Despite the warmasters being a relatively small caste, they had a surprisingly large number of relatives.

Perhaps this was also because prana users were not shy about having several official mistresses in addition to a legitimate wife.

The children of these women, while they could not rise to the very top, were not considered the "dregs of society" either. Thanks to this approach, the warmasters could quite quickly replenish their numbers after endless wars, aside from, of course, stealing children from villages.

But this advantage had now turned into a significant disadvantage when it came to transporting a massive number of people almost across the entire continent, exhausting themselves in the process.

In this regard, Ordyntsev was very grateful that this world was relatively compact.

Besides, one should not be naive. The servants of the warmasters and their families also did not wish to lie down and die, so the caravan expanded even further.

Seeing this, the others prepared to leave as well. Thus, when the "great migration" finally began, the remaining half of the city declared their intention to leave along with the warmasters.

Obviously, the leadership of Mizuno did not appreciate the idea and threatened to drown anyone who dared to obstruct their movement.

Given the reputation of warmasters, they were believed immediately and without question. But this did not stop the refugees from following at a distance.

While the Mizuno caravan was well-protected, the ordinary people could not boast the same.

Seeing this, the roaming creatures of chaos immediately pounced on the easy prey, sowing death and discord. If not for various ronin and impoverished samurai, their journey would have ended very quickly.

They merely kept paying a bloody price to advance a few more kilometers.

But even under such dire conditions, their numbers did not decrease; on the contrary, they grew rapidly. Residents of nearby towns, hearing the news, rushed to join the crowd, hoping for safety.

How mistaken they were.

In Ordyntsev's eyes, they appeared as an enormous sack of meat, which, as it moved forward, allowed predators to bite off piece by piece to preserve the central core.

And although this strategy was working for now, nobody wanted to be that "piece" that was ruthlessly sacrificed.

The warmasters conspicuously did not intervene, protecting only their kin. Moreover, one should not think that they had no problems of their own.

After a while, several clans of onmyoji joined their caravan. The spirit enchanters themselves sent messages to their families about preparing to move, and when the camp reached the necessary point, they joined the dense ranks of refugees.

But it turned out that not only the onmyoji had those they wanted to protect.

Although yokai mostly were born as adults, there were those among them who grew in power all their lives. These were not children in the usual sense of the word, but yokai referred to them exactly as such. Additionally, some yokai possessed no combat specialization due to being born from some harmless emotions.

Such groups usually tried to settle far from humans, in some dense thicket. But not even the thickest forests could protect them from chaos.

Communication between such diverse intelligent beings with very different worldviews in a medieval setting was a recipe for disaster.

And thus, they walked through the green fields, sprawling meadows, and beautiful forests, which had not long to live. For chaos was seeping into this world in a steady stream, accumulating in it like pus in an inflamed wound.

Yes, this planet fought against the corrupting influence of impermanence, but it could do nothing when it had a "knife" stuck in its side, from which blood pulsated out.

A race against time, in which the inhabitants of this world were desperately losing.

*****

The peaks of the valley had been flickering somewhere on the horizon for a long time until they abruptly closed in. A few hours later, the travelers could admire the majestic spire of the Sumada Citadel rising upward.

A joyful buzz swept through the ranks of the Mizuno. The road here had taken a lot of time and effort.

"Finally, we've crawled our way here," Jun loudly exclaimed, causing the surrounding people to look at him irritably, yet none of the Mizuno said anything. Over the past weeks, they had gotten to know the character of Stas's sensei well. "I thought I'd die of boredom! I told you, Shiro, let's ditch these Mizuno and get to ours in a blink."

"Be careful with your words, Jun," Aoi, who had approached, gave him a stern look. "Or they might be considered as treason."

"Since when does refusing to care for the Mizuno equal treason for a Sumada?" Jun snorted mockingly and was about to say something else when Stas hurriedly joined the conversation.

"Sensei," Ordyntsev looked at him disapprovingly. "We're allies. Please don't say such things. Let's not create unnecessary problems for Katashi and Jishin. They already have it hard enough."

"How I hate all this," Jun spat, heading away. "It used to be simple. See a Mizuno - beat him up. And now, damn it, you can't even send them to hell. Truly, the end times are upon us, which means I need a drink. I refuse to take in all this nonsense sober."

"Please forgive my sensei," Stas diplomatically turned to the uncle of the Mizuno clan head, who continued to glare at Jun's back. "He didn't mean what he sa…"

"Don't think me a fool, Sumada," Aoi snorted bitterly, and to Stas's surprise, smiled. "I know well what kind of person Jun is. If he says something, he means exactly that. He's a mad dog who doesn't know where he'll run next. To be offended by him is as good as being offended by oneself."

"Um, okay," Stas merely nodded, not knowing what else to say to such an odd acquiescence. "But since your relatives have safely arrived, I'll leave you. I still need to check on my people and report to Jishin."

