Between Life and Death!

At this moment, a black figure suddenly appeared atop a fortress not far away, tumbling down from the air in a disheveled heap.

He was thin and gaunt, clad in the combat uniform of the Military Headquarters. Having seemingly just emerged from a brutal battle, he gasped for air, leaning his back against the wall as he slowly sat down.

Under the setting sun, his face was caked in mud, obscuring his features. Only his eyes remained bright, revealing him to be quite young—little more than a boy.

Once he finally regained a shred of strength, he wiped the dirt from his face and began to bandage the wound on his shoulder.

Blood from his right shoulder had already soaked his arm, yet he seemed not to feel the pain. He tore his clothing with practiced efficiency, applied medicine to the mangled flesh, pulled the gauze tight, and bound it.

Beads of sweat dripped down, but the boy's gaze turned blank and indifferent, as if he were terrifyingly accustomed to enduring such agony.

The sun had now descended to the base of the fortress. Suddenly, the light caught the boy's face, causing him to look up. He noticed two figures moving across the ground below, locked in a fierce, life-or-death struggle.

From a distance, it appeared to be a child sparring with an adult. As they traded blows, several bloody gashes appeared on the child's body, yet he paid them no mind, continuing his ferocious assault with an unyielding, death-defying spirit.

As the battle intensified, the boy's wounds multiplied, yet his fighting spirit only grew more fervent. With the mist-blue chakra flickering around him, he stood up time and again, his martial arts and combat experience evolving rapidly. At times, he even caught glimpses of lightning sparking from the child, which, combined with increasingly sharp swordsmanship, was enough to stun anyone watching.

The boy watched in silence, a strange, unfamiliar emotion stirring in his long-stagnant eyes.

"Hey, Hyuga Makoto, shift change!" Just then, another ninja jumped down. He looked at the boy with disgust and ordered, "Get out of here. The laboratory is waiting for you to test the medicine!"

"Yes, Shiyan-senpai."

Although he had just finished a mission and his body had not yet recovered—his wounds still bleeding—Hyuga Makoto offered no complaints, obeying with absolute docility.

He took one last look at the child on the ground and stood up, swaying slightly. Just as he was about to jump from the fortress, Shiyan called out to him again.

Shiyan pointed at the child in the open field with a look of amusement. "Were you watching him?"

"Yes, senpai."

"Do you know who he is?"

"He is a newcomer who joined the Military Headquarters a few days ago, named Uchiha Akatsuki. He is also a disciple of Lord Orochimaru, who thinks highly of him," Hyuga Makoto replied truthfully. "There is another one in the same batch, a medical ninja named Kusama Shigeo."

It was impossible for him not to know.

Having been at the Military Headquarters for nearly six years, this was the first time Hyuga Makoto had seen disciples so heavily emphasized by Lord Orochimaru, and two at once, no less.

One had to realize that many in the Military Headquarters died without anyone even knowing their names.

"Then do you know why they came to the Military Headquarters?"

Hyuga Makoto did not respond this time, merely keeping his head bowed as blood trickled down his shoulder, finally dripping from his fingertips onto the earth.

"One is the eldest son of Uchiha Fugaku, the future heir of the Uchiha Clan. The other is the youngest brother of the Kusama Clan head, a future medical captain to be entrusted with heavy responsibilities..."

"They are all here to gild their resumes."

Shiyan spoke glibly, his face twisted into a mean-spirited sneer. "That is why Lord Orochimaru has told us to protect their safety well."

With that, his eyes darted toward the Hyuga boy.

"I think this task is best suited for you. What do you think?"

Anyone with eyes could see that this was an extremely difficult mission.

On the battlefield, even a Jonin could not guarantee their own survival, let alone look after children. Furthermore, these two were of high status; the slightest mistake would invite disaster.

It was an impossibly difficult task, one that could easily cost him his life.

"Yes, Shiyan-senpai."

Yet, Hyuga Makoto did not hesitate for even a second, nodding in agreement like a mindless, obedient machine.

Shiyan curled his lips, his eyes filled with triumph.

That's right—

A tool should act like a tool.

"Good, go. The people at the lab have been waiting for you for a long time. Clean yourself up; don't look so filthy."

Shiyan waved his hand in satisfaction, and Hyuga Makoto bowed his head slightly, retreating with practiced subservience.

"Hmph, that sour face all day long—it's annoying to look at. If you weren't still useful, I would have dealt with you for Lord Orochimaru long ago." After the boy left, Shiyan sat down to drink some water, picked up his binoculars, and looked toward the West Training Ground, letting out a cold laugh.

"Providing personal sparring right from the start—Lord Orochimaru truly cherishes his disciples."

He thought of how Uchiha Akatsuki had wept cowardly during a mission a few days ago, and a look of disdain crossed his face.

I wonder how many days these little masters will last this time?

"Ding!"

"Clang!"

In the middle of a wasteland, blue light flickered intermittently, accompanied by the biting chill of wind blades. Two figures darted and collided amidst the dust, producing a series of dull thuds and sharp metallic rings. After occasional pauses, the confrontation grew even more intense.

I had failed another sneak attack.

As the dust settled, my Murasame and the teacher's Kusanagi Sword were locked together once more. I, who had been no match for him at all, was now able to hold my own thanks to the infusion of chakra!

"Still not giving up?" Orochimaru still held his sword with one hand, his hair only slightly disheveled, his body completely unscathed.

In contrast, I was covered in sand and dust, riddled with wounds, my clothes soaked through with sweat, my hand trembling so violently I could barely hold the Murasame.

If it were the me from before, I fear I would have collapsed long ago.

I offer a smile, devoid of the slightest shred of cowardice, as I ignite my chakra and pour it into my bones and muscles, drawing forth a constant, surging power!

