Published at 17th of September 2024 5:14 pm

Chapter 83 The Last Shadow: 6 Web of Lies

This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl

The forest enveloped them as Kojiro and Katsuro sprinted through the underbrush, the sounds of their pursuers fading into the distance. Despite the physical exertion, Kojiro’s mind was racing faster than his legs. The map clutched tightly in his hand was the key to understanding what they were up against, but he knew that the secrets it contained were more dangerous than any enemy they had faced so far.

After what felt like hours, they slowed their pace, moving silently through the trees until they reached a small clearing. Katsuro scanned the area, his eyes sharp and alert, before nodding toward a large boulder half-hidden by foliage.

“Here,” he whispered. “We’ll rest for a moment and check the map.”

Kojiro followed him, sinking down behind the boulder, his breath coming in short, controlled bursts. The tension in his body hadn’t fully subsided, but the immediate danger was behind them—for now. Katsuro sat beside him, his gaze still scanning the surrounding forest, never fully relaxing.

“Let’s see what we’ve got,” Katsuro said after a moment, gesturing toward the map.

Kojiro unrolled the large parchment, smoothing it out on the ground between them. The map was old, its edges frayed and worn, but the markings were clear. It depicted a detailed layout of the Land of Rivers and the surrounding territories, with several locations marked in red. Each mark corresponded to a different location—caves, small villages, and even seemingly innocuous landmarks.

“What are these?” Kojiro muttered, tracing the marks with his finger.

Katsuro leaned closer, studying the map. “These are their outposts,” he said, his voice grim. “Places like the one we just hit. But look—there’s more.”

He pointed to a larger red mark near the border of the Land of Fire, just a few days' journey from Konoha. Unlike the smaller outposts, this mark was surrounded by symbols that Kojiro didn’t recognize, but they gave off a sinister feeling.

“This must be their main base,” Katsuro said, his voice low. “The place where they’re coordinating all of their operations.”

Kojiro felt a chill run down his spine as he stared at the map. “If this is their base… then we’re up against something much bigger than we thought.”

Katsuro nodded, his expression grim. “We’ve only scratched the surface. These outposts—they’re nothing compared to what they’re building here. And if we don’t stop them soon…”

His voice trailed off, but Kojiro didn’t need him to finish the thought. Whatever this organization was, their reach extended far beyond the Land of Rivers. They were planning something on a massive scale, and Kojiro could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

“We need to take this to the Hokage,” Kojiro said, rolling up the map. “He needs to know what we’ve found.”

Katsuro hesitated, his eyes narrowing. “You trust the Hokage?”

Kojiro frowned, caught off guard by the question. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Katsuro leaned back against the boulder, his gaze distant. “There are too many unanswered questions, Kojiro. Too many things that don’t add up. How did this organization grow so powerful without anyone noticing? How did they acquire so many forbidden jutsu? And why are we only finding out about them now, when they’re already on the verge of launching something this big?”

Kojiro’s mind raced as he considered Katsuro’s words. He had been so focused on the immediate danger that he hadn’t stopped to question the larger picture. Katsuro was right—there were too many unknowns. But that didn’t mean they could act alone.

“We can’t take on an entire organization by ourselves,” Kojiro said, trying to keep his voice steady. “The Hokage has resources—ANBU, intelligence operatives. We need help.”

Katsuro shook his head. “Help from who? How do we know who we can trust? For all we know, someone inside Konoha could be feeding them information.”

Kojiro stared at him, a knot forming in his stomach. “You think there’s a traitor?”

Katsuro’s gaze darkened. “I don’t know what to think. But we can’t be naïve about this. If we hand this over to the wrong person, we could be signing our own death warrants—and worse, letting them complete whatever they’re planning.”

Kojiro clenched his fists, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Katsuro’s paranoia was unsettling, but Kojiro couldn’t deny that he had a point. This wasn’t just a rogue group of shinobi—they were well-organized, well-funded, and moving with a purpose that suggested deep connections.

“We don’t have enough information,” Kojiro muttered. “We need more.”

Katsuro gave a curt nod. “Exactly. And I know where we can get it.”

Kojiro raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“There’s someone in Konoha,” Katsuro said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “Someone who’s been investigating these people for years—off the record. I don’t know his real name, but people in the underworld call him ‘The Weaver.’ He’s a master of information. If anyone knows what’s really going on, it’s him.”

Kojiro frowned. “How do you know about this guy?”

Katsuro hesitated, then sighed. “Because I’ve used him before. When I started tracking this group, I realized I couldn’t rely on official channels. Too many people asking questions, too many dead ends. So I went underground. I met the Weaver a few years ago, and he’s the one who helped me piece together the first clues about this organization.”

Kojiro’s skepticism deepened. “And you trust him?”

“I don’t trust anyone,” Katsuro replied bluntly. “But I know he has information. And right now, that’s all that matters.”

Kojiro mulled over Katsuro’s words, the weight of the decision pressing down on him. If they went to the Weaver, they’d be diving deeper into the shadows, into a world of deception and lies. But if they didn’t, they might never get the answers they needed.

“Fine,” Kojiro said after a long pause. “We’ll find this Weaver. But after that, we go to the Hokage—no more secrets.”

Katsuro nodded, though there was a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “Agreed.”

They set off again, moving quietly through the forest as the sun dipped lower on the horizon. As they traveled, Kojiro couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced over his shoulder more than once, his senses on high alert, but there was no sign of pursuit.

Hours later, they reached the outskirts of Konoha. The village loomed in the distance, its gates standing tall against the fading light. But instead of heading toward the main entrance, Katsuro led Kojiro down a narrow, winding path that skirted the village walls.

“This way,” Katsuro whispered, gesturing for Kojiro to follow.

They moved through the dark alleys of the village, avoiding the well-lit streets and crowded markets. Kojiro’s familiarity with Konoha’s streets felt distant now, as if he were walking through a stranger’s home. The shadows of his past clung to him, blending with the present as they ventured deeper into the underbelly of the village.

Finally, they arrived at a small, nondescript building tucked between two larger structures. Katsuro knocked three times on the door, then stepped back, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a man shrouded in a cloak. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but Kojiro could feel the sharpness of his gaze from beneath the shadows.

“You seek the Weaver,” the man said in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Katsuro nodded. “We need information.”

The man stepped aside, allowing them to enter. The room inside was dimly lit by a single lantern, its flickering light casting eerie shadows on the walls. Papers, scrolls, and maps covered every surface, and in the center of it all sat a figure, hunched over a desk.

The Weaver.

Kojiro and Katsuro approached cautiously, the air thick with tension. The Weaver didn’t look up from his work, his long, bony fingers tracing lines on a map.

“You’ve come far,” the Weaver said, his voice low and gravelly. “But you’ve only scratched the surface.”

Katsuro exchanged a glance with Kojiro before stepping forward. “We need answers. This organization—the one operating in the Land of Rivers. Who are they? And what are they planning?”

The Weaver finally looked up, his eyes glinting in the lantern light. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“They call themselves the Order of the Abyss,” the Weaver said. “And they’re not just planning a raid. They’re planning to rewrite the world.”

Share