There may also be some inaccuracies, since English is not my native language.
Essentially, TBATE is first translated from English into my native language — and in that process, some details are already altered to make it more understandable for us. Now I'm taking that adapted (and somewhat distorted) version, revising it, rewriting it, and then translating it back into English.
I hope you'll point out any mistakes in the text that I might have missed.
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"That's why you need expensive booze!" Alaric declared as he slammed his glass down on the bar table. "Come on, handsome. Take a sip!"
I looked at the gray-haired old man, caramel liquid dripping from the corners of his mouth into his beard. After the drunkard who introduced himself as Alaric showed up in my library and asked me what continent I was from, I took him outside to get some answers to my questions.
I could copy some moments from the original because I knew what effect they would have. As in the original, Alaric refused to say anything without getting anything in return.
And lo and behold, the alcoholic wanted... alcohol.
Then he took me to his favorite place, which was pretty fancy for someone who didn't even wear shoes. And now we were sitting here, in the far corner behind the bar, away from the other patrons scattered throughout the bar.
"I don't drink," I replied, pushing the poured alcohol back to him. "Are you happy now?"
"I'd be happier if you ordered the whole bottle," said the old man, nudging me lightly with his elbow.
"How about this?" I picked up the glass of rum that had just been moved and began to slowly pour its contents into the sink on the other side.
"No!" Alaric cried, jerking my arm, which caused me to spill even more rum. "Okay, I get it!"
I put the half-empty glass back in front of the man, who quickly took it away from me.
"What kind of idiot would pour out such good rum? That's why those who don't drink have no soul," he grumbled.
My emotionless face made it clear to him that I was no longer in the mood to joke with him.
"You see..." Alaric whispered mysteriously, leaning closer. "I have a coat of arms that tells me you're not from around here."
He winked. "Just kidding."
...
"I don't need magic to figure that out," he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Anyone with half a brain could guess that if they watched you and your friend for a while."
"You've been watching me and Grey?" I asked.
"Only because you look like two white crows. You act like seasoned warriors, but your physique and flawless skin with that long silky hair suggest that you are either a noble, a spellcaster, or a student, or rather all of the above." Alaric finished his rum before continuing, "Your friend isn't much different from you, except that he's more of a homebody. On top of that, you look and act like a tourist from a remote village."
He waved his hand up and down, studying me with a casual glance. "You're a walking bundle of contradictions. If you were in a more militarized or politically minded Dominion, such as Vechor or the Central Dominion, I would bet all my non-existent money that you would be arrested in less than a day."
"Assuming you're telling the truth, why did you decide to show up?" I asked calmly.
"Trust me, kid. If I wanted to turn you in, I'd do it from a safe distance, but what good would that do me?"
"What do you mean?" I pressed on.
"I have nothing to gain from turning you or your friend in." Alaric paused, leaning closer for dramatic effect. "If I helped you instead, I'm sure we could work out some kind of deal."
I chuckled and shook my head. "I think you've had too much to drink. Besides, I don't have that much money."
"Oh, I wasn't counting on that," he agreed. "But I can still recognize a lucky ticket when it wiggles in front of my nose. And when there are two of them, it's even better, even more alcohol."
I sighed calmly, looking into his eyes. "So you're saying that even if you think..."
"I don't think, I know," he corrected.
"You think I'm not from here," I emphasized. "Let's assume your suspicions are correct. What can you give me, and what exactly do you want in return?"
"You and your friend are ascenders, or at least you're trying to pass yourselves off as such, right?" he asked.
I nodded weakly in response.
"Next. Regarding the resolution of immediate issues. I'll help you blend in with the crowd so you don't stick out like an armored troll shopping in the town square, without asking unnecessary questions."
"Without asking unnecessary questions?" I repeated with interest.
"To be honest, I don't care who you or your friend are," he replied, stirring the caramel liquid in his glass. "But that's not the point. I'll also help you prepare for the ascents."
"So you just want money," I confirmed. "How much exactly?"
"Sixty percent of all your earnings in the relictombs, as well as any accompanying allowances or trophies you receive while on the surface," he replied, as if he had set the figure before we even sat down.
"Sixty percent?" I asked skeptically.
"Hey! I'm leaving my expensive home and traveling with you, offering my protection."
"Do you have a home here?" I raised an eyebrow.
Alaric coughed. "The town is my home."
I rolled my eyes: "So you don't have a home."
"Don't be such a whiner, kid. Besides, the Stormcove Academy takes about thirty percent of its graduates' profits from the sale of awards or other precious materials found in relictombs during the first five years after graduation. And that percentage is even higher in Evening, Sehz-Clar, and the Central Dominion," he said, before adding with the most innocent expression, "But since you're from Alacrya, you already knew that, right?"
