If Ordyntsev were ever asked what the science of magic was, he would have trouble answering.
Unlike ordinary material reality, the perception of magic and the raging around energies greatly depends on the user's power level.
Of course, if you take vision, for example, then a person with a significant visual impairment will receive far less information than a person with perfect vision.
But the limit of human vision is finite. Yes, human ingenuity has managed to circumvent the problem partially by inventing various telescopes and microscopes, but they have remained mere crutches to an inherently imperfect tool that is the human body.
In magic, however, everything was different.
While developing control and a better understanding of the workings of mystical energies, the mage themselves became stronger and, let's say, more attentive.
What was once beyond the seeker's reach now opened new doors.
Majestic and terrifying secrets were revealed to those ready to learn them. To those who were not frightened by the unfolded abyss and bravely stepped forward.
It should be understood that, unlike vision, a user of mystical energy felt magic much more deeply than anything else.
Stanislav still didn't fully understand how it worked, but he already knew where the answer might be hidden.
The dependence on emotions when creating the techniques you need - that was the door that led to an even greater understanding of the secrets of the universe.
Well, and if we return to what the science of magic is, Ordyntsev would say that for him it's a river that, once you dive into it, you can't get out.
It will pull you into its waters and carry you away, crashing against all sorts of underwater rocks and rapids.
But even so, you will still be happy, moving forward into the unknown.
Did Stas like complex challenges? No. Rather, he loved what you get after overcoming them.
The feeling that you have managed, that you are better and above anyone else, is sweeter than the sweetest juice, tastier than the best food, and more pleasant than the most passionate sex.
For some, in this life, to reach the highest point of pleasure, they must have control over the lives of millions. This isn't even as impossible as it might seem at first glance. A provincial governor or mayor of a large city on Earth can quite influence the lives of that many people with their decisions.
Others feel significant by having many friends and acquaintances. In such a case, they stop sensing the sucking emptiness of loneliness, which greedily smacks its lips right by their ear.
And the third... O-o-oh, the third get a thrill from the understanding that they are the best or that their names will resound for many centuries after their death.
Stas Ordyntsev was one of the latter, and his arrogance was comparable only to his intelligence.
And for his goal, he was willing to sacrifice much on the altar of success, far more than what would be acceptable to the common folk.
*****
"Greetings," Minoru slowly raised her head to look with sunken eyes at the Serpent who had entered. "How are you feeling?"
"As if you don't know," the lamia finally spoke when the silence became unbearable. She looked frankly miserable.
The yokai had paid dearly for the chance to rid herself of chaos.
Since anti-chaos technology was at a very basic level, the only way to increase efficiency was to repeatedly apply the technique on a test subject and then fix the resulting errors.
And these errors were plenty. Chaos devised dozens of ways to bypass the "cadaver's" strikes, after which it absorbed the technique, trying to escape from the work area.
In the end, when the anti-chaos finally worked properly, didn't consume so much strength and energy, and had high reliability, not much was left of the once proud lamia.
One arm was destroyed up to the shoulder, and the other was missing up to the elbow. The tail also became shorter by a couple of dozen centimeters.
Theoretically, Stas could have spent a couple of days using healing techniques to restore what was lost, but in that case, this help would have been detrimental to his own research.
And, whatever anyone thought, the earthling and the ancient yokai were not friends. At best, they were allies.
For the knowledge that the yokai gave to Stas, he honestly returned her freedom, cured her of chaos, and now was diligently working on the anti-chaos technique for the Serpent King.
But there was no question of any friendship.
Thus, coming to her senses, Minoru had to live for a whole week as a "stump," regenerating the lost body parts naturally.
Such pastime clearly did not benefit her psychological state.
And it would be a lie to say that Stas, entering the room, was even slightly concerned about it.
"What do you want?" she spat out bitterly, looking at the Serpent, who stood calmly near the door. The latter, with a vacant expression on his face, scrutinized her in return.
"Why are you silent? Or do you have nothing better to do than to stare at me?" Minoru snorted nervously, turning away.
"I want you to start hunting for the renegade warmasters in the city's vicinity. We need them for experiments."
"What?!" The lamia spun around, staring at Stas in shock. "Why should I do that at all?"
"Because it will help with my further experiments and healing your precious Serpent King." Frankly, this was more a lie than the truth, but Stas didn't care.
The test subjects he needed were for the immortality technique. On the other hand, if he became immortal, that would also positively affect the success of the Serpent King's healing, right?
"You... Go to hell!" shouted Minoru, jumping up from the futon and menacingly advancing on the unyielding earthling. "You think I haven't given enough?! How much did you cut me up and dissect me, only to throw me away? And now you come again and dare to demand something!"
The ancient yokai nearly choked on her own outrage and indignation.
"Maybe all this is normal for you, but for anyone else, it would be the end! My whole life is one big mistake, and you..." Suddenly, the woman's face twitched convulsively, distorted by emotional pain.
"Although how would someone like you know?" Minoru unexpectedly said, as if cursing.
"What do you mean?" The man's face resembled a statue, so motionless and detached it was.
