Captain Jace barked orders like a man trying to drown out his own fear. "They said this place is a mutant headquarters and declared war on the government—so don't act surprised when we take control! Move in and secure the area!"
Ryuuto watched the tactical team pour over the perimeter like ants. He felt the cold tightness in his chest every time someone spat the word mutant like it was a verdict. He wasn't born here, but this place had been home for ten years. The insult landed like a slap.
"Mutants are trash!" one of the officers growled. The words echoed.
Something in Ryuuto snapped. He landed behind the low wall, chakra humming along his skin. He let the ground take his weight and punched a seal into the earth.
Earth Style — Earth Movement Core!
A chunk of soil the size of a van ripped skyward and slammed into the line of parked cruisers. Metal buckled and glass spiderwebbed. Officers who'd thought cars were cover found themselves suddenly exposed as vehicles overturned into chaotic heaps.
"Leave now!" Ryuuto shouted across the wall. "Or I'll make sure you don't get up again!"
"Beat him down!" someone roared, and the shooting began.
Ryuuto ducked, narrow misses grinding dust into his hair. He rose, palms pressing into the dirt again. Earth Style — Heavy Rock Impact! A stone slab leapt up, deflecting projectiles like a living shield.
On the other side of the wall, Charles' voice slipped into his head—soft but urgent. Ryuuto. I just confirmed it. Magneto slaughtered nearly ninety percent of Sixton. He called our academy a headquarters on purpose. This is bait. We don't fight back with murder. We're not killers.
Ryuuto felt the old ache of that argument—peace, restraint. He answered without moving his lips. Professor, I'm tired of promises. Tired of living beneath people who spit on us. If walking quietly means dying later, I'd rather punch the lightning first.
Charles' thought was a low, sorrowful thunder. Don't let this bitterness rule you. If you strike first, it becomes a war. Then who will defend the next generation?
Ryuuto let the anger sit like fuel. He didn't speak back. He had other tools.
He dropped into a squat, both palms flat. The air snapped; a six-pointed summoning seal flared around him—ancient and ugly and perfect.
"Summoning — Ten Thousand Snakes!"
The world hiccuped. A column of smoke bloomed, spitting scales and the smell of wet earth. When it cleared, a monstrous serpent—Ten Thousand Snakes incarnate—reared over the wall. Its body was a purple nightmare striped with black. Where it moved, the playground shrank to insect scale.
The officers froze in place, eyes wide at a thing that casually towered like a ruined monument. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its armored scales. The presence of that many serpents—alive, hungry—turned bravery into a thin film over raw fear.
"Looks like you're almost healed," the snake rumbled to Ryuuto, but loud enough that the nearby radios crawled with static. "There's a pool in my world. It speeds up recovery. If you need it, jump there."
Ryuuto blinked. Not necessary, he thought, and the snake snorted amusedly.
The first officer got eaten. It was ugly and quick and final—the sort of thing nightmares teach you to fear. Others stumbled back, firing wildly. Gas canisters arced toward the windows; the snakes tasted them and laughed.
"This poison is nothing to me," the leader hissed. "I am Ten Thousand Snakes. Your chemicals are toys."
With a rush the venom sprayed—dark, corrosive—and uniforms smoked, helmets liquefied. Men tried to rip off masks, but the fumes had already done their work; coughing doubled them over. Panic shredded discipline.
Ryuuto stood on the wall and watched as the Ten Thousand Snakes dismantled the incursion with surgical cruelty. He felt nothing and everything at once—an odd, cold clarity that felt like survival.
Shion chimed in his ear like a cat that stole the cream. [Nice work, Host. Five life potions unlocked. Don't get sentimental.]
Ryuuto let the silence sit. The academy had been defended. The price was terrible; his eyes were still hard. He imagined the country watching. He imagined the headlines. He imagined what would come next.
He had wanted to be a protector. Tonight he had become something closer to an indifferent storm.
…..
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