Chapter 39: Ootoro's Legend.
Fugaku's mind buzzed with possibilities, his imagination running wild. He yearned for powers to rule this world, skills that could shape the course of battles, weapons that exuded untamed might, armor that could withstand the fiercest onslaughts, and knowledge that would allow him to rise into greater power.
"I see.": the raspy voice said mockingly, and immediately the shelves changed what was placed on them priorly.
The shop within Fugaku's mindscape was a veritable treasure trove of wonders. Each item was meticulously crafted and imbued with unique properties that defied logic. There were ancient scrolls containing forgotten Jutsus, coordinates to other Dimensions, enchanted artifacts that could go toe to toe with some of the items built by the greatest minds in his (Naruto and FMA) world, and even rare materials.
However, such extraordinary offerings came at a cost. The shopkeeper of Fugaku's mindscape, a manifestation of his own consciousness, understood the value of these coveted treasures. To obtain them, Fugaku had to pay a steep price in the currency of his own Life Force.
Just unlocking the Mangekyo Sharingan, required the sacrifice of a vast reservoir of 500.000 Points of Life Force, and this is just unlocking a random pair. Delving into specific evolutions demanded even more up to 10.000.000 Points of Life Force.
*Sigh*
'I knew it. This motherfucker wants me to go on a full-blown killing spree and kill everything that is breathing to satisfy my own greed.': Fugaku understood Bailed's intentions.
"Haha, why not look for knowledge instead, young man? What we work for is often worth more than what we get gifted.": the old man's raspy voice interrupted Fugaku's thoughts of misery.
The price for acquiring wisdom and understanding was surprisingly reasonable, maybe because it demanded dedication, focus, and relentless study. Fugaku realized that maybe Bailed was pointing him in a certain direction, showing him that true power lay not only in possessing extraordinary artifacts or powers but in harnessing the depths of his own intellect, and building his own path.
Within this surreal shop in his mindscape, Fugaku gazed upon the shelves of possibilities. He carefully weighed the costs and benefits, the sacrifices and rewards.
"I need more time to contemplate this. Old man, I will be back.": Fugaku said and exited his mindscape. Ignoring your surroundings for an extended amount of time while being in a literal warzone is one stupid way to suicide.
'Time to earn a few more points.': Fugaku thought to himself with a wicked grin, now that he was on his own he could go wild for a bit.
He had priorly chosen the northwest direction of the valley, where Suna Shinobi tended to pass through in order to get to their supply point, often clashing with Iwa Shinobi along the way.
[Pov: Narrator about Ootoro (Chunin)]
[Location: Sunagakure Supply Point]
[Date: Two days later]
The night was swallowed by darkness, the moon veiled by thick clouds, and a relentless rain pouring down. Ootoro, a Shinobi, stood guard at the entrance of the desolate supply point. His senses sharpened, and his heart raced, a feeling of foreboding consuming him. Something was dreadfully amiss.
Whispers of unease had circulated among the Shinobi for the past few days—tales of a black monster that haunted the area, preying upon unsuspecting victims. Ootoro had initially dismissed them as mere stories, crafted to test the nerves of new recruits at the Supply Point. But now, a malevolent presence lingered in the air, undeniable and suffocating.
As Ootoro maintained a vigilant watch, a faint rustle reached his ears. His grip tightened around his kunai, his gaze fixated on the source of the sound. A figure emerged from the shadows, inching closer to the supply point. It was a fellow Sunagakure Shinobi, a comrade seeking refuge. The soldier's face was pale, his remaining eye wide with terror.
"Ootoro," he gasped, voice trembling. "You won't believe what I've witnessed."
Ootoro hurried to his dying comrade, recognizing him as one of the individuals who had arrived at the supply point alongside him. Ootoro swiftly activated a flare, signaling for medical assistance, before turning his attention back to the soldier. Fear gripped his heart as he awaited the harrowing account.
"Tell me, what occurred?" Ootoro implored.
The soldier struggled for breath, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I was with the group delivering supplies. We were ambushed... by the black monster. It materialized out of thin air, tearing through our ranks. We fought valiantly, but our weapons were futile, our jutsu ineffective against it."
Dread coiled in Ootoro's stomach. "Did anyone survive?"
The soldier shook his head, his voice laden with despair. "No one. They were torn asunder. And... the monster... it left a message."
"A message?" Ootoro's voice caught in his throat.
The soldier nodded, his haunted gaze meeting Ootoro's. "It etched words into the earth with its claws. 'No one is safe. Death awaits.'"
