Ruslan Tushentsov//Ilya Mazelov//Mazentsovs

The streets are 14th-century towns with crooked cobblestone paths and labyrinthine streets. Residents lived peacefully, but after a while, mutants and sorcerers/witches appeared.

More about mutants: there were mermaids, elves, all sorts of water weirdos, and those fucking whatever they're called, like catboys but with wild animals.

Ruslan was a witch, or a sorcerer, as you like, he knew how to cast spells, but he didn't cast spells for nothing, only for business.

The locals hated witches even more, saying "it's from the devil," which is why mutant and sorcerer hunters appeared.

Ilya Koryakov, a young elf who recently befriended Ruslan, had a sweet face, a green cloak on his back, a crooked belt on his shirt, a gap between his teeth, and a sleepy expression that suited him quite well. His hair was tousled and black. He had a Greek nose and elongated ears, which he could twitch.

Ruslan Tushentsov, the sorcerer, is so handsome, almost chocolate-colored. His hair is chestnut brown, his eyes are hazel, his facial expression is serious, firm, and a little wary. He has a ton of tattoos, but if you look at his face, you can see the bat on his neck.

They were both walking through the forest, deep in it, the sun shining through the leaves. This isn't a pine or spruce forest, no, it's a regular forest with birches, all kinds of lindens, mixed trees, in short.

"Listen, Russ, conjure me up...a ​​barrel of beer this big!" Ilya gestured, examining Russ's profile.

• No, I don’t do such magic... Ruslan looked at Ilya, warily peering into his pure green eyes.