'Genjutsu? There were no signs... or were there? The marker? Or... ', a dangerous glint flashed in Baki's eyes as he seemed to come to a conclusion. Glancing back to the team under him, he found them, the three young genin, still frozen solid with their eyes wide and vacant, caught under the genjutsu.
Their bodies stood rigid as stone statues, sweat already beading along their eyebrows despite the still desert air, the faint tremors in their fingers betrayed the silent battles raging inside their minds.
Seeing them locked in such condition, he didn't step forward and awoke them but rather face the incoming enemies that already noticed the fact that he had broken through the genjutsu.
"What are those two doing!?", one of the raiders barked, his voice breaking with unease.
"This is why I said to kill them!", another spat, spittle flashing in the sun.
"I don't know why the boss is behaving like that? Could they be controlling him!?"
Confusion rippled momentarily across the raiders' ranks, but discipline quickly settled back in. Their eyes fixed on Baki, whose solitary figure stood calm against the desert wind, his cloak stirring faintly as the enemy lines closed in.
High above, at the top of the highest ridge, their leader watched without blinking with a certain intensity in his gaze.
"Shinobi... ", he spoke, his voice low and deep.
"They always think themselves above others, but they bleed like the rest of us.", this time his voice was laced with a venomous and disdain tone while the look on his eyes grew more and more colder.
"The two of you can't use the same genjutsu to affect him again, not without ensnaring my men along with him. Isn't that right?"
The girls froze at the accusation, tension flashing across their pale features. For a heartbeat neither spoke, until the elder sister dipped her head in admission, her voice cool but edged with unease.
"No, and…", her pale eyes narrowed faintly as she studied Baki's unwavering posture. "…I do not think he can be caught again so easily. He broke free too quickly."
"Well... at least his team is still under it, suffering and getting drained."
"Yes.", the elder sister confirmed.
"They should still be facing the endless hordes under our genjutsu."
"Good."
"Sister… shouldn't we—"
Beside the elder sister, the younger one shifted uneasily, her hands trembled faintly while holding the flute close to her chest, and her voice escaped her lips in a whisper very soft, so much that her sister was the only one capable of hearing.
The eldest one place her thin and pale finger to her mouth to her sister, silencing the younger girl instantly.
The younger sister bowed her head at once, her braid slipping forward to cover her face. Her lips closed tightly, though her knuckles remained white around the flute.
Above them, the warlord's shadow stretched long across the ridge, watching as Baki stood ready to meet his advancing men, a lone figure shielding the frozen shinobi who fought invisible wars within their own minds.
If one were to approach the three genin they would find that Daiana and Isan's eyelids fluttered and their eyes had regained a vivid look, with Daiana being more prominent.
Suddenly the first raiders charged forward, a dozen at once, their ragged cries breaking across the dunes. From spears leveled to blades raised, their feet pounded the sand like a war drum.
Baki, on the receiving end of it, stood still while overlooking the incoming forces.
The first spear thrust forward, its jagged tip glittering in the sunlight. In answer to the attack, Baki's hand shot out faster than the raider's eyes could follow. His palm caught the shaft mid-lunge, twisting, and with a sudden pull, the raider's feet left the ground, his own weapon dragging him off balance. A sharp elbow strike shattered his jaw, bone and blood spraying into the air before the man crumpled into the sand, where his life ended the very next moment as his own spear pierced his belly.
Two more raiders closed in from his flanks. Just as Baki pivoted smoothly, his cloak whipping about him like a serpent's coil, something unusual caught the corner of his eye. In the middle of the advancing line, four figures stood out from the formation. They did not carry crude blades or splintered shields, but crossbows reinforced with iron and bone, their strings taut, bolts already loaded.
Unlike the howling tide around them, these men moved with precision, their steps measured and their eyes hardened, showing the years they spent in such a hardous profession.
Their armor, though battered, bore the markings of a professional company: etched sigils, that resembled a 'R' had long since been scarred by numerous battles, leather harnesses carefully maintained, and steel plates fitted for endurance.
