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Healer of Monsters
Volume 6. Chapter 2

Volume 6. Chapter 2

"That's precisely why I decided to make my masterpiece ultimately serve the common cause," the old man's speech grew more disjointed and emotional, his tone rising. "That's why I came up with a way to overload the energy source of the fortress!"

"Master," Kero Jonoro's plaintive voice brought the old man back down to earth.

"Forgive me, I got carried away," Satoshi caught himself. "At the base of Gaibatsu, there is an energy source that powers all the shields you've seen. Previously, no one knew how to detonate such runic constructs. Usually, the energy merely dissipates harmlessly, but Gaibatsu is capable of much more!"

"Thank you, master. I'll take it from here," Jonoro interrupted him. He surveyed the gathered with a stern gaze. "As you've realized, thanks to Master Takehiro, we plan to blow up the fortress. The strength of the expected explosion is unknown…"

"It will be something unimaginable!" Satoshi began to gesticulate wildly, flapping the sleeves of his robe in all directions. "My name will go down in the history of runic art!"

"As you understand, all of us together won't be able to escape the blast zone in time," the commander ignored the master's delirium. "That's why some of you will remain behind to lure the enemy into the trap, while the rest of us will take refuge under the ground."

A deadly silence hung in the room.

And if for the first few seconds no one could believe what they had heard, then soon after, the warmasters' gazes involuntarily settled on each other, and hands rested on the hilts of their blades. The samurai, though fewer in number, were no different.

"Stand down!" Koji Sumada raised his voice, unleashing his bloodthirst. "Those who succumb to panic will be killed immediately!" confirming the commander's words, all the supreme warmasters stepped forward.

Stas closed his eyes. The situation was becoming clearer. Nobody would send supremes to their death, but the supremes, without a second thought, would do so to everyone else if it saved their own lives.

The question now was, was there a reason why only Stas stood here with Jun, while the other two students were absent?

"Wait!" cried one of the advanced warmaster commanders, nervously looking around. "But if the explosion is that powerful, it will affect everyone, no matter how deep we bury ourselves!"

"Good point, young man," Satoshi nodded approvingly, hands clasped behind his back as if he were giving a lecture. "That's precisely why such genius as me devised a way to direct the main energy of the explosion to the sides, not downward or upward. Of course, some energy will still leak out, but the survivors' forces will probably be enough to protect us."

'Probably?!'

Stas, trying not to attract attention, looked around. If the choice of who remains fell on him, he wouldn't hesitate for a second.

Let someone else die for supreme ideals and equally supreme warmasters. The only problem was how to discreetly get Mari and Kaede out...

"Stop fidgeting, my crafty student," Jun said grimly, causing Stas to freeze. "Whatever you're planning, get that nonsense out of your head."

The sensei's gaze pinned Ordyntsev to the ground. Right now, they stood on the edge of the assembly, so they didn't attract much attention.

"We have been given the great privilege of sacrificing our lives to hold back and doom the enemies to death," Jun continued, seemingly oblivious to how the earthling's eyes grew wider with each word. "It's an undying glory and heroism that only a warmaster can achieve! So, my advice to you is to accept your fate with honor."

Stas was about to object, but he could only gasp for air, unable to articulate anything. Any doubts and words shattered against the foolish conviction of his sensei.

'I need to come up with something fast!'

Jun's face, glowing with an inner fire, was crossed by a solitary spasm, after which it began to redden rapidly.

"Bwaha-ha-ha, you fell for it again! How many times now?" Jun choked out, unable to utter another word, convulsed with outbursts of laughter.

Stas involuntarily folded his arms across his chest, regretting for the umpteenth time that he ended up with such a teacher.

The gods see, sometimes he could drive even the stoic Shiro the Serpent to wit's end.

Some of the nearby advanced warmasters turned disapprovingly towards the grunting with laughter Jun, but quickly looked away upon realizing who he was.

No one wanted to mess with "Pain-in-someone's-ass-Jun."

