"Radiation levels are back to normal. Keep an eye out for fresh anomalies and don't forget to upload any changes to the map. The Emission is over. Good hunting, Stalkers."
And that was it.
Sidorovich announced the end of the danger through their PDAs. The storm had been over for an hour by then. But the stranger refused to open his door until that message arrived.
"Phew, don't know when I was sweating this hard before," he said. "And it's already winter."
Dmiry covered him, poking the barrel of his Kalashnikov out first.
Only Konrad remained on the floor, fiddling with his artifact ever since his rescue.
His mana pool was still empty.
No change, no matter how many methods he had tried.
The ambient recharge. Meditating. Borrowing the Captain's extra anti-rad artifact, or—
Not even strumming his guitar.
The strangest part?
His blade was warm. It must have still brimmed with mana, but he couldn't feel it.
Of course, he couldn't transfer it, either.
There was nothing he could do but watch the high-grade artifact he had found the day before.
And he could no longer see into its inner workings anymore.
His Bubble was almost like an actual Black Hole. Half solid, half translucent, and if he looked long enough, he could almost see an event horizon around it. Except that the thing was green.
And, well, its shape wasn't a perfect globe, either.
But it did its job, draining every radiating particle away from his vital organs.
"Never seen anything like that," the Stalker noted when he returned. "And I've been in the Zone for two years. Only ever found shitty low-grade stuff. You're here for one day, and—"
"Beginners' luck," Dmitry claimed, standing by the door.
He didn't add anything else, but the way he held that rifle and his body language were obvious.
One more step, and he'd put a hole through that guy.
Whether he helped them or not.
"Huh, I hope spending some time together will let some of your luck rub off on me," the guard laughed. But he got the message and backed away. "My pals should return in a minute."
Which meant the nearby gate would soon open, and they could continue on their journey.
Because, as it turned out, this Stalker wasn't the only one manning this checkpoint.
He and his friends weren't with the Wolves, either.
His shoulder patch had a boar on it, and his team was out on patrol when the storm hit.
"It's our duty to keep the Bar monster free," he explained as he grabbed his binoculars. "That's why the fence is here, too. It won't stop anything serious, but you saw it. The swarm avoided it."
"Thought we were dead when they started running," Dmitry grunted.
That made Konrad shiver, too.
"Yeah. Thanks for the save," he mumbled, putting his Bubble away. "And for sharing your shelter. If I'm being honest, I still don't know how I managed to survive that."
Which was a lie.
He knew exactly what saved his life, at least from the stampede.
But what happened after, and if he could ever cast a spell again?
That, he didn't know.
"Stalkers help each other out," the stranger smirked as he scanned the distance. "And, here they are. Hmpf. I bet they had it nice and cozy during the Blowout at the Bar."
"Is it usually crowded?" the Captain asked, walking Konrad to that fence.
The guard laughed.
"Define crowd. Might be two dozen Stalkers at most. But in the Zone, that's a lot."
He waved to his comrades, and they returned the gesture.
In three more minutes, the gate was finally open, and Konrad was on the road again.
"You scared me, kid," Dmitry noted once they were out of earshot. "And you've been strange since that storm. Not that I'm surprised, but—you're a different strange, than I expected."
Konrad scoffed.
"I was a bit obvious, huh? But the thing is—"
No. He let his voice trail off.
The Captain was the only one in this world who knew about his magic.
He followed him because of the spell that saved his life.
But what would he do if he found out that Konrad could no longer cast it?
"The thing is?" Dmitry asked, raising an eyebrow. "Finish your sentences, dude."
Yeah. Nothing good would have come from telling him.
"I was fucking terrified," Konrad improvised, but careful to avoid his gaze. "I was this close to shit my pants. And guess I need some time to rethink my life choices after something like this."
The Captain laughed, patting his back.
"No shame in that, mate. I've been in a battle before, and I've seen worse," he said. "What's important is that you're all right, and we didn't lose anything in that crazy stampede."
Yeah. Right. Nothing.
Except he lost everything.
It was a good thing that Konrad had no time to feel bad for himself.
The Bar—which must have been some old agricultural complex—soon came into view.
It had a lot of concrete. Sandbags. Old, faded posters and hand-painted signs everywhere.
Not in a language he understood, but Dmitry was there to warn him.
"Ah. They want us to hand over our weapons before entering," he read the first one, scowling.
"They did say it's a haven," Konrad shrugged. "Safer if a drunken idiot doesn't have a gun."
Besides, if it were up to him, they could have kept his AK and Makarov for good.
Or—no. He thought that when he still had spells much deadlier than those.
But now? Damn it.
"Yeah, this place is actually crowded," the Captain muttered, watching the number on his PDA go up. "And with a little luck, someone saw your guy and will lead us right to him."
Yeah, as if.
By the time they reached yet another checkpoint, the radar settled on the number twenty.
And since this one had three huge guys behind sandbags with the same boar shoulder-patch—
It was safe to assume that most of those twenty were guards, not guests, too.
"Pokladitʹ svoyu zbroyu," a man in his thirties greeted them, as far as Konrad could tell.
"Zvychayno, zvychayno, ale ne vtrachayte yikh," Dmitry replied, whatever that meant.
He unhooked his AK from his shoulder and waved him to do the same.
Some more Ukrainian barking and a security check later, they were finally inside. Too bad, he could no longer use mind-reading to figure out what they were talking about.
"This way," the Captain pointed to the right, then left, leaving the checkpoint behind.
"I'm surprised how intact this place seems," Konrad mumbled as he looked around.
"Well, it wasn't built to be pretty, but to last," Dmitry said. "And these guys take security a bit—"
"Come in, Stalker," a guard in a literal hole in the concrete wall startled them both. "Don't ya stand there. Head in. Grab a drink. If you have any useful info, the first one is on the house."
While weapons weren't allowed in here, he was sitting behind a huge .50 machine gun.
"Yeah, no complaints about security," Konrad muttered, taken aback.
"Mhm," Dmitry nodded along. "Yeah, let's go. You can't say no to a guy behind an NSVT."
The guard grinned, waving them along, one hand always near the trigger.
And for some reason, Konrad had never felt this vulnerable before, in any of his lives.