I said in a slightly disappointed tone. "Stormcove only takes five percent, while even the most prestigious academies for ascendants take twenty percent."
The old man's face stretched slightly and reddened, then he coughed.
"But," I continued, reaching out my hand to him, "since you seem like a good person, I'll agree to thirty percent."
"A good person? Ha....," he took a deep breath, his unfocused, drunken eyes met mine, but he shook his head and immediately replied, grabbing my hand and shaking it. "It's a deal!"
I thought for a moment about how to play my cards right now. I had a strange feeling that next time the zones would be different. The first ascent was clearly written by fate itself, so even if I was there, it didn't matter much, but now that Arthur was back on his feet, had received two GodRunes, and would soon receive a third, I think everything will start to change.
Suddenly, Alaric jumped off his bar stool, stumbled, regained his balance, and turned to me. "In any case, it's time for us to move on. We have a lot to do, and we're wasting the day."
After paying the bartender with a rune card, I followed my new, barely standing advisor. The first thing we had to do was create the "right story," as he called it. To do this, we returned to the hotel.
With a slight movement, I put my arm around Alaric's shoulder and, under his drunken gaze, entered Arthur's open door.
"Grey, today is a good day!"
When I opened the door, I saw Regis waiting at the entrance, while Arthur himself was lying on his bed. His gaze lingered on me at first, then shifted to the unkempt alcoholic, then back to me again.
The dog from the airwaves and the drunk man stared at each other silently for a minute, as if still processing what they were actually seeing. Suddenly, Alaric staggered over to the blazing black-and-purple wolf and... patted him on the head.
"Good dog, that's right," Alaric muttered as Regis turned to me, giving me a puzzled look.
"It's okay," I replied, addressing both Arthur and Regis. "This drunk gentleman, Uncle Alaric to be precise, will be working with us for a while."
"Well, in that case, everything's fine. How's it going, old man?"
"It speaks!" Alaric gasped, retreating behind me and using me as a shield.
"How rude. I'm not 'it'! I'm 'he'..." Then Regis leaned toward me and whispered, "Or am I 'she'?"
Smiling faintly at Regis, I said, "Does gender matter to a 'mighty weapon' like you?"
"I am 'he,'" Regis decided, while Alaric continued to mutter curses to himself about how he regretted getting involved in this.
Mentally, at that moment, I sent Arthur away for the evening, and he began to play along without question.
As soon as I finally managed to drag my drunken advisor into the living room, I began to explain our situation, omitting most of the details.
Alaric himself said he wasn't interested in our past. The general points were enough for him to come up with a legend.
"All right, Lucius, Grey. You did the right thing by not telling people the name of your bloodline. It has much more significance than your personal name," he acknowledged, his eyes darting between me and Arthur. "First things first. I don't know how you got so close to Denoir that they wanted to give you this dagger—his lips curled into a mocking smile—maybe you seduced their daughter with your looks?"
"Lend," I corrected, ignoring his teasing.
"Lend. It doesn't matter," Alaric waved his hand. "The main thing is that you don't associate yourself with the Highblood Denoir. While it would definitely help you get out of some unpleasant situations, it would also attract too much attention, especially when we're in larger cities."
"Then what should I do?"
"That's where I come in," Alaric replied. "I have an acquaintance, a skilled craftsman, who can forge your identities. You will be my nephew, whom I took under my wing because you didn't want to follow your father into the trading business. And Grey will be your childhood friend who stuck with us, and, moved by his feelings, I also made him my apprentice."
"You're lucky to have a skilled friend who can forge identities?" Arthur asked incredulously.
"Quite right, but he's seriously underpaid," he chuckled. "Two clients bring him more gold than his annual salary at the fancy lab where he works in Sehz-Clar."
Arthur frowned. "Sehz-Clar? Isn't that in the Southern Dominion?"
"Relax. He has a temporary warp tied to that city," he replied, taking a sip from his newly acquired bottle of alcohol. "Anyway, I need to know a little more about your... abilities."
"Enhanced regeneration, strength, speed," I listed.
"How enhanced? And no elements? So you're strictly strikers?"
"Very enhanced," I said confidently. "No elements, and yes, strictly striker. Grey and I have very similar runes.
Under Alaric's gaze, Arthur replied, "Enhanced regeneration, strength, speed."
"Have you ascents before?" he asked, deep in thought, ignoring me.
"Only once," I replied.
