The portal opened right into the Supreme Sorcerer's "box." Why in quotation marks? Because the entire Arena is improvised. Consequently, the VIP boxes are too. Dragon Battles are never held in the same place twice. Therefore, attending without an invitation (or a friend with an invitation) is very problematic. After all, the planet is very big. In fact, it's enormous! And the notion of Geography that exists in "civilized," "developed" countries is a tiny piece of glass in a gigantic mosaic. Personally, this truth was revealed to me after my fifth Battle, when I sat and tried in vain, using the starry sky, maps, special measuring instruments, and my nautical skills (at which I was already quite proficient), to determine my location during the rest periods between battles. The results were paradoxical, shocking, ambiguous... and completely useless. I simply had to accept the fact: Marvel Earth is bigger than people think. For example, an island three times larger than the sea itself could be located here in the sea, while in the Southern Hemisphere there could be an entire continent half the size of Eurasia, unmarked on maps, yet not changing the direction and strength of seasonal winds over the ocean due to the presence of currents such as the Gulf Stream, and not affecting the planet's center of mass rotation... Not to mention the fact that neither the former nor the latter are visible from satellites or aircraft. But before Zen, there are various "hidden" valleys like the same Kamar-Taj, "folded" spaces, "secret" settlements, "cursed" deserts and the like, with a total area exceeding the total area of the planet together with ice and oceans... several times! And that's just the land! But this planet's underwater world is also populated, and no less densely than its surface. Studying physics at European universities, ALREADY knowing about such quirks of this reality, was amusing. And geography... It's like a modern professional traveler, having personally circumnavigated the globe along the equator, studying The Tortoise and the Three Elephants in a medieval Catholic school (incidentally, those same Greek philosophers considered the Earth to be a sphere and were quite proficient in astronomy. It was later, around the time of Rome and the early heyday of Christianity, that such ideas were declared heretical and firmly forgotten, as it's easier to rule a dumb flock). So it will be thousands of years before battlefields begin to repeat themselves. And even then, it's unlikely. There's no face control or security at this event either. Why bother? After all, "random people" simply won't make it here. And even if they do, it's their own problem—they won't be able to cause any trouble for the organizers. As for safety... No one's dragging anyone here by force. Especially not weaklings and fools. As for strong fighters... The battle doesn't have to take place in the arena. If you want to fight, fight where you feel like it. Unable to stand up for yourself or no one to stand up for you? Just sit back and keep a low profile, much less bark. Anarchy and the Law of the Strong in all their glory. The only thing you shouldn't do is touch the organizers and support staff, as they'll get offended and leave, ending the Battle immediately. And everyone involved will be told who caused it. If you make it out alive, consider yourself lucky. You won't get an invitation to the next Battle at all. Even if you manage to find out and get there yourself... the organizers will leave again upon seeing you, without even starting the Battle. I remember such a case. An exceptionally strong and brazen mutant raped a female member of the staff. He then killed the organizer's representative who had come to clarify and resolve the incident. They didn't send any more people to him. All the organizers simply gathered, apologized to the other participants, explained the situation, and left. As a result, the Battle of the Dragons gradually devolved into a showdown between all those dissatisfied with this mutant. The guy was truly strong! He survived it and even walked away on his own two feet (most of the strongest fighters didn't participate in the general entertainment, including me – Master Hong said it was stupid to fight for free and went home. So, I went with him. Only the most stupid and aggressive remained). And for the next Battle, this idiot managed to find and arrive on time. But the organizers, once again, as soon as they saw him, stood up, explained the situation to everyone, and left. This time the impudent fellow got a much harder punch in the face. But again he managed to escape almost unharmed. He came to the third Battle and officially, publicly apologized to everyone at once: the participants and the organizers. They forgave him. They extorted a large sum of money as "compensation" (basically everything he had)... and then he died in the very first battle. It's not hard to guess who his opponent was - me. And on the eve of the fight, a representative of the organizers came to Master Hong and me with a very fat and rather heavy bag of money, who recommended that we show no mercy to our opponent. No mercy at all. In fact, we should humiliate him, trample him into the dirt, and definitely finish him off. Well, I've never been much of a hero. Especially since the money was good, and certainly not unnecessary. Plus, Master Hong approved... The organizers were pleased with my work. That was in 1795. And no similar incidents have occurred since. The rule of not touching the organizers and staff remained unwritten, but no less inviolable. However, there's no payout for winning a fight held outside the arena. Therefore, it's rare for truly strong fighters, especially regulars, to cause trouble. But there are always plenty of hooligans and idiots, so no Battle is complete without fights. And without corpses. The looks on Charles and Eric's faces were priceless as a saddled pterodactyl flew overhead. They were both "men of science," after all. And science says dinosaurs are extinct. Surely I shouldn't explain that they weren't extinct everywhere? This time, the organizers set up the arena in a small mountain valley, creating a virtually natural amphitheater. They set up some crude benches and awnings, and marked out a level area in the center. Surely there's a settlement nearby where everyone can spend the night, since the Battle lasts more than one day. The qualifiers were supposed to take place today. Someone was already fighting on that very same court. About twenty spectators watched the fight listlessly from the benches. Suo and I, our companions, looked around with greedy interest. Xavier touched his head with his hand. "Charles!" I said sullenly. "Stop it this instant! Keep your 'habits' in check! I don't want to start a fight right from the start!" "Sorry, Victor..." he immediately removed his hand from his head. "Is it that serious?" Eric asked, surprised. "This doesn't sound like the horrors Raven used to scare me with half the night." "It's daytime," I replied. "Everyone's catching up on sleep. By evening