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Watching this team effort, Zeikin gloomily smoked, mentally lamenting how unfair life sometimes is.
The gods "rewarded" him with the opportunity to observe the supernatural, with no option to refuse, which gave him countless sleepless nights in prison until he crafted earplugs, thereby saving himself from the monstrous screams of tortured prisoners. Meanwhile, in a random, rundown tent at a crossroads, rings are sold for a small fee, convenient to use and accessible to any peasant. Of course, it's unlikely that he would be a customer for this product – it was hard to imagine anyone buying such an artifact, except for some ridiculous eighth-grader who is fascinated by occultism.
Gathering all the phlegm he had, the warrior produced a mighty spit into the illusory wall and flicked his cigarette butt there with a snap of his fingers.