Chapter 6
Night clung to the broken alleys like a second skin.
Ghost crouched in the hollow of a crumbled stairwell, heart still thudding from the encounter. The adrenaline had long since faded, but its residue left his limbs trembling. He stared down at the corpse half-buried beneath collapsed crates and scattered dust—the shinobi he'd killed.
He hadn't planned to. It had just happened.
The rebar spike had been wedged in a corner of the alleyway, a long, rusted shard he'd memorized weeks ago. When the shinobi's foot snagged his wire trip, Ghost had lunged—pure instinct—and driven it through the man's ribs from the side. The gurgling stopped fast. No dramatic final words. Just a ragged breath and then stillness.
He'd stayed hidden after that. Silent. Listening. No reinforcements came. No alarms. Eventually, the tension in the air faded.
He'd survived.
And now it was time to make use of his new ability.
He crouched beside the body, pressed a bloodied hand to the shinobi's chest, and focused.
> [Activating Dark Wisdom…]
Eligible Skills Detected:
– Trap Mastery: Intermediate
– Tool Affinity: Shinobi Tools (Basic)
– Chakra Flow Tagcraft (Basic)
Select One.
Ghost didn't hesitate.
> Selected: Trap Mastery: Intermediate.
The world blinked.
Information slid into his mind—not as facts or words, but muscle memory. The way to space traps to avoid overlap. How to gauge someone's pace and weight by footprint patterns. The subtle tension of wire traps, the best materials for remote detonations, the psychological trick of expectation placement.
His breath caught. This... this was real.
He looted the body next. Standard shinobi gear: kunai pouch, smoke bombs, two bomb tags, and a folded hitai-ate with the insignia scratched out. Missing-nin. That tracked.
There was also a purse of ryo—he estimated maybe 15,000. Enough to travel.
He didn't linger.
---
The ruins of Tajima's shop still smoked faintly.
Ghost slipped through the back, through the hidden wall he'd once used to store supplies. Everything was scorched. The front had collapsed. Ash clung to broken shelves and warped tools. But his emergency cache, buried beneath loose bricks, had survived.
Two days' rations, a waterskin, and the reinforced traveling cloak he'd stitched together. He changed quickly, pocketed the ryo, and stuffed the rest into a belt pack.
His mind was already ahead.
Cursed Energy. He had the Nanami template now—skills like Ratio Technique and Over Time lay locked behind progression. But how did one grow cursed energy in a world without it?
Then he remembered.
Not rumors.
Memories.
Of a Naruto movie.
One with a phantom beast. A creature made of writhing shadow and hunger. The Zero Tails—a parasitic chakra monster born of pure negative emotion. It had nested in the Land of Rivers.
It fed on hate.
Just like cursed spirits.
If it still existed—and if he could kill it before it grew too strong—then maybe, just maybe, the system would recognize it. Maybe that kind of energy could help finish Nanami's template.
It was a long shot. But it was something.
Ghost wrapped his scarf around his face, adjusted his weight, and moved. Before dawn, he would be on the merchant roads heading west. Toward the border.
Toward the Land of Rivers.
Toward his next step.