As the modified pickup truck rumbled over the cracked, sun-bleached dirt road, its tires kicking up clouds of dry dust in their wake, the sense of unease that had lingered earlier had now shifted into a tense anticipation. Shiro, ever the analytical mind, sat in the passenger seat with one leg tucked beneath her, the other lightly bouncing as she navigated the new features of the system window now floating in her vision like a holographic interface.
Despite the dry heat and past traumatic experiences, she looked oddly upbeat and… intrigued.
"I see… a bloodline system, huh?" she murmured, lips curling into a curious smile. "Looks like it carried over to me, too. That's new. This system is crazy user-friendly…"
She swiped through the several new menus with ease, her golden eyes flicking rapidly across rows of cascading stats and labels. Her expression became increasingly animated as the numbers started to paint a clearer picture of her current abilities.
"I've got six Dragon Bloodline points… and eight High-Human. Interesting," she noted, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what it'll unlock when I hit the first tier-up milestone. Maybe some elemental affinity, or…" her voice trailed off as she leaned back in her seat and whistled softly.
Guldrin kept his eyes on the road, but he smiled. He could feel the energy in her voice shift, the telltale signs of his lovable stats junkie.
"Holy," Shiro said at last, her brows shooting up. "Guess all that torture, and training, and then more torture really paid off. I mean, I knew we were stronger, but these stats… they're nearly double what we had when we came back from the zombie world."
"Yup, my thoughts exactly." Guldrin replied with a satisfied nod, "If you look, you've got ten spare points to assign. I've got fifteen, since I didn't use them after the last level up. But I plan on holding onto mine for now. If we can gain more just through effort, then there's no point spending them prematurely. Better to save them until we hit a real wall."
Shiro nodded thoughtfully. "Agreed. We have, and are already improving daily just from our training. Best not to waste what's essentially a wildcard stat boost when we're still ascending naturally."
Guldrin nodded and scoffed, "Can you even call the Hell Danzo put us through, 'Natural?' But regardless, I am confident not all our increases came from that…"
Their conversation tapered off as they both turned their attention to the horizon, where a plume of black smoke rose faintly in the distance, curling against the pale sky
"Well," Guldrin said with a sigh, "looks like we've found the town."
"About time," Shiro muttered, swiping her interface away with a flick of her fingers. "Let's see how sketchy it is."
The truck slowed to a crawl before coming to a complete stop. The road had remained eerily vacant the entire trip, no other travelers, no wildlife, not even the buzzing of flies. It was almost too perfect. A path opened just for them. Not that they were complaining. It cut their travel time to a fraction of what it could have been, and they'd remained unbothered. It was a win-win situation in their book.
Still, no one dared to question the convenient silence aloud.
"This is as far as we go," Guldrin said, killing the engine. "If we're lucky, this is the last stretch before things get complicated."
Without hesitation, everyone began to disembark. The moment Guldrin stepped away, he casually gestured behind him, and with a soft shimmer, the truck vanished, neatly stored away in whatever dimensional pocket he'd designated for it previously.
"I still can't get used to that," Shizune muttered, brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.
Ino replied, "You and me both," her eyes narrowing as she looked ahead at the smoke.
As he adjusted the fit of his black cloak over his hoodie, Guldrin remarked, "If we walk at a decent pace, we're maybe fifteen minutes from the edge of town. But before we go in, I need intel. Anyone who's been here before, now's your chance to speak up. I want to know about the area we're going to be going into, any security, what kind of people live there, what the local customs are, any crime groups we should be aware of, slums, black markets, and so on. Anything that'll help us blend in as we find a ship to take us where we need to go."
He paused, then smirked. "Also, if anyone knows of a likely candidate for our first believer of the All-Seeing Eye… that'd be a bonus. I'm not exactly calling it a cult, but let's be real, it's totally a cult. Or a religion. A movement? Whatever it is, getting some traction with the locals could help move our larger plans along."
Tsunade remained silent, brow furrowed in deep thought. Shizune mirrored her mentor's quiet concern, clearly trying to recall any relevant details. Schnee shook her head, her world knowledge useless here. Shiro simply shrugged. She may have watched the anime, but this world might be different, and not much was said about this place in the show.
That left the former Root agent.
Ino opened her mouth once, hesitated, and then, seeing no one else ready to take the lead, she cleared her throat.
"Alright. I've been here before, a couple of years ago. Just once, when a senior Root brought me along to extract information. I was young, but I remember the essentials. This town is technically a port city, used to be pretty lively, but now it's… well, think of it as a feeding ground for parasites."
"Lovely," Guldrin muttered.
"Criminal organizations run most of it from the shadows, but honestly, they don't even bother hiding anymore. Extortion rings, slave markets, rogue ninja acting as mercenaries, drug production, you name it, they have a hand in it."
Shiro's expression darkened. "And the officials?"
"Corrupt," Ino replied simply. "Nearly all of them. Most of the higher-ups are either directly involved with or paid off by the criminal outfits. Danzo knew. Hell, he probably encouraged it. The weaker the town's structure, the easier it is to manipulate from behind the scenes. That's always been his style, let the chaos fester so he could swoop in later under the guise of control."
