Echoes of the Fallen

The cold night air wrapped around Shin as he stepped through the remains of the battlefield, his boots crunching against the fractured earth. The fight against Raizen had left more than just wounds—it had left a lingering sense of unease. The rogue shinobi was unpredictable, powerful, and most of all, dangerous. Shin knew their paths would cross again, but for now, he had other matters to attend to.

A distant flicker of torchlight caught his attention. Konoha's scouts were moving, likely sweeping the area for survivors. He could hear the faint rustling of leaves, the hurried footsteps of shinobi securing the perimeter. The battle had ended, but the war was far from over.

Shin inhaled deeply, suppressing the dull ache in his ribs. The wound Raizen had left wasn't lethal, but it served as a reminder—one he couldn't ignore. He had let his guard down, and that mistake had cost him.

A soft groan caught his ear. His gaze shifted to a fallen shinobi, his body partially buried beneath the rubble of a collapsed structure. Shin approached cautiously, kneeling beside the injured man. Blood seeped from a gash on his forehead, his breaths shallow and uneven.

Shin recognized the headband—Kiri.

His fingers tightened slightly around his katana, but he didn't raise it. This man wasn't a threat anymore.

The shinobi's eyes fluttered open, his gaze unfocused. He let out a weak chuckle. "Didn't… think I'd wake up to see you."

Shin remained silent.

The Kiri-nin coughed, the effort seeming to drain the last of his strength. "You're the Phantom Swordsman… aren't you?"

Shin didn't confirm nor deny it. Instead, he reached for his pouch, pulling out a small vial of medicine. He wasn't sure why he bothered—maybe because killing a defenseless man didn't sit right with him.

He poured a few drops onto the shinobi's wound. The man flinched, but his breathing steadied.

"You're… different from what they say," the Kiri-nin murmured.

Shin stood. "Rest. You'll need your strength."

The shinobi chuckled again, though it was weaker this time. "Not sure how much strength I have left."

Shin turned away, his mind already shifting to the larger picture. Kiri had sent forces into this battle, which meant their involvement in the conflict was deeper than expected. The balance of power in the shinobi world was shifting, and he needed to understand why.

As he moved toward the main camp, his thoughts turned to the ones pulling the strings—Tenka and the Void Cult. They had remained eerily silent since the last encounter, and that silence unnerved him more than any battle.

What were they planning?

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. He turned just as a familiar face appeared—Kaede, her expression tense.

"We have a problem," she said without preamble.

Shin's gaze sharpened. "What is it?"

Kaede gestured for him to follow, leading him through the ruins toward a secured tent. Inside, a group of Konoha's higher-ranking shinobi had gathered around a makeshift war table. A map was spread out, marked with symbols and notations.

At the center was something that made Shin's blood run cold.

A black insignia.

The mark of the Void Cult.

"This was found on the bodies of several enemy shinobi," Kaede explained. "They weren't just mercenaries. They were working with the Cult."

Shin's jaw tightened. That changed everything.

"We've been tracking their movements," another shinobi said, pointing to the marked locations on the map. "They're moving fast, and they're not just gathering forces. They're searching for something."

Shin's eyes narrowed. "Searching for what?"

The room fell silent. No one had an answer.

But Shin had a sinking feeling he knew.

The Void Release.

If Tenka was hunting for something, it meant he was preparing for the next phase of his plan. And that was something Shin couldn't allow.

"We need to move," he said, his voice steady. "If we wait, we're only giving them more time."

Kaede nodded. "Agreed. We've already deployed scouts to track their next location. We should have more intel soon."

Shin exhaled, his fingers subconsciously brushing against the hilt of his blade. The war had only just begun, and if the Void Cult was making its move, then it meant one thing.

The worst was yet to come.

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