One against the whole world... Well, at least against the most harmful part of it. Okay, maybe not completely alone, although the benefit from this help is noticeable. But when the authorities need a decent alchemist, a passable necromancer or a black magician with imagination, for some reason they remember me. As if I am one in three persons! And when the time comes for the deepest secrets, you can only rely on Rustle, the damned undead. And how are we still alive? A world created by those who knew nothing about it, for a purpose that no one remembers now, by means worse than only a brick in the face... And don’t you dare call me a bore! This is not possible with black magicians.