Chapter 16: The One Who Left It All Behind II
On the outskirts of Metsugakure, a young Metsuri cradled a lifeless woman in her arms.
"Why… Why did it have to happen like this? I don't understand…" Tears streamed down her face, her voice trembling.
"Why didn't you choose me…? Even if I was chosen to be one of them… you should've stayed with me. No matter what."
Her mother had tried to explain. But explanations meant nothing to a child who couldn't understand them.
"Why…?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
"Why… why… why… why…?" It broke into a scream.
"Why?!"
Too many emotions flooded her chest at once, but one rose above the rest.
That emotion was frustration.
"Why didn't you choose me?!" Metsuri shouted. "Why did you try to leave me behind in this village?!"
"Why were you never there for me—knowing what I am?! Were you really going to leave… without saying anything at all?!"
Her fingers curled into a fist. "Why did you try to leave… without taking me with you?!"
She slammed her hand into the ground.
"Damn it!"
Again.
"Damn it!"
Again.
"Damn it!"
And again—
"DAMN IT!!"
When she finally stopped, her knuckles were split open, fresh blood staining the dirt beneath her.
[Your first mission as a shinobi begins with this.] The village chief's voice echoed in her mind.
Slowly, she stood.
Her teeth clenched as she let her mother's body slip from her arms. Raising her uninjured hand, she pointed toward a nearby tree
toward something that wasn't there and yet felt present.
"And you…!" Her lip trembled. She bit down hard enough to draw blood.
"This—everything—is your fault."
"You knew this would happen!" she shouted.
[A woman is attempting to flee Metsugakure.]
"You made me kill my own mother!"
[You will find her. And you will kill her.]
"You make me sick," Metsuri spat. "I could search this entire kingdom… and I wouldn't find anyone even a fraction as disgusting as you."
[Your first mission as a shinobi begins with this.]
"Do you hear me, old man?" Her teeth ground together. "I hate you."
"I HATE YOU!"
The only reason the young Metsuri could recall her mother's appearance was due to her amazing memory.
And for the first time, she began to question the village itself.
Why were men and women treated so differently?
Why were kunoichi looked down on?
Why were women seen as tools?
Why is strength the only thing that matters… but not for them? It was tragic really.
It was twisted, unfair, and deeply rooted.
In that moment, alongside her desire for revenge, something else took shape.
A vow.
"If this world only respects strength…" Her expression hardened, all traces of hesitation fading into something cold and steady.
"…then I'll become the strongest shinobi in Metsugakure's history."
So no one would ever have the power to throw her away again.
"And I won't lose to anyone."
As the young Metsuri made her vow, the final tear slipped from her eye. It traced her cheek, lingered at her chin, then fell.
At the same time, blood dripped from her split knuckles.
Two droplets, one clear and one red.
They fell toward each other… met in the air… and struck the ground as one.
◆ ◇ ◆
A bead of sweat slid down Metsuri's temple as she exhaled, breath unsteady.
Several feet ahead of her, three magical beasts stood.
The closest one had no face.
Where its head should've been, jagged violet antlers twisted upward from its neck. It stood nearly five meters tall.
Its torso was split open by a vertical rupture, a jagged tear running from sternum to navel. Inside was nothing but a dark, sap-stained void… a hollow where a heart should've been.
From its elongated arms and the base of its neck, clusters of tendrils hung and swayed.
In its left hand, it held a weapon formed from Magic. a white khakkhara.
Hovering a short distance beside it was another creature, noticeably larger.
Nearly ten meters tall. Its body was covered in pristine, alabaster feathers with a faint, pearlescent sheen.
Toward the tips of its wings and its sweeping, phoenix-like tail, the color deepened into rich blue and charcoal gray.
Its legs were thick, layered in golden-brown down that gave way to heavy, raptorial scales near the feet. Obsidian talons curled beneath it, sharp and ready.
Its eyes burned—a molten amber set deep within a sleek, white-feathered head.
Its beak was heavy, curved gold like sunlight.
Its long, ribbon-like tail feathers trailed behind as it hovered in place, wings beating slow and steady, never touching the ground.
And behind them both, stood something far worse.
A towering, fifteen-meter giant.
Its shoulders stretched wide, like the crossbeams of a cathedral. Its arms were pillars, thick, corded, and impossibly dense.
A body built not just for strength, but for devastation. Muscle and hardened hide layered into something that felt immovable.
Metsuri let out a quiet breath.
"Back for more?" she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "My, my… aren't I popular?"
She tilted her head slightly. "If you wanted me that badly, you could've at least taken me out to dinner first."
