The blade pushed open the iron door less than three centimeters.
Ron's magma orb had already slipped from his grasp.
The 1800-degree lava slammed into the blade in the crack, softening, bending, and dripping into molten iron within 0.2 seconds. A muffled groan came from outside the crack, followed by the sound of the blade slipping from his hand.
"Frank, front door. Jack, back door." Ron's commands were muffled, three words at a time, without any extra syllables.
"Jessica, into the inner room, lock the partition." Frank had completed his full beast transformation. His gray wolf legs shattered the concrete debris on the ground, and he leaped to the front of the iron door, his back arched, claws digging into the ground.
Jack retreated to the corner of the back door passage, pistol level, muzzle pointed at the darkness. A faint gray sheen—Armament Haki—was visible on his right fist, barely enough to last five seconds.
Jessica was shoved into the inner room by Frank. The partition was a structure of two steel plates sandwiching concrete, welded by Frank three days ago. She didn't argue, but pulled the partition up, and the latch clicked down.
Ron looked up.
The ceiling.
His Observation Haki penetrated the concrete layer, detecting seven signals simultaneously pressing down from the rooftop direction. Six signals were climbing upwards from three directions in the underground pipes. Ten remained outside the main entrance.
Twenty-three. A three-pronged attack.
"Remember, they're ninjas, not gangsters." Ron's right hand turned to magma, his left hand hardened with Armament Haki to its limit. "Every strike is deadly, the toxins are bizarre."
The iron door exploded.
It wasn't smashed open. Six short swords simultaneously plunged into the hinges of the door panel, precisely severing the three connection points. The entire iron door collapsed inwards, crashing to the ground, raising a cloud of dust.
Six black figures emerged from the dust.
No footsteps. Cloth shoes stepped on the iron door panel, even the metallic resonance was neutralized by the way they landed. Six short knives, from six different angles, simultaneously thrust at Frank.
Frank didn't retreat.
The gray wolf's forepaws, gleaming with Armament Haki, swept out. The first ninja's knife struck the wolf's claw, the blade snapping in two. Before the broken metal even hit the ground, the wolf's claw slammed into his chest. The muffled thud of shattering ribs was mostly absorbed by his flesh, and the ninja was sent flying, his back crashing through the plasterboard wall next to the doorframe.
The second ninja slashed in from Frank's right, his knife aimed straight for the back of his neck.
Frank's jaws snapped open, his canines biting into the blade. The metal scraped against the five-centimeter-long canines with a piercing sound. He jerked his head, throwing himself and the knife away. The ninja's wrist cracked under the centrifugal force, the knife slipping from his grasp, and he slammed into an ammunition box, denting the metal in a human shape.
The third ninja didn't attack head-on.
He slipped through the gap left by the second ninja's fall, tossing a black sphere the size of a thumb into his left hand. The sphere exploded half a meter in front of Frank's nose.
It wasn't a flashbang.
A thick cloud of black smoke instantly filled the main entrance area. The smoke carried a pungent chemical odor—capsaicin, sulfides, and a sweet, cloying component Frank had never smelled before.
Frank's sense of smell overloaded the moment he came into contact with the smoke.
A sharp burning sensation shot through his nasal mucosa, and all olfactory information flooded his brain like a jumbled mess. He sneezed, pawed at the ground twice, and his vertical pupils contracted sharply.
His sense of smell was shut down.
His night vision was still there. But the density of the smoke reduced visible light to its limit; his vertical pupils could only catch blurry outlines.
Three ninjas simultaneously pounced from the smoke.
Frank deactivated his olfactory dependence.
His paws pressed into the ground, and Armament Haki seeped from his claws into the concrete floor. A beginner-level Armament Haki perception range was less than two meters, but it was enough. Within two meters, the pressure of every pair of cloth shoes stomping down, the vibration frequency of every short knife cutting through the air, all traveled back to his paw pads through the ground.
The first slash came from the left. Frank sidestepped, his wolf-like body gliding along the ground, his hind legs kicking out, striking the ninja's knee. The knee bent backward, and the ninja fell silently to the ground.
The second slash came down from above. Frank braced himself with his front paws, his entire body springing up, his beastly snout slamming into the ninja's face. The skull caved in from the impact of the wolf's head, and the ninja fell backward.
The third slash—the tip of the blade grazed Frank's right forearm.
