Chapter 298: Huntress in the Storm
Fugai crouched at the edge of the snow-covered battlefield, the air shimmering with heat and residual sparks from Ranke's explosive entrance. Her violet eyes scanned the devastation ahead—the scorched and melted path Ranke had carved, lined by the crumbling fortifications of Shirakawa. The chaos was perfect, a violent symphony conducted by her electrifying companion.
With a sudden, fierce grin, Fugai burst forward, her movement instantaneous and thunderous. Snow exploded around her boots in glittering plumes of white powder, leaving a deep trench in her wake. As she charged, Gelel energy coursed through her veins, mingling violently with her chakra, causing her long, rich brown hair to glow brilliant white—an unmistakable beacon amid the storm.
She felt exhilarated, powerful, and completely alive.
At the fortress wall, Fugai vaulted effortlessly upward, the sheer force of her leap launching her like a missile high into the air. For a moment, silhouetted against the stormy sky, her glowing figure hung poised—imposing and breathtaking, a vision of raw strength.
Then she descended, a living meteor wrapped in vibrant Gelel power.
Crashing into the fortress courtyard, the impact was explosive. A shockwave of wind and snow rippled outward, sending the nearest traitor shinobi sprawling backward, landing in stunned heaps. Fugai straightened slowly, armor gleaming under swirling flakes, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, a wolfish smile spreading across her lips.
"Well," Fugai murmured mockingly, brushing loose strands of luminous hair away from her face, "aren't you all just the warmest welcoming party?"
She took a step forward, deliberately provocative, reveling in the stares—shocked, wary, and openly admiring. Her beauty was striking and severe: porcelain skin contrasted starkly with glowing eyes and flowing hair, the dark blue steel armor elegantly hugging her robust, statuesque frame. The violet gleam of her irises intensified as Gelel surged, heightening every sense, every nerve ending singing with fierce clarity.
She waited—briefly, deliberately—letting them take her in. Some of the younger, more foolish shinobi openly gaped, their stunned gazes tracing her shapely figure, only half-obscured by her intricate armor. Fugai snorted derisively. The weak were always drawn to beauty right before it crushed them.
"Enough gawking," she growled sharply, her voice echoing with a wolfish timbre. "Who here calls themselves a leader?"
Her challenge shattered their stunned paralysis. From the back, one shinobi—taller, more composed, clearly someone in charge—began barking orders.
"Form ranks! Capture her!"
"Found you," Fugai whispered triumphantly, a predator locking onto her prey. Her movements blurred with raw, unstoppable force, appearing instantly in front of the speaker. Before he could finish his startled curse, Fugai backhanded him viciously.
The impact was catastrophic. Armor crumpled like paper, bones cracked audibly, and the man's entire form hurtled through the air. He crashed through one building wall, and then another, disappearing from view, leaving only a gaping hole and falling debris.
A heavy silence blanketed the yard. Fugai straightened her posture slowly, casually turning to face the stunned onlookers, a single eyebrow arched imperiously.
"Next?" she asked, voice dripping with cold amusement.
As panic erupted around her, Fugai moved like a whirlwind—swift, brutal, and unyielding. She had no patience for stealth, and no desire for subtlety. Her very presence was an open declaration of power, dominance, and feral superiority.
A cluster of traitors tried to form a defensive line. Fugai met them with a furious, low roar.
"Earthshaker Stomp!"
Her armored boot crashed onto the icy ground, seismic waves radiating outward. The very earth splintered, jagged pillars rising violently beneath the warriors' feet, scattering them like leaves. Bodies fell, twisted and broken, scattered around Fugai like the wreckage after a storm.
"How boring," Fugai remarked mockingly, her tone edged with disdain. She pivoted, sniffing the air instinctively—tracking the distinctive scent of command, the subtle aura of authority carried by those who called themselves leaders.
She surged forward once again, guided by that unmistakable scent, eyes alight with predatory hunger. She burst into another courtyard, spotting a trio of commanders hurriedly issuing orders from behind fortified walls. Their frightened, desperate gestures marked them clearly as prey.
Fugai snarled gleefully, armor glowing with Gelel's wild, potent energy. She leaped upward once more, her figure stark against the stormy backdrop—then descended like judgment itself.
"Wolf's Fang!" she howled.
