Chapter 42 The Land of Demons

The sky was clear, a pale blue canvas streaked with soft clouds, as Riku, Chiyo, and Jiraiya made their way down the winding stone paths of Mount Myōboku.

Riku readjusted the strap of his pack and glanced sideways at the bird perched on his shoulder, he had his main sword-Daichi at his hip and the Kiba Blades on his back.

Before they left, Raiden paid Riku a visit and returned the Kiba blades after some experimentation with them.

"Still hanging on, eh, Shiro?" he muttered, drawing an indignant chirp from the magpie.

Chiyo walked a few steps behind, her lavender eyes scanning the landscape in quiet wonder. She clasped the edge of her cloak tightly to her against the chill of the morning, her thoughts scattered. It was years since she had seen her mother-years of questions, fears, and dreams now churning in her mind as in a storm.

Jiraiya was in the lead. Surprisingly, he moved very well with an air of focused determination despite his normally carefree character.

"You two keeping up?" he called back over his shoulder, his voice booming through the forest.

"Just barely," Riku replied, kicking a loose rock down the trail. "We couldn't have taken a teleportation jutsu or something?"

Jiraiya grinned. "What's the fun in that? A trip like this is character-building."

Riku rolled his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause nothing says 'character' like sore feet and endless walking."

Chiyo's soft giggles cut through his grousing. "It's not so bad, Riku. The fresh air, the open sky-it's beautiful."

'Hmm… that name again…' Jiraiya thought to himself as he peered back at the two.

"Yeah, nice view," Riku grumbled. "Til a storm blows in." He tossed a glance back at Shiro. "And I'll wager this guy will bugger off when the goin' gets tough."

Shiro let out an indignant squawk and flapped his wings, as if protesting.

Jiraiya chuckled. "Seems like the new friend's got more guts than you give him credit for."

"Nevermind I give up trying to walk." Riku groaned as two wings sprouted out from his back and he began to hover above the ground and followed behind.

Jiraiya's eyes widened