Baki's kunai flashed in his hand, so quick it seemed to appear from nothing. The blade carved across one throat in a shallow arc, while his heel snapped back into the ribs of the second. Yet instead of finishing the movement, he twisted his body forcefully, narrowly avoiding the hiss of a crossbow bolt that buried itself deep into the sand where his back had been a moment earlier.
The air vibrated as three more bolts sliced through it in unison, their trajectory sharp and practiced. They weren't firing wildly, but rather were aiming for his legs or torso, as such the second one scraped across his shoulder, tearing flesh in the process.
He hissed, his teeth gritting as he snatched the third bolt mid-flight, spinning it in his fingers before sending it whistling back. The bolt found its mark, punching into a mercenary's throat with a wet crack.
Still the sand around Baki erupted as the surrounding raiders surged forward once more, forcing him to pivot, cut, strike, and break in a storm of close combat. His movements were flawless, every step a calculation, every strike stole a life, but the mercenaries pressed harder, circling, forcing him into narrower space.
They fought like wolves, never overcommitting, each movement synchronized to herd him into range of the next strike. One slashed low at his knees, another aimed high for his throat, while the third slipped to his blind spot, blade raised for a killing thrust.
Baki snapped his cloak outward, the heavy cloth billowing like a shroud. Steel clashed against it, blunted for a heartbeat, just long enough for his kunai to bury into one mercenary's thigh. A roar tore from the man's throat, but even crippled he swung wildly, forcing Baki to retreat two steps back.
For the first time, Baki began to feel the edge of the tide closing around him. The raiders surged with renewed fervor, the mercenaries' precision driving them forward.
Baki's breath sharpened as his fingers formed a seal.
"Wind Style: Wind Blade"
The air screamed as invisible blades tore through the press of bodies.
Many of them were cut apart mid-charge, limbs and torsos cleaving in sprays of blood and sand.
Two mercenaries staggered back, their armor slashed open by the unseen force; yet even as they bled, their eyes locked on Baki, burning with hate.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough"
The desert roared as a gale exploded, a storm of sand and dust engulfing the battlefield.
Raiders tumbled end over end, their screams drowned by the howl of the wind. The remaining mercenaries braced themselves, digging their blades into the ground to anchor, but the storm battered them, forcing their movements into a sluggish defiance.
Through the haze, Baki appeared again, like a phantom carried on the wind. His kunai drove into the ribs of one raider, piercing through steel as if it were paper. There was another one that barely raised his guard before Baki's heel cracked his skull sideways, the impact shattering bone.
"DIE SHINOBI!", the men seeing their comrades death only fueled them as they lunged, while snarling, their curved blades flashing.
The younger girl seeing how the men continued advancing towards Baki, despite the high casualities, unease flickering in her brown eyes.
"Those men... why are they fighting like that? What is pushing them so much?"
A silence settled between the three in the ridge, before someone answered her.
"Life is harsh especially to the weak and untalented, many of us lost our families and lands to the shinobi. Anyone with money gets to hire them for anything, and they do it. Even if it means razing lands and homes to the ground, killing the elderly, women and children, be them highborn or not. These men fight and are pushed by one thing and one thing only. Revenge."
The warlord's voice answered her, low and steady, while he turned his head around and those cold eyes landed on her, though there was a small hint of warmth in them before it was replaced by a massive flow of hatred.
On the battlefield, Baki was beginning to feel the pressure settling over him. He had seen men like this before, they were not to be underestimated. Mercenaries forged in hatred fought with a ferocity and desperation that even shinobi sometimes lacked. Their strength resided not solely on their skill and experience in fighting, but in their willpower that ride on an unshakable desire to see the shinobi bleed and dead.
The four leveled their crossbows again, this time spreading apart to box him in. Their faces, scarred and grim, betrayed no fear.
Baki exhaled slowly, blades still wet with blood. The raiders around them howled, sensing the trap about to spring, but Baki only rolled his shoulders, cloak shifting lightly in the wind.