A few miles away from the dirt road, a massive group of men waited in a dry, rocky canyon.
The heat of the day had finally broken, but the night air remained thick and uncomfortable. Over sixty armed mercenaries sat scattered across the canyon floor. They rested against large boulders and sharpened their weapons. They were a rough, violent group. They wore mismatched armor, chainmail, and heavy leather boots. They carried broadswords, axes, and heavy iron maces.
Koji, the leader of the mercenary company, sat on a wooden crate near the center of the camp. He was a massive man with a thick beard and a deep scar running down his cheek. He aggressively ran a whetstone down the blade of his massive battleaxe. The metallic scraping sound echoed through the quiet canyon.
Koji stopped sharpening and looked to his right. A single cultist sat perfectly still on a flat rock nearby. The cultist wore a dark, heavy cloak that completely hid his features. A silver necklace hung over his chest. The pendant was a perfect triangle set inside a circular ring.
"How long are we supposed to wait like this?" Koji grumbled. He spat on the dusty ground. "We have been sitting in this miserable canyon for two entire days. The bugs are eating my men alive. The rations are getting stale. We were told this would be a quick ambush."
The cultist did not turn his head. He kept his face hidden in the shadows of his hood.
"Patience is a virtue required by the divine," the cultist replied. His voice was completely flat and devoid of any emotion. "The bait has been planted. We simply wait for the trap to snap shut."
Koji let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Does it matter? You freaks are paying us extremely well. I have never seen a religious group with so much raw gold to throw around. You can buy all the patience you want."
Koji stood up and swung his heavy axe through the air. The massive blade cut through the wind with a heavy swoosh.
"That is true," Koji continued, rolling his thick shoulders. "But my body is itching for a good fight. My men are getting restless. We are killers. We get paid to kill people. Sitting around playing in the dirt is bad for morale. I hope this target of yours puts up a decent struggle."
The cultist finally turned his head. "The target is a coward running with a stolen map. He will die screaming like all the rest."
A loud, piercing whistle suddenly echoed through the dark night. The high-pitched sound carried perfectly over the rocky terrain. It bounced off the canyon walls, signaling the exact location of the target.
The cultist stood up slowly. He pulled a long, jagged blade from beneath his dark cloak. "Ah. You did not have to wait that long after all."
Koji grinned widely. He raised his heavy battleaxe high into the air.
"On your feet!" Koji roared at his men. "The signal is sounded! We move out and slaughter everything breathing! Leave the official for the priests!"
Sixty heavily armed mercenaries roared in response. They scrambled to their feet, grabbing their weapons and adjusting their armor. They surged out of the canyon like a violent tide, completely eager to earn their gold.
***
Deep in the northern forest, miles away from the canyon, a completely different scene unfolded.
An ancient, abandoned stone shrine sat hidden beneath the thick canopy of trees. The stone walls were heavily overgrown with dark green moss. The floor was paved with cracked stone blocks. The entire area smelled heavily of rust and rotting meat.
Thirteen cultists stood in a perfect circle inside the ruined shrine. They all wore the same heavy dark cloaks. They all wore the exact same silver pendant around their necks. They were chanting a low, guttural prayer in perfect unison.
A massive symbol was painted on the stone floor in the center of their circle. It was a triangle inside a ring. The symbol was painted entirely with fresh human blood.
The High Priest of Jashin stood directly in the center of the bloody triangle. He was a tall, incredibly thin man. He held a long, black spear in his right hand. The spear had three separate, wicked prongs at the tip.
Three men were bound and gagged on the floor at the Priest's feet. They were mercenaries. They wore the exact same armor as Koji's men. The cult had hired them just a week ago.
The High Priest looked down at the terrified mercenaries. He smiled gently.
"Lord Jashin does not discriminate," the High Priest said softly. "He does not care if you wear a headband, a crown, or standard armor. He only requires your suffering. Your blood is just as holy as the blood of our enemies. Be grateful. Your pain will feed the divine."
The Priest raised the black spear high above his head. He drove the weapon downward with extreme force. The three prongs pierced the chest of the first mercenary. The man screamed through his gag, thrashing violently against his thick ropes. Blood rapidly pooled on the stone floor, adding to the painted symbol.
The High Priest closed his eyes. He tilted his head back and took a deep, shaking breath. He looked completely ecstatic. He was absorbing the pain of the sacrifice.
Suddenly, a massive flash of white light exploded inside his mind.
The Priest gasped loudly. He dropped the black spear. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the bloody stone floor. He grabbed his head with both hands.