A chill raced down Ootoro's spine, and a suffocating darkness enveloped his soul. "We cannot remain here. We must warn the others, find a way to survive."
Just as they turned to leave, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the night, freezing them in their tracks. They exchanged terrified glances, their minds awash with terror. The supply point had transformed into a sinister trap—a hunting ground for the merciless black monster.
With cautious steps, they ventured into the abyss, seeking their comrades amidst the shadows. The path revealed horrifying scenes—lifeless bodies strewn, their twisted limbs a grotesque display of the monster's cruelty.
And then, they discovered the messages. Carved onto trees, etched into walls, and written in crimson on the ground. Each inscription sent shivers down their spines, an unyielding reminder that their lives teetered on the edge of oblivion.
"No escape," one message hissed.
"Surrender your hope," another jeered.
Fear clung to Ootoro's every step, yet he pushed forward, driven by desperation and resolve. They had to survive, had to find a way to conquer the nightmarish presence that stalked their every move.
The night seemed interminable, each passing moment fraught with trepidation. Every shadow became a potential threat, every rustle of leaves
an omen of imminent doom. The black monster slithered, unseen, toying with its prey.
Time blurred, until Ootoro found himself standing alone amidst the abyss. Darkness swallowed him, and whispers of the haunting messages echoed in his mind—a chilling symphony of despair. But he refused to surrender.
In the depths of that sinister night, Soldier Ootoro steeled his resolve, his eyes burning with determination. He would confront the black monster head-on, even if it meant sacrificing himself to protect those he held dear.
With each step forward, Ootoro embraced the uncertainty, aware that the impending battle would test not only his strength but also his sanity. The presence of the black monster loomed, a reminder that some horrors transcended comprehension.
As he ventured deeper into the night, guided solely by the flickering embers of his dwindling hope, Ootoro couldn't shake the feeling that the black monster reveled in his fear, delighting in the suffering it inflicted. Nevertheless, the soldier pressed on, his heart pounding with each step, ready to face the terrors that awaited him, determined to unveil the truth behind the malevolent black monster that plagued their world.
Ootoro's weary path led him to a clearing, where moonlight trickled through dense foliage, casting an otherworldly glow. An eerie silence descended, broken only by his ragged breath.
Standing there, Ootoro felt a frigid presence crawl up his spine. He turned slowly, heart pounding with a mix of terror and anticipation. And there, concealed within the shadows, bathed in a grotesque crimson hue, stood the black monster.
Its form defied comprehension, undulating like a living nightmare. Jet-black skin oozed a sickly sheen, and its eyes blazed with malevolent crimson light. A twisted grin contorted its featureless face, exposing jagged, blood-stained teeth.
Time ceased its flow as Ootoro locked eyes with the abomination. A maelstrom of emotions surged through him—fear, rage, and an instinctual urge to survive. But it was in the monster's gaze that he witnessed something far more unsettling—an insidious satisfaction as if it relished in the suffering it had inflicted.
Ootoro's grip tightened around his kunai, his fingers trembling. He comprehended that this confrontation would be his last. He, a mere mortal, faced an otherworldly horror—an embodiment of darkness and malevolence.
With an unnatural burst of speed, the black monster lunged towards Ootoro. He unleashed a flurry of attacks, each strike infused with desperation and determination. But they were futile, for the creature proved impervious, its form evading his every blow.
As the monster closed in, Ootoro recognized the inevitability of his fate. Its grin widened, its maw stretching impossibly wide, poised to consume him whole. In that fleeting moment, Ootoro accepted his ultimate truth—he was but a pawn in the monster's wicked game.
And then, the darkness consumed him tearing his body apart from limb to limb, ripping his flesh into pieces, pulling out his innards, and all that remained of him before the void took him in was a mortal man drowning in pain.
In the aftermath, after Shinobi found the remains and the messages whispers of the black monster and its malevolent grin echoed among the soldiers, a nightmarish tale passed down through generations—a chilling reminder of the relentless darkness that lurked in the shadows.
United by Ootoro's sacrifice, his comrades that saw him venture into the darkness forged an unbreakable bond and vowed to continue the fight. With unwavering resolve, they committed to protecting the Supply Point, undeterred by the haunting presence of the black monster.
With Ootoro's sacrifice guiding them, they pushed forward, not doubting, not faltering in their duties, for after all they are Shinobi, guardians of their village, and they would not be swayed by a mere shadow lurking in the darkness.
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