* Path of Exile * 18+ Path of Exile. Metamorph I apologize in advance to players and developers for a small distortion of the storyline of the game. The scythe and stone met at once, the Law and Chaos, flame and ice... These strings, written by the poet of the Otherworld, were about them. For several hours the two men had been standing in a cloud of acrid smoke and a deafening roar. One is a man, a priest, a protector. There were no words in the human language to describe the second one. It was constantly changing shape and size. It sent a stream of waving ice balls at the man, then tried to wrap its sticky tentacles around him, then beat him with a huge maul that had come out of nowhere, then split into a dozen of the same shapeless creatures, in a futile attempt to surround and tear his opponent. The man stood rooted to the ground. He didn't take a step back, but he didn't take a step forward either. It sent a continuous stream of flame at the enemy, now and then amplified by a thundering Wave of Conviction. At every opportunity, without interrupting the fiery flow, he gathered energy and sent a lightning-sparking ray of Divine Ire at the enemy. The ground beneath them had long since melted into slag, but even there the icy winter blooms created by a strange creature from another world did not melt. In the midst of these beautiful but deadly flowers the Holy Flame Totem immediately grew. In the Consecrated Ground it created, man was invulnerable. Everything, even the blackest curses, was removed from him, his strength was restored, his morale rose again, and his determination to win was strengthened. But the monster did not show the slightest sign of weakness and prostration. His energy shield, though sometimes lost under powerful attacks, soon rose again. His wounds and burns disappeared as soon as he changed shape. And when even the Consecrated Ground was covered with a prickly shell of ice, it was as if he gained additional strength and rushed into battle with even greater ferocity. Only now the man did notice that his strange companion had disappeared. At the beginning of the fight, he would bravely creep closer to watch the action closely, and write something in his thick, battered notebook. He kept picking up strange instruments. He held them up to the burning or icy ground, then pointed the device with the eye directly into the flame, then collected some samples. But now he was gone, and the man did not even notice in the heat of battle the moment when the portal appeared and his strange employer left the battlefield. - Tane, you are son of a bitch! Gone like a rat! - the man thought. There was no time for more, as he was subjected to another massive ice attack again. --- The man was St. Patrick. However, both the first and second were not true. Nobody on the Wraeclast didn't really know his real name. Those who knew him better believed that he had deliberately erased his real name from his memory, along with his entire past life, the one before his exile. At least, he never mentioned it to anyone. The others didn't even bother with this question and called him just St. Patrick. Only once, when he was drunken a little, did he blurt out how he got here. He was exiled even not from Oriath, but from somewhere in the Otherworld itself. There he was a simple monk, served the church and did good as best he could. But one day he found out that the Abbot was an occultist, also very greedy for worldly goods and possessed by a thirst for power. In an attempt to stop him, he underestimated the enemy's strength. How did the Abbot manage to open the portal between the worlds and send Patrick to Wraeclast, what forces helped him in this - it doesn't matter now. This remains one of the problems of the old world. Patrick found himself in a new and very hostile world. The first time was not up to difficult questions, it was necessary to survive. Then the questions became meaningless. This world wasn't as bad as it seemed at first. There were good opportunities and good people living here. And not just people. On the Wraeclast only few people can be called Saint without a share of sarcasm. There were many different religions here. Some of them were cruel and required victims, sometimes very numerous and bloody. His faith was new to this world, and it seemed quite harmless against the background of others. But those who joined it liked it for its simplicity and focus on good, creation and love. Those who are created by nature to do good, can find good even in the souls of alien, monstrous creatures. Some of the skills of this world, the vast majority of which were aimed mainly at killing, he adapted to help people. For example, to heal the sick. Doing good as best he could, he soon became not the last person in this small, recently established state. St. Patrick was in good standing among the people. But even among the monsters, he was highly respected. Once he managed to give water to a drought-maddened rhoa from Arid lake. Many were surprised by his triumphant return to the town. He was escorted as if to death, but he returned and, moreover, according to ancient custom, rode into the town riding on the back of his powerful enemy. Now this rhoa regularly serves a small