…
The scarred Jonin's warning hung in the air.
The words had barely left his mouth when the ground trembled again as more explosions ripped through the road as additional tunnels collapsed outward.
Dirt and rock sprayed in every direction while fresh waves of masked assailants poured from the earth like ants from a disturbed nest.
Murakami spun on the wagon roof, rods already spinning in his hands. Three enemies charged the middle wagon from the newly opened breach.
He leaped forward, Phantom Step carrying him across the gap in a blur. The first attacker swung a heavy cleaver. Murakami ducked under the arc and drove one rod upward into the man's chin.
The enemy's head snapped back with a wet crunch, and he dropped like a puppet with cut strings.
The second foe tried to flank, kunai slashing low. Murakami turned, his rod cracking against the man's knee with brutal force causing the bone to give way.
As the attacker stumbled, Murakami slammed a palm strike infused with compressed chakra into his chest.
The shockwave detonated at point-blank range, hurling the man backward into two of his comrades causing all three to crash to the ground in a tangled heap.
Sakumo on the right flank moved like a storm, his lightning-clad blade flashed, severing an enemy's arm at the shoulder. Blood sprayed in a wide arc as the man screamed.
Sakumo didn't hesitate as he reversed his grip and drove the sword through the next attacker's stomach, twisting viciously before ripping it free.
The next opponent tried to retreat but Sakumo chased him down in three swift steps and took his head in a single clean stroke.
"Hold the line!" the Jonin commander shouted as he carved through two enemies in rapid succession, his blade moving with experienced precision.
One of the attackers leaped at him from above. The Jonin didn't even look up. He simply thrust his sword upward, impaling the man through the torso before flinging the body aside.
Hideki fought like a cornered animal near the rear wagon. Blood poured from the wound in his shoulder, but rage kept him moving.
Ignoring the pain on his shoulder, he grabbed an enemy by the collar and slammed his chakra-enhanced fist into the man's face repeatedly.
Bone cracked under the blows as the enemy went limp just as another stabbed at Hideki's back. Sora's Earth Wall rose just in time, blocking the strike.
Hideki roared and charged at the new threat, tackling him to the ground and pummeling him until the struggling stopped.
Sora stayed close to the wagons, hands flying through seals. "Earth Style: Rising Stone Spears!"
Sharp pillars of rock erupted from the ground, impaling two enemies mid-charge.
A third attacker slipped through and slashed at him. Sora twisted away, but the blade caught his side, drawing a shallow line of blood.
He retaliated with a point-blank Stone Bullet jutsu that caved in the attacker's chest.
Murakami landed atop the lead wagon, eyes scanning the battlefield.
The enemy numbers had swelled. At least thirty now, coordinating in small teams to pressure different sections of the convoy.
Their goal wasn't destruction, but disruption. They targeted the drivers and the wagon wheels, trying to immobilize the cargo rather than seize it outright.
He spotted a group of four enemies converging on the rear wagon where medical supplies were stored. Murakami sprinted along the wagon roofs, rods whirling. He jumped down into their midst.
One rod smashed into a masked shinobi's temple, dropping him instantly. The second rod blocked a kunai strike from another, then countered with a thrust to the throat.
The man gurgled and fell.
The remaining two attacked together. Murakami used Phantom Step to slip between them, striking one in the spine with a precise palm while sweeping the other's legs.
As the second man fell, Murakami drove a kunai through his neck. Both stopped moving.
Explosive tags detonated again, this time closer to the lead wagon. The blast lifted one side of the vehicle off the ground causing the horses to neigh in panic.
A civilian driver was thrown clear, landing hard and rolling away from the wheels just in time.
The scarred Jonin appeared in the middle of the blast zone, blood streaking his face. He cut down the enemy demolition specialist with a single vicious slash, then spun to block another attack. "Sakumo! Support the rear! Murakami, with me on the center!"
Murakami acknowledged the order with a sharp nod and dashed forward.
He and the scarred Jonin fought back-to-back for several intense seconds until a particularly large enemy charged at their position with an axe.
The scarred Jonin met him head-on. Their weapons clashed with a deafening ring. Sparks flew as the Jonin was forced back a step.
Murakami noted from his chakra and strength that he was definitely a Jonin level fighter.
So he circled to the side and unleashed a rapid barrage of senbon while he was distracted. Several needles sank into the big man's shoulder and thigh.
The enemy roared in pain but didn't slow his movement and swung the axe in a wide arc meant to bisect both defenders.
The scarred Jonin ducked under it while Murakami used Phantom Step to vault over the swing entirely. While airborne, he twisted and released a powerful compressed shockwave from his palm directly into the enemy's back.