'This isn't good…' Her thoughts were far less composed. 'Three against one… Can I be in my current condition…?'
Her clothes were torn, exposing skin streaked with sweat and dirt. Bruises darkened her arms and shoulders, layered beneath shallow scorch marks. Her chest rose and fell unevenly.
Her hair had come loose, no longer tied back, now messy, clinging to her face and neck.
'What I need to do right now, is buy some time while I think of something…'
She staggered slightly, catching herself.
"Hey—you," Metsuri called, pointing toward the tree-like beast. "You've got some level of intelligence, don't you? Even if you can't talk."
She smirked faintly. "So what's the deal? The Vulcan could speak, but you can't? Kinda unfair, don't you think?"
"…."
No response.
Not even the strange noise it had made before.
Metsuri's eyes narrowed, flicking between each of them. 'They're not attacking… why?'
A thought crossed her mind. 'Are they scared?' She immediately shook it off. ''no. They're probably cautious of me.'
'They've seen what I can do.' Her mind flashed back, each of them fought individually. Even now, at her limit, they weren't making the mistake of underestimating her.
She swayed again, her stance weakening just slightly. "Don't tell me…" she muttered, forcing a grin, "you're all gonna gang up on little old me?"
Slowly, a faint white aura began to rise from Metsuri's body. It leaked from her in thin wisps, uneven, unstable, nothing like before.
There were no white butterflies this time. "Wow… talk about pathetic," Metsuri let out a weak chuckle.
"I'm really on my last legs. My magical container's basically empty."
Within every mage exists an internal reservoir, often called the magical container. It's a metaphysical vessel that stores and refines magic particles into usable power.
Every spell, every technique, it all draws from that supply. And once it runs dry, so do you. No matter the age or skill, every wizard has one.
Turning her head slightly, Metsuri's black eyes landed on Albion.
He sat where she had told him to, small and still, looking back at her with a gentle smile. His fuchsia eyes didn't waver.
For some reason she couldn't explain the unease in her chest faded.
Since meeting him, it has been one fight after another. No rest. No time to recover. Every battle forced her to burn through more of her magic.
Fire Magic, Barrier spells, and Light Magic.
And even her techniques, Suntetsu and Sesshoku-zan.
They weren't spells, but they still consumed magic. Refined applications of ethernal Infusion, pushed to their absolute limit.
And now, she was nearly empty.
Metsuri turned her gaze forward again, eyes sharpening. 'I have to take them down one at a time.'
'Figure out their strengths… their weaknesses…'
"KREEE—EEEE—AR!" The Aureliarch shrieked.
Its massive wings spread wide as a current of green wind began to swirl around it. The air twisted, compressed, then sharpened.
Eight thorn-like projectiles formed from wind itself.
Metsuri's eyes widened, but she moved instantly. Kicking off the ground, she dashed toward the nearest part of the forest.
A dense cluster of thick, towering trees.
The Aureliarch beat its wings, firing the thorns.
They tore through the air in rapid succession, slamming into the trees Metsuri used as cover.
Wood splintered. Bark exploded outward. Each impact carved deep, brutal holes through the trunks.
They came one after another in a type of volley.
'It can use two types of magic, wind and lightning,' Metsuri recalled. 'The wind alone is bad enough. But if that lightning hits me I'm done for.'
The barrage finally stopped.
The tree she hid behind still stood, but barely. They were cracked, torn and ready to give out.
The Aureliarch didn't hesitate, With another powerful flap, it launched a second attack.
This time, wide crescent blades of compressed wind, slicing forward through the forest.
Metsuri ran, she weaved through the trees, using them as shields.
The first two blades, she dodged cleanly, slipping past them with raw speed despite her exhaustion.
The next three, she forced the trees to take the hit.
Deep gashes ripped through the wood as the blades carved past, tearing through trunk after trunk.
But in focusing on evading and blocking she didn't notice she had run out of cover.
Her eyes snapped forward, two more wind blades were already closing in.
She leapt, throwing her body forward.
She twisted midair, her movements sharp, precise, driven by years of training. The blades passed on either side of her, close enough to graze.
She slipped between them, and landed hard against the ground.
Grabbing her Ninjatō hilt with her hand, she unsheathed it slightly. It was covered in a thin white aura.
'Should I use Suntetsu?' "Metsuri pondered with an intense gaze. 'No, it's too much of a risk. If I did use it, there's a chance it would simply dodge it.'
'With my current amount of magic power left, I only have a few more spells left in me. I can't take the chance to miss it.' Reluctantly, she sheathed her Ninjatō.