"Don't wet yourself," the sensei finally calmed down a bit, scorched by his student's condemning gaze. "Remember who I am! I am the great and magnificent Jun. Who, by the way, is a supreme warmaster. Which means I can take all my students with me. So once again, some nameless weaklings will have to die for us." There wasn't even a hint of pity in the sensei's calm voice, which made Ordyntsev snap out of it.

Stas reminded himself yet again that although his teacher could behave friendly and cheerfully towards them, one shouldn't forget who he was - a merciless and nearly indestructible killing machine.

A sort of cannibal rat[1], bred from the corpses of its own kind, destined to bring death among them.

However, there was one more question that Stas found interesting.

"No, of course, some of them will have to die," Jun correctly interpreted Stas's gaze, nodding towards the standing advanced commanders. "In the end, someone has to lead the ordinary warmasters to death. They're choosing the unlucky ones right now."

Under the gazes of Stas and Jun, the selection process began.

"But why would they agree?" Stas quietly asked his teacher. "Wouldn't they have a better chance trying to break through or slip away? Yes, it's almost certain death, but still a chance at life?"

"That's why I love you, my slippery student," Jun smirked. "You don't have an ounce of that lofty nonsense that samurai and, let's face it, warmasters too are famous for. If you're dead, what good is glory or money to you? Respect is good for the living; for the dead it's useless. As for their loyalty, remember that most of them have families, relatives, and children. If they tarnish themselves with cowardice, the shame will fall on their kin. And they understand that the supremes won't allow them to escape, killing the deserters before they get away from the wall."

"I see." Stas nodded, watching as, one by one, those who were to sacrifice their lives stepped aside.

Somehow, the ones planning to survive smoothly moved away from the doomed, as if they were contagious with some incurable and highly infectious disease.

'Although the disease is well known,' Ordyntsev thought with disgust, 'and its name is "misfortune." Since ancient times, people have followed those favored by fortune. Whether it represents intelligence or the ability to unconsciously choose the right path doesn't matter. The main thing is that it works. Just like with the Vikings, if people think a jarl has lost his luck, then no one will come to his ship.'

"Alright, off you go, to the wall," Jun ordered, exchanging glances with some supreme. "When the signal comes, run to the keep with Mei and Eiji."

"Hai."

The return was just as swift.

Only it was incomparably more unpleasant.

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Unbeknownst to him, Stas began to feel all those hopeful gazes that people cast at him. In him, they saw a chance for salvation. Someone who could pull them out of a deadly trap.

Yet, in reality, he was just one of the elites who would be pulled out and saved simply because of lucky connections.

It was almost unbearable.

Soon, the fiery Gehenna would consume the entire surrounding world, bringing hell to earth and claiming its gruesome toll.

Mei and Eiji, having heard about the salvation, literally lit up with joy. The moral side of the question didn't touch them at all. Mei likely thought that, as a princess, she deserved more than to die here. As for Eiji, he simply didn't care.

Not wanting to see all those gazes, Ordyntsev approached the edge of the wall and looked down at the completion of the storm preparations. All those people down there had no idea what awaited them.

An inexplicable desire to shout, to warn, arose. It didn't matter who, friend or foe, so they would run away and forever abandon the idea of war - but even a child would understand that it was impossible.

Stanislav stood on the brink of disaster, utterly unable to change anything.

And one of the things he hated most in this life was his own helplessness.

What good was all this inhuman strength if all he could do was kill? Not to save and help, but to bring death and devastation.

Ordyntsev shuddered when he felt something touch his hands. Looking down, he met Leviathan's understanding gaze.

Through their unbreakable bond, Levi felt Stas's emotions, so she tried to comfort him in any way she could.

Stas gratefully stroked the snake on the nose, sending her a wave of tenderness and determination.

By sheer willpower, he cast aside unpleasant thoughts. As much as he was irritated by the injustice around him, it wasn't he who created it.

