The flickering torches cast long, twisting shadows over the auction house. The air was thick with smoke and sweat, a suffocating weight that clung to Ren's skin. Even with the mercenaries taken out, the true enemy still lurked in the darkness.
Hayate's voice was calm but firm. "We've lost our cover. No need to hide anymore."
Ren nodded, still feeling the sting in his ribs from his earlier fight. He had gotten careless, but now he had a chance to fix it.
"The slavers were just hired muscle," Hayate continued, his gaze scanning the auction floor. "The real threat is controlling this place from behind the scenes."
Ren's jaw tightened. "The Genjutsu user."
Hayate gave a short nod. "And he's still here."
They both turned their attention to the center of the auction house, where the villagers stood on the stage, silent and obedient despite their chains.
Ren swallowed hard. He had seen them up close. Their eyes weren't full of fear. They weren't even trying to resist.
Someone had convinced them that this was normal.
Someone had twisted their perception so deeply that they had walked willingly into captivity.
Hayate crossed his arms. "If we disrupt the auction, we'll force him to react."
Ren frowned. "How? He's not just going to step out and introduce himself."
Hayate gave him a sharp look. "You tell me."
Ren blinked. He's testing me again.
He forced himself to think. We need to lure him out.
His eyes flicked up to the torches and lanterns strung across the beams. He smirked. I have an idea.
Ren turned to his grandfather. "I'll take out the lights. Cause some chaos. He'll be forced to adjust his Genjutsu on the fly."
Hayate raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And when he does, he'll expose himself. Even for a second."
For the first time tonight, Hayate looked genuinely impressed.
Ren felt a small surge of pride but pushed it down. Time to execute.
Ren melted into the shadows, moving up toward the wooden rafters, his kunai and shuriken in hand. Below, the auctioneer continued his chant, oblivious to what was coming.
The real enemy was likely nearby, watching everything unfold. He needed to force him out.
Ren took a slow breath.
No wasted movement.
His first shuriken cut through a torch chain, sending the lantern crashing into the wooden stage. Flames burst out, licking at the edges of the wooden planks.
The second shuriken sliced through a row of candles, plunging half the room into darkness.
Shouts erupted. The auction house fell into chaos.
The bidders panicked, scrambling away from the fire. The inside guards drew their weapons, looking for the source of the attack.
But Ren wasn't paying attention to them.
He was watching the villagers.
And then he saw it.
A single figure in the shadows flinched.
Found you.
Ren didn't hesitate. He jumped down from the rafters, landing lightly behind the cloaked man.
"You're the one pulling the strings."
The man turned slowly, and Ren finally saw his face.
Tall. Pale. Silver-white hair falling over sharp, unreadable eyes. A long, dark cloak draped over his form, giving him an eerie, almost ghostlike presence.
But what struck Ren the most was his expression.
For the first time, the enemy looked genuinely surprised.
A slow smirk pulled at his lips, but his eyes betrayed him—he hadn't expected to be confronted by a child.
"A kid?" the man muttered, tilting his head slightly. "No… not just a kid." His gaze sharpened, scanning Ren up and down. "You're trained."
Ren's heart pounded, but he didn't move. He held his stance firm, kunai in hand. He knew if he moved first, he'd lose.
The man studied him for another second before chuckling. "This is unexpected. And here I thought I'd be dealing with some nameless bounty hunter."
Ren exhaled slowly. He had to stay in control. If this guy was reacting, it meant Ren had already thrown him off balance.
But then, something shifted in the man's eyes.
"You're fast," he said, his smirk widening. "And clever, too. But tell me, kid…"
The air felt heavier suddenly.
"…do you really think you can fight a real ninja?"
The words sent a shiver through Ren's body.
For all his training, for all his confidence… there was something different about standing in front of a real shinobi.
This wasn't training with Hayate. This wasn't throwing shuriken at a tree or sparring against someone who held back.
The way the man carried himself—the way his voice barely rose, yet filled the space with pressure—told Ren everything he needed to know.
This was a killer.
Ren tightened his grip on his kunai, his muscles coiled. He was ready to fight… but was he ready to win?
Then, in a flash, the man moved.
Ren barely had time to react as the figure blurred, appearing right in front of him.
Instinct screamed at him to dodge, but he was a fraction too slow.
A cold hand gripped his wrist.
"You're good," the man murmured, his breath barely above a whisper. "But you're still just a child."
Ren tensed.
Before he could react, a thin whistle cut through the air.
A single senbon pierced the rogue ninja's neck with pinpoint precision. His body stiffened, his grip loosening instantly. His eyes widened for a brief second before his body collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Ren's breath was still caught in his throat when he turned—Hayate stood a few meters away, lowering his hand.
His expression was unreadable for a moment. Then, after a pause, he spoke.
"You didn't panic."
Ren swallowed and nodded. "No."
Hayate stepped closer, his voice calm, but firm.
"Don't be discouraged. This guy was probably already a Chunin-level ninja. Someone with real experience. You're not at that level yet."
Ren clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him. He knew he had done well, but part of him had still wanted to win. To prove himself.
Hayate smirked slightly. "You'll get there."
Ren looked up at him.
Hayate gave a small nod. "You're learning. That's what matters."
Ren exhaled slowly, letting the frustration ease.