The leader of the hostile group spoke while casting a condescending gaze toward Dan, Leon, and Sato standing before him: "I advise you not to resist and to surrender yourselves voluntarily. We might show mercy for your intrusion into the Territory of the Sacred Dragons, which belongs to Lord Ayato."
His tone sounded confident, even arrogant. Although he had noticed that the individuals before him were not ordinary, the numbers were in his favor—twenty warriors against only three. He then signaled with his hand to his group scattered around them. Immediately, they surrounded the three in a tight circular formation. Every one of them drew his katana from its sheath, brandishing them all at almost the exact same moment.
Cling!
A single, long metallic sound echoed as nineteen swords were drawn together. They stood in an organized circular formation, their blades pointed inward. A complete encirclement. Their features were confident, as if the matter were already decided.
Leon took a single step forward. His face carried a small, eager smile, like someone who had been waiting for this exact moment. Then, something happened that none of the surrounding warriors could track with their eyes. With a speed that was entirely invisible—as if he had instantaneously teleported from his spot without movement—Leon suddenly appeared in front of one of the warriors standing in the circle.
The warrior did not understand what had happened. He blinked once, and suddenly the young man with sky-blue hair was directly in front of his face.
Crack!
A punch. A single, simple, direct punch to the warrior's face. A terrifying sound of shattering was heard. The wooden helmet the warrior wore disintegrated completely as if it were made of fragile pottery. The pieces flew in every direction. And the warrior himself? His face collapsed inward, and he was sent flying backward through the air as if he had been struck by a giant bus. He flew a full ten meters through the air before colliding with the trunk of a massive tree with enormous force. The tree shook. The bark of the trunk cracked from the power of the impact. Then he fell to the ground like a heavy sack, undoubtedly dead, with blood hemorrhaging from his nose, mouth, and ears.
Absolute silence. All the remaining warriors froze in their places, looking in shock at what had just occurred. Then, Leon heard Dan's calm voice from behind him, speaking in a tone of slight reprimand: "I told you: soften your blows. I need them alive."
Leon turned quickly toward his father, a clear apologetic look on his face. He said in a voice of genuine apology: "I am sorry, Father. I thought they were a bit stronger. I did not think they were this fragile—"
Before he could finish his sentence, one of the warriors attacked him from directly behind. A sudden, opportunistic strike. The warrior raised his sword high and brought it down with all his strength toward Leon's turned back. A swift descending cut, targeting the neck. But without even turning around—Leon's eyes were still looking at his father—he extended his left hand backward in an almost lazy motion. He caught the descending sword blade with his bare hand directly.
The sword stopped completely. It was as if two steel hooks were gripping it. The strangest thing for the attacker was that the enemy's hand before him was not damaged at all. No wound, no blood, not even a scratch. The skin was perfectly intact. The attacker's eyes widened with visible terror. Around him, his comrades looked on with the same shock and horror. One of them muttered in a trembling voice: "A monster..."
Indeed. He caught the sword with his bare hand without any injury and anticipated the attack from behind without looking. Not a normal human. A monster.
Leon gave a wider smile. Now the real fun begins. He gripped the sword trapped in his palm and pulled the warrior holding it forward with great force. The warrior lost his balance completely, pulled toward Leon involuntarily.
A knee.
His right knee rose rapidly, colliding with the enemy's armored stomach with devastating force.
Clang!
The iron armor plate on his stomach? It dented inward as if it were compressed paper. The ribs behind it shattered with an audible cracking sound. The warrior was launched backward, vomiting blood, and fell to the ground writhing in intense pain before losing consciousness.
"Two," Leon counted in a playful voice.
Now, the remaining warriors understood. This was not a fight. They had fallen into a trap. But it was too late. Three warriors attacked together from different directions, attempting to overwhelm the enemy. From the right, a horizontal sword strike targeted the waist. From the left, a straight thrust toward the chest. From the front, a vertical cut toward the head. A coordinated, simultaneous attack.
Leon did not move from his spot. He merely leaned forward slightly—the sword coming from above passed centimeters over his head. At the same moment, his body rotated slightly—the horizontal sword from the right passed in front of his stomach without touching him. And the thrust from the left? He caught it with his hand once again, stopping it simply. Three simultaneous attacks. He evaded them all with simple movements, without any apparent effort.
The three warriors were even more shocked; they did not understand how the madman before them could anticipate their coordinated attacks as if he were watching the future. Leon smiled. "Good attempt."
Then he moved. A left punch to the warrior on his right—directly to the jaw. The jaw shattered; the man spun in the air before falling unconscious. A roundhouse kick to the warrior in front of him—his foot collided with the man's chest. The armor shattered, and with it, his ribcage broke; he flew backward and fell motionless. And the warrior on the left whose sword Leon was still holding? Leon pulled him forcefully toward him, then headbutted him directly. Leon's forehead collided with the warrior's face. A shattered nose, along with the helmet, and an immediate loss of consciousness.
Three warriors fell in less than two seconds. Now, panic began to spread clearly among the remaining warriors. But their leader—the man with short black hair—shouted loudly: "Do not retreat! Attack him all together!"
Five warriors rushed toward him from different directions, their swords raised. Leon did not wait for them. He was the one who attacked this time. He vanished from his spot. The same invisible speed. He appeared in front of the first—a punch to the stomach. He launched backward. He appeared behind the second—a kick to the back. He fell on his face. He appeared beside the third—an elbow strike to the head. He lost consciousness immediately. The fourth tried to defend, raising his sword. But Leon kicked the sword, breaking it in half, then kicked its owner in the chest. He flew. The fifth tried to flee. Too late. Leon grabbed him by the shoulder from behind and threw him to the ground with force. The earth cracked beneath him.
Five warriors down.
The remaining ones began to retreat visibly, clear fear in their eyes. Their leader—one of the three at the Jonin level—decided to intervene personally. He rushed forward at a speed higher than his comrades. His sword was glowing with a faint blue chakra. A swift horizontal cut, targeting Leon's neck.
Leon turned toward him. His eyes tracked the sword clearly. Then he raised his hand, catching the chakra-enhanced sword with the same ease. The leader was shocked. "Impossible! Even with chakra reinforcement—"
A punch. Leon's left punch collided directly with the leader's face. The strongest leader among them, a high-level fighter, flew backward twenty meters, colliding with three consecutive trees before falling unconscious. Their leader had fallen.
The remaining warriors stopped completely. No one dared to move. Leon looked at the remaining ones with a wide smile. "Who is next?"
No one moved. Some of them began to tremble visibly. Leon sighed. "Fine, let's end this."
He rushed forward once again. One by one, the remaining warriors fell. Some tried to resist; some tried to flee. It made no difference. The result was the same. Rapid, precise, devastating punches and kicks. Every strike broke bones and caused intense pain, but did not kill. Although his strikes were heavy, he controlled his power with precision. He breaks, but does not kill. Just as he was asked.
Everything ended in moments. Twenty warriors—all of them on the ground now. Some were completely unconscious. Some were conscious but writhing in intense pain from fractures in their legs, arms, and ribs. No one was capable of fighting. No one was even capable of standing.
Leon looked around and nodded with satisfaction. "Done. All of them are alive, even if I went a bit overboard."
Dan stepped forward slowly, looking at the fallen people on the ground all around him. He raised his head and looked directly at Leon standing in the center. He gave a small, satisfied smile. He spoke in a calm but clear voice: "Even though you went a bit overboard, you controlled your savage nature. Well done, my son."
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