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Clearing Out
"Sizzle!"
Shirō's movements paused for a fraction of a second as he was setting up the magic. Intelligence from Gray Snake had arrived at the same moment the poison reached its final stage of deployment, disrupting the flow of his spell. As a result, the formation collapsed.
Fortunately, it wasn't a serious loss. The cost was minimal, well within what he could afford.
Shirō calmly tidied up the damaged portions of the magic runes, dispelling the unstable structure. Once finished, he draped the Invisibility Cloth over himself and set off.
His first target was a small band of so-called half–Mountain Thieves—rogue ninja who survived by taking bounties, but who would just as readily rob merchant caravans whenever the opportunity arose. According to Gray Snake's assessment, the strongest among them were two Chūnin; the remaining three were merely Genin.
The distinction hardly mattered. They were ninja, and this behavior was hardly uncommon. Truly upright ninja were rare, especially outside the major villages.
What genuinely unsettled Shirō was how Gray Snake obtained such detailed intelligence.
Knowing their numbers and approximate strength was understandable—but even their past experiences and habitual behavior were accurately recorded. Once or twice could be dismissed as coincidence, but every report was like this.
It was unsettling.
Unfortunately, Gray Snake refused to explain, and Shirō had long since given up trying to trick the snake into talking.
When Shirō arrived, the group was exactly where the intelligence had indicated—a forest clearing. Three were resting, while two stood guard.
Under the concealment of the Invisibility Cloth, Shirō narrowed his eyes. Chakra began to circulate slowly through his body, a faint white glow flickering beneath the cloak.
The Yew Bow manifested in his hands, along with five arrows.
He quietly retreated a few steps, drove the arrows into the soil, and then drew the bow in one smooth motion.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The arrows were loose in two rapid volleys.
Each arrow struck its target cleanly—the two guards and the three resting ninja—before any of them could react. At the same time, Shirō murmured:
"Yew Bow."
In an instant, the five bodies transformed into trees, frozen mid-motion.
Ordinarily, the transformation would have been followed by an immediate detonation—but under Shirō's deliberate control, that effect was suppressed. In this state, the concealment was perfect.
No noise. No traces.
Shirō dismissed the Yew Bow and quickly swallowed several pills.
While releasing a D-rank Noble Phantasm wasn't particularly taxing on its own, he had used it repeatedly. Five near-instantaneous releases still placed considerable strain on his body.
Thankfully, his Noble Phantasm was a counterfeit, drastically reducing the burden. Combined with his growing tolerance for this level of exertion, the damage was manageable. He would still suffer internal injuries, but his expression and movements remained steady.
His specially prepared medicine—refined through repeated experimentation—took effect almost immediately.
That said, even after recovering, he knew better than to push his luck. Using another Noble Phantasm in the next battle was out of the question. He needed time.
Fortunately, Shirō was far from helpless without them.
His next target was a band of ordinary villains. The strongest among them were a handful of samurai; the rest were merely stronger-than-average civilians.
They survived solely due to their numbers—and because they had never provoked a ninja. Otherwise, they would have been wiped out long ago.
This also confirmed that the location Shirō had chosen was truly remote. Hardly any ninja passed through.
"Still feasting?" Shirō muttered as he observed them from a distance, watching the group drink and gorge themselves in a canyon. "Are villains treated this well nowadays?"
Shaking his head, he circled around to the rear and began setting up magic.
Nothing elaborate—just enough to confuse them and seal the exits.
By the time he returned to the canyon's entrance, they were still eating and laughing. Their lack of vigilance was almost impressive.
Shirō crouched slightly.
Blue patterns spread across his limbs as Reinforcement surged through his body.
Then—he charged.
The first two died instantly.
The rest barely had time to react before Shirō was among them. The gap in strength was absolute. Every charge, every clash, ended in death within a single exchange.
Worse still, no matter how desperately they tried to flee, they always found themselves inexplicably running back into the canyon.
Panic set in.
Some begged. Some screamed in rage. Others froze in terror.
Shirō showed no mercy.
His Eight Extremities Fist was unleashed without restraint. Shoulders, elbows, knees, wrists—every strike was lethal. His entire body became a weapon.
Within minutes, only corpses remained.
Shirō wiped his hands and carefully searched the canyon, checking for stragglers—or captives.
There were none.
They didn't even have facilities to hold prisoners. His idea of seizing laborers vanished on the spot.
Still, while there were no people, there was money.
Though the haul was small, it was better than nothing.
After collecting the spoils, Shirō stepped out of the canyon. He paused briefly, removed a tube of blood from his sleeve, and summoned the snake group from Ryūchi Cave.
"I'll leave it to you."
Without another glance, he left.
For the rest of the day, Shirō continued clearing the surrounding area.
Stronger enemies were eliminated from afar with projected Noble Phantasms. Weaker groups were dealt with directly, their bodies left for the snakes.
In this region, strength determines behavior. The stronger one was, the less likely they were to form groups. Only the weak clustered together for survival.
After all, none of them were good people—especially the strong.
Trust was nonexistent.
The weak had no choice but to band together. The strong saw no reason to share profits or risk betrayal.
Ironically, this paranoia kept them alive.
And it was precisely what allowed Shirō to eliminate them one by one.
Once the area was fully cleared, Shirō returned to the site Gray Snake had interrupted earlier and completed the setup of a simple magical barrier—one that would repel both people and beasts.
Exhausted, he leaned against a tree and rested.
The Workshop could wait until tomorrow.
He had fought all day, releasing his Noble Phantasms far more than was safe. By nightfall, he didn't dare use them again.
Before sleeping, Shirō summoned Blue Snake to stand guard.
Only then did he close his eyes.
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