The five goons stepped into Madara's room at the inn, expecting an easy task, snatch the demi-human children and leave without a trace. But the sight that greeted them was far from what they, or their leader, had hoped for.
The room was now a scene of carnage, a brutal tableau that froze them in their tracks.
The goon leader stood trembling, the only one still alive. His four companions lay sprawled across the floor, their bodies mangled in horrific ways.
Heads were severed, rolling to rest in pools of blood, while others had their chests torn open, hearts ripped out and lying beside them.
Even in death, their eyes were wide with terror, frozen in the moment they realized their fate. The air was thick with the metallic stench of blood, and the silence was deafening.
Unbeknownst to the goons, Madara had left a wood clone in the town to watch over the demi-human children.
The clone wasn't meant to stay with them but to keep an eye from a distance, ready to act if anything threatened their safety.
When the goons entered the room with clear intent to harm, the clone had reacted swiftly, dealing with the situation in the only way Madara knew, ruthlessly.
The wood clone, an exact replica of Madara with the same piercing crimson eyes, stood calmly in the center of the room. It hadn't spoken at first.
Words weren't needed. Setting an example was necessary, and the clone had made that point clear by slaughtering the four goons in an instant.
Their deaths were swift but brutal, a warning to the leader who now cowered in the corner, his body shaking uncontrollably.
The clone spared him, not out of mercy, but because he could be useful.
The leader would talk, or he would suffer a fate worse than his men. If he refused, the clone had other methods to extract answers, methods that would leave him begging for death.
The clone's gaze locked onto the goon leader, who pressed himself against the wall, his face pale and slick with sweat. "Wanna tell me who sent you here?" the clone asked, its voice low and cold, carrying the same commanding weight as the real Madara.
"I haven't been in this town for twelve hours. I don't think I've made any enemies while I'm here. The ones who have met me before are already dead… except for these children."
It gestured toward the demi-human girls, who huddled together in a corner, their eyes wide with fear but unharmed.
The goon leader's breath hitched, his mind racing with panic. The massacre had been so sudden, so brutal, that he could barely think.
The sight of his men, headless, gutted, lifeless, burned into his mind. He knew he was next unless he spoke, and even then, survival seemed unlikely.
But the clone's crimson eyes bore into him, promising pain beyond imagination if he stayed silent.
His trembling lips parted, ready to spill everything he knew, driven by the desperate hope of delaying his inevitable end.
…
..
.
Two minutes after the goon leader spilled everything, how his master sent him to capture the demi-human children for a noble's order, to be taken to the slave building and sold to fulfill a profitable deal, Madara stood in the center of the blood-soaked room.
His crimson armor glistened, splattered with the blood of the four dead goons. The air was heavy with the stench of death, but Madara's expression remained cold and unyielding.
He fixed his piercing gaze on the trembling goon leader, who cowered in the corner, and asked in a low, deliberate voice, "Tell me, do you have children? Or someone you love?"
The goon's mind raced, grasping at a desperate plan. He thought Madara might be sentimental, that a lie about a family could sway him.
It was a trick he'd used before, spinning tales of loved ones to gain sympathy. It often worked, but only if the other person was naive enough to believe it.
Swallowing hard, he stammered, "Y-yes, yes, yes! I-I have a little daughter at home. She's sick. I only do what I'm told because I need money to get her a healer. I don't want to do this, I swear!" His voice shook, his eyes darting nervously, hoping his lie would save him.
Madara's crimson eyes narrowed, studying the goon with an intensity that seemed to pierce his soul. He saw through the lie instantly, his Sharingan could discern truth from falsehood with ease.
But instead of calling it out immediately, he played along, his voice calm but laced with menace. "You don't know, do you? My eyes can see lies as clearly as truth. But don't worry, you were going to die either way. Whether you spoke honestly or not, your fate was sealed." He paused, his gaze darkening. "I was planning to dismantle this slavery system later, but why wait? I'll start now."
The goon's eyes widened, and then, as if madness took hold, he burst into wild, hysterical laughter. "Ha ha ha! So you're one of those naive boys!" he cackled, his voice cracking with desperation. He knew death was coming, and in his panic, he lashed out.
"You think you can change everything just because you beat some lowlife goons like us? I've seen plenty of kids like you, full of big dreams, thinking they can fix the world. But they all end up broken, enslaved themselves!"
His laughter grew louder, almost unhinged, as he glared at Madara. "You're not the first to think you can change things! You want to end slavery? That means challenging the empire's laws! You'll be up against the church, countless nobles, and their armies. And don't forget the church's heroes, those otherworlders with monstrous strength! All they care about is bedding girls, chasing fame, and hoarding wealth. You're nothing to them!"
Madara stood motionless, his expression unchanging as the goon ranted. The man's words were a desperate attempt to undermine him, to make him doubt his resolve.
….
A/N: How was it? Bro Madara gonna traumatize the children like this. You can comment your thoughts on this and i'm gonna take this a lottle bit fast paced.
Anyway join my discord: https://discord.gg/5Y7uZ2kN2Y
Or in short just click in join via invite link in your discord and enter this code: 5Y7uZ2kN2Y