"I think visiting you every other day won't look suspicious," Stas nodded after two exhausting hours of discussions and debates.

The problem was that with this cunning old man, one had to watch almost every word, as he had no qualms about leading his younger interlocutor into verbal traps.

And Stas had fully experienced his grip firsthand.

"This time will be enough to maintain the legend about your treatment, and also allow me to practice what you will give me on my day off."

"I'm still inclined to insist, Shiro-kun, that you share with me the secret of your rejuvenation technique," Satoshi gently chided Stas. "Just think about it, if two geniuses like us start working simultaneously, we'll finish twice as fast! Isn't that the most obvious and reliable plan?"

"I bow to your wisdom, Takehiro-san," Ordyntsev nodded just as graciously, pouring himself another cup of tea. "Only, what's to stop you, once successful, from deciding not to share your findings with your humble colleague? After all, you are an honored and world-renowned master, and I am merely a modest traveler wishing to drink from the waterfall of your wisdom."

"Your mistrust wounds me to the core," the old man's words made Stas stare attentively into his eyes. For a moment, he thought the rune master managed to conjure up some genuine tears. "We made a deal, Shiro-kun. And who would I be if I broke it? Believe me, my old heart couldn't bear such disgrace."

Satoshi paused, and Ordyntsev suppressed a heavy sigh. It soon became clear that the rune master loved to argue and weave verbal laces, and although Stas himself could be considered a skilled fighter on such a front, he had to reluctantly admit that the old man outmatched him.

The shamelessness and cynicism of this ancient fossil could rival the worst representatives of Earth's political elite. And that was saying something.

Is it any wonder that the man had entertained doubts about the necessity of their cooperation about ten times already?

Going into this meeting, Stas had gathered some information about Satoshi, but now these facts took on new facets.

Takehiro Satoshi was a damn problem that the locals had been putting up with for over eighty years.

With a cunning and deceitful character, Satoshi was a brilliant scientist and inventor. And although he hated sharing his developments, he nonetheless did so consistently.

Stas suspected that, in this way, he was buying off everyone who wanted to impale his gray head on a stake and put it on public display.

The tensions subsided a bit when, ten years ago, Satoshi decided to retire. But the community of rune masters celebrated too soon. Takehiro continued to travel the countries, getting under many people's skin and fraying nerves.

It was frightening even to imagine what would happen if this rotten old man gained a second youth. And utterly terrifying if he could live forever.

Yet, as much as Stas felt that cooperating with him was a mistake, he couldn't deny that in terms of the knowledge he needed, Takehiro was an invaluable source of information.

"Moreover," the old man continued, furrowing his rare brows. "It pains me to express such distrust, but how can I be assured that you, Shiro-kun, won't do the same? What if, in the joy of eternal youth, you forget this weak and sick old man?"

"We've already discussed this," a twitch crossed Stas's face, and Satoshi's grew more pleased. "We are both the sole keepers of the knowledge of eternal life. Any transfer of the technique to anyone other than the two of us is strictly forbidden. If one of us wishes to reconsider the agreement, it can only be done with the consent of all owners of the technique, that is, you and me."

Ordyntsev leaned back.

"That is the best protection of our deal. We don't want ordinary, mortal people to learn our secret, do we? It would breed envy and anger. They would hunt the keeper of the secret. And, goodness forbid, the knowledge might truly spread. Why would we want a world full of immortal mediocrities?"

"I wholeheartedly agree," the old man laughed. "But I see you're not to be swayed. Fine. I like how this sounds. The Immortal Alliance, what do you think?"

"I don't think it's worth giving it a name. After all, if there's no name, there's nothing to search for, is there?"

"Alright, Shiro-kun, have it your way. Come by tomorrow, and I'll have dug up my old notes on natural energy."

The old man even escorted Stas to the door and smiled after him as Ordyntsev walked away.

Despite the many people bustling in the street and the Sumada warmasters quartered nearby, Stas felt an almost irresistible urge to activate prana acceleration.

At that moment, both potential immortals promised themselves to think hard about how to kill the other. Yes, they couldn't do it directly, as the secret could be exposed, but they would surely consider less obvious ways.

*****

It was not long before Ordyntsev came to realize that Takehiro Satoshi deserved to be taken more seriously than just another overly smart native.

In his overly long life, the old man seemed to have touched everything this world had to offer. His knowledge of each type of energy was so extensive that the earthling suspected he might also possess ether.

And his knowledge of natural energy was beyond doubt. Especially impressive were his research methods.

As it turned out, for many generations, Satoshi forced young warmasters to touch natural energy, acting as "manipulators."

These "manipulators" died off from time to time, but Takehiro was adept at finding new ones.

Often, he even operated officially. Some of the smaller clans were willing to sell their own children for the artifacts produced by the genius master.

His apprentices were precisely such children whom Satoshi raised from a young age, instilling fear and loyalty to himself along the way.