household of Patrick. How did he managed to confess the Forgotten Soldier, in the battle with which many hotheads laid down their heads, is still a mystery. But the fact, that Patrick regularly supplies him with food and sometimes talks with him for a long time about life and fate, is undeniable. In return, the Forgotten Soldier had accompanied Patrick on many dangerous campaigns. And there were a lot of them. Is spite of all his pacifism, Patrick soon realized that on Wraeclast the words "good must be with fists" were not an empty sound at all, but filled with the most concrete meaning - the vector-magistratum of all life here. Therefore, he quickly mastered several useful skills in combat and soon brought them to perfection. Fortunately, there were enough enemies. So despite his advanced age, Patrick was in excellent shape and good spirits. And these people on Wraeclast often become leaders. So Patrick had a small but close-knit parish. Together they defeated the venomous Ryslatha, which produced a great abundance of all kinds of parasites, the terrible fire Basilisk, the blood-curdling Sallazzang, and the elusive, like lightning, snake Seleslatha. They had cleared the ruins of the city of Vaal of the strange, venomous mechanical creatures that Patrick considered the most vile of the crawling creatures he hated. The lost civilization of Vaal left behind many of these alien creatures: imperfect, highly specialized mechanisms, endowed with an incomplete soul. It is not surprising that Vaal disappeared. But it is better that the mystery of their disappearance remain the eparchy of Zana and Alva. And now it was time for him and his companions to collect the stones - Ergholm finally allowed a small parish to be established in an abandoned tower at the Crossroads. People took it with enthusiasm. After a long life of fear, after campaigns and battles, they wanted rest, peace and creation. People worked with heart and enthusiasm. Sometimes it seemed to Patrick that his parish was growing in number. People were drawn to them, wanting to be involved in a big, good cause. The city also provided tangible help and support. At first, Ergholm sent masters for the construction, and then began to take a direct part in the construction and in the protection, himself. With this support, the work progressed so quickly that Patrick began to believe that the small parish he had planned would become a full-fledged Church, and possibly a monastery, in his lifetime. The tower was rebuilt. New wine was already maturing in the cellars. The fields rippled. A bakery, blacksmith shop, and Sunday school were being completed. The traffic widened. The masters came. Patrick himself worked tirelessly, occasionally interrupting work to participate in the Ergholm's military campaigns against the Blight. But all this established order was broken. One evening, a strange man dressed in a ridiculous diving suit knocked on the gate. He reminded Patrick of a diver from the old world. Patrick let him into the tower and offered him supper. The man refused to take off his suit. Probably he had a reason for that. This was getting interesting. Patrick prepared to listen to the visitor and understand who he was and why he'd come here. - I am Tane, a freedman, and I plan to stay that way, - the guest introduced himself and began his confession, - I killed my master, the alchemist Lucan Octavius. Killed him and took his name. I do not regret what happened to him, only the part I played. I regret that it was by my hand. My master was a sick man with dark proclivities. A sickness of the mind that no alchemy could hope to cure. And he passed that sickness onto me. I was never violent until that day. Until that day, I could not fathom how one man could take the life of another. But Lucan drew out of me an anger I did not know I was capable of experiencing. It overcame me. Forced me out of my own body. And by the time I was in control again, my master was dead. That anger, that darkness is still in me, Exile. And that is why I'm here. The task I want to give you is dangerous. To face the cruelty that dwells in the living, distilled and manifested, is not a task I wish upon anyone. Yet it is what I have asked of you. So you may be asking yourself, for what purpose do I seek to isolate this darkness? I once thought it was a symptom of the corruption that pervades Wraeclast, but now I believe it to be something more primeval and universal. An element of our very beings hitherto unknown. To better understand it is to better understand life as a whole. To conjure a creature of darkness we use the flesh of the dead. We destroy that flesh, and draw out the ill-will that inhabits it, giving it form. My hope is that, one day, we may do the reverse - destroy the darkness while leaving the flesh unharmed. To that end, I've acquired a rare ichor - there's no other like it in this world. The very essence of a human, for all intents and purposes, its soul. This individual was cruel beyond measure, or so I've heard, though not incapable of kindness. This ichor is robust enough that it might be injected into an entity of equally cruel temperament, and may be given new life. Now, imagine if we could then destroy the darkness. Could