it'll be packed." "Glad to welcome you!" a man emerged from the portal, bowing deeply to Suo. He was wearing robes of the cut and colors worn by the organizers of the Battle (almost identical to the canonical Shaolin yifu, the kind I once wore myself, except that unlike the monastic gray or brick-red, theirs was bright red with a stylized golden dragon on the back and chest). "Supreme Sorcerer," he said, turning his gaze to me and suddenly turning pale—and rightly so: my hatred of mages is well known here. "Master Sabertooth," he said, bowing even lower. "Relax," I told him sullenly. "There won't be a fight. She's my wife." The guy straightened up and smiled tentatively. But then the second part of my sentence dawned on him, and I watched as his eyes grew about half their size. He glanced from me to Suo, then back to me, trying to say something, but couldn't utter a word, his mouth hanging open like a fish out of air. "Don't be so surprised," Suo said softly. I even admired her at that moment – her eyes sparkled so brightly with joy, yet her face didn't betray even the hint of a smile. "Anything can happen in this world. Have you come to tell me something?" the boy finally managed to control himself. - Yes, yes, exactly. I've come to greet you on behalf of the Battle organizers and to inform you that a separate house is already awaiting you. There you can rest from the journey before the evening battles. "I'm not alone today. My husband and his friends are with me," Suo noted. "Is it possible to accommodate them too?" "Let me clarify that," the boy bowed slightly. "Master Sabretooth," he turned to me. "Will you participate in the qualifiers? Or will you still take advantage of your Champion's privilege?" "I'm not participating," who knew what that short phrase cost me. "But there's no other way, not until I take control of the freeze frame. The Battle of the Dragons is no joke. You can even get killed if you're not completely serious." "This time, I'm just a spectator." "Are you sure?" the guy looked at me in bewilderment. I understand this little guy perfectly: in his eyes, I looked no less wild than an alcoholic who came to a pub to nibble on nothing but crackers and dried fish. I remained silent. But my look spoke louder than words. "I understand, Master Sabretooth. With your permission, I'll go and check on the house," he bowed, then turned, opened a portal, and disappeared through it. "Vik, what happened?" Suo suddenly became serious. She addressed me in one of the Chinese dialects that was spoken in the area where my monastery was located. "I'm not feeling well," I looked away, answering in the same language. - Is it something serious? Can I help? - No. I can handle it. - If anything happens, I'm nearby, you don't need to carry everything alone. "I told you, I can handle it," I replied, a little irritated. After all, this matter concerns only me. - Don't be angry, Vic. It's just that you're "not feeling well"... It's scary. "I told you, I can handle it!" I repeated, no longer irritated, turning back to the arena and beginning to watch the combatants closely. Unfortunately, there was nothing interesting there: they were newbies. And not particularly strong ones at that: one was a weak mutant pyrokineticist, the other a physicist (meaning simply superhuman physical strength, speed, and reflexes), and without any real hand-to-hand combat experience—lots of jumps, rolls, and dodges, but his strikes were haphazard, he didn't keep his distance, and he had no sense at all. Because of this, he often missed his shots and was met with the first one's fiery counterattacks. He got by on speed and reflexes alone. Any fighter of even a mid-level Battle level would have flattened them both across the arena in seconds. But to them, the fight didn't seem pathetic: they were seriously trying to kill each other, straining their strength. A second, then another, and the pyrokinetic, tripping, falls backward. The physicist seizes the opportunity and leaps from above, intending to finish off his opponent. But the pyrokinetic, from a prone position, launches a fire attack and hits. The physicist is engulfed in flames, but that can't stop his leap. And just like that, burning alive, he falls on top of the fireman and grabs his throat, screaming in pain mixed with rage. Another ten seconds later, a wet crunch was heard – the fireman's spine had snapped. The physicist continued to furiously strangle his opponent's corpse when a portal opened behind him, and kids in red fu with dragons jumped out. They quickly and calmly doused the fighters with water from buckets they had brought with them, extinguishing the flames. Then they quickly pulled the physicist away from the corpse, and one of them immediately began administering magical first aid, while the other two, donning rubber gloves, rolled the corpse onto a stretcher and dragged it through the portal. "What a horror!" Xavier said over my shoulder, also watching the proceedings intently. "They're both mutants! Why? For what purpose? Why are they doing this to each other?..." "This is the Arena, Charles," Suo replied softly. "People don't just come here. And those who come understand exactly why they're coming here, what they're risking, and what they're achieving. They come to fight. To victory or to the death." - But this is... Madness! "You were warned, Charles," Eric clapped Xavier on the shoulder. "The ideals of peace, compassion, and justice are not shared by everyone in this world. I think you'll see that for yourself today." - But, it's just so stupid... At that moment, a portal opened again next to us, from which the same representative of the organizers emerged. "Everything is settled, Madam Supreme Sorcerer, Mister Sabertooth. Should I see you out now or will you stay and watch the preliminaries?" "Right now," I answered sullenly for everyone. "We won't see anything interesting here for the next few hours anyway." Suo nodded in agreement. "Then please follow me," the guy bowed and moved out of the arena, showing the way. * * *
