The man laughed.
It was loud, coarse, and full of confidence that hadn't existed minutes ago. He rolled his shoulders, thick arms flexing as chakra pulsed unevenly through his body.
"Didn't think a snot-nosed brat would cause this much trouble," he said, spitting to the side. "Guess shinobi really do think they can do anything."
He glanced around the camp.
A few bandits still stood nearby, gripping their weapons with white knuckles. Fear showed on their faces, but the man's presence kept them rooted.
"You see this?" he barked. "This is what power looks like. Don't matter how fast he is. He bleeds just like anyone else."
The men straightened slightly. Some swallowed and nodded.
Ken stayed quiet.
His back pressed against the tree, lungs finally pulling in air without burning. His arm throbbed. His ribs ached.
None of it mattered.
The chakra rolling off the man was obvious now. Thick. Wasteful. Forced.
Unlocked… but untrained.
The man stepped forward and raised his fists. Thick knuckle bracers wrapped around them, metal scarred and stained from use. He brought them together with a dull clang.
"Come on," he sneered. "Let's see what a real fight looks like."
Ken pushed off the tree and moved.
The boss lunged, swinging wide and hard. Ken sidestepped easily, the punch passing in front of his face with enough force to stir the air. The follow-up came just as clumsily.
Ken didn't retreat.
He slipped inside the man's reach and drove a kunai into the forearm, just below the bracer. The blade bit deep. The man roared and swung anyway, pain ignored.
Ken let the blow glance off his shoulder and pivoted, slashing behind the knee.
The leg buckled.
The gap showed immediately.
The man had strength, but no timing. No control. Every movement bled chakra and momentum alike.
Ken formed seals mid-step.
"Mud Ball."
At this range, the jutsu hit like a hammer.
The compact mass of earth slammed into the man's chest and lifted him off his feet. He crashed backward into the dirt, breath leaving him in a wet gasp.
Ken was on him before he could recover.
One clean strike.Then another.
It was over.
The boss lay still, chakra bleeding away uselessly into the ground.
Silence followed.
The remaining bandits didn't wait.
They turned and ran.
Ken moved after them.
There was no chase. No hesitation. He cut them down one by one as they fled into the trees, fear making them clumsy. Some tripped. Some begged.
None escaped.
When it was finished, the forest was quiet again.
Ken stood alone among the aftermath, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline faded.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe properly.
He looked back at the camp.
Tents torn apart. Bodies scattered. Smoke still drifting lazily upward.
He exhaled slowly.
I rushed it.
The mistake was clear now.
He'd stopped too early. Assumed too much. After the second kill, he could have kept going. Quietly.
Instead, he had panicked about the blood and blown everything open.
It had worked.
But it had been sloppy.
Next time…
Ken wiped his blade clean and sheathed it.
He turned toward the path back to the village, injuries aching with every step.
The mission was complete.