain was just filtering events, trying to prevent an overload. After all, a lot had happened…

I survived and entered a different world. My perception of reality changed drastically when I looked with my "inner eye" for the first time. Dying and being born again for the first time left a mark, too. And now, once I had finally adapted to all the peculiarities of this new world, the ghosts of past decided to attack me. My own mind decided to present me with a dilemma: imagine that in order to survive and get into another world you needed to kill a friend, someone you know at least a little bit, who you see and talk to almost every day — could you do it now?

Anyone could've taken Chigrash's place in my dream. Ivan Morozov, with whom we once decided to do the evening runs and with whom we drank cheap beer in the park on Fridays, risking running into a police patrol. Kamil Shafutdinov, my school classmate. Anyone. Now I understood the meaning of my dream. I needed something to take my mind off it before I got lost in the reverie.

The Neophyte tried to tear me in half, so I had to burn it, not without joy I might add, as if it was to blame for my bad mood. Catching my breath, I observed the ground, trying to understand what was confusing me. But, instead of answers, I got a surprise. The corridor along which I was now moving was yellow for a reason: scattered around it were minerals that colored my surroundings yellow with their glow.

After a little work with my scythe, I dug out a piece and smiled victoriously.

Yellow Elenite

Used as a weak catalyst for alchemical reactions.

I was so thrilled that I had made another discovery that the word "weak" in the description didn't bother me at all.