Chapter 10: The Wrath of Kagemori
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a blood-red glow across the forest as it began its descent into twilight. The scene was one of serene, natural beauty—yet beneath the surface, something far more terrifying was about to unfold. The Navy SEAL squads, elite soldiers accustomed to facing death without flinching, had tracked Kagemori to this remote location. Their mission was clear: eliminate the target at all costs. What they did not know, what no one could have foreseen, was that they were about to face a nightmare unlike any they had ever encountered.
In the heart of the clearing, Kagemori stood like a grim sentinel, his blood-soaked blade gleaming in the dying light. At his feet lay the lifeless body of a child, its vacant eyes staring up at the sky. The brutal reminder of Kagemori's unyielding cruelty sent a chill through the soldiers' spines. The child’s death was not a random act of violence—it was a calculated display of Kagemori’s utter indifference to human life. The sight of it made even the hardened SEALs hesitate for a fraction of a second, a momentary lapse in resolve.
"Open fire!" the commanding officer barked, breaking the frozen silence.
In perfect unison, fifty rifles thundered to life, their barrels spitting a storm of bullets toward the target. The air was alive with the sound of metal tearing through the atmosphere. The shots were precise, aimed at vital points—Kagemori’s heart, his head, his vital organs. Yet as the bullets struck his body, they shattered on contact, the force dissipating harmlessly into the air. Kagemori’s flesh, invulnerable and almost godlike in its resilience, did not yield. His silhouette remained untouched, a living monument to death and destruction.
"Impossible," one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, his voice trembling with disbelief.
Kagemori lifted his gaze slowly, locking eyes with the men who dared to challenge him. His eyes glowed with an unnatural light, a fire born of malice and superiority. "Fools," he whispered, his voice a cold, resonant growl. "You cannot harm a god."
Without warning, Kagemori lunged forward, his speed a blur that defied human comprehension. The first squad barely had time to react before he was upon them. His blade flashed through the air with terrifying precision. There was no warning, no moment of hesitation. His sword sliced through the soldiers with ease, severing limbs and cleaving bodies in a grotesque symphony of blood and gore. The sound of steel meeting flesh echoed through the clearing as men screamed and fell, their lives snuffed out in an instant.
The remaining soldiers scrambled, attempting to regroup and encircle him, but it was futile. Grenades exploded in a hail of fire and smoke, their shockwaves rattling the trees and obscuring the air, but Kagemori emerged from the chaos unscathed. His movements were fluid and graceful, a perfect predator in the midst of its prey.
One by one, the SEALs fell. The battle had no rhythm, no strategy—it was an unrelenting massacre. Some attempted to stand their ground, drawing their knives or charging with their rifles, but it was hopeless. Kagemori’s strikes were brutal, unyielding, and swift. He was everywhere at once, his blade a living extension of his will. His enemies were nothing more than obstacles in his path, their weapons meaningless in the face of his overwhelming power.
This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.
A handful of men tried to retreat, fleeing in terror, but Kagemori’s fury was unmatched. He surged forward with deadly purpose, cutting down those who attempted to escape. Blood pooled on the forest floor, the once peaceful clearing now a scene of carnage. The air was thick with the metallic scent of death.
Minutes felt like hours, but the slaughter continued without pause. The forest, once filled with life, was now a graveyard. The SEAL squads—once the finest warriors of the United States military—lay scattered across the battlefield, their bodies twisted and broken in impossible positions, a grim testament to Kagemori’s supremacy. His blade gleamed with their blood, and the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the scene of devastation.
Kagemori stood amidst the ruin, his form bathed in the red glow of the dying light. He wiped the blood from his blade, the motion almost casual, as if the violence meant nothing to him. He sheathed his sword with a resonant shing, the sound piercing the oppressive silence that had descended on the forest. His eyes, cold and unblinking, scanned the scene with indifference, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Let this be a warning," he murmured, his voice carrying on the wind, the words slipping like poison into the ears of the dead. "No mortal can challenge me and live."
For a moment, the clearing was silent. The only sound was the distant rustling of leaves in the wind. Then, the crack of a single rifle shattered the stillness.
A lone SEAL, battered and broken, struggled to rise to his knees. His body was a wreck, his uniform torn and bloodied, but his hands still clutched the rifle with desperate resolve. Sweat streamed down his face, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He aimed his weapon, the barrel trembling as he locked eyes with Kagemori. With a final, defiant scream, he pulled the trigger.
The bullets flew, their paths sharp and true. But Kagemori moved faster than the eye could follow. His blade was a blur, a streak of silver in the fading light. The first bullet came toward him, and with a flick of his wrist, Kagemori deflected it. The projectile split in mid-air, its fragments scattering harmlessly to the ground. Another shot—deflected. A third—again, the blade danced through the air, slicing the bullet in two.
The SEAL's hands shook violently, his entire body wracked with fear. The impossible was happening before him, and he could no longer comprehend it. He fired again, and again, but each bullet was met with Kagemori’s blade. It was as if the man could see the future, his reflexes so far beyond human capability that he seemed to predict the trajectory of every shot before it left the barrel.
With a final, frantic cry, the soldier emptied the magazine, unleashing a storm of bullets in a desperate attempt to stop the unrelenting force that was Kagemori. But it was hopeless. Kagemori's blade cut through the air with unparalleled speed, intercepting every shot with deadly precision. The final bullet ricocheted off his sword, slamming into a tree with a dull thud.
The soldier dropped his rifle, the weapon now useless in his hands. His spirit had already broken, and he scrambled backward, desperate to escape. But it was too late. Kagemori was upon him in an instant. With a single, fluid motion, the blade was at the soldier’s throat, its edge gleaming with an icy promise of death.
"You fought bravely," Kagemori said, his tone cold and mocking, as if the soldier’s effort was but a minor inconvenience. "But bravery alone cannot save you."
The blade descended with brutal efficiency, slicing through the soldier’s throat and ending his life in the span of a heartbeat. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless and discarded.
The clearing was quiet once more. The sounds of battle had faded, replaced by the eerie stillness of death. Kagemori surveyed the destruction with cold satisfaction, his eyes flickering with an emotion that could not be described as anything other than contempt.
Without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest, leaving behind only blood and broken bodies. The forest seemed to breathe again, but it was no longer the same forest. It had become a place of darkness, forever marked by the wrath of Kagemori.