BO-O-OM!

Several explosions shook the battlefield, hurling the unlucky attackers upward - or rather, what was left of them. Despite the resilience of the warmasters' bodies, the power of the magical explosives was enough to tear them into bloody and charred pieces.

At the exact moment, new clumps of earth were flung into the air, showering the assaulting forces with sod and the body parts of their fallen comrades.

Those who had some part of their body blown off by the explosion but were not killed screamed in agony. The vitality of the warmasters played a cruel joke on them, as they could not even lose consciousness.

Stas noticed how a young warmaster who, although he didn't step on a mine, was thrown away by the blast wave.

Staggering, he rose with difficulty - face was smeared with soot and grime, and vacant gaze surveying the drunkenly swaying world. The lad absentmindedly touched his neck and saw blood on the fingers of his glove. His eardrums had burst under the sudden assault.

As soon as he took a couple of uncertain steps, someone grabbed him by the elbow and began to yell into his wide-open eyes.

"Izao, you son of a dog, snap out of it! Pull yourself together and move forward; the Alliance will start bombardment soon! Get moving, you gutless cur!" the commander of their squad almost forcibly dragged the stunned subordinate into battle.

Surprisingly, the man was even doing him a favor - if Izao somehow survived and did not go on the offensive, he would be declared a coward, and the fate of a renegade would be the best he could expect.

'As expected of Tokitoru. Only they can afford to use expensive seals for mining the approaches,' Stas contemplated. 'The first mines were very well camouflaged to inflict maximum damage, but further on, they clearly put in less effort.'

When the Tokitoru clan's seals were detonated, it wasn't just flames that erupted. Sometimes, sealed water or air techniques were unleashed. The nature of the explosion depended on the elemental mastery of the seal's creator.

But the Sumada were no strangers to battle and knew the adversary they were facing well. If they missed the most camouflaged seals, then the subsequent "gifts" were no surprise to them.

Sensors were sent forward, who, with pinpoint strikes of weak techniques, either neutralized the seals or sunk them deeper into the ground. If that failed, they grew special stakes on the surface, marking the location of the "mines."

Despite all efforts, the Sumada's advance slowed down, which the defenders did not fail to exploit, unleashing a barrage of techniques on the attackers from above.

On that day, Stas saw what the lineages of Raigachi and Rangiku clans were capable of.

The executioners struck first. Their bodies lit up with a reddish glow, bringing them unbearable suffering. In such moments, from the clenched lips of some of the Rangiku, one could hear the moans and groans of perverse pleasure.

The irony of their lineage was that in using it, the Rangiku simultaneously suffered from intense pain and derived pleasure from it.

Needless to say, prolonged use of such a lineage thoroughly warped the human mind, turning the Rangiku into mad sadists and masochists.

Seeing an intensifying reddish light in the distance, Stas squinted, unwilling to miss any part of what was about to unfold.

The earthling had the chance to peruse a few scrolls that indirectly described the abilities of this strange clan. The authors of those lines also made some assumptions about the principles of the Rangiku lineage.

Besides, Stas also made some conclusions of his own.

In essence, all warmasters used prana, infusing it with various emotions and then shaping it with them.

The Rangiku, however, had somehow managed to overcome a certain emotional threshold of imbuing prana. Their lineage generated immense amounts of pain and pleasure, which they then pumped into their prana system.

After that, all they had to do was send the emotion-sparking "gift" toward the enemy.

As if obeying the Serpent's thoughts, tall figures clad in pointed high hats and covered with writhing red lightning finally unleashed the first shots.

Hundreds of red orbs, about a half-meter in diameter, humming menacingly, rushed downward at the advancing Sumada.

Their speed was not beyond the bounds of belief, yet it commanded respect.

Not all warmasters managed to react in time and defend themselves adequately. As soon as the bloody-red techniques reached their target, they instantly lost stability and exploded in streams of crimson lightning, scorching and tearing everything in their path.

These scenes resembled grotesquely enlarged earthly plasma lamps, only without the glass.