And those who were now here were far from his only disciples. Many from past generations of students had long since separated and were recognized masters. And although they hated their teacher fiercely, their fear of him was much stronger.

But back to the old man's knowledge. All of it was generously spattered with the blood and tears of others.

And evidently, Takehiro thought that Shiro the Serpent had achieved his successes in a similar way.

This paradoxically made him take Ordyntsev much more seriously and cut down on his jokes.

Nonetheless, Stas could not only engage in the study of new knowledge.

"Master, you have visitors," Mari announced as she descended the stairs, bowing deeply.

"Are they together?"

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

"No, separately."

"Then let them into the common hall one at a time, every ten minutes. I'll go up there shortly. And yes, prepare some tea."

"I'll take care of everything," Mari bowed, retreating quickly. Meanwhile, Stas, after cleansing himself of natural energy, proceeded to wash the blood from his hands and change into clean clothes.

The first guest turned out to be Yoshito Sumada, the advanced warmaster whom Stas had healed of lung injuries and other minor wounds.

"Shiro-san!" The man's cheerful smile matched the impressive bundle in his hands. "I'm so glad you survived too. I've been through many a fray, but the likes of what happened in Gaibatsu, I've never seen before."

"I'm also glad to see you, Yoshito-san," Stas nodded politely, indicating the table with two steaming cups of tea. "Please, have a seat. What brings you to me?"

"You wound me," Yoshito almost jumped onto the cushion and, without any trace of modesty, began to slurp his tea loudly. Many established warmasters had a peculiar attitude toward etiquette. They knew it but often, for various reasons, could ignore it.

Yoshito was at the upper end of the advanced rank, so Stas didn't bat an eye.

"I told you I would pay you back, didn't I? And everyone could confirm that Yoshito always keeps his word. This is for you," he patted the bundle. "Oh, wait a moment."

Fumbling, the man began to untie the numerous knotted ropes, sometimes even using his teeth.

After a couple of minutes, a red lamellar cuirass landed on the table. Each plate delighted the eye with a chain of skillfully forged characters. And these were not just simple symbols, but quality work by rune masters.

The plates were attached to each other with sturdy, multicolored cords. And the edging of the cuirass plates had especially thick embroidery.

In the last battle, Stas had several opportunities to appreciate the usefulness of such armor. Since the plates were separated from each other, destroying part of the armor almost did not affect its overall functionality.

Yoshito then pulled out a hefty mustached helmet from the bundle. The mask was attached separately, so Ordyntsev was able to look inside and find familiar symbols.

Although Satoshi was reluctant, Stas still managed to glean the top knowledge about rune seals from him. Or rather, the old man simply explained to the earthling how to determine the purpose of the most common seals used by rune masters.

Nevertheless, these were also useful pieces of knowledge.

And if Stanislav's memory served him right, when prana was applied to the helmet, it began to function like a closed-type spacesuit. In other words, one seal released fresh air, while another absorbed the spent carbon dioxide.

Ordyntsev shook his head. It was hard to imagine how useful this helmet would have been to him during the war with the Sansa.

Needless to say, such armor sets were considered to be very expensive and elite.

And Yoshito, sticking out his tongue, continued to fiddle with the bundle, pulling out shoulder guards, an armored skirt, and protection for the legs and arms.

"Yoshito-san," Stas caught his attention. "My knowledge is enough to understand that this armor was made for a samurai. Rune masters almost never sell such things to warmasters. I can't help but ask, how did it come into your possession?"

"Ah, don't worry about that," Yoshito waved off Stas's concerns. "Yes, it indeed belonged to a samurai recently, but I won it fair and square in a dice game. There are many witnesses to that. He was too much of a gambler."

"This won't cause problems with the samurai or the armor owner?" Stas frowned.

"Don't worry," Yoshito smirked carelessly. "The former owner, as soon as he gave it to me, immediately committed seppuku, gutting himself. The fool couldn't bear the shame, unable to win back."

Ordyntsev looked at the armor lying before him in a different light, given the new facts.

"As for the other samurai, give them no thought. Any grievances they might hold, if at all, would be directed solely at me. All you need to do is change your colors and remove the clan symbols. That will suffice."

"Thank you for such an expensive gift," Ordyntsev nodded earnestly, symbolically pulling the set towards himself.

Was he bothered by any doubts or the moral side of the issue?

Absolutely not. For such a set of armor, Stas was ready to kill, and it was good that someone else had done the job for him.

"Don't mention it," Yoshito slapped his knees, standing up. "Well, alright. If you have any business with me, feel free to contact me. I'll be glad to discuss it with you. Now I'll be going."

"By all means." Stas politely showed Yoshito to the door.

The next guest turned out to be the familiar warmaster who had lost her beauty. Now, her face was covered with a dark mask, vaguely depicting some animal, and her head was covered with a hood.

Stas mentally grimaced. Quite a bit of time had passed. And healing such complex and delicate injuries was not so simple. He was not sure that the efforts he could spend on her would ever pay off.

