Fortunately for Ordyntsev, he still had time to prepare. His future mentor, bearing the proud name "Jun," was very busy with the mass extermination of Sansa, dispensing justice to all who were unlucky enough to be nearby.
At the earthling's suggestion, Kizashi asked his grandfather, and the latter, after a few days, provided Stas with minimal information about his future sensei.
The information received caused Ordyntsev to have mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was better than it could have been, but on the other, there were some unpleasant peculiarities.
Jun Sumada was by nature a remarkably tough thorn, lodged so deep in the Council's backside that no matter how hard they tried to extract it, they never succeeded.
For starters, he was one of the bastards of the Fierce Ishiro. Yes, the very grandfather of Jishin and Izuna.
Ishiro was not one to limit himself in anything, and he couldn't care less about the rules for keeping the clan's blood within the clan. However, he was equally indifferent to his bastards.
He was, frankly, a terrible father.
At a very young age, Jun had already caused headaches for his future clan, after he was miraculously rescued from the water-wielding Mizuno.
Around the same time in that massacre, all his maternal relatives perished, his own mother, and the village they lived in. The water and earth techniques turned the site of the settlement into a mud pit where nothing has grown to this day.
This jolt began to shape the nasty character of Stas's sensei.
But the Sumada really howled when Jun grew up, for the young warmaster inherited all his father's main qualities – incredible daring, contempt for death, and monstrous strength even by his clan's standard.
Jun spat on his peers because he was stronger. He didn't care about senior comrades because he wasn't particularly afraid of death. Worse still, the young rebel didn't care much about the Council's disapproval.
And he would have been killed because, despite all his potential, he wasn't yet his father. But here, his lucky star named Goro Sumada played its part.
The ruler of the Sumada turned out to be a surprisingly family-oriented man, so he decided not to shed his numerous brothers' blood needlessly. Of course, he couldn't acknowledge a dozen bastards as part of his family, as it would cast a shadow over the entire clan. But he could bring them closer to himself and ensure their safety.
Thus, the Ishiro family gained control over a dozen potentially very strong members of a collateral branch.
This year, Jun turned thirty-five and could no longer evade the honor of taking on a team of students.
As Stas understood, the apprenticeship system was incredibly important and prestigious in local society. You could be as strong a warmaster as possible, but if you haven't trained any new warmasters to replace you, you're regarded worse than those who have.
Like a powerful but sick tree that cannot bear fruit or sprout new growth.
Moreover, warmasters' authority grew the higher their students achieved.
Old man Hideo had trained more than one experienced healer, so he was held in very high regard.
Perhaps that's why warmasters, despite all attempts to destroy their kind, had not degenerated and only became stronger?
The very principle of accepting apprenticeship had many nuances. For example, healers took one or two students, while ordinary warmasters took at least three.
Stas doubted that Jun was particularly eager to take on apprentices, so Stas had to brace himself to meet two more young warmasters, upon whom their future lives depended.
And how long that future would be.
Jun, as sad as it was, was a pure assault fighter. This meant that their team would specialize in clashing with enemy warmasters, capturing cities, and destroying everything up to the horizon.
But there was a significant plus; despite all the listed downsides, Jun was the last person who would listen to the Council.
Besides, he was an experienced warmaster who had survived in this world for a good thirty-five years, which deserved respect.
With the remaining time, Stas Ordyntsev decided to focus exclusively on things that would have the most immediate benefit.
It's hard to make long-term plans when you don't know if you'll live to see the end of the year.
After some thought, Stas focused on close combat, as insufficient skill in dodging and retreating could end his life within seconds.
This also included the fairly common local art of throwing various sharpened pieces of metal.
Given the overwhelming power of warmasters, even an ordinary knife could be thrown with such force that it struck no worse than a bullet. Warmasters threw everything: spikes, sharp slivers, hatchets, and shurikens.
However, Stas could only hope to master knives as the simplest of the provided tools.
In addition, Stas planned to coat his blades with poison so that even a minor scratch could give him a chance to win. In this case, a scratch might be enough, indeed.
The problem was that Ordyntsev last threw knives in his distant childhood, and now that did not help at all.
Therefore, Stas didn't really count on the five small knives that took up space on his belt to be of much help. His obligation to Hideo and Kizashi was steadily growing.
Ordyntsev made it a point to pay off his debts. And he owed these people a lot.