all the Dragon Battles, except for the time I was training with Master Hon, I was alone. No escorts, no invitees, no friends. I didn't get close to anyone, didn't make any friends. Generally, I socialized only when necessary. The organizers have always shown me respect, ever since I fulfilled that small request. And when I first won the Championship in 1835... at 73 years old, the organizers' respectful attitude became fully justified. But I didn't use it: I spent the night in the forest or the mountains, depending on where the Battle was taking place, like a wild animal, hiding and covering my tracks. I only showed up for the fight itself, after which I immediately went back to hiding. And I had my reasons for this: no one forbade killing fighters outside the arena. And there was certainly no limit on the number of people who could participate in this killing. And my hatred for the mages was completely mutual. True, the fact that I was hiding didn't dampen the desire to hunt me. And they did. Whole "hunting parties." They even held bets: would they catch me or not, would they kill me or not... This, too, was a thrilling adventure, no less exciting than the battles themselves. After all, who was hunting whom? Adrenaline, excitement, passion... The chance to unleash your Beast. Total dedication and the full use of your strength, cunning, intelligence, bloodlust... I called it the Wild Hunt. And I'll be honest: Dragon Clash without the Wild Hunt... is too bland. Like boiled meat without salt and pepper—it's filling, but the flavor isn't quite there. But Suo was used to something different... And now we play by her rules: a separate house, excellent service, and extra attention from the hosts. Everything is so decorous, so formal, so official, that it sends shivers down my spine from such a sudden break in my behavioral patterns. But then again, he asked her to do it himself. A group of seven men in traditional mage garb was approaching our small cavalcade. One of them, judging by his facial expression, eyes, movements, posture, and gestures, was their leader. And this group was purposefully approaching us. When they were three or three and a half steps away, the one in front opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and, with a nasty smile, said, drawing out the syllables. "Olll ... The weights blew off the monster's head, scattering it in bloody dust and bone shrapnel, while my hand was already tearing out the heart of the next one standing behind his left shoulder. Immediately, my right foot struck the side of the third one's neck, sharply and forcefully, breaking his cervical vertebrae. Only then did I realize I'd used "Freeze Frame" in my attack. But I didn't care. Especially since I'd used not only that, but also "Jump." And who cares! I'm furious! My body was saturated with Qi, using it to accelerate, strengthen, and deliver blows. The thing is, Qi techniques can't be blocked by magic. Just like magic can't be blocked by Qi techniques. So right now, speed was everything. Shields and passive defenses were like nothing, for them or for me. It was like two unarmored samurai wielding molecularly sharpened katanas—they couldn't stop a blow, only dodge or strike first. The "freeze frame" is over, but I don't stop, I'm already attacking the next one on the death list, piercing his head with a straight punch. Another "jump." The "freeze frame" is triggered again, and fiery runic circles of some spells, never having had time to activate, freeze in the air. The mage's head, severed by the edge of his hand, and his arms, also no longer connected to his body, also freeze in the air. The "freeze frame" ends at the moment when I tear the second to last of this company into two halves (right and left), let out a furious roar, as generously seasoned with a blow of Qi as all the previous movements, right in the face of the last one, knocking him off his feet with this roar. Him and everyone else who found themselves on that half of the trampled, unpaved "square" we'd just reached. Including the three small, saddled dinosaurs. "She's my woman!!! Questions?!" I asked him, keeping my voice and volume high. He shook his head frantically, confirming he had no questions... as did the dozen or so other people and not-quite-people lying on the ground who were closer to us. His eyes blazed with a mixture of horror and madness. A puddle was slowly spreading beneath him. And a distinctive, unpleasant odor was beginning to spread. I slowly looked around with bloodshot eyes. I heard the sound of a stomach emptied sharply behind me. And it seemed like more than one. I hesitated to turn around—I needed to get my rage under control first. I needed to at least get a little control over my beast, otherwise I risked doing something stupid... and possibly getting punched in the face by Suo (I don't think she holds the title of Supreme Sorcerer for nothing—she's more than powerful enough to subdue one rabid mutant with her magic). I slowly straightened up, slumped my shoulders, and tried to shake the blood off my hands. It didn't work very well. My rage was under control again. I turned around: Xavier and McCoy were vomiting. Logan, his blades released, was looking around warily. Erik was bristling with dozens of metal needles, suspended in the air and pointed in all directions at once. Raven was pressed against his back, a cocoon of needles enveloping her as well, as if she were an extension of Erik's body. A rune circle glowed beneath Suoh's feet, two others hung before her outstretched arms. Her head was covered by the enchanted hood of her robe. The guy in the red fu who accompanied us lay on the ground five steps away from our group, his head in his hands, his legs stretched out in our direction—a seasoned veteran: the correct reaction to a showdown between fighters of this caliber. After all, no one would deliberately touch a "red" unless he made a mistake and exposed himself to attack. "Ssssorry, Suo," I said to my wife, still with a slightly growling note in my voice. "I couldn't help myself. Was that your friend?" "No, Vik," Suo replied, taking her time extinguishing the rune circles. "He wasn't my friend." - Will they avenge him? - I doubt it. Few people liked Rick. He was a rather intolerable person. Even though he was a very powerful mage. Very powerful. I scanned the surrounding area again, searching for danger. But there was none. No one was rushing to attack our company, which had demonstrated such high combat readiness (Xavier and McCoy didn't count). "Let's go to the house already," I suggested. Suo nodded and lowered her arms, stopping the circles. The hood slid off her head and back onto her back. "Boy!" I shouted to the "red one," quietly stepping on the throat of the still-lying last of the seven. There was a crunch, followed by a death rattle. The body twitched and went silent. Even though he had turned gray in less than a minute, even though he was shaking his head and looked harmless—he was a mage. I hate mages. Suo looked at me reproachfully, I just shrugged. "Yes, Mister Sabertooth?" the "red" one answered in a quite calm voice, removing one hand from his head and looking up at me. - The fight is over. We can move on. "Indeed," he said, looking around the area appraisingly. Then he calmly rose, cast some kind of spell to cleanse his robe, and moved on in his previous direction. I tore off a piece of clothing from the cleanest corpse (the third one whose neck I had broken) and, wiping my hands with it as I went, followed my escort. Eric retracted the needles into his armor and kept pace, as did Raven, who was walking beside him. Logan sheathed his blades and followed us. Xavier, pale to the point of green, was running after us, as was McCoy, wiping his face with his paw. "So what now?" Eric asked me. "Will there be problems?" "No," Suo shook her head. "This is the Battle of the Dragons. No one cares about fights and killings here, as long as they don't touch the organizers or the service staff. They wear bright red ifu on purpose, so they can be easily identified." "You could even kill every single one