Chapter 33
The Hard Road of Self-Sacrifice
In the Technocracy, there were many saints dedicated to the solitary task of helping others. Like all people with a strong sense of self-sacrifice, these magicians—the most inept being at least level 33—did very poorly.
Fringildo Iseka (level 33 in level 7) had specialized in curing injuries. So, when someone was hit with a massive energy blast to kill him, burst his lung, drive him insane, castrate him, or whatever, he would go and, using his power, cure him. For this reason, he had been nicknamed "handle." One time, he was hit twice in the same day. He said to himself, "Well, that's why they gave me two. But tomorrow at noon I'll be healed," he arranged that order within himself. "So I'm going to use my energy to continue helping others for the rest of the day." In truth, if he had been able to hold out until the middle of the next day, he would have been cured. But what he unfortunately didn't know was that he was going to die that very night.
U-22 Iseka Muffler (grade 33). He was "hit" in the arm, leaving it all black, when he was healed and not sleeping well from doing so many astral projections for others. When he saw the black arm—and not wanting to do an astral projection for himself and fully understand the severity of the magical injury because he was exhausted—he thought it was sufficient to send energy to that spot to heal it. And he healed it. But he died anyway, because he was unaware that he had been hit twice: once in the arm and once in the liver. This led to the development of galloping cirrhosis in this man, who had never abused alcohol in his life. The arm injury was only intended to distract him from the bigger problem. He would have survived, however, if someone had helped him; but the others, false friends who noticed he was getting worse every day, didn't warn him or offer the slightest help. They undoubtedly feared reprisals, the cowards.
S z-7 Iseka (grade 33 in grade 1). Strong as Rasputin. He overdid himself in all kinds of tasks: physical and magical. He worked at the port as a stevedoring worker, working four shifts—no dockworker works more than two—eighteen hours a day.
He was recently married to a very beautiful woman. He slept standing up on the bus on his way to and from work. At home, he fornicated constantly. Generous, he spent a few minutes doing astral projections to solve other people's problems. An incredible, unique case of power and endurance. They gave him two strokes: one of great energy; the other, a small one, to distract him. Having slept poorly, like all the others mentioned above, he couldn't resist properly and became ill, despite having been warned about the diversionary maneuver. With a new trick they gave him, one day he fell off the gangway into the sea. A moored boat pressed his ribs against the dock and smashed it. Therefore, one of the first rules that had to be learned in the esoteric group of the Great Mozart, to which Decameron of Gaul belonged, was: when you meet one of these holy men, who have the "vice" of self-denial, you have to be extremely careful. They give and give, until they give everything, without limit or measure. One believes they are the bottomless pit from which one can draw with impunity and indefinitely. The gods do not forgive the disciple responsible, through convenience, stupidity, or selfishness, for the death of their master. "If the master dies because of you, you will deal with us later." This legend, said to be written by the gods themselves, was reproduced in all of Great Mozart's meditation places.
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