Rumble!
The sky over the Land of Rain had split open. Endless sheets of water poured down, turning the land into a boiling swamp.
A three-man Konoha squad trudged out of the storm like Shura climbing from a pool of blood, step by step toward the main camp.
At their head walked Ryo. His dark rain cloak clung tightly, outlining a lean, hard frame. His expression was unreadable, his eyes deep as an ancient well. The air around him, heavy with the scent of blood, felt cold enough to freeze the rain. His cloak was stained dark with dried and half-clotted crimson, some of it from their enemies, and some perhaps his own.
Half a step behind came Nawaki, stumbling, legs trembling. His brand-new chūnin vest had lost all color, now caked with mud, blood, and grass. His face was pale, lips bluish, eyes vacant as he muttered to himself, "Six… seven… damn it… they just keep coming…"
A little farther back walked Mikoto. She still tried to carry herself with a trace of composure, but her eyes were hollow, her pride ground down by the weight of reality. She moved silently, knuckles white on the handle of her kunai.
They had just crawled out of a cursed place known as Wailing Gorge. An S-rank escort mission "personally assigned" by Danzō, to deliver a batch of "special antiserum effective against salamander venom," along with strategic scrolls, through a kill zone claimed by both Ame and Suna.
The result: mission accomplished. The price: enough to break any sane mind.
Barely ten kilometers from camp, the first ambush came, three veteran jōnin leading a chūnin platoon from Suna. Their plan was simple, crush the escort and seize the supplies.
What greeted them was Ryo's blade.
A flash of light too fast to follow. Nawaki saw only a cold gleam before heads flew skyward, blood streaking through the rain. The elite of Sunagakure never even finished their grins before terror froze their faces.
Nawaki's blood surged, his hand shooting for his sword, but Ryo's glacial voice stopped him.
"Watch."
Then came three days of nightmare. Traps everywhere, poison mist drifting through the gorge, Rain's puppet squads striking from the shadows, Suna elites attacking in waves. Every victory brought another assault.
How many times did Nawaki think he was dead? He lost count. Mud sucking at his legs as a Suna kunai lunged for his chest, a poisoned blade grazing his throat, three Ame-nin cornering him on a narrow ledge.
And every time, that figure appeared. Swift as a shadow, unshaken by chaos. The Kusanagi would flash, knocking away killing strikes by a hair's breadth, or Ryo would step between blows with impossible precision, ending two lives in the same instant.
Nawaki could only watch, stunned. No wasted motion, no flair, only pure efficiency. Draw, thrust, cut, advance. Movements beyond normal reaction, pure killing instinct refined to perfection. Not ninjutsu, but body and mind honed past human limits.
His worldview shattered. "Jōnin"? "Technique"? All meaningless against Ryo's speed. The Senju blood he'd been proud of, his new rank, all crushed to dust. He finally understood what a real difference in class meant. He wasn't a hero, just a burden Ryo had to keep protecting.
Mikoto fared no better. She clung to her Uchiha pride, activating her Sharingan, weaving signs, reading movement. But every time her eyes caught an enemy's attack, Ryo had already ended it before she could react. Against his speed, even her pupil power felt useless.
The gorge was a purgatory of shredded limbs, mangled bodies, and blood mixing with rain. Each time Ryo stepped past a corpse he had just cut down, the wound still gushing, an eye bursting under his heel, Mikoto's heart twisted between fear, awe, and something darker she couldn't name.
Was this really the quiet boy from the Academy, the one who once seemed invisible?
Three people forced their way through Wailing Gorge.
Mission completion: 100%. Supplies delivered intact.
The cost: Nawaki's spirit fractured, mind on the edge of collapse. Mikoto's pride crushed beneath the weight of war. And Ryo, soaked in blood, unchanged. To him, this was normal.
The main camp loomed ahead, a muddy square lined with broken barricades and stretcher tracks. Sentries straightened when they saw the three figures approach, fear and awe flickering in their eyes.
Their name had already spread through the ranks, the "Shura Squad." Their leader, Ryo, whispered of as "The Blade."
Their tent stood in a cold, damp corner of camp. Nawaki stumbled inside and collapsed onto a cot, half-dead. Mikoto sat down, wordless, wiping her weapons with mechanical precision.
Ryo didn't sit. He pushed back his hood, rain dripping from his red hair, dried blood streaking his face. He stood at the tent flap, gaze fixed on the storm outside, his thoughts elsewhere.
---
Main Command Tent, Camp Center
The air was thick and heavy. Incense smoke drifted through the damp canvas.
