belamy20
patreon
211-212
🕑 Added 2025-08-17 16:02:32 +0000 UTCChapter 211: Floating Hydro Cannon!
A crimson polyhedron, its edges jagged like fractured ice, pulsed with an eerie glow.
Within the protective barrier of light—
Three elongated water projectiles hovered in a perfect triangular formation, spinning rapidly. Their sharp, drill-like tips emitted high-pressure jets of water, converging into a single, devastating beam that pierced through Raiga and Ranmaru without mercy.
The laser-like torrent erupted from their backs, stained crimson.
Raiga’s Lightning Armor, famed for its defensive prowess, might as well have been butter under a hot knife. The wind-infused hydro beam sliced through it effortlessly.
Clang!
Clang!
The twin blades slipped from Raiga’s hands, their tips striking the ground with a hollow ring.
Raiga’s body stiffened, his eyes glazed over with blood. Beside him, Ranmaru’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, his lips twitching in a voiceless whisper:
"R... run..."
But it was too late.
The moment the hydro beam struck, they were already dead.
The high-pressure, spiraling torrent didn’t just pierce—it liquefied organs, churning their insides into a bloody slurry before blasting it out their backs.
Their chests were hollowed out.
Their brains simply hadn’t caught up yet.
Hiss—!
The scorching beam weakened, its spiraling fury fading into a harmless trickle that painted a straight line across the ground.
The crimson diamond barrier folded inward, vanishing into the void.
Hikari stood untouched—her white kimono pristine, her silver hair swaying gently. Not a drop of sweat, not a speck of blood.
Above her, the three levitating water projectiles ceased their rotation, their eyelike nozzles closing.
What the hell was that?!
Kakashi’s hand trembled around his Raikiri.
He wasn’t shocked that Hikari had one-shot an elite jōnin.
When the Third Hokage himself admitted he had nothing left to teach her, Kakashi had already guessed she’d reached Kage-level.
This just confirmed it.
No—what stunned him was the sheer complexity of that technique.
The floating hydro projectiles defied everything he knew about ninjutsu crafting.
His Sharingan’s dynamic vision couldn’t penetrate the barrier, but he could still analyze the details:
The streamlined, multi-angled structure of the projectiles.
The rotational force adding spiral penetration to the water jets.
The levitation mechanism, likely powered by wind-release turbines at the rear.
And that was just the exterior.
The eyelike nozzles, the hybrid wind-water attack, the instantaneous firing speed—the internal mechanisms had to be even more intricate.
Compared to this, his Raikiri felt like a caveman’s stone axe next to a master-forged katana.
"How… is this even possible?"
Kakashi’s worldview cracked.
"Wind and water nature transformations, plus a little shape manipulation."
Hikari dismissed the hydro projectiles with a flick of her wrist, her flesh seals dimming as the chakra dispersed. She held up her thumb and forefinger, pinching them together.
"Just a teensy bit."
"I—I know that, but—!"
Kakashi’s mind short-circuited.
His teacher, Minato Namikaze, had once said:
"All jutsu require trade-offs."
The more complex a technique, the harder it was to execute—especially in battle.
Raikiri was pure Lightning Release, with basic shape manipulation. Ten hand seals. Two seconds to cast.
But Hikari’s hydro projectiles?
The layered nature and shape transformations should’ve taken twenty minutes to prep—if she used hand signs. Without them? Two hours minimum.
Yet she’d instantly conjured, aimed, and fired them mid-combat.
That wasn’t natural.
"Just call it a talent."
Hikari shrugged, not bothering to explain.
This S-rank technique—*"Floating Hydro Cannon"* (or "Levitating Water Gatling", "Wind-Water Drone Artillery", etc.)—was the seventh iteration of her high-pressure water cutter.
The first version had been clunky:
Slow casting.
Short range (5 meters).
Mediocre power.
Only the water compression method had been noteworthy.
Later, on Thunder Drum Mountain, her Yang Clone had combined wind and water, creating Version 2.
But the casting time (3 seconds) and two-handed requirement made it useless in her taijutsu-centric combat style.
Then came the flesh seals.
With them, she could:
Pre-carve jutsu logic into her body.
Automate nature/shape transformations.
Fire complex techniques instantly.
No hand signs. No delay.
Thus, the Floating Hydro Cannon was born:
V3: Replaced water spheres with streamlined projectiles + turbine levitation.
V4: Added internal chakra storage/compression seals to reduce startup lag.
V5: Used wind-shearing to create 0.01mm nozzles for range/penetration boost.
V6: Mammalian eye-inspired nozzles for aim adjustment.
V7: Wind threads woven into water—exponentially stronger than adding sand/metal.
Five years.
Countless Water Clones refining it.
The result? A technique so complex, no normal ninja could replicate it.
Without flesh seals, even six hand signs per second would require 20+ minutes to cast.
