Heroist
Auto-translated
After several hours of intense briefing, Yulizia manages to extract scraps of important information from the taciturn trio.
—...A teleportation cube, then? Imperial intelligence could certainly use one. —Mr. Problemsolved's face was not visible behind clouds of smoke.
—Boss, you don't actually think!..
—...Just like the goddess's eye. —the scout continues his thought. —Alright.
Clapping his hands, he returns to the open briefcase, this time taking out a slightly crumpled map of Calcite and unfolding it on the table.
—Yu, hold down the edges so it doesn't curl up.
—Hold it yourself!
—And redraw the coordinates of the Temple from the client copy.
—Draw them yourself!
—Here we have the main headquarters and the first target. Was. —Kiven burns a mark over Barsina's location. —Bring the lamp here.
—What for?
—We're going to admire it. Hurry up.
Snorting in irritation, the girl steps away and returns with a lamp. The map of Calcite curls back into a roll.
—Give it here. —Kiven takes the lamp and thoughtfully clicks the switch. The room is lit by bright artificial light.
—Yu...
—?..
—... ... Not a desk lamp, but a magic one.
This time, an ancient Calcite lamp ends up next to the map.
—Rejoice, you're returning to your historical roots. —Folding his arms behind his back, Mr. Problemsolved paces the room with wide strides. —What does it say in the Manuals?
—Don't rush me! —the girl barely manages to handle the encrypted journal. —Ah, here! "Item Mh1zv5z/7.png or ... Magic lamp..." Let's see. "rub it and make a wish..." ... "The chance of success depends on their realism and the situation."
—Chance calculations with examples.
—They aren't here!
—Poor execution. —Kiven shakes his head, clicking his lighter. —Well, guess something.
—What?
—A husband, lots of money, and children.
—Sounds not bad, but I was thinking more...
—Interns don't think; they execute. Coordinates. Of the Apostles.
—This... maybe it's better to go home?
—Your home now is RSV. Come on, we need to test the limits of this thing.
—You are so nasty!
—You haven't even seen my boss yet. The list of experiments with artifacts didn't write itself.
Coughing away clouds of cigarette smoke that had thickened over the map of Calcite, the girl rubs the lamp and utters her first wish:
"My light little lamp... I wish for Mr. Kiven's map on the table before us to show the coordinates of the Apostle of Pride and the Apostle of Abomination..."
—...A teleportation cube, then? Imperial intelligence could certainly use one. —Mr. Problemsolved's face was not visible behind clouds of smoke.
—Boss, you don't actually think!..
—...Just like the goddess's eye. —the scout continues his thought. —Alright.
Clapping his hands, he returns to the open briefcase, this time taking out a slightly crumpled map of Calcite and unfolding it on the table.
—Yu, hold down the edges so it doesn't curl up.
—Hold it yourself!
—And redraw the coordinates of the Temple from the client copy.
—Draw them yourself!
—Here we have the main headquarters and the first target. Was. —Kiven burns a mark over Barsina's location. —Bring the lamp here.
—What for?
—We're going to admire it. Hurry up.
Snorting in irritation, the girl steps away and returns with a lamp. The map of Calcite curls back into a roll.
—Give it here. —Kiven takes the lamp and thoughtfully clicks the switch. The room is lit by bright artificial light.
—Yu...
—?..
—... ... Not a desk lamp, but a magic one.
This time, an ancient Calcite lamp ends up next to the map.
—Rejoice, you're returning to your historical roots. —Folding his arms behind his back, Mr. Problemsolved paces the room with wide strides. —What does it say in the Manuals?
—Don't rush me! —the girl barely manages to handle the encrypted journal. —Ah, here! "Item Mh1zv5z/7.png or ... Magic lamp..." Let's see. "rub it and make a wish..." ... "The chance of success depends on their realism and the situation."
—Chance calculations with examples.
—They aren't here!
—Poor execution. —Kiven shakes his head, clicking his lighter. —Well, guess something.
—What?
—A husband, lots of money, and children.
—Sounds not bad, but I was thinking more...
—Interns don't think; they execute. Coordinates. Of the Apostles.
—This... maybe it's better to go home?
—Your home now is RSV. Come on, we need to test the limits of this thing.
—You are so nasty!
—You haven't even seen my boss yet. The list of experiments with artifacts didn't write itself.
Coughing away clouds of cigarette smoke that had thickened over the map of Calcite, the girl rubs the lamp and utters her first wish:
"My light little lamp... I wish for Mr. Kiven's map on the table before us to show the coordinates of the Apostle of Pride and the Apostle of Abomination..."
Whatever