"Why, don't you get it?" the lamia sang mockingly. "Looked in the mirror recently? What's left of you that's human? You're a monster and a fiend worse than any evil yokai could ever become. You have no mercy, not even a soul. Have you ever asked yourself if you're still human? When I look at you, I simultaneously feel sorry for you and uneasy. I, an ancient yokai, feel uneasy! That should tell you something, don't you think?"
The exhausted yokai fell silent, breathing heavily. Opposite her, the Serpent still stood, looking at her through narrowed eyelids.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"We are similar in that," the lamia froze in confusion. "In my eyes, you also only evoke pity." Minoru flinched noticeably from Ordyntsev's merciless words.
"As for emotions and some 'humanity,'" Ordyntsev said those words as if he was holding a poisonous snake. "I am glad that I don't have them. If the lack of these traits allows me not to look as pathetic as you, then I'm glad that these chains no longer bind me."
Minoru was at a loss for words; the conviction in Shiro's speech was too strong.
"And, regarding your suffering and problems, I want to remind you," the tone of the Serpent imperceptibly changed. "That right now, at this very second, dozens, maybe hundreds of people are losing their homes, watching their loved ones being cut and raped before their eyes. Their children are taken into slavery, and their heads join the mounds erected by the victors. This world suffers, and your own suffering against the general background is nothing. Wake up, Minoru, nobody gives a damn about what's happening in your soul."
Ordyntsev grimaced contemptuously.
"But all this is meaningless talk. The only thing that matters is what you want and can do. At the moment, you can go and catch me test subjects to help heal your Serpent King. Or you can continue your humiliated writhing on the floor like a worm, disregarding your master. After all, he's been rotting for hundreds of years. A couple more years won't make much of a difference. So, what will you choose? Should I look for others to carry out the task?"
It's hard to say what was going on in the lamia's soul when she looked at the petty human who dared to speak to her in such a tone.
Stas assumed she might attack, so the seals embedded by Satoshi in the walls were ready.
But luckily, they were unnecessary.
"No need. I will bring... Captives."
"Glad to hear," Ordyntsev turned sharply and walked away. "We have very little time left. Hurry."
Without saying another word, he left, closing the door behind him and leaving Minoru alone in the dark room.
*****
"Do I understand you correctly," Satoshi slowly repeated. "You want to... Implant the technique into your body?"
"Exactly," Ordyntsev nodded in agreement, deciding to clarify his thought. "Yes, our technique will allow us to roll back the bearer's age to the configured value, but we must vigilantly monitor the schedule of its application, correcting possible errors. I believe the best solution is to make the technique recurring."
"An interesting idea," Takehiro stroked his mustache. "You know, I even like it. Of course, it's insane, but promising, can't deny that."
Minoru, along with Kenta and Mari, had just dragged in the first "volunteers," so the work buzzed in all its glory.
However, pretty soon, the grand plans of the Serpent had to be temporarily abandoned.
First, they had to finalize the simple single-use technique.
And one way or another, there were successes. The captured renegades died in terrible agony, but the project moved forward.
People dissolved, leaving only a skeleton, exploded with streams of mutated flesh, and rotted alive.
Their bodies seemed to rebel against the very essence of the fake immortality.
Human nature itself opposed eternal life.
Nevertheless, the two scientists still continued their experiments, and every day, their successes became more evident.
Little by little, they found the right path.
If initially, everyone on whom the technique was applied died almost immediately, then gradually, the moment of death was delayed further and further. Very soon, Satoshi's basement was full of shackled and weakened warmasters who were slowly dying under the effect of the imperfect technique.
Among them, like angels of death, wandered two figures, carefully monitoring their condition and recording the results.
The curses, groans, and screams of those who could still speak flew into their backs but did not shake their impassive hearts.
Nothing could hide from the curious gaze of serpentine eyes. Any abscess, burst skin, or bedsore was instantly assessed and recorded in the scroll.
There could be no trifles in this important matter.
The previously invented anti-chaos technique gave a big boost to the development of the new direction. As before, it was necessary to combine totally different types of energies, managing to program them for the required order of actions.
But here, Stas made important changes.
He managed to convince Satoshi to focus on reducing the use of natural energy in powering the finalized technique.
He argued that it was too toxic, which imposed a number of risks for the future.
But in reality, Ordyntsev lied.
The reason for his desire to limit the use of natural energy was that he was still harboring plans to leave this world.
And since Earth could be simply devoid of this energy, it meant he would lose his immortality.
On the other hand, prana was produced by his body, so it would remain with him regardless of the world.
That's why Stas took a number of steps in advance to ensure that the finalized technique was only dependent on ether and his own prana.
Of course, access to the ether could also disappear, but at least something could be done about it, unlike natural power.
Day after day, the Serpent and Takehiro struggled to discover that flawless, winning combination of energies that could stabilize its own state.
When they finally succeeded, they began to graft the emotional-psychological sphere onto the resulting blank.
Here, new problems inevitably emerged.