Alaric nodded, not at all embarrassed: "That's better than nothing. How big was your group?"
I tilted my head to one side. "Just the two of us."
"Just the two of you..." Alaric repeated slowly, raising an eyebrow.
"How far did you get?" he continued.
"We passed the convergence zone," I replied, watching Alaric's reaction. After my words, the old man slowly lowered his head.
After sitting for a while with his head down, the old alcoholic began to laugh like a madman.
Arthur's gaze shifted to me, and I looked at Regis, who was twirling his paw at his temple.
"I'm not crazy!" Alaric snapped, taking another swig from the bottle. "I'm allowed to be happy."
He looked at us as if we were made of precious stones. "It's not every day you hit the jackpot like this. Two strikers who are not only capable of surviving in the relictombs, but also of getting far enough to reach the convergence zone!"
"Maybe you shouldn't drink so much," Arthur warned, but before he could take the bottle away, Alaric shoved it into his dirty pants.
"Don't you dare, handsome," he narrowed his bloodshot eyes. "Take that away from me and I'll cease to function, and there's still too much to do."
He pushed himself off the floor and staggered toward Regis.
"Anyway, how did you manage to hide him?" he asked, studying Regis. "I expected him to attract attention, especially in these parts."
"I usually just sit inside it," Regis replied for Arthur and demonstrated by jumping and disappearing into his body.
Alaric just stared at Arthur for a few moments, opening his mouth only to close it again. He repeated this action several times before deciding to take another sip of rum. "I'm not even going to ask. Just... make sure that when your companion..."
"Regis," Arthur interrupted. "His name is Regis."
The old drunk made a grand gesture, rolling his eyes. "Just make sure Regis doesn't talk in front of the other ascendants."
"Right!" Alaric announced. "Now that I have the basic information, let's head to our first destination."
"Which one exactly?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
"We need to get you some new clothes," sang the drunkard, casually twirling around to demonstrate his point.
"If you're talking about armor for ascent, then I already..." Arthur began, but was interrupted.
"Bah! Not that, Vogart," Alaric snapped.
Seeing Arthur's face, I sent him a mental message: "They're animals with doe eyes that are at the bottom of the food chain. It's slang for an inexperienced ascender."
"Remember all my talk about you two being walking contradictions?" Alaric continued toward the door with his uncertain but surprisingly light gait. "Right now, either of you looks like some fugitive prince who thinks he's disguised himself by wearing shabby clothes. In fact, you would attract less attention if you just looked like a member of a wealthy family."
Arthur frowned, not wanting to look like one of those colorful peacocks strutting down the streets. "Can't I look more worn out, like a commoner? I'd feel more comfortable that way."
"No," he replied calmly, looking at me and then at Arthur. "Your faces stand out too much."
"Our faces stand out too much?" Arthur repeated politely.
"It's annoying," he grumbled. "If I had been born with a face like that, I would have simply courted some rich, high-blood lady and bathed in sweet rum every night."
Damn drunkard... hehe you have a nice dream
A couple of hours later
I looked at myself in the dressing room. Odile, the woman who owned the place, had dressed me in a white shirt tucked into black trousers. Instead of a tie or waistcoat, she told me to wear a black sweater under a dark blue coat. As a finishing touch, Odile chose what she called a stand-up collar to accentuate my suit and give it that "elegant, noble look" she kept talking about.
There were a couple more suits, one of which was almost entirely white and fit me like a second skin, strongly highlighting my face as my black hair contrasted with the white. There was another suit that was completely black with a pair of gold runes, which this time contrasted with my white skin and long black hair.
Unlike Arthur, I remained silent the whole time, only fixing my hair a couple of times. Arthur, on the other hand, was tense, as if he wasn't trying on clothes but going into battle with Agrona himself.
"He's a rather capricious boy, but I knew you'd want to get your hands on him," Alaric chimed in. The old drunk had also washed up, trimmed his hair and beard, and changed into an all-black suit. He drew the curtain, shielding himself from the gathered spectators, much to their disappointment.
"It's just a shame you didn't warn me in advance so I could get an artifact to capture the images," Odile sighed. She snapped out of her stupor and pointed her finger at Alaric. "But that doesn't change the fact that I did you a favor, you old drunk! And don't you dare deny it."
Alaric raised his hands innocently, one of them still clutching a bottle of rum. "I wasn't going to do anything like that, my dear old lady."
"Are you still drinking?" Arthur asked irritably. "How are you going to recover from a hangover after all that drinking?"
"There's no hangover if you're always drunk," he said importantly, tapping his temple with his finger.
Arthur couldn't respond to this wise statement.
