The fierce storm had somewhat abated. The almost skin-splitting rain streams had calmed down, turning into a normal, albeit very strong, downpour.
The sky lightened up, replacing the charcoal black clouds with drifting grey ones.
But for the remaining defenders of Rashta, there was no cause for celebration. After the last two assaults, at best, half of them remained, or, more likely, even fewer.
Of course, the ordinary people suffered the most terrible losses. Where a weak warmaster might at least try to dodge, seeing a technique flying towards him, an ashigaru could only perish and nothing more. But even so, the casualties among the warmasters were also considerable.
Nonetheless, their fierce resistance had borne fruit.
The captured Higatsudo's first line of walls was a sorry sight.
After enduring numerous earth and water techniques, it was almost completely ground down to its base in a couple of places. And to this, one should add the breaches created by the samurai's runic explosives.
Each explosion left an ugly crater, rapidly filling with water and... blood. At the moment, the support troops bustled about, constructing "bridges" that would allow fresh fighters to pass.
There were so many dead ashigaru, and they "popped" so easily, that the entire battlefield was evenly covered with pink mud mixed with chunks of flesh and bones. Here and there, "stumps" stuck out of the water, where one could discern someone's fingers or toes.
Despite the incessant rain, the traces of the assault had yet to be washed away.
Because the ground before the walls had been repeatedly churned by techniques, it formed muddy pits.
More than a few careless ashigaru, accompanied by their own screams and cries, sunk entirely into the bubbling quagmire. The Gaibatsu fortress continued to collect its bloody toll, even without the help of its owners.
Ordyntsev shrugged his shoulders, as if a cool breeze had blown on his back. He was incredibly far from the knowledge level of a full-fledged onmyoji, but even so, his understanding was sufficient to realize that the death of so many sentient beings could not pass without consequences.
It became clear that the Mizuno and the Higatsudo samurai had also suffered significant losses, disrupting their ranks. Not only the brown cloaks of the Sumada clan were visible on the destroyed walls but also the blue of the Mizuno.
All this allowed the defenders to catch their breath and regroup. An immediate offensive was postponed, and there was a chance to at least try to improve their odds.
Sighing heavily, Stas raised his hand. Tired as he was, no one but him could do this job now.
"If there are seriously wounded advanced warmasters nearby, bring them here! I'm a healer, and I still have prana to patch someone up!" Stas said, while indifferently ignoring the dark looks from the ordinary fighters.
A dissatisfied murmur passed through their ranks, but it took just one piercing look from those serpentine pupils to make the dissenters hurriedly lower their eyes to their mud-splattered feet.
The earthling's words held a harsh and merciless truth.
In this war, the real value lay with the advanced warmasters. The ordinary were nothing more than lubricant for the katanas of stronger fighters.
Besides, Kaede and Mari simultaneously picked up their weapons, helping the last doubts leave the minds of the especially hot-headed lads.
Stas didn't have to wait long.
"Master. Master!" Ordyntsev turned to see the tired ordinary coming towards him, carrying someone's limp body. "Please, heal our commander!"
Ordyntsev slapped his palms on the ground, and a thin stone wall that had shot up swiftly moved to the side, forming a canopy that now effectively shielded the healer from the rain.
Next, a stone slab rose.
Stas didn't make the "ersatz-operating table" particularly sturdy, as it would have to be removed in case of battle so as not to be a hindrance.
The wounded woman was carefully placed on the table, after which the trio of bearers collapsed into the mud, bowing deeply. Their foreheads pressed into the water.
"Please, save our sensei. We will never forget your kindness!"
"Hey, move them; they're in the way," Stas said, turning away as he tended to the patient while the sound of the unresisting students being dragged off could be heard behind.
What he saw made Ordyntsev freeze for a second - the spectacle was so attractively repulsive.
Words failed to describe how gorgeous this young woman had been before. Now, war, with its ugly mockery, allowed one to compare, so to speak, the "before" and "after."
If the right side of her face could compete with the best beauties on Earth, then the left side would rather evoke associations with a certain notorious comic book villain. But even there, it wasn't as bad.
Flame-red hair, chiseled, sharp cheekbones, and a pleasant curve of the lips on the right, neighbored with virtually a bare skull on the left side.
Mizuno's water technique had completely stripped the skin and much of the muscles, crushed part of the jaw, and taken some teeth along with it. The eye had also met a terrible fate. Now, in its place was just a bloody red hole, with muscle remnants dangling.
Ordyntsev was once again amazed at the vitality of powerful warmasters, as the woman's unconscious state was caused not by the injury itself but by exhaustion and the depletion of prana.
In other words, even having lost half of her face, she continued to fight and only fell powerless after some time.
Moreover, after a thorough examination, it became clear that her injuries did not end there.
