Chapter 52: A Necessary Purge

Ren’s solitary journey was shattered by a voice so shrill and unnatural it grated against his very nerves.

“Oho-ho! Brother! Look what the road brought us! Such a fine-looking young man! What a prize!”

The voice was a bizarre, piercing falsetto that set his teeth on edge. It was the warning given flesh. Ren stopped in his tracks, a wave of profound annoyance and disgust washing over him.

From behind the large rocks flanking the road, two figures emerged. Or, more accurately, four. Two men stood with arrogant postures, their Grass Ninja headbands defaced by the deep gouge of a traitor. They held leashes, and at the end of those leashes, two other young men crawled on hands and knees like broken animals. Their eyes were hollow, their spirits shattered, moving with a dull, mechanical obedience that was painful to witness.

The standing shinobi were the main event. One was a mountain of a man with a wild, unkempt beard and a cruel glint in his eye. The other was leaner, with a sharp, vulpine face and a theatrical, simpering expression.

“He’s really quite exquisite!” the bearded one—presumably the one called ‘Mountain King’—exclaimed, his gaze crawling over Ren with a possessive hunger. “Look at that. Such fine features. It makes my fingers itch to… make his acquaintance.”

“Oh, brother, you’re always so forward!” the other one—’Viper’—screeched, affecting a coyness that was grotesque on his features. He made a show of slapping the larger man’s arm. “You’ll frighten our precious new guest with such brutish talk! We must be gentle!”

The larger man chuckled, a low, grating sound. “Hahaha! But you love my directness, don’t you?” He reached out and pinched Viper’s chin with a familiarity that turned Ren’s stomach.

“Ooh, you’re terrible!” Viper trilled, batting his eyes and twisting his body in a sickening parody of demureness. “Talking like that in front of company!”

Ren stood frozen, not out of fear, but from sheer, unadulterated revulsion. It was a spectacle of depravity that was both horrifying and mesmerizing. The travelers’ warnings had failed to capture the full, nauseating reality.

“Alright, enough games,” the Mountain King said, his attention locking onto Ren with predatory focus. “Let’s take our new treasure back to the nest. We can… get to know each other properly there.”

They started walking towards him, utterly assured of their dominance, their previous captives crawling obediently behind them.

That movement broke the spell. A wave of pure, visceral hatred crashed over Ren. These weren’t just bandits; they were monsters who had stripped men of their humanity.

That’s it. I’ve seen enough. I’ve heard enough.

His mind, screaming in protest, reached for the most absolute, most final solution he possessed. He didn’t want them to touch him. He didn’t want to get near them. He wanted them erased.

A familiar, searing heat bloomed behind his eyes. The world sharpened into hyper-focused clarity as the pinwheel pattern of his Mangekyo Sharingan spun to life. A single line of blood, hot and thick, traced a path from the corner of his right eye like a tear of pure fury.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t gesture. He simply looked.

On the bodies of the two advancing shinobi, reality itself seemed to tear. With a silent whoosh, pitch-black flames erupted into existence, clinging to their clothes, their skin, their very beings. The flames of Amaterasu, born from the sun itself within his gaze, began their inexorable consumption.

“Ah?! What is this?!” Viper shrieked, this time in genuine alarm. He looked down at the black fire eating away at his clothes and slapped at it instinctively. “Get it off! Get it—AGH!” His cry turned to a scream of pure agony as the cursed flames instantly leapt to his hand, burning with silent, terrifying intensity.

“These flames…! What kind of jutsu is this?!” the Mountain King roared, trying to beat out the flames on his chest, only succeeding in spreading them. “Why won’t they go out?! It burns! Viper! Help me!”

But Viper was beyond help, rolling on the ground in a futile attempt to smother the black fire that consumed him. “Brother! It hurts! Make it stop! Please, make it stop!”

The bearded ninja’s eyes, wide with pain and terror, found Ren’s cold, Sharingan-lit gaze. The truth dawned on him. “You! You did this! You demon! Take it back! Take it back now!” He took a staggering, burning step forward, his hand outstretched in a desperate, threatening gesture.

Ren didn’t flinch. With a contemptuous sniff, he simply pushed off with his feet, using his mastery of body flicker and chakra control to elevate himself effortlessly into the air. He hovered above the road, looking down dispassionately at the two writhing figures below like a god passing judgment. He wouldn’t let their filth touch him, not even in their final moments.

Their screams were short-lived. The black flames were merciless and efficient. The wails of pain soon turned to choked gurgles, then fell silent. The Amaterasu continued to burn, not stopping at death. It consumed flesh, bone, and fabric with equal hunger, leaving nothing behind but a scorched patch on the earth where two vile lives had been utterly and completely purged. When the last flicker of black fire winked out, there was no evidence they had ever existed. No ash, no scrap of cloth. Only the smell of ozone and void.

Ding! Host eliminates two Elite Chunin. Reward: 2,000 Points. Total Points: 78,000.

Ren landed softly back on the road, deactivating his Sharingan. “Disgusting,” he muttered to the empty air, wiping the trail of blood from his cheek. “You got exactly what you deserved.”

A soft, disbelieving gasp came from behind him.

“Dead…? They’re… they’re really dead?”

Ren turned. The two collared men were staring at the empty, scorched ground, their dull eyes wide with a mixture of terror and dawning, impossible hope. The leashes, now connected to nothing, hung limply from their necks.

One of them began to sob, great, heaving cries of relief that shook his entire body. “They’re gone! The demons are gone! We’re… we’re free!” It was the cry of someone emerging from a long, dark nightmare into sudden, blinding sunlight.

The other simply knelt, tears streaming down his face silently, his fingers clutching at the dirt as if to reassure himself it was real. Read complete version only at novel✶fire.net

Their raw, emotional outburst was grating on Ren’s nerves. He had come for a confrontation, not a counseling session. “Quiet!” he snapped, his voice cutting through their cries. “Control yourselves.”

The two men immediately flinched, clamping their mouths shut and looking up at him with fresh fear. They may have been freed from their old masters, but this new one, who could summon hellfire with a glance, was infinitely more terrifying.

Ren glared at them. “You two. You know where their hideout is, don’t you?”

They nodded frantically, too frightened to speak.

“And I assume they had a stash. Money. Valuables. Things they stole.”

More frantic nodding. One found his voice, a hoarse whisper. “Y-yes, master! We know! We know where it’s all hidden! We can take you!”

A slow, satisfied smirk finally replaced Ren’s scowl. Now we’re getting somewhere. At least this revolting interruption wouldn’t be a total waste of his time.

“Good,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Lead the way. And be quick about it.”

“Yes, master! Right away!” The two men scrambled to their feet, eager to please their terrifying liberator. They turned and hurried down a narrow path leading off the main road, towards the mountain where their nightmare had begun, with Ren following close behind, his mind already on the spoils to come.

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