Although Suntetsu was an effective technique on magical creatures and human beings alike, it lacked the ability to cut down its opponent in one strike.
That is not to say it was weak. But it is more optimal to use it to cause significant damage instead.
Things like cutting off a limb, or causing large gashes. In order for it to take down its target in one strike, it needs to be a decisive cut.
"I've decided." Metsuri said, taking a stance. Her black eyes locked onto the Aureliarch.
"I need to take you, as well as your friends down with Sesshoku-zan."
Sesshoku-zan, Metsuri's second slashing technique, designed to bypass durability.
Rather than projecting a slash outward, Metsuri channels magic directly into the target upon contact.
The energy then manifests internally as a cutting force, adjusting its output based on the target's physical toughness.
The tougher the target, the denser and sharper the resulting strike.
Because of this, Sesshoku-zan is highly effective against heavily reinforced opponents or those with strong defensive capabilities.
This technique does not require a weapon and can be executed through simple motions, such as a hand chop.
However, its effectiveness depends entirely on successful contact.
SKREEE-AAAAAAAARRRRGGHHH!" a sharp, ear-piercing screech filled the area. It was like a chest-shaking howl.
Metsuri's head quickly turned into the direction of the roar.
Into the distance, closing its massive mouth was the Gravemarch. It bent its knees before kicking the ground and going into a dash.
The ground beneath it was destroyed. The trees were completely lifted into the air, pulled from the ground.
It went forward, barreling through the trees that laid in its path. Heading for Metsuri. While running, it leapt forward, crashing down into the ground.
It landed directly in front of where Metsuri was located. Raising its foot, it slammed it down repeatedly.
With each stomp, it released a clear grunt. Building dust and smoke from the force, while the ground breaking could be heard.
Panting faintly it began to stop, taking a few steps back as she stared into the smoke.
A small black figure shot out of the smoke. Using it to hide her presence, it shot right at it.
The Ninjatō cleared the air with a sharp schwing, followed by the loud thud of one of the Gravemarch fingers being cut off.
"Even if you do have immense strength!" Metsuri appears in its vision. Soaring around in the air with her weapon in hand.
"That means nothing if you don't have the speed to back it up." Metsuri said, showing a maniacal smile.
"Your declaration of war-!"
In an instant, she quickly flew through the air. Swinging her Ninjatō, the Gravemarch right hand was chopped off.
"Was to the wrong person."
The Gravemarch began to growl in pain. Using its remaining hand, it made a fist and threw out a wild swing.
Metsuri, of course, easily avoided it. Since Albion was no longer suspended in the air, that meant she could use her floating magic freely.
With a clear advantage, she easily avoided the next set of punches from the Gravemarch. It didn't take long before it was tired and started panting again.
Positioning herself, Metsuri quickly put away her Ninjatō. "Light Magic…!"
radiant chains of light conjured in each of her hand. "Chains of Judgment."
Formed from condensed luminescence, the chains glow with a piercing brilliance as they lengthen outward.
The Gravemarch attempted to smack one of the chains away. Only for it to bend and change its angle, causing its direction to completely change.
They snapped. through the air as if guided by will alone. In an instant, one warped around its massive arm. While another coiled around its waist.
Grunting loudly it tried to break through but before it truly could, Metsuri darted towards it.
'Now my chance!' She ready her hand. 'I'll use Sesshoku-zan, and take it down in one strike.'
Just before she was able to reach the Gravemarch face however, the Aureliarch appeared in between both of them.
Metsuri, who was so caught up in finishing the opponent in front of her, failed to sense it. The Aureliarch then flapped its wings, in the direction of Metsuri.
Her eyes had widened in shock, but it was too late. A powerful burst of wind struck her body, sending her flying in the opposite direction.
Metsuri's exhausted body slammed into the ground. She bounced hard, rolling across the dirt before crashing into a tree.
Blood clung to her hairline, running down her forehead. It streamed from her nose, spilling over her lips.
She lay there, motionless.
As seconds passed, her fingers twitched.
Slowly, she pushed herself up. 'My head… it's pounding.'
She braced herself against the tree, forcing her body upright. "I think I cracked a few ribs on that landing."
Before she could gather herself, Dendravore was already there.
Standing directly in front of her, five meters tall. White khakkhara in hand.
'I need a plan, fast.' Metsuri straightened, her black eyes locking onto it. "They're trying to overwhelm me by attacking in waves."
Her hand moved to her ninjatō, slowly unsheathing it. She took a step forward and then stopped.
'No, that won't work. Trying to think this through while they keep coming at me is pointless.'
Flames erupted from her body.