The second point was the familiar training in speeding up and infusing muscles with prana. If before Stas tried to be cautious, now his prana channels were literally groaning with pain at the end of the exercises.
The sensations at night were indescribable. It felt like not just the muscles, but the bones themselves were aching. The pain was not overwhelming but excruciatingly constant.
Yet there was no choice.
Ordyntsev doubted he would have much time for training at war.
He put himself through these tortures not so much for the fights as to simply keep up with the pace of his future comrades.
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The earthling had already understood that warmasters spent most of their time running, reaching the mission's target on foot. Without a good prana infusion, no one would be able to maintain such a frantic pace.
The third point was healing. Stas knew that compared to warmasters' offsprings, he would most likely lose on all fronts.
While they had been training since childhood, Stas had just over half a year.
Therefore, he needed to become the best in the area where all the others would be complete zeros. Healing was the best choice.
Moreover, it was precisely in this capacity that the Council sent him to his death.
Needless to say, there was neither the strength nor the time for alchemy and poison-making.
Nevertheless, Stas still spent a small part of his time on the most useful improvements to his combat effectiveness.
The first thing he took care of was a way to apply poison to his weapon. Since their group was supposed to be combative, long-acting poisons were useless, and it would have been criminal to waste time studying them.
Therefore, only weapon poisons remained.
Kizashi promised to provide Stas with his best compositions, but it was unknown how long they would be on missions, so the poisons could run out. Ordyntsev had to learn to produce at least a couple of the simplest, most common, and reliable compositions so that he could try to prepare them himself if necessary.
Nevertheless, the question remained of how to make the poison stay on the weapon as long as possible.
The solution turned out to be simple. Stas and Kizashi visited the town, where a blacksmith hammered microscopic depressions on the blades of his spear and knives right before their eyes. The idea was that the tiniest particles of poison would remain there, which would enter the enemy's blood in case of a wound.
However, this innovation still did not eliminate the need to coat all stabbing and cutting tools with poison right before the fight, as the latter dried out quickly.
At the same time, Ordyntsev could not ignore one of his strongest resources – Leviathan. Numerous mutations based on the natural energy flowing through her body had changed her dramatically.
Almost human intelligence, additional fangs for tearing flesh, bone plates on the head, a length of five meters, and a significantly increased width.
To this should be added the ability to glide through the earth and stone, plus the monstrous effectiveness of the poison, which simultaneously had the properties of acid and, as one might expect, actual poison. Levi could spit this liquid up to ten meters away.
Ordyntsev simply could not fail to use such a convenient tool that was always at hand.
But life likes to make adjustments even to the most beautiful plans.
Leviathan's poison acted exclusively inside living organisms.
Stas had to sacrifice more than one mouse in experiments before he came to such a conclusion.
The moment Leviathan's acid hit the air, it began to lose its magical properties within seconds. After a couple of dozen seconds, it was just an ordinary poison, not particularly strong against warmasters.
But if this substance was inside a living organism, it did not weaken at all, rapidly spreading through the bloodstream.
Moreover, as soon as the organism died, the poison immediately began to dissipate.
Obviously, Leviathan's poison was somehow fed by the life forces of the victim. Inside her, it received direct nourishment from its hostess.
In the end, Leviathan's poison was available only to her.
The news of Stas being sent to war was taken hard by Kizashi. It speaks volumes that he even considered going to war with Ordyntsev himself. In his eyes, it was as if the universe was specifically trying to spite him. Just as he had found a friend he could trust, that very friend was being targeted for death.
And only the joint efforts of Hideo and Shiro prevented him from committing this folly.
The old healer also did not appreciate the possibility of losing such a fortunate companion for his grandson.
Ordyntsev even thanked the spirited senior for trying to keep him at the Citadel.
That evening, having called them to his house and activating anti-eavesdropping runes, Hideo went on a swearing spree, denouncing the Council and their decisions. He even brought out alcohol, the iconic sake, after which all three of them shared a bottle of this "wonderful" drink.
At the end of the feast, Hideo slammed his fist on the table and loudly promised, "I wouldn't be a Sumada if I didn't take care of you coming back."
As it turned out, his care resulted in the order of light green leather scale armor and a dark purple jacket to wear underneath.
The armor was as light as possible, as Ordyntsev was not accustomed to wearing protective gear, and it only protected the most vital parts of the body. The same samurai armor was much thicker and covered a person completely.
When Stas asked why green, Hideo shrugged: "Trust an old man's eye, this color will suit you best." And with that, the conversation somehow faded.