The blast sent the big man staggering forward, straight into the Jonin's waiting blade. Steel punched through his chest and emerged from his back. The giant collapsed with a heavy thud.
More enemies poured in causing the fight to grow fiercer as the night wore on. Lanterns were smashed in the chaos, plunging sections of the road into deeper darkness.
Only the occasional explosion or burst of ninjutsu lit the gruesome scene.
Hideki was breathing hard, one arm hanging useless at his side, but he refused to fall back. Sora maintained defensive walls around them, though blood now soaked his side.
Sakumo continued carving through opponents with relentless efficiency, his white hair stained with dirt and blood.
The scarred Jonin wiped blood from his eyes and shouted over the din.
"They're stalling for reinforcements! We break through or we die here!"
Murakami's grip tightened on his rods as the realization settled in.
Although the enemies didn't have any means of identification, they were still a group comprised of shinobi.
Which meant this wasn't a simple raid but a deliberate delay tactic. Someone wanted this cargo stopped or destroyed before it reached Kanzashi.
…
Murakami slid backward across the broken road, boots scraping against loose gravel as another wave of attackers pushed in.
'Where do these guys keep pouring out from?' Murakami pondered.
The rhythm of the battle had shifted from clean exchanges into exhaustion-driven survival. Every movement now carried weight and any mistake risked him losing his life.
He inhaled deeply and exhaled as his fingers tightened around both rods.
A masked shinobi rushed him from the side with a chain-sickle sweeping low. Murakami stepped into the attack instead of away causing the chain to brush past his waist as he brought both rods together in a precise snap.
Click.
Chakra threads locked the mechanism installed in the rods as the two short weapons fused into a single reinforced staff.
The next instant, he pivoted and drove the staff into the attacker's ribs with a dull crack.
The man folded mid-step, air forced out of his lungs as Murakami twisted the staff and flung him aside like discarded weight.
The weapon felt more stable now, less flexible, but more committed.
'Better for control in sustained clashes.' He thought as he engaged another enemy.
Behind him, the scarred Jonin and the Jonin leader were no longer fighting. They were watching.
The Jonin wiped blood from his cheek as he parried a downward strike. "Their formation… it's familiar."
The scarred Jonin's eyes narrowed as he cut down another attacker. "Not just familiar. Structured."
"Explosive dispersal units. Earth-style demolition coordination. These aren't random shinobi."
The scarred Jonin's blade paused for half a heartbeat. "You're saying… military unit?"
The Jonin nodded once. "Not mercenaries or bandits. This level of synchronized tunnel collapse and tag deployment…"
He ducked under a thrown kunai and countered with a throw of his own which found the attackers and embedded itself into their throat.
"…This is the Stone village demolition and explosion squad."
That name cut through the chaos more sharply than steel.
Murakami heard it even as he drove his staff upward into a masked shinobi's jaw, sending the man collapsing backward.
His expression didn't change, but his mind adjusted instantly.
Stone Village… Iwagakure
So that was the level of force they were dealing with.
The scarred Jonin spat blood onto the ground. "That explains the tunnels. Only Earth specialists could rig an ambush this deep this fast."
The Jonin's gaze hardened. "But something's off."
Murakami rotated his staff, deflecting a descending axe strike that shook his arms. He didn't need to be told twice that the attacker was physically stronger that he was and slid under the follow-up and struck the attacker's knee, snapping it sideways before finishing with a short-range chakra burst that launched him away. His life and death, unknown.
The Jonin continued, voice tightening. "The squad size is wrong. A full demolition unit from Iwagakure operates in layered divisions. This… this is not full strength."
The scarred Jonin's eyes flicked across the battlefield.
"Then why send them like this?" he asked.
The Jonin didn't answer immediately. That silence carried its own implication.
Murakami felt it too as he repositioned, staff spinning once before planting it to stop his slide. The enemy wasn't trying to win in a clean sense. They were being used.
Wasted.
The realization settled coldly in his chest as he struck another attacker in the sternum, breaking their momentum entirely.
They were not here to survive this fight.
A kunai grazed his shoulder, but he didn't react beyond a slight shift. The pain was secondary now.
He glanced briefly at the battlefield, at how coordinated yet disposable the attackers were.
Were they really assigned this mission… or thrown into it?
The Jonin tightened his grip on his blade. "Whether this is full strength or not doesn't matter. What matters is—"
Another explosion interrupted him, shaking the convoy hard enough to rattle wagon wheels.
Murakami steadied himself with the staff, eyes narrowing.
'Or the Stone are just that ruthless…'
He finished the thought internally as he stepped back into the fight.
'…that even a partial unit is acceptable losses for a suicide delay.'
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
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