But now?
No hand signs. One-second firing. Three shots per volley.
The flesh seals were like industrializing ninjutsu—turning handcrafted spells into assembly-line artillery.
And against conventional techniques?
It was technology versus spears.
"Since I handled the enemy solo, the loot’s mine."
Ignoring Kakashi’s existential crisis, Hikari approached Raiga and Ranmaru’s bodies.
Their chests were gaping holes, edges spiraled from the hydro drill. No blood, no organs—just clean, hollow cavities.
Death had been instantaneous.
With a flick of her wrist, water whips extended from her back, lifting Raiga’s twin blades for inspection.
"Thunderfang" (Raikiri) was a pair of lightning-shaped swords, their edges jagged like forked bolts. The hilts were short, wrapped in grip tape.
At a glance, they seemed ordinary—but her Byakugan saw engraved seals within the metal, fused during forging.
Lightning-enhancing formulas.
She’d copy these later to boost her own Lightning Release.
Setting the blades aside, she extended a chakra scalpel, preparing to extract Ranmaru’s crimson eyes.
Their Byakugan-jamming ability overlapped with her barrier jutsu, and she already had enough ocular powers.
But after burning so much chakra without finding Haku or Ice Release, she refused to leave empty-handed.
These eyes would be her consolation prize.
As Hikari looted, the crowd erupted in cheers.
They’d waited—wary of Raiga’s possible survival—until Hikari claimed his swords. Only then did they dare celebrate.
"We won!"
"Lord Raiga is dead!"
"The nightmare’s over!"
Tazuna trembled, tears welling.
Kōsuke, leader of the militia, exhaled in relief. He’d rounded up Raiga’s men, just in case the battle turned—ready to trade prisoners for the Konoha team’s lives.
But the worst-case scenario never came.
Inari, spared his stepfather’s death, bounced excitedly, staring at Naruto and Sasuke’s forehead protectors with stars in his eyes.
"How much effort do you think Hikari used?"
"Three-tenths, max."
"More like two-point-five."
"Oh, come on!"
Naruto and Sasuke bickered, oblivious to Inari’s awe.
To them, Hikari one-shotting Raiga was expected.
She was Konoha’s greatest genius. The Third’s secret disciple. A monstrous taijutsu specialist.
If she hadn’t used taijutsu, she wasn’t even trying.
In their minds, Hikari had four combat phases:
Barrier + Ninjutsu Bombardment (Current phase).
Taijutsu Hybrid Mode (If you somehow closed the distance).
Tailed Beast Cloak (Naruto’s theory).
Eight Gates (Absolute nightmare).
Thus, 2.5/10 effort seemed accurate.
"Fair."
Sasuke conceded—though he wondered what a "tailed beast cloak" was.
Naruto just grinned.
"Remember that time you shot a Fireball at her, and she caught it bare-handed? Yeah. That."
Sasuke’s eye twitched.
Damn it.
Changing the subject, he eyed Raiga’s swords, plotting how to claim them.
Then—
He noticed Hikari pausing, her gaze locked on the distant sea.
What was she looking at?
His Sharingan activated, scanning the horizon—
Where thick fog had suddenly swirled into existence.
Chapter 212: Continuous Battle
The leaden-gray clouds gathered under the howling wind, sealing away the last sliver of golden light. The faces of those below darkened as the world dimmed around them.
"Fog again?"
Naruto’s wild blond hair whipped in the wind as he craned his neck toward the coast. A thick, murky mist—almost the same color as the darkened sky—spread across the sea, turning the vast waters into a chaotic abyss. Hidden currents surged beneath the fog, as if monstrous creatures lurked just out of sight, sending chills down their spines.
"With wind this strong, this isn’t natural fog."
Sasuke’s white robes fluttered violently, his Sharingan’s twin tomoe spinning as he traced the faint blue chakra glow within the mist.
It was subtle, almost indistinguishable from ordinary chakra—but he recognized it instantly.
"It’s that bastard Zabuza!"
A shrill, furious voice cut through the silence.
Everyone turned to see Gato, bound and stuffed inside a coffin, his face bloodied, sunglasses shattered, teeth broken—nothing left of his former tycoon’s arrogance.
"Shut up!"
A self-defense fighter kicked him, silencing his outburst.
"That’s Zabuza’s jutsu… Didn’t he run away?" someone muttered.
**"He didn’t run—he just disappeared!"**
"Same difference. Why’s he back now?"
"Probably hiding nearby. Saw Raiga Kurosuki was dead and decided to slither back!"
Whispers spread through the crowd. Many still remembered Zabuza as the "hero ninja" who had helped them break free from Gato’s grip years ago. Without him, the bridge—and their survival—would’ve been impossible.
Even if he’d vanished when they needed him most, most couldn’t bring themselves to curse his name.
Naruto opened his mouth, eager to defend Zabuza, but Sasuke silenced him with a sharp look.
If Zabuza’s been hiding, exposing him now would just paint a target on his back—and endanger the Land of Waves all over again.
Some burdens couldn’t be shared.
West of the Plaza
Hikari continued extracting Ranko’s red eyes, though her movements quickened slightly.
"That’s the direction we came from," Kakashi noted, stepping beside her.
Even with the Sharingan, the dense fog was impenetrable—only the faintest traces of chakra flickered within. The villagers were right. This was Zabuza’s Hidden Mist Jutsu.
"About two nautical miles out," Hikari murmured, calculating the distance as her chakra scalpel worked.
The plaza sat on the western coast, connected to the Hero’s Bridge—a hub for trade between Fire and Water.
Raiga’s gang had blockaded the bridge, forcing Team 7 to sneak in by sea. Now, the mist’s epicenter hovered near their landing point.
"Zabuza’s being chased," Kakashi deduced. "His pursuer must’ve found his real body."
He glanced at Hikari.
Zabuza’s enemy had to be at least elite jonin-level—maybe stronger. If not, Zabuza wouldn’t have fled so desperately.
Logically, this wasn’t their fight.
But—
"Is that girl, Haku, really that important to you?" Kakashi asked bluntly.
Hikari didn’t pause. "Critical."
That single word sealed their course.
"Any intel on the enemy? Strength?"
"Stronger than the Hokage. No obvious weaknesses. No point planning."
Kakashi stiffened.
Stronger than the Third?
A foe on par with a Kage—here, now.
He exhaled sharply, then vanished in a blur, reappearing beside Naruto and Sasuke.
If this battle erupted, the entire port would be leveled. Evacuation came first.
Hikari’s Preparation
With Ranko’s red eyes safely preserved in saline solution (why did she carry that around?), Hikari straightened, her gaze locked on the chakra storm in the mist.
She hadn’t expected this level of opposition.
Originally, she’d thought this mission would be a simple skirmish with Zabuza—so she hadn’t brought much chakra.
Three "Floating Water Cannons" against Raiga had cost less than one "card" of chakra.
Now?
Twenty-four cards left.
Should be enough.
"Hmm—"
The crimson seals on her skin glowed, violet chakra surging through her veins like lightning. Flesh and meridians overheated from the sheer output.
"Pfft—"
Steam hissed between her lips, swirling around her like ethereal serpents trapped in a diamond-red barrier.
A low, mechanical hum filled the air as six elongated water spears materialized around her, their turbine-like cores accelerating.
Predatory eyes snapped open along their lengths, locking onto the distant fog.
Their mission?
Snipe the enemy before they reach shore.
Five Minutes Earlier – The Sea
A bloodied figure darted through the mist, his movements erratic, ghostly—leaving no ripple in the fog.
Behind him, black tendrils, thick as cables, slithered through the air like monstrous parasites, their sheer numbers enough to make skin crawl.
"Hah—!"
Zabuza exhaled sharply, his Hidden Mist Jutsu weaving a net of chakra-laced fog—a futile attempt to slow his pursuer.
The tendrils ignored it.
They twisted, merging into a single, spear-like formation—
—then shot forward with a sound like tearing metal.
CLANG!!!
Zabuza barely swung Kubikiribōchō in time. The impact slammed into his back, nearly knocking him into the waves.
His organs screamed. Blood filled his mouth.
Damn it…!
Through the mist, he sensed his enemy’s chakra—ten times his own.
A monster.
The last time he’d felt this suffocating pressure was years ago, during his failed assassination of the Fourth Mizukage.
Why is someone like this after me?!
His luck was cursed.
Water Country? Ambushed by Kirigakure hunters.
Escape by sea? Stumbled into Orochimaru and the Mist’s Bloody Fangs mid-battle.
Hide in Wave? First Raiga, now this.
He’d barely survived each time—thanks to Haku.
Now?
Alone.
"Tch—!"
The tendrils struck again, forcing him into another desperate dodge. His chakra was drying up.
Then—
SPLASH!
The sea erupted, more tendrils bursting from below, their surfaces studded with eerie white masks.
Zabuza skidded to a halt, surrounded.
A calm, hollow voice echoed behind him.
"Momochi Zabuza. Wanted: 30 million ryo. Kubikiribōchō: 25 million."
Zabuza’s blood ran cold.
When did he—?!
No time to think.
With a snarl, he whirled, his massive blade carving a deadly arc—
—and finally saw his hunter.
A man in a black cloak with red clouds, half-unbuttoned.
Pale skin. Sewn-shut mouth. Yellow eyes, empty as a corpse’s.
Another monster.
"Die, freak!"
Zabuza’s veins bulged as he swung, pouring years of frustration into this single strike.
