"You killed so many of my men… You can be buried with them!"
The Third Tsuchikage's voice echoed coldly across the shattered street. He had planned to capture Lock alive before, but after witnessing the massacre of his shinobi, that mercy was gone. His fury burned like magma beneath the earth.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
The old Kage clasped his hands together, forming a complex seal. A small white cube of energy appeared between his palms, expanding in an instant into a massive geometric field that swallowed Lock whole.
"Disappear… from this world."
His voice was like stone grinding against steel. A blinding white light erupted, the space within the cube breaking down into pure nothingness. Dust Release—an art that disintegrated everything it touched into atoms. Few ever survived it.
When the light finally faded, the Third Tsuchikage raised his head with grim satisfaction.
"So what if you're a genius from Konoha? Come to my village and you'll still die here."
"Lord Tsuchikage! His chakra—it's still there! North side!"
The triumphant smirk froze on his lips. His eyes narrowed, and his senses expanded. The faint pulse of chakra—undeniably Lock's—was several hundred meters away.
"Chase him! Don't let him get away!"
Dozens of Iwa-nin leapt into pursuit, while sensory units spread out across the rooftops.
Lock exhaled sharply inside a dim, half-collapsed house.
"That was… too close."
If his blink technique hadn't come off cooldown in time, he'd have been vaporized. Dust Release wasn't something he could ever afford to test twice.
He glanced around—and froze. A mother and her young daughter were huddled in a corner, trembling. Their terrified eyes met his.
Lock sighed and looked away. He had no intention of using civilians as shields.
"That's not how shinobi of Konoha fight," he muttered under his breath.
With a crash, he burst through the roof and vanished into the night sky. But even as he moved, chakra signatures closed in from all sides. Iwa-nin—dozens of them.
"Chakra reserves are still fine," he thought, sprinting across the rooftops. "But if I get dragged into a full fight, I'm done."
The blink technique wasn't something he could use in the middle of a melee—it needed precision, not chaos. He couldn't risk being hit even once while phasing.
"Good thing I planned for this."
Lock's hand brushed over a pouch on his belt. Thin smoke bombs—custom-made—sat inside, ready for use.
Even surrounded, his expression stayed calm. This was Iwagakure; he doubted they'd risk destruction just to catch him.
He inhaled, steadying his breathing. The past few years had sharpened his instincts beyond belief—each battle forced him to evolve, not through some mystical "system," but sheer survival and adaptability.
"Boy," came the gravelly voice from above, "you've got some skill—to escape my Dust Release."
The Tsuchikage floated overhead, eyes sharp but curious. Even he couldn't deny what he'd just seen.
Lock smirked.
"If I didn't have any tricks, I wouldn't dare show up in front of the great Tsuchikage. Still… your Dust Release almost got me."
"Then why stop running?" the old man asked, eyes narrowing.
"Just catching my breath," Lock replied coolly. "You've had your turn. I'll move when I'm ready."
"If you want to rest, I'll make sure it's permanent."
The Tsuchikage's expression hardened. His hand dropped sharply—
"Attack!"
Dozens of Iwa-nin unleashed jutsu at once, fire and earth converging on Lock's position.
"This isn't your call anymore," Lock said under his breath, his tone calm—almost amused.
"My reinforcements have already arrived."
Before the first jutsu struck, his form flickered—and vanished completely.
"Where did he go?!"
"Find his chakra signature—quick!"
The sensor-nin focused, brows furrowed.
Then, confusion spread through their ranks.
"…No chakra. Nothing. He's gone."
"Spread out! Stay alert!" the Tsuchikage barked, but even as he spoke, realization dawned.
Lock wasn't hiding.
He had truly disappeared.
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