'It's alive! It's alive!' Stas barely restrained himself from exclaiming this loudly and making ominous hand gestures. Although, a serpentine smirk still crossed his face.

And though Kizashi had gotten somewhat used to such emotional displays from his "student" over the past few days, such smirks still occasionally made him shrug his shoulders as if a cool breeze had blown against his back.

There was something unnaturally enthralling about it all. As if you were standing on the threshold of something very important, and something inaccessible to ordinary mortals awaited you on the other side.

But what would they demand from you in payment for crossing this threshold?

The lad forced himself to discard these involuntary reflections. His grandfather used to get angry when Kizashi got too absorbed in his thoughts. And although Shiro never shouted or threatened him, the alchemist still tried not to anger him.

Just to be on the safe side.

"Congratulations, Shiro-san," Kizashi, standing nearby, emotionally ruffled his hair, once again turning his hairstyle into 'who knows what.' "You are indeed talented for your age. Usually, the older a person gets, the worse prana reacts to their commands. But you've hardly been affected by that problem. Amazing!"

Lying off to the side, Leviathan lazily lifted her head from her personal basket, then, after confirming nothing interesting was happening, lay back down.

Although, her bed was hard to call a basket. Rather, something like a "basket-strocity" would be more appropriate for such a size.

Over the past few days, Levi had started growing again, though not in length, but in width, starting to resemble a small python. If she was once long but thin, now under her white scales began to roll clearly visible bundles of muscles.

Stas did not react to yet another Kizashi's assault on his own hairstyle; however, he noted in his memory the need to work on this in the future.

As the alchemist himself wholeheartedly approached the training and teaching of Stas, so the earthling, in gratitude - and not only - quietly, by roundabout ways, tried to correct the habits of Hideo's grandson.

This was expressed, among other things, in attempts to add more self-confidence to the lad and his actions.

As it turned out, Kizashi had a huge list of fears and concerns that almost drove him to neurosis. Thus, the lad forced himself to double-check any of his results, sometimes up to ten times, fearing any mistake and subsequent condemnation.

Moreover, he made no distinction depending on the complexity of the work. For example, he could spend hours even on calculations in which he could navigate almost blindfolded.

In the end, Ordyntsev made it a rule to praise his involuntary sensei's achievements at least once or twice a day. Why so little, although sometimes it could be done much more?

The fact was that Kizashi was not a fool. Despite society forcing him to hide and conceal all his ambitions, the lad would have no problem noticing unbacked flattery.

Which is why Ordyntsev tried not to overdo it.

Now, their lengthy training to master the first and, incidentally, the most important healing skills had ended.

In general, it is important to note that the art of healing has one of the strongest connections with ordinary human knowledge if compared to other arts.

To put it more vividly, a warmaster is not obliged to know exactly how they make the earth rise into giant cliffs, crushing their enemies.

Such an approach made the earthling's brain literally boil, giving birth to one theory after another.

So far, it seemed that prana had, if not intelligence, then some kind of ability to remember the wishes and aspirations of its owner, transforming them into something feasible.

This is why, by the way, warmasters were able to train kinship with the elements. Their prana gradually adapted to the necessary criteria.

"I heard about one master," Kizashi explained. "He was so afraid of being killed by an arrow that he invented a technique based on the element of lightning. This warmaster developed only one element to perfection, meanwhile training his prana specifically for this technique."

The alchemist even waved his hands from the feelings overwhelming him.

"He created a permanent technique that worked even when he slept. A powerful electric field that slowed down all metallic objects the closer they were to him. His prana became so imbued with his desire to be safe that it took over the technique itself."

"And how did the master's fate end?"

"I don't remember well. Apparently, he was killed by a spear with a tip made from the fang of some magical creature. As my grandfather says: 'Kizashi, even if you think you've created a technique that protects you from everything, there will always be some freak with a lineage precisely against your defense. So don't you dare relax in battle!'"

Kizashi often mentioned his grandfather, his experience, and his words. And it did not annoy, but rather pleased. The old warmaster's wisdom was the quintessence of the art of survival.

But let's continue and return to the difficulty of studying the art of healing and why it was not as widespread as the path of destruction.

While investing power, those on the path of destruction do not have to bother with a deep understanding of why fire burns and what water, earth, or air is.

They simply memorize the necessary combination of actions required for the techniques to work, after which they painstakingly polish this methodology to perfection, so it rolls off their tongue.

Only a few of them achieve such a quality ability to control the elements that they decide to study their magic and the surrounding world more deeply. And even so, they rely not so much on knowledge as on random experiments.

What happens if you compress fire a lot? Oh, it changes color? And what if you compress it a little more? Oh, it started to buckle more against prana control. Oh, it's breaking free. Oh! I can't control it! O-oh… Followed by the sounds of flame and the falling of ash from yet another unlucky experimenter killed by unstable plasma.

"My grandfather is considered a genius," Kizashi proudly explained. "He personally created several new techniques and even donated a couple of them to the clan's public library."

Stas nodded understandingly.

Techniques are the main value of the world of warmasters. Even the clan itself cannot always demand the secrets of its own members.