"Until you use your other hand, I will not give up."

As for the me of now, as long as chakra remains, there will never be a moment where I fall!

I lunge forward violently, but with a soft "snap," my pride-and-joy attack is intercepted with ease. Orochimaru grabs my right hand holding the blade, looking at my edge with a hint of pity.

"You still don't know how to use this sword."

Ignoring his mockery, I flick my left hand to throw several shuriken, hoping to force him back, but Orochimaru dodges them with a tilt of his head! A flash of inspiration strikes; I release my right hand, catch Murasame with my left as it falls, and swing upward with cunning, successfully distancing myself from Orochimaru!

"Not bad, you've learned to use combat techniques," Orochimaru says upon landing, offering a rare word of praise before shaking his head. "However... you are still far from grasping the core of swordsmanship."

"What core?" I glance at Murasame, finding it just as it was at the start: a pitch-black blade, unchanged.

"Can you stop talking in riddles!"

"That is something you must realize for yourself, Akatsuki."

Orochimaru smiles, holding the Kusanagi Sword horizontally before him, staring at its long, slender blade as he sinks into some memory.

"Just as I did when I first subdued the Kusanagi Sword."

I do not understand Orochimaru's meaning, but I notice him becoming distracted, and my heart leaps!

A perfect opportunity!

I charge at him, launching a kick in mid-air! Yet Orochimaru doesn't even look at me, intercepting the blow with total indifference.

Flustered and enraged, I slash with my blade, only to be swatted away with a casual flick!

"Damn it..."

My temper is thoroughly ignited, and I attack Orochimaru tirelessly, like a fly. Blade, fists, feet, arms, legs, grappling—I even nearly used my teeth! Yet it is all to no avail!

"It seems the only flaw has been mended; you can already utilize the second stage of Nintaijutsu quite well." Orochimaru watches me panting, looking like he is admiring a freshly finished piece of art, seemingly searching for imperfections.

"Just as well, I've had my fun."

Then, his expression suddenly turns sharp, and his footsteps shift.

"We can move on to the next stage."

Hearing this, I grow tense, but before I can react—before I can even see his figure—I am sent flying! A loud, thunderous "bang" echoes out!

The force is so immense that I vomit a mouthful of blood while still in the air, dizzy and disoriented. I see the scenery spinning; I seem to see my own arms... my own legs... and then I land heavily, my vision split between the sky and the earth.

Then, I sink into a hazy, blood-red fog.

I feel the various parts of my body separating, like piles of mud, completely unresponsive to my will.

I lie on the ground, unable to even feel the pain, only uncontrollably... coughing up small mouthfuls of blood, terrified and lost.

This is the most severe injury I have ever sustained.

I suddenly realize that although I have experienced countless battles, they were all minor scuffles; I have never truly faced danger.

The training in the underground chamber at the start, though cruel, rarely resulted in grave injury.

And while Fugaku was strict when teaching me, he never endangered my life.

But Orochimaru is different.

He does not care about such things.

To him, there is no such thing as "holding back."

When he says training can be fatal, it truly can be; he will never soften his hand because of my status or position.

Even if I am a genius, even if I am the son of the Uchiha clan head, it makes no difference.

So... so he truly wanted to kill me just now.

Realizing this, the blood in my entire body turns cold.

I am... afraid.

"This is a common occurrence on the battlefield, Akatsuki." Beneath the wind and sand, his footsteps stop beside me.

"The will to survive is also the key to determining victory or defeat."

Orochimaru's sword hangs suspended, radiating a chilling cold.

"Between life and death, what will you choose?"

"Urgh... cough..."

My vision is a blur, overwhelmed by pain and terror, and I can only grip Murasame tightly—the only weapon I have in this battle.

It has long been stained red with blood, but ironically, this blood is not the enemy's; it is my own.

Throughout the entire day of fighting, it has never left my side, yet it hasn't harmed the enemy in the slightest. Instead, it has been soaked in its master's blood, turning a mottled color, its final cold gleam extinguished, fading into a pitch-black hue that emits an eerie luster.

I'm sorry, Murasame.

I... am still too useless.

My vision blurred with tears; the confidence I had only just begun to build was shattered into pieces by a single, casual strike from a powerhouse.

"If you don't move, you'll die."

Hearing those words, I twitched, and a small trickle of blood welled from the corner of my mouth, carving a winding trail across the earthen ground.

Move... just move... move, damn it...

"Stand up, Akatsuki."

The black silhouette stood right before my eyes, yet I couldn't even make out his face; his biting killing intent swept over me like a gale, reeking of death.

I began to convulse, desperately trying to move, but I only managed to writhe on the ground like a maggot... writhing... unable to shift even an inch, and my vision even began to fade into darkness...

"Click."

As my consciousness blurred, I heard the faint sound of a blade piercing through me.

I opened my eyes to see the Kusanagi Sword already run through my shoulder; he twisted the hilt and yanked it out viciously.

In an instant, blood gushed forth!

What... is he doing?

I looked up, stunned and terrified.

And Orochimaru answered with his actions soon enough.

As the blade of the Kusanagi Sword was withdrawn, I could hear the sound of cartilage being severed; as the cold sensation of the weapon faded, a massive, tearing pain swept over me!

Yet, I didn't even have the voice left to scream.

Only then did I realize that extreme pain leaves no room for tears, and even the voice in one's throat vanishes. Because the body shuts down most of its senses to help you minimize the agony.

"Do you really want to die, Akatsuki?"

His blade hovered just above my head, and my own blood dripped down, landing on my face drop by drop.

Cold and chilling, devoid of any vitality.

Across the vast, boundless rocky terrain, Orochimaru smiled, revealing a look of regret.

"It seems you are destined to die here."