However, he would listen to her in any case.

"Shiro-sama," the woman bowed deeply. She spoke a bit unclearly, but it was evident that the healers had managed to restore her tongue to some extent. "Please spare me a little of your time. I'll try not to distract you too much."

"Of course, of course, come in, Ayami-san. Mari..." Stas cut himself off. He doubted his guest would want to remove her mask for a cup of tea. "No, no, nothing." He sent Mari back behind the door.

"So, what brings you to me?" he finally asked after a brief silence when it became clear the woman was hesitant to start.

"I wanted to express my sincere gratitude for saving me," she finally spoke, bowing her head low. "If it weren't for you, my and my student's lives would have ended during the assault on Gaibatsu."

She gathered her thoughts, nervously adjusting the surviving lock of hair on the left side of her head.

"I want you to know that if you have any request or assignment, I will fulfill it. I am in an unpayable debt to you. That's all I wanted to say." She began to rise hastily.

"Wait," Stas also stood up, making a decision. "I understand this is a difficult topic for you. But something can still be done about your face. Of course, the process will be lengthy, and it likely won't return to its original state, but..."

"No need, Shiro-sama," Ayami's tone made Ordyntsev stop. "My... My disfigurement is my memory of my dead students whom I couldn't save. My words about helping you stand. As for my face..." She took a ragged breath and then laughed hoarsely. "There's good news, too. Now, I can be much less afraid of being captured. We, warmaster women, always face this evil fate."

Without saying another word, she left the room, leaving Stas to ponder what had happened.

He hadn't decided whether it was a feature of the local mentality or a particularly vivid female folly. In any case, he had received his promise of a potential favor. And he hadn't signed up to be a psychoanalyst for warmasters going mad.

*****

"Rejoice," Jun handed Stas a scroll. "Your contribution to the defense of Gaibatsu has been recognized at the very top."

Stas read the document handed to him over the dining table carefully. A tavern maid passed by, but he paid her no mind.

The scroll, bearing the official Sumada seal, stated that for successful actions in defending the fortress and destroying the enemy on a large scale, Stas's monthly salary had been increased, and he had been awarded a substantial bonus. The latter equaled the payments that went to veteran advanced warmasters.

And this, in turn, signaled to all interested parties who Stas was now considered to be. In some ways, it was a semi-official recognition of his new status.

Since most warmasters had stopped carrying out missions and lost their source of income, the Sumada took over their salaries, awards, and bonuses.

'Well, now I'm a veteran. All I had to do was survive where it was impossible to survive. Scary to think what you have to go through to be considered a supreme.'

"How proud I am of you!" Jun was literally bursting with good feelings. A wide smile spread across his rugged face. "Hey, innkeeper, your most expensive booze. We're going to celebrate the birth of a new veteran here!"

"Right away, master," the accommodating innkeeper bowed, hurrying off somewhere.

"Ah, it seems like only yesterday I was teaching you all how to hold a sword properly. In your case, a spear. And now one of you is almost a supreme warmaster. I call dibs on sparring when you become supreme. Or maybe we can loosen up our bones now?"

"What are you saying, sensei," Stas quickly caught on. "What supreme, honestly? I'm just a regular advanced level, and it would be unseemly for you to compete with someone like me. What would people think?"

"That's for me to decide, whether it's unseemly or not," Jun smirked. "And I've always spat on people's opinions. But you can relax your butt, I'll wait until you grow up a bit more before I kick all the crap out of you."

"Thank you, sensei." Stas expressed his gratitude sincerely.

"Don't mention it," Jun generously replied. "But there's one more important detail. Considering your strength and that of your companions, I see no reason to move together."

Stas looked at his teacher, puzzled.

"Ah, forgot to tell you. Anyway, neither we nor Higatsudo dare to give a big fight. Samurai armies are loitering on no-man's land and occasionally testing each other. Most skirmishes involving warmasters happen between small detachments that roam freely here and there, making life difficult for the samurai. Me and all of you were sent there, too."

"But you suggest we split up." Stas nodded in understanding.

'Usual warmaster tactics. We're terrible team players, but as eliminators and saboteurs, warmasters are ideal. Incredible mobility, monstrous firepower, numerous and diverse abilities, and superior individual training. Using warmasters in any other way is a real war crime.'

"Exactly. But I'm interested in your opinion. Your trio is quite capable of acting independently. And Mei and Eiji will come with me; otherwise, they'll die for nothing."

"Hmm, I like this idea," Stas agreed.

"Then I'll submit a request to give you a commander's rank. You already have your first subordinates. And then you'll figure it out. Maybe you'll recruit some more. Hey, how much longer are we going to wait for your booze, innkeeper? My throat's already parched!"

"Bringing it, bringing it." The rushing maid carefully placed a tray with bottles and cups.

"Well then, to enjoying life, whatever it may be!" Jun raised his cup of sake.

"Kampai!"