NOVEL WEB Chapter 11: A Body in the River
By the time we got our "mission scroll," I had already convinced myself it was going to be another idiotic D-rank. Maybe we'd be chasing runaway cats again or measuring the growth rate of moss on training logs or something equally soul-killing. But when Arata-sensei unrolled the scroll and his eyebrows lifted with the subtle dread of a man realizing he might have to do actual work, I felt the tiniest flicker of curiosity.
"Alright," he said, rubbing his chin as his eyes scanned the parchment. "Environmental mapping. Forest region east of the Senka River. We're checking for water obstruction, recent landslides, anything that might mess with the farmland irrigation system near the south road."
I blinked. "So… tree-watching."
"It's reconnaissance," Arata corrected. "You'll take notes. I'll handle the sensor sweep. Should be safe. But be alert anyway—there was some bandit activity two weeks ago near the border."
"Bandits?" Jun perked up, silver hair shimmering under the sunlight as he shifted with a faint, hopeful smile. "You mean like… with swords?"
Ren let out a low groan from under her hood, arms crossed. "We're not going to fight anyone, Jun. This is a glorified hike with clipboards."
"I wasn't complaining." Jun grinned, then turned to me. "What about you, Alex? You like hiking? You seem like a forest guy. Kinda lost. Kinda confused. Fits the aesthetic."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "I'll be sure to trip on a root and die a symbolic death."
My system chimed in at that exact moment, as if summoned by sarcasm:
Mission Acquired!
Recommended Fusion: "Moss + Water + Insect Bites" → Swamp Clone (Sticky, Itchy, Biodegradable)
Stability: 2/10 | Smell: 10/10
I dismissed the prompt before it could finish rendering the thumbnail. The last time I tried one of its "biodegradable" fusions, I nearly threw up from the smell of my own eyebrows catching fire.
We set out before noon, and the forest was as peaceful as it was boring. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in gentle shafts, and a warm breeze carried the smell of damp bark and pollen. Birds chirped, Ren sulked, Jun tried to spot imaginary enemies from behind bushes, and I mostly just walked in silence, pretending I wasn't being eaten alive by leaf-shaped bugs with a vendetta against foreign blood types.
After a couple of hours, Arata called for a break by a shallow bend in the river. He crouched, fingertips brushing the dirt, clearly focusing his chakra outward to sweep for signatures.
Jun tossed a rock into the water and watched it skip. "So how long do we do this?"
"Till sunset or until sensei finds something interesting," Ren muttered, crouched by a boulder and scribbling notes on a scroll. "Which probably means we're stuck until something tries to eat us."
"Something tries to eat us, and then we're allowed to leave?" I asked. "That's the bar now?"
"Welcome to shinobi work," Arata said over his shoulder. "If you want glory, go back in time and be born to a clan with a god complex."
I chuckled. That was actually funny. Then I felt the mood change.
Subtle. Like a breath catching. A tension in the air that wasn't there before. Arata stood slowly, shoulders tight, eyes narrowing toward the far trees on the other side of the river. He didn't speak. He just raised a hand.
We all fell silent.
At first, I thought it was an animal. Maybe a big one. A bear or a wild boar. But then I saw the drag marks in the mud near the river's edge. And something sticking out from under the reeds.
It was a hand.
Pale. Slack. Fingers curled toward the water.
"Oh," Jun whispered, and his voice cracked. "That's a—"
"Don't move," Arata said.
He stepped forward, slowly, and gently parted the reeds with a kunai. What lay underneath didn't even look like a person at first. The face was caved in, jaw broken, eyes wide and glassy with coagulated blood across the brow. His flak jacket was torn, slashed with something sharp and heavy. His hitai-ate glinted in the sun.
A Leaf shinobi.
A chūnin.
Fresh kill.
I wanted to speak, to make a joke, to do anything that could make this stop feeling real—but nothing came out. I couldn't even hear my System. It was just quiet. Like even it knew better.