Tsunade finally spoke. "If Danzo had anything to do with it, then we should expect more than just petty thugs. He had an eye for building power bases through misery. He liked using places like this to 'test' potential weapons under the guise of support. Likewise, he and Sensei had that in common, that's most of the reason I left… Amongst other reasons…"
"Oh, another thing," Ino added. "There's a massive orphan population. A lot of abandoned kids, many of them forcibly recruited by gangs or worse. If we want a foothold, helping the oppressed would be the way to go. That, or disrupting the criminal trade, though that'll paint a target on us fast. Lor-" She paused, catching herself falling into old habits. "Danzo uses this place as a resupply of Root ninja; when an orphan is known to have chakra, he swoops in and takes them for his Root."
Guldrin was already running through plans in his mind. Disruption was inevitable. If they wanted influence, they'd have to break a few bones. Symbolically or otherwise. It would inevitably piss off Danzo, but that was the least of his concerns at the moment.
"What about the slums?" he asked.
"Three major ones," Ino replied. "One near the docks, one just outside the trade district, and one that's practically a ghost town at the edge of the walls. That last area is where the poorest live, if you can call it living."
Shiro looked over at Guldrin. "That sounds like a great place to make a splash."
He nodded. "First impressions matter. Say we fed the slums… That would draw all attention toward us, a double-edged blade, but it would also force the cockroaches to scurry around."
As they continued toward the town on foot, the stench hit them first; it was an acrid blend of sea salt, smoke, and rot. The kind of scent that clung to your clothes, seeped into your pores, and made your eyes sting.
When the buildings, which were made of broken wood and rusted metal and leaned against each other like drunk people on the street, came into view, it was clear how far the town had fallen.
"To be clear, we are entering from the lower slums. Don't get the wrong idea, it gets worse further in." Ino spoke, causing Guldrin to scowl in disgust.
People watched from behind broken windows, shuttered, cracked, and spider-webbed with age and neglect. Some peered through warped slats in warped doors. Most just stayed hidden, eyes like ghosts, hollow with fear, suspicion, and resignation. This place had been broken long ago, and no one had bothered to try to fix it. You could feel it in the air; it was an oppressive weight of despair and reluctant acceptance that lingered everywhere.
Children darted from view as the group passed. A bare-footed, malnourished teen disappearing into an alley, a splash in a puddle, a shadow flickering past a collapsed market stall. Just silence and the occasional murmur from worn-down homes, voices muffled and uncertain. Even the sky above seemed less colorful here.
Guards, or at least something that resembled guards, most likely thugs, brutes, and enforcers, lounged on overturned crates and stood haphazardly on corners. Most had mismatched armor pieces, like they had stolen gear from corpses or plucked it off the local criminal fence. Some wore the headbands of missing-nin, scratched or half-melted. Their weapons sat lazily across their laps or leaned against the wall behind them, as if combat was a chore they'd get to when they felt like it.
"No discipline, no training, disappointing, but it makes our job easier. I don't know why, but seeing the neglect of their weapons… It erks me a bit more than I feel it should."
Schnee glanced at him, the faintest of smiles appeared and disappeared just as fast as she sent him a mental message, 'You have inherited my master's will, just wearing that pendant is enough to influence your mindset. Seeing how you spent the whole night forging, that effect has seeped into your very essence by now.'
Guldrin just tilted his head in thought and filed that away for future consideration as he continued to observe his surroundings.
The local rabble laughed, loud and obnoxiously, as dice clattered on broken tabletops. A scrawny teen stood nearby, watching them with big eyes and empty hands, probably hoping to earn a few scraps for errands or messages. The guards ignored him. Or maybe they didn't. Either way, they didn't care.
And then, cutting through the background noise and lifeless atmosphere like a blade, came a voice.
"Please! Help! Someone, please, he's going to kill my sis– brother!"
The contradiction in her words was obvious, slightly jarring, but utterly irrelevant. The urgency, the desperation, it hit like a punch to the gut. Everyone from their group turned at once, eyes narrowing.
A little girl had burst into the street from a narrow alley. She looked like she'd crawled through ten miles of filth to get here; her face was smeared with dirt and tears, her hair matted into oily clumps, her clothes little more than rags. Her tiny chest heaved with exhaustion and terror.
Before anyone could react, a screen with two choices appeared in Guldrin's mind,
"Ding, Bloodline choice detected, choices are as follows:"
Ignore the girl and keep walking. Reward: 1 Devil point.Save the girl and her sister without taking a life. Reward: 3 Angel Points.Save the girl and her sister… Kill those responsible… Spread fear to those behind the scenes. Reward: 1 Angel point. 3 Devil points.
As soon as Guldrin saw this, his mind went crazy with hundreds of possible outcomes. But something inside him pushed him to ignore the messages and move forward.
There was no hesitation or deliberation; his cloak flared dramatically behind him as he broke into a dead sprint, boots pounding against cobblestone and dirt that had seen better days. His hands were already in motion, reaching into his coat, retrieving his mask with practiced ease, the white ash color catching only the faintest glint of light. It slid into place, hiding his expression, revealing only the distorted coldness of the monster beneath.
He reached the alley in seconds. The awful smell hit him first: blood, piss, mold. Then the sight of a bulky man, skin like leather, muscles packed like slabs of meat under stained rags that passed as clothing. He stood over a child no older than ten, the kid's body limp, twitching occasionally from pain or fear, most likely both. Bruises bloomed across their face and arms from the clear abuse they had suffered.
