Dusk settled over the river crossing, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and crimson.
The Hagoromo outpost was a rough palisade of sharpened logs surrounding a wooden watchtower and three large supply tents.
Twelve mercenaries milled about, cooking salted meat over an open pit while two sentries lazily patrolled the perimeter.
Ren crouched thirty feet away in the shadows of a cedar tree, his sensory skin reading the thermal updrafts rising from the campfire.
“Three on the western wall, two in the tower, seven around the pit,” Ren whispered, relaying the layout to his squad without ever peeking over the ridge.
“I’ll draw the tower’s attention and set the supply tent ablaze.
When they rush to extinguish it, strike the perimeter sentries and fall back.”
The senior scout nodded, his blade held ready.
“Don’t get pinned down, Ren.
If the squad commander shows up, we run.”
Ren slipped through the brush like a shadow.
As the rock sailed over the palisade, Ren channeled a sharp, paper-thin blade of Wind chakra around his kunai and sliced through the wooden guy-ropes holding up the main supply tent.
CRACK!
The explosive tag detonated on the far wall, shattering logs and sending a plume of black smoke into the air.
“Ambush!
Western wall!” the tower sentry screamed, turning his bow toward the smoke.
In the chaos, the collapsed supply tent caught fire from a tossed torch, the dry canvas roaring into a wall of flame.
Panic broke out as mercenaries scrambled for buckets, their tight formation instantly dissolving into frantic confusion.
Ren didn’t charge into the light. New chapters come out on g.com first.
He remained on the edge of the shadows, using his air-sense to track isolated stragglers.
A mercenary officer ran past his tree, yelling orders into the smoke.
Ren dropped behind him, his wind-infused trench knife darting out in a quick, precise thrust through the officer’s armpit, piercing the heart.
Before the body hit the grass, Ren yanked his blade free and melted back into the dark canopy.
Two minutes.
By the time the Hagoromo mercenaries realized the fire was a distraction, four of their men lay silent in the grass, the supply tent was reduced to ash, and the Kazeshira squad was already half a mile away, vanishing into the night with three crates of stolen medical herbs and iron ingots.
Ren ran through the dark forest, his heart beating in a smooth, steady rhythm.
His moderate chakra pool was barely depleted, his sensory skin having guided every footstep with minimal effort.
He was fifteen now.
In a few short years, this simulation run would draw to its natural close—and he was finally ready for what came next.