The thoughts and associations of Stas and Satoshi differed in certain aspects, so their variations of the same technique were constantly mismatched, leading to new revisions.
Because of this, Ordyntsev understood very well why there were no large educational institutions or centers for creating techniques in this world.
It's just that coming up with a new technique was an exceptionally personal affair between the creator and their creation.
When other warmasters tried to learn any personal and complex technique, they involuntarily had to adopt its creator's associations and thought patterns.
Otherwise, it either wouldn't work or would work very poorly.
In other words, those who craved someone else's power had to forcibly change their own stream of thoughts to match exactly what the original technique required.
In such conditions, the more people involved in the creation process, the more unstable and chaotic the final result was.
When Ordyntsev finally realized this simple truth, he couldn't help but find it all very ironic.
After all, by using a technique that is not your own, you essentially reject your thoughts, preferring someone else's unconscious.
Nevertheless, neither Satoshi nor Stas gave up, overcoming problem after problem.
They can't work with each other's "emotional baggage"? Then, it's necessary to develop a common one only for the two of them.
For this, they wrote down various words, concepts, and objects, trying to find points of contact with each other. The words and things they thought about in the same way were their choice.
In other circumstances, neither of these extreme individualists would have gone for it, but the thirst for success and such a close goal forced them to discard everything that could stop them.
In the end, the vocabulary was created, and the experimenters threw themselves with new strength into forming the emotional code that would lead them to immortality.
At some point, they both gave up sleep, sensing that the solution was somewhere nearby. And such a risky approach immediately bore fruit.
'Master!' With a force that sent the door flying, Leviathan burst into Stas's laboratory. 'Satoshi-san!'
The emotional impulse from the snake made Ordyntsev drop the important experiment and, smashing everything in his path, rush to Takehiro.
The frightened Ryu who hesitated in the earthling's path got a smack between the eyes and lay down to rest.
Unfortunately, the paranoia of the old master was now playing against them. The house, stuffed with seals, rose against them, erecting one obstacle after another.
Nevertheless, the defense had not yet reached its full strength, so Stas still managed to break into Satoshi's laboratory at the last second.
The old man was found on the floor, clutching with spasmodically twisted fingers at the left side of his chest. His face was grotesquely contorted, with wide eyes fixed upwards in a mad tension.
Around were scattered sheets on which he had been writing something before collapsing.
"Not on my watch!" Stas growled, his anger flaring up in an instant. Unacceptable! They were on the verge of the most important discovery in the history of two worlds, yet death was still trying to throw a wrench in the works!
Rushing to the old man, Stas dropped to his knees and, immediately activating the Healing Palm, began to hastily examine his condition.
Takehiro Satoshi, the great seal master and the headache of other masters of this art, was dead.
One didn't have to be a doctor to recognize the infamous heart attack.
However, Stas was not one to easily admit defeat. Not much time had passed since the death, so the earthling quickly began to mend the heart, removing the cause that stopped the blood flow.
Moreover, obeying the warmaster's desires, the lung muscles swelled sharply, drawing in oxygen, and the failed heart made its first contraction, pushing the blood further through the veins.
Ordyntsev literally forced the body lying before him to live by sheer will, simultaneously patching up all the damage.
And it worked. Satoshi's condition gradually stabilized, and eventually, he regained the ability to live without the efforts of his companion. However, it was still necessary to find out how great the brain damage was due to oxygen starvation.
At some point, the Serpent's mind flashed with the thought of leaving a couple of "secrets" inside the seal master's body, through which he could influence Satoshi if he wanted to.
At least employing primitive blackmail.
But he still gave up on this idea.
Takehiro was too freedom-loving and proud to follow someone else's orders. He would rather blow up the blackmailer and himself with a couple of thousand explosive scrolls than bow down.
"Khe-khe!" Takehiro coughed dryly, coming to his senses and with difficulty opening his eyes. "Oh great Tsukiyomi, I feel terrible..."
Before him appeared the faces of Shiro the Serpent and concerned Leviathan.
"Say thank you to Levi-chan for finding you in time," Ordyntsev remarked neutrally, assessing the old man's condition and gradually calming down. Judging by the indirect signs, the brain was working fine, and no abnormalities in gesticulation and facial muscles were detected. "Otherwise, I might not have made it."
"I'll treat her to a bull, fully roasted and seasoned with the finest spices." Takehiro chuckled, groaning as he tried to get up.
Stas carefully helped him to sit.
Judging by Leviathan's rolled-up eyes and the thread of drool stretching from her mouth, she was already far away.
"Hmm," Takehiro appraised the state of his broken wall and the devastation beyond it. "It seems to me, Shiro-kun, that we should hurry. Otherwise, we risk simply being too late."
"I completely agree," the Serpent's eyes flashed grimly. "I've tried to strengthen your body, but it's only a temporary measure. We really do need to hurry."
Both scientists said nothing about the fact that Ordyntsev had saved Satoshi's life. They were too cynical to not understand that, in the grand scheme of things, it meant little.
Nonetheless, it would be a lie to say that Takehiro Satoshi had forgotten about it.