The man wasn't even phased by Guldrin's hurried appearance. He looked up and turned, scowling at the masked newcomer who had interrupted him.
Guldrin didn't say anything at first. He just stared.
Then he took a breath, followed by a soft sigh, barely audible.
"Fucking hell," he muttered, voice warped by the mask into something inhuman. "People like this exist everywhere, don't they? First Danzo, that doctor, and now this guy…"
The man stepped forward, cocky swagger in every motion. "This ain't your business, freak. Walk away while you can. I'm a ninja, the real deal. You don't want to fuck with me. Drop the knife, put that little toy down; either that, or take the brat's place as my punching bag."
The "toy" in question was his silenced engraved Mk. 23; clean, deadly, and already aimed with unsettling precision. Guldrin tilted his head slightly, the way predators do when they're just about done pretending they're tame.
"Haha… bahaha…" His laugh began low, then built, as if Guldrin couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Turn around and leave?" he repeated, almost amused. "You really think this is your choice? That you have power here?"
His voice deepened. Became jagged, raw with something darker.
"You think just because you can, you should. You prey on the weak, stomp on children, laugh like a king, delusional about grandeur when you live in a gutter. I've met your kind before. You always think you're at the top of the food chain…"
Images of the Third World countries Big Boss had been to flashed through his mind…
Starving kids.
Child soldiers.
Warlords tearing families apart.
He had seen it before, ignored it more times than he cared to admit, but not this time…
He took another slow step forward, the Mk. 23 raised a fraction higher.
"..."
"Until something scarier shows up to correct your deluded misunderstanding."
Then he fired.
The silenced pop barely echoed, but the bullet met flesh. The shot blew clean through the man's thigh. Bone splintered, muscle shredded, blood sprayed against the alley wall like a grotesque modern art display. The brute went down hard, screaming, clutching at his ruined leg, eyes wild with pain and disbelief.
Guldrin tilted his head again. "And that, my friend, is what we call... consequences. I know, a scary concept, right? Well, enjoy the lesson…"
Behind him, Ino was already moving. She scooped up the injured child with gentle arms, her expression a storm of anger as she ran away at full speed. "Lady Tsunade!" she shouted without even glancing at the screaming man. "We've got a kid. Bad shape. Broken ribs, at least. Their face is bruised, but no blood is visible, pulse feels steady but faint. "
"On it! Bring her over here, away from them." Tsunade's voice came from somewhere down the street. Her footsteps weren't hurried. They didn't need to be. When she arrived, things would be handled. She wasn't known as the greatest medical specialist for nothing; she could back it up.
If only she could face and conquer her fear of blood… But that is a problem for future Tsunade.
Shiro had already melted into the shadows. There were faint pulses of her mana in the air, like spider silk. Some of the threads were filled with poisons that would paralyze and kill, and others were ready to explode into a thousand razor-sharp twine-like blades.
The years of hellish training and honing their skills for Danzo had allowed her to master her abilities to a much sharper and finer degree. The jury is still out on whether or not it warped both of their personalities.
"You've got maybe thirty seconds," Guldrin, eerily calm, said to the screaming man. "That cry of yours? Gonna bring your friends running. Thugs, fake guards, maybe even a real ninja if you have one. And I need you to deliver a message. Thankfully, no one needs to be alive to deliver this kind of message." He clicked his tongue and stared at the man, "It's too bad really, maybe if you hadn't screamed, you could have lived for another hour or so as we tor- I mean persuasively extracted your secrets."
The man was choking now, wheezing through spit and blood and the rank stench of his own fear. His filthy face twisted into a snarl, snot running into the corner of his mouth, mingling with tears he refused to admit were falling.
"F-Fuck you…" He spat, voice cracking with pain and fury. "You think you're some kind of hero? This place'll eat you alive! You'll die screaming when the boss hears about this! We have ninjas in our gang, you are fucked!"
"Oh, abandoned the lie about a brute like you being a ninja?" Guldrin laughed in that distorted, haunting sound.
Shaking with fear, he staggered to his feet, desperation and adrenaline making him bold, and in a last-ditch effort, he hurled a handful of shuriken with a scream that was equal parts anger and agony. "I am a fucking Ninja, DIE!" But the blades sailed wide, clattering harmlessly against the walls of the narrow alley. The pain in his leg had ruined his aim. Maybe it was the shock, maybe blood loss, maybe just years of thinking fear would always give him the upper hand. Whatever it was, his aim had dulled, and he'd missed.
"That… Was… The… Wrong answer," Guldrin said coldly.
Without a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward and slammed his boot into the man's chest. There was a crunch as ribs cracked, and the air was driven from the thug's lungs in a wet, gurgling cough. He crumpled, collapsing into a heap on the bloodstained alley, but still very much alive. And conscious. Guldrin had made sure of that.
The masked young man stood over him, silhouette grim against the dirty wall of the alley, the faint glow of the sun outlining the curve of his white ash mask like a halo of something long since forsaken.
"See, you have me all wrong… I'm not a hero," Guldrin said, his voice filtered through the mask, distorted and deep. "I'm what the heroes don't know they've been sent to defeat when they fight the demon king. The equalizing factor for those who fuck around and find out. I'm the one who shows up after the monsters think they've won, and tears their whole fucking world apart."
Shiro raised a brow and scrunched her face, "So cringe… But it might be accurate."
