Sasuke Uchiha's mind was caught in a vicious cycle of comparison and defeat. His inherent desire for supremacy, the Uchiha legacy, drove him to constantly measure himself against others. The brutality of the results was shattering.
He had surpassed the level of a typical Jōnin in physical strength, only to discover his opponents were not only aware of the jar system but had seemingly outspent him tenfold.
"How do these mercenaries acquire such vast wealth? Why are they so rich?" The burning question was irrelevant to survival, yet it screamed in his mind.
He gripped the jagged hilt of his broken sword, his eyes frantically scanning the dense, suffocating mist, trying to pinpoint the attacker—the invisible force that had riddled his body with ice arrows.
"Haku, finish this," Zabuza's voice cut through the fog, tight with impatience. He knew they were on borrowed time. If the other young shinobi—Naruto—managed to home in on the sound, Zabuza would be isolated against a group, and even Haku's phenomenal new speed might be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
"Yes!" Haku's voice confirmed the order, sounding closer now.
Sasuke's senses screamed a warning. He sprang forward, instinctively positioning himself in front of the two non-combatants, Rin and Sakura. The powerful healing potion Rin had administered had miraculously sealed his numerous wounds—a fact he barely registered in the face of imminent death.
Shh... shh... shh...
A torrent of ice arrows sliced through the thick mist like vengeful spirits. They were coming faster, more numerous, and with less predictable trajectories than before.
Cannot evade!
Sasuke focused with desperate intensity, attempting to track the faint ripples in the fog that betrayed the projectiles' path. It was futile.
Fffft-ffft-ffft-ffft!
Just as before, Sasuke's body was instantly and brutally pinned. He shielded his head and core, enduring the fresh wave of agonizing pain as the icy bolts drove deep into his limbs and torso. He bit down hard, preventing a scream, refusing to give his invisible tormentor the satisfaction of hearing his pain.
Rin, a blur of practiced efficiency, rushed forward immediately, applying the red healing potions and rapidly pulling out the shafts. The wounds sealed with miraculous speed.
"Truly miraculous," the voice from the mist sighed, the tone detached, almost clinical, suggesting the unseen figure could observe the entire scene. "But even with limitless restorative medicine, the end is inevitable. If you maintain this position, you will eventually succumb to shock or a critical hit."
"Damn you! What series of jars did you purchase?!" Sasuke rasped, forcing air into his lungs. He was staring death in the face—a death brought on not by skill, but by an opponent's sheer investment. A single, momentary lapse would result in immediate fatality.
"My apologies, but the next strike will not be aimed at Dazna," the soft, genderless voice announced, chillingly calm. "The target will be the pink-haired girl directly behind you."
Sasuke's mind recoiled in horror. "You fiend!"
The threat was absolute. Sakura, currently in a state of near-catatonia from shock, would have died instantly had Sasuke not managed to hold his ground.
"I have no desire for unnecessary bloodshed," Haku explained softly, yet the chilling practicality of the words made them worse. "But for Zabuza-sama's ambition, I will make myself as cruel as necessary."
Haku fell silent. The dense mist absorbed all sound. Sasuke heard the terrifying absence of noise as the attacker armed the next volley.
A sudden dread washed over him: Haku was no longer aiming for containment.
The sharp, deadly arrows flew, silently, at an entirely new, invisible velocity.
"Damn it! DAMN IT!"
Sasuke's muscles locked, strained to the limit. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, attempted to draw in every possible detail, every minute shift in the atmosphere. He pushed his vision, his entire consciousness, beyond its physical threshold.
And in that ultimate moment of crisis, a threshold was broken.
He saw it. A fleeting, crystalline trace in the white fog—the true trajectory of the ghostly projectiles.
Sasuke wildly swung the broken Qingfeng hilt, batting aside the deadliest shots aimed at Sakura. It was a desperate, almost impossible defense.
He managed to deflect the killing blows, but a handful of arrows still slipped past his fractured defense, penetrating Sakura's protective vest. Rin immediately rushed to administer the emergency medicine and comfort the screaming girl.
"I... I can see it!" Sasuke's lips slowly stretched into a thin, triumphant smile, though his body was still racked with pain. "Next time, your arrows will not touch my teammates!"
