Chapter 43: VESSEL
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A heavy fog blanketed the night, the crescent moon barely visible above the dark waters. The rhythmic splash of oars broke the silence. Katorro sat motionless in the boat, his masked face calm, eyes fixed ahead. Two Ninjas rowed in unison before and behind him, their faces also concealed. Surrounding them, a fleet of other boats glided through the mist, each filled with more Ninjas—black shadows merging with the mist.
The cliffs loomed ahead, jagged and steep, vanishing into the darkness above. The distant murmur of waves crashing against the rocks below was the only indication of how far they had yet to go. The fortress of Emperia, capital of the Emperor faction, perched atop the cliffs, remained hidden from sight, but its presence was unmistakable.
Katorro didn’t speak. His focus was absolute. His mind had already calculated every step of the mission, every movement, every breath.
The boats arrived at the base of the cliff. Without a word, the Ninjas stepped out and began their ascent. Katorro was the last to stand, his figure a ghost against the dark sea as he followed the others. They let the boats drift away. This was a one-way trip.
The Ninjas scaled the cliff. Katorro led, his fingers finding purchase on the jagged rocks, his body moving effortlessly upward. As the cliff gave way to a smoother wall, they switched to climbing claws, continuing their ascent without breaking stride.
Halfway up, the faint outline of a sewer grate came into view. Katorro reached it first. He glanced down at the Ninjas below, then loaded a Jingozi card. With a flick of his wrist, the card glowed faintly, and Katorro pressed it against the grate. It transformed into a plasma blade, slicing cleanly through the metal bars with barely a sound.
Katorro gave the signal and climbed into the sewer.
Inside, the air was damp and foul. The narrow tunnel stretched out before them, barely tall enough to stand. Katorro crouched, holding a glowing card for just enough light as they crawled through the filth. Muffled cries echoed—children—trapped—their soft and desperate cries a reminder of their mission.
As they passed under each opening above, Katorro sliced the grates around the edge and then cleanly in half. A Ninja quickly supported the pieces in place, prepared to breach the dungeon cell above. Twelve Ninjas for twelve grates. They remained still and ready, waiting for the signal.
A scream from the last cell, a penetrating sound, raw with pain—a child's plea for help, desperate and agonizing.
Katorro gave the command.
The Ninjas allowed the pieces of the grates to fall into the sewer tunnel and hoisted themselves up into the cells. But to their surprise, every cell was empty, the barred doors ajar. The twelve entered the hall, giving each other puzzled looks.
Another wail burst from the end of the row. Curled under the window, a small, naked, and emaciated child let out another piercing scream. One of the Ninjas quickly moved toward the figure, but as he approached, it shifted. The child’s form began to twist and distort, the whimpers fading, replaced by a low, unnatural growl.
The child was no longer. The body contorted, limbs stretching unnaturally as the skin hardened and cracked. Before Katorro’s eyes, the child transformed into a clay Demi-Golem, its stone-like body filling the cell.
It was a trap.
The dungeon halls exploded with commotion. Guards poured in from behind them, their heavy boots pounding the stone as they marched through the hallways. The Ninjas stood their ground, drawing their blades, trapped between guards and the Golem.
The Golem lunged at one of them, but the Ninja was faster, his blade slicing through the air as he dodged the creature's studded fists. The Golem's stone-like body scraped against the wall, sending sparks flying. Undeterred, it swung again, its movements surprisingly quick for its bulk. The Ninja ducked and rolled, coming up behind the construct and striking it down.
His blade left barely a scratch on the golem's surface. Realizing brute force wouldn't work, the Ninja changed tactics. He darted around the golem, searching for weak points, his movements a blur of black against the creature's clay form. The Golem roared in frustration, its attacks becoming wilder and less coordinated.
Meanwhile, the clash of steel and the grunts of fellow Ninjas battling the guards continued on the other side. The narrow corridor echoed with combat—metal hitting metal while bodies collided.
A knight stepped into the hall, towering over the other guards. He was clad in heavy black armor. His head was bald and covered in scars, and he had a thick black beard. A golden ram's head protruding from an upside-down cross gleamed ominously on his chest. In one hand, he held a massive golden mace, its handle wrapped with a rosary. An unsettling aura of corrupted sanctity radiated from the unholy paladin.
The knight coiled into a battle stance, his eyes locking onto the first Ninja. His grim smile spoke of cruel intentions.