He stepped on the man's wounded leg, right where the bullet had ripped through flesh and bone, and ground his heel in slowly. The scream that tore from the man's throat was choked and raw, a ragged shriek that echoed down the alley like a death knell.
"To kill a monster," Guldrin continued, voice like gravel, "you need a much scarier monster. You? You're a parasite. You pick on kids. You beat people who can't fight back. You think fear gives you power. But I'm here to remind you…" He leaned down slightly. "There are always scarier monsters, and unlucky for you… Our paths crossed."
The man was shivering now, twitching in pain and unable to form words. Blood soaked his cloth pants, and his hand reached out pitifully in some dumb animalistic instinct to beg.
"I'm not the good guy," Guldrin said, straightening his clothes. "I do this because I can. Because I want to. Because I am strong enough to decide what happens… This is who I am, till the day I die. I enjoy it, and that is all the reason I need to kill a sniveling thug like you."
His comm crackled in his ear, Shiro's calm voice coming through with just a trace of amusement. "We've got company. Three are coming fast from the west side, four more through a side door. And… oh, correction, eight total. Two of them are using chakra. Moderate threats. Nothing special."
"Perfect," Guldrin said as he smoothly ejected the magazine from his Mk. 23 and slotted in a fresh one filled with hollow points. It locked into place with a satisfying click. "Time for a live-fire demonstration. So much for keeping a low profile."
Shiro's laughter bubbled through the comm, soft and chilling. "By the all-seeing eye, blessed be the bullet." It seemed she was already attempting to spread their religion? Cult? Movement?
Okay, jury is back from deliberation… They were affected by the torture… But who could blame them?
You try being systematically broken for three years and see if you stay sane.
Ino rolled her eyes, crouched nearby, having transferred the child to Tsunade and Shizune, "You two are absolutely deranged."
"And yet somehow effective; master sure found a unique inheritor…" Schnee murmured, voice dry, arms folded across her chest as she watched the chaos unfold with practiced detachment. Her elegant poise was unshaken, the perfect picture of aristocratic nonchalance. "Honestly, when master Shin told me he would find a successor… This isn't what I had pictured."
Behind them, the little girl who had run for help was now holding on to Shizune, who had knelt down to comfort her. The girl was crying on Shizune's shoulder, and her little fingers were knotted into her black kimono. Her face was streaked with dirt and tears, but her eyes, those terrified, desperate eyes, were glued to Guldrin's back. And despite everything, despite the blood and the violence and the body in the alley… There was something new in those eyes, too.
It was… Hope.
Something that, given their lives, was unheard of.
A chance to fight back against what is known as their lot in life.
Guldrin caught the look over his shoulder. Just for a second, a quiet kind of rage brewed beneath the surface. At that moment, he made a promise of pain and retribution.
"Keep them safe," he said, voice steel, brooking no room for an argument. "Me and Shiro will handle these bastards."
"Brutally?" Shiro purred, her voice taking on that hungry edge.
"Brutally. Let's send a message: a new player has entered the game. Leave no witnesses."
Shiro grinned like the dragon she was becoming. Her hair shimmered as faint purple hues bled into the silver-white strands, mana threads swirling like serpents around her. Her draconic features flickering into view, pupils slitting, fangs peeking from beneath her lips. "They will walk straight into their deaths."
She moved like water over glass, silent and swift, taking position atop a deteriorated ramshackle building overlooking the narrow alley. She crouched, poised like a spider luring her prey to their death.
The first group rounded the corner, three thugs with crude blades and even cruder armor. They were laughing, hyped up on adrenaline and whatever they'd snorted or smoked beforehand. Clearly they weren't alerted or concerned by the scream and instead figured it was nothing serious. They were low-level thugs; what could you expect?
Though they did freeze when they saw Guldrin.
"Yo, the fuck happened to Big Shin?" one asked, pointing at the screaming heap on the ground.
Guldrin didn't respond. He simply raised his Mk. 23 and fired three times. Silenced thumps echoed as death itself seemed to follow.
Each bullet found its mark.
The first thug dropped with a hole where his eye used to be.
The second stumbled back as his neck exploded in a spray of red, clutching at the gurgling mess that used to be his throat.
The third turned to run.
And that was when Shiro dropped on him from above, a violet thread of mana piercing straight through his spine and out the other side. She whispered something in his ear as he died. No one knew what, but the look on his face was one of pure, soul-wrenching horror.
Now, you might be wondering where his third shot hit…
Well… be it lucky or unlucky, one of the thugs, or someone who worked for them, just happened to enter the alley and try to scream out for help…
He found a bullet piercing his heart, but the damage had already been done.
More were coming now. Four more through the side entrance, barking orders, chakra flaring. These wore rough flak jackets and forehead protectors etched with deep scratches.
Ex-ninja. Or rogue shinobi.
Didn't matter.
They had slaughtered the Root bases operatives… What could some budget ninja do?
Shiro moved like lightning through the battlefield, threads of mana slicing through flesh and bone with surgical precision. Her claws raked one across the face, melting his skin with poison.
Her mana thread traps, placed all around before the fight, had done work as well; three corroded corpses that didn't resemble humans anymore were the proof of this.
Another tried to strike her with a kunai, only for her to grab his wrist and twist, breaking it backward before sinking her teeth into his throat, followed by a back-breaking suplex from her experience training with King.