"Understood," Aoi nodded, turning away and, as if in thought, casually mentioned. "If you have time, drop by Katashi. He seems to value your company."

Without saying another word, Aoi hurried away. As for Stas, he smiled. He didn't mention that Aoi himself had been at those "friendly meetings," and if he didn't want this interaction, he wouldn't have brought it up at all.

Nonetheless, Ordyntsev didn't allow himself to dwell on such a triviality for long. Turning around, he decisively walked in the direction where he felt Leviathan's presence the strongest.

And judging by the joy that flashed through their link, the snake felt him as well. However, she did not rush to meet him, continuing to carry out her order to guard Kizashi. Realizing this filled Stas with pride. His little Levi had grown up.

The guard at the Citadel gates checked him for chaos as usual, although by the looks of the fighters, Stas saw that they recognized him. In their eyes, one could easily see relief.

For these people, every returning supreme warmaster was a hope that they would survive "tomorrow."

However, the closer he got to Leviathan, climbing up hundreds of different stairs, the more palpable grew his sense that something was not right.

Something suspicious was happening in the snake's emotional state, which made Stas tense up more and more.

That's why, by the time he reached Kizashi's residence, he was already noticeably on edge.

And looking into the faces of those who met him, he couldn't help but feel something protestingly tighten in his chest.

'Levi, Kaede, Kizashi, and Kenta. But where's Mari? What happened?' Stas still asked himself these questions in his head, but looking at Kenta's blank face, he already knew the answer.

Books and movies have conditioned us to believe that when someone dies, the cause must be something significant. Something that's impossible to miss or forget. And supreme warmasters, in general, justify these illusions.

People who have reached such an astounding level of power do not die from a mere accident. Had they lived on Earth, ordinary dangers would be no threat to them. Gas explosion? The fortitude of the body instinctively infused with prana would be enough. Shot by a robber? Unless the bullet hit the eye, the skin and muscles would hold. Mentioning a knife stab is just ludicrous.

But Mari, despite all her talent, had never reached that level. She was an advanced, perhaps even a veteran advanced, but not a supreme.

The fatal technique thrown by a supreme Hizoru was aimed at destroying the wounded, not someone specific.

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But it was Mari who happened to be hit by it, helping, like everyone else, in transporting and protecting the partients. Kizashi, Kenta, and Leviathan were elsewhere, so they did not even see what happened.

But they saw the consequences all too well. The plasma ball scorched everything, leaving almost nothing organic behind. And in those remains of bones and ash, it was hard to tell who and what belonged to whom, as Mari was not the only one who perished.

Listening to Kenta's quiet story, Stas remembered how they met, how he trained her, nurturing plans to grow his own group of loyal people. And how he realized that such an idea was doomed to fail. In this world, supremes ruled, and raising a supreme was virtually impossible, as heredity played a huge role.

If your blood was thin and your prana channels fragile, no matter how smart you were, you couldn't jump above a certain threshold.

Mari had everything to become a supreme. But fate decreed otherwise.

Looking at Leviathan's bowed head, Kenta's dead face, and Kaede wiping away tears, Stas felt only shame.

Because he... did not feel what he was supposed to feel.

His mind had already assessed the loss, and there was sadness in his heart. But Ordyntsev understood well that this "sadness" was at best akin to the loss of a beloved animal, but certainly not a person.

And subconsciously, the earthling hoped that the reason lay in the cursed rotting-alive Great Serpent, who mercilessly changed him.

But the cold mind sarcastically answered: 'No, you are exactly as you were. An egotist who always didn't care about anyone but himself.'

That's why Stas could not force himself to feign a display of grief before the others.

His acting talent would have sufficed, but he could not bring himself to do so. One could say it was the last tribute to the now-deceased Mari.

Still, that icy mask that had replaced his face long ago was taken as a display of the needed emotions.

However, Stas still had to do something.

"Kenta, what do you plan to do now?" Ordyntsev looked intently at the detached Rinako.

"Don't worry, Shiro-san," the man said calmly. "I won't do anything foolish. In my life, I've seen not only my enemies die but also my friends. Though it's the first time I'll be burying my daughter."

"Then pull yourself together and get ready. We shall yet show chaos why it shouldn't have come here."

"Exactly." With a stiff gait, Kenta left the room, carefully closing the door. Kaede sobbed, then hugged the motionless Leviathan.

Despite their eternal rivalry, the death of a competitor was a real shock to the yokai. Or perhaps it was also due to the betrayal of her mentor? So many deaths, defeats, and losses proved too much for the young Kuchisake-onna.

Stas's gaze shifted to Kizashi, who was aimlessly grinding some powder in a small mortar.

The alchemist's words made Stas freeze for a moment before cautiously sitting nearby.

"My grandfather also died," he sighed sadly. "But at least I managed to take his body with me. I was lucky in that, unlike many."