Trying to play stealth in local conditions was pointless because not only were they an assault squad, but also no one else bothered with it.
Whoever tried would attract unnecessary attention and irritation from others.
*****
Stanislav was leisurely dressing in his room in a purple jacket and pants. Then he put on the armor, slid the knives lying on the bed into special sheaths on his belt, and arranged vials of poisons, antidotes, and Kizashi's most basic stimulants in the pouches.
Ordyntsev would have even agreed to sacrifice a couple of years of life, but the new generation of stimulants was not yet ready.
After that, he took the spear in hand – thankfully, the ceiling height allowed it – donned the green hood over his head, turned around, and looked at himself in the mirror.
The reason why locals rarely wore helmets was that steel was by no means the ultimate protection in warmaster battles.
At the same time, the freedom of movement and field of vision could indeed save a life.
Ordyntsev grimly surveyed himself in the small mirror. Looking back at him was a proud warrior ready to face any danger as if it were a given.
What a pity that inside this beautiful shell, things were not so wonderful.
The armor pinched and restricted movement. It was hot and uncomfortable.
What's worse, the man understood that he was going to be running around in this outfit for a very long time.
'Well, it's better than going against the local cutthroats bare-assed,' the man's face crossed with a wry smile. 'Now I'm in a much better position than when I arrived in this world. Maybe I'll get used to wearing this damn iron. What the devil? I never wanted to be a medieval reenactor.'
Below, someone rustled and then, hissing diligently, coiled around his legs and crawled upward.
Stas almost croaked with effort when Leviathan's body settled on his armor. As she began to grow in width, his pet had not yet reached the maximum weight categories of earth pythons, but even now, it felt like she weighed a good couple of dozen kilograms.
Considering the addition of the weight of the not-too-heavy but still armor, it's not surprising that Stas's mood was far from cheerful.
But there was a way out.
The prana that had spilled into his muscles flowed warmly through his entire body. And so, hunched shoulders straightened, and a slight smirk appeared on the face.
But this couldn't go on forever.
"Now, come on down. You're not little anymore."
"Sh-sh-sh!"
"What do you mean you won't? Now get off me, you pest!" sounds of a strained struggle. "I told you to get off! Let go of the plate, you'll tear it!"
*****
"You know, I rarely see spirits that resemble you," the interested hissing sometimes seemed to come from all sides.
However, Kaede was sure that she was not imagining it.
Being alone with an ancient spirit of Nure-onna, half snake, half girl, was not what a modest Kuchisake-onna had dreamed of.
But the yokai, weary from its confinement, had her own opinion on the matter.
In any case, the fact that Kaede was still alive could be considered good news.
"Lady Nure-onna, what are you doing here?" Kaede still mustered the courage to ask at least one question.
"Good question, little spirit," the Nure-onna smiled from the darkness of the lake. The water did not hinder her speech at all. Giant rings slid along the water, sometimes submerging. "A couple of hundred years ago, the Sumada made a deal with one of the great onmyoji to bind me here and create a talisman that, by drawing out my power, protects the lands above from various spirits and demons. That accursed onmyoji has long since died, and I still can't get away from here. Have I answered your question, child?"
"Y-yes, thank you."
"Don't be shy, speak more. It's been a long time since I've had visitors. I've missed conversation."
"What did you mean by saying that you've rarely seen ones like me?" Kaede hurried to fulfill the "request."
"Spirits rarely leave their birthplaces." the snake-woman shrugged. "After all, it's against our nature. The very essence of beings like us revolts and doesn't let us do that. Something truly unusual has to happen for a spirit to leave its home."
'Truly unusual.' Kaede froze, pondering a sudden thought.
"But satisfy my curiosity," the Nure-onna interrupted her thoughts. "I felt that when you saw me, you tried to call someone for help. Of course, it's useless here. But who was it? Your spirit guide?"
"Spirit guide?" the Kuchisake-onna was confused.
"You don't know?" the snake-woman was genuinely surprised, then quietly laughed, shifting her coils. "You're so young. It makes me want to..." the monster licked her lips, causing the little yokai to tremble.
"Don't shake. I won't do anything to you." the Nure-onna rolled her eyes. "As for your question, what do you know about... Hmm, tell me, why did you even leave your birthplace?"
"Was I not supposed to?"
"How neglected everything is. Fortunately, we have plenty of time ahead, and we're in no rush." The snake-woman smiled promisingly.