A hoarse voice echoed in the dark, sending a chill down Reiji's spine. His short hair bristled straight up.
As the voice faded, a tall figure emerged from the shadows—it was none other than the cult's Divine Emissary, Isamu.
Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. The hood slipped back just enough to reveal his scar-riddled, monstrous face, sinister and chilling.
"Seriously?! What are you, a bloodhound? I ran this far and you still tracked me down?!"
Isamu didn't bother responding. He hadn't paid much attention to this so-called immortal before, but now his curiosity was piqued. He asked in a low voice:
"Immortal one, Reiji-kun.
I'm curious. You were brainwashed—so what made you suddenly decide to flee the base?"
"Ah, well... that's a long story! You sure you wanna hear it?"
"I'm sure." Isamu gave a faint nod beneath his hood. He didn't mind wasting a little time. To him, Reiji posed no threat aside from his immortality—he was a Jōnin, after all.
Seeing that Isamu wasn't rushing to grab him but instead treating this like a game of cat and mouse, Reiji's mind stirred with a plan. Keeping his expression steady, he began calmly.
"There are too many reasons to list.
First off—food. I'm not picky, but eating nothing but military ration pills every single meal? My stomach couldn't take it. You have no idea how bad my constipation's been lately. Every time I take a dump, it comes with bleeding.
Speaking of dumps, our base's toilets are awful. I'm not asking for bidets or anything, but even the toilet paper—"
Reiji clutched his rear with a pained face.
"—the toilet paper's so rough, it scrapes my hemorrhoids open every damn time!"
As Reiji rambled on, the corner of Isamu's mouth twitched uncontrollably beneath his hood.
He'd expected this so-called immortal to talk about freedom, dreams, maybe even bonds. Instead, the guy couldn't go three sentences without mentioning his ass. Crude didn't even begin to describe him—this was vulgarity incarnate.
Come on, you're immortal! You're complaining about hemorrhoids? For all we know, your wounds probably heal the second you pull up your pants! Dammit, do you even care how this sounds to us normal people?!
!!!
Isamu froze for a second. His scarred face twisted like he was wearing a mask of agony.
Dammit... he played me. It's all those ridiculous complaints—he distracted me before I realized it! No wonder Ren warned me before I left: "If you find the immortal, don't talk. Just capture him."
Oblivious to Isamu's inner turmoil, Reiji kept ranting.
"And another thing—we seriously need to fix the drinking water!
It tastes like chalk. I'm convinced everyone's yellow teeth come from drinking that unfiltered hard water!"
"That's enough!" Isamu growled, cutting him off before he could launch into another monologue. Reiji was clearly on a roll, and at this rate, he'd keep talking until the end of time.
"Save it for the road. We're going back now."
As the low rasp of his voice echoed through the alley, the air grew tense and suffocating. Bathed in that pressure, Isamu finally felt like himself again.
Reiji just had that kind of presence—a walking disruption. Isamu feared if he said too much, he'd start arguing with him and ruin the terrifying image he'd worked so hard to cultivate.
"No!" Reiji shook his head like a rattling toy.
Even if he knew he couldn't fight back, he still had to put up a front.
"That's not your decision to make!"
Before he finished speaking, Isamu whipped out a kunai and hurled it at Reiji's feet with blinding speed—far faster than the average eye could follow.
But Reiji wasn't the same helpless kid who had first crossed over. No exaggeration—his physical strength had grown more than tenfold.
And along with it, his dynamic vision had sharpened dramatically.
The moment Isamu made a move, Reiji reacted. He kicked off the ground, blasting forward like a gust of wind, shooting toward the alley's exit.
He was gambling that Isamu wouldn't let him make it to the street—wouldn't risk him vanishing into a crowd.
He guessed right.
At the mouth of the alley, a clone of Isamu had already appeared, kunai in hand, ready to block the way.
"It's useless!" Reiji charged forward without slowing, like a raging bull, forming hand seals as he moved.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
His calm voice rang out, instantly making Isamu's brow furrow.
Impossible—how does this guy know how to form hand seals, let alone use ninjutsu?
At the mouth of the alley, the clone raised a kunai defensively and leapt high into the air. It looked like Isamu was ready to abandon the clone and intercept Reiji himself.
Reiji finished a few hand seals, puffed up his chest, and spat toward the airborne clone.
At that moment, the real Isamu—behind Reiji—realized he'd been duped.
