The Land of Whirlpools lay between the Lands of Fire and Water.
Once, it had its own shinobi village.
The Uzumaki—masters of sealing—had founded Uzushiogakure here. They had allied closely with Konoha's Senju.
But that was all history now.
Uzushio had been erased beneath a coalition of nations and clans that feared its sealing arts.
Uzumaki survivors scattered into hiding. The Land of Whirlpools itself collapsed from an orderly small nation into a lawless swamp where rogue shinobi ran wild—and civilians drowned in misery.
Ren didn't need to think hard to know Mist had likely played its part in the shadows.
And he suspected Uzushio's fall had a good chance of being, at least in part, Mist's work.
They were too close to Konoha. Their sealing was too troublesome.
If you don't kill them early, your expansion hits a wall.
…Not that Mist's expansion ever went anywhere.
Ren kept those thoughts to himself.
Disguised as a wandering shinobi, he entered a small city that still clung to a thin layer of "prosperity."
He didn't make it far before—
"Hey! Are you blind?! You bumped my shoulder!"
"P-Please! Please forgive me, shinobi-sama! I—I'll pay, I'll pay!"
A drunken rogue shinobi grabbed a passing civilian by the collar, oozing arrogance and cheap alcohol.
Ren sighed.
He'd only just entered the city, and he'd already seen more than one rogue stirring trouble. The civilians' eyes were bored, numb—like they'd watched this scene a thousand times.
They didn't even flinch.
There was no hope in them.
Only emptiness.
Only resignation.
Mist wants this country to stay chaotic as a buffer. Fine.
But Konoha too? They just… let this rot?
So much for alliances. So much for the Uzumaki crest on their jōnin jackets.
Ren clicked his tongue.
Still—if rogues were this bold, then tracking recent rogue-shinobi deaths would be the easiest way to find the four defectors.
Those deserters were Mist ANBU elites.
Against a raging Uchiha monster, they'd tremble.
But against these trash rogues—kids from nameless countries who might not even know a C-rank jutsu—
They'd slaughter without hesitation.
And sure enough, a shopkeeper's desperate voice drifted from a storefront nearby.
"Please… please… we really can't pay anymore…"
"Two nights ago I already gave four passing shinobi most of what I had! This shop is all I have left—please, just give me half a month—half a month!"
A harsh, lazy voice answered.
"Huh? Why would I care that other shinobi already robbed you? I only care whether I get paid."
"If you can't pay…"
"Then your daughter can."
"Yeah, she's young, but she'll still sell for something. Move, you filthy thing."
The shop's door exploded outward.
A tall, brutish rogue stepped out, strutting, a trembling little girl tucked beneath his arm. Behind him, the shopkeeper lay on the floor, blood in his mouth, a clear bootprint stamped across his face.
Ren stepped into the man's path.
"Move." The brute sneered. "You want to die too?"
He didn't even wait for an answer—his leg snapped up in a kick meant to fold Ren like paper.
Crack.
No one saw what Ren did.
They only saw the brute's right leg twist upward at an impossible angle—more than a hundred degrees—turning into a grotesque, bleeding knot of flesh and bone.
"A-AH—MY LEG! MY LEG!!!"
The man collapsed, rolling and screaming like an oversized worm.
Ren plucked the little girl from his grip and tossed her gently toward the shopkeeper, who had managed to crawl upright.
"Boss Iwasaka?! Bastard—everyone, get him!"
"Cut him into a stump and hang him at the town entrance! Let everyone see what happens when you resist us!"
Rogues swarmed in from the street—more than a dozen, brandishing mismatched weapons, eyes bloodshot with feral bravado.
To civilians, it was terrifying.
To Ren, they were just fuel for Dark Harvest.
He bared his teeth.
"Hmph. I was going to quietly dig for information first…"
"But you came to me."
He pulled a kunai from the pouch he'd worn for disguise—an old tool, one he hadn't needed in a long time.
And he smiled.
"Die, trash."
Advance Chapters available on Patreon
patreon.com/Inkveil_