We returned to the bustling streets as the sun began to set. The courier had to deliver a pile of clothes to the hotel, and we had only one last stop to make for the day.
We continued our journey through the streets of Aramur in relative silence until we reached the gates of a large, diamond-shaped, freestanding building surrounded by a lawn with lush grass. A single paved path led to the building, lined on both sides with statues of battle mages.
"Here it is, dear nephew," Alaric said casually, handing me a small metal card with the name 'Lucius' engraved next to a series of numbers and a date of birth indicating that I was twenty-two. In reality, I was younger, not even seventeen, but I kept quiet. Arthur received the exact same card, only with the name Grey.
Shortly after Alaric handed his ID and the piece of paper to the guard, the gate opened.
The old drunk ran his hand over one of the statues. "Impressive, isn't it?"
Although it was quiet outside, when we entered the doors of the multi-story building, a cacophony of sounds burst out from inside.
Alaric chuckled with delight when he noticed my dissatisfaction. "Noisy, isn't it? For someone like you, it must be like hell. Inside every Ascendant building, there is a teleportation gate exclusively for Ascendants and a platform where they can use their own temporary warps."
I looked at the various groups of mages gathered in circles, talking either to the workers or among themselves. From weapon and armor polishing services, glass-enclosed conference rooms for strategy development, and rest rooms filled with high concentrations of mana for faster healing, to spacious training halls that teams could rent. It was an all-inclusive facility where one could spend entire days.
It was very modern and majestic due to the columns and size of the building, which was made entirely of marble. Finally, we arrived at the area designated to assist candidates for ascension. Unlike the other rooms in the facility, the large circular waiting room was filled with mages.
With the exception of a few nervous applicants wearing ordinary clothes, most of the mages present here were around twenty years old, and all of them were dressed in various military uniforms. Several older mages in more traditional clothing walked around, talking to some of the mages in uniform.
"Most of the applicants come from academies, so they look like they have a stick up their ass," Alaric whispered with disgust. "Unfortunately for you, most of the ascendants look down on the 'untrained,' as they say. It might be difficult to get the groups interested in you, so give it your best shot, but don't overdo it."
The three of us took a seat at the far end of the waiting room after Alaric signed Arthur and me up for the practical skills assessment.
"Damn, I really need a flask," Alaric muttered next to me, discreetly trying to drink the alcohol hidden under his jacket.
"What you really need is a detox center," I smiled sincerely, genuinely enjoying the company of this strange alcoholic, I realized belatedly.
"Thank you for caring so much about your uncle's health, dear nephew," Alaric said with a fake smile.
At that moment, a guy in his mid-twenties came out of the narrow corridor.
"Move. You're next, Lucius," Alaric said as he stood up.
Glancing at Arthur, I followed the old man down the aisle between the seats, after which a thin clerk led us down a narrow corridor leading to a round room.
"You will enter the testing area through portal number five," he said, pointing to the shimmering gate. "Those accompanying you will be taken to the viewing room, where they can watch. Any questions?"
Alaric walked through the portal marked 'five' without saying a word, and I followed him. Examining my new surroundings, I saw that we were in a brightly lit tunnel.
Runes flashed on the immaculate white walls, lighting our way. To the right, off the main path that stretched out before us, was a staircase; a metal sign indicated that it led to the viewing room.
"Good luck." Alaric patted me on the back before heading up the stairs. "It'll be interesting to watch you fight."
I calmly continued on my way along the marble path; it all reminded me more of some kind of underground laboratory than a testing area. The room I entered was a small changing room with a bench where a tight-fitting suit was neatly folded and a locker where I could hang my clothes.
"For your safety, please put on the protective suit," a pre-recorded voice repeated every few minutes while I was changing.
Wearing a form-fitting suit made of foam material covered with runes, I approached the entrance with the clear inscription "assessment hall." As I approached the entrance, the runes on the suit flashed brightly—I had to admit it was impressive—and the doors slid aside as if only the suit itself was supposed to pass through.
As I passed through the automatic sliding metal doors, a vast room opened up before me. The enormous room was a perfect cube with sides measuring about forty-five meters, its walls pulsing with rows of intricately woven runes. Both the floor and walls were divided into smaller square tiles, but they stood out in no other way, except for a glass panel near the ceiling, behind which several darkened figures could be seen.
Oh, how many delicious runes there are to study here.
"Candidate Lucius, striker," boomed a voice from above. "Your test will begin immediately."
No more instructions, no more directions. Instead, a row of lower square tiles moved away from the wall, and three giant armored spiders crawled out... each at least three and a half meters tall.
