Erza picked up the sword carefully, the weight of it surprising her.
"Onii-san, I've never seen you use this sword before," she said, curiosity in her voice.
(Image in Comnt area.)
Shanks stepped forward and grasped the hilt of the weapon. With a sharp pull, he unsheathed the blade in a clean motion, leaving the empty scabbard still resting in Erza's hands.
"This is a treasured sword," Shanks said, his voice low and steady. "My father kept it safe for a very long ti."
Erza nodded silently, understanding that their family's history ran deeper than she had realized. If this sword had once belonged to Uncle Tatsuya, then it was more than just a weapon—it was a legacy. She wisely chose not to ask any more questions.
anwhile, the team leader of the masked ninjas barked out orders to the seven remaining standing mbers.
"Everyone, calm down and focus!" he shouted. "You can't let a little ntal pressure break you!"
His words rang out clearly, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. Though the Conqueror's Haki still weighed heavily on them, the masked ninjas managed to steady themselves, their bodies stiff but no longer paralyzed.
Shanks observed the situation carefully. He knew he had less than thirty seconds before the masked ninjas who had fainted under the force of his Conqueror's Haki would begin to regain consciousness.
If they woke up too soon, the fight would beco far more difficult than he wanted—and right now, he couldn't afford to let that happen.
Worse yet, maintaining the Conqueror's Haki was rapidly draining his chakra. Even though he was an Uzumaki, blessed with a vast reservoir of chakra, he couldn't afford to waste it carelessly.
There were still too many unknowns ahead, and he would need every ounce of strength for the battles yet to co.
Without wasting another second, Shanks activated his Shanks Movent Technique. His figure blurred, vanishing from sight with an explosive burst of speed.
The masked team leader narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. He had resisted most of the ntal pressure from Shanks' Conqueror's Haki, his focus razor-sharp. Without hesitation, he ford a rapid sequence of hand seals.
"Fire Release: Fire Dragon Fla Bullet!" he roared.
From his mouth, threemassive dragons made entirely of fire burst forth, twisting and roaring as they launched toward Shanks. They ca from three directions—front, left, and right—cutting off his escape paths in a coordinated assault.
The situation didn't look good for Shanks. He quickly assessed his options—either retreat and risk drawing the battle closer to his clan mbers, or face the fire head-on.
Retreating was not an option. If the masked ninjas got any closer to his family, they might take hostages, and Shanks could not allow that.
Without hesitation, he made his decision. He would charge straight through.
But he wasn't reckless. As the roaring fire dragons closed in, Shanks' body began to darken, a hardened sheen spreading over his skin. He was coating himself in Armant Haki, reinforcing his body like living armor.
As the fire dragons closed in from three sides, Shanks moved. With a sharp horizontal slash, he cleaved into the dragon on his right. The sword strike was devastating—cleanly cutting the fiery beast in half. Its form wavered and lost strength, the intense heat fading around him.
Wasting no ti, Shanks dashed forward at blinding speed, tearing through the weakened flas. In a blink, he broke through the fiery wall and appeared directly in front of one of the masked ninjas, his sword already poised to strike.
The masked ninja reacted quickly, raising his short sword to block. Their blades clashed with a sharp, tallic screech.
But the masked ninja was no match for Shanks' raw power. He was imdiately driven back several steps, his footing faltering.
That was all the opening Shanks needed.
In a smooth, lethal motion, Shanks delivered a horizontal slash, his blade slicing cleanly across the masked ninja's diaphragm.
The ninja gasped, staggered—and collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
Another masked ninja appeared behind Shanks, attempting a sneak attack.
But with his Observation Haki active, Shanks had already sensed the ambush. To him, it was as obvious as soone shouting their intentions to his face.
Without even turning, Shanks ducked low, letting the enemy's sword swing harmlessly overhead. In the sa fluid motion, he slashed horizontally, his blade cutting clean through the masked ninja's leg.
The ninja scread in agony, "AHHH!" stumbling forward in pain.
But Shanks gave him no chance to recover. In a swift, rciless strike, he thrust his sword upward, piercing the ninja's throat and ending his life in an instant.
Shanks glanced at the two bodies lying at his feet.
It was the first ti he had ever killed—not just in this world, but even in the life he had lived before transmigrating into the Naruto world.
Yet, strangely, he didn't feel as disturbed as he thought he would.
Perhaps it was the mories of the real Shanks Uzumaki, whose mind he now shared—mories stained with the blood of countless battles, of enemies cut down without hesitation.
Shanks drew a slow, steadying breath, forcing his emotions into check.
Now was not the ti to be distracted. He was still in the middle of a fight—and focus was the difference between life and death.
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