"What are you thinking about?"
Kakashi noticed that Logan had been deep in thought the whole way.
"I'm wondering why these cultists are killing people."
Shizune, who was cuddling the little piglet, tilted her head, thought for a moment, and replied, "Cultists... are crazy. What else could it be? They're just insane, right?"
"They might be insane," Logan said, "but madmen aren't fools. Even lunatics follow their own twisted logic."
"They kill either to satisfy a sick desire—that's for emotional release—or they kill as part of a ritual, to fulfill some ideal."
"Since they call themselves the 'Evil God Cult,' I'm inclined to believe it's the latter. They've mastered some kind of remote killing technique—curses, most likely. And that power seems to serve their rituals. Meaning..."
Logan paused. "The more people they kill, the stronger their ritual becomes."
Tsunade pointed at the wound on her chest that was still healing and reopening with every breath. "And this isn't strong enough for them?"
Logan shook his head.
"They only seem able to inflict curses once they've made physical contact."
"We were all close to you, Tsunade, when the curse hit. But none of us—Kakashi, Shizune, or myself—were affected. That likely means they need a medium to curse someone."
Tsunade frowned, having already considered that. But before the fight with the cultists that day, she had been drunk and vomiting. Then she bled during battle. And afterward, she spat in the direction the cultists had fled.
Any of those could've been used as a medium.
But which one? She laughed awkwardly. "I... really couldn't say."
"What do you mean by 'getting stronger'?" Kakashi asked.
Logan responded, "Think of it like this: you don't even need to meet someone. If you know their face and name, write it in a notebook, and boom—dead. That kind of power."
The other three, including the pig, stared at him wide-eyed.
Logan waved his hand. "Just speculation. Don't take it too seriously. I just believe these killings serve a purpose."
And that purpose seemed to revolve around life energy.
Young people were being targeted. Tsunade, despite constant injuries, survived—barely—each time. The pattern was too clear.
"What does the Evil God Cult plan to do with all this absorbed life force?"
"I can't take it anymore," Tsunade groaned suddenly, interrupting Logan's thoughts.
They'd been walking since afternoon, and now it was night. The others were holding up fine, but Tsunade's body was at its limit. Even with Katsuyu healing her, the constant excruciating pain was enough to drive anyone mad.
She needed rest.
---
"They've gone to a hot spring inn."
"Tsunade and her group checked into a spa hotel. She brought the pig, and Hatake Kakashi entered the men's bath—still carrying that perverted book 'Make-Out Paradise.'"
"Logan left the hotel alone."
The Left and Right Protectors and the Saint gathered in secret, exchanging intel and finalizing their plan.
"I'll handle Kakashi," said the Saint.
She smirked. "It's just a porn novel, right? A little seduction and I can get close enough to draw his blood."
The Left Protector nodded. "Then the two of us will take care of Logan. He's said to be a dangerous criminal, but also kind to children. We'll disguise ourselves as kids and try to extract his blood that way."
They looked at each other, eyes sharp with conviction, and clasped hands solemnly.
> "The body is empty, death returns home."
The Protectors left in opposite directions, leaving the Saint alone.
She sneaked into the hot spring hotel and easily stole a staff uniform.
Later, when Kakashi had finished bathing, there was a knock at his door.
"Sir, a man named Logan scheduled a massage for you. May I come in?"
Kakashi, relaxing under the electric fan, blinked. Then the door cracked open. A pink, bare foot stepped into view—slender ankle, perfectly shaped calf, and above that...
He couldn't see further.
The Saint smiled sweetly. Kakashi scratched his head. "Logan's being awfully considerate…"
"Well, far be it from me to refuse hospitality."
He lay down on the bed.
The Saint knelt beside him. A faint lily scent drifted into the air—subtle, yet intoxicating.
She tied up her long hair with a ribbon and whispered, "I'll begin."
Kakashi hummed in response and closed his eyes, breathing in her scent again, as if savoring it.
"You really are a pervert," the Saint whispered—not with disgust, but with a hint of pity.
"Poor man… caught between life and lust. Hatake Kakashi, rest now. I'll give you the peace of death."