In the art of healing, unsurprisingly, the same principle worked as in the art of destruction. That is, beginners simply memorized techniques without understanding what they were doing at all.

But unlike the elements, healing prana required an exceptional amount of energy and control for its work.

And here was an interesting point.

Control and the quantity of prana were inversely proportional. This meant that if the volume of a warmaster's prana reserve began to grow too quickly, as with various children of good lineage, their control over their power also plummeted rapidly.

And the weaker the control, the more they invested excess energy in their techniques, simply wasting their reserve.

In the end, an unpleasant dependency emerged. Being a healer required having large reserves of prana so as not to faint after a particularly complex operation.

On the other hand, excellent control was needed to activate healing techniques and create healing prana in the first place.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

With such starting requirements for this art, only the very best of the clansmen of the warmasters' world could become the best healers.

But obviously, they didn't particularly need it, as they could become just as good, but already in a much more showy art.

After all, the techniques of healers didn't flaunt a large scale. Where they simply healed people, other warmasters drowned armies, raised mountains in place of fortresses, or conversely, brought them crashing down to the depths of hell.

And here we smoothly come to what so interested Ordyntsev first and then even made him ecstatic.

Young healers, treating patients with prana, often didn't even understand what they were doing. They simply applied their green-glowing hands to the damaged areas and gave the order. After that, the energy somehow mystically figured out on its own what exactly needed patching up in the body.

But even here, unexpected problems arose. Although the healing prana tried to correct irregularities, it often had malfunctions that caused tissues to grow somewhat wrong and bones to twist or lengthen in the wrong direction.

Because of this, the healer had to carefully monitor the process, maintaining a steady flow of prana and cutting it off if something went wrong.

And here, if they understood at least something in the processes they were creating, they could significantly reduce the costs for one or another treatment.

As mentioned above, healers were very dependent on understanding what they were actually doing.

That's why healing a large area of torn muscles expended much less prana than restoring an eye or an equally complex organ, where healers did not understand the restoration process at all.

When Stas first heard about this concept, he was incredibly skeptical. And later, upon further questioning, the situation did not change.

Healing prana somehow knew what to do on its own, taking information either from the body of the injured, from the planet's noosphere, or directly from some kind of spirit world.

Of course, there were many advanced techniques directed at different parts of the body's internal organs or even by area, but the general principle remained unchanged for them all.

"Sometimes even experienced warmasters use it," Kizashi slightly closed his eyes, remembering. "I haven't seen it, but my grandfather told me that sometimes there's neither the strength nor the time to properly concentrate on complex techniques. So he just pumped as much healing prana into the patient's body as possible and hoped that this supply would be enough to fix the most dangerous problems. He himself continued to fight, protecting the wounded."

Ordyntsev made no comment on this approach, only noting in his memory the need to deal with this issue in the future.

However, such "rough healing" devoured prana reserve even from the Kizashi, who was quite strong by warmaster standards, stubbornly approaching the rank of advanced warmaster.

But even with his current power, the young alchemist could take a very good position next to his illustrious grandfather and eventually take his place.

Unfortunately, bouts of blood phobia completely disrupted any control over even the simplest healing technique.

And psychological help in this cruel world, to put it mildly, left much to be desired.

Having carefully familiarized himself with all these expositions, Stas quickly came to the obvious conclusion of how exactly his knowledge could be combined with local magic.

Everything was on the surface and, at the same time, opened up great prospects.

Where the natives spent a lot of energy so that torn tissues miraculously healed, Stas would stitch them up himself, removing the damaged fragments, and then just accelerate recovery.

Inflammations, poor tissue engraftment – all these horrors of medics would become a thing of the past.

Even just such an application of this power would give him a huge advantage in prana costs. It's needless to mention the difference once he reaches truly complex and powerful techniques.

And healers did have such techniques, albeit in much smaller quantities than the adepts of the art of destruction.

All this filled Stas Ordyntsev with incredible inspiration and a desire to spend all twenty-four hours training.

Before the thirsting earthling opened up a whole world that almost demanded to be dissected, laid out on shelves, and then reassembled. In a new, better guise.

The earthling had not forgotten his first dream after arriving in this world - achieving immortality. If you're going to set a life goal, why not choose just such a one?

If he succeeds, the remaining eternity can be spent coming up with a new goal.

And now was the best time to take the first and most important steps towards achieving this dream.

To dig, reinforce, and pour concrete over the future foundation on which the majestic and terrifying city of his power will be erected.

The heir, having received an order from the clan head, quickly departed for the reignited frontlines. Stas feared that he would remember him, yet he was spared. Along with Izuna, his guards and fighters close to him left, giving the earthling a little more breathing room.

After some time, Jishin also received some mission and rolled off in an unknown direction. Ordyntsev learned about this accidentally from the conversations of the servants.

In the eyes of the locals, without those two, Stas's personality did not present much interest, which ideally suited the man's plans.

That's why Ordyntsev pushed so hard on his teacher about healing, thanks to which the first results did not take long to wait.

And although at first it was all interesting, it gradually transformed into something... terrifying even for the earthling himself.

