The Devil Standing in the Forest of Swords!
Meanwhile, the Grass Ninja, after being attacked, fell into temporary chaos, but quickly regained order under the command of their Jōnin.
They gathered their personnel, secured defenses, and began counting casualties. Slowly, the camp shifted from confusion to discipline.
At that moment, Shirō could only watch their transition, powerless to stop it.
He was busy recovering his chakra. At best, he could fire a few arrows, but he hadn't even managed to Project a Noble Phantasm. For now, he had to rely on patience—and his bonds.
Fortunately, he had just swallowed a military ration pill, and his chakra recovery was accelerating.
Unfortunately, by the time he had regained a reasonable reserve, the Grass Ninja were already organized. At this point, unless they made the first move, Shirō had no reason to waste arrows.
Even so, he had already dealt them a crippling blow. The earlier detonation had wiped out at least thirty shinobi!
Without the interference of the Counter Force in this world, the Noble Phantasm's power retained its pure lethality.
Still, Shirō knew the truth: most of those casualties had been Genin. A handful were Chūnin. The Jōnin remained unharmed.
But that was enough. Reducing even the lowest ranks mattered. A sword still had weight, even if swung by a Genin.
---
Perched on a summoned flying bird, Shirō kept watch from above. Whenever a shinobi tried to slip away, his bowstring thrummed, losing a Cloud-Piercing Arrow that cut them down instantly.
He focused on targeting Chūnin first, thinning the enemy's backbone. At first, the tactic worked—until they became wary and learned to anticipate his arrows. From then on, only the careless or overconfident were struck down. Once, he managed to explode a boastful Chūnin with an arrow rigged with an explosive tag, but that was rare.
He had to conserve chakra. Projection magecraft was taxing, and overuse of ration pills carried dangerous side effects. Ordinary arrows would suffice for now.
Because he always changed his position after shooting, darting across the sky on his bird, the Grass Ninja could never pin him down. They only knew there was a phantom archer haunting them—one arrow to flush them out, a second to kill them without fail.
Their Jōnin leader seethed in frustration. Every arrow came from a different angle. Every time they advanced, they were forced back into camp. Clearly, someone wanted them trapped. But without knowing who or how many enemies were out there, they could only wait in helpless stalemate.
---
Even as he contained them, Shirō realized his earlier mistake.
He had set countless traps near his initial vantage point, expecting them to chase him there. But now, pinned inside their camp, they would never stumble into them.
It was wasted effort. He would have to dismantle the traps himself later.
Smiling wryly at his own miscalculation, he turned his focus back to the camp.
The probing continued—enemy scouts trying to break through, his arrows keeping them hemmed in. An hour passed with no breakthroughs.
By then, Shirō spotted movement in the darkness: Nakamura and the others had arrived. As planned, he gave them ten minutes to rest, then loosed the agreed-upon signal arrow.
The Grass Ninja, already used to dodging arrows, ignored it.
But Nakamura's team understood. They surged forward on cue.
Once again, Nakamura and Taiyi engaged the enemy Jōnin, while Shikamaru and Shirō prepared to handle the fifty-plus shinobi left in camp.
Their numbers were intimidating, but their strength was mixed. Against a coordinated team, they stood little chance. Still, the pressure was real.
Descending from the skies, Shirō projected a cursed spear as he fell. The weapon pulsed with crimson light as he thrust it into the ground.
"Kazikli Bey—Impaling Fortress!"
A shockwave of red ripples spread out from him. From beneath the earth, countless blackened spears erupted upward, impaling enemy shinobi where they stood.
This time, he deliberately controlled the projections. Each spear targeted a vital point, granting quick death rather than prolonged suffering.
His reserves limited him—he could only manifest enough to kill thirty in one strike, instead of the hundreds this Noble Phantasm was truly capable of.
Even so, the result was devastating. More than half the enemy force fell in an instant.
Blood pooled at Shirō's feet, spears jutting from corpses like a forest of iron stakes.
The survivors froze, unable to advance.
Shirō calmly popped another ration pill into his mouth, masking the drain the Noble Phantasm had placed on him. He signaled subtly to Shikamaru, then began to advance.
Each step forward sent the remaining Grass Ninja stumbling backward. By the time the last spear dissolved into motes of crimson light, their fear outweighed their training.
---
It was time for the finale.
Biting his thumb, Shirō rapidly weaved hand signs.
"Summoning Technique!"
A surge of chakra exploded in smoke, and when it cleared, a massive serpent loomed before the Grass Ninja. Blue scales gleamed under the moonlight, its very aura radiating that sinister chakra the ninja world had learned to associate with Orochimaru of the Sannin.
The Grass shinobi broke instantly.
"It's one of the Sannin's snakes!"
"Run!"
"Help!"
Their morale, already strained by repeated ambushes and massacres, collapsed outright.
Jonin absent, dozens of comrades slaughtered, and now faced with a serpent tied to one of Konoha's legendary Sannin—the Grass Ninja scattered in terror.
And Shirō, standing amidst fading spears and blood-soaked ground, truly looked like a devil born in a forest of swords.
---
Noble Phantasm Data
Name: Kazikli Bey – Impaling Fortress
Rank: C
Bearer: Vlad III, the Wallachian Prince, also known as "Vlad the Impaler" and the historical inspiration for Dracula.
Form: Demonic Spear.
Ability: Projects a cursed fortress of impaling stakes, punishing foes for injustice, immorality, or violence. Targets marked for "purging" suffer increased pain and damage.
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