this cruel soul be purified? Could it be brought back, not only from the dead, but from the precipice of damnation? That is my true goal. Patrick had heard many confessions in his life. This one wasn't much different from the others, but there was something like... darkness. The guest's mind was in turmoil. His purpose was good. He was looking for a way to save his soul, but chose a doubtful and dangerous method. - My son, experiments with the soul are dangerous. There is another way - regret, work, love, and goodness. - I understand, holy father. But I've come such a long and dangerous way that it's too late to stop. I've asked many warriors for help, but none of them have been able to defeat this thing, or even hold it off long enough for me to get the samples I need. Patrick was alarmed. It is not enough that Tane risks making experiments on the soul, so he also sends at risk people who have agreed to help him. - I hope none of them were killed? - No. But the creature is extremely dangerous. She was very clever with all those who tried to help me. That's why I came to you. They say you're strong. You have an excellent survival rate in combat, and most importantly, a wealth of combat experience. I hope you won't refuse me? Patrick thought about it. Is he refuse this man, he will continue his dark experiments, putting himself and others at risk. Moreover, he might incur the wrath of the Higher Powers, and they would not confine themselves to Tane Octavius alone. They don't waste on small, get the whole Reclast. Therefore, I need to help him, and at the same time understand the situation better. Maybe there's another way to bring this lost soul to reason. - All right, let's go. Attack it again romorrow in the morning with clear minds. You can spend the night here, there are guest rooms. Tane refused. Patrick escorted the guest to the gate. After leaving the gate, Tane promised to return in the morning, and then opened a strange green portal and went through it. In the morning Tane was waiting for Patrick at the gate. Patrick came out in full battle gear, carrying a staff. - Are you ready? Tane asked. - Yes. - Then let's go! Tane opened the portal. Soon they were both in a deserted area. - Wait for me here. I'll be back soon. Tane opened the portal again and disappeared. Patrick decided to take a look around. With an experienced eye, he noted all possible hiding places,, as well as places to avoid during the battle. After a reconnaissance, he once again checked his battle gear. Before the fight, this is not superfluous. Soon there was a crash. A portal appeared, and Tane came out of it, wheeling a huge green barrel in front of him. The portal closed. Tane set the barrel on the ground. Then he spread out some instruments all over the clearing. - The instruments are ready. I have all the ingredients. Now let's create a dark creature. Tane worked on the barrel for a few minutes, then quickly moved away. The barrel shook and burst. A strange, shapeless creature emerged from it. Patrick stared at his opponent for a long time, trying to guess his weaknesses. But the creature was so alien that it could not be done. It looked dangerous from all sides. It didn't look afraid. It might have been a little disoriented by being in an unfamiliar place, but even then they were in equal conditions. The creature did not attack. It was studying Patrick as closely as he was studying him. Taking advantage of the pause, Tane approached Patrick. - Your job is either to kill him, or tie him up, or just grab him and hold him. Whatever you want to do with it. But I need these samples! Patrick silently nodded. Tane moved away and stood at a distance. "Grab and hold on. Easy to say! How do you capture something that constantly changes shape? The enemy was clearly not simple and really dangerous. All its possibilities could only be guessed at. But in battle, there is only what happens in battle. Nothing new has yet been invented in this or any other world. Patrick, without thinking, struck the first blow. --- Odo was a Metamorph. And he had a good day today. The children, of whom it was impossible to tell the exact number at any given time - six or eight - were playing merrily in a pool of water, in a pile of sawdust, in a pile of clay, or in a puddle of tar. That was good. And the cheerful look of his lifemate watching them, promising an early addition to the family, was even more pleasing. It's time to expand home. Fortunately, only the will and imagination were required to build in this changeable world. Odo's will was strong, and his imagination was good. He had a couple of interesting new ideas, and he couldn't wait to start implementing them. If all went well, as Odo had no doubt it would, their new home would be even more changeable, even more interesting. - Hey, be careful! Or I'll have to dig you out of the concrete again for half a day! Last time I was very tired of doing this! - Odo shouted to the children. - Don't be afraid! We'll have time to jump out! - one of children answered. - Yes, you will. You just need to train your reaction, and learn to fly better! There, look how the other kids are doing! By the way, there's a lot of you today. - Ah, the neighbors came to