of the 'non-Reds'—you're within your rights," I added sullenly, remembering that one of the Battles, a long time ago, had ended just like that: the Wild Hunt had dragged on, gradually moving toward the Arena itself and the adjacent village. Some had managed to escape through portals or something similar, but everyone who remained perished. In the end, I was awarded the Championship without even holding qualifiers—there was simply no one to fight. And by the way, I didn't kill all of them. They were happy to do the job for me. - In the right? - Xavier interjected. "The Right of the Strong," Suo explained. "It's the only right that applies here during the Battle. Strong means surviving, therefore right." - What a horror... How can such savagery even exist?! "Some people need just that kind of savagery. And you'd be surprised, Charles, how many of them there are," Suo remarked sadly. "None of them came here under duress. All of them came of their own free will, and they put in a lot of effort into it." "Cruelty and aggression are in people's blood, Charles," Eric interjected. "I tell you this all the time, but for some reason you still don't want to understand it." "But you attacked them yourself!" Xavier declared. "Out of the blue, you rushed in and killed them!" "He insulted my wife. In front of me," I answered calmly. "And he's a magician." "So what if he's a mage?" McCoy didn't understand. "I hate mages," I explained sullenly, throwing the bloody rag on the ground. Suo sighed sadly. On that note, the conversation died down. Especially since we'd just reached the house assigned to us. Suo started putting on shields and protections, and I went to wash myself. * * *
Before the evening battles of the main series, which were already worth watching, Logan and I played chess. Xavier was sulking. Eric and Raven locked themselves in their room and were undisturbed. Hank watched our game, occasionally commenting. Suo was meditating. That brief skirmish with the mages had an unpleasant consequence: my suit was ruined. The sudden, sweeping movements had ripped it in many places, and it was heavily stained with blood. I didn't care, but my wife was categorically against me continuing to look like that. She said, "Don't embarrass me, Vic!" I had to give in. Through the same "red" Suo got me a change of clothes. No, of course, I could have hopped home and changed, but I didn't want to expose my abilities to strangers. So I had to make do with what I had. They brought me a Shaolin yifu. A classic one. Gray. And it even came with prayer beads. I stared at the outfit for a full minute, digesting it and reminiscing. Then I took the rags I'd brought, called Logan with me, and locked myself in the room. I emerged fifteen minutes later, dressed in new clothes and with a gleaming bald head. Suo was completely floored. Especially considering the circumstances of our first meeting in the mountains of Tibet. Logan laughed, smoking his cigar. The others didn't really understand. Suo even managed to apologize before I dragged her into the far spare room, where she cast a silencing charm and used her trinket to slow down time - she wasn't the only one feeling nostalgic. By normal time, we returned to the others about twenty minutes later. Subjectively, though... I don't even know, but we definitely spent about five hours on each other. * * * On the way to the arena, I met again. And again, these weren't my acquaintances, but my wives. A tall, slender, beautiful young woman with long, straight black hair falling loosely over her shoulders approached us, wearing a rather extravagant and revealing black leather outfit. She was accompanied by two silent, burly men of normal bodyguard appearance, wearing European-style black suits. "Hello, Suo!" this person smiled, not the most pleasantly, approaching the same three steps as the mage before. Moreover, she greeted us in English, which was a little odd. "It's been a while since we've seen each other! I no longer regret wasting my time on that stupid Battle!" Suo grabbed my hand warningly and didn't let go, apparently so I wouldn't "do something stupid." And what about me? I'm nothing. Ifu and prayer beads, a bald head, the blissful smile of a world-loving idiot—the canonical look of a Zen Buddhist monk. Especially after the recent kill, the beast had calmed down a bit, and after good sex, I myself was so blissful that my inner self practically matched my outer appearance. But this did not make his wife's grip any less strong, nor her any less tense. "Hello, Selena," she replied to the dark-haired girl's greeting. "I didn't expect to see you here." "I decided not to ignore the lizards' invitation this time. Especially since they say they've got a really interesting specimen here—he's already won twenty times. It'll be interesting to see him," the dark-haired girl said dreamily. Selena... Selena... Selena! Could this be the same Selena, the one older than even the Apocalypse?!! The Black Queen of the Hellfire Club?!! What a misfortune it is to meet you! Now I fully understand my wife's warning, which was so clear that she literally grabbed my hand with a death grip. "Sorry to disappoint you, but this 'specimen' is not participating today," Suo replied. "How disappointing!" Selena said, upset. "But how do you know that? Maybe he's just running late? He'll arrive later, make up for lost time, joining the second or even third round. I don't think the organizers would object to that." "He's already here. And he officially told the organizers he's here exclusively as a spectator," Suo replied with some displeasure. I tried to give myself an even more spiritual air of blissful, otherworldly abandon. - I see... - at that moment the black-haired girl's gaze caught the tattoo on the sorceress's wrist. - Suo! You got married?! When? Congratulations! How so? Who's the lucky one? I silently raised my right hand and pulled my sleeve down slightly, exposing my wrist. Selena's eyes widened. Her attention was completely focused on me, her gaze literally scanning me. "Will you introduce us?" she asked Suo. "Victor Creed... Lansher. Abbot of the Shaolin Monastery in Tibet... Former. Known here as Sabretooth," Suo introduced me. "Selena is the Black Queen of the Hellfire Club. One of the most powerful women on the planet. Even the most powerful. One of the very first mutants in the world. And she wields magic. For centuries, entire nations worshiped her as a goddess. "Well, about centuries - that was rude," the dark-haired girl pouted. "I'm not talking about your millennia!" "He knows about my millennia," Suo answered calmly. - And the other companions? I understand correctly that they are my husband's friends, and not yours? "Eric Lansher," I took over the introduction. "My brother. Doctor of Physical and Mathematical Sciences. Mutant. One of the most powerful on the planet. Of those currently alive. His wife is Raven. Charles Xavier is a professor of biology. Mutant. The most powerful telepath on the planet. Hank McCoy is a Doctor of Physical and Mathematical Sciences. Mutant. James Howlett