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The leader swallowed his fear, steeling himself. "Whoever you are, leave immediately," he ordered, though his voice wavered. "Or you'll face the consequences."
Inoiki merely smiled and took a single step forward.
The guards instinctively recoiled, their grip on their swords tightening. Their retreat was slight, but it was enough. The leader's eyes flicked between his men and the lone figure before them, his confidence wavering. Twelve against one. The numbers were in their favor. Weren't they?
Gritting his teeth, he barked, "Stand your ground! There's only two of them—we can take them!"
With a desperate battle cry, he lunged at Inoiki, sword slicing through the air. His men, emboldened by his charge, rushed forward as well, their blades glinting under the dim lantern light.
Then—everything stopped.
The charging guards froze mid-step, their bodies held in place by an unseen force. Their swords trembled in their grasp before being wrenched away entirely, clattering to the ground. A moment later, they were hurled backward like ragdolls, crashing into stalls and wooden tables, sending wares flying. Crates splintered, merchants screamed, and the entire underground market erupted into chaos.
Only one man remained.
The leader found himself lifted off his feet, dragged forward against his will by an invisible force. His breath came in ragged gasps as he floated toward Inoiki, whose expression remained calm—almost indifferent.
Tatsuya, standing silently at the side, observed with a mixture of awe and unease.
Inoiki didn't waste time with words.
He placed his hand firmly on the leader's head.
The man's body jerked as Inoiki delved into his mind, sifting through his memories like flipping through the pages of an open book. Every secret, every hidden passage, every key figure in the black market—the information flooded into Inoiki's mind in an instant.
The leader gasped, his eyes rolling back slightly, his limbs twitching.
And just like that—Inoiki knew everything.
Inoiki barely spared the leader another glance before tossing him aside like discarded trash. The man hit the ground with a dull thud, groaning in pain. Without hesitation, Inoiki turned and strode forward, his pace unhurried, yet his presence suffocating.
Tatsuya followed silently, his eyes darting around the ruined market. Broken stalls, shattered crates, and unconscious guards littered the area—a testament to the destruction Inoiki had wrought in mere minutes.
Their destination was clear.
Before them stood a grand structure, starkly different from the surrounding makeshift shops. It was larger, more refined, its walls reinforced and its entrance guarded by heavily armed men. Unlike the scattered vendors and dealers who scurried away in fear, these guards stood firm, their swords drawn, eyes locked onto the approaching intruder. They had been waiting. The chaos had reached their ears, and now they braced for battle.
Inoiki, however, had no intention of wasting time.
His gaze flicked to a nearby weapon shop, its racks lined with swords, kunai, and other deadly tools. With a mere thought, the blades trembled, then lifted into the air, dozens of them hovering like deadly specters.
The guards barely had time to react.
Like a storm of steel, the weapons rained down upon them. Swords and kunai sliced through the air, striking with precision—cutting into legs, piercing arms, severing tendons. Cries of pain echoed through the underground base as one by one, the guards collapsed, their weapons slipping from their hands.
Yet, not a single one was fatally struck.
Inoiki's control was absolute. Every attack was calculated, every wound inflicted with surgical precision. He had no need to kill them—only to render them useless.
As the last guard fell to his knees, clutching his bleeding arm, the battlefield fell into silence.
Without breaking stride, Inoiki stepped over the groaning bodies and approached the entrance of the grand building.
The real target lay within.
Just as Inoiki reached the entrance of the building, the heavy doors creaked open. A woman in her thirties stepped forward, her expression composed but respectful. She bowed slightly and said, "Please, follow me. The boss is expecting you."
Inoiki gave a curt nod and stepped inside, his movements as fluid as a shadow. Tatsuya trailed behind, his eyes scanning the lavish interior—clearly, this was no ordinary black-market hideout.
The woman led them through dimly lit corridors until they arrived before an ornate office door. Without a word, she pushed it open and gestured for Inoiki to enter.
Inoiki stepped inside, immediately sizing up the man seated behind the massive wooden desk.
A middle-aged man in a sharp, well-tailored suit leaned back in his chair, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He exuded the confidence of someone who thrived in the underworld. Rising to his feet, he extended a hand.
"Welcome. My name is Kenta, and I run this entire black-market operation. It's an honor to finally meet the infamous 'Silent Reaper' of Konoha."
Inoiki's eyes flickered with amusement as he clasped Kenta's hand briefly. "An honor, is it?" he said, his tone laced with sarcasm. "Strange, considering the welcoming committee outside. I take it the armed guards were your way of rolling out the red carpet?"
Kenta let out a low chuckle, entirely unfazed. "You must understand, I can't just let anyone waltz into my office. Consider it… a test of authenticity. And now that I'm convinced, we can talk freely."
Inoiki released his grip, his piercing gaze never leaving Kenta's.
"Good," he said coolly. "Let's talk."
...
(A/N: If you like the story please vote power stones.)
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