"Never doing that again… That was disgusting." Shiro groaned as she finished him off.
Guldrin advanced methodically, calm, the Mk. 23 barking softly with every step. Each shot finding its target with precision. Every move calculated. A bullet to the shoulder to drop one. A double tap to the chest to finish another. When one shinobi tried to weave hand signs, Guldrin shot a knife blade straight into his trachea mid-chant before retracting the blade to the handle. The jutsu fizzled and died with him.
It was an execution, plain and simple
A crimson ballet.
The last man, one who dared think he still had a chance, came hurtling out from around the crumbling corner like a bolt of fury. Chakra surged around him in manic sparks, raw and wild, licking across his fists with crackling arcs of jagged white and blue lightning. His eyes were wide, wild with the belief that maybe, just maybe, he could avenge what had just happened in that alley. He didn't know it yet, but he was already dead. It was just a matter of time…
Guldrin stood still as he calmly watched him close the distance. His piercing blue eyes beneath the ash-white mask were narrowing just slightly. He'd counted his shots, felt the final weight of the last round leaving the chamber. His weapon was empty, and so he holstered his Mk. 23 with precision born of experience.
There was no panic; if the guy wanted to enter into a close-quarters fight, Guldrin had no reason to refuse.
Lightning would meet lightning.
Guldrin wouldn't step back.
Instead, his own energy burst forth, a thunderous surge of deep, blood-red arcs snaking up his arms, crawling through his veins like fire through oil. Guldrin didn't use chakra; he was fueled by mana and something ancient. It was Hungrier. Much wilder. And so much more violent. His red lightning pulsed, hissed, and snarled, and the very air warped with the weight of its presence.
Then he took a step.
To the bystander, it would've seemed like he disappeared. A blink, a blur, the sound of a thunderclap, and then he was there, directly in front of the attacker. Just pure, overwhelming speed and ferocity.
Flesh collided with steel. The man's chakra-enhanced punch met only the blur of motion.
Because Guldrin's knife was faster.
It drove and sliced clean through the attacker's forearm, snapping bone, cleaving muscle, and plunged into the soft meat of his chest with a wet, squelching thud. The man's lightning sparked wildly, dancing across Guldrin's cloak and hoodie, only to be swallowed, consumed, devoured. His red lightning overpowered it, no, it fed on it.
Blue flickers danced for a second longer, then fizzled out like guttering candles in a storm.
"You picked the wrong employer," Guldrin growled into the dying man's ear, the voice through his mask deepened into a monstrous, warping echo. "And the wrong opponent."
With that, he twisted the blade.
There was a sound, part gurgle, part gasp, and the man collapsed in a heap of blood and twitching limbs, his expression frozen in the last moment of realization: that he had been utterly, completely outmatched.
Then came the silence.
Only the soft, stuttering sobs of the girl behind them remained, mixed with the distant drip-drip-drip of blood leaking onto cracked concrete.
Shiro, who had watched the last exchange with calm detachment, crouched near a corpse and cleaned her claws on the dead man's flak jacket. Her face was as placid as ever, but her eyes burned, a slow, simmering fire that smoldered with violence.
"Message sent," she said, not even turning to look at Guldrin. "I wonder when they'll receive it."
Guldrin didn't respond immediately. He grabbed his pistol and reloaded it with practiced hands. The metallic click of the magazine snapping in echoed through the alley.
"No," he said finally. "It hasn't been sent yet."
He walked back toward the man he'd first shot, the one who'd screamed, threatened, and thrown shuriken like a tantruming child. The thug hadn't died, not yet. No, Guldrin had left him for last. The leg wound had crippled him, so he was forced to watch the scene that had just unfolded. The man now lay against the wall, eyes wide and frantic, mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, stinking of blood, piss, and terror.
Guldrin knelt beside him, calm, like a teacher about to give a lesson.
"Be thankful," he said, his voice low and oddly intimate. "I let you live."
The man tried to speak, but it came out as a garbled whimper. Guldrin kept talking.
"It wasn't kindness. Don't make that mistake. I don't believe in mercy. Not for people like you. I left you breathing for one reason only…"
He leaned in until his bloodied masked face hovered inches away, the reflection of the man's own horror mirrored back at him in those lifeless black lenses.
"For this face."
His voice chilled the air.
"That look. That expression. I've seen it before. It's the face of someone who's seen despair, true despair. The kind that gets branded on your soul. The kind your boss will see when they find your body. That's the message."
Then, slowly, methodically, Guldrin reached down and picked up one of the shuriken the man had thrown earlier.
He turned it over in his hand, studying the crude edge like a surgeon examining a scalpel.
"Let him see you like this," he said, almost softly. "Let him see what happens when he sends worms after wolves."
And with that, he slit the man's throat.
It wasn't fast or clean.
The edge of the shuriken wasn't sharp; it tore more than it cut, the sound ragged and wet. The man gargled, coughed, tried to scream, but there was nothing left to scream with. His eyes went wide, then glassy, then still.
Behind them, the little girl still clung to Shizune.
But she wasn't crying anymore.
She was watching. Truly watching. Her eyes were wide, yes, but not with fear. Not anymore. Something had shifted. Something fundamental. The terror was still there, but it had been joined by something stronger.
Awe… And maybe a hint of reverence.
