"It's your turn!"
After Raizen dispatched the bandit leader with ruthless precision, he turned his gaze toward the remaining four. The moment they saw him, a scream tore from their throats, and they bolted. Terror had frozen them—one move had toppled their boss, and the sheer shock erased any thought of resistance.
"Don't even think about running!" Raizen muttered, though there was no real intent to spare them. He moved like a shadow, striking down the remaining four with lethal efficiency. Within minutes, all five bandits lay still. Raizen's body was untouched, yet the air around him hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood.
"Problem solved." He leapt down from the canyon, landing in front of Khaki, the merchant.
"You… you're okay?" Khaki asked, noticing the faint shimmer of red in the air and the strong metallic smell that seemed to radiate from Raizen himself. Did this boy really kill five men in a few minutes? Horror flickered across Khaki's face, but he forced himself to stay calm, waved the caravan forward, and said nothing more.
One of the guards, who had earlier mocked Raizen's youth, stepped closer to gawk—but the stench of blood hit him like a punch to the gut. He froze, eyes widening, steps faltering. Raizen only gave a small, amused smile and ignored him, slipping back into position as the convoy continued.
The guard exhaled shakily. Ninjas really weren't human. Ordinary people simply didn't compare. His earlier arrogance melted into awe.
As the convoy crept through the canyon, the crimson streaks on the rocks above were a stark reminder of Raizen's deadly efficiency. Even the other guards, however dull, couldn't miss the signs. Respect—and fear—settled over the group like a cloak.
Unknown to Raizen, two dozen more bandits lay in ambush at the canyon's exit, awaiting their leader's signal. Of course, they had no idea their boss had already been beheaded by a single, five-year-old ninja.
Beyond the canyon, the road stretched onward, the convoy now a third of the way toward the city. For two days, they met no obstacles—but then they approached a dense jungle. Calm and serene on the surface, the leaves drifting lazily in the breeze, the forest seemed harmless. To ordinary travelers, it whispered peace. To a ninja, it screamed of lurking danger.
Raizen's sixth sense flared. The jungle carried a hint of imminent threat. He tightened his grip on the reins, eyes scanning for subtle signs.
"Found it!"
A teenager with beige hair, perched atop a large tree at the edge of the jungle, whispered, signaling another hidden figure. A clicking sound answered him—silent communication between trained killers.
So it begins.
Raizen didn't move to stop the convoy—he couldn't yet identify the danger—but his vigilance sharpened to a blade's edge. Crises always struck the unprepared first.
"The enemy is cautious. No choice… time to strike!"
A dark shadow detached from the tree line, gliding silently through the foliage toward Raizen. Hidden by the trees, the figure advanced, hand poised, body melding seamlessly with the jungle. The trap had begun—and Raizen was ready.