by Dmitry Bilik
As for the other option, I wanted to go for Air but after some deliberation, I followed my Intuition and selected the Mixed type.
Next.
Telekinesis (Mysticism). The ability to remotely control inanimate objects. The higher the skill level, the heavier the object you can control.
Cost of use: 60 pt. mana
Cheap and cheerful. I was a bit pissed that out of Morbian’ entire arsenal of awesome spells like Flight, Fire Jet and Solar Flare, I’d only gotten something relatively weak. But that was my own fault. Had my level been higher, I might have received something more substantial, that’s for sure. On the other hand, if I leveled Telekinesis properly, I might turn it into a very dangerous spell indeed.
I stopped right at the center of the snowed-in road, looking for an object to try my freshly-acquired magic on. All I could find was a lump of ice underfoot. I kicked at it for a while to loosen it up, then stepped aside. How were you supposed to do it?
In the end, I didn’t have to wave my hands in the air as other spells required. I just thrust my arm out in its direction, sensing a strange tension form in my fingers, then tried to will it to approach.
If anything, it worked way too well. The lump shot up in my direction. I even managed to catch it at the last moment... with my own face.
Your Mysticism skill has increased to level 3.
I wiped the snow off my face and shook my head. I might need to train with pillows first. It was a good job I hadn’t chosen a stone to practice on: an urgent nose surgery was the last thing I needed right now.
I pulled out my phone. Either my provider was playing up, or this place was indeed out of range. Only when I’d finally walked over to the first street of dilapidated log houses did I get a faint signal. I dialed Julia.
“Hi,” she replied, apparently happy to hear me. “Have you sorted out your work problems?”
“More or less. One of them, anyway. Are you very busy tonight?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Think you could come to see me? I might get some wine and strawberries...”
“Are you crazy?” she whispered. “What strawberries are you talking about? It’s winter, for crissakes! I’m on my way. Are you home already?”
“Getting there.”
I’d told her the truth: I really wanted to surprise her. I’d planned to use the Gates to teleport somewhere tropical to buy some exotic fruit and whatnot. Still, my best-laid plans were disrupted by humanity’s worst enemy: my own laziness. Also, she hadn’t sounded very keen on it, had she? In which case she’d have to make do with Bumpkin’s cooking, even though it was a rather questionable punishment.
Finally, I walked over to the city proper and saw the first signs of life: an occasional car, a slamming door, the screeching of a shovel against the snow. This wasn’t the best of neighborhoods but winter had done a good job gentrifying it with its delicate white veil.
I stopped at a small grocery shop, most likely kept by one of the locals, but reconsidered. I’d be better off popping into one of the minimarkets on my way. The choice was probably better there.
After another twenty minutes’ worth of hiking through lane after lane of more log houses complete with barking dogs behind zinc fences, I finally got to the train station. From there, my own street was only a stone’s throw away. This was where civilization started in earnest, with tall buildings, busy traffic and half-decent supermarkets. I popped into the first one that caught my eye and bought a bottle of wine for 2,000 rubles[14]. Having spent my formative years drinking some carton-packaged gut rot, I was a newcomer to the fine art of wine appreciation. But now that I had a bit of money in my pocket, I really should start educating myself.
Bumpkin was busy making a chicken pie which was already sizzling in the oven, browning nicely. The smell made my stomach seize. Ignoring my pleading stare, Bumpkin grumbled that it needed another five minutes. Never mind. I put the wine in the fridge and continued hypnotizing the oven Hachiko-style.
By the time Julia arrived, most of the pie had already ended its journey in my belly. Why not? The Korl metabolism required a lot of nourishment! I just hoped it could handle copious amounts of Bumpkin’s cooking, otherwise things might go awry pretty quickly.
“When do you find the time for all the cooking?” she asked the moment she’d walked through the door. “I hate spending time in the kitchen.”
“Why?”
“Because it takes you a good two hours to toil over it, and they gulp it all down in less than ten minutes! And you’re the one to do all the washing up. What’s this, a chicken pie? You’re full of surprises, you!”
I gave her a big hug. She laughed, rosy-cheeked from the frost as always, and clung back to me.
“Are we gonna stand like this forever?” she asked.
“We’re constantly on the run as it is,” I replied. “We never really bother about truly important things. And sometimes all you need is a pause and a hug. That’s what really matters. Don’t you think?”
“Probably. Everything all right?”
“It is now. I had a bit of a hiccup at work but I’ve sorted it out. For a while, anyway.”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
“No point, is there? Just some boring specialized stuff.”
“Yeah sure. Everyone’s entitled to their own secrets. You can keep yours.”