see us. Their home is boring. - Oh! Clearly. Ok, keep playing. Just look, I warned you! Odo smiled and started to get busy. It seemed that nothing could spoil his positive mood. Even a changeable weather, like everything else in this world. Moreover, the sudden snowstorm had just ended, and the sun was shining warmly. Life prospered around them. The civilization of Metamorphs lived in harmony with their changing world, and it has changed for the better. There was no sign of grief. Odo was just beginning to build up the image of his future home in his mind when a vortex appeared directly below him and began to pull him in. Odo, taken aback, struggled to escape, but the unknown force was irresistible. Soon the vortex sucked Odo completely and collapsed. Odo lost contact with the outside world for a moment. When he came to himself, he suddenly realized that he was in a closed space, the size of which barely contained him. It was close, stuffy and dark. And it is not clear what happened, where he is and why he is here. But instead of answers to these questions, new and much more important ones soon emerged. Suddenly the restraining walls burst, and Odo, dazed and blinded by the bright light, fell out into a new world. In surprise, it spread out in a puddle, covering with his substance the remains of the barrel from which it had just hatched. As soon as his eyes came to the surface and his body began to take a more decent shape, a man pounced on him and quickly drove two sharp awls into his sides. It didn't hurt very much, but it wasn't pleasant to be stuck with an awl or two. While the man, surprised that his attack had not brought the expected success, was momentarily stunned, Odo looked around. This world was familiar to him. He had been there before, on a research mission. An eerie place. Everything is stable, not changeable. As if frozen in time. And only the creatures that inhabited it were in the main very changeable in their unpredictable guile and irrepressible aggression. Right now, a typical representative was standing right in front of him. He looked like a young guy in a leather hood and black leather jacket. A typical bandit, of which Odo had seen many in this world. And two new awls in hand... Odo quickly changed his form. The awls protruding from their sides fell to the grass. The guy came to his senses and, apparently, was really angry. Suddenly he threw something at his feet and was quickly enveloped in a cloud of black smoke. Invisible in the smoke, he moved swiftly toward Odo and again inflicted several painful wounds. Not wanting to tolerate this, Odo threw the boy back with force. But he didn't let up. It took on a strange, ghostly shape and began to move around Odo like a young Metamorph. There was a bright flash. The guy disappeared, and suddenly he was behind Odo. Again the two awls sank into his sides. Odo spun around and threw the boy away from him again. The bandit leaped up again and charged to attack. "What's wrong with you?" - Odo thought. Stretching out his fpseudopod, he deftly knocked the attacker off his feet. But this made him even more angry. As the bandit charged again, Odo sprouted many sharp spikes on his side. Painfully bumping into them, the guy retreated. But after a couple of sips from the flask on his belt, he attacked Odo with renewed force. Not wanting to hurt the strange guy, Odo suddenly spilled a puddle of sticky slime at his feet. The guy who didn't expect such a turn, got into trouble. Odo, dodging the owls, wrapped his tentacles around him. The boy fluttered and cursed so much that Odo had to shut him up. Suddenly another man came out from behind the nearest rocks. Much stranger than the one that lay bound next to him. He was dressed in a rusty diving suit, hung with various vials and strange devices. Despite his grotesque appearance, Odo sensed a greater danger from him than from the fallen bandit. But the man made no attempt to attack. He took a sample of the liquid into the vial and plugged it. Then he pressed a few buttons on a device on his belt. There was a pop behind Odo. Odo shifted one eye back, keeping the other fixed on the strange man. A green portal opened behind them. - Go away! - the man in the suit grated loudly. Odo quickly slid into the portal. When Odo found himself in the same place from which the vortex had dragged him, he stood for a long time, not even changing shape in unpleasant surprise. "What the fuck was that just now?" However, there was no clear answer, and there could not be. Odo didn't have any ideas. So he decided to give it up and continue what he had started. After some time devoted to creative work, Odo already perceived what had happened to him as a ridiculous incident. His good mood returned. All was going well. But then the vortex appeared again. Odo tried again unsuccessfully to break free, but was sucked inside as before. This time the world seemed to be the same, but the place was different. A thin girl in a Fox's skin was before him, holding a harp-like bow in her hands. Odo's body had not yet changed to the shape of a barrel when a cloud of sharp arrows screeched into it. The girl shot one arrow to the side and disappeared, immediately appearing at the place where the