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Chapter 83: Thunder and Magma
Silence, thick and acrid with the smell of ozone and burnt flesh, settled over the scorched clearing. The Fire Bodhidharma had done its work, leaving behind smoldering ash and charred remnants where shinobi had once stood. The flames born of the Burn-Burn Fruit were not of this world; their temperature was purer, more absolute, than any fire-natured chakra.
Behind the hastily erected Earth-Style Walls, Iwa Tsuchino's face was a mask of stormy fury. The desire to tear the masked ANBU apart warred with a cold, tactical dread. His abilities… they make no sense. Is it a Kekkei Genkai? But which of the Five Great Villages has a flame-based bloodline limit like this? The ninja world had fire-wielders, but none who could turn their body to living flame.
The calmest person present was, ironically, Tsunade. Cradled in the epicenter of the violence, she could analyze with a clinical detachment born of shock. She had felt his arm dissolve into fire, not a chakra construct, but a genuine elemental transformation. No clan in Konoha, no shinobi she'd ever heard of, possessed such a power. The mystery of his identity now burned brighter in her mind than concern for her own safety. And with each passing second, the solid feel of him, the rhythm of his breathing beneath the armor… it tickled a memory she couldn't quite grasp.
Ragnar's gaze swept over the huddled, defensive line of Iwa-nin. In the shinobi world, there was no inherent right or wrong on the battlefield, only conflicting missions and the will to survive. He bore these men no personal hatred, yet he had already cut down over a dozen. A grim, pragmatic truth settled in him. To end this, to protect Tsunade and complete his mission, he had to finish it.
Hmph.
Yama was slung across his back. His right palm came up, fingers curling inward. A sphere of chakra, white and jagged, bloomed in his grasp. The sound was instantly familiar—a thousand shrill birds crying out in electric fury. Lightning-natured chakra, honed to a razor's edge. But he didn't stop at the Chidori's form. The chakra shifted, extended, morphing from a sphere into a blade of pure, condensed lightning. A sword of thunder over seven meters long, crackling with wild, spitting arcs of white energy.
The secret principles of the White Fang's swordsmanship, gleaned from Sakumo's scroll, merged with his own lightning affinity. The cells in his body buzzed with galvanic energy. In one fluid motion, he drew the lightning sword back and thrust it forward, not with the blade itself, but with the energy it projected.
"Lightning Cutter: Severing Flash!"
VZZZRAAAACK!
Space itself seemed to rip. A blinding line of pure lightning tore across the clearing, a beam of concentrated annihilation.
Iwa Tsuchino's instincts screamed. "FULL DEFENSIVE STANCE!" he bellowed.
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!"
A frantic chorus of shouts rose as the remaining Iwa-nin slapped the ground. Multiple layered earth walls erupted before them, forming a thick, rocky bulwark.
It was futile.
The Severing Flash was not a sword to be blocked; it was a line of force that disregarded matter. Where the beam of lightning passed, the dense earth walls offered no more resistance than paper. They were sheared through with a clean, sizzling hiss, the cut surfaces glassy and smoking.
Tsuchino, Shimu, and the survivors threw themselves aside in desperate retreat. The beam continued, its lethal length finally expended. In its wake, a perfect, terrifying line was etched across the landscape. Trees a hundred meters behind the earth walls toppled with groaning crashes, their trunks sliced on a perfect diagonal. And within that line, seven more Iwa-nin who hadn't moved fast enough simply… came apart. Severed cleanly at the waist or chest, they fell in two pieces, the cauterized wounds offering only a brief, horrific spectacle before the blood began to pool.
One sword strike. The roar of falling timber and the wet thuds of bisected bodies were the only sounds.
Iwa Tsuchino stared, his mind refusing to process the sheer, dismissive power. Indestructible. Unblockable. You can't even get close… The tactical part of his brain shut down, overridden by primal shock.
The other Jonin, Shimu, found his voice, hoarse with disbelief. "You… you're the commander of Konoha's ANBU?!"
Ragnar offered no answer. He let the lightning sword dissipate into crackling motes. In its place, Yama was back in his hand. He took a single step forward and brought the black blade down in a simple, vertical chop. No named technique, just perfected motion and overwhelming force.
After the horror of the lightning beam, none of the Iwa-nin dared stand their ground. They scattered like leaves in a gale, putting as much distance as possible between themselves and that terrifying arc of darkness.
When the air stilled, Tsuchino, breathing heavily, took stock. His stomach turned to ice. Of a force of over thirty, only six figures remained standing. Himself, Jonin Shimu, Special Jonin Hi no Ishi, and three chunin who had survived by sheer luck and cowardice. If they returned without completing their objective, after such catastrophic losses… it would be a disgrace that spelled the end of his career, if not his life.
Ragnar felt no elation. The chunin were incidental. The three jonin-level threats before him were the true problem. They had to be removed.
"Captain Tsuchino," the female ninja, Hi no Ishi, said, her voice tight but controlled. She was young, with sharp eyes that held a calculating fire. "The three of us must attack together. Three jonin, coordinated. No single ANBU, no matter how strange his tricks, can withstand that."
Tsuchino gritted his teeth, the last of his hesitation burning away in the furnace of desperation. "Agreed. Full power. We kill him, then secure Tsunade."
"Three jonin coordinating… it will be difficult. Find an opening to retreat," Tsunade murmured, her strength fading, making her voice thin.
"Don't worry," Ragnar said, the two words flat and absolute.
Hi no Ishi moved first. Her hands flashed through seals with practiced speed, ending at her lips.
"Lava Release: Molenic Rock Technique!"
She spat. Not a fireball, but a glob of superheated, semi-liquid rock—magma—that roared through the air, trailing smoke and casting an oppressive heat.
A Lava Release user, Ragnar noted, his mind working coolly. A Kekkei Genkai, combining earth and fire. In Iwa, that likely means a connection to the Tsuchikage's line. The genetics of bloodline limits were a curious thing in this world—a breakthrough by one genius, etched into the clan's very DNA for generations.
The magma ball was upon him. He didn't dodge. Yama rose and fell in a vertical slash, cutting the molten mass cleanly in two. The halves splattered harmlessly to the sides, sizzling and hardening on the scorched earth.
But the attack was a distraction. The other two jonin were already weaving their own assault.
"Fire Release: Dragon Flame Bullet!"
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Detonation!"
"Earth Release: Earth Flow Spears!"
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
A coordinated symphony of destruction. Dragon-shaped flames coiled alongside a massive, unstable fireball. Jagged stone spears erupted from the ground in a converging pattern. A gust of wind roared in, not to extinguish, but to fan and intensify the flames, creating a roaring, inescapable storm of earth and fire aimed at one point: him.
Standing at the center of the converging cataclysm, holding Tsunade, an idea—wild, untested, and born of his unique duality—flashed into Ragnar's mind. If it worked… it could end all three jonin in one devastating move.
(End of Chapter)
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