The nightmare that was happening was the warmasters' own doing. So, let them reap what they sowed. In this drama, Stas was nothing more than an accidental spectator.

Ordyntsev gave an encouraging nod to Kaede, who was looking at him worriedly. She also sensed something was wrong with Shiro, perhaps because of the psychic undertones of her powers.

Mari was about to say something, but she didn't get the chance.

"Attention! Archers!" the familiar command once again filled the surroundings, as Higatsudo and Mizuno finished their preparations.

The fighters sitting and leaning against the parapet hastily stood up, checking their weapons and equipment. The warmasters' eyes became detached for a moment as they assessed their prana reserves and calculated how many techniques they could use before complete depletion.

Right now, most of the enemy army was hidden behind the first line of walls, but that didn't last long.

For the umpteenth time that day, the air was shaken by the vile signals for the start of the assault.

And again, as before, the attackers charged forward with all their might, rushing to overcome the open space. They pressed through breaches or ran up the water-formed steps onto the walls and then down.

The fascines dumped into the water-filled pits sloshed and crunched loudly under dozens and hundreds of feet. If initially, grass covered the slope between the walls, now only slippery, brown mud remained.

Only this time, far fewer techniques flew from the Sumada, as they had only partially restored their prana during the elapsed time.

There were also not as many arrows, as many ashigaru had died in the first assaults.

Stas focused. He thought this moment was the best time to try out one of his experimental techniques.

The learned and tested by Stas ray of destruction, a technique of the supreme Deathbringers, was an excellent solution in this situation.

Ordyntsev would wreak real devastation on the ranks of the enemy.

The problem was that Stas had not been able to do anything about the black color of the technique.

If he used it on the enemy, there was no point in returning to Sumada. Nothing good awaited him there as an accomplice of the Deathbringers.

Nevertheless, Stas's inquiring mind could not reconcile that such a powerful technique would be beyond his combat arsenal.

That's why he came up with something. Which he had been working on diligently of late.

And now it was time to test it.

Creating ether had become so routine that it almost went unnoticed. Much more effort was required for the natural-etheric sphere, but Stas had long since gotten used even to this.

Ordyntsev raised his hands above his head, and an elongated oval began to form between his palms.

It took a whole ten seconds to complete the technique, but at that moment, the Serpent could afford such expenditures.

Quickly surveying the battlefield, Stas spotted the largest concentration of Mizuno.

With a flash, the purple sphere silently tore from its creator's hands to race down like a high-speed bolide.

Stas noted the increased speed since the last tests. The idea to give it that particular shape had proved itself.

The enemy was not idle either. Several water techniques were launched to meet the suspicious egg.

Stas raised an eyebrow. The difference between earth and water techniques was in the water's ability to unite more easily.

Thus, the water whips and a couple of square waves that met in the air did not destroy each other but, as it were, merged, continuing their movement forward.

But the concentrated ether was not so easy to stop.

Like a cannon ball, Stas's projectile pierced one technique after another, leaving in them ragged, torn "wounds," continuing to fly forward.

However, at some point, the impenetrable shell of the technique was breached, and the "present" detonated.

Ordyntsev watched eagerly, holding his breath.

The essence of the new technique was to use the other side of ether. As known, ether was capable of not only absorbing prana but also, with sufficient concentration, breaking down matter.

Of course, breaking down other warmasters couldn't even be dreamed of, as their bodies were filled to the brim with prana, which would "evaporate" the ether upon contact, not allowing it to penetrate even half a centimeter into the skin.

But what if one were to strike not the skin but something far more delicate? Not to kill, but to wound gravely?

The ether "egg," having pierced another water technique, finally burst open precisely in the middle, splitting in two and unleashing a directed and extremely intense flow of dispersed ether downwards - onto the looking-up Mizuno.

The earthling found inspiration in the Black Sun technique, once shown by one of the Deathbringers.

Minoru didn't know how to create it, but Stas, at some point, figured out the principle of action. Yes, he couldn't replicate it "verbatim," but he didn't need to.