arrow fell. Then she fired a whole burst at Odo again. And so again and again... Odo, trying to protect his eyes, launched a counterattack. Throwing a bundle of tentacles at the Archer, he tried to grab her and give her a good thrashing, but missed. The girl deftly dodged and teleported behind him. Odo had barely grown a carapace on his back when arrows rattled against it. Odo soon managed to finish the fight. He threw a wide web over it. Wrapping it in a tight cocoon, Odo picked it up and laid it on the dense thorn bushes. The girl fluttered and swayed, trying to get out of the cocoon. Then the man in the suit reappeared. Taking a sample of a few strands of web from the cocoon, he opened the portal again. Odo hastened to use it. "It seems that this is not an accident," - Odo reasoned when he returned home. Now he was more interested in how to counteract it than in the reason for what was happening. But there were no ideas. Odo was going to go through the neighborhood to find out if this was the way it was with everyone, or if he was the only one who was so unlucky. But as soon as he was out of the door, the vortex appeared again... How many have there been in the last few days? The lightning witch that Odo had wrapped in foil so that only her eyes were visible. A big savage marauder with a big club, whom Odo had hit hard on the head and stunned with a huge rubber maul. A duelist in shining armor with a sword and a shield - Odo poured acid slime over him so that all the armor rusted, and then glued him to the wood. A necromancer with a bunch of zombies - he had to mess with him. He's probably still standing there, wrapped in a bubble of energy shield, along with the entire crowd of his minions. Another bandit. And a witch... There's no end in sight. At least they leave him alone at night. But in the morning, the damned vortex can suck him right out of the alcove in which it blissfully spread out after a whole day of ridiculous fights. To the questions "What the fuck?" and "What should I do?" there are no answers yet. But Odo has gained a lot of combat experience and trained his imagination on the subject of "How to deal with unpredictable opponents". Even in that unchanging world, something was changing. The enemy used increasingly sophisticated and varied tactics. But they didn't realize that true diversity is Odo's nature. What do they know about him? The only thing that didn't change was the appearance of a man in a diving suit. He wasn't even hiding now, making his observations and collecting samples right during the fight. It was obvious that he was playing a key role in what was happening. It's just not clear which one. So far, Odo tried not to risk and made no attempt to attack him. After all, he is essentially harmless, and also opens a portal home. What if, after the attack, he refuses to open the portal, and Odo remains forever in that terrible world? He didn't even want to think about it... at first. But now that it was happening again and again and starting to get annoying, Odo decided to catch the man next time, take him out of the suit into the sun and shake him well. Maybe then something will become clear. But his plans didn't come true. Odo was not disturbed that morning. He had a good night's sleep. It's almost noon. Odo was just thinking that it was all over when the damned vortex appeared again. He didn't resist any more, knowing it was useless. But this time it was different. A warrior, obviously not young, stood before him, leaning on a staff. Odo felt no fear or excitement in his eyes. Only felt the sharp, intent look of an experienced fighter. Both stood ready for battle and studied each other. Firstly Odo knew that this was a completely different class of warrior. And that made him afraid. A man in a diving suit came out and spoke briefly to the warrior, pointing at the instruments on the ground and then at Odo. Then he moved away and stood a little way off. Odo and the man before him stared at each other for another minute. Both knew that the fight was inevitable. And they both knew it wasn't going to be easy. The man started first. He made a smooth movement with his staff, and the lamp of the Holy fire totem appeared before the Metamorph. Odo barely had time to raise his energy shield. But even through it, it was hot. Meanwhile, the man seemed to be drawing energy from the environment, accumulating it for the next crushing blow. Odo didn't wait. He threw himself at the enemy, trying to cover him with his sticky substance. But the man was ready. Odo was met by a fiery Wave of conviction, into which he crashed as if into a wall. The man added more fire, continuing to gather energy for the Divine ire. For a moment before a shot Odo rose up the bubble of energy shield, and divided himself into a number of smaller metamorphs. A powerful beam passed over them, and the slightly damp earth was instantly dried under the beam. Judging that a man specializes in the element of fire, Odo decided to contrast it with cold. It was necessary to cool down the opponent's ardor a little. For a test, Odo launched a series of Frostbolts at the man and, in order to show the seriousness of his intentions, spread a chilling Winter bloom under the enemy. Frostbolts