Barlow did not retreat.
The Sharingan broke down the trajectory of the scorpion tail's sweep into clear afterimages—the angle of every bend in its segmented carapace, the vibration of the venom sac at its tip, and the faint eddies stirred up as its barbs tore through the air.
A split second before the scorpion tail reached him, he twisted to the left, his boots grinding against the gravel with a piercing screech.
The scorpion tail swept past his right shoulder, its stinger burying itself in the sandstone cliff behind him. Before the shattered rocks had even fallen, Barlow had fully drawn the sword at his waist.
The crack the stinger had left in the blade flashed in the sunlight, but he did not lower his eyes to inspect it.
He gripped the sword with both hands, its tip raised slightly. Chakra surged from his palms into the hilt and spread along the blade.
Flames ignited across the sword. Orange-red fire flowed tightly along the edge, wrapping the entire weapon in a dazzling blade of light. The flames burned brightest at the tip, trailing a constantly twisting wake of heat through the air.
Uchiha Style: Fire Thrust.
This was a thrusting technique combining Uchiha Style Swordsmanship with Fire Release chakra. Flames were compressed over the sword's surface, then launched one after another like spears through a barrage of thrusts.
There was no need for hand seals, no need to catch his breath. The flames' propulsion came entirely from the instantaneous eruption of chakra.
Barlow stepped forward. It was a heavy step, crushing a piece of gravel beneath his boot and blasting a small cloud of gray dust around his foot.
Then he struck—thrust after thrust.
Every time the sword tip shot forward, the flames on the blade were flung out by