For the first time in her young life, someone had come when she cried. Not to scold her for interrupting their business. But to end it. To destroy the monsters that no one else would touch. The same monsters that the adults said were just part of their life, and nothing could be done.
Her breath came in shallow, quick gasps. She pressed her face against Shizune's clothes, fingers trembling, heart pounding like a war drum in her tiny chest.
And at that moment, a seed was planted.
Maybe not faith. Not yet. But something close. A belief.
A belief that monsters could be hunted.
Schnee approached from the side, stepping over corpses without hesitation. Her boots didn't make a sound. Her posture was regal, untouched by the slaughter. But her eyes flicked between Guldrin and Shiro, calculating.
"Efficient," she said mildly. "Though I must admit… unorthodox."
Guldrin wiped the blood from his blade with the sleeve of a dead man and sheathed it. "This place needs a message. A symbol. Something to remind them that there are all kinds of monsters that lurk in the abyss."
Ino, finally catching up, gave a low whistle at the carnage.
"I left a message, and its contents were: RUN," Guldrin said flatly.
"I came to help after moving the kid, but… It looks like I am not needed. I will go back." Ino didn't wait and disappeared, presumably heading back to Tsunade and the girl.
Shiro flicked her fingers, dismissing her mana threads with a graceful twist of her wrist. "Should we burn the bodies?"
"No," Guldrin said, walking past her and dropping an all-seeing eye emblem on the ground. "Let them rot. Let the rats tell the story. Though looting them is fine. Also, if you don't mind, can you take the lighting ninja's head? Ino might be able to extract some information."
"Suuureee~ Loot goblin mode activated!" Shiro giggled as she began rummaging through the corpses and taking anything of value.
Seeing her like this, Guldrin just shook his head and stopped beside the little girl, crouching down until he was eye-level with her. For a second, he was still, and most importantly, quiet so as not to scare the girl. Then he reached up and pulled down his mask just enough to show her his eyes.
"What's your name?" Guldrin asked, his voice steady, calmer now than it had been moments ago. The edge in it had dulled, the violence that had been there before locked away. For now.
The girl hesitated, sniffled once, and answered. "…Risa."
"Well, Risa," he said, shifting his weight slightly as he studied her, "you're safe now. But this place isn't. Let's go find your sibling. I'm sure Tsunade's patched her up by now. You were brave, you saved her. Be proud."
Risa's eyes widened at the word 'her.' She didn't ask how he knew, but she gave a small, almost invisible nod. The tension in her legs gave out, and before she could drop, Guldrin stepped forward and caught her. She was light, too light, and her skin felt paper-thin under his hands. Without another word, he lifted her and carried her, the faint sound of her shallow breathing brushing his ear as they moved.
Shiro cast a small wind spell to knock the liquid blood off them and fell in step just behind him, her gaze sweeping over the alley they'd come from. No movement, threats, or survivors. She said nothing, but the set of her shoulders made it clear she was still ready to kill if someone was dumb enough to follow.
They found Tsunade and Ino only a few streets away. Tsunade was kneeling on the ground, one arm supporting a smaller girl, Risa's sister, who looked pale but no longer on the verge of dying. Tsunade had done her work well.
"Where to now?" Tsunade asked, glancing up at Guldrin without moving from her position. "We can't just leave the brats after helping." Her tone was gruff, but her grip on the younger girl was secure. She wasn't letting go anytime soon.
"I don't know, but definitely not here," Guldrin replied without hesitation. "Let's take the kids and find somewhere safe, far away from what just occurred. An inn would be better." He shifted Risa in his arms so she was more comfortable, then looked toward the rest of the group. "Actually… Ino, you lead. I don't know this town at all..."
Ino gave a small shrug, stepped ahead of them, and started walking. "Follow me." She took them through a series of narrow alleys, weaving around stacks of crates and the occasional half-collapsed market stall, until the streets opened into something brighter and more populated. People glanced their way, some curious, others deliberately looking anywhere else.
After a little while, Ino stopped in front of a tall, well-kept building with painted wood panels and glass windows that reflected the sunlight. "This is the best inn in town," she said, stepping aside so they could all see it. "I hope someone here has money, because I don't. Perks of being Root, we didn't get paid."
Shiro stepped forward and pulled a small pouch from her coat, the clink of coins and rustle of paper inside audible even from a step away. "The loot boxes dropped plenty," she said plainly. Everyone knew she meant the dead thugs; every last one of them had been carrying enough cash to keep them comfortable for days.
"Then we're set, let's go inside, book a few rooms, enough for everyone, and take stock of the situation," Guldrin said, motioning toward the entrance.
Inside, the air was warm and carried the smell of polished wood and something cooking in the kitchen, roast meat, maybe? The lobby was quiet except for the sound of a quill scratching on paper behind the front desk, where a sharp-eyed woman glanced up at the group. Her gaze lingered a little longer on the children, but she didn't ask questions.
"We'll need rooms," Guldrin said flatly, resting an elbow on the counter. His eyes flicked toward the two girls, still clinging to Guldrin and Tsunade like they thought someone might try to rip them apart again. "One for these kids-" he tilted his head toward them without breaking eye contact with the innkeeper, "-and enough for the rest of us. Connected to the kids' room. We keep them close."