The danger of the Rangiku lay not in a single volley of attacking techniques.

Amplifying emotions within themselves, the executioners imbued with them not only their current prana but also the prana system itself. This meant that all subsequent techniques also carried this destructive feature.

Although in such a state they could not perform complex techniques, they compensated with a furious speed of creation.

As the first bursts from the energy "balls" began to dissipate, a new batch was already on its way. Gradually, the synchronicity of the volleys disappeared, but the stream of shots did not weaken.

Now, the advancing Sumada needed to watch not only what was under their feet, dying from the explosions of undetected mines, but also to defend and maneuver under the relentless shooting.

The humming orbs flew in an endless stream from above, covering the ground with ugly craters and a web of lightning scars.

Seal explosions, the ceaseless crack of crimson lightning bolts, and the possibility of dying at any moment - Stas was more than happy to give up all of that.

Fame was fine, but Ordyntsev never sought to gain it by perishing in such an attack.

Someone with little grasp of the might of a great clan might think that with this sorrowful moment, the offensive had met its end.

Only they would be sorely mistaken.

Because the Sumada had their own trump cards.

In a dozen places, the earth began to stir, then chunks of black soil shot toward the Alliance fortifications.

It seemed that their low speed and looseness posed little danger, but the cunning earth-wielders did not just grab chunks of earth; they grabbed those that contained explosive seals.

The defenders, not immediately recognizing the danger and not trying to knock down these "harmless earth clumps," suddenly felt the brunt of their own explosions.

In addition, the Sumada didn't hesitate to bury themselves in the soil using the Earth Gliding technique or to raise entire rocks in the path of enemy projectiles, which shattered the endless streams of red lightning.

However, if the Rangiku and Tokitoru had already demonstrated their power, it was now the Raigachi's turn.

Surprisingly, Stas had long since learned about this clan. The reason for such interest was simple. Wishing to somehow justify his modified ether techniques, Ordyntsev was looking for those clans whose lineage was also capable of siphoning prana.

And the Raigachi were one of those.

Techniques resembling water projectiles ripped from the hands of the warriors of this clan and, upon hitting the ground, released streams of bluish liquid. The latter then began to rapidly evaporate, creating an area of negative prana around the "puddles."

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The Raigachi's lineage itself posed no danger. After draining energy, the blue liquid did not affect the bodies of the warmasters.

However, this clan used their lineage in conjunction with elemental techniques, preferring attrition warfare and ambush tactics.

Now, when they worked together with full-fledged fighters, their support role proved incredibly effective.

Meanwhile, the attacking Sumada finally reached the point where they were able not only to defend but to attack.

The earth fortifications of the Alliance began to undulate in dozens of places, cracking and collapsing.

The tree trunks used for reinforcement snapped and exploded when entire sections shifted from their places.

The careless Alliance soldiers, who were only accustomed to attacking, screamed in agony as they were impaled on earth spikes and pikes.

At that very moment, the Sumada forces, hidden beneath the earth until then, burst forth onto the surface, striking the defenders in the back.

Of course, some of these groups were intercepted thanks to enemy sensors, but others managed to hide successfully and fully realize the element of surprise.

Upon noticing the confusion arising within the enemy's ranks, the assailants were inspired and quickened their advance, striving to overcome the fire zone as quickly as possible.

And although the Sumada warmasters who struck the Alliance's defense from behind were dying by the dozens, their lives bought the precious seconds needed.

In a moment, the main forces of the Sumada clashed with the equally ferocious warmasters of the Alliance on the leaning slabs of fortifications.

Wrapped in crimson glow, the Rangiku used their explosive prana to accelerate their movements and strikes, virtually dissolving in the air. Their contorted faces glowed with ecstasy and agony. They didn't even feel the wounds they received, fighting as if their lives meant nothing.

The Tokitoru were no less formidable. Around them, sturdy barriers continuously formed, which had to be broken to avoid being trapped with ready-to-explode seals.

If someone failed to do so, after the detonation in the enclosed space, all that remained of those warmasters' bodies was a soft paste.

