The water droplets, enhanced by Ripple, became the sharpest spears in the world.
The mercenaries and samurai charging at Ryosuke hadn't even realized what happened before their internal organs were pierced through by the droplets.
The pain tortured their nerves. The Ripple flowing within the droplets coursed through their bloodstream, spreading through their entire bodies, stiffening their muscles so completely that they couldn't even move a finger.
The momentum of their charge stopped in an instant.
One by one, they fell from midair, slamming onto the surface of the sea. Like the White Zetsu clone earlier, they didn't sink into the water but crashed heavily upon it.
A bespectacled mercenary, who looked rather scholarly, muttered, "What kind of ability is this…? He's turned the entire sea into a non-Newtonian fluid!"
A samurai beside him frowned, snapped, and cursed, "To hell with your science talk! You really think this is the time for that?!"
The samurai's face was full of panic. Even with a hole through his body, he could clearly feel the Ripple within the water droplet stimulating his life force, as if Ryosuke didn't want him to die just yet.
Why would Ryosuke want to keep them alive?
The answer was obvious.
To feed the fish, of course.
They weren't afraid of dying, but this? This ridiculous, humiliating way to die? That terrified them.
They struggled desperately to stand up. Yet, out of over a thousand people, only a handful managed to overcome the paralysis in their muscles caused by the Ripple.
They were simply too weak.
If they had any real strength, they wouldn't have been sent on a suicide ship in the first place.
"How many can still stand?"
Kitsuchi's deep, powerful voice struck through the chaos of their minds like a heavy hammer, dragging everyone's attention back to the present moment.
Cracks ran across his skin, from which chunks of stone and dust were constantly falling.
Everyone knew Ryosuke possessed a terrifying ability, an ability so strong it rivaled the Fourth Hokage, Namikaze Minato's space-time ninjutsu. Once unleashed, everyone within his sight would be attacked instantly.
But Kitsuchi was a cautious, middle-aged man. Of course, he had taken precautions. Before the battle began, he had used ninjutsu to coat his skin with layers of solid, thick rock armor.
The earlier water spear barrage had all struck that armor, it hadn't truly pierced his flesh.
"Those who can still move, run. Run as far as you can."
Kitsuchi clenched his fists and stood at the front, facing Ryosuke alone. His voice was calm and steady. "Once you escape… don't join any more wars. Just go home."
The mercenaries and samurai stared blankly at Kitsuchi's broad back.
They'd seen betrayal and abandonment more times than they could count. But this, seeing a superior willingly stay behind to face death, just so they could live, that was the first.
"B-Boss…"
Around twenty warriors and mercenaries who could still stand felt their eyes turn red.
Ryosuke watched him. Kitsuchi wasn't being righteous or sentimental toward these subordinates he'd only known for a day or two.
He was simply making the most logical choice.
If he ran, no one would escape, not the fifteen hundred men, not even himself.
But if he stayed and fought Ryosuke, stalling for time, maybe one or two lucky ones could get away and spread word of what had happened here.
The twenty-odd survivors turned and sprinted across the sea.
Kitsuchi lowered his stance, sweat dripping down his clenched palms.
He was ready.
"Come, Ryosuke!"
He didn't know how long he could hold him off, but even one minute could create a sliver of hope in this hopeless situation.
"You have no hope."
Ryosuke's calm voice cut through his thoughts.
And with those words came a spinning iron sphere.
The moment it was thrown, Kitsuchi's body went cold.
It was as if an invisible thread connected him and the sphere.
He couldn't dodge. It would hit him no matter what.
All he could do was swing his rocky fist and strike the spinning sphere head-on.
Bang!
The iron ball collided with his fist, and then crack.
Killer Queen pressed its thumb down.
"First Bomb, Detonate!"
BOOM!
The rock armor covering Kitsuchi's body shattered into dust, fragments flying everywhere. He lost all defense.
The iron ball kept spinning.
Centered on Kitsuchi's fist, his skin, muscles, and bones twisted violently. His muscles tore apart, organs shifted, bones dislocated and snapped.
His body tilted weakly to one side, blood dripping from his arm.
'Too fast!'
Forget one minute, he hadn't lasted even ten seconds.
Both he and Ryosuke specialized in close combat, mixing physical attacks with mid- and long-range abilities or Stand powers.
But because they were the same type, the difference between them was all the more brutal.
Ryosuke stepped up to Kitsuchi and said softly, "Sorry."
Kitsuchi had many things he wanted to say, curses, maybe persuasion, but in the end, all he managed was a pale question, "Why?"
'Why apologize?'
Ryosuke answered, "I read your file. You have a daughter. From today, she won't have a father anymore. So… I'm sorry."
Kitsuchi's eyes flickered with mixed emotions.
There was no hatred between them.
Even now, at the very end, neither man looked at the other with anger or malice.
Kitsuchi was grounded and steady.
Ryosuke was straightforward and free-spirited.
In another time, under different circumstances, maybe they would've shared a drink and become friends.
But…
This was war.
Zzz~ Click!
Two discs popped out. Ryosuke drew them out smoothly.
Without the discs, the sea no longer resisted Kitsuchi. He sank slowly, his eyes wide and empty, disappearing into the dark depths.
Iwagakure's Jonin, son of the Third Tsuchikage Ōnoki, Kitsuchi… deceased.
The twenty-plus men who had tried to escape were caught by golden mist and dragged back like dead dogs.
At this point, there was no meaning in resisting anymore. Without elite-level power, they were being utterly crushed by Ryosuke.
"Lord Ryosuke! We, we surrender!"
Someone shouted first. Those who could still move fell to their knees. Those who couldn't yelled out from the ground.
Cries for mercy and pleas echoed endlessly.
At this moment, there were no longer mercenaries or samurai, only terrified, broken men who'd lost all courage.
Clack!
Ryosuke removed the wooden tag from his waist and dropped it onto the sea.
They stared at the two characters engraved on it, "Fierce Tiger."
And just like that, they understood. Their begging stopped. Their eyes filled with despair.
Ryosuke's message couldn't be clearer.
'If you've boarded the ship of invasion, if you've become a death squad soldier wielding the butcher's knife...'
'Then don't dream of mercy. Die in peace.'
'The path you chose, you'll walk it to the end, won't you?'
"Ryosuke!"
Curses, screams, and pleas echoed through the mist.
Ryosuke listened quietly and carefully, honoring their last moments in silence, then, coldly and efficiently, he began collecting their discs.
Suddenly, a different voice rang out, "Boss Ryosuke, wait, don't kill me! It's me!"
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