Blood Wrist

"That's it?"

At the border of the Land of Lightning, on an unknown island—Ninja Arena.

On the stage, a black-haired man wearing a half-mask shattered the blazing flames rushing at him with a single punch.

His large hand pierced through the scattering sparks and, under the terrified gaze of the ninja opposite him, grabbed his head and smashed it viciously into the ground.

After a dull crash, Sora's punch directly crushed the head of the man a certain noble had placed high hopes on—and wagered heavily on.

"Oh! What an unstoppable heavy punch!"

"Blood Wrist has once again effortlessly slain his challenger and defended the stage! This is already his ninety-ninth victory in this arena. Without a doubt, Blood Wrist is the undisputed demon king of this stage—the unshakable overlord!"

"Just one more match, and Blood Wrist will achieve an unprecedented hundred victories! Let us give him our most thunderous applause and cheers!"

The commentator's impassioned voice echoed throughout the venue as the audience, long since completely conquered by Sora, cheered themselves hoarse.

"A hundred wins! A hundred wins!"

"Well done!"

"Crush the head of that arrogant Blaze Release brat for me!"

Wave after wave of cheers seemed ready to overturn the entire venue. Everyone was shouting Sora's name.

"Blood Wrist Sora... is he our target for this mission, Lord Dodai?"

Watching the blood-stained man on the stage, a blonde girl with a faintly sinister air frowned in the back rows of the stands. "Isn't this going too far?"

The ninja arena was not a place for death matches. Rather than an arena, it was more like a place where nobles and dignitaries gambled on fights.

The winning side could take possession of the opposing ninja, so even though everyone fought with all their strength on the stage, they would hold back at the final moment.

But what this man had done on the stage was completely pointless cruelty.

With such a violent temperament, it was no wonder he bore a name like Blood Wrist.

Beside her, Dodai—one eye covered by a wooden eyepatch and wearing an ingot-shaped hat—let out a sigh. The figure on the stage reflected in his single eye, his expression complicated.

It had been a long time since he had last seen Sora.

Yet the moment he saw the man on the stage, especially the pair of sharp horns at his temples, he still recalled everything about Sora.

He also recalled certain particularly unpleasant memories.

They were the fallen past and former shame that neither he nor the Cloud Hidden Village wished to remember.

If possible, Dodai would never want to have anything to do with this man for the rest of his life. But the situation on the front lines had changed abruptly, and the village lacked manpower. He could only come here under the elders' orders.

The cheers around him were deafening. Sora raised both hands overhead on the stage, and the entire venue erupted like roaring mountains and crashing seas. The man before Dodai's eyes kept overlapping with the two figures in his memories, until even his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

Only after that figure left the stage did Dodai finally come back to his senses.

"Are you all right, Lord Dodai?" Samui asked worriedly.

"No, it's nothing." Dodai took a deep breath, his gaze turning resolute.

For the sake of the Cloud Hidden Village, no matter how unwilling he was to face that man, he had to meet him.

"Let's go. We need to have a proper talk with him!"

"Yes!"

Passing through the dark competitors' corridor, Sora returned to his private lounge under the awed and envious gazes of countless ninjas.

The ninjas in this arena were all the property of nobles, used by dignitaries for gambling and entertainment.

But Sora was different.

He fought for himself!

After returning to the room, Sora removed the half-mask from his face and stretched. The figure of a young man around twenty years old appeared in the full-length mirror.

The man in the mirror was tall, his body over two meters in height lean and upright. Beneath his messy hair was a pair of eyes faintly glowing red.

His defined features complemented his handsome yet sunny face. His bare upper body displayed a muscular physique that was powerful without being exaggerated, and the scars across his muscles gave him a wild sort of beauty.

Most eye-catching of all were his temples.

Amid his disheveled bangs protruded a pair of sharp horns.

"Knock, knock, knock."

"Come in."

The lounge door was knocked on and pushed open. A potbellied middle-aged man entered surrounded by several others, smiling broadly as he accepted a suitcase handed over by someone beside him. He opened it and placed it on the table.

"Blood Wrist, this is today's share of the off-site betting profits: three hundred and fifty thousand ryo in total."

"Only three hundred and fifty thousand ryo?"

Sora frowned slightly. The oppressive look on his face left everyone present too afraid to speak.

The leading middle-aged man swallowed and forced himself to explain, "It can't be helped, Blood Wrist. Everyone knows how formidable you are. Whenever you step onto the stage, the outside bets are practically all placed on you."

"Even though we've lowered the odds as much as possible, it's still a huge sum of money, so..."

"This is your problem."

"I'll give you three minutes. If the eight hundred thousand ryō is short by even a single coin, I guarantee your heads won't end up any better than that guy's just now."

"Th-This!"

The middle-aged man's expression stiffened.

He instinctively wanted to refuse, but for some reason, the image of that ninja with the Scorch Release bloodline limit's head exploding like fireworks suddenly flashed through his mind. The words at the tip of his tongue lodged firmly in his throat.

In less than a minute, Sora had stored the suitcase full of banknotes in the scroll he carried with him.

Yet after handing over the money, the man in charge before him showed no intention of leaving.

"What else is it?"

"It's like this."

The middle-aged man rubbed his hands together with an awkward smile.

"The next match will be your hundredth consecutive victory. The outside betting pool will definitely reach an unimaginable amount by then."

"The arena's earnings have been declining by the day, so for the next match, do you think you could..."

"You want me to throw the fight?"

Sora looked at the middle-aged man with an ambiguous smile. "It seems you've forgotten my rules."

"Of course I know your rules, Blood Wrist!"

The middle-aged man's expression changed slightly upon hearing Sora's words, and he hurriedly said, "Three million ryō! As long as you lose this match, I'll give you three million ryō!"

"Besides, your opponent in the next match is no ordinary person. I hear he has an unusual connection to the Land of Lightning's daimyo!"

"A hundred wins is just an empty reputation. Money in hand is what matters, and you'd also be currying favor with that noble..."

"You really think I'm doing this for trash like you?"

The middle-aged man froze, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes.

"Blood Wrist, I'm doing this for your own good. A homeless drifter like you, wandering from fighting arena to fighting arena, needs enough money... What are you doing, Blood Wrist?!"

Sora slowly rose to his feet. His two-meter-tall body was like a wall before the man, and a faint red glow shone in his downward gaze.

"Y-You, what are you doing?!"

The middle-aged man shuddered. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed onto the ground in terror.

Expressionless, Sora reached his rough hand toward the man.

But at that moment, a layer of elastic rubber rapidly condensed in front of Sora, forming a rubber wall that blocked his large hand.

"Lava Release: Rubber Wall!"

"Lava Release..."

The Lava Release barrier that had appeared from nowhere made Sora pause slightly. But in the next instant, his large hand still came down upon the elastic Lava Release rubber wall.

As veins bulged across his arm, a blood-red aura spread along his muscles and flowed into his five fingers.

With a violent tear, the rubber barrier was forcibly ripped apart!

Looking at the figure behind the barrier, Sora rapidly compressed the air before his palm, drawing the middle-aged man into his grasp.

"Sora!"

Hearing that familiar, long-lost shout, Sora remained unmoved and tightened his grip.

The middle-aged man's neck shattered with a crack.

His body twitched twice in Sora's hand before all life left him.

Casually tossing the trash in his hand aside, Sora finally looked at the man whose expression had turned somewhat ugly, his hands still held in a seal, and grinned.

"Long time no see, Dodai-sensei."