"How can a good man go around talking about fighting and killing? Especially when we're here to deliver warmth."
Ren's expression was one of distaste as he pulled out a thick stack of Explosive Tags, wrapping one around a fist-sized stone.
"Let's give these scum a taste of artistic explosion—let them feel warmth in both body and soul.
That way, I fulfill my art, and they experience ultimate warmth. Isn't that a win-win?"
A win-win… where you win twice?
Zoro rolled his eyes and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. "So?"
"Make a hole. I'll knock."
Ren tapped his foot lightly against the rooftop below, signaling he was ready.
"Fine, we'll do it your way."
Though he didn't quite understand what Ren was planning, Zoro was reliable enough—he drew his sword and slashed a cross-shaped hole through the roof.
Ren leaned over, and his gaze met that of a man below—one holding a bloodied handful of organs.
"Yo, having dinner? Try this instead—packs a real punch."
He tossed the stone wrapped with an Explosive Tag downward and, with a snap of his fingers, a flame appeared midair and darted after it.
When visiting, one should always be polite.
So, naturally—you have to knock before entering.
BOOM—!
A minute earlier—
"Come on! A toast to this year's harvest!"
Zagu, the Bloodhand Gang's largest boss, laughed boisterously from his seat atop the grand platform in the hall.
He had already heard about Jick's incident and, out of caution, sent one of his finest squads armed with cannons and rifles to deal with it.
If all went as expected, those two troublemaking idiots would soon appear before him.
Kneeling, crying, begging for mercy—before he sliced them to pieces and fed them to the dogs.
Or maybe he'd just get their body parts instead.
The thought of such a delightful show made Zagu crack open a bottle of the expensive champagne he'd bought at a high price.
Beside him, a man in a cloak silently polished the scope of his rifle, expressionless. He clearly didn't belong here—but no one dared to speak rudely to him.
"Long live the boss!"
"Being a criminal sure beats being a pirate—no Marines chasing you every day!"
"Hahaha! Cheers to that!"
Bottles of champagne stacked like a tower were popped one after another as the hall filled with rowdy laughter and drunken cheers.
Yet not everyone was caught up in the revelry—some whispered in the corners, exchanging quiet words.
After all, the Bloodhand Gang's annual gathering often lasted several days—it wasn't just a celebration, but also the time to redistribute interests and power.
Some schemed, others simply gorged themselves—depending on rank and ambition.
Soon, the festivities reached one of their regular rituals.
At the center of the hall, a short wooden stage stood. Upon it, a burly, hairy man faced a table with a wooden tray.
On the tray lay raw, blood-soaked organs. The stench of blood made the surrounding gang members' eyes turn red as they howled in excitement.
It was the gang's yearly initiation rite for new members.
If successful, a new "brother" was born.
If the challenger hesitated or faltered, the organs on that tray would soon become his own.
"Eat! Eat! Eat!"
"Prove yourself like we did!"
"This is a tradition passed down from the Old Sea Wolf Pirates! Don't chicken out, rookie!"
The noise was deafening. The man on stage didn't hesitate—he reached for the organs with both hands.
To truly join the Bloodhand Gang…
One had to devour human organs—to prove he was above ordinary, weak civilians.
Only by consuming flesh could he show he was one of them, kin by choice if not by blood.
He'd worked years for this chance. There was no turning back now.
But—
Just as he lifted the organs toward his mouth, he noticed… the ceiling had a cross-shaped hole?
What the hell?
The new recruit froze.
Through the opening, a shaft of moonlight fell—and within it, a grinning face stared down at him.
A person?
Before he could react, the jeering from below grew harsher.
"Oi! Why'd you stop?"
"Eat it—or we'll eat you instead!"
The gang members were growing violent, eyes bloodshot, teeth bared.
Even Zagu glanced up impatiently, his expression darkening.
Under the pressure of all those stares, the man instinctively shoved the organ into his mouth—just in time to see a paper-wrapped stone drop from the ceiling.
What's that?
No answer came. A flash of flame followed.
In the blink of an eye, it struck the stone—igniting the tag wrapped around it, inscribed with strange symbols.
And then daylight filled the hall.
BOOM—!
The savage roar of fire tore through the silence of the night.
Dozens of gangsters were swallowed by raging flames before they could even scream, their bodies igniting as they stumbled and flailed in burning agony.
Others were shredded by flying debris, dropping lifeless to the floor.
The man on stage was among them—he clutched his throat as blood gushed through his fingers.
In his fading consciousness, he heard a manic laugh echo from above.
"Heh-heh-hahaha! Art is an explosion! Scum—hear the voice of ART!"
Ren's golden-booted foot kicked open the cross-shaped gap, widening it further.
He tossed down a string of Explosive Tags tied end-to-end, with a stone tied to the bottom for weight—like a reaper's invitation letter plummeting from the heavens.
Snap—!
A finger flicked. A spark appeared midair and chased the falling tags—catching up, igniting—
BOOM—!!
The ensuing explosions came in waves, one after another.
Flames swept through the hall almost instantly, the shockwave of superheated air blasting outward.
The glass windows shattered into shards, hot air searing everything in its path.
Dozens of men rolled on the ground screaming, their bodies ablaze—while countless more lay blackened and still.
Nearly seventy percent of the Bloodhand Gang was wiped out in seconds.
"What a ridiculous blast… guess it is worthy of being a legendary tool from the Naruto world."
Ren whistled softly, clicking his tongue in awe. The Explosive Tag's destructive power was absurd.
Even grenade shrapnel couldn't compare—the sheer concussive force alone was enough to kill.
And the heat—instantaneous and overwhelming. No one near the blast center could've survived.
The explosion radius was insane too—flames covered nearly a third of the entire hall.
But the fight wasn't over. Plenty still lived.
Zoro's silhouette had already vanished. Now was his time to shine.
Ren began buffing himself up.
[Character Template Switch – Third Calabash Brother!]
[Indestructible Vajra Body!]
[Strength: G → F++ → E!]
[Agility: H– → F!]
[Constitution: G → F++ → E!]
His stat panel shifted rapidly, golden light blooming around his body before tightening into a faint sheen across his skin—like a radiant monk statue stepping out of a temple.
Or a warrior clad in luminous armor, ready for battle.
(End of Chapter)