As soon as the sphere opened up, the world went dark for the upward-looking Mizuno in the exact second, as the short wave of ether burned their skin, simultaneously destroying the upper layer of their eyeballs, blinding them.

Yes, if they had healers, these wounds could be mended in a matter of seconds. But they didn't have any now.

A terrible scream ran through the ranks of the attackers. Warmasters and samurai fell to their knees, flailing their arms and trying to wipe their bleeding, inflamed eyes. The surviving skin hung in tatters, exposing flesh in places.

But while Stas's technique only blinded those capable of using prana, the fate of ordinary people was much sadder.

The harsh purple light not only burned out their eyes, but it went further, sometimes burning them to the bone, leaving writhing, scorched, and skinless bodies on the ground.

Weapons and armor affected by the technique lost their color, turning an unpleasant black color. The effect could be compared to a flame, but the temperature did not change, and there was no smoke.

And all this endless horror was overseen by Shiro the Serpent, who pondered how to further refine the form of the technique and where and how to position the would-be incision so that the flow of etheric light was even more devastating.

Of course, the enemy's army quickly covered the losses with new forces, but Sumada took full advantage of the opportunity, targeting the blinded enemies and reducing their numbers.

With his one attack, Stas, by his calculations, helped destroy about thirty ordinary and five or six advanced warmasters. And regular fighters weren't even worth counting.

There was no chance to use the new technique a second time as Mizuno and the samurai reached the top of the wall.

Once again, blades met in crushing blows. And opponents spat saliva at each other from bared mouths.

Bulging eyes, crazed cries, and death throes – it all swirled in a sad whirlwind, the apotheosis of human folly.

Jun's students, knowing the plan, were in no hurry to get into the thick of it, acting as support and the second echelon. Kaede, Mari, and Leviathan helped them, picking off particularly zealous opponents with precise strikes.

Above their heads, the barrier flashed all colors, repelling the combined strikes of the Mizuno warmasters.

Since the supreme warmasters were preparing the bunker, they had significantly weakened the resistance to the enemy supremes, leading to the fact that the only thing protecting Sumada and the Rashita forces was the Gaibatsu barrier.

Jumping up, Stas let the energy slashes pass under him, to fire a serpent from his hand, which clamped onto the samurai's outstretched sword.

To the warrior's surprise, the serpent abruptly contracted, tossing Ordyntsev right at a samurai who had unsuccessfully tried to change position.

The Serpent's fist approached the warrior's armor, only to open at the last second, revealing a small sharp spike.

'Earth Push!'

Almost tenderly, Stas directed the sturdiest projectile right between the thick metal plates, precisely where a living heart fluttered.

The samurai stumbled and fell to the ground. From the tiny hole in the armor, hot blood splashed out in spurts.

'Where's the damn signal?!' Stas grumbled for the umpteenth time, lazily letting another strike pass by him, this time - for variety - from an ordinary man. A kick to the back doubled the attacker over in a way nature definitely hadn't intended.

However hard they tried, they were being squeezed tighter with every passing minute.

Deep within, Ordyntsev thought with a chill that the supreme warmasters might simply have decided to sacrifice them all.

And right now, they're already activating the bomb, hidden away in the bunker.

Who knows what he might have thought of next, but that was the moment Commander Jonoro chose to send the signal.

[1] Translator's note: apparently, English doesn't have a specific term for this concept.

Here's a definition from Wikipedia: Rat bane (a "rat wolf," "rat eater," or "rat lion") is a cannibalistic rat specifically trained to hunt other rats. The reality of such creatures' existence is neither confirmed nor refuted by scientific sources, but the concept has become a steadfast urban legend. Ratbane is frequently mentioned in literature and the press as a metaphor.

By "trained," the definition refers to leaving a bunch of rats in a closed space without food, forcing them to kill each other to survive. The last remaining one is believed to have gotten used to feeding on its kin and could be utilized for rat extermination.