He felt the strange, terrifying heat behind his eyes.
It was his Kekkei Genkai—the Sharingan—awakening under the extreme pressure of life-or-death combat. Even in its initial state, the world had slowed, and the speed of the opponent had become marginally comprehensible.
"A Bloodline Limit, how intriguing," the voice of the enemy sighed from the mist, sounding more resigned than impressed. "But you already know the catastrophic potential of the Administrator's Jars. My advice remains: Abandon this mission now."
A new, potent wave of dread—a premonition—seized Sasuke.
Suddenly, the dense, oppressive blanket of fog began to lift.
Wind?
A violent, localized gust of invisible force swept across the bridge, tearing through the mist like a high-speed curtain. The person hidden within was finally and fully revealed.
It was Haku, a figure of stunning, androgynous beauty, appearing no older than fifteen. They were encased in an utterly foreign, elegant dark-green, form-fitting armor that ended in a short, practical skirt, revealing glimpses of pale, armored thighs. A faint, pale-green light shimmered around the elegant plating.
The source of the wind was clear: the armor itself, radiating an aura of kinetic energy that was actively dispersing the mist.
"You truly activated the full set's power," Zabuza's voice echoed, tinged with grudging respect. "It is more difficult to maintain than I anticipated, but by exposing yourself now, you have sealed their failure." Zabuza's confidence was absolute.
"That equipment... it was opened from a Jar?" Kakashi muttered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. He had only seen a handful of Special Equipment items in the system inventory. Zabuza and Haku, together, possessed two complete, full-body sets. Was this the result of Tier 3 Jars, or merely an insane, impossible streak of luck?
The situation had escalated far past the point of feasibility. Kakashi was already seriously considering the necessity of a tactical retreat—saving his students was the only priority.
Just then, a muscular, charging figure erupted from the side.
"I found you!" Naruto roared, his fist swinging with the full force of his augmented strength, generating a visible wave of wind in its wake. "How dare you harm Sasuke?! I will never forgive you!"
The punch, a torrent of raw speed and power, was meant to crush the exposed target.
But Haku merely shifted their weight onto the balls of their feet and tilted their body.
"It is futile," Haku stated softly, his entire body moving with impossible, effortless grace. The punch, for all its speed, missed by a devastating margin. "Since this ability was activated, my velocity is absolute. Even a Kage could not reliably strike me now."
Haku became an ethereal dancer, dodging every subsequent, enraged blow from Naruto with minimal movement.
Even Sasuke, his newly awakened Sharingan tracing the air currents with desperate focus, could only perceive Haku's movement as an unreliable, shimmering afterimage. The superior power of the purchased artifact negated his inherited advantage.
"Is this... the power from the Jars?" Sasuke whispered, clutching his broken sword, his entire worldview shattering for the second time in minutes. His Sharingan, the symbol of his destiny, was not enough.
"Enough..."
At that moment, Dazna, who had remained silent throughout the chaos, let out a deep, sorrowful sigh.
"It seems this is the fate of the Land of Waves."
He understood nothing of the Jars or the distant merchant, but the reality of the battlefield was stark. Kakashi was injured, and the strongest boy—Naruto—couldn't even graze their attacker.
Dazna stepped deliberately out of the protective circle of the children and stood directly in front of them, his back exposed.
"Stop, Naruto. It is over. This is my folly. You have all fought bravely enough." His face was worn, his tone heavy with regret. I have fought my struggle, but destiny demands its due.
"How can you say that?!" Naruto clenched his fists, his eyes wide with a pure, desperate refusal. He took several steps back, pointing a trembling finger at Dazna. "Change your destiny! That's what the Administrator always promises! Dazna-ossan, the hope of the whole country is on your shoulders! How can you quit now?"
Met with silence, a look of profound, wild determination crossed Naruto's face. He suddenly reached up and snatched the Membership Badge—the silver, hexagonal key to the entire system—from around his neck.
"I wonder if it's possible..." Zabuza began, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his face. What kind of reckless madness is that boy attempting?
Naruto is about to make a desperate, unsanctioned move with his new Membership Badge.