A total of eight ninja academy students participated in the symbiosis project experiment.
All eight survived.
The Earth Grudge Symbiote had altered their bodies in various ways. Some changes were expected, but Mufasa was particularly impressed with Rakkan's transformation today.
Surviving after being pierced through the heart?
What kind of ability was this?
Mufasa had Rakkan turn around before him, inspecting him closely.
Was he an undead warrior?
Compared to this, even the power of the so-Jashin god seemed insignificant before technology.
After praising Rakkan, Mufasa dismissed him. The project was progressing smoothly. The second-generation symbiont's resentment had evolved yet again.
With that in mind, the research institute planned to extract the second-generation symbiont, Di Yuanyu, from his body and use it as a base to develop third and fourth generations.
Beyond research, this development had practical applications. In time, an army of undead ninja could be created. Imagine, every soldier capable of opening the Eight Gates in battle. Even someone like Uchiha Madara wouldn't stand a chance against such overwhelming force.
As for flight? Well, among all his abilities, that was the least useful to Mufasa's ninja army. Other techniques at least dealt some damage, but what use was flying? Even that Hidan needs to drink his opponent's blood to activate his technique. Fortunately, he ran fast. Otherwise, if caught, he'd be looking at a life sentence in a labor camp.
The distant explosions slowly faded.
No matter how powerful a blade was—even a chakra-enhanced katana—it was still useless against machine guns, tanks, cannons, and drones.
Once the battlefield quieted, Mufasa patrolled the area, accompanied by a waking Kabuto.
Looking at the scattered limbs and broken bodies littering the battlefield, Mufasa shook his head and sighed.
"=(--*) Alas."
Kabuto furrowed his brows. "My lord, why sigh? Our forces suffered injuries, but no one died."
Mufasa gestured toward the corpses around them, regret flickering in his eyes. "These people shouldn't have died. Look at them—young, strong. They could've been useful prisoners in the labor camps."
Kabuto glanced at him, expression unreadable. (→_→)
For the sake of appearances, some things were best left unsaid.
A ten-day ultimatum was given to the Land of Rivers. Officially, it was under the pretense that Sunagakure upheld justice and would not conduct a sneak attack, giving civilians time to evacuate.
In truth, Mufasa had a different plan. Why waste the opportunity to let Momonosuke bring more people?
Momonosuke had argued that eliminating the enemy would be simple. Mufasa could fly to Kawasaki Town, kill him, and be done with it.
But a true villain wouldn't waste such a perfect opportunity for the greater cause of Sunagakure. Why kill him outright when he could be useful?
If Mufasa handled Momonosuke himself, then all the major projects—the East Water Diversion Project, the Wind River Fire Highway, and the railway expansions—would fall on Sunagakure alone.
Massive undertakings.
Countless resources and manpower needed.
But the Land of Rivers was filled with able-bodied people. Why not make use of them?
The more people Momonosuke rallied, the more war criminals Mufasa could capture.
Back in the day, war criminals dug potatoes in Siberia.
Now, they'd be digging ditches in the Land of Rivers.
No wages needed—just two bowls of rice a day.
In times of war, criminals had no rights. Wasn't it beautiful?
Seeing so many potential laborers die here was truly upsetting.
"What is the most valuable resource in the ninja world?" Mufasa muttered, eyes darkening. "People."
Damn it.
"Why don't they cherish their own lives? Is digging a ditch for me really that unbearable?"
Turning to Kabuto, Mufasa asked, "Did your 'children' report anything?"
The individuals controlled by Kabuto were referred to as 'children.'
Kabuto nodded. "Yes. Orders came directly from Kawasaki—to delay us at all costs. They were paid handsomely."
Mufasa narrowed his eyes. "Why delay us? Some kind of conspiracy?"
Kabuto shook his head. "The children don't know yet."
"Then let them loose," Mufasa ordered. "Find out."
"Understood."
After clearing the battlefield, the Sand Ninja army pressed forward.
Their progress was slow. The Land of Rivers was filled with obstacles—rivers, ditches, and mud that hindered their mechanized forces. Every few steps, they had to stop to reinforce the ground, fill in rivers, or build bridges.
Gaara grew increasingly frustrated.
"Sensei," he said, voice tinged with impatience. "Why not let a few of us fly to Kawasaki and eliminate their team directly?"
Mufasa had recently granted Gaara a powerful new ability, and Gaara was feeling invincible.
Other squad leaders shared his sentiment.
Mufasa's expression turned serious. "Let's not indulge in personal heroism. If a few of us handle everything, what purpose does the ninja army serve?"
He gestured toward the soldiers, working tirelessly to repair roads and shouting slogans.
"This is a test for them. If they can't even handle this, how can they be entrusted with protecting the village and the nation in the future?"
As the troops continued, they carved out roads as they went. If they maintained this pace, the foundation for future infrastructure would already be in place.
Mufasa chuckled to himself.
It was like students waking up for class—hit the alarm ten times, and they still wouldn't get up.
Tell them they can play all night, and suddenly, they have endless energy.