A couple of minutes later
Having finished with the panels that sucked out the ether. The panel on the far wall slid aside, revealing a second entrance to the testing hall. A man and a woman dressed in white mage robes with a bright red stripe on their right arms emerged from there, followed by my "uncle" limping behind them.
"Forward candidate Lucius," said the thin man with glasses, reading from a notebook. "Flexibility in offensive magic — below average. Mana manipulation — above average. Athleticism — exceptional. Sharpness of mind — exceptional. Survival rate — exceptional."
Although I had to suppress my feelings towards the spiders, I still easily defeated them after memorizing how the runes worked. Passing through the trap zone became so easy for me that I finished it in literally ten seconds.
The bespectacled man finally looked up and smiled at me. "Congratulations, ascendant Lucius. You passed the test."
"Of course my nephew passed!" Alaric snorted, then came over to me and patted me on the shoulder.
"I must say, your ability to hide your use of mana is impressive," said the blonde, echoing the examiner's praise. "Even our suit couldn't detect the slightest trace of leakage when you were strengthening your limbs."
"Indeed, impressive," agreed the bespectacled man. "And combined with your intelligence, it will serve you well in the relictombs, as mana attracts many of the beasts that dwell there."
"I strongly recommend that you team up with a caster, since you specialize mainly in close combat. It would be even better if this group had a defender," the woman added before extending her hand. "We hope to see good results in your first ascent."
I shook her hand. "I'll do my best."
After changing into my everyday clothes, I was led through the teleportation gate back to the Aramur ascendants building. Nodding to each other, I sat down and waited for Arthur to finish his test.
After a while, Arthur came out, and Uncle Alaric returned our metal ascendant cards with the previously announced characteristics written on them. What was this for? Of course, to prevent cheating among the ascendants.
Thanks, Vritra, for the security, or whatever.
"I understand," I repeated for the fourth time as we left the room. "The right team composition is the key to success. We need to find Ascendants who praise not only our own skills, but each other's as well. We only need to pass through one zone, and nothing more. Got it."
Alaric narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. "Did I tell you that you're a very boring person?" he grumbled, staring at my face.
I ignored him, and the three of us walked down the brightly lit corridor, following the signs that led us to the ascension hall, which was conveniently located right next to the ascendant building. The corridors became more and more lively as we approached the structure where the ancient portal was located, which was supposed to take us back to the relictombs.
There were people of all shapes and sizes here. It was especially amusing to watch a giant warrior, who must have weighed over 130 kilograms, politely standing in line behind a petite girl dressed in what looked like an academy uniform.
"This is all I can do," Alaric said, looking at the portal with the same absent gaze I had seen in the conference room. He jumped when an ascendant passing by accidentally bumped into him and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "I'll wait in the hotel room."
"Thanks for your help, Alaric," I said, turning toward the line.
"Ah..."
I turned back and saw him reach out as if to grab me.
"Did you want to say something else?"
"Um..." Alaric cleared his throat. At that moment it seemed to me that he became even older "Just... don't die, kids. And never join teams that ask you to pay a 'fee'. They're always scammers."
"Thanks, Uncle Al. Did you want a hug?" I asked with a weak smile.
"Uncle Al?... Tsk, sarcastic boy. Just hurry up and get your damn badge so you can start making money," he grumbled, completely embarrassed, before turning and walking away.
Smiling slightly in response to his embarrassment, we stepped into the growing line, and although I was a little nervous, that nervousness quickly passed.
In fact, I was afraid to stray from the original plot. My strength lay in knowing what to expect, and that's why I lied to Arthur, saying I didn't know the details about the key stone. I hoped that everything would go the same way as in the original.
I knew that if everything went as in the original, Arthur would receive a new god rune and, along the way, kill the Granbehl children, which would start the Academy Arc.
And although I was tormented by certain thoughts for a couple of days, I made up my mind.
The future changed the moment I appeared in this world, and although I had read many fanfics where the main character breaks the plot with the words that he will not let anyone die and will save everyone or, on the contrary, the main character who is only trying to keep the plot going, but he can't do anything and he starts whining about it every chapter, I... I knew myself too well.
If I can keep my advantage, my knowledge of what's going to happen, then I'm ready to sacrifice a couple of people to keep the plot on track for a while.
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As you can see, the chapters are going poorly, sorry about that. I've written everything up to chapter 25 in my language, but I've been struggling to finish chapter 26 for three weeks now, and my motivation is waning. I need to write about the difficult childhood and some of the main character's decisions as a child, but I just can't; I just don't have any ideas.