They burned away the dirt beneath her feet, heat distorting the air around her.
"I need to stop thinking," Metsuri said, her voice steady, expression cold. She angled her blade into position.
"And force a path to victory."
The Dendravore responded in kind, spinning its khakkhara before settling into its stance.
For a brief moment, they stood still. Then both moved, their weapons collided with full force.
A sharp clang rang out, the impact sending vibrations through both of them. A visible shockwave burst outward, cracking the ground beneath their feet.
Despite the difference in size, Metsuri held her ground. "It's not a good idea to get this close," she said.
Her free hand touched its body.
A sharp, internal cut erupted from its body. Four deep gashes tore across Dendravore's torso.
Since there was no visual attack, it completely caught Dendravore by surprise.
The beast staggered, its body jerking back from the sudden damage. The clash broke instantly.
Metsuri didn't hesitate, still wreathed in flames, she jumped, twisting midair, and drove a kick into its head.
Fire exploded on impact.
The Dendravore let out a distorted roar, stumbling back, clawing at its burning face.
'I need to finish it before it regenerates.'
A distant cry cut through the air. "KREE—EEE!"
Metsuri turned in the direction of the sound. The Aureliarch was already diving toward them.
"Perfect." She faced forward again, a wide smile spreading across her face as she saw the Dendravore still reeling.
She dashed in, magic surged into her leg, a bright white glow building at the point of impact.
Dropping low, she drove her kick forward.It slammed into the Dendravore chest.
Its mouth opened wide, blood spilling out. as its body was launched backward.
It soared through the air, straight into the Aureliarch. The collision forced a raw, beastly cry from both of them.
Before they could recover, radiant chains of light snapped into place, coiling tightly around their bodies.
Binding and restraining them.
Metsuri stepped forward, flames igniting at her feet.
"Are you watching, Albion?"
The two beasts lifted their heads, just in time to see Metsuri Smiling.
Rushing straight toward them.
"This is the moment the kunoichi wins."
She passed through them in a blur, her ninjatō cutting cleanly across both bodies.
All in one strike.
"The ones who are pathetic are you," Metsuri said, turning fully toward them. The flames at her feet flickered, unsteady but still alive.
"Throwing away your pride—what you are—" her voice sharpened, laced with disgust.
The fire surrounding her body gathered into her hand, condensing tightly as she raised it toward the Aureliarch and Dendravore.
"—it makes me sick. Enkō Rasenshō."
From the center of her palm, a spiraling column of fire burst outward. It twisted violently as it surged forward, drilling through the air before slamming into both beasts at once.
For a brief moment, the flames compressed
then detonated. A violet explosion bloomed, swallowing them whole.
Metsuri didn't wait. Knowing she was out of time, she kept using her jet-kindling and launched herself forward.
shooting toward the last remaining beast as fast as her body would allow.
The Gravemarch, still bound in her chains.
It roared, loud, furious, shaking the air itself. Seeing her approach, it clenched its remaining fist, drawing in power.
Metsuri pulled out her ninjatō mid-flight, the blade instantly coated in a white aura.
"I'll pour everything I have left into this," she said, her grip tightening. "One final slash… to bring you down."
"GRAAA—WOOOOR—RRRRGHHH!"
The Gravemarch's roar tore from its chest, deep and violent, ending in a jagged, grinding rasp, like stone grinding against stone at impossible speed.
Its entire arm surged with Ethernal Infusion.
The air between them tightened. Then, they collided.
Metsuri swung.
The Gravemarch punched.
A massive crescent-shaped slash tore through the air. It met the Gravemarch's fist,
and cut straight through it.
The force carried upward, carving along its arm, slicing clean across it in a single, horizontal line.
For a moment, everything went still. Then, blood erupted into the air.
A violent spray, staining the battlefield.
The fight was over.
A lone figure fell from the sky, crashing down into the forest below.
The battle between magical beasts had ended.
The one who stood victorious…
was the one who had left everything behind.
The winner?
Metsuri Ebonveil.
Author's Note
Hey everyone—thank you again for all the support on these recent chapters. I really appreciate you all sticking with the story as it continues to expand.
For this chapter, I've added a special extra: there's an illustration of an injured Metsuri down in the comments. It ties directly into the events of this fight, so make sure to check it out when you get the chance.
Also, quick update on visuals going forward. I've decided to revisit some of the earlier character illustrations. Albion, Gajeel, Juvia, and White will all be getting updated versions with a new art style that better matches the tone and direction of the story now.
I'll be releasing those across the next set of chapters, so keep an eye out for them.
As always, thank you for reading. More is on the way.