Shaking his head, Stanislav set to work. First, he fused the torn vessels and covered them with some connective tissue. This didn't make the woman's face look any better, but she no longer risked bleeding out if the pressure caused her already damaged carotid artery to finally break off.
Next came the turn of the other injuries. The usual work of removing debris and fusing muscles and vessels distracted from the fatigue and emptiness that had settled after the battle.
As Stas was finishing up, the woman came to her senses, and her only eye bulged from the wild pain.
Ordyntsev had to urgently cancel Healing Palm and charge his hands with prana to hold the warmaster down on the pitifully creaking stone tabletop.
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"Lady Ayami, you've come to!" cried the disciples standing aside, eager to rush forward. But Stas's subordinates stood firm, not letting them pass.
The woman's gaze gained clarity, and she quickly assessed the situation.
"Gu-m-m-gu," she tried to say something, but instead of coherent speech, only utterly unintelligible moaning came out.
"Forgive me, but I couldn't save your tongue," Stas explained with a cold face to her silent question. "There was simply nothing left to save."
Of course, had Stas been at full strength and not spent most of his spiritual power, which turned into ether, he might have tried to do something. But right now, he needed all his strength.
A shocking realization dawned in Ayami's eye. Meanwhile, Stas continued impassively to brief her.
"Mizuno's technique destroyed a significant part of your face, and if you didn't feel pain on the battlefield due to adrenaline, now, if I hadn't shut down most of your nerves, you'd be howling in pain. However, even so, I couldn't shut them all off, or you wouldn't be able to fight. Therefore, this pain will be with you until the end of the battle. Nod if you understand me."
A single tear rolled timidly down the woman's intact cheek, but that was all she allowed herself. Ayami nodded sharply. Stas didn't know whether it was the realization that her beauty was lost forever, as current healers couldn't restore something so delicate, or the constant pain that tormented her.
Straining, the woman sat up, then abruptly jumped off the table. With each step, she came to her senses more and more. As she walked toward her disciples, the warmasters standing to the side shamefully turned away and averted their eyes.
Stas didn't see, but no more tears fell from the female warmaster's stone face. And although the rain continued to drum on her exposed muscles, she relentlessly moved forward.
'Damn, such fortitude makes me uneasy. By the gods, if they exist, some people still manage to faze me - despite all that I've seen in this life.'
"Who's next?" Several hands were raised simultaneously. While he was attending to the wounded woman, a small queue had formed beside him.
Not all the approaching advanced warmasters were unconscious, but some were still carried in arms.
The earthling's gaze met those craving healing.
"Lay him down here," he nodded to the nearest bearers.
"Hey, lad, I know you," the feverish voice of the new patient cut through the viscous silence. Ordyntsev looked closely but found nothing familiar in the thirty-five-year-old man lying in front of him with slightly feminine facial features. "Don't look like that; we haven't met."
The wounded man shook with bubbling laughter. Blood-tinged foam seeped from under his right hand, which he was using to press a wound on his chest.
'Understood, the lung is pierced.'
With his left hand, the wounded man was trying to keep his intestines from completely leaving his abdomen. The result was left much to be desired.
"You know, you did a cool job patching up the Lovely Ayami," the man continued unabated. "And no, I'm not mocking - that's just her nickname. Probably not anymore. There's the irony in all its glory, huh, lad?"
"Patient, please don't move and stop talking." Ordyntsev frowned. This warmaster's love of chit-chat was hindering the earthling from closing the wound in his lungs.
"My name is Yoshito. If I survive, I swear by the Kami, I'll repay you," the patient smiled.
"I shall now put you to sleep," Ordyntsev's eyes flashed with an unkind light.
"Alright, alright, I'll keep quiet." The warmaster took the threat seriously.
After the second patient came the third, then the fourth.
There weren't too many with serious injuries, for in the last battle, you either dodged and got away with a light wound or died.
Stas tried to use as little prana as possible, so he visualized what he was doing in the smallest detail. It took time, but apparently, they had enough of it.
The losses of the Mizuno and the Higatsudo turned out to be much more severe than expected, forcing them to spend time reorganizing.
However, the fifth patient presented unforeseen difficulties.
"What do you mean you won't heal me, you snot-nosed brat?!" yelled the warmaster lying in the arms of his men. A huge, pulsating vein popped on his forehead, and the bearers almost fell from the reality-shaking bloodthirst.
"I repeat," Ordyntsev said through clenched teeth, "I cannot heal your legs."
"What nonsense, I swear by your whore mother's ass, are you spouting?!" the man glared at Stas with bloodshot eyes. "I've seen healers calmly reattach severed limbs. So here I am, and here are my legs!"
