"A man chooses. A slave obeys."
— Andrew Ryan (Bioshock)
--
Drip...
Drip...
Blood trickled down the left side of my face, warm against the cold rain. It tasted metallic when it reached my lips. I didn't wipe it. No point. The rain was already washing it down, mixing the red blood into the mud.
I kept my eyes forward.
The bastard backed off again — just a few meters — same as before. Like he was trying to bait me. Then strike the moment I blink.
I'd seen this pattern before. Classic feint-and-ambush. Textbook shinobi tactic.
But this one wasn't some inexperienced ninja.
No… this guy was fast. Too fast. The kind of speed that didn't belong to a random thug or missing-nin. This was trained movement — efficient, and mean as hell.
A Jōnin, I thought, exhaling slowly.
He circled slowly, waiting for an opening. He'd already tried to end it with a fast frontal strike, but I blocked his strike. He didn't expect that. So he'd backed off for a second, assessing the situation, he crouched low with a kunai glinting in one hand, he moved again.
I could barely make out his eyes.
Cold.
Empty.
He wasn't here to talk.
Fine by me.
He moved again — fast. Real fast.
But this time, I saw it.
Even though it was still a blur, my eyes locked onto the shape—
Not the body, not the kunai—
The motion.
The blur wasn't straight. It arced slightly to the left.
I raised my axe instantly to block the attack, the steel of my axe head caught what I thought was a direct strike.
No.
He wasn't there.
Shit — it's a feint.
By the time my eyes snapped to the right, his foot was already buried in my chest.
The world tilted.
My back slammed into a thick tree trunk. My ribs and internal organs were shifted from the impact. Something cracked—I couldn't tell if it was wood or bone. My vision wobbled as I lost the balance of my body but I didn't go down.
I stayed on one knee, breathing shallow through my teeth.
Still calm.
The distance was finally mine.
I reached into my pouch and pulled out three small spheres. I threw them fast, one after another, in an arc.
He moved like lightning.
Dodged left. Then right. Then vaulted over the last one like it was a rock in the road. No pause. No misstep. He was too experienced for my throws
I needed to kill him up close.
Point blank.
Thump-thump-whic
Two spheres shot into the trees. One whistled through the branches
But I wasn't done.
The moment his feet hit the ground, I twisted my body and launched more spheres charged with chakra — six this time. They scattered wide, like a shotgun blast
He didn't have a choice this time.
He moved on instinct.
Kunai flashing—clang, clang, clang—
Sparks lit up the space between us like lightning bugs in a storm.
Each deflection sent bursts of chakra erupting—
One sphere exploded into a nearby trunk, splitting it in two.
Another hit the ground, sending mud and earth spraying into the air.
The clearing looked like it had been shelled.
It wasn't about precision now.
I wanted him off-balance.
And for half a second—I had him. Even though he could deflect the spheres, the force still transferred.
And that was enough.
He faltered— just slightly — shifting his weight wrong. But that was all I needed.
I surged forward—not back—meeting him mid-rush. He didn't expect that.
His eyes widened behind the mask for just a split second.
I gripped the haft of my axe and filled it with a familiar chakra—
Earth nature
Still unstable. Not perfect. My messiest trick.
But I didn't need perfection.
I just needed harder.
The chakra coating surged down the blade in uneven streaks, darkening the metal with a muddy, brown like shimmer. I could feel the axe grow heavier in my grip — denser and more solid.
No more games.
I roared and swung my axe downward — with all my strength, all my weight, all my fury — just as he reached my striking distance.
But he struck me first—kunai low, slicing toward my ribs. I can't dodge.
He got me.
Right side. Just under the ribs. The blade dug in. The pain flashed white behind my eyes. But my arms were already moving, carrying all their momentum toward his head.
My axe came down — and even though he moved to dodge, but he was not fast enough
Crack.
The blade struck from his left shoulder—from the left shoulder. The sound was awful. Wet and cracking.
The blade bit through flesh, cracked bone, and dragged downward — cleaving his side, tearing from shoulder to hip.
His blood sprayed across my face as my axe buried into the ground beneath him— driving through his body like he was paper.
He didn't scream. His head jerked once.
Then—nothing.
His body dropped with a wet, messy crunch, half of him still twitching.
I stayed there for a second.
Breathing.
Listening to the rain.
The blood mixed with the water at my feet, turning the ground into a red river. It smelled like iron and wet soil
My axe was still humming with chakra. The blade was chipped a little— but it had worked.
Barely.
My side burned.
The kunai was still in me.
--
(A/N)
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