The woman behind the desk, a plump figure with shrewd eyes and a knack for measuring coin purses before the words left her mouth, gave a little hum. "Pricey request," she admitted, though it didn't sound like a refusal, more like she was already doing the math. "But if you've got the coin, I can book the suite. Big room, plenty of beds, connected to two others. Only issue is, if a noble strolls in and wants it, I'm obligated to hand it over." She gave them a slow, knowing look. "That being said, it's been months since the last noble came through. I don't think you'll need to lose sleep over that. Now, let's see… two connecting rooms and the suite…"
She tapped the desk twice, her fingers making a sharp sound against the polished wood as her gaze went distant in thought. Numbers ran behind her eyes, and when she named the price, there was a slight curl of challenge in her lips, like she wanted to see if they'd flinch from the absurd pricing.
Shiro didn't even blink. She pulled a pouch from her belt, the faint clink of coins heavy in the air, and dropped it onto the counter with enough weight to make the innkeeper's eyebrows twitch. The woman took it without ceremony, hefted it in her hand to gauge the weight, peeked inside for confirmation, and gave a short nod.
Three brass keys slid across the counter with a metallic scrape. "Second floor, west wing. Quieter side of the building."
They moved fast, not because they were in a rush, but because lingering in a public lobby with two half-starved, traumatized kids was a bad idea. The girls' eyes darted at every noise, every movement. If someone dropped a mug downstairs, they tensed like it was the crack of a whip. Guldrin kept himself between them and the hallway's shadows.
Ino took the lead, her sharp eyes scanning corners out of habit. She found the right door, slipped the key into the lock, and pushed it open to check the place. Two clean beds. A table. A pitcher of water. Sheets that actually smelled like they'd been washed this month. She glanced over her shoulder and gave a curt nod.
Tsunade stepped inside first, her arms full with the smaller girl. She lowered her gently onto the nearest bed, adjusting the blanket with uncharacteristic care before straightening. Guldrin followed, carrying Risa, who had finally stopped shaking. He placed her on the other bed with slow precision, not wanting to jolt her awake.
"Let them rest," Guldrin said quietly. His voice had that clipped, no-argument tone. "Lock the main door, open the side one that leads to the big suite. Once we're all in there, we'll figure out our next move. But first things first, Shiro and I require a bath, a shower, or something that involves actual water."
Shiro, leaning against the door frame, tilted her head. "I can just cast clean," she offered in her calm, matter-of-fact way.
"That's a last resort," Guldrin muttered, already turning toward the connecting door. "I want to feel clean, not just be clean." He said it like the idea of magical cleanliness without hot water was some cruel insult to their dignity. Shiro giggled, her smile sharp but amused, and nodded in agreement.
The suite was exactly what the innkeeper had promised, big, spacious, and clearly the kind of place meant for someone with more coin than sense. It had that overdone polish that screamed "rich idiots welcome," with dark wood furniture rubbed to a gleam and thick rugs. The air inside had a faint scent of lavender, though it was fighting to cover the older smell of wood polish and whatever cleaner they'd used on the floors.
Heavy curtains covered the tall windows, cutting out most of the town's noise and turning the suite into its own little bubble. There were enough beds for everyone, three in the main chamber and more in the adjoining rooms, all neatly made with crisp sheets that probably hadn't seen much action beyond traveling merchants who thought they were royalty. The centerpiece was a large, solid table that could've doubled as a barricade in a pinch.
The restroom was tucked into a side chamber, and that was where Guldrin's attention immediately went. The copper tub sat there like a centerpiece, deep enough to actually submerge in, rather than the awkward crouching most "baths" in these places required. It was the kind of tub that said, "someone wanted it to scream luxury," though it still relied on the old, stubborn water pump beside it.
Guldrin gave the pump handle an experimental pull. It resisted for the first two yanks, then let out a loud, whining squeal that echoed like a dying animal. "Charming," he muttered, giving it another pump. This time, the spout coughed and spat a burst of cold water into the tub.
The water kept coming, gushing in a steady stream, and Guldrin stuck his fingers under it only to yank them back instantly. "Of course it's cold. Why wouldn't it be?" he said in a tone that managed to be both sarcastic and resigned.
Shiro stepped in behind him, peering at the tub with a tilted head. "Not even a kettle in here? What kind of expensive place doesn't have a proper heating system?"
"The kind that expects servants to run up and down the stairs with buckets of hot water," Guldrin replied. He tapped the side of the tub with his knuckles. "Screw it. Copper's conductive. We'll just fill it, and then I'll heat the whole thing with lightning."
Shiro's eyes lit with amusement. "You're going to heat the tub, risk damaging it, all for the sake of a bath?"
"I've done worse for less," Guldrin said without hesitation. He stood by the tub until the water reached a good level, then took a step back. "Alright, clear the area. Don't want to fry you in the process."
Shiro smirked but moved aside. Guldrin cracked his knuckles and focused, letting sparks dance along his fingers before arcing into the copper walls of the tub. The water hissed instantly, a faint trail of steam curling upward as the surface rippled from the sudden heat.
"That's cheating," Shiro said with mock disapproval.
"That's efficiency," Guldrin corrected, checking the temperature with his hand. The heat was already spreading through the water. "Another thirty seconds, and it'll be perfect. Go ahead and cast clean on us so we don't dirty the water in the first few seconds of entering."