“Lightslayer,” Katorro muttered, immediately recognizing the infamous Jingozi grandmaster. He braced himself as Lance charged, his heavy footsteps reverberating through the stone floor. Even the Golem paused to watch.
“You should have stayed in the shadows,” Lance growled, loading his Jingozi hand. “But now you’ll perish by Zebelma's light.”
Charging his mace with a card, Lance brought the weapon down, causing a shockwave of exploding light. Blinded, the Ninjas dodged, rolling out of the way as the mace crashed into the stone, splitting it with a thunderous crack. The first Ninja rose to his feet, blade ready, but Lance was already on him, swinging with brutal strength. The mace shattered the katana, transforming midswing into an axe to cleave the Ninja in two. The knight put his boot on the Ninja’s body and yanked back, launching a chunk of flesh and trails of organs that splattered the ceiling.
Infusing his mace with another card, the Jingozi grandmaster hurled it down the hall, pulverizing two Ninjas and a guard. The Golem ducked just in time as the mace embedded into the stone wall above its head. Playing another card, Lance extended his hand. The mace vibrated and released itself from the stone, flying back and bowling over more Ninjas and guards before catching it.
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The Golem tackled an unsuspecting Ninja who was grappling with a guard. It grabbed the Ninja in a chokehold and twisted until an audible snap. The Golem unleashed a disturbing scream, sounding once again like a child.
The skirmish lasted a few more moments after more guards swarmed into the hall. One by one, the Ninjas succumbed.
Lance grinned as he brought his mace down again, knocking a katana aside and then slamming the butt of the handle into a Ninja’s chest, sending him crashing against the wall.
As Katorro struggled to rise, pinned under three guards, Lance put his boot on his back, breathing heavily with satisfaction.
"Ah, how unfortunate. Your misguided crusade ends here, as all acts of wickedness must. We, the righteous, have triumphed. It is time to accept the judgment that your sinful ways have brought upon you."
* * *
Katorro, shackled and bleeding, was dragged into the grand throne room of Emperor Overlord Edric. The air was thick with incense, and the oppressive weight of the faction ruler's Zii filled the vast space. The ornate walls, lined with tapestries depicting the Emperor’s victories, mocked the Ninjas as they were forced to kneel on the cold stone floor.
Beside Katorro, two of his fellow Ninjas knelt, equally shackled, their faces hidden beneath their masks. They had fought bravely but, like him, were subdued.
At the far end of the room, the Emperor Overlord sat upon his gaudy throne, draped in regal purple, his pale face twisted in a sneer. Edric’s eyes locked onto Katorro with a look of both curiosity and disdain.
“Remove his mask,” Edric ordered.
The guards stepped forward, ripping off Katorro’s mask. His face was bruised, but his black eyes glinted with a steely, unbroken spirit.
Edric rose slowly, the weight of his presence growing with each step he took toward them. He stopped before Katorro, staring down at him.
“I wonder,” Edric said slowly, “why would your faction send a common field Ninja for such a brazen assault? Did you foolishly believe I would not know? That you could stroll into my domain and steal children—my children?”
Katorro refused a response, his silence agitating the Emperor.
“Still defiant?” Edric’s eyes narrowed, his hand moving to the spiked wand strapped to his side. “I asked you a question, Ninja.”
Without a flicker of fear or submission, Katorro’s gaze didn’t waver.
Edric’s hand lashed out, and before anyone could react, the spike was driven deep into Katorro’s stomach. The sharp pain ripped through him, but Katorro clenched his teeth, refusing to give Edric the satisfaction of a scream. He felt the blood streaming through his gi.
Edric leaned in, his face close to Katorro’s.
“I can make this quick if you tell me who is behind all this futility,” he whispered.
The Ninja met his gaze with cold fire through the pain. Katorro then did something that made Edric pause—the Ninja smiled. Katorro crunched a small capsule hidden inside his mouth. His jaw tightened, biting down hard. A liquid burst in his mouth. He immediately felt a burning sensation.
Katorro spat acid directly onto Edric’s face.
The Emperor screamed—a guttural, enraged cry—his hands flying to his face as the acid seared his flesh. He stumbled back, his once-proud features contorting in agony as the toxic chemicals ate away at his skin with a disgusting sizzling sound. The burns spread, the flesh bubbling and smoking.
But the damage was inflicted both ways. Katorro’s mouth, his throat, everything burned as the acid ravaged him from within. He felt the life slipping from him, but the satisfaction of seeing his enemy suffer was worth it. His vision dimmed as he collapsed forward onto the floor, his face melting into a bloody soup.