She slipped a tiny needle into her palm.
This wasn't an ordinary needle. It was a special blood-drawing tool forged by the Evil God Cult—ultra-thin, coated in anesthetic. The prick was lighter than a mosquito bite.
On a normal day, he might have noticed. But during a massage?
Not a chance.
Head-to-head, the Saint couldn't defeat Kakashi. But assassination and combat were two different things.
After several minutes of casual massage, the needle slipped into Kakashi's back. A drop of blood was extracted.
Kakashi didn't stir.
The Saint smiled.
Soon, her task would be complete, and Kakashi would be a dead man walking.
> "I wonder how the others are doing..."
---
Logan wandered the busy night market. Vendors on both sides shouted enthusiastically, hawking local goods. He strolled like a tourist looking for souvenirs.
Despite recent murders, many tourists still roamed the area. Most weren't scared by a one-in-ten-thousand chance of danger.
"Brother, buy some flowers?"
Two children with headscarves approached him, holding bouquets of roses.
In truth, they were the Left and Right Protectors, disguised using their cult's secret techniques. Seeing Logan about to decline, they quickly played their rehearsed lines:
"Big bro, we haven't eaten today. Please buy one so we can get food."
Logan reached for his wallet. The two Protectors exchanged delighted glances and handed him a rose.
The stems had sharp thorns. Naturally, touching them would cause tiny pricks.
The Left Protector slipped a blood-drawing needle among the thorns and jabbed it into the back of Logan's hand.
Click.
Blood—collected.
Behind the childlike facade, cold eyes studied Logan.
> "So this is the infamous Logan? Hah. He's nothing."
> "From this moment, he's dead."
The two vanished into the crowd, disappearing like mist.
Logan stood in place, rose in hand, watching their silhouettes disappear.
---
Suddenly, bells rang across the town.
Locals turned to the clock tower.
"That's strange. Why is the bell ringing now? It's not even the hour."
Back at the inn, the Saint heard the signal and smiled.
Three rings.
It meant her comrades had successfully obtained Logan's blood.
"Guest, time's up. Shall I take my leave?"
Just as she began to rise, Kakashi grabbed her wrist.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked calmly.
"It's just a job," the Saint replied flatly.
Kakashi didn't release her. "I thought you were going to say something like... your dad's a gambling addict, your mom's sick, and your brother needs tuition money."
She smirked. "Don't be silly. Who would have such a melodramatic life?"
"Yeah… but then again—" Kakashi pushed up his forehead protector, revealing his spinning Sharingan.
"—why become a cultist unless your life really is that tragic?"
The Saint's eyes widened. Busted.
She instantly shoved the blood vial into her mouth and bit down. Kakashi's blood flowed in.
At the same time, she discarded her clothing, which formed a ritual pattern as it fell.
Drawing a dagger from her waist, she aimed for her heart.
But her hand froze.
Her body wouldn't move.
She stared at the Sharingan.
> "Sharingan...!"
"When did you see through me?" she croaked.
"You smell like lilies," Kakashi said casually. "But this inn grows lilacs. So you're not staff."
He rolled his shoulder. "Also, your massage technique sucks."
The Saint fell silent, then laughed bitterly.
"Even if you catch me... it's too late."
"My companions succeeded. Logan will die soon."
---
At an abandoned warehouse, the Left and Right Protectors arrived with Logan's blood. A fanatic cultist was already waiting, painted in black and white, kneeling in a magic circle.
The Left Protector handed over the vial.
"Congratulations. You're going home."
"Yes. I await the Evil God's embrace."
The cultist opened the vial and poured the drop of blood into his mouth.
He grinned wide—then froze.
BOOM!
The warehouse shook. Blood exploded from the cultist's eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. His body thudded to the ground.
"W-What happened!?"
"Why did he die!?"
The Left Protector had seen it—just barely.
The drop of blood had come alive. It pierced upward through the cultist's skull—and exploded.
The Left Protector's entire body went cold.
> "What... what the hell is Logan?"
> "No. He's beyond a monster."
> "He's... evil."
He took a shaky step backward—and bumped into someone.
A faint scent of roses filled the air.
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