While the tub heated, they could hear Tsunade in the next room speaking in her usual low, commanding tone, making sure the kids were settled. Ino's lighter voice answered here and there, and there was the faint rustle of bedsheets as the two girls were moved around.
Steam clung to the copper tub like a stubborn ghost, curling and twisting into lazy spirals that fogged the nearby mirror and softened the edges of the room. Guldrin flexed his fingers one last time, feeling the faint fizz of residual electricity fade from his skin. The water shimmered faintly from the heat, ripples lapping against the sides in a gentle rhythm. He exhaled in satisfaction, leaning back slightly as the warmth began to seep into the air. "Alright," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, "that's one problem solved."
Shiro stood inside the doorway like a hesitant cat, and tilted her head toward the inviting bath. Her silver hair caught the flickering lantern light, glowing faintly like strands of moonlight. "Want me to go first?" she asked, the faintest lilt of curiosity in her voice.
"You're small-" he started, smirking, which earned him a sharp narrowing of her eyes.
"Fun-sized!" she shot back instantly, folding her arms in an exaggerated huff, her cheeks puffing out just slightly.
Guldrin grinned, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Fun-sized," he repeated. He was humoring her, but also conceding the point. "Sure. Anyways, let's just bathe together."
That stopped her. Her posture froze, eyes widening just a fraction, and then color crept into her face like the slow bloom of dawn over snow. "Together?" she echoed, her voice quiet but steady, like she was checking if he was joking.
He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate.
She bit her lip, glanced at the tub, then back at him. "Sure…" she said at last, her tone softening. "We are… dating? Married? Bound together for eternity via system bonding…" Her blush deepened, the pink now a soft glow across her pale skin. "So what is bathing together compared to that? We- We're… Both consenting adults…" Her voice faltered as Guldrin casually stripped off his shirt, his muscles shifting under the lantern light, each scar and mark telling a story she already knew too well. Her words trailed into silence as he stepped forward and slid into the water, the surface breaking around him in slow waves.
The heat hit him instantly, a delicious, bone-deep warmth after travel, blood, and stale air. He let out a low sigh that was almost a groan, leaning back with his arms spread along the tub's rim. Steam rose around him, and for a moment, he looked like he belonged there, relaxed, at ease, the world's troubles put on hold for a while.
Shiro lingered for just a moment longer, her eyes darting away every time she caught herself staring. Then, with a deep breath and a muttered, "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine," she began to undress. Her movements were desperate, almost hesitant, as though she were testing whether he would tease her for it. Piece by piece, her clothes fell away, and she stood for a heartbeat in the warm glow of the lantern light, her skin faintly dewy from the humidity.
When she finally stepped into the tub, the water shifted with a soft splash, warmth curling around her ankles and up her legs. Her expression melted into something between surprise and relief. "Oh… It's perfect," she murmured, sliding down until the water lapped just under her chin.
Guldrin chuckled. "Perks of having a boyfriend who can literally boil water with his hands."
She gave him a playful glare, sending a small ripple toward him with a flick of her fingers. "Show-off."
He smirked but didn't reply, just reached out and pulled her gently toward him. She resisted for half a second before giving in, her back resting against his chest, her head tipping just enough to find the hollow of his shoulder. His arms came around her in a loose, comfortable hold, the warmth of the water mixing with the heat of his body until she couldn't tell which was which.
For a while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the soft slosh of water, the occasional drip from the old hand pump, and their steady breathing. Shiro closed her eyes, letting herself float in the silence, feeling his heartbeat against her back. It was steady, grounding, a quiet rhythm that told her he was here, alive, and not going anywhere. In contrast to their hellish three years, she was in heaven.
After a few minutes, she broke the quiet. "You know," she said, tilting her head back to look up at him, "most people would just… fill the tub with cool water, maybe boil a kettle to offset the temperature."
"Where's the fun in that?" he countered, one eyebrow raising.
"Fun?" she echoed. "Is that what you call electrocuting a bathtub? What if you melted the tub?"
He laughed, it was deep, warm, and genuine. "It's efficient. And besides, it's not like I shocked you or melted the tub… I call it a win-win."
"Yet," she muttered, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her with the faintest smile.
He tightened his arms around her just slightly. "Not planning to. You're kind of my favorite person in this world. It would be a shame to fry you. The tub, though, I will be honest, it might receive a bit of damage from continuous electrification."
Her cheeks heated again, not from the bath this time. "Idiot," she mumbled, but her voice had gone soft. She leaned into him more fully, her fingers lightly tracing one of the scars on his forearm under the water. "You're warm…"
"That's the bath."
"No," she whispered, eyes still closed. "That's you… and maybe the bath too, but mostly you."
Hearing her, something in his chest tightened, not in a painful way, but something about this feeling left him simultaneously wanting and hesitant. Shaking his head, he rested his chin lightly on her head, inhaling the faint scent of her hair beneath the steam.
The rest of the bath passed in the kind of quiet that didn't need to be filled. Every so often, Shiro would shift, letting her fingers trail absently over his arm, his chest, the rough lines of his knuckles. He didn't stop her, nor did he tease her for it; he just let her explore, as if she were mapping out something she had already claimed but wanted to memorize all over again.
All in all, Guldrin was certain… He would ensure this happened again.
( I am still alive and haven't dropped this fic. I thank everyone for their patience and understanding. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Leave power stones if you want, comment, and leave reviews; they motivate me. Stay safe.)