The wound wasn't deep, just a cut. But the black substance coated on the blade seeped into the flesh the instant it touched.
A cold, numbing sensation ran through Frank's right forearm. The skin around the wound rapidly blackened, the black spreading upwards along the veins, expanding five centimeters in three seconds.
He didn't stop.
Frank's left claw shattered the third ninja's collarbone, then he bit the fourth's shoulder and flung him away. The fifth and sixth tried to retreat from the edge of the smoke, but Frank's hind legs pushed off the ground, his gray figure disappearing through the smoke, both claws striking down simultaneously.
Six. All down.
Frank retreated to the inside of the iron gate, the blackening of his right forearm spreading to his elbow. He glanced down, silent.
From the back door, a gunshot rang out.
Jack's first shot struck the wall at the corner of the passage, the bullet embedding itself in the concrete, sparks flying. His hand trembled—not from fear, but from the adrenaline pushing the serum's side effects to a breaking point.
Four black-clad ninjas surged from the darkness deep within the passage.
The first ninja's dagger slashed down towards Jack's abdomen. Jack's reflexes saved him—his serum-enhanced nerve conduction was three times faster than normal; his waist twisted before the blade touched his shirt, the blade grazing his side, slicing through the skin.
Jack's left fist lashed out.
The gray sheen on the fist flashed for a moment upon contact with the ninja's chest. The ninja's sternum cracked, and he was slammed against the corridor wall, sliding down and remaining motionless.
A second ninja fell through a gap in the ceiling pipes, his short knife aimed straight for Jack's nape.
Jack didn't have time to turn. His right hand still held the gun, muzzle pointing backward, and he pulled the trigger, relying on his serum-enhanced spatial awareness. The bullet flew from the barrel, missing the ninja, but the muzzle flash and shockwave forced the ninja to veer off course.
The knife tip pierced Jack's left shoulder, penetrating two centimeters.
Jack grunted, his left hand gripping the ninja's wrist and pulling him down. The ninja's body was thrown off balance by Jack's three times-strength arm, and Jack's right knee slammed into the ninja's temple.
He fell.
The third and fourth pounced simultaneously. Jack's left shoulder was bleeding, but the serum's regenerative abilities had been activated—the muscle fibers at the wound's edge were visibly contracting and healing. He tucked his gun into his belt and met the attack with both fists.
Thirty seconds. Two ninjas lay dead in the passageway. Jack leaned against the wall, a wound on his chest and another on his left shoulder, both healing. The grey sheen on his fists was a shade brighter than when the fight had begun.
Rooftop and underground pipes.
Ron alone.
Lava poured into the pipe entrance beneath his feet with his left hand. Lava at 1200 degrees Celsius cascaded down the drainage network, the cast iron walls of the pipes turning red-hot and softening under the intense heat. The frantic climbing sounds from inside the pipes abruptly stopped—six ninjas were forced to abandon their ascent and retreat to the side pipes.
Ron didn't pursue. The lava blocked three pipe exits, sealing off the underground direction.
Rooftop.
Seven ninjas jumped down from the gaps in the building above the safe house, landing on the open ground in front of Ron.
Six of them shared the same aura as the previous black-clad ninjas.
The seventh was different.
Tall and thin, he was half a head taller than the other ninjas. The whites of his eyes, visible beneath his mask, had a faint grayish tinge—a trait of iris mutation resulting from the serum injection. He held a short sword in each hand, the blades radiating a purplish-black light.
Dark power.
The six ordinary ninjas moved first. Three from the front, three from behind. The trajectories of the short swords were clearly visible in his Observation Haki.
Ron hardened his right arm with Armament Haki and punched the first ninja's short sword. The sword broke, and the residual force of his fist struck the ninja's chest, sending him flying. A second punch swept across, a third slammed down. All three ninjas in front fell to the ground within two seconds.
Three more short swords simultaneously thrust from behind. Ron turned, his right arm sweeping across, the hardness of his Armament Haki deflecting all three blades. Three elbow strikes followed, and the three ninjas fell.
Six were gone.
The tall, thin ninja didn't move. He stood still, twin swords crossed in front of his chest, a purplish-black light flowing across their blades.
He moved.
His speed was more than twice that of the other ninjas. The serum-enhanced muscle power combined with his ninja agility left three afterimages in Ron's Observation Haki.
Right sword slashed diagonally. Ron raised his arm to block.