A vision forced its way into his consciousness. It was vivid and terrifying. He saw a massive wave of destruction. He saw endless fire and deep, black water. Standing perfectly still in the center of the chaos was a young boy. The boy had long, bright blond hair blowing wildly in a violent wind. The boy slowly turned his head. He looked directly at the Priest with cold, emotionless blue eyes.
The vision ended instantly.
The High Priest stayed on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the blood on the floor.
"My Lord," the Priest whispered in sheer awe. "A divine revelation. He has shown me the ultimate sacrifice."
The shrill, echoing sound of a loud whistle reached the ruined shrine. The signal cut through the guttural chanting of the thirteen zealots.
The High Priest stood up. He picked up his black spear. His eyes were wide with completely absolute fanaticism.
"The harvest is ready," the Priest announced to the circle. "Bring the holy weapons. We march to the signal. We will bathe this entire forest in divine blood."
The thirteen cultists stopped chanting. They drew a variety of strange, jagged weapons from their cloaks. They followed their Priest out of the ruined shrine and sprinted toward the dirt road.
*
*
*
Back at the wooden wagon, the situation had descended into absolute madness.
The severed head of the older girl rested in the pooling blood near Hideki's boots. The head of the youngest girl sat a few feet away. Both heads were laughing hysterically. The wet, gurgling sound of their twisted mirth filled the quiet camp.
The young man standing on the rocky ground dropped to both knees. He did not look at Naruto or Itachi. He pulled the silver pendant of Jashin from his pocket and pressed it tightly between his palms. He bowed his head and began to pray loudly.
"Lord Jashin," the young man shouted into the night sky. "We offer you these souls. We embrace the agony of the mortal flesh. We deliver the ultimate suffering to feed your eternal glory. Let thy bloody will be done upon this earth!"
The two severed heads stopped laughing. Their dead, pale lips began to move in perfect synchronization with the young man.
"We embrace the agony," the heads chanted from the floorboards. "Let thy bloody will be done."
Hideki squeezed his eyes shut. He curled into a tighter ball, desperately pressing his hands over his ears. He was a civilian official. He dealt with trade disputes and tax collection. The sight of decapitated, talking heads reciting religious prayers was completely shattering his mind.
Itachi stared at the kneeling cultist. He gripped the hilt of his short sword so tightly his knuckles turned entirely white. He had trained his entire life to kill normal humans. You cut the throat, you pierce the heart, or you sever the spine. The enemy dies. This was different. This was an enemy that ignored the fundamental rules of life and death. He needed a completely new strategy.
Naruto stood calmly in the blood. He looked over his shoulder at Kinoe. The Root operative was standing defensively on the driver's bench.
"Protect the client," Naruto ordered. His voice was calm and commanding.
Kinoe did not hesitate or ask questions. He understood the tactical priority. He dropped his tantō and slammed his hands together. He channeled his chakra rapidly.
"Wood Release: Wood Dome,"Kinoe whispered.
Thick, heavy wooden pillars erupted directly from the floorboards of the wagon. They shot upward and curved inward, rapidly forming a solid wooden shell over the back half of the cart. The dome completely enclosed Kinoe and Hideki. Kinoe purposefully left thin, horizontal slits between the thick wooden planks. They were safely sealed inside an armored bunker, but they still had a clear view of the battlefield outside.
Naruto turned his attention back to Itachi. The young Uchiha was breathing steadily, preparing to launch a rapid assault against the kneeling cultist.
"Do not engage him in close combat," Naruto said clearly.
Itachi paused. He looked at Naruto. "He is distracted. I can end this quickly."
"You cannot kill him with a simple blade," Naruto explained. His tone was perfectly flat, completely devoid of the panic Itachi felt. "They use a specific blood ritual. If they cut you, even a minor scratch, they will ingest your blood. Once they taste your blood, their body becomes a living voodoo doll. Any damage they take is instantly transferred directly to you. They are immortal zealots. If he stabs himself in the heart, you will die instantly."
Itachi's eyes widened slightly. He looked down at the young man praying on the dirt. The cultist was carrying a concealed weapon. The entire act of playing a helpless civilian was designed to let them get close enough to secure a single drop of blood. It was a flawless assassination method.
The loud chanting abruptly stopped.
The young man on his knees stopped praying. He slowly lowered his hands. The severed head of the older girl stopped moving her lips. The head of the youngest girl went completely still.
The silence was sudden and heavy.
The young man tilted his head up. He looked directly at Naruto. The severed head near the boots rolled its eyes to look up at Naruto. The second head turned its face toward Naruto.
All three entities spoke at the exact same time. The voices blended together into a deeply unsettling, overlapping chorus of the living and the dead.
"Who are you?"