--------------------------------P.O.V Narume---------------------------------------
It had been several weeks since I joined a network of mercenaries operating on the fringes of the great nations' official organizations.
And yet, in a strange way... they were recognized.
No written rules. Just unspoken codes, knowing glances, and contracts.
In this world, discretion was more valuable than loyalty.
After the massacre I caused on my first day, the other mercenaries calmed down. At first, I had no name. Just an image. A bounty.
Few details had leaked about my intervention in Konoha. Most rumors centered around Jack, now known as "The Ripper." Maybe they had heard me call him that.
Over time, and through our activities, Timo earned a nickname of his own: "The Impaler." So far, nothing truly dangerous.
But a few weeks later… a flood of information started to spread. Nothing about my true identity. But plenty of rumors about me being… dead.
The way these rumors circulated was strange. Almost too precise to be accidental.
And yet, it reassured me.
You could always count on Danzo to steer attention away.
These rumors briefly drew eyes in our direction. But the disappearance of several dozen mercenaries was enough to restore silence among the rest.
The number of skeletal dragons I had summoned had increased to two.
Timo and Jack had both been strengthened, just as planned.
My fighting style had come to be recognized as that of a beast summoner.
That's how I became known.
Those who had witnessed our first real confrontation could have refuted that assumption. That day, I had relied almost entirely on the Death Knight's skills.
Since then, I had grown very familiar with that archetype. The system now showed 55% synchronization with the Death Knight legacy... The key thing is, most people don't survive after witnessing me use it.
If I had to face both Timo and Jack at once, plus a skeletal dragon, and someone asked, "Would you lose?"
— Nah. I'd win.
The nature of my summons, combined with the circulating rumors, eventually earned our group a shared nickname.
One that became mine as well. Plural for the team, singular for me: The Walking Dead.
My latest mission had been to eliminate a group of bandits harassing the customers of a public bathhouse.
The owner, too cheap to hire shinobi, had opted for mercenaries instead. An easy target. A simple job.
Eliminate the threat, get paid, and move on.
However, the owner insisted on offering us free access to the baths.
I eventually accepted. I hadn't properly relaxed since I woke up.
Even if I couldn't feel sensations like before, maybe it would ease my mind… And well, I was going to the women's side, so… heh.
My body no longer differed from that of a normal child.
As I stepped into the bathing area, I immediately sensed the stares. It wasn't so much that people were watching me specifically, but I felt the air shift—like we were all being watched.
I quietly slipped into a back room and cast Tremor Sense.
Someone was out there. Hidden, perched in the trees, watching the women bathe.
Without my undead perception, I probably wouldn't have noticed him. He was that well hidden.
I teleported to the base of the tree and rose into the air until I floated just behind him.
The first thing I saw was long white hair.
My mood darkened instantly.
I raised my hand, and dark energy formed an ethereal blade. I struck immediately. The man dodged, only to crash directly into the middle of the bath.
I watched him get pummeled by the women. Watching that absurd scene was… mildly satisfying.
I was tempted to join in, but the odds of my strikes unintentionally hitting vital points were far too high. So I made the wise decision to leave.
I floated down to the ground and wandered through the grass, admiring the scenery before heading back to my base.
The bathhouse stood in the middle of a flowery field, far from the nearest town. The environment was peaceful, the air fragrant. Whoever built the place clearly knew how to charm customers.
A few minutes later, as I neared the spot where I had left Jack and Timo, I felt a massive life force rushing toward me.
In an instant, it was right behind me.
As we were about to make contact, I glanced back and cast Ethereal Impact, a sixth-tier spell.
The figure was blown backward, smashing through several trees before slamming into one and stopping. Watching that happen eased my sour mood a little.
Just as I was about to resume walking, a voice called out to me:
— "Wait a moment…"
I ignored it entirely.
— "Wait, Narume, I just want to talk to you…"
I sighed and turned around.
There he stood. My godfather.
Jiraiya.
His hands were raised in a gesture of peace, a sheepish smile on his face. I noticed his stance was unsteady.
As expected. Ethereal Impact can affect the soul—it can even briefly stun physically present targets by rattling their spirit.
Still, within moments, he was back on his feet. The adaptability of a Sannin is really something.
I briefly considered casting Resurgence Pain—an eighth-tier spell that reawakens past injuries, amplified, starting with the most recent. It can even reopen wounds.
As if sensing my thoughts, Jiraiya raised his hands higher.
— "Please, don't attack me again."
Seeing me lower my hand and observe him cautiously, he visibly relaxed.
— "Narume, I just want to talk. I don't want to fight you… What if we went into town?"
I replied calmly:
— "Fine. Let's go. No need to act like that. I know who you are."
I wanted to hear what he had to say, but I didn't trust him. Right now, Jiraiya was stronger than me.
So I decided to send him a warning, indirectly. My teleportation was still my best card.
I only needed to make it seem unstoppable—to him, and by extension, to Konoha.
His suggestion to go into town made it even easier.
I gave him a long look and said:
— "Don't resist."
I stepped closer, then silently cast:
Focus. Enhance Magic. Teleportation.
And just like that, we vanished from the plains.