is a mutant." "You throw around the words 'the strongest on the planet' with such confidence," Selena chuckled. I merely shrugged and looked up at the sky again, smiling stupidly and happily, like a proper Buddhist monk. In fact, with the exception of a few monthly peccadilloes with Suo, I eventually became a good monk: I stopped sleeping during services, learned all the prayers, mantras, and sacred texts, learned to give way to every bug I encountered, carefully sweeping them away with a broom so as not to crush them, and even learned to completely clear my consciousness and fill my heart with Light... unfortunately, not for long. But I learned! "That kind of answer makes me think," Selena smiled slyly. "And it makes me remember where I've heard the name Creed before." "And where is it?" Suo asked inquisitively. During World War II, a certain Major Creed guarded the Soviet superweapon. Viktor Ivanovich Creed, twice Hero of the Soviet Union, a supersoldier... Presumed missing in action. "War... war is in the past... Love, peace, joy, Zen!" I clasped my palms together, then separated them and raised my gaze to the sky, smiling soulfully and sincerely. "So that's why you cut off Rick's head and tore his hangers-on to pieces?" Selena asked with a sly and sarcastic smile. "Nobody's perfect," I sighed heavily. "They insulted Suo... Perhaps they'll be better off in their next reincarnation..." "Your husband is funny, Suo," Selena said. "He has an interesting sense of humor. It's a shame we won't be able to see him perform." Suo nodded silently to Selena. Selena repeated the gesture and said quietly, "An Sabah Nur is here. Be careful." Suo nodded again. Then our groups parted, and I was deep in thought: An Sabah Nur. Apocalypse, Zen! The last thing I needed! But none of my thoughts were reflected on my face - I had learned to control my face well in monasticism.
finally made it to the arena, or rather, our seats in the stands. Albeit after another ambiguous encounter. Kandra came up to greet Suo, congratulated him on his marriage, and also warned him about El Sabah Nur. What the hell kind of meeting are they having? In over a century and a half of known history, not a single External has ever shown up here, and this time there are three! What a nightmare. So I wasn't at all surprised to spot El Sabah Nur himself in the stands, alongside Zlydny, better known as Nathaniel Essex. Far more intriguing was the other group: thirty Soviet paratroopers in summer field uniforms. They sported bright blue Margelov berets, introduced only last year, and vests peeked out from under their tunics. The most interesting thing was that there wasn't a single soldier, sergeant, or warrant officer in this group—only officers. All of them had Kalashnikovs, but they also carried sabers, shovels, NRs, battle axes, grenades, and even grenade launchers... A funny bunch. Fit, athletic, serious... From their small movements, their graceful posture, and their distinctive glances, it was easy to tell they were fighters. Serious ones, at that. They were probably not much inferior even to Captain. Except for experience, of course. The most interesting thing was that among the dashing mustachioed men, I noticed three girls. They were wearing the same uniform, men's, but well-tailored. I estimated their ages—it turned out they were all from the very generation that should have grown up according to Erskine's program. Soviet Supersoldiers... At the Battle of the Dragons. This is someone I didn't expect to see here. But it wasn't just me who was looking at them; they were looking at me, too. Or rather, they were looking at everyone, carefully and tenaciously picking out even the smallest details. But once they reached my humble self, the rest of them became of little interest to them. A red-haired girl rose from her seat, bearing a striking resemblance to the Scarlett Johansson from my past world. Captain's epaulets adorned her shoulders. Three others rose with her. Also captains. And these four headed straight in my direction. The others braced themselves and adjusted their grips on their weapons, but left the safeties untouched for now. "Comrade Major!" the red-haired woman approached me and addressed me. "Captain Romanova, may I speak to you?" "You're mistaken," I answered her in Russian, with the gentle, kind smile of a Zen monk. "My name is Victor Lensher. And I don't hold the rank of major." "Excuse me, Comrade Lansher," she corrected herself easily, her expression still serious. "Can we talk here?" she asked, looking meaningfully at my companions. I glanced at them too and sighed: there are some secrets I'm not ready to reveal to some of them. Or rather, to most of them. "Shall we step aside?" I asked. The captain's wife nodded. I rose from the bench and leisurely walked toward the arena exit. The four officers followed me. * * * "So what did you want to tell me, Natasha?" I asked, still smiling and with that bright, almost idiotic kind look in my eyes. Yes, I got caught. But let her figure out how much I know and where I got it from. "I have been instructed to convey to you a request for a meeting, Comrade Lansher," she said, without batting an eye. "From whom?" I asked inquisitively, although I was already beginning to guess who it was from, but I was afraid to believe it or even imagine such a thing. "From Comrade Stalin," she didn't disappoint. My smile faded a little, but I managed to hold on to it and even return it. "Where? When?" I asked. If this man is seeking a personal meeting with me, then sooner or later, one way or another, he will achieve his goal – he has the resources for it. "But only on neutral territory." "Why?" Natasha was surprised, or feigned surprise. "They'll be glad to see you in Moscow, they'll greet you like a Hero." "Too many Heroes have been lost since '37. Even more were transported to the camps." "That's just anti-Soviet propaganda, Comrade Lansher," Captain Romanova smiled. It's not yet clear what exactly she's a captain for—blue shoulder straps and a beret don't mean anything—an intelligence officer can pull off any uniform. - And yet. I am a citizen of France. A country where "anti-Soviet propaganda" is the dominant ideology. "Comrade Stalin expected such distrust from you, Comrade Lansher," Captain Romanova returned her serious expression. "He proposes Kamar Taj as a meeting place. Immediately after the Battle of the Dragons. He hopes your wife will not object to his presence on her territory." "Do you know why he wants to meet, Natasha?" I asked. My eyes remained as kind as ever, but they also became very attentive, because the answer to this question was important to me. It could change a lot. "No," Captain Romanova replied. "He didn't give us any details. My only job was to deliver the invitation to you personally. The others are to ensure my safety at the event." "So you won't be taking part in the Battle?" I asked in surprise. - There was no such task. - What if I ask for a fight? - That is? - You know who I am, right? "To be honest, not very good. Only that you, Red Army Major