Chapter 5: Trail of Fire (Part 2)
Yugami Genshin was forced out of his concealment in a rather sorry state, finally exposed once again to enemy eyes.
Truth be told, the enemy's self-destruct tactic wasn't a bad choice—it was the timing that had gone awry. The best counter to his Mayfly Technique had always been wide-area ninjutsu. No matter how well one hid or how fast they moved, nothing beat flattening the whole ground in one decisive sweep.
A kunai sliced through the mist, embedding itself into Genshin's shoulder with a dull thunk. Blood burst forth in an instant. But the sharp pain jolted him awake, shaking off the dazed fog left by the earlier explosion.
A silhouette emerged from the thinning mist, and a flash of cold steel gleamed from Genshin's blind spot.
"Earth Style!" the enemy shouted while launching his attack, alerting his remaining allies. In his mind, Genshin must have been using some sort of special Earth Style technique for stealth, movement, and assassination.
Clearly, that hasty assumption ended up misleading his comrades.
Genshin lunged forward with his left foot, barely stabilizing himself. As his torso twisted and leaned back, he narrowly evaded a decapitating slash. The blade still managed to graze his upper arm, leaving a stinging wound.
The enemy twisted his wrist, reversing his grip on the blade, then swung backward. Genshin had no choice but to pivot and sidestep again, narrowly avoiding the next strike.
The cold gleam of the blade heightened Genshin's senses. He could feel the chill on his skin, sharpening his focus. His breathing became slow and deep, his awareness expanding.
But the relentless onslaught eventually threw him off balance. As his upper body tilted backward, he barely managed to plant one arm behind him to break the fall.
A powerful kick landed square in his abdomen.
The force sent him flying in a curled arc before he crashed back-first into a protruding boulder. Pain exploded in his spine, stealing his breath—but he had no time to dwell on injuries. Without hesitation, he rolled to the side.
Clang!
A blade slammed down where he'd just been lying. The enemy's pursuit was so swift, Genshin couldn't find a single opening to counterattack.
He rolled again, evading further strikes while adjusting his posture, finally regaining a face-to-face position with his opponent.
The enemy's speed was impressive—his short blade fierce and unrelenting, each strike aimed squarely at Genshin's upper body and centerline.
It was clear: this was a taijutsu specialist. His aggressive rush was designed to keep Genshin's hands apart, preventing him from forming hand seals to cast jutsu.
A smart plan—but one that underestimated Genshin. He wasn't known for powerful ninjutsu. So how had he survived the battlefield this long?
The enemy was just a chūnin—hardly qualified to strip another ninja of their ability to fight.
Such aggressive attacks are hard to sustain indefinitely. When the enemy's rhythm faltered for just a breath, Genshin slipped to the side, dodging a slash. His right hand dropped to his tool pouch, fingers curling around a kunai.
As the enemy switched from a slashing arc to a forward thrust, Genshin suddenly swung his kunai upward.
Clang! A clear metallic ring echoed. Genshin had looped the kunai's ring around the enemy's blade, locking it in place. With a sudden twist of his wrist, he yanked in the direction of the enemy's own force.
The short blade flew from the attacker's hands. At the same moment, Genshin released his kunai and pulled the enemy toward him with the momentum.
Right foot bracing, he thrust his knee hard into the enemy's abdomen.
The brutal strike landed flush, strong enough to cause internal bleeding. Blood spurted from the enemy's mouth. His legs buckled uncontrollably, and he stumbled backward.
Pain contorted his features, but before he could recover, Genshin's hands were already weaving seals. The final sign snapped into place:
Fire Style: Phosphorus Blaze!
A wave of heat distorted the air. Clusters of orange flames, varying in size, surged forward—each trailing fiery tails, like liquid fire being flung from a basin.
The taijutsu user had no time to dodge.
In fact, he didn't react at all before the fan-shaped inferno swallowed him whole. Once the Phosphorus Blaze latched onto flesh, it became nearly impossible to extinguish.
A wail of agony pierced the battlefield. Upon contact with flesh, the blaze flared even fiercer. Within twenty seconds, the screams stopped. His limbs twitched faintly, then fell still. What remained of him resembled a scorched log—crumbling into ash, absorbed into the flame.
Genshin spared him no further glance.
His eyes shifted to the last enemy not far away.
That one had been charging forward to help his comrade—until the horrifying sight of his comrade burning alive rooted him to the spot.
What terrified him wasn't the jutsu itself—but Genshin's eyes.
There was no hatred in them. No anger. No sorrow or joy.
Only an icy calm that devoured emotion.
It wasn't the gaze of someone looking at an enemy.
It wasn't the gaze of someone looking at a comrade, either.
It was the gaze one used to look at an object. Something already dead.
Watching his team fall, one by one, this last ninja—just a genin—finally broke. He turned and ran.
But he didn't get far.
Shunk.
A kunai pierced through his back, cleanly impaling his heart.
This ninja was even younger than Genshin.
But in the end… if you don't kill, someone else will kill you.
"Was it… some kind of… secret technique… that killed… the captain?" the dying genin choked out.
It was clear—the death of their captain had shattered their momentum. If he had contributed anything at all, they wouldn't have been wiped out so easily.
"Secret technique?" Genshin paused, then shook his head. "No… just ordinary ninjutsu."
As the steam from fire and water techniques slowly faded, Genshin's soaked hair clung to his forehead, and his clothes were drenched.
The battle hadn't lasted long. The intensity had been moderate. But his nerves had been strung taut the entire time.
Still, the objective was complete.
Genshin inhaled deeply, letting the damp air seep into his heat-scorched lungs.
He had other comrades waiting.
It was time to move.