Sharp chakra claws extended from her gauntlets, blazing bright blue, slicing effortlessly through reinforced barriers of metal and stone. The trio scarcely had time to scream. Fugai tore into them, her claws a merciless blur. Blood and fragments of armor sprayed the snow-covered ground, staining it red, as Fugai stood in triumph over her fallen enemies.
She inhaled deeply, savoring the momentary calm. Yet her senses immediately pricked again. There were others, leaders still hiding, still issuing desperate orders to rally defenders. Fugai's smirk widened wickedly. Her hunt was not yet over.
Again and again, Fugai surged onward. Wherever orders rang out, wherever a voice of authority commanded resistance, she appeared—swift, devastating, uncompromising. Each target fell in rapid succession, the fortress descending steadily into chaos and despair.
At the center of the compound, several commanders regrouped, their faces pale, voices frantic.
"Pull everyone back!" one shouted desperately. "We can't hold her off!"
"Too late," Fugai's voice cut in coldly.
Their panicked gazes turned upward as she dropped from above, violet eyes burning. Fugai unleashed a primal, chakra-infused roar, her voice resonating like thunder:
"Feral Roar!"
The deafening soundwave blasted outward, smashing through the gathered commanders with unstoppable force. Bodies flew, chakra networks ruptured, armor shredded and twisted by pure sonic fury. When the dust and snow settled, only silence remained.
Fugai straightened slowly, casting a disdainful glance around the shattered remains of the commanders. They were broken, defeated, their brief resistance crushed utterly beneath her might.
She stood tall, her armor glowing faintly, hair and eyes still radiant with unleashed Gelel energy. For a moment, Fugai simply relished the exhilarating rush of battle, the primal thrill of asserting dominance over lesser foes.
Behind her, distant explosions and lightning crackles continued—Ranke, still holding the front lines, drawing away any remaining attention. Good. This was exactly the chaos Malik had ordered: spectacular, distracting, and merciless.
Fugai exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. She had fulfilled her role perfectly.
She stepped forward, casually kicking aside the battered remains of fallen enemies as she surveyed the devastated battlefield, noting with approval how completely their leadership structure had collapsed.
"Fools," she murmured scornfully. "You never stood a chance."
She allowed herself a triumphant, wolfish grin. The hunt had been exquisite, the victory sweet. Now, it was simply a matter of cleanup and awaiting Malik's next order.
Yet even as she stood among her fallen foes, a restless excitement still burned fiercely within her. She wondered idly if more challengers might yet appear, if further opportunities for battle would arise.
Her smile widened eagerly.
After all, Fugai Kurogane, Knight of the Iron Howl, lived for the thrill of the hunt.
Fugai paused in the devastation she'd wrought, standing tall and silent amid the wreckage. Her heart still thundered with battle-lust, her eyes blazing fiercely as residual chakra crackled across her form, green Gelel energy arcing subtly between her fingertips. Despite her easy dominance, she was meticulous—victory was never truly certain until every threat was accounted for. A hunter's instincts never failed her, and those instincts whispered now.
Her violet eyes narrowed thoughtfully, scanning the courtyard, past splintered wood and crumbling stone, toward the deeper structures hidden in the shadowed recesses of the fortress. An ornate yet modest building, half-hidden behind reinforced walls and cloaked by swirling snow, drew her attention. It seemed different, heavier with an aura of authority and desperation. Fugai's lips curled with a predatory smile.
"One last den of wolves," she murmured to herself, stepping forward deliberately.
Each step resounded through the silent battlefield, punctuated only by distant, muffled shouts and Ranke's echoing thunderous clashes. Fugai brushed through the heavy snow-covered doorway, barely noticing the guards who emerged hastily to stop her. Her response was swift and devastating: a blur of motion, a few swift strikes. Armored bodies crumpled with cries of pain, incapacitated but deliberately left breathing. Koyuki Kazahana might want them alive, Fugai mused darkly, though she personally cared little either way.
Inside the hidden chamber, Fugai found exactly what she had hoped: the generals, standing tense but defiant, their presence marked by faded glory and stubborn pride.
General Norikazu stood tall despite his age, his white hair stark against the dark, weathered leather armor that had seen countless battles. His gaze was stern, unyielding, a reflection of decades spent in command. Beside him, younger but heavily scarred General Isamu glared, dark eyes filled with barely concealed rage and desperation, his fingers already twitching toward the hilt of a blade that had survived more fights than its wielder should have allowed.