Viktor Ivanovich Creed, twice Hero of the Soviet Union, were presumed dead since 1943. That you might be found here under the nickname Sabretooth." - And Qamar Taj? And my wife? "These are Comrade Stalin's words. Their meaning was never explained to me," she said, a little embarrassed, or feigning embarrassment. Well, I have no reason not to believe her, just as I have no reason to believe her. - And who is Sabretooth, have you already managed to find out here on the spot? - No. We just arrived. We recognized you from your photo right away. "I'm the Champion of the last Dragon Battle. Only minor health issues prevented me from participating today. And I want to fight you." - With me? - Captain Romanova was surprised. "Not necessarily," I shook my head. "Any of you will do for me. The one you consider the strongest. It doesn't have to be just one." "Fight? To the death?" Natasha's expression darkened. "We don't need losses. We can't kill you. Your death would mean our failure." "No," I said, making my smile even wider and kinder. "Just a fight. To test your strength and training." - Check the level? - Natasha was surprised. - Why? - Want! "But we don't," she replied. "Then I'll just attack you," the kindness slowly began to fade from my smile. At the same time, the smile itself grew wider, revealing my not-quite-human fangs. "And not everyone will escape alive..." "We don't need a conflict," Natasha began to get a little nervous. "Then you know what to do," I said, lowering the level of kindness in my smile a little more. "Is there really no other way?" she said, making another attempt to avoid the inevitable. "No way," I snapped. "Just a minute." "Vadim Semenovich?" she asked one of her three escorts. He slung his AK-47 off his shoulder and handed it to his comrade, then cracked his neck and stepped forward. I stepped back a little to give him room to maneuver. The captain followed me. We stood facing each other in silence for a moment, taking stock. The monastic kindness, gentleness, and love for the world returned to the smile on my face. The young man, on the other hand, frowned. He struck quickly, sharply, skillfully, aiming at my chin and froze in surprise, looking at his fist, which had hit my palm. He pressed harder, counting on his strength, which was easily on par with, and perhaps even slightly superior to, Cap's. But it was no use. My foot shot sharply into his solar plexus. The blow wasn't "clean," so the man was thrown about fifteen meters toward the nearest tree, which he crashed into backwards, and then slid to the ground, gasping for air. "More!" I demanded of Natasha. She nodded to her remaining two escorts. As if on command, they put their machine guns on the ground and walked toward me. Well, I've tested my strength and toughness, now I can work on my endurance, I thought, spinning and tossing them both around on the ground again and again. Soon, the first one, more or less recovered, pulled himself up. And a little later, three more joined the three, then more... It was amusing to use the techniques and methods I'd learned from Morihei instead of the usual hard-hitting styles. The result was something very similar to what he himself demonstrated in his classes, staging randori demonstrations. Except that he himself was very short and frail, while I was practically the complete opposite. And they rarely attacked him with weapons. My current "dance partners," however, began attacking me with sabers, shovels, knives, and some even with machine guns with bayonets attached. At some point, a fighter from this group, who hadn't previously participated in the fun, stepped forward. He stood in front of the spot where I'd been throwing and spinning his comrades, and suddenly the exposed areas of his body began to gleam with metal. Really?!!! Having noticed such an interesting moment, I immediately stopped playing with my partners, quickly and effectively removing them from the battle, simply knocking them out, so that none of them would interfere with me enjoying a new game with a new interesting partner. The Colossus—and for some reason I had no doubt it was—moved toward me. I rushed toward it and, without holding back, slammed my fist right into the center of its chest. It made a sound, and felt like I'd struck a steel block. But let me remind you: my punch had once shattered the Tiger's armor, and since then I'd managed to undergo another "upgrade," and continued to develop as a martial arts master. The colossus held firm. But it staggered. What a happy smile crept across my face after that! I've never had such a cool makiwara in my life!!! I couldn't even contain my emotions and laughed joyfully. "Sorry, Petya!" I told him, having managed to suppress my laughter. "But you're so cool!!!" Then the party began: I landed blow after blow, to various points on his impenetrable body, from various positions, different strikes, every strike I knew: karate, kung fu, muay boran! Including killing and crippling ones. Very quickly and with maximum force, without holding back, without weakening my hand... I hit with fists, kicks, knees, elbows, bent and straightened fingers, the edge of my palm, and the "whip"... From a jump, from a turn, from a twist, singles, doubles, in series... From the outside, I must have looked like a jackhammer pounding a frying pan... or Iron Man smashing the Hulk in the head with his mechanical fist, because few could have seen or appreciated the full range of blows I delivered. The Colossus staggered and retreated, retreated, retreated. It must have been painful. At some point, he tripped and fell backward under my pressure. I stopped, but he didn't rise. His body lost its polished metal gleam, and he first curled into a fetal position, and then simply passed out. "Well," I sighed. "Not bad. Speed, strength, endurance, flexibility, and reflexes are excellent, but technique is a bit weak... Although, it could have been worse." "Are you satisfied?" Natasha asked, trying to keep her composure. - Generally speaking, yes. I'd like to see your personal level, of course, but you don't disgrace a commander in front of his subordinates... "Explain: why did you need all this?" she asked. "A whim," I shrugged. "You can report the mission's success to command." - That is? - I will wait at Kamar Taj after the Battle is over. "Thank you, Comrade Lansher," Captain Romanova nodded. By that moment, my recent "dance partners" were just beginning to come to their senses and rise from the ground. "Well done, guys!" I walked among them, encouragingly patting their shoulders and backs. "You have great potential! The main thing is to keep working on yourselves!" "Easy for you to say," one of them couldn't resist wiping blood from his split lip. "Scattered them like blind puppies..." "What did you expect?" the smile on my face became a little less kind and a little more predatory. "Vlasov!" Romanova warned, raising her voice slightly. He immediately fell silent and hurried to his weapon, which lay behind the girl's back. I helped two more people up, and then moved back to the stands.Chapter 45