only burst on the man's armor, and he simply moved a little to the side away from the dangerous white flowers... --- The scythe and stone met at once, the Law and Chaos, flame and ice... These strings, written by the poet of the Otherworld, were known even in Odo's world. In some ways, even thanks to him. By studying other worlds and cultures, Odo brought to his world the best he found there. He was amazed that people spent so much time and effort on art. Sculpture and painting did not touch him. They were certainly beautiful, but Odo saw no point in capturing what was almost invariable. In the world of Odo there was neither the one nor the other. Only music was something common to both worlds. Both were beautiful. And literature, and particularly poetry, remained a mystery to Odo for a long time. On the one hand - strict limits and invariability of forms, and on the other - the widest variability of images that arise when it is perceived. Even reading the same work several times, the mind built up different images and evoked different emotions. And now the verses that popped up in his memory were just about them. Also, Odo had an unfathomable twenty-eighth sense that the warrior standing before him and these verses were the product of the same world, and clearly not of this one. The fight was long and hard. And it was still unclear on whose side the victory was. Odo either avoided a human attack, or recovered quickly by nature. Man, too. Most of Odo's attacks didn't cause him much harm. And the wounds that he still sometimes received, soon immediately healed. It was as if a Higher Power had preserved the man. The methodicalness of his attacks, which had bothered Odo at first, now seemed to him the greatest danger, the force against which nothing in this frozen world could stand. But Odo was from another world, so he still held on. And all his imagination seemed to be shattered on the monolith of firm will and unshakeable determination of the enemy. It was getting dark. The prospect of a night battle did not please either of them. The Metamorph didn't care if it was day or night - it could see as well in the dark as in the light. For a human, the darkness wasn't a problem either - there was so much fire around that the battlefield was brighter at night than during the day. It just didn't make sense. So they can stand and beat each other forever. Why? For what ideals? The man in the suit disappeared, leaving all his instruments behind. Maybe Odo was the first to think about how to get out of the fight. "What happens if I win?" - Odo thought, - " I can't go home. And for the people of this world, I will be the aggressor, the invader... A monster that killed their hero and protector. They will always hate me and all my kind. And if I die? Nobody at home will never know what happened. And here... they will assume that the evil enemy is defeated. And this guy gains the eternal glory! Odo didn't even know what had happened. Suddenly the man stopped attacking and stopped. A second later, he laid the staff on the ground. What Odo did not dare, the man did for him. The Metamorph, having completed the last attack, which was as unsuccessful as the others, also paused, ready and as still as possible. The hot stones were cooling and the ice was melting between them. Odo, not wanting to show his indecision, was the first to ask in the language that in THAT world was called "English": - What's your name? The man froze in surprise for a moment. Then he answered in the same language: - Peolpe call me Saint Patrick. Have you ever heard it? - No. I'm not from this world. - I thought so. Just call me Patrick. Whose will you be? - I'm Odo. In the language of my world, my name is unpronounceable to you. - Hi, Odo! Patrick held out his hand to the metamorph. Odo, familiar with the customs of THAT world, raised a hand and held it out in response. They were silent for a while. Then Patrick asked: - You must have been in different worlds. Including mine, since you know the language. What are you doing here? - Good question! I'd like to know it myself. Patrick took off his helmet and scratched his head in surprise. - Is that so? Tell me! Odo told them about his life, about the vortex, and about his battles with the warriors of this world. Patrick listened without interrupting. When Odo had finished, he stood scratching his head for a long time. Then he picked up the bag, put the helmet in it, picked up the staff, and said: - Let's go! Odo didn't ask where or why. Just skidded along. It wasn't far to the platform. Soon they were both in town. It was dark now, but the main streets were lit by streetlights. The children, who never seemed to sleep, immediately surrounded St. Patrick and his creepy companion. People are used to seeing St. Patrick in the company of very strange creatures, but this is the first time they have seen something so strange. The noise brought Ergholm. - Greetings, Holy father. Who's with you? - he asked, eyeing the metamorph warily. - Hello, Erg! This is Odo, from the Otherworld. We have a deal to one of your people. Tane Octavius, you know him? - How can I not to know? Strange man. - That's true. We're here for his soul. Can you show me the way? - Over