By lamplight, Danzō's face was half-buried in shadow. A faint gleam lit his single eye as he studied a map.
"Tch." He clicked his tongue. A masked Root operative appeared and bowed, handing him a blood-stained report.
Danzō read quickly. Two Suna jōnin dead, six chūnin eliminated, four Ame puppet squads destroyed, supplies delivered intact.
"Hmph. As expected." His lips curved faintly, satisfaction mixing with wariness.
Ryo's sharpness had surpassed all estimates. For days, Danzō had worked the team like beasts of burden, sending them on suicidal assignments, deep raids, infiltration strikes, high-risk ambushes. Yet every time, they returned covered in blood but victorious.
Each success added weight to Danzō's calculations. The Kusanagi's power, Ryo's monstrous instincts, his unmatched killing efficiency, all perfect for the battlefield of Ame.
As long as he kept that knife in hand and let it cut down enemies for him, Danzō's ambitions could continue to rise.
The problem was simple. The knife was too sharp, and it refused to obey.
He remembered that "meeting" days ago. His carefully prepared setting, his rhetoric, his authority, all dismissed with a single cold line.
"I'll handle it myself. Anyone who gets in my way, I'll cut."
Even now, Danzō could still feel the chill of that gaze. In that instant, he had known Ryo could kill him without hesitation.
"Genius or monster," he muttered. "Either way, a blade that won't bend is a threat."
Still, not one he could afford to break yet.
He sealed the payout for Ryo's squad without deduction, even marking it A-rank.
Not out of generosity. He knew if he skimmed a single coin, Ryo would storm the tent with his sword to "discuss payment." The boy's greed for mission rewards matched his skill in killing. Best not to provoke him over money. There were subtler ways to control him later.
"Danzō-sama! Front line, urgent!"
A drenched messenger burst in, panting hard. "Emergency! Encrypted Anbu signal from B-7 High Ground! Orochimaru-sama requests immediate support!"
"Explain! Who sent it? What's the situation?" Danzō snapped.
The runner gasped out, "Signal confirmed. Jiraiya, Orochimaru, and Tsunade, joint distress call! Large-scale Iwa ambush! They're surrounded on three fronts, with massive rock-type summons in play!"
"Iwa-nin?!" a strategist exclaimed. "How did they get through undetected?!"
Danzō's face hardened. So that was it. Iwa had stayed quiet at their border, biding time, shifting elites into Ame. Waiting until Konoha and Suna were exhausted, then stabbing straight for the heart.
This was no longer "Konoha versus Ame" or "Konoha versus Suna." It was a three-way slaughter, Konoha, Suna, and Iwa tearing Ame apart and each other with it.
Hanzō of Amegakure, the so-called "demigod," had long since fallen from his pedestal. His salamander venom and lone power meant nothing now. All he could do was cling to survival and drive the invaders from what was left of his land.
The board was chaos.
Konoha and Suna tore at each other publicly while secretly fighting to control Ame. Suna wanted a path into Fire Country, and Konoha wanted to stop them. Ame, trapped in the middle, fought back with poison, ambush, and desperation.
And now Iwa had entered the field with one goal, kill the Legendary Three and cripple Konoha's morale.
"Useless, all of you!" Danzō slammed his hand on the table, wood creaking. "An Iwa force big enough to trap the Three, and Root didn't see it coming?!"
His mind raced. Orochimaru's unit pinned, the front collapsing. Reinforcements from Fire Country were days away. Camp reserves, too weak.
Then a single name cut through his thoughts like a blade.
His gaze turned toward the camp's edge.
There was only one person who could cut through Iwa's ring and bring the Three back alive.
A monster.
"Orders!" Danzō's voice sliced through the tent. "Level-three emergency protocol!"
His eyes swept across the room, sharp and cold.
"Ryo Squad, to the command tent. Now."
He paused, a crooked smile twisting his lips.
"Main camp, full mobilization. Target: B-7 Cliff. The Three are pinned. Ryo Squad leads the charge. Ten minutes to departure. Bring Tsunade, Orochimaru, and Jiraiya back alive."
The camp erupted.
Back in the outer tents, Nawaki startled at the sudden alarm, nearly falling from his cot. "W-what's happening now…?"
Ryo stood unmoving at the flap. When Danzō's order echoed through the camp, something flickered in his eyes.
B-7. Iwa.
He lowered his head, rain dripping from his bangs. After a long moment, he lifted it again, his expression carved from stone.
His hand tightened on the Kusanagi's hilt.
"Stay here," he said quietly. "I'll go cut."
The last word fell heavy in the air.
(To be continued.)
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◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
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