In a frenzy, the wounded man began waving his legs at Ordyntsev. The problem was that he was holding them in his own hands, and they were detached from the rest of his body.
A water blade had chopped them off cleanly at the knees.
To make his point even clearer, the warmaster began clapping the soles of his feet together, as if they were hands, further intensifying the eerie surrealism.
"I could have done it," Stas roared, pushed to the edge. The nightmare that had unfolded in the last hours had worn even him down. "But where are your knees, huh? That technique didn't just chop them off, it completely obliterated your knees! I have nothing to attach them to!"
Stas was entirely right; about ten centimeters of the warrior's legs simply ceased to exist.
"Then make something!" the crazed warmaster had completely lost touch with reality and, dropping his severed legs, suddenly reached for Stas's throat with blood-covered hands. Considering his strength, the threat was no laughing matter.
Bang!
The wounded, thrown from his men's arms, rolled away, losing teeth, across the stone floor.
"Huh, I see you're still having fun!" Stas gratefully looked at Jun, who had appeared at the last moment. "Hey, you forgot your legs!" with a raspy laugh, the supreme kicked the stumps to the immobile cripple.
"Sensei!" Mei exclaimed joyfully, hanging on the teacher's neck and burying her face in his chest. "Sensei," she sobbed and then burst into tears. "It was so scary there." A soft whimper. "I almost died so many times!"
"Oh, come now," under Stas's surprised gaze, Jun gently patted the student on the back. "You're a Sumada, princess. Stuff like that won't get to you. Dry your tears. You're stronger than all this." Hearing something so caring from the perpetually sarcastic and harsh man was strange. Nevertheless, after a few dozen seconds, he pushed her away.
Mei, wiping away tears, hunched over, staring blankly at the stone walls. Eiji, standing nearby, turned away, swallowing a heavy lump in his throat.
'As much as they tough it out, they're not old enough to be dunked in this hell. Another reason why Jishin and Katashi's plan warrants any sacrifices.'
Ordyntsev took a careful look at the sensei, and it was evident that even though he hadn't participated in the battle, he looked terrible.
The black bags under his eyes, the pale face, the labored breathing, and the overall slouch spoke volumes about his repeated crossing the prana depletion limit.
And what else is there to say if he even had physically withered a bit.
Resisting three times the number of supreme warmasters was not an easy task, no matter how you looked at it.
"Alright," Jun's gaze settled on Shiro. "Stop this crap. Enough wasting your prana on those who are almost corpses anyway. Besides, come with me. Something like a council is being planned. You can attend and then pass on what you hear to the others."
Considering their overall speed, the path ahead was not very long. The massive bulk of the keep quickly rose in all its glory.
Passing through the empty, maze-like corridors, they arrived at their destination.
They were greeted by a hall where grim high-ranking leadership was gathered. Before them stood the commander of the fortress's troops, Kero Jonoro, and next to him, the commander of all the Sumada, the supreme Koji Sumada.
The latter appeared to be a man with a broad bald patch atop his head and a face somewhat resembling a horse's muzzle due to protruding teeth. Thin mustaches only completed the picture.
The other supremes were there as well.
And while the warmasters and samurai were no odd sight here, the presence of an unbelievably ancient elder dressed in a rune-adorned robe seemed strikingly out of place.
At Jun's arrival, everyone was quietly chatting with each other.
"Well? Checked on your team, Jun?" one of the supremes with a squashed nose and a wrinkled forehead chuckled sarcastically. "Is that your last one? I told you you'd make a poor sensei. They're going to die on you, sure thing, just die."
"Shut it, Michi," Jun replied amiably. "My students aren't like yours. And I brought Shiro so I wouldn't have to run a second time."
"Quiet, everyone!" came the order from the commanding samurai, echoed by supreme warmaster Koji. The whispers died down. "Master Takehiro Satoshi will share the plan for our further actions."
All eyes immediately fixed on the skinny old man.
"He-he," the elder laughed with a rapid and staccato, eyeing the gathered with a suspiciously burning gaze. "As already mentioned, my name is Takehiro Satoshi, and I am the master and creator of this work of contemporary runic art. Everything you see around was created by me. This is my greatest masterpiece! The pinnacle of runic mastery. A unique achievement of science and the triumph of human intellect..."
"Master," the commander standing beside him frowned.
"Yes, I know, I know," the old man rolled his eyes. "As you've already witnessed, Gaibatsu could have protected its defenders from anything, but not in the face of such a numerical advantage. And so, in the end, I decided to conduct a big experiment! Yes-yes, an experiment!"
Stas finally realized what was inside this decrepit skull. The earthling swallowed quietly – the runic master was utterly and hopelessly insane.
And now it was worth remembering that they were all in the "masterpiece" of a mad seal master.
Stas had an awful premonition emerging.