As the guards rushed to the ruler's side, the second Ninja, unnoticed, sprang into action in the confusion. He leaped onto Edric from behind, wrapping his chains around the Overlord's neck. The guards were too slow. Edric reached back and tore the Ninja’s mask away, revealing… Katorro.
The real Katorro.
The other Ninja, now dead, was a decoy, a clone, while the real Katorro had hidden in plain sight. His eyes burned with fire as he unleashed a Jingozi card and transformed. Armored plates grew over his body and face, bursting into flames. The air pulsed with magic as he took his true form—a fire demon, his Ninja armor blazing with fiery light. The shackle broke as a blade grew in his hands. He raised it high above the writhing Overlord.
Edric, his face burned and disfigured, spun and looked up in horror as Katorro prepared to deliver the final blow.
A Jingozi card struck Katorro in the back, its power surging through him. His fiery form flickered and vanished, his demonic power stripped away. He collapsed to his knees, back to his normal form, his strength drained.
Behind him, three figures floated down the stairs—Jingozi. Cloaked in darkness, their presence brought a sudden, chilling silence to the room.
Edric staggered to his feet, his face smoking from the acid burns, but he cackled. He held his injured face with one hand while, with the other, he gestured toward Katorro.
“Why?” Edric demanded again, his voice a rasping growl. "Why risk your life this way?"
Katorro remained silent, kneeling before the Jingozi with his head bowed. His breath was ragged, his body weakened, but his fury was unwavering. He would not speak.
Edric, still clutching his seared face, let out a cold laugh. He stabbed Katorro in the shoulder with his wand and then ripped his Ninja suit, revealing a Jingozi belt strapped across the Ninja's chest. Edric tore it off and tossed it over his shoulder.
He turned toward the other Ninja, still kneeling in shackles.
“If you will not answer, maybe your friend will.”
With a swift motion, Edric removed the Ninja’s mask, revealing a woman with red hair—her eyes wide with fear.
Stunned, Katorro stared at the woman, recognizing who she was.
“My my, she is quite fair, would you not agree?” Edric grinned despite the pain radiating from his burns. “Perhaps she will be more cooperative after a little… persuasion.”
“I will talk,” Katorro growled.
“And what would you like to talk about, Ninja?” Edric jeered.
“I will tell you why I came to kill you… who sent me.” Katorro paused.
“Well? You test my patience. Out with it.”
“I speak to the Jingozi first, and you agree to spare her life.”
“Or I could kill you now and return your head to your faction on a satin pillow.”
“Then I will give you the key to my card deck,” Katorro grimaced.
Edric appeared startled, as if he'd received an unexpected gift. He turned to the three Jingozi, who nodded in unison.
“Then say it," Edric's confused expression turned into glee.
“By my Zii, I swear it before three,” Katorro hung his head.
“Well, I must confess,” Edric’s satisfied eyes puffed with wisps of purple smoke. “This is a most delightful turn of events.”
Katorro locked gazes with the red-haired Ninja. His eyes lit with flames, and so did hers.
“Take them away,” Edric commanded.
* * *
Katorro knelt on the cell floor, shackled by his hands and feet. Another shackle clamped his neck, with four chains securing it to four rings bolted into the floor. A lone Jingozi floated before him, its hood drawn to reveal the grotesque metal skull mask.
The Ninja snapped his fingers to create a Zii coin and presented it to the Jingozi.
“She is the vessel,” Katorro said.
The Jingozi extended its bony metal hand, plucked the Zii coin from Katorro’s palm, and nodded.
As soon as the Jingozi left the cell, Katorro felt the twinge of weakness creep into his bones. His muscles began to atrophy as if in timelapse, his once-powerful frame slowly shrinking. By nightfall, his hair thinned and grayed.
Hours passed, each one extracting its toll. His skin lost elasticity, and wrinkles formed around his eyes and mouth. His posture, once proud and straight, curved and hunched. His eyesight blurred. Colors faded to muted shades.
Hours turned into days, and Katorro's transformation continued relentlessly. His hair fell out completely, except for a few tufts. Once steady and strong enough to wield any weapon, his hands became gnarled and trembling. His voice, previously commanding and clear, turned raspy and weak.
Katorro became a shadow of his former self. Where once stood a mighty Ninja warrior and Jingozi grandmaster, now knelt a frail, blind old man, withered, weak and vulnerable.
But even as his physical form failed him, one thing remained constant—the fire in his eyes.