Land of Fire, Northwest — Dekang Prefecture, a crumbling old estate.
"This mission's objective is to wipe out every bandit and rogue-nin inside. Mission Rank: B."At the ruins, Gryphon stopped, his hawk-like mask sweeping across the five masked figures behind him.
"Understood!" Natsume Yō and the others replied in unison.
"Good. The four of you will infiltrate quietly, circle behind them, and plant traps on their escape routes. Tenshin—" his sharp gaze locked on Yō, "you'll follow me. Watch carefully how I take down enemies. After this mission, we'll test your chakra attributes and begin tailored jutsu training. Clear?"
"Yes, Captain." Yō's voice was cool, his eyes unreadable. From the moment he stepped into ANBU, Natsume Yō was gone. He was only Tenshin now.
"Move."
At Gryphon's signal, the four veterans vanished like phantoms. Everyone in this squad, except Yō, was at least chūnin level.
"Thump. Thump."
Yō crouched behind a low wall. No matter how calm he pretended to be, his body betrayed him—heart hammering, breath uneven. By contrast, Gryphon stood motionless, as still as a killing machine, aura completely concealed.
Boom!
After a few minutes, an explosion thundered from within the compound. Gryphon's eyes snapped open. He gave Yō a signal. "The rogue-nin are ours. You handle the bandits." Then he blurred forward into the chaos.
Yō inhaled deeply, drew his ANBU-standard short blade with trembling hands, and muttered to himself, Fine. Let's see if Natsume Yō really belongs in this shinobi world.
"Shhk!"
The moment he dashed inside, a blade lunged at him, cold light flashing.
"Clang!" Yō whipped up his knife to parry.
Gryphon had been wrong about one thing. Yō's power might not be overwhelming, but his experience wasn't as green as it looked. The System had loaded him with a rookie shinobi's survival instincts—dirty, frantic scraps included. And he'd already digested most of it.
"Pshk!"
Yō shoved the enemy's weapon aside and stepped in, stabbing his own blade through the man's chest.
"Die!"
A brutal voice snarled behind him, followed by a killing wind.
"Whsshh!"
Too fast. Yō's head was slashed clean off in one strike—only to burst into smoke with a poof.
"A clone?!" The attacker's eyes widened, too late.
"Shhk!"
Yō's real blade punched through his back, exiting clean through his chest. The man crumpled, lifeless.
"Loose the arrows!"
Another bandit leader barked. Six archers released a storm of arrows, a black rain screaming toward Yō.
If he'd mastered elemental jutsu, he could've countered with one move. But right now? He had none. He'd have to fight his way through it the hard way.
"Freeze!"
Yō roared, eyes sharp as he locked on the bowmen, forcing their hands to still.