The boys came to quickly. Those who had come to first helped those who were just beginning to stir. They acted without unnecessary shouting, efficiently, albeit cursing under their breath. Less than five minutes later, the entire small squad was on its feet. The Colossus, the most injured of all, was lifted and supported under his shoulders. Captain Romanova gave the command, and the girls I'd noticed earlier pulled out what looked like staves or staffs from their cases and began twirling them in a clever, coordinated manner. A portal opened, unlike the ones Suo had used, but nonetheless functional, as on the other side, not the local tropical thickets were visible, but fir trees, birches, and wheeled vehicles cloaked in camouflage nets. Another half minute, and the only reminder of the group of Soviet paratroopers was the grass compacted by their backs. I thoughtfully ran my hand over my bald head, sighed heavily and walked back to the stands. "What did they want?" Suo asked, still in the same Chinese dialect, when I sat down next to her and thoughtfully began to finger the beads of my rosary. "He wants to meet," I answered in the same language. "After the Battle. On your territory. In the settlement. He asks your permission to visit." "I see," Suo frowned. "Ban it?" "What's the point?" I objected. "If he's decided, he'll find me anyway. I've already agreed to the meeting." "Be careful," she took me by the elbow and pressed herself against my shoulder. "I will," I answered. Meanwhile, the Battle was beginning. The stands were filling with sentient beings, since calling many of them human would not only be incorrect but also impolite. An elderly "red" emerged with a young assistant. The assistant cast some spell, and the elderly man began to speak. His speech was magically amplified and translated into the native tongue of everyone in the valley. He congratulated everyone present on their successful arrival, declaring that only the best of the best, the strongest of the strong, and blah-blah-blah were present here... He reminded everyone of the grand prize amount and that all the "reds" present in the stands were accepting bets in any form of payment or currency, be it checks, cash, stones, metal, receipts, shells... Then they brought out a huge board, cast something on it and announced the start of the battle. But then a surprise awaited me. My nickname appeared on the board to the right. An elderly "red" announced that the organizers were asking the Champion of the previous tournament to honor them by opening the current tournament with his fight. This request put me in a very difficult position: on the one hand, I don't want to fight and could very well refuse, citing health issues or offering no explanation at all. But that could spell trouble in the long run when I least expect it. I'm well aware of the treachery of the "lizards" and the reach of their arms. On the other hand, by "doing the honor" of fighting this damned fight, even though I'd already declared my non-participation in the Battle, I was making them "obligated" to me. Clearly, this fight is far from simple, and one of the Externals is involved, and they could easily "ask" the "reds" for such a small favor. The only question is who exactly, since there are three of them here. And both of the fairer sexes in this unholy trinity glance at me every now and then. El Sabah Nur, the stronger sex, has no interest in me. At least outwardly, since he didn't glance in my direction even once. But that's no indication at all. Well, let's try playing by their rules. I unhooked Suo's hands from my elbow, squeezed hers reassuringly, and slowly moved down toward the Circle. The stands greeted my movement with lukewarm applause. The "Reds" in the Circle greeted me with a respectful bow. And then my opponent's name was announced. And with that name, I suddenly felt completely lost. The world shrank to the confines of the Circle, from which the "Reds" were already fleeing at full speed. "Romulus!" the elderly "Red" managed to shout before escaping, turning out to be quite the quick-witted fellow. My opponent, a six-foot-tall, bare-chested brute, was descending from the stands. I hadn't noticed him before, as I didn't recognize him by sight, and there's plenty of strange folk here. But now he's definitely not going to escape my attention. Romulus... A mutant about whom practically nothing is known for certain, except that he's one of the first mutants on Earth, older even than the Externals, and was once the Roman Emperor. Apparently, he also has a twin sister. But that's not the most important thing. The main thing is that this rather large, bestial-looking fellow has a healing factor and an adamantium skeleton with a set of four blades and a full set of claws on each hand. And a thousand years of experience in a far from peaceful life. Meanwhile, Uncle had already entered the Circle. I studied him closely, trying to figure out what he wanted, why he'd decided to confront me personally in the Arena, and at least roughly, roughly, estimate what to expect from him as an opponent in combat. Tall. Taller than me. Clearly heavier. Twice as heavy, in fact, as you can tell from the clear imprints of his feet on the packed surface of the platform, meaning his bones are already coated in adamantium. Broad-shouldered. Muscular. A literal mountain of muscle. His movements are smooth, predatory. Shaggy, gray. His gaze is heavy, oppressive, piercing. Well, perhaps things aren't as bad as they could be. He may move smoothly and economically, but he lacks the posture of a true Master. He lacks that relaxed uprightness, that "centered posture," that "muscle-hanging frame," and the muscles themselves: beautiful, lumpy, massive... superfluous. Masters don't have such muscles. The extra flesh gets in the way. So does the extra weight of his bones. The adamantium should make his blow heavier, but at the same time, his inertia should be greater. However, he must be taken with the utmost seriousness: his healing factor and indestructible skeleton are two factors that can offset any shortcomings in his technique and physique. And the blades... He only needs to swing once at my neck, taking off my head, to record himself a "game and set", leaving only the hope that after the fight they will dump me in a pit in one heap, and not two different ones. As for me... I have only one option to stop this death machine: working with internal energy and Qi techniques. Not killing it. I have nothing to kill it with here. Stop it. Qi... It's a problematic thing. For me. Well, there are no options, so it's all or nothing! I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, assumed the initial stance of the twenty-fourth form of Tai Chi Quan, smoothly dropping the prayer beads onto the sand, then, with the same speed, flowed into the qigong position and slowly exhaled with effort, clearing my thoughts, as if sweeping everything unnecessary out of my head, opening all the internal channels and driving through them that something called internal energy. When I