The only ones who felt uncomfortable in this meat grinder were the Raigachi. They tried to retreat, but the Sumada were not about to give them that chance.

Watching the unfolding horror calmly, with narrowed eyes, was Stas Ordyntsev. The remnants of the particularly strong techniques' explosive waves made his hair sway slightly, and his narrow tongue flickered out, tasting the air.

Surrounding warmasters glanced nervously at him, wondering why he had not yet given the order and what he was waiting for.

However, Stas saw no point in sending his fighters into that mess. He doubted that many could be extracted from that tangle of explosions and flying techniques.

The most Ordyntsev allowed was to collect those injured in the minefield.

However, entering the fray right now he considered premature.

The only chance to survive that hell was perpetual motion with a full understanding of one's instincts. Trying to pull out the wounded was a little better than outright suicide.

And then the situation unfolded just as Ordyntsev had anticipated.

Unable to withstand such an intense concentration of superhumans, the solid front of warmasters began to rapidly expand in all directions, moving both forward and backward towards the minefield.

Considering the maneuverability and power of the warmasters' techniques, they needed tactical space for a full-fledged battle.

"Attention!" Stas bellowed, channeling prana into his lungs and throat, amplifying the volume of his voice. "Orderlies, forward! Healers, get ready to receive new patients! Guards, to your positions! Let's show everyone what it means to be Sumada healers!"

"Yes!" The unified response thundered through the air like a cannon shot.

Following a pre-arranged plan, chains of orderlies rushed towards the raging battle. Each tried to keep a distance from the others so they couldn't be taken out with a single technique and to draw less attention.

At the moment, besides Stas's hospital, there were two more, to the right and left, but they were run by Michiro and one of his deputies. Ordyntsev himself could also be considered such a deputy, even though they both understood that this was only in name.

Being close to the prince and his foreignness placed Stas outside the command chain of the Sumada clan. This had its advantages and disadvantages.

For example, if something happened to the current clan head, Shiro the Serpent would find himself in deep trouble. On the other hand, as long as the head was alive, numerous opportunities opened up for the earthling.

Stas himself and his personal guard carefully watched the approaches to the hospital, ready to thwart any attack attempt.

A massive red light explosion on the left flank indicated that some of the supremes had finally clashed there. It no longer mattered who had taken the first step, but the battle escalated to a new level.

Watching the endless churning of the earth, Stas suspected the handiwork of his sensei. The style was all too familiar.

And judging by how all sides of the conflict were hastily retreating from there, the supremes were not holding back in exchanging blows.

A bit later, a whole cascade of stone spikes shooting out of the ground shattered against an almost visible barrier of a supreme Tokitoru.

Huge craters in the ground, colossal seal explosions, thick lightning bolts that scorched through meters of soil - the supremes' techniques stood out even against the backdrop of the multicolored battle of warmasters.

At the same time, each of these monsters of this world aimed exclusively at others like them - supremes. But the trouble was that the scope and power of the techniques of this caliber were such that they still inadvertently affected the raging "small fry" around them.

More and more supremes engaged in battles with each other. As a result, much weaker warmasters had to clear space for them, moving further to the sides.

This complicated control over the battle and the delivery of orders from commanders.

Yet something could still be done.

"The command has used the reserve," reported Kenta, observing how what could be the last possible line of defense was being committed to the battle. "Now we are on our own."

"What matters is that we are prepared for this," Stas shrugged, watching as the orderlies brought in the first large group of wounded.

There could be no talk of stretchers. The ground had been so disfigured by techniques that an ordinary person simply could not have walked there. The difference in soil levels sometimes reached several meters.

Because of this, orderlies had to carry the wounded in their arms or over their shoulders. But the problem was that while carrying a patient in arms was safer, it deprived the orderly of the ability to defend themselves.

Nevertheless, even so, the first wounded had already reached the healers and now lay on specially created stone pedestals covered with thick fabric.