*****

After the lecture on healing energy, which, in Stas's opinion, was still a bit short, Kizashi decided it was time to try to master the very first and, incidentally, the most important technique of such a noble art.

The technique was called "Healing Palm" or "healer's hand." It had to be taken into account that in the world of warmasters, due to the widespread secrecy, many techniques were discovered many times over, which is why the same technique could have more than a dozen names.

Incidentally, it was another source of confusion in battle with exclamation of techniques.

"Healing Palm" was an important catalyst and served like an ignition candle, generating waves of processed healing prana.

Experienced healers built further techniques on its basis, using the released energy. Beginners, however, were content with the primitive application of a glowing palm to the wound, along with attempts to convey their desires to prana and make sure it didn't accidentally kill the patient.

The best way to learn to create this very beneficent energy was to attempt to activate the technique on a living and injured being.

So to speak, to bind the concept of injury to the creation of the "Healing Palm" technique by a conditional reflex.

But no one would let an inexperienced healer practice on people or even on livestock since everything costs money. Because of this, in front of a surprised Stas lay a slightly different working material.

"I specifically asked the servants to catch more of them yesterday," Kizashi smiled contentedly, looking at the high-sided dishes with squirming and crawling earthworms.

"Ah," the alchemist slightly closed his eyes and bashfully ran his hand through his hair. "It brings back memories. Grandfather brought a whole bunch of worms and insects to our first lesson. By that time, I could control prana a little already, but only knew a couple of the simplest and easiest earth techniques. To grow a bump or turn a little dirt into sand. Ideally, we should start from that with you too, but let's try from the next level..."

"You were talking about your grandfather and the worms," Stas gently brought the conversation back on track. His interlocutor often got distracted by unexpected thoughts or ideas.

"Oh yes! I was so afraid to touch those worms. How angry grandfather got and shook his mustaches. They were not completely gray then." There was poorly concealed sadness in the lad's voice.

"Was it somehow related to your fear of blood?" the man tried to distract his interlocutor from sad thoughts.

"No, no. They were just disgusting and slimy," Kizashi perked up. "I only react to human blood. Even with animals, I have no issues."

"Hm, curious," Ordyntsev raised an eyebrow, noting this in his memory. "Where do we begin? I, fortunately, am not afraid of worms."

"Of course," laughed the alchemist. "I'm sure you wouldn't be afraid to practice on people either," he stopped, meeting the earthling's gaze. "Sorry, I didn't mean... Um... Exactly! The technique."

Kizashi hurriedly approached one of the tables and, after rummaging around, pulled out from under it a device resembling a miniaturized version of some inquisition torture instrument. It was in it that he stretched and fixed one of the worms.

"Insects are the most suitable subjects for the initial practice," the lad's tone became solemn and instructive. Stas didn't interfere, allowing his protege to gain confidence. "The thing is that due to their small size, very little prana is spent on their healing. In addition, they have a very high survivability, so even with one worm, you can work for a very long time."

"Understood."

"Of course, when we move on to something more complex, we'll have to switch to amphibians, fish, and even bigger animals, but for now, insects will do."

Kizashi took a sharp knife lying nearby and cut the worm into two equal halves, after which he fixed them with two more clamps so that the edges of the cut lay as tightly and evenly against each other as possible.

"Now, I will explain how to create the technique. Most likely, you won't be able to do it even after the first few days or weeks, but that means nothing," Kizashi hastened to reassure Stas. "I knew students who struggled with it for three to four weeks and then became excellent healers." The last part the alchemist said as if struggling with himself.

Ordyntsev nodded favorably, appreciating the good intentions. Apparently, the alchemist was afraid that his acquaintance wouldn't succeed and would be disappointed in Kizashi as a teacher.

"Repeat after me," the lad returned to seriousness and touched the tips of his fingers to the worm's body. Stas did exactly the same, but from the other side. "Right now, you must wholeheartedly wish to heal this creature. Your desire must be as sincere and steady as possible. And keep your concentration, Shiro-san. Grandfather hit me on the head with a fist of love if he saw that I was distracted."

At the earthling's sideways glance, the alchemist blushed, realizing what he had just said.

"Um, it's just that grandfather calls his punches during training that way. As he says, to add me at least a drop of brains."

Stas preferred to just nod, not commenting on it at all. Kizashi, having exhaled with relief, gratefully continued the instruction.

"When you finally form the desire to help in your head, you must direct it into the prana flowing in your body, then move it to your palms and, finally, release it, uttering the name of the technique."

"Healing Palm." Kizashi demonstratively pronounced the activation key, demonstrating no strain or effort at all.

Emerald beams shot from the alchemist's fingers, entered the worm's body, and, under the admiring gaze of the earthling, almost instantly joined the cut. At the same time, his hands were again covered with an aura of shining energy.

'It's so beautiful indeed,' Ordyntsev shook his head, not knowing what to say. 'A riot of colors and energies. Life and death at the fingertips. It's a pity I never knew how to compose poetry.'

"Now it's your turn." Another slash with the "scalpel," and this time, Ordyntsev placed his hands and frowned.