Here is the translation of the second part of your story. I've maintained the mix of modern dialogue and the internal monologue of someone who knows the "game's" future.
Translation
My father and I sat in a black car with tinted windows and a beige interior. Outside, shapes blurred past the glass. We were driving back from a private hospital. While we were there, we saw everyone: regular doctors, wizards, shamans, a druid, and a priest. To sum it up, they just gave me a blessing; they found nothing because there was nothing to find.
"They found a foreign influence in you," Father Arthur said. "But this influence doesn't threaten you. It's neither good nor evil, and it isn't some kind of benign tumor."
"So, there's something like a cyst in me? Or a benign growth?" I asked.
"No. Your brain—it's different from others," Father Arthur explained. "There is an outgrowth from your brain, but it doesn't cause any harm."
"And what did the spirits see?"
"The shaman said some have encountered this before, but they refused to elaborate. Wait, you don't remember?"
"No, I fell asleep after the first injection."
Father exhaled calmly. I thought to myself: Maybe that's why I have the System. Though it seems stupid—because of some thing in my brain, I can see what fey and fiends see with Truesight? And I can buy potions in a shop? I pulled out my folding phone and started guessing the password again, making sure my father couldn't see.
When we arrived, father asked: "Are you sure you aren't in pain?" "No, I don't feel it." "Then go get some sleep." "It's almost morning anyway." "Just rest," father said, sounding slightly irritated.
I went inside while my father stayed out for some fresh air. I walked through the corridors and up the stairs, then sat on my bed. Great Old One. Fuck. Subclass: Great Old One. All the Great Old Ones were insane pieces of shit.
Dendar is a prick who charms his followers and has sex with them—he calls it "not entirely voluntary sex." Ghaunadaur isn't the worst, but he loves oozes more than any other living creatures. Kezef is a sealed god; not much is known about him. As for the others, they aren't even worth mentioning. But the race... Inugami. A smile spread across my face.
I hurried down to the mansion's basement and started searching for books on races. Structure and Biomechanics of Races, How Homunculi Changed the World, Help! Help! I've Been Sealed in a Book! (too long a title), All Discovered Races Throughout History—that's the one.
I opened the book from the last page and checked the chapters. Erlin, this Ancient One, looked like a dog or a wolf with a white tail. Most likely, his race belonged to the canids. "Canid Race. First, one must understand how they resemble one another. Firstly: the structure of the muzzle..."
Sven sat in his room surrounded by books, head resting on his hand. He was sketching the creature that had terrified him so much. Suddenly, his younger brother Aurion entered the room.
"Sven, can you give me your picaria?" Aurion asked. "Yeah, if you find it, take it," I replied. He circled the room, checked the cabinets and shelves, and finally found it on the windowsill. "Found it, thanks," Aurion said. He saw the dull expression I had while looking at the books and glanced at my drawing. "You draw well."
When I turned to him, his face was close to mine. "Can you draw me?" he asked with a smile. "Sure, I'll draw you," I said. I was amused by his attempt to cheer me up. I grabbed a sheet and started sketching him with quick, sharp lines to finish fast. "You look out of it," my brother noted. "Yeah, didn't sleep all night," I said. "Oh, that's bad for you. Well, if you don't need to, then don't sleep," he joked. "Done."
I showed him my notebook filled with various sketches. "Why did you only draw the face?" my brother asked, raising an eyebrow. But as soon as our eyes met, he added, "But it's still wonderful." I turned the notebook back to look at the drawings myself. "And who is this fox in a kimono?" "It's just a regular dog," I said. "Creative," he replied. He stood up to leave, saying, "Alright, good luck."
I got up from my chair and lay on the bed. What a young charmer he is. Sigh... using that charm, he will eventually become the strongest Archlich, nearly achieving godhood. I definitely won't let him die at the hands of Qin Di Shan.
But who didn't Di Shan kill? It felt like everyone died. Wait—to return to my world, I have to survive in the same world as Di Shan for at least 10 years. That means I could also die at his hands. The original Sven died when he was 21. I have to change history.
But how? That question filled me with existential dread. Do I just need to get stronger? No, I'd bet a hundred that Di Shan could come up with a plan even against me. Maybe hide my power at the Academy? No, Cyrolin would see my true strength immediately; he broke the fourth wall in the game.
Sven is supposed to serve as the youngest knight, while Di Shan starts a revolution against the totalitarian regime. I have to change my position. No—then Arthur will suspect something. God, I'm between a rock and a hard place. If I join the revolution, I can't save my family. Maybe I should infiltrate the ZPM (Rights for Mordvainians), become Di Shan's right hand, and then kill him? Right in the middle of a mission, while he's looking at me, I'll say: "You're a fucking infantile psychopath!"