“Thanks for your understanding.”
“Wish I could say the same. Don’t you want to offer some of your chicken pie to me? I’m pretty sure it’s worth a try. It’s probably finger-licking good, even.”
“I bet it is!”
Although far too good-mannered to lick her fingers in company, Julia made quick work of three large slices of the pie, then pressed her back to the wall with the expression of a prisoner facing the firing squad.
“Gosh, it’s just too good.”
“Jesus,” I slapped my forehead. “I forgot the main thing! Wait a sec.”
I took the wine out of the fridge, located the bottle opener and reached for two of my grandma’s precious crystal champagne glasses from the overhead cupboard.
“You shouldn’t really chill red wine,” she said, holding the glass like a connoisseur.
“Sorry!” I made a helpless gesture. “These aren’t wine glasses, either. We’ll have to make do with what we have.”
I watched curiously as she brought the glass to her nose, then did the same. It smelled of wine. The bouquet was quite, er, winy. I tasted it.
It took all of my willpower not to spit it out.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“Honestly? It must have known better days.”
“Okay. Give it here,” I retrieved the glass from her.
Apparently, not all yogurts are created equal. Ditto as to the price: you can’t expect it to always be the indication of quality.
That got me thinking. I opened the lower drawer where I kept the bottle of vinegar which my Mom, for reasons known only to her, had given me about a year ago. Not that I’d ever used it — but just now I’d had an idea.
I stood with my back to Julia, shielding the bottle from her, then focused and cast Transformation of Liquids.
“What’s this?” she asked, staring at the bottle which was now filled with an acid-green alcohol.
“It’s Grande Chartreuse,” I said with a straight face. “It’s a liqueur — or rather, an elixir, as the French call it. It’s made with over a hundred herbs.”
“What, in a vinegar bottle?”
“It was smuggled in.”
Your Lying skill has increased to level 10.
I reached into the freezer for some ice cubes which had been banging around it for the last five years and did a quick bartender act, then offered her the result.
She winced. “Too strong for my liking. But it has a good finish.”
“It’s fifty-five percent.”
“You’re full of surprises, you.”
“I don’t mean it,” I said, ge
tting the hint, and kissed her. She seemed to be expecting it.
We spent the rest of the evening like newlyweds locked in their apartment. We ate, drank, laughed and made love. Poor Bumpkin just didn’t know where to look, his expression similar to that of a cat refusing to bear witness to our debauchery. A few times he tried to hide under the bathtub and finally ended up secreting himself in the top closet.
In the meantime, we lounged in bed, feeling quite spent, and watched the TV. Or rather, I zapped through the channels while she occasionally asked me to linger.
“That’s only a Russian soap, for crissakes!” I tried to reason with her yet one more time. “They churn them out faster than Chinese cars.”
“I know, I know. It’s just the acting is so bad it’s actually funny. Look at this woman! What do you think she’s experiencing?”
“The way she looks, I’d say she must be desperate for a toilet break.”
“Nothing of the kind, stupid! She’s having a serious trauma.”
We laughed. I switched to the local news.
“Keep going,” Julia said. “It’s nothing we don’t already know.”
“Just a sec.”
“...according to eyewitnesses, the man was hit by a car which sped through Heroes Avenue opposite the Children’s Public Library and disappeared from the scene. The victim, who didn’t suffer any serious injuries, refused hospitalization...”
Okay. So much for the guards minding their own business. Apparently, regular memory-wiping spells hadn’t done the trick, forcing the guards to come up with a cover story. Well, well, well...
“Sergei!”
“Okay, okay, keep your hair on.”
I switched to the next channel, only to land on another newsfeed, federal this time. Judging by the picture, a new branch of hell on earth had just opened somewhere. I was looking at what appeared to be helicopter footage of rivers of lava consuming everything in their path.
“This latest awakening of Mount Vesuvius has coincided with a magnitude seven earthquake in the west of Italy which must have triggered the eruption. The situation has been exasperated by a tidal wave which is heading for Naples, prompting the Italian government to evacuate the entire coastline and neighboring islands...”
Julia gasped. “How terrible! It never rains it pours, does it? Just think of it: an earthquake, a volcano eruption and now a tidal wave!”
“Exactly. Earth, fire and water.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, it’s as if three of the four elements have just been unleashed by someone very powerful.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I am now. I’m a bit susceptible to these kinds of things, that’s all. Let’s get some sleep.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep now. Not after I’ve seen this.”
“Come here.”
I lay in the dark next to her warm frame, wondering which direction the three Horsemen’s destructive fury might take.
