Posts from 🍁Nine Ancient Obelisks Auto-translated

Kamistella somehow sensed that the young man didn't respect her. And according to the automated trust test results, Asmidul scored only 20 points out of 100 for Attractiveness. "Lord Himal mentioned something," the lunar elf nodded. "Before we begin, I'll ask a direct question: do you understand what I'm talking about? Cursed energy, its source, and so on. The source can be dark artifacts, conspiracies, undead, spellcasters, and many other things. Usually, it's immediately obvious." The problem turned out to be quite strange: she was given only one scroll, and therefore she wanted to use it only when necessary.

Didn't they give you the scroll so you could learn the spell from it and use it as many times as you want?

Didn't they give you the scroll so you could learn the spell from it and use it as many times as you want?

Whose fault is it that Camistella paid too much attention to her beauty and wealth and didn't pay enough attention to her intellect...

Who is to blame for the fact that at the beginning of the game restart, the spell was learned automatically, and now they give a scroll? I took this as different game mechanics.

Whose fault is it that at the beginning of the game restart, the spell was learned automatically, and now they gave a scroll. I took this as different mechanics.

Well, you haven't used your Order Skill yet, so you can learn the spell right in front of Asmidul and get to work...

Kamistella somehow sensed that the young man didn't respect her. And according to the automated trust test for Asmidul, he scored only 20 points out of 100 required for Attractiveness.

“Mr. Himal mentioned something,” the Lunar nodded. “Before we begin, I’ll ask a direct question: do you understand what I’m talking about? Cursed energy, its source, and so on. The source can be dark artifacts, conspiracies, undead, spellcasters, and many other things. Usually, this is immediately obvious.

The problem turned out to be quite strange: she was given only one scroll, and therefore she wanted to use it only when necessary.

—Only in general terms. —it was clear that finding the amulet would calm the sorceress, but the scholar was now interested in the possible mark on it and the disturbing trace in the dwelling. If the guild couldn't identify them, then they would be of no use in his case. —So, you will be checking me and my house?

Kamistella was clearly not pleased with the answer, but she nevertheless began casting the spell on Asmidul, while simultaneously remembering how to use these newfangled scrolls and, if necessary, spending all the required points.

Asmidul truly emanated a cursed energy.

Kamistella nods to herself and casts a spell on Asmidul's house from the outside, but doesn't go inside, apparently not considering it necessary.

The reaction at home was the same.

Kamistella compares which scent is stronger: the scent of the house or the scent of the owner. In the process, she playfully uses a spell on herself, deciding to check if it can detect the lingering effects of an old attack by a black knight and the banshee's ability.

What causes more harm: the house or the owner?

I don't approve of Lunarian racism.

The three-tailed whip rustles gently in the air, and its handle rests in Ushumgall's palm as familiarly and comfortably as the hilt of a saber. The red marks on her snow-white skin form a new, whimsical pattern with each swing, as if it were a very careless tattoo, and when his partner flinches from the blow, he himself feels as if the whip first burns the delicate skin, then the impulse from the blow bypasses the almost non-existent layer of fat, makes the muscles tremble, and reverberates in the lungs. He hits hard and accurately – the whip is too soft to cause serious damage. If he had a heavy scourge, he could cut the flesh to the bone... Then this graceful back would become twice as beautiful. His face twitches with predatory excitement. The stern gaze of the instructor suggests that he should not give in to anger. Ushumgall himself feels the line that separates human pleasure from causing pain, from the pure rage of a beast. With each whip strike, with each drop of hot wax, he gets closer and closer to this line, he swings the whip faster and faster, he lowers the candle lower and lower, and, already close to causing a real burn, he stops his hand. What is happening now should be much closer to sex than to battle. The process is more important than the result, and in this game there are no losers. And there is no need to rush. Three seconds is enough for both of them to take a breath, take a small step back, moving away from the peak of pleasure and pain, and the instructor, with a barely perceptible nod, already gives the signal to continue. The handcuffs dig into her delicate wrists; it will take some time for the marks to fade. Ushumgall takes the chain and lifts his partner with one hand. She weighs no more than forty kilograms; with his strength, he could lift her above his head or drag her behind him like a rag doll. The metal digs deeper, and a quiet moan escapes her. He has to punish her with the whip – otherwise, she cannot be taught... He raises his arm, she closes her eyes, but the blow does not follow. Predictability is always bad; Ushumgall saves the blow until the green-haired girl, in confusion, opens her eyes. His arm shoots out like a coiled spring, making his partner feel the whole difference between prepared pain and unexpected pain. There are only two paths – overcoming and submission, and she needs to understand that the second is easier and more pleasant... The last stage of pain is fear. He takes the chain and wraps it around her neck. Ushumgall immediately noticed that the girl is very attractive – but only now, with her skin flushed from the blows, with drops of wax frozen on her body, with traces from the handcuffs and the chain around her neck – now she is truly beautiful. Leaning on her spine with his knee, he pulls on the ends of the chain until her eyes widen with horror. “Enough!” When he releases the chain, the girl falls to the floor, not very gracefully, like a sack of potatoes. Gently, almost paternally, he puts his arms around her shoulders and helps her to her feet. “It was good, you did well. Thank you.” He turns to Naoe. “And thank you, Master. I think I still have a lot to learn, as soon as I get a little money. Oh yes, since I'm here, will you put a magatama on?”

Camistella compares which emits a stronger magical signature: a house or its owner. As a side note, she playfully uses a spell on herself to check if it can detect the lingering effects of an old attack by a black knight and the banshee's ability.

The reaction from Asmidul was stronger than from the house.
In Camistella, the magical detector didn't detect anything divine or cursed, but there was a magical reaction.