The woman, Setsuna, captured Fugai's interest immediately. Her sleek black hair cascaded down her back, a single rebellious lock draping elegantly across her sharp, determined features. Her stance spoke of confidence edged by caution, her eyes reflecting cold cunning beneath a layer of forced calm.
The silence was thick, tense, electric. Fugai tilted her head, a provocative smirk crossing her lips. "Three little generals hiding in their final den. Brave, foolish, or both?"
Norikazu's voice was gravelly yet unwavering. "We will not surrender to a tyrant's assassin."
Fugai chuckled deeply, low and threatening. "Surrender? Oh no, I prefer it when you fight. It's more entertaining."
General Isamu roared in defiance, chakra igniting in a blaze of energy. "Then die here, monster! Water Style: Crushing Torrent!"
Water burst from his palms, spiraling violently toward Fugai. Calmly, she raised one armored gauntlet, chakra surging effortlessly. "Iron Guard," she whispered, Gelel energy merging seamlessly with chakra, forming an impenetrable green-blue barrier. The water splashed uselessly, dissipating instantly.
Setsuna moved swiftly, leaping gracefully sideways toward a cracked window, exploiting the icy conditions. "Ice Style: Frozen Spears!" she cried sharply, ice forming instantly from the swirling snowflakes, solidifying into razor-sharp spears aimed straight at Fugai.
Fugai's eyes glinted with savage delight, sidestepping fluidly. The spears shattered harmlessly against her enhanced armor. "Pathetic," she taunted, shaking her head mockingly.
Norikazu's aged hands formed rapid seals, drawing from decades of refined mastery. "Water Style: Explosive Wave!" he bellowed.
A surge of explosive force, powerful and precise, erupted toward Fugai. She welcomed it, meeting it head-on, absorbing and dispersing the blow with casual grace. Her laughter echoed cruelly, driving a spike of fear through the generals.
Isamu drew his sword, charging with frantic bravery. Fugai pivoted smoothly, catching his blade effortlessly, snapping it like a brittle twig before delivering a bone-crushing punch. His scream echoed painfully, his broken form collapsing.
Setsuna's eyes widened momentarily with panic, but she regrouped swiftly, sending another cascade of ice toward Fugai. The huntress was faster—leaping through it, shattering the frozen assault with brutal efficiency before gripping Setsuna's throat, slamming her harshly into the wall.
Norikazu, eyes blazing with desperation, attacked again. Fugai swung Setsuna at him, forcing the elderly general to falter, his blow hesitating fatally. Fugai closed the gap instantly, delivering a swift, punishing strike that sent him sprawling, coughing blood and gasping.
Standing among the fallen, Fugai allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction. She lifted Setsuna again effortlessly, gripping the general's face tightly in one hand, raising her fully off the ground. Fugai examined the woman closely, noting the finely sculpted features, her delicate yet fierce beauty.
For a fleeting second, jealousy stirred within Fugai's chest, dark and raw. Her Malik might look upon this pretty face and perhaps show unwarranted mercy. Her sharp nails pressed tighter against Setsuna's pale skin, digging dangerously close to piercing through.
But Fugai was no fool, nor was Malik. Her jaw tightened, suppressing the juvenile impulse. She was a warrior, proud and fierce—not some insecure lover. Malik valued strength and loyalty, not fleeting beauty or shallow appeal. She relaxed slightly, exhaling sharply.
"Count yourself fortunate," Fugai whispered coldly into Setsuna's frightened, defiant eyes, her voice edged with restrained violence. She dropped the general roughly, watching her crumple weakly to the floor.
Fugai turned away dismissively, sensing approaching chakra signatures—Koyuki's snow ninja allies, shadowy watchers prepared to clean up the aftermath. Fugai stepped outside into the biting cold, shaking off lingering unease.
"Take these pathetic survivors," she ordered, voice calm and authoritative, "but do not mistake mercy for weakness. They live because it suits my purpose, nothing more."
She walked through the devastated fortress grounds, her figure tall and proud amid the shattered remnants of resistance. Each step reaffirmed her strength, her resolve. Behind her, the snow ninja silently moved in, securing their broken prisoners.
Fugai smirked, violet eyes gleaming fiercely with victory and pride. The hunt was over—for now. But battles always returned, and she would always stand ready, an unmatched predator in Malik's pack.