The blade struck the Armament Haki-hardened forearm, the purplish-black light exploding at the point of contact. A corrosive force seeped along the blade into the surface of the Armament Haki.
A slight tingling sensation ran through Ron's forearm. The hardness of the Armament Haki decreased by one-tenth at the point of contact.
The left sword followed closely, slashing upwards from below. Ron stepped back half a step, the tip of the sword grazing the Armament Haki on his abdomen, leaving a shallow white mark.
The toxin was corroding his Haki.
Ron didn't hesitate any longer.
His right hand opened, fingers together, palm aimed at the purplish-black ninja's chest.
One meter and two inches apart.
Flowing Sakura.
Armament Haki emanated from his palm, not as an outward shockwave, but as an internal, penetrating vibration. Nothing was visible to the naked eye as it shot from Ron's palm. Yet the vibration pierced the skin, muscles, and ribs of the tall, thin ninja, striking directly at his heart.
The tall, thin ninja's body froze.
He looked down at his perfectly intact chest. No wounds, no bruises, no signs of external injury.
But his heart stopped.
Two short swords slipped from his hands, their tips embedding themselves in the concrete floor, the purplish-black light extinguished. The tall, thin ninja's knees buckled, his body lurched forward, and he fell face down to the ground.
The remaining ninjas—the six forced back from the pipes—vaulted out of the side window of the building, attempting to escape.
Ron raised his left hand.
"Inugami Crimson Lotus." Six magma projectiles flew from his hand, their trajectories forking in the air, precisely tracking the six fleeing figures. They hit. The six ninjas fell to the ground, their clothes ablaze, rolling on the floor.
Ron walked over and took them in one by one.
[Successfully detained x7. Impel Down Level 1. Justice Points +1400.] Inside the safe house, Frank leaned against the wall. The blackening on his right forearm had spread to the middle of his upper arm; the half-beast gray fur had all fallen off in the blackened area, revealing the purplish skin beneath.
Ron crouched down, a trickle of magma seeping from his right index finger.
"Bite it." Frank stuffed a piece of leather strap into his mouth.
Ron's fingertip touched the edge of the wound on Frank's right arm. The temperature of the magma was precisely controlled at four hundred degrees—enough to burn away the remaining toxins of dark power, but not to carbonize muscle tissue.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air. Frank's canines pierced the strap, but he didn't utter a sound.
The blackening began to fade from his upper arm, receding along the veins, finally being completely burned away at the four-hundred-degree heat at the wound.
Frank spat out the strap and moved his right arm.
"He can still move." Jack emerged from the back doorway, his left shoulder wound completely healed, leaving only a pale pink patch of new skin. The gray sheen on his fist hadn't faded.
[Jack Reynolds Armament Haki Beginner Progress +30%. Current Progress: 45%.] Ron walked to the tall, thin ninja's corpse. Before taking him into custody, he checked the collar.
Next to the Hand's black mark, a new pattern had appeared.
A coiled snake with six eyes on its head.
Hydra.
Frank leaned closer, his vertical pupils fixed on the pattern for two seconds. Then his nostrils twitched.
He crouched down, bringing his nose close to the tall, thin ninja's neck, sniffing for three seconds.
Frank stood up and turned to look at Jack.
He walked back to Jack, bringing his nose close to Jack's right arm—the spot where the WS-07 number was wrapped in gauze.
"Same." Ron turned his head away.
"The serum." Frank's vertical pupils contracted into two golden lines. "This ninja smells of the Super Soldier Serum. Exactly the same as Jack's."
Jack's face paled.
Ron looked down at the Hydra serpent symbol on the ground. The Hand ninja had been injected with the Super Soldier Serum. Twenty-three had come tonight, at least one of them a serum-enhanced individual.
How many of Venom's men were left?
He closed his eyes, his Observation Haki spreading outwards.
Five hundred meters. Six hundred meters. Seven hundred meters.
At the very edge of his perception range—beyond eight hundred meters—an aura lingered for 0.3 seconds.
Then it vanished.
That aura showed no aggressive fluctuations. It was simply "seeing."
Darkness. Cold. Unfathomable depths.
Ron opened his eyes.
"These twenty-three tonight—" He turned the tall, thin ninja's body over; a line of tiny Sanskrit characters was engraved on the scabbard of the purplish-black dagger.
"Just a test."