The same principle applied to his ninja army. Tell them to dig ditches for no reason, and they'd resist. But say it's for war, and suddenly, they'd pick up tanks and charge forward.
War criminals were meant to be squeezed dry.
His own people? They had a different role to play.
"Young ones," Mufasa said, watching his forces with satisfaction. "Wield your shovels with pride! The Sand Ninja Army is not just an expedition team. It's a road repair team! You will destroy the old road and pave a new one!"
Mufasa was not a heartless leader.
That afternoon, the march halted, and the troops began setting up camp. They built a separate area for prisoners of war, following standard procedures. Today had been an average day, though the initial excitement of battle had led to a bit of overkill—literally.
By the end of it, more than 200 prisoners had been taken.
Mufasa did not look pleased.
"The ninja world has a small population as it is, and we already have so many orphans running around. This kind of brutality isn't helping. From now on, capture them alive whenever possible."
Some of the soldiers exchanged confused looks.
"But what if they resist? What if they come at us with blades?" one of them asked.
Mufasa scoffed. "Then break their hands. No hands, no resistance. Simple."
The idea of enemy shinobi running around with prosthetic arms in the future, possibly becoming even stronger, briefly crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. For now, minimizing casualties was the priority.
Because of this shift in tactics, the Sand Ninja Army slowly gained an unexpected reputation as the most merciful force in the ninja world.
They maimed, but they didn't kill. Over time, this led to fewer orphaned children seeking vengeance, a long-term benefit to stability.
They also formalized their rules of war—civilians were to be left alone, property untouched. Their marching routes and camps were planned to avoid towns and villages entirely.
With their storage scrolls filled with food, water, and supplies, there was no need to raid settlements.
As for Kabuto's so-called plan to ambush the supply line, it was laughable.
"Supply line?" Mufasa snorted. "There is no supply line. What are they even attacking? Idiots."
Nightfall
As the sun set, Mufasa took Sasuke and Gaara down to the riverbank near the camp to fish. Nearby, the prisoner-of-war camp stood, guarded by two familiar figures.
Mufasa recognized them instantly.
"Oh? It's you two again," he chuckled. "Looks like I'm putting you on guard duty once more."
This time, however, the captain had already briefed them. They stood at their posts, swords in hand, their expressions unreadable.
Then, movement.
A prisoner attempted to slip out under the cover of darkness. He had orders from his superior to scout the situation. The man had unwavering loyalty, so much so that if his leader had ordered him to commit suicide, he would have done so without hesitation.
He walked toward the gate, eyes locked on the guards.
They didn't move.
He cautiously stepped past them, analyzing their every twitch, but they remained motionless.
Satou, one of the guards, watched the man's slow approach. His mechanical prosthetic eye glowed faintly, irritation evident on his face. His partner, Jiro, barely contained his frustration, his jaw twitching.
"Damn it," Jiro muttered under his breath. "If you're gonna go, just go. Why the hesitation?"
The moment the prisoner sensed their suppressed killing intent, he bolted.
Only then did the two guards relax, releasing the grips on their swords.
Another prisoner emerged.
Satuo exhaled and said to Jiro, "Calm down. Remember, we're in charge of city security now. If we're gonna handle civilian affairs in the future, we need patience."
This was Mufasa's plan—building an administrative force that could eventually manage occupied territories, specifically Kawasaki Town, the central trade hub of the Land of River.
The team was composed of battle-hardened ninjas transitioning into civil enforcement. They were responsible for the prisoners now, but later, they would be keeping the peace in a major city.
For now, they swallowed their frustration and let the escapees go one by one, knowing they weren't a real threat.
The Next Morning
As the army resumed their march along the river, sporadic enemy skirmishes attempted to slow them down. Each was swiftly dealt with.
Mufasa mused, "Looks like they finally realized small raids won't work on us."
His satisfaction didn't last long.
By midday, the entire convoy came to an abrupt halt.
Mufasa, roused from his nap, rubbed his eyes. "What now?"
Gaara's face was grim. "You need to see this, sensei."
Mufasa leapt up and scanned the path ahead.
His breath hitched.
A massive crowd stood blocking their way.
Thousands of people—old men with white hair, snot-nosed children, even pregnant women with swollen bellies—stood shoulder to shoulder, refusing to move.
Mufasa frowned. "The hell? Why do they look like Momo—wait. This makes no sense."
He had personally investigated the situation in the the Land of River.
Their so-called leader, Momonosuke, was despised.
He was so corrupt, even stray dogs avoided him.
So why were these people standing in his defense?
For the first time, Mufasa found himself hesitating.
"Damn it," he muttered. "This is a problem."
Gaara wasted no time. He grabbed a speaker and amplified his voice.
"Move aside!" his voice boomed. "Or we will treat you as the enemy. You will all be slaughtered."
To emphasize the point, tanks rolled forward, their massive barrels lowering to aim at the blockade.
The civilians panicked.
Crying erupted from all directions. Old men trembled, children clung to their mothers, and women sobbed. But not a single one of them moved. If anything, they stood even closer together.
Mufasa exhaled slowly.
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Word count: 1833
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