検索キーワード： 著者 "Oleg Sapphire Alexey Kovtunov" すべてのカテゴリー

I could have been anything I wanted: a chef, a chauffeur, a pianist, an artist, an aristocrat . . . but where would the fun be in that? In my past life, I'd been one of the world's greatest demonologists, and horned lords and masters of the inferno had cringed and trembled with terror at my name. That name, in fact, was still around, still making demons tremble. And that was only the beginning, because in this world, I'd chosen to become a soldier. Why? Simple! The army turned out to be a total madhouse that obeyed no reason, and the only way to understand it was to experience it.

To anyone looking on, it would appear that a certain very young count is beset by too many enemies, especially considering that his Gift has nothing to do with combat. It’s as if the northern region that houses his county is a magnet for offworld invaders. But his enemies also include his competitors, and, of course, neighboring aristocrats who seek to seize the lands and assets of this impudent upstart, this Count Bulatov.

I was the most powerful healer in my world—the best, having devoted my entire life to mastering the art of healing. And yet, for whatever reason, my brother feared that I sought to claim his throne, and he marshaled his forces against me.

Mikhail isn't greedy, no! He's simply thrifty, practical. And he cannot fathom how anyone can leave trophies behind on the battlefield. No way does that mean he's stealing them! And of course Mikhail isn't a slave master! Although those who he corralled into signing service contracts might not agree. The earth mages, for example, who are still busy erecting all sorts of structures toward the successful development of Mikhail's county. They work in three shifts with no days off.

Michails Abenteuer nehmen ihren Fortgang. Er findet immer mehr über diese Welt und das Imperium heraus, in dem er jetzt lebt. Allerdings stehen ihm auch ein paar Überraschungen bevor. Man hat ihm zum Beispiel die Aufgabe übertragen, die hoffnungslosesten Studenten der Abteilung der Heilkünste zu unterrichten. Wahrscheinlich war das für Michail als Strafe gedacht. Aber am Ende sind es seine Schüler, die Pech gehabt haben ...

They were just a bunch of ordinary demonologists trying to summon an ordinary demon...but at the moment of summoning, something went wrong. Still, demon or demonologist—what was the difference to them, anyway? Either way, they were going to have fun.

Alle wussten sehr gut, wozu ein Heiler des Ordens imstande war… Und sie wussten auch, dass ein Heiler vor niemandem katzbuckelt. Ich bin dabei, die alte Herrschaft der Familie Bulatow wiederherzustellen, und jetzt habe ich alles, was ich dafür brauche. Einschließlich von Unterstützern aus einer anderen Welt. Arbeite für mich - oder geh mir aus dem Weg!

Michail kommt aus einer anderen Welt, einer Welt, in der die Macht eines Mannes ebenso wie sein Wort noch Bedeutung besaßen. Aber hier in seiner neuen Heimat ist alles anders. Nur wenige besitzen eine Gabe, die stark genug ist, um wahrhaft mächtige Magier hervorzubringen – und noch weniger Menschen scheinen zu wissen, wie man sein Wort hält. Wie kann er unter diesen Umständen am besten den Status der Familie Bulatow wiederherstellen? Als Oberhaupt dieser Familie gibt Michail natürlich niemals auf und findet immer einen Weg, seine Feinde zu überlisten.

Evidently, for whatever reason, there were still many who fail to comprehend who Mikhail Bulatov really is. These are the ones who see him as just a Healer. Their attempts to kill him in a duel, or to simply poison him only amuse him. But his first government contract to treat an aristocrat is encouraging. Mikhail enjoys working as a Healer—it is, after all, his calling. And how refreshing to use his Gift not to kill, but to heal, as well.

Mikhail's adventures continue. He's finding out ever more about this world, and the Empire in which he lives. But he's in for some surprises, still. They've tasked him with training the most hopeless students from the Department of Healing Arts. Perhaps this was meant to be a way of punishing Mikhail, but in the end, it's tough luck for the students. After all, look at who they got for a teacher! One thing's for sure, no way will these students end up as mediocre Healers!

A good Healer, they say, must use his Gift professionally. Really? No one in my past world would spout such nonsense! Everyone there knew full well what a Healer from the Order was capable of . . . And they also know that a Healer doesn't have to kowtow to anybody. But now, I'm no longer in that world. And in this world, I am not only a great Healer, I am also a great count, one that can do far more than heal, as my enemies know full well. But little do they know that I've only just begun!

