Chapter 52: The Fearsome Ranmaru
As Ranmaru entered his Curse Mark State One, everyone present stared in stunned disbelief.
The boy's body had transformed — now over two meters tall, his muscles bulged like sculpted stone, and his dark-gray skin gleamed with the hardness of rock.
A chilling aura, primal and beastlike, radiated from him in every direction, sweeping across the training field.
For a moment, absolute silence fell.
"Th–that… that's the same kid from before?!"
The shocked voice broke through the stillness.
In the crowd, Haruna's jaw hung open in a perfect "O," too stunned to even blink.
She simply couldn't comprehend it — the little boy who'd been shorter than her by half a head moments ago now looked like a walking mountain of muscle!
The chunin who had tried to stop him earlier stumbled backward instinctively, his voice trembling.
"Y–you… who are you?"
"My name's Ranmaru," he replied awkwardly, lifting one huge arm to scratch his small head out of habit.
His hand was easily two or three times larger than his head, and the movement made several watching shinobi flinch. One wrong move, and it looked like he could crush his own skull.
Nearby, Chojuro and Ringo Ameyuri sat frozen in disbelief, both wearing exaggerated expressions.
"Th–that's… the kid you brought back?" Chojuro stammered.
Ringo nodded stiffly. "That's him. What on earth did Lord Yuto do to him…"
Even from here, she could feel it — the overwhelming, dangerous presence radiating from Ranmaru.
If Yuto were present, he probably would've sighed helplessly. Ranmaru's condition was the result of both chance and obsession — something even he hadn't fully anticipated.
No one had realized just how deeply Ranmaru longed for a healthy body.
Years of immobility, combined with his desperate desire for recognition, had created an obsession that ran far deeper than Yuto had imagined.
The Curse Mark not only amplified chakra but also reflected the user's innermost desires, reshaping the body accordingly.
If this had been Orochimaru's typical Curse Seal, Ranmaru's transformation might have been grotesque — twisted limbs or warped flesh, limited by Orochimaru's restricted energy.
But Yuto's seal was different. He had allowed Ranmaru to absorb as much chakra as his body could withstand, without limit.
The result — the ultimate "Diamond Barbie" physique: a perfect, monstrous form of raw strength and symmetry.
Unfortunately, Ranmaru had only mastered the first stage of the seal. For reasons unknown, he could never enter the second stage — something Yuto still found puzzling, and admittedly, a little disappointing.
The Hozuki jonin finally snapped out of his daze, his sharp eyes shifting toward Chojuro.
There was no mistaking it — the boy wasn't from the Hidden Mist.
Sensing his gaze, Chojuro hesitated, thoughts racing.
He glanced at Ringo Ameyuri beside him — and suddenly remembered. Ranmaru was one of Lord Yuto's people.
Could his appearance here be on Yuto's orders?
After a brief moment of thought, Chojuro gave a small nod to the Hozuki jonin.
Seeing that subtle gesture, the jonin raised his hand and made a discreet signal in response.
Several hidden Mist shinobi quietly dispersed into the surrounding crowd.
Ranmaru's youthful face glowed with excitement as he gripped the massive blade once more. This time, the sword known as the Blast Blade: Shibuki rose effortlessly in his enormous hands. He had no idea he'd narrowly avoided being attacked moments earlier.
The chunin who had retreated several steps gulped nervously, then hesitantly stepped forward again. Looking up at Ranmaru's towering frame, he stammered, "If y–you're sure you've chosen the Blast Blade: Shibuki… then b–begin."
At his words, every gaze in the arena turned toward the boy.
It couldn't be helped — with that enormous, rock-like physique, Ranmaru drew all attention without even trying.
The Blast Blade was a weapon perfectly fused with explosive power. Its destructive force was tremendous, far surpassing most ninja swords. Among the Seven Swords, it ranked just below the Long Blade: Stitching Needle in technical difficulty — but in danger, it was the most lethal of them all.
For both wielder and enemy alike, the Blast Blade was perilous. One half of its edge was forged steel, the other wrapped in explosive tags built into the weapon's design.
A wielder had to control not only the number of detonations but also the exact timing. One mistake — and the explosion could destroy the user instead of the opponent.
This was why the Blast Blade was known as the most dangerous of the Seven Ninja Swords.
"Begin!" the chunin shouted sharply.
Bang!
The ground erupted beneath Ranmaru's feet with a thunderous crack. His enormous body moved with blinding speed, faster than any of the onlookers could comprehend.
Before the sound of the impact had even faded, Ranmaru was already in front of the chunin.
Instead of striking with the blade's explosive edge, he swung the flat of the sword like a giant paddle — slamming it downward with terrifying precision.
The chunin's vision blurred, and before he could react, the blade's flat surface hovered mere centimeters from his face.
Cold sweat streamed down his neck — the instinctive terror of standing face-to-face with death.
Whoosh!
The delayed wind pressure from Ranmaru's strike blasted forward like a miniature Wind Release, sending the chunin flying backward until he crashed violently into a nearby tree.
The entire field fell silent again.
That speed. That power. It was monstrous.
He hadn't even triggered the blade's explosive edge — pure physical strength alone had overwhelmed a trained chunin.
The assembled shinobi stared at him with newfound wariness. Facing someone like that in close combat was suicide. Only ninjutsu or genjutsu could hold him back — anything else was instant defeat.
Ranmaru rubbed the back of his neck shyly, a little embarrassed. He still wasn't used to his new strength and couldn't yet control it well.
"P–passed…"
A faint, broken voice came from the direction where the chunin had crashed, confirming what everyone already knew.
(End of Chapter)
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