Reiji's hand movements looked convincing, but the seals had nothing to do with the Great Fireball Technique. Even through the shadows of the alley, where he could barely make out the shapes, Isamu could tell Reiji was just waving his hands around randomly.
"You bastard freak, are you trying to die?!"
Infuriated after falling for it again, Isamu fumed. Damn it! That little punk tricked him one more time.
But honestly, it wasn't entirely his fault. Guys like Reiji—completely lacking in martial honor—were a rarity in the ninja world.
Normally, when ninjas fought, they'd either conceal their ninjutsu and strike with surprise or engage with strength and strategy head-on.
But Reiji? No speed, no extraordinary chakra. All he relied on was bluffing—completely shameless.
"Undying freak, now you've really pissed me off!"
A cold voice came from behind him.
"I was going to bring you back in one piece. Now, I'm going to cut off your limbs and drag you all the way home."
"Earth Release: Earth Spear!"
Hearing this, Reiji's heart clenched. His clone had been baited into the air—so this jutsu had to be from the real body!
The alley's exit was right ahead. Reiji reacted on instinct, diving forward. If he could just get out of the pitch-black alley, he might still have a shot.
But then, a sudden force hit his feet from below. The next moment, a weightless sensation swept over him. When he came to, his line of sight was level with the ground—yet the expected earth spike never came.
"Heh, how's it feel to get tricked?"
In his field of view, a pair of large feet landed. Isamu stood above him, forming seals, eyes gleaming with mockery as he looked down.
Then he crouched, slowly pulling a sharp kunai from his ninja pouch and lightly slapping Reiji's face with it in disdain.
Reiji sighed, looking completely unbothered by being caught. He stared up at Isamu with innocent eyes.
"Divine Emissary-sama, what jutsu was that?"
"No harm in telling you. It's Earth Release: Double Suicide Decapitation Technique."
Reiji nodded at the answer, then pressed on.
"Emissary, I mean… I'm caught anyway. I probably won't get another chance to escape, right? Could you grant me a tiny little request?"
Feeling he had the upper hand, Isamu smirked cruelly and shook his head coldly.
"Reiji, the only thing you can ask for is that I make it quick when I chop you into pieces."
"No, no, no." Reiji, buried up to his neck, shook his head strenuously like the impending bloodbath didn't faze him one bit.
"That's not my request, Divine Emissary-sama. I just want to know—after I ran so far, how did you even find me?"
"Heh..." Isamu's eyes drifted downward instinctively toward Reiji's chest—then he quickly looked away, pretending nothing had happened.
But Reiji caught the movement.
In an instant, a memory surged back.
He remembered being strapped down in the lab at the base. Heavy iron chains locked his limbs, and a rare black burlap sack covered his head.
Then, pain—his chest had been split open without mercy, a searing agony in his heart, like someone had jammed a shovel into it.
Back then, he'd assumed it was just another routine experiment. But thinking back now… maybe they did something to his heart!
Considering how this twisted group never bothered hiding their experiments on his body, it made sense.
And in the ninja world, bizarre jutsu and freakish curses were anything but rare...
"It's my heart, isn't it?"
"Reiji, you're quite sharp." A cruel smile curled at the corner of Isamu's mouth.
"But you're too late. Once we get back, I'm going to plant this curse mark on every single bone in your body."
Faced with such inhuman cruelty, Reiji showed no reaction. His eyes slowly closed, as if ready to accept execution.
Seeing him fall silent, Isamu's expression twisted.
What he had imagined—Reiji's desperate struggle, his pathetic begging, his cries and tears—none of it happened.
He knew all too well how much Reiji valued his freedom. Otherwise, why would he have gone to such lengths to plan his escape at just the right moment?
That thought only enraged Isamu further. He yanked Reiji's hair violently and slapped him across the face with a rough, frenzied hand.
"You damn brat, why aren't you fighting back?! Scream! Maybe someone will come watch the show! Maybe they'll even save you!"
Even as Reiji's face swelled from the blows, he remained completely unresponsive. That only made Isamu feel like he was punching a pillow—no resistance, no satisfaction—and his fury boiled over.
"You little bastard, I'm going to gouge your eyes out and feed them to the dogs!"
With that, Isamu's madness escalated. His coarse hand twisted into a claw, and he brutally tore at Reiji's eyelids, grabbing for his eyes.