opened my eyes, my gaze was again that of a child who had seen a rainbow, and a gentle, gentle smile of a Zen Buddhist monk played on my lips. "A pitiful sight," Romulus grimaced. "A herbivore... You! You are the son of the Lupine family! My family! Where is the predator in you?! There is no fire in your eyes!" I didn't answer. Somehow, everything else faded into the background. Everything became so... unimportant. I was filled with such serene calm and, at the same time, joyful lightness. Perhaps for the first time in my life, the outward image of a Zen monk's enlightenment completely corresponded to my inner state. Yet, the Circle didn't fade from my attention, nor did the mutant standing opposite me. On the contrary, the world around me seemed to slow down, and every movement seemed clearer, sharper, more distinct. In seventy years in the monastery, I hadn't managed to achieve such a state, even though for the last forty I'd been constantly feigning it, twenty-four hours a day, within the monastery walls, interacting with novices, Masters, and parishioners, revealing my true beastly nature only in the Arena and during occasional nighttime "escapes" to Suo. And then it came. And when it came, it literally overwhelmed me. "Twenty-time Champion... Ugh!" he spat loudly onto the sand. "It must have been a hundred years of weaklings fighting here, if this herbivorous wretch won... Abomination!" I heard his words, understood them, but they passed me by. They were unable to touch me. They had no power. I felt good. And I smiled. Romulus grimaced again as he looked at me. "Join me, and I will give you true power!" he clenched his fist in front of him. "I will teach you to be the predator you were born to be!" I remained balanced, both internally and externally, free of anger, rage, or aggression. My body was securely anchored, relaxed, and light as a feather. The only weight was in my core, locking the joint chains so that maintaining balance required no effort. Consequently, initiating any movement didn't require overcoming the resistance of statically loaded muscles, which significantly accelerated my reaction time. And within, there was a joyful peace. It was such an unusual state that I couldn't help but recall Morihei's smile. Perhaps, at that moment, mine even resembled his. But Romulus couldn't begin the fight. It's physically difficult to attack a man who lacks aggression and fear. All his strength, determination, and anger seem to flow around him. He can't get a hold. It's not the bullet that kills, but the thought, and here the thought can't be born. It must be excruciating. Disgruntled shouts, whistles, and jeers could be heard from the stands, but Romulus shifted from foot to foot, unable to attack. He turned irritably toward the stands and let out a loud growl. The stands quieted slightly, but the discontent persisted—it was no fun to watch such a "fight." No fun. And Romulus still wouldn't start. He just grew angry. And I… I felt good. It's such a strange state… We'd been standing there facing each other for about five minutes now. Romulus was furious, the stands were openly booing us, no longer reacting to any "explosions." But I felt good. It's a feeling that can't be described in words; it can only be felt for yourself. Romulus was the first to lose his temper. He spat at his feet and left. It's strange. Really very strange. I didn't feel disappointed, dissatisfied, or defeated, even though I was booed just as much as he was. I stood there for a while longer, wondering if he might decide to come back. But he didn't; he hadn't. I shrugged, picked up my rosary, and returned to my place next to my wife. "What was that just now?" she asked quietly in English. "Satori, enlightenment," I answered her, also quietly. "I think that's what the monks call it." "So, you've finally found Zen?" she asked. "No," I said, shaking my head slightly in a negative gesture, maintaining my "central column" posture; that strange lightness was in no hurry to leave me. "Zen is something else. But somewhere close." "It looked strange," she noted. – It felt even stranger. - Do you know him? Who was he? - A very dangerous mutant who will cause trouble, if not for me, then for Logan for sure. "Why?" Xavier eavesdropped on our conversation. "He's just like James and me, only much older. He wants to breed, raise, and clone a race just like us and enslave the world. I suspect he's simply gone mad over the millennia he's lived." "Older? Millennia?" Xavier asked, surprised. "More precisely?" – You just saw the first Roman Emperor, Romulus. Was that detailed enough? "Quite," Howlett chuckled. "You're unusually eloquent today," Suo giggled. "I guess I can't seem to recover from this moment of enlightenment," I shrugged indifferently. "I'm starting to lose interest here," I said, glancing briefly at the couple who had taken Romulus and me's place in the circle and were already brawling, realizing that it was true—it wasn't interesting. "Even so?" Suo was amazed. "You stay, and I'll go home, I think. I'll meditate..." "I'm with you," my wife jumped up from her seat, worried. Apparently, this was truly strange behavior for me, as was my state. We reached the house without incident. There weren't many passersby, as everyone was already at the Arena, and those we did encounter saw my gaze, my face, my slight, bright smile... and preferred to skirt around such a strange creature in a wide arc. Apparently they fear the strange ones even more than the scary ones. Funny. Concerned about my condition, Suo walked alongside me, every now and then looking anxiously into my face, but said nothing. I stopped at the house. I left my prayer beads on the threshold and began practicing tai chi, as that was precisely what I was in the mood for. Suo, with a mug of some kind of brew, sat down on the porch and continued to keep an eye on me with the same concern. From the Arena, I heard pops, heavy objects hitting the ground, and explosions. Several times, the flashes in that direction were so bright that the evening turned to daylight for seconds. Once, a head fell from the sky right at Suo's feet. Following it, a steel beam whistled past my ear—I think one of the two that held the scoreboard. About two hours later, the remaining survivors began to drift away from the Arena to their cabins and overnight campsites. Everyone was excited and chatting animatedly. I continued to perform slow and smooth wushu forms, receiving incomparable pleasure from it. Our companions returned, also animated, excited, and... battered. From Raven's face, from the way she glanced at her husband, from Eric's face, who was trying to suppress a smile, it was perfectly clear that his brother had finally made it into the Circle and proved that he was certainly "not the smallest frog in this swamp." Logan was also battered. And next to Xavier, a black girl with snow-white hair trotted along. After giving me a few strange looks, they proceeded into the house. An hour later, Selena arrived. She spoke with Suo, glancing at me periodically, and then left. ***Chapter 46