The wounded warmasters looked terrible. Most were burned by Rangiku lightning or scorched by Tokitoru seals. There were also wounds from swords, naginatas, daggers, and spears.

And with every second, the flow of patients kept increasing.

One way or another, Ordyntsev finished observing and nodded to Kenta. Now, this supreme would be in charge of defending the hospital. The rest of the fighters were also under his command. Ordyntsev trusted the former Rinako; he had impressive experience in many combat encounters and even small wars.

Stas himself went off to treat the most severe cases.

Inside the hospital, work was already in full swing. Involuntarily, the Serpent's attention was drawn to Kizashi. With quick and precise movements, the young alchemist was measuring or mixing one potion or concoction after another, handing them out to the healers who needed them so they wouldn't be distracted from healing.

"Master Shiro," Izamu, one of the senior healers appointed by Stas, popped up in front of him. "Please come this way; we've prepared several of the most critical cases for you."

And Izamu wasn't lying.

Those who were left to Stas's care no longer resembled humans, looking more like well-cooked pieces of chopped-up meat.

"Master Shiro, I recommend starting with this man," Izamu whispered to the Serpent, pointing to one of the bodies. "The orderly said this was one of the supremes. He miraculously managed to get him out while the supreme Rangiku was distracted by another enemy."

"Which family is he from?" Stas asked quietly, approaching the indicated body.

"The Irno family, master," the eager healer replied.

"Good family," Stas nodded approvingly, looking kindly at the pleased Izamu. There was no need to mention which family he was from himself. "Well done. Who are the others?"

"This one is from the Eiko family, this one again from Irno, and this one is from the Jero family. Who should I bring first?"

Stas looked carefully at the cunning healer, who was eager to ingratiate himself. He obviously understood clan politics and knew who Stas would prefer to heal first. While the Irno and Eiko families treated Ordyntsev with respect and were not averse to working with him, the Jero and Oro families thought differently.

'Well, such initiative should be rewarded.'

"You know who to bring first," Stas said meaningfully, mobilizing prana and preparing a complex technique. "I'm sure a promising healer like you, Izamu, won't let me down."

"Of course, Shiro-sama!" the careerist readily agreed. "By the way, while we have time, I want to say that I have always admired your achievements. It is a true honor to work with you side by side!"

"Glad to hear it, Izamu-kun," the serpentine eyes flashed approvingly. "But less talk, more action. The wounded won't heal themselves."

"As you command, Mast..." Izamu's voice slowly faded as he watched, eyes wide, as the green glow released from Stas's hands enveloped the charred body lying before him.

Considering the amount of prana required even for a slight glow, the onlookers considered Ordyntsev's actions extraordinary.

Such an expenditure of energy was more befitting to a supreme, not an advanced warmaster.

How were they to know that the earthling was brazenly using the surrounding natural prana and ether to replenish his reserves?

The crust covering the body began to crack in dozens of places, releasing blood and serum, only to almost immediately fall off, revealing, albeit unhealthy, but real skin.

Broken bones snapped back into place, obeying the prana pushing them.

Deeply embedded shards of metal, bone, or stone were slurped outwards, and the wounds they left closed immediately after.

Stas moved one hand first to the patient's chest, then to his throat, and with that, a stream of mucus and blood burst forth, splattering at the base of the "bed."

In the same instant, the supreme warmaster's breathing stabilized, and he took a deep breath.

By the way, Izamu wasn't the only one frozen. The healers closest to the Serpent's "bed" were also motionless, watching in fascination the incredible frenzy of healing energy.

For those who had spent their entire lives honing such an art, witnessing something so grand was comparable to a festivity, yielding pure pleasure.

Finally, the glow slowly faded, leaving behind a nearly healed supreme on the table. Yes, Stas hadn't wholly mended all his injuries, but even now, if he were brought around, he could fight.

"Bring in the next one," the stern gaze of the serpentine eyes snapped those around him back to their duties. "And someone, bring him to his senses and explain the situation. The Kami see, we'll soon need everyone who can wield a weapon."

"Yes, Master Serpent!"