Going to Battle
"There hasn't been much change, and there's no need to search for it; I can sense its approximate location. Of course, it can also sense mine."
"Hmm? What's going on?"
"So, how about I first tell you about the origin of that demon?"
"My apologies, I was presumptuous, Priestess. Please proceed."
"That demon is the embodiment of human malice, born from the world's evil thoughts. It possesses enough power to destroy everything. Only we Priestesses can seal it—but that requires the sacrifice of our lives."
"Lives?"
The shinobi present turned to her in shock.
"Yes. Our lives. That is the destiny of every Priestess of the Land of Demons. Our power exists solely to seal Mōryō."
"Seal it? Can't it be killed?" one of the Kumo shinobi demanded.
"No. Mōryō is immortal. Its physical body can be destroyed, but its spirit will never vanish."
At this, the leading shinobi from each village narrowed their eyes, clearly exchanging the same thought.
"How exactly do you seal it? And how does it revive in the first place?" Shirō asked.
The Priestess turned her gaze to him. "We have an inherited sealing tool. As for its revival, the method isn't fully known. But Mōryō has never truly died. Even when sealed away, it waits in the shadows until it can gather enough power to return."
Shirō glanced at the small child beside the Priestess. "Is there no way that doesn't cost your life? Such a young child shouldn't lose her mother."
The shinobi from the other villages looked at him in surprise. His concern didn't sound like something a typical ninja would say. Still, no one interrupted—after all, if the Priestess survived, their mission rank (and their lives) would fare better.
"Miroku…" The Priestess's eyes softened as she looked at her daughter, then she shook her head. "It's impossible. There has never been another way."
"Hah. Whether it succeeds or not isn't for you to worry about, Priestess," sneered the Kumogakure leader. "Just give us the information. As for that demon—heh—you'll soon learn what true power is."
Shirō hid a smirk at their arrogance. He wondered if they would still be so confident after actually facing Mōryō. Still, he kept his composure. The tragedies in this world were already too many; if he could help prevent another, he would.
"The greatest obstacle is not Mōryō itself, but its terracotta warriors. Unless we break through their defenses, no one can even get close enough to challenge him," the Priestess continued.
"Terracotta warriors?!" one of the Iwa-nin frowned.
"They are constructs filled with demonic chakra, each one stronger than an average shinobi. And… Mōryō also commands the souls of fallen ninja, twisted into his service."
"Tch. Dead men walking? Leave those to us." A shinobi from Kirigakure scoffed. "Trash pretending to fight. They won't stop us."
The Priestess gave a small bow. "Then let us discuss Mōryō's abilities…"
---
That night, Shikamaru was hunched over a table, sifting through intelligence reports. Shirō and the others were spread out, debating tactics from the day's briefing.
Just then, Nakamura entered.
"Captain, how is it? Do we have a plan?" Shirō asked, lowering his arms from where he had been leaning against the wall.
After the earlier meeting, the Priestess had explained she needed time to prepare her sealing ritual. So the village representatives convened separately to assign roles for the coming battle.
"Yes. The results are out. Tomorrow, our unit will handle the southern defense."
"Us? Can we hold it?" Shirō frowned. He could wipe out the enemy forces in one burst of power, but doing so would drain all his chakra and magical reserves. Even with his Magic Crystal, he'd only manage one more shot—and Mōryō's forces would just regenerate.
No, he couldn't do this alone.
"It's not just us," Nakamura reassured. "All five villages will defend the south together."
"That many?" Shirō raised an eyebrow. "If Sunagakure joined, it would already be enough."
Shikamaru shook his head. "It's about trust. The Land of Demons doesn't want to rely on just one village. But this way, the pressure's divided. The main offensive will fall on Miyue's squad tomorrow."
"Understood, Captain," they all replied.
Nakamura clapped his hands sharply. "Good. Rest up. Tomorrow will decide everything."
---
That night, Shirō checked his magical supplies and studied a sealing scroll by lamplight. He planned to test his Terrain Creation ability tomorrow—this was the perfect chance to put his training into practice.
But the next day, standing atop the fortress wall, he realized how naive that thought had been. There was no time for elaborate preparations.
The problem wasn't him—it was the others.
Though Xiao Guang and the younger members had trained hard over the past year, the sheer scale of Mōryō's forces was overwhelming. Terracotta warriors stretched across the horizon like an unending tide. Panic flickered in their eyes despite all their drills.
Shirō and Tai Yi covered them, intercepting enemies before the line could collapse. Still, Xiao Guang's inexperience showed.
She had just slashed at one of the terracotta warriors' heads, only for the puppet to keep advancing.
Clicking his tongue, Shirō nocked an arrow with an Exploding Tag and fired. The puppet burst apart behind her.
"Xiao—! Ugh, Xiao Guang! How many times have I told you? They're puppets! Cutting off the head does nothing—you need to smash them completely!"
"Got it, Brother Shirō!" she shouted back.
A blue flash split the air—Tai Yi's blade severed another puppet into fragments before it could grab Xiao Guang. "Don't waste breath replying on the battlefield. Just learn from him and keep fighting."
This time, Xiao Guang bit back her words and pressed forward in silence. Seeing her resolve, Tai Yi allowed himself a faint smile.
All around them, similar scenes were playing out.
Each village's prodigies fought with renewed vigor, their pride refusing to let them falter. They had come here as representatives, as the next generation of their villages. None of them would allow themselves to be outshone.
A moment later, Tai Yi glanced sideways and saw Xiao Guang's movements growing sluggish. He immediately shouted—
"Shirō!"
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