Then Arata's voice dropped to something I'd never heard before.
"Eyes up. We're being watched."
None of us argued. We didn't speak. We just started backing up, away from the river. Jun's hands trembled as he reached for a kunai. Ren had gone pale. Arata turned slowly, his body tense like a wound-up spring, and he whispered something I barely caught.
"Run."
The next instant, a blur shot out from the trees—a shape covered in ragged cloth and black steel, a mask over his face and twin hooked blades gleaming in each hand. Arata intercepted him mid-air with a flurry of shuriken, but the man twisted like smoke and came down hard. The ground exploded with chakra and force.
The rest of us scattered as the two clashed, steel ringing out in sharp, echoing bursts.
Arata was fast. Faster than I'd ever seen him move in training. He dodged the first strike, parried the second, then spun into a leaping kick that knocked the masked man back a few steps. But the enemy didn't stagger. He laughed.
Actually laughed.
And then moved faster.
The second exchange was brutal. Arata tried to pull us back, told us to flee, but the man was already inside his guard. Blood sprayed. A scream tore out. And then the sound that would never leave me: a thick, wet crunch of spine and bone. Arata fell to his knees, a gurgle escaping his throat. His body collapsed sideways into the mud, unmoving.
Jun screamed. Ren tried to form hand signs. The enemy didn't wait. He blurred forward.
Ren's head hit the ground before she could finish the sign. Jun tried to run.
I watched him die with a kunai through the back.
I didn't move. I couldn't. Something inside me fractured. I remember hearing my own heartbeat, loud and desperate in my ears. My hands were shaking. My legs refused to work.
System Instinct Override Initiated.
Survival Threshold Breached. Environmental Catalysis Engaged.
Fusion Detected: "Fear + Blood + Chakra + Grief"
Result: "Cataclysm Echo"
Stability: 1/10
Warning: Body Integrity at Risk. Proceeding.
I didn't get to say yes.
The world went white.
Then everything moved on its own. My muscles screamed. My breath vanished. My body surged forward, propelled by something ancient and furious, my arms flickering with raw chakra I didn't summon, my eyes turned blank—white and glowing. The enemy turned toward me, surprised, and for a moment I felt nothing. No rage. No sadness. No fear.
Just… silence.
And then the technique activated.
A pulse of chakra erupted from my skin, laced with something unnatural—like sound waves and lightning fused into a living scream. The masked man tried to dodge, but the pulse twisted mid-air like a guided missile and struck him in the chest. His body shattered backward, trees splintered behind him, the ground ripped upward as though reality itself had rejected his presence.
I don't remember if he screamed. I only remember collapsing, my arms twisted at wrong angles, blood pouring from my mouth, and then darkness crashing down over my eyes like a coffin lid.
I woke up in a white bed with clean sheets and a ceiling I didn't recognize.
The hospital.
For a moment, I didn't know why I was there. Everything felt foggy, like a half-remembered dream. But the moment I tried to sit up, the pain came—raw, deep, and real—and with it, the memories.
The forest.
The body in the reeds.
Jun. Ren. Arata.
Dead.
I felt it all slam into me like a tidal wave, crashing through my ribs and up into my skull. My stomach turned violently. I reached over the edge of the bed and vomited into a plastic bin. My hands shook uncontrollably. My chest was tightening. Breathing became impossible. Every second felt like drowning.
I had killed someone.
Not in theory. Not in training. I had watched someone die because I couldn't stop it. I had watched my team die, and then I had killed a man with power I didn't understand using a body that wasn't fully mine.
I tried to breathe. Failed. Tried again. My lungs refused to work. My vision blurred. Alarms started beeping. Footsteps rushed in. Hands grabbed my shoulders, pushing me down, voices yelling for a sedative.
But all I could think—over and over—was this:
This isn't a game.
This is a world built on death.
And I was just starting to understand what that meant.