there, down the street to the end and to the right. There's a house with a green door. - Thank You, Erg! I owe you magarych! They said goodbye to Ergholm and went in that direction, followed by the amazed children. Tane Octavius did not answer to the knock on the door. Then Odo slipped through the crack under the door and opened it from the inside. There was no one in the house. Odo and Patrick had difficulty finding the cleverly disguised stairway to the cellar, where Tane stood by the open portal and frantically collecting his belongings. Patrick waved his staff. Holy Flame Totem stood between Tane and the portal and hummed. Tane froze in horror. - Well. Go on, tell me! Just try to tell the truth. Tane was silent, guiltily bowed his head. Suddenly, he grabbed the skillstone from the chest and rushed to the portal. Ice immediately formed around it. It was cold as hell. But, no matter how fast he moved, Odo was faster. With a smooth movement, he skidded to the portal and stood, covering it with his massive bulk. Tane crashed into Odo and froze, not knowing what to do next. Patrick asked: - Odo, do you have a rope? Odo pulled out a sticky vine. Patrick tied Tane's hands and feet, and then, seeing a carcass hook on the ceiling, with Odo's help, hung Tane upside down. - Well, hang on, think about it! Or maybe we should talk? Tane was silent for a while. Then, when the blood began to rush to his head, he agreed. He was removed from the hook and securely tied to a chair found there. Patrick started the interrogation. - So tell me, why were you planning to escape? - When the fight dragged on, I guessed how it would end. I've heard about your reputation and I knew you'd find me, - Tane's voice was muffled under her helm. Greed has brought. Samples, notes... They are my whole life! - I understand. By the way, where are you going? Stop, don't speak. We'll check that out for ourselves. Patrick motioned for the Metamorph to follow him through the open portal. They disappeared and returned a minute later. There was a sharp smell of sulfur and ash in the cellar. - How nice, Lava prison! Nice place! Maybe we..? Patrick winked at Odo and nodded his head, first toward Tane and then toward the portal. - No! Please! - muffled moaned Too. - Well, my dear man, I'll tell you what. It was a bad idea. I warned you that your experiments were dangerous. Not only are you putting people's lives at risk, you're also causing trouble for beings from another world. Is that why Odo didn't please You? He has, by the way, a family at home and eight children. Eight! And you drag him out here to do experiments on him? Take his place, how would you like that? I think not. So stop it! I want you to sincerely repent right now and promise that this won't happen again. - But I didn't know it worked like this! I thought I was creating the dark creature myself... - You don't seem to understand. Do you want to hang on? People say it's better to think upside down. - No! I understand! - If so, then repent of your deeds. You can think about it, but most importantly - sincerely and from the heart. But you should apologize to Odo out loud. - But... I don't even know his language! - That's it! You haven't even bothered to understand where he come from, what his language is. Nothing! You speak, I'll translate. - ... how do you know his language? - Not me. He knows mine. He's a scientist, too, a researcher like you. He've been to different worlds. But I think this one is the worst of all worlds for him. Mostly thanks to your efforts! But you could easily find a common language! It was only necessary to take a step towards it. - Odo, I'm sorry! I'm very sorry for you, - Tane said, his voice booming and trembling. It won't happen again. I swear! Patrick translated. Odo, trying to keep his form as human as possible, nodded back. Patrick put away the skillstones and untied Tane. - Consider your apology accepted. Now I want you to bring Odo home. Tane nodded. Then he pressed a few buttons on the device at the belt of his suit. A second portal opened in the room with a loud pop. - Well, Odo, it's time for you to go home! I'm glad we met. If you're in our world, come visit! - You'd better go to us. If your the body and mind can stand being in our world. - Don't worry about that! I'll look in on occasion! Have a nice trip! - And good luck to you. Thank you for everything! Odo left. The portal slammed shut. Patrick turned back to Tane: - One last thing. Guy, find a job! You have so much knowledge! You can create gates between worlds. So finish them properly! I'll have Ergholm to send magicians and technicians, they will help. And let the guards put out, suddenly what kind of creature you bring! Free tip: start a business! Trade between worlds is very profitable. And if you are afraid - take money for passage through the gate. Just don't be too greedy! There will be a lot of applicants. And remember: if I find out you're back at it, I'll make sure you don't have a peace in any of the worlds. Understand? - Yes. - Good bye! Patrick gone. Tane sat in silence for a long time, taking in the events of the day. Then, for the first time in years, he took off his helm, got out of the suit, and went out into the night. İOuttY, 2020