Bonus Chapter for 150 Power Stones. Thanksss for thatđź’•
Chapter 30: The Rakshasa's First Duel(Bonus Chapter)
In the ANBU Dueling Arena, the air was thick with silent intensity.
Two masked figures clashed in the center. One wore the mask of a boar, his physique noticeably larger and bulkier than the norm, yet he moved with surprising, deceptive agility, weaving through a storm of shuriken.
His opponent wore a standard cat mask, his build unremarkable, offering no clues to his identity—the way of the shadows.
The Boar and the Cat danced a lethal waltz, kunai scraping and sparking in a rapid-fire staccato that echoed sharply in the chamber's tomblike quiet. The surrounding ANBU operatives were statues, their breath held, their eyes absorbing every detail.
The Boar's size and raw strength began to tell. In the close-quarter exchange, the Cat ninja was forced back, parrying blows that rattled his guard.
BANG!
A final powerful shove from the Boar created distance. The Cat ninja didn't hesitate. His hands flew through a series of seals, fast and economical. "Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
He inhaled, his chest expanding, and exhaled a roaring sphere of orange flame. Heat washed over the front rows of spectators. The speed of the cast was telling—this was no academy student; this was a professional killer with refined efficiency.
The Boar, seemingly caught mid-step, had no time for seals or evasion.
But as the fireball closed in, something impossible happened. The Boar's right arm swelled, distorting under the fabric of his sleeve before bursting free, transformed into a monstrous, giant limb. The enlarged palm, fingers splayed, slammed forward into the heart of the fireball with a sound like a wet towel smothering a blaze. The flames guttered and died under the sheer, overwhelming force of the blow, leaving only tendrils of smoke.
"Expansion Jutsu," Ragnar observed from the sidelines, his voice a low murmur.
"You recognize it?" Tengu glanced at him, a hint of surprise in his tone.
Ragnar didn't elaborate. He knew it, and more. This was a secret technique of the Akimichi Clan, allowing the user to selectively enlarge parts of their body. It existed outside the five basic chakra natures, a transformation rooted in the potent, life-giving power of Yang Release.
If I could learn that… Ragnar's mind raced. Expansion Jutsu to magnify a limb, then layer it with Armament Haki… The image was potent—a fist the size of a boulder, sheathed in unbreakable black armor. It was a combination that spoke of obliterating force.
On the field, the Boar ninja, having extinguished the fireball with his giant hand, didn't pause. He vanished with a Body Flicker, reappearing in front of the stunned Cat ninja, the same colossal fist already descending like a warhammer.
The Cat ninja flinched, a cold sweat breaking out. "I yield!"
The match was over. The Boar stood victorious, the sheer, weird power of his clan's technique leaving a clear impression. The Cat ninja melted back into the crowd. The Boar remained in the center, a clear, unspoken challenge hanging in the silent air. No one immediately stepped forward to face that expanding fist.
"With your own… unique strength, you should test it," Tengu suggested, his voice barely audible.
Ragnar gave a slight nod. He stepped forward, the motion drawing the gaze of every operative in the room. A ripple of silent attention passed through them. His mask—the blood-red, ferocious Rakshasa—was rare, almost unheard of. It marked him as an unknown, a new variable in their closed ecosystem.
The Boar ninja watched him approach, posture wary. Without a word, both raised their hands, forming the standard, single-handed seal of confrontation—the duel was accepted.
No speeches. No boasts. Behind the masks, they were ciphers. This was freedom of the purest, most violent kind.
The Boar moved first. Three shuriken leapt from his pouch into his giant, now-normalized hand and were hurled in a tight, horizontal line.
Ragnar sidestepped with casual ease, the weapons thudding into the stone floor behind him.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The shuriken were a feint. The Boar had already flickered, using the distraction to close the distance, his normal-sized fist driving for Ragnar's torso—a classic combination.
Ragnar's analysis was cold and swift. Akimichi Clan. Primary strengths: taijutsu, brute force via Expansion, high stamina. Likely weakness: sustained top-speed mobility. They rely on bursts via Body Flicker.
The fist arrived, carrying compressed air.
"Shave."
Ragnar disappeared. Not in a puff of chakra-smoke, but in a violent displacement of air. He reappeared behind the Boar.
"So fast!" the Boar grunted, already spinning, arms crossing to guard his back.
BANG!
Ragnar's punch, thrown with his full, monstrous physical strength—without Haki—landed. The impact was solid, a dull, meaty sound. The Boar's guard held, but his feet skidded several paces back on the stone, his boots scraping loudly.
Ragnar didn't press. He used the recoil to create distance again, his movements clean and controlled.
"Impressive power," the Boar acknowledged, flexing his stinging arms.
"I see your pattern," Ragnar stated, his voice filtered and flat by the mask. "You're strong, not slow. But your mass is a tax. In a prolonged engagement, your stamina will deplete, and your speed will decay. You'll be left with the Flicker, predictable and chakra-intensive. Like your opening move."
"Humph! Arrogant!" the Boar snorted. His right arm bulged again, muscle and skin distorting, expanding into the terrifying giant limb. "You talk of prolonged fights. Try facing this head-on!"
He didn't wait. The giant fist, like a falling tree trunk, hammered down with enough force to crater the floor.
Ragnar didn't retreat.
"Armament Haki: Hardening."
His own right fist, normal-sized, darkened to the color of forged iron. He didn't swing up to meet the blow; he simply held his fist in the descending fist's path, a black anvil awaiting the hammer.
BOOOOOOM!
The collision was seismic. A shockwave of compressed air, visible as a white ring, exploded outwards from the point of impact. The stone beneath their feet didn't just crack; it pulverized in a web of fractures that spread meters in every direction. Dust plumed into the air.
For a moment, they were locked, a titanic struggle between immense size and impossible density. The giant fist quivered, unable to drive the black fist down an inch.
The Boar's eyes, visible behind his mask, widened in shock. But he was a seasoned fighter. His other arm, still normal, now ballooned with terrifying speed, swinging in a devastating, sweeping backhand aimed to crush Ragnar from the side.
The Rakshasa mask remained impassive. The real fight was just beginning.
(End of Chapter)
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