And as I thus pondered, the sickly foreboding of an upcoming disaster began rising in my chest.
End of Book Two
If you like our books and want to keep reading, download our FREE Publisher's Catalog, a must-read for any LitRPG fan which lists some of the finest works in the genre:
Tales of Wonder and Adventure: The Best of LitRPG, Fantasy and Sci-Fi (Publisher's Catalog)
New Release!
The Way of the Shaman. Step 2: The First Day: Volume Two (The Way of the Shaman Comic Book)
by Vasily Mahanenko
A Check for a Billion (Galactogon Book #3) LitRPG series
by Vasily Mahanenko
The Final Trial (Level Up Book #3) LitRPG Series
by Dan Sugralinov
Level Up: The Knockout (Book #1) LitRPG Series
by Dan Sugralinov
Apostle of the Sleeping Gods (Disgardium Book #2) LitRPG Series
by Dan Sugralinov
Finding a Body (The Dark Herbalist Book #4) LitRPG series
by Michael Atamanov
Edge of the Abyss (Respawn Trials Book #1) LitRPG Series
by Andrei Livadny
Captive of the Shadows (The Fairy Code Book #1)
by Kaitlyn Weiss
The Time Master (Interworld Network Book I): LitRPG Series
by Dmitry Bilik
Dungeons of the Crooked Mountains (Underdog Book # 1) LitRPG Series
by Alexey Osadchuk
A Second Chance (Invasion Book #1) LitRPG series
by Vasily Mahanenko
Blood of Fate (World 99 Book #1) LitRPG Wuxia Series
by Dan Sugralinov
A Jump into the Unknown (Reality Benders Book #5) LitRPG series
by Michael Atamanov
Deadman's Retinue (An NPC's Path Book #3) LitRPG Series
by Pavel Kornev
New LitRPG Series!!!
Adam Online Book #1, 2 LitRPG Series
by Max Lagno
New Pre-orders!
The Wastes (Underdog Book # 2) LitRPG Series
by Alexey Osadchuk
Level Up: Update (The Knockout Book #2) LitRPG Series
by Dan Sugralinov
In order to have new books of the series translated faster, we need your help and support! Please consider leaving a review or spread the word by recommending Avatar of Light to your friends and posting the link on social media. The more people buy the book, the sooner we'll be able to make new translations available.
Thank you!
Want to be the first to know about our latest LitRPG, sci fi and fantasy titles from your favorite authors?
Subscribe to our New Releases newsletter!
Be the first to know about new LitRPG releases!
Visit our
Facebook LitRPG page
to meet new and established LitRPG authors!
Tell us more about yourself and your favorite books, view new book covers and make friends with other LitRPG fans!
More LitRPG news and discussions at fellow LitRPG group
LitRPG Society!
Follow the latest LitRPG news on Twitter!
Till next time!
About the Author
Dmitry Bilik was born in 1986 in a small Russian town. A passionate reader since childhood, he loved nothing better than to create worlds of his own. He devoured classical sci fi and fantasy - so no wonder that by his early teens, he’d begun writing his own stories.
His path to authorhood, however, proved windier than he’d imagined. Dmitry graduated from college and went on to study at university. Then he got married. All those years, he treated writing as a hobby - as his own way to escape reality. Only ten years after he’d first put pen to paper, Dmitry started publishing his writing on the Internet, experimenting with a number of genres.
Today, Interworld Network is Dmitry’s most popular series which has become a bestseller overnight, combining the best of LitRPG and urban fantasy.
* * *
[1] The author refers to the Russian version of Winnie the Pooh, the 1970s cult cartoon series and the infinite source of Russian-language jokes and memes.
[2] Five hundred rubles: about $8.
[3] Koliva, a pancake — traditional Christian Orthodox funeral dishes.
[4] Hot tea with raspberry jam is a common folk remedy for colds in some Northern European countries.
[5] 45,000 rubles is about $700
[6] A catchphrase from the 1967 Russian comedy Kidnapping Caucasian Style
[7] 10,000 rubles is about $160
[8] Generally, Russians don’t adhere to the European tradition of having a drink or two a day, whether with a meal or after work. Although they can easily overindulge on occasion, Russians traditionally abstain from drinking on a daily basis.
[9] From The Master and Margarita, a classic Russian magic-realism novel by Mikhail Bulgakov
[10] The author means two million Russian rubles, which is just over $30,000
[11] This is a reference to a popul
ar Russian joke:
The doorbell rings. A man answers it and sees a strange woman standing outside.
“Was it you who saved my boy when he was drowning in the river yesterday?”
“That’s right.”
“So what have you done with his hat?”