HP: Spirit Talker

A few more months had passed since the treaty had been signed, and they had been well spent.

First, and most importantly, Ba-san immediately discovered that I was being methodically drugged with various compositions for quite some time, even inventing recipes and methods of use.

Of course, I suspected something bad, but I didn't expect this. The witch got right to work, constantly searching for the necessary ingredients for antidotes and restorative compositions. It took an unexpectedly long time, the making itself no less, and the taking was expectedly painful (I had been warned).

The course lasted four months, during which I was always hurting and breaking something. But from time to time I could almost hear a strange cracking sound and the sound of tearing strings, which made me feel better in general and with my head in particular.

Second, I finished the library, that is, I copied the most important and worthwhile books, carefully pushing aside useless verbiage and "the great works of the wise 'scholars.'" Particularly amusing were the diaries of Miyazaki's "great" men, who spent hundreds of pages weaving lace about nothing.

Their first-person biographies were invariably replete with great deeds, momentous decisions characteristic of the Empire, and so on and so forth. Once, however, there was a dusty diary of one of the elders from the thirteenth century that was really interesting to read. The man was funny, self-critical, with a lot of irony and skepticism. I especially laughed at his stories about seducing the wives of the top clansmen.

He couldn't say how it was in the other clans, but the fact that the Miyazaki clan had his blood in three of the five senior branches was an undeniable fact. In addition, he added that the oldest branch, the oldest branch, had no heirs because all four children of the clan leader's wife were not from the clan leader!

However, the head of the clan had also strayed, and the twins of the fourth branch were born of him, and the twins of the fifth branch were born of the second branch. That's the Santa Barbara of it all. I really laughed until I cried, because this man — Masanobu Miyazaki — was the first generation of "fresh blood," that is, his father was a second-generation clan magician who entered his wife's family from the younger blood branch. In just fifteen years of his life, he rose to the level of Elder and started his Elder lineage, more than once.

Man, that's a hero, not like some people! It should be added that the man was an excellent fighter — a mage and a swordsman, and was married to "Nogitsune" — a kind of kitsune, a "field fox", a joker and a deceiver.

But most importantly, his journals also contained some strange rituals, potions, potion recipes, but most importantly, a recipe for a ritual to transmute weapon steel into the steel used to forge ancient spiritual swords, including demonic swords. I couldn't pass up such a thing, and the diary was also privatized, and after a few days, I was empowered by a thought.

With this thought, I went to the clan blacksmith. Although Grandpa is normal, he could also tell everyone about it, so I did not explain to him how I knew it, but I promised to share in exchange for help in creating a full-fledged weapon.

It wasn't easy to get the weapon steel — I had to send the brothers to the military base of the Self-Defense Force. But even then, I was wondering where to get it — I couldn't dig holes in tank barrels, could I? Luckily, I met some technicians and heard some interesting information. In the end, I got what I wanted to avoid: the barrel of a self-propelled tank was cracked during a training exercise, so I peeled off a piece of it, though not as big as I would have liked.

I had enough material for a full-size tsurugi and two tantos, and I had to pay the blacksmith the same amount. But that didn't take away from the fact that on my fifteenth birthday I got a fancy weapon that hadn't been made in over a hundred years. All modern craft is a rough copy, nothing more.

 I didn't glamorize the weapon, I just left "anchors" — special hieroglyphic keys to which I could later add certain functions and abilities. I only installed the self-repair and self-healing functions. And so, to keep the weapon from shining, I stuffed it into a bracelet ring.

There was no free time at all: every minute was used to the best of my ability, and the sleep mode did not exceed four hours for a long time. I tried to do everything as efficiently and productively as possible, but time relentlessly ate up days, weeks, and months.

My skin felt like it was running late, but I couldn't do anything about it. Meditation didn't help much, and when I was a week away from my fifteenth birthday, Sugawara-sensei told me to prepare for the open swordsmanship exam. I even tried to tell him about my situation and why I needed a postponement. And that's when I really got a kick out of the answer: It's none of my business, you're not my personal apprentice, so I don't care about your personal life.

I didn't get it at first, and I tried to talk to him, but he indifferently replied, — No. It turned out that a week after my birthday, there would be an exam, and immediately after that, there would be a wedding.

That bastard swordsman also congratulated me, still with the same indifferent expression on his face. Shit! I was so angry that I could barely control myself as I made my way to the drill ground. But as soon as the barrier circuit slammed shut, everything inside burned, dust flew, and a whole lot more until I calmed down relatively.

The time before the exam passed like lightning, because traditionally my birthday is not celebrated at all, no one even pays attention to it. And the test itself was a blur: I walked into the ring, beat three thirty-year-old swordsmen to a pulp, and knocked out two more with a single blow of unformed magic, that's all. And it was only when this indifferent scum bade farewell to the elders that I learned that I had not been taught anything secret, but something ordinary.

But unique knowledge, cunning schools and techniques are only passed on to the Personal Apprentice. I wanted to burn him and let the wind carry the ashes away, but I felt sorry for his children. But he did not refuse revenge, and now he will never have children again. I wanted to castrate him completely, but his magic was too dark and could be traced. The only thing that stopped him was that he didn't want to be seen.

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