"How did it happen?" Stas asked cautiously.

"He gave his all to healing," Kizashi's voice slipped with anger. "He treated the wounded until the end. There were so many that there weren't enough healers, so grandfather worked non-stop. His heart just... couldn't take it."

Ordyntsev closed his eyes.

"They tell me my grandfather is a hero," Kizashi continued. "They say dying like him is a great death. What do you think?" Kizashi's pain-filled gaze bore into the Serpent.

"Death is death. No matter what kind it is, heroic or not. I would have preferred he lived," Stas replied, trying to ignore the duplicity of his own words.

"I would have, too," Kizashi looked away in defeat. "But he's dead."

"What do you plan to do?" The young man flinched and looked questioningly at Stas, who had asked the question.

"Seriously, aren't you even trying? The same question you asked Kenta-san?"

"Hideo-sama asked me to take care of you, Kizashi," Shiro's firm gaze made Kizashi's eyes widen. "And I intend to fulfill my promise. So it's important to me that you don't do anything you'll regret later. So, what do you plan to do?"

"I don't know, happy?" Kizashi snapped. "Maybe you'll leave me alone already?"

"I would recommend work," Stas said impassively. "Keep yourself so busy that all other thoughts disappear before they can even take shape. And when you do remember... It won't be as acute."

Kizashi remained silent, continuing to sit in place.

Stas stood up and nodded to Kaede and Levi to leave. Kizashi clearly needed to be alone.

As Ordyntsev was leaving, a quiet "Thank you" followed him.

"Hideo-sama was a great man. And I'm sure he's very proud of who you've become." Without saying another word, Stas left the room.

Despite Shiro the Serpent's many positive qualities, compassion and the ability to console were not among them.

*****

The guards, bowing, readily opened the doors for the approaching Stas. The head of the Sumada clearly awaited him.

"Shiro! Glad that at least you are alright," Jishin personally stood up and hugged the man, surprising him with such vivid emotions.

"Something happened?" Stas cautiously inquired, going through all the possible reasons for such unexpected affection.

"Ah, the same old good Serpent," Jishin shook his head with a light smile. "Everything's going to hell, the world's on the brink of collapse, chaos all around, and my friend, Shiro, is still as unflappable as ever. Sometimes, I even envy you. I wish I could look at everything with a cool head."

"You'd be surprised, but it's not always a blessing," Stas frowned slightly, for Jishin's casual words sounded like a cruel mockery.

"Understandable. Everything has its nuances and downsides," Jishin waved it off, sitting back down in the place of honor. "How was the journey? And I'll tell you right away, I haven't met with Katashi yet. We need to wait for the right time, so it doesn't feel like I ordered him to come for a talk. The last thing we need now is Mizuno's resentment."

"Politics," Stas nodded understandingly. "And how are things here?"

"How, you ask? Terrible, what else can you say. Everyone's demoralized. What can one hope for if we lost when we had all the cards in our hands? Constant clashes between the onmyoji and yokai, as well as between warmasters and samurai, are already the damn norm. Everything's still holding, but who knows how long it will last."

Stas listened attentively to Jishin's complaints, gradually forming a picture of the situation.

"But let's talk a bit later, now I'm waiting for the elders of the nearby villages that supply us with food. Something really worried them, so they all insisted on a meeting."

Stas just nodded. He had much to think about.

Meanwhile, the delegation of peasants didn't take long to arrive.

Inside came six elderly men who immediately fell to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the ground, waiting for the signal to speak.

"Let one of you speak for all," the head of the Sumada commanded with a wave of his hand.

After a slight pause, one of the elders, with neat silver-gray whiskers and a beard, dared to raise his face to finally speak.

"Trouble, master. A terrible blight has struck the fields. Plants are blackening and rotting. Some are even changing. The livestock is also changing..." The peasant's voice trembled and, turning into a dramatic whisper, fell silent.

"Why are you silent, speak! What happened to them!" Jishin lost his temper, slapping his knee.

Startled by the slap, the elder hurriedly spoke.

"They're acting strange, sickening, stinking, but not dying, and anyone who dares eat this livestock dies in terrible agony. We tried offering gifts to the spirits, but the spirits no longer hear us. Master, forgive me, by the Kami, forgive me, but we no longer have fields! The plants have perished, the water is poisoned, and we have nothing left to pay your tax! We have almost nothing to eat!"

Jishin's hand suddenly trembled, but he did not notice it, staring blankly at the elder who kept bowing, overwhelmed by the maddening pressure of bloodlust. The others didn't even dare to raise their heads.

Meanwhile, Stas began rubbing his eyes with his hand.

They needed to destroy the chaos very, very quickly, for soon they would face a new problem, namely a fatal lack of food.

An unexpected thought flashed and coiled like a poisonous snake in Ordyntsev's mind.

Perhaps in the new conditions, a large number of casualties would not be such a bad thing?