"Beep… beep… beep…"
The sudden ringing of the phone cut through the steady rhythm of training, sharp and insistent. Leonardo paused mid-motion, his blade lowering slightly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the device. When he glanced at the screen, his expression shifted with mild surprise.
It was a summons.
From Master Splinter.
Although confusion flickered across his mind, it was quickly replaced by something else—anticipation. His grip tightened slightly around the phone as a spark of excitement lit up in his eyes. After all, he had made tremendous progress recently, mastering techniques that once seemed impossible.
His strength had grown.
And now, he wanted to prove it.
"Tap… tap… tap…"
Without hesitation, Leonardo burst forward, his body moving like a phantom across the surface of the water. Each step was light and precise, chakra flowing steadily beneath his feet, supporting him as he ran effortlessly across the rippling surface.
This wasn't something he could have done before.
But now, it felt natural.
And there was only one reason for that.
Locke.
The one who had taught them everything.
To Leonardo—and the others—Locke wasn't just a mentor. He was something far greater. His words, even when spoken casually, carried weight like unshakable truths, guiding them toward a path they had never imagined before.
A god of ninjutsu.
A being whose brilliance couldn't be hidden.
Leonardo exhaled softly, unable to suppress the admiration rising within him.
"Good thing only a few of us got to hear those teachings," he murmured under his breath, his voice filled with genuine awe. "Otherwise… the world wouldn't be able to handle it."
His figure flickered.
One step.
Two steps.
Three taps through the air.
And then he landed steadily on the platform ahead, his body stabilizing instantly as the momentum faded.
"Master."
He bowed respectfully.
Splinter stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture calm yet authoritative. His expression remained composed as he observed Leonardo, but instead of greeting him, he moved without warning.
The staff in his hand swung forward.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Leonardo reacted instantly, his body flashing to the side three times in rapid succession. His movements were clean and efficient, each dodge executed with precision. But no matter how fast he moved, the staff followed him relentlessly, as if it had locked onto him completely.
The final strike landed cleanly.
Right on his backside.
"Hiss—!"
Leonardo froze, his face twisting in pain as he clutched himself instinctively. The impact wasn't just physical—it was humiliating.
His muscles were reinforced.
His chakra control had improved.
And yet… it didn't matter.
Splinter's mastery was simply on another level.
"My skills… they're improving," Leonardo muttered through clenched teeth, glancing up at his master. "Even with chakra, I still can't avoid it…"
Splinter said nothing at first, his gaze steady.
"Why did you call us here?" Leonardo asked, trying to shift the focus away from his embarrassment.
"We'll discuss that once everyone arrives," Splinter replied calmly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "This is Lord Locke's instruction."
Leonardo's eyes lit up instantly.
Everything made sense.
——
"Splash!"
Deep within the underground waterways, the temperature dropped sharply. Ice formed along the walls, spreading rapidly as the air turned biting cold. Frost crept across the surfaces, and the once-flowing water slowed, its movement hindered by the encroaching chill.
Yet in the center of it all—
A figure trained relentlessly.
Raphael stood knee-deep in the freezing water, a steel fork gripped tightly in his hand. His expression was fierce, his eyes burning with determination as chakra flowed through his body.
He didn't stop.
He didn't hesitate.
Despite his temper, despite his impulsive nature, when it came to training, he was relentless.
And now, he had found something that suited him perfectly.
"Ice Release… One-Horned White Whale."
His hands moved swiftly, forming seals with practiced precision. Chakra surged outward, drawing in the surrounding moisture as it condensed rapidly, shaping itself into something massive.
A white whale.
Lifelike.
Powerful.
The moment it fully formed, it moved.
Its tail lashed forward.
"Boom!!!"
The impact echoed through the space as the massive construct slammed into the wall. Cracks spread instantly, webbing across the reinforced surface before it gave way completely, collapsing under the force.
Raphael exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the freezing air.
A grin spread across his face.
That level of power—he could control it completely.
Precise.
Focused.
Destructive.
Just as he was about to take a short break, his phone buzzed.
He glanced down.
Then his expression shifted.
"Summoned… by Master?" he muttered, his tone sharpening slightly. "And it's Locke's arrangement…"
The idea of resting vanished instantly.
Without another thought, he turned and sprinted toward the designated meeting point.
——
"The ninja way is restraint… endurance… persistence…"
Michelangelo leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down his face as he forced his body through another round of intense training. His breathing was uneven, but his movements remained steady, driven by sheer determination.
Among the four, he had always been the least disciplined.
The least focused.
But things had changed.
The memory of that terrifying battle—of being completely overwhelmed—still lingered in his mind. The fear hadn't faded.
If anything, it had deepened.
And that fear had become fuel.
He didn't want to die.
He didn't want to be helpless.
He wanted strength.
Real strength.
"The ninja techniques taught by Locke…" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly with excitement. "They're incredible…"
His eyes shone.
Even with just a few basic techniques, his combat ability had skyrocketed. The improvement was undeniable, and for the first time, he could feel himself catching up.
"Outer Lotus… Inner Lotus…"
His body tensed.
Then—
"Bang!"
He slammed himself forward, using brute force to strike the wall, pushing his limits through raw physical conditioning. Pain shot through his body, but he didn't stop.
He embraced it.
Each impact.
Each ache.
It all became part of his growth.
"Life is meant to bloom like a flower…" he muttered, almost delirious from exhaustion. "And today… today is another passionate day!!!"
He charged again.
And this time—
"Boom!!!"
The reinforced concrete gave way.
His body smashed straight through the thirty-centimeter-thick wall, bursting out in a cloud of dust like a beast breaking free from its cage. He landed on the platform beyond, his breathing heavy but his expression filled with excitement.
"It's time to see Master Splinter…"
——
Elsewhere, inside what had once been a dilapidated factory, a series of sharp, rhythmic sounds echoed through the empty structure.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The camera would have revealed a blur of motion—countless overlapping shadows moving at high speed. At the center of it all stood Donatello, his staff spinning rapidly in his hands as he practiced with intense focus.
Before learning chakra techniques, he couldn't even crack the ground with his strikes.
Now—
Everything was different.
The staff cut through the air, and with each swing, invisible blades of wind shot outward, slicing through the surroundings with precision. The ground beneath him cracked, spreading outward in jagged lines.
Donatello closed his eyes.
He didn't need to see.
He could feel it.
The wind.
The flow.
The resonance between his movements and the energy around him.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough."
His voice was calm as he formed a seal with one hand, dropping to one knee. The air shifted instantly, pressure building before releasing in a violent surge.
The entire factory shook.
Then—
It collapsed.
The structure gave way completely, unable to withstand the force unleashed within it. Debris fell, metal twisted, and the sound echoed far beyond the ruins.
Outside, nearby residents were startled awake.
"What the hell was that?!"
"Did something explode?!"
Several men rushed out, weapons in hand, ready to confront whatever had caused the disturbance. But when they saw the scene before them, they froze.
The factory was gone.
Reduced to rubble.
And the steel beams… they looked like they had been sliced cleanly, the cuts smooth and precise.
"This… this has to be a superhero," one of them muttered.
"Yeah… no normal person could do this," another added, his voice uneasy. "Definitely someone powerful."
They exchanged glances.
Then, without another word, they retreated back inside, unwilling to get involved.
Hidden within the shadows, Donatello stood silently, his phone glowing faintly in his hand. He stared at the message on the screen, his expression thoughtful.
"Locke… sir…"
.....
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