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Naruto: Cthulhu: Ch. 258
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 00:12:39 +0000 UTCIn a gentle clearing within the forest stood a crude hut built from round stones and gravel, its roof covered with branches of cedar trees, a specialty of the Land of the North.
In front of the hut, a great and peculiar piece of obsidian served as a platform upon which a fire blazed fiercely.
Perhaps due to some unique chemical within the burning material, the flames bore faint hues of blue, green, and white, while the smoke rising from them twisted into pale spirals.
Behind the fire sat a gaunt and disheveled old man. He wore an ancient, tattered brown robe, the long hem of which dragged along the ground and had been stained black by the soil. In his hands, the old man fiddled with a bundle of branches, stirring the flames before him in a strange rhythm. Though the day was bright and warm, with no need for fire for warmth or cooking, he continued tending it.
When the four men leapt down from the treetops and stood before the fire, the old man, who had previously appeared calm and focused on his task, immediately raised his head. He glared at the group with fury before lowering his head again to mind the fire.
Setsuna was slightly startled by the man's hostile gaze, but still politely asked, "Excuse me, is there a road nearby that leads farther north?"
His courteous question received no reply. The old man continued to focus on the fire, paying them no attention. The air hung still for two seconds, broken only by the crackling of the flames.
This silence infuriated the hot-tempered Gitai.
"He asked you a question!"
Saying this, he stepped forward and kicked over the fire the old man had so carefully tended. The colorful flames scattered in an instant. The old man jumped up immediately, glaring at them with seething rage. He began to curse the four in a fluent but unclear language, full of sharp, guttural tones.
Though they couldn't understand the words, the man's expressions made the meaning clear, they were as filthy and venomous as he was.
"Language barrier, huh? Well then, if that's the case, this old man is of no use. Gitai, take care of it."
Seeing no value in keeping the old man alive, Setsuna abandoned his polite tone. He gave a brief command and walked off with the other two.
Gitai, left behind, slowly swung the chain-blade in his hand, a short sickle attached to a long iron chain meant to extend reach, and advanced toward the old man.
The old man never stopped cursing, even as Gitai buried the weapon deep into his heart. His final expression was a grotesque mix of fury and malice, twisted into a grinning sneer.
Gitai wiped the bloodied blade with the man's filthy robe and scanned the surroundings, ensuring no one else was around. What surprised him a little was that, even with a weapon in his hand and death near, the old man's face showed not the slightest fear.
Perhaps that's just how the savages of this land are. They can't even recognize death when it's upon them.
With that thought, he turned and left.
Shortly after, the crude hut and the old man's corpse shimmered in the sunlight and vanished like a mirage.
The clearing was left completely empty.
The Gang of Four continued onward. After more than an hour, they finally found a road leading north through a mountain valley. The path through the valley was narrow, likely a footpath used by the local tribes, and only wide enough for two terracotta warriors to walk side by side.
The four immediately reported the discovery to Yomi. Conveniently, Moryō had just finished resting and could resume control of the undead army.
As the army entered the narrow valley, they were forced to break formation. From a neat square, they stretched into a long line, two by two, along the winding trail.
Yomi lifted his eyes to the slopes and ridges thick with forest on both sides. Suddenly, a flock of birds took off in alarm.
Unusual sounds began to echo through the woods.
They were like the howls of beasts, yet carried a strange intelligence, almost like the cries were calling to one another.
Moryō immediately halted the undead army. The terracotta warriors on both sides turned as one, raising their weapons toward the forest.
But then, something unbelievable happened.
In unison, the warriors dropped their weapons, spears, halberds, swords, letting them clatter to the ground.
In an instant, the narrow valley resembled an ancient battlefield where soldiers had abandoned their arms and armor.
He panicked. He commanded Yomi to rise from the pedestal and roared at the warriors in a dark, furious voice: "Pick up your weapons! My soldiers! Pick them up now!"
But the terracotta warriors, who could only move under his control, stood still and silent, empty-handed and unmoved.
Meanwhile, the howls from the forest grew closer, until rustling could be heard from the underbrush.
Figures began to emerge, humanoid, snarling. They were hideous, matted, and dressed in rags, indicating they had once been human not long ago.
Yet, their muscular limbs, animalistic movement, sometimes bipedal, sometimes on all fours, and their protruding jaws and sharp fangs made them seem more like beasts.
These wolf-like humanoids charged from the woods and launched a savage assault on the terracotta warriors. Yet the undead soldiers remained unarmed and motionless.
"Obey my command! Pick up your weapons!"
Still, the warriors stood frozen.
What terrified him wasn't the ferocious, wolf-like enemies. It wasn't even that his army was about to be annihilated, weaponless.
It was that his power had failed, he could no longer control his puppets. This felt like a creation rebelling against its creator, no, even worse. These terracotta warriors weren't even full creations. They were puppets, lifeless, mindless tools animated solely by his will.
And now, those puppets were defying their master.
Impossible!
What was going on?!
The humanoid creatures ferociously lunged at the terracotta warriors. Their repulsive, foul-smelling bodies clashed with the cold, clay forms of the warriors. Although the terracotta warriors couldn't wield weapons, they could at least put up some resistance. Clumsily, they began swinging their arms to strike the werewolves on them.
The werewolves roared madly, baring fangs and slashing claws across the warriors' clay bodies, their sharp talons stomping fiercely at the joints of the warriors.
These fearless assaults didn't do much damage to the terracotta warriors. Instead, the werewolves ended up injuring themselves, blood pouring from their wounds and splattering over the warriors' gray forms.
But soon, the intelligent werewolves discovered the terracotta warriors' weakness. They began using their powerful limbs to push the warriors together. As the warriors collided in pairs, their bodies immediately started to fall apart.
With this method of attack, the werewolves began to break through the ranks of the Ghost Army. The clay warriors fell one after another, only to rise again under the power of Moryō.
What made the Ghost Army "undead" was precisely Moryō's ability to endlessly repair the warriors' bodies, allowing them to rise over and over again, until their enemies were completely worn down.
But now, his repair speed couldn't keep up with how fast the werewolves were smashing the warriors.
Worse still, even after he repaired them, it couldn't make the warriors pick up weapons to fight the werewolves.
Without weapons, the terracotta warriors couldn't kill a single "werewolf." They could only be shoved together like fragile building blocks, and then shattered.
He had never encountered such an abnormal situation.
It now felt as if its Ghost Army was being affected by some mysterious force, unable to use weapons.
This mysterious power was even stronger than the sealing arts once used by the priestess of the Land of Demons, who had sealed him. Because this time, the "curse" had taken effect without him even sensing it.
To Moryō, any force that could nullify its abilities was no different from a curse.
At that moment, several werewolves lunged toward Yomi as well.
The Gang of Four immediately formed a square formation, placing Yomi at the center for protection.
But just as Setsuna was about to draw his kunai to fight, the moment he pulled it out, he dropped it to the ground of his own accord.
What was going on?
At first, he assumed it was just a coordination failure between his hands and brain, and bent down to pick up the kunai. But he couldn't even complete the motion, his right hand froze in mid-air.
Beside him, Gitai also dropped his chained blade and tried to bend down to retrieve it, but his body wouldn't respond. His arm hung awkwardly in the air.
"Why? My body… it won't listen to me."
Setsuna quickly realized that they might be just like the terracotta warriors, unable to use weapons. He immediately gave the order: "Forget the weapons! Protect Yomi-sama!"
As the werewolves pounced toward them, the Gang of Four engaged in hand-to-hand combat.
Because their chakra-based ninjutsu required pre-battle preparation, and there was no time to replenish chakra now, they could only rely on close-quarters physical combat. The werewolves possessed wild strength and crude but effective fighting skills. For the moment, the Gang of Four could gain no clear advantage.
But soon, with superior fighting skills, the Gang of Four managed to break free of the werewolves' attacks by smashing critical joints like their ankles with sheer force.
During the fight, Setsuna was also deep in thought, trying to understand why they couldn't use weapons.
If it were only the terracotta warriors who couldn't wield weapons, it might have just been an issue with Moryō. But now that even his own body seemed to be acting on its own, discarding his weapon, it had to be due to some special influence in this area.
Thinking back, nothing especially unusual had happened since entering the Land of the North...
Except, Setsuna's eyes widened. He suddenly remembered the gaunt, filthy old man they had encountered earlier in the forest cabin.
That old man had been muttering incomprehensible words fluently in his rage. Could it have been some strange, local curse technique passed down in this land?
Though he was reluctant to believe it, he couldn't think of any other explanation.
He immediately leapt to the front of Yomi's palanquin and reported this to Yomi and Moryō.
"Such a thing happened?"
Yomi's voice sounded from his mouth. Ever since Moryō had entered Yomi's body, it was rare for Yomi himself to speak at all.
"Regardless of whether it's true or not, the Ghost Army is struggling to advance. If this continues, it will certainly interfere with me obtaining a new body."
Moryō's words weren't without reason. In wide open terrain, the Ghost Army could rely on its tight formations and weaponry to block attacks and break through fortresses.
But here, in this cramped, narrow mountain valley, the Ghost Army's line formation wasn't effective against attacks. Worse, the fallen terracotta warriors in front blocked the ones behind, greatly slowing their advance.
"In that case, why don't we leave the Ghost Army here for now? Once you obtain a new body, we can return and revive them again."
Faced with Yomi's suggestion, Moryō considered it for a moment and replied darkly, "It's the only option."
With a single thought from Moryō, all the terracotta warriors that still maintained physical form began to curl inward, gradually transforming into massive stone spheres.
Yomi then leapt into the dense forest of the valley, followed by the Gang of Four.
---
When Kakashi arrived in response to a message from scout ninja up ahead, all he saw was a series of massive stone spheres cluttering the narrow mountain road.
"Was it already like this when you got here?" he asked a nearby ninja.
"Yeah, since there were ninja among the Ghost Army, I didn't get too close."
Kakashi approached one of the stone spheres and inspected it closely. On its surface were faint traces of blood. The quantity wasn't large, but nearly every stone sphere was stained.
"This is…" Guy said, puzzled. "Blood. And it looks like human blood. It hasn't completely dried yet, it hasn't been long."
Kakashi sniffed at the blood on the stone as he tried to piece together what had happened here. The terracotta warriors of the Ghost Army wouldn't bleed, so this had to mean that someone had fought here and spilled blood.
But then, where were the corpses? With this much blood, there should have been bodies to match, but none were in sight. And these stone spheres were clearly the terracotta warriors controlled by Moryō. But why would Moryō abandon them here?
Just as he was running out of possible explanations, a ninja behind him suddenly shouted.
"Over here! There's something!"