Gangster, Aristokraten, Fremdweltler... Was macht das für einen Unterschied? Für Michail Bulatow - nicht den geringsten. Jeder von ihnen könnte ein Freund oder ein Feind sein, und ihm könnte es nicht gleichgültiger sein, woher die Leute kommen oder welchen Rang sie in der sozialen Ordnung einnehmen. Was seine Feinde betrifft, so sind alle Unterhaltungen mit ihnen gleich kurz, wenn ihr Inhalt sich auch unterscheidet. Und ja, diejenigen, die es auf ihn abgesehen haben, verstärken ihre Anstrengungen, und ihre Zahl erhöht sich.

Diese Welt hört nie auf, mich zu überraschen! Kaum habe ich ein Problem gelöst, taucht schon das nächste auf – meine unermüdlichen Feinde wollen an sich reißen, was mir gehört. Ist es so schwer für sie zu begreifen, dass ich, der Erzmagister der Heilung, nicht so leicht zu besiegen bin? Oh, warum nur glauben die Menschen in dieser Welt, Heiler wären die schwächsten aller Begabten? Das ergibt für mich keinen Sinn. In meiner früheren Welt wusste jeder, dass man Heiler gleichermaßen respektieren und fürchten muss. Nun ja, nicht lange, und sie werden sich wünschen, mir niemals begegnet zu sein.

The threats I've been facing in this world, well, it's like playing whack-a-mole. The local aristocrats are still conspiring to put roadblocks in the path of the ever more powerful Bulatov Family. And then I have the offworlders from another world—they haven't gone anywhere, either. They're still opening portals and sending through invaders, although, thus far, these attacks have been isolated grabs for loot and prisoners. A portal opens, offworlders dash out, get what they can, and retreat.

What could be simpler? On my very first day in this world, I was given the title of a count along with all the trimmings: a castle, name, lands and power. You'd think I had it made, but no . . . They seized my castle, took my lands, and now, I'm surrounded by enemies. Moreover, it's nothing but one headache after another with the authorities. And even though I wrested my castle back, the neighbors aren't going anywhere, and they live and breathe to tear off chunks of my land, and eliminate me, the new head of the family.

This world never fails to surprise me! I take care of one problem only to be confronted by yet another—my unceasing enemies want what is mine. Is it that hard for them to comprehend that I, the Archmagister of Healing, can't be had so easily? Why, oh why are healers in this world seen as the weakest of the Gifted? It makes no sense to me. In my former world, everybody knew that Healers were to be respected and feared. Ah, well. It won't be long before they wish they'd never crossed my path.

Mikhail's power had only grown with every new day, and his Family was also flourishing. However, so were their enemies. New ones had emerged, and old ones who'd long ago written them off were now stirring. But really, was this a problem? He was a healer, and there was always a remedy, and mandatory "treatment" could not be stopped! Indeed, his enemies would pay handsomely for it. At least, whatever remained of them.

Michails Macht wuchs mit jedem Tag, und sein Adelshaus war wieder aufgeblüht. Allerdings ging es ihren Feinden ebenso gut. Es waren neue auf den Plan getreten, und die alten, die sie schon lange abgeschrieben hatten, meldeten sich zurück. Aber war das wirklich ein Problem? Er war doch ein Heiler, und ein Heilmittel gab es immer. Und die von ihm verordneten "Behandlungen" ließen sich nicht aufhalten! Oh ja, seine Feinde würden teuer dafür bezahlen.

Mikhail came here from a world where not just force, but also a man's word, meant something. But here in his new home, it was different. Not only were there few here who possessed strong Gifts, or were truly powerful mages, there were still fewer who knew how to keep their word. How, then, was he to restore the status of the Bulatov Family? Of course, as the head of the Family, Mikhail would never give up, and he always managed to find a way to outsmart his adversaries.

Ich war der mächtigste Heiler in meiner Welt – der beste. Mein ganzes Leben hatte ich der Kunst des Heilens gewidmet. Trotzdem fürchtete mein Bruder aus unerfindlichen Gründen, dass ich Anspruch auf seinen Thron erheben würde, und führte sein Heer gegen mich ins Feld. Aber das spielt im Grunde keine Rolle, ich hatte ohnehin vor, ein bestimmtes Ritual zu versuchen, und jetzt... Ich bin in einer anderen Welt!? Nicht in meinem Körper, sondern in dem eines jungen Mannes! Und was soll das heißen – die Gabe des Heilers ist in dieser Welt nicht einmal den Dreck unterm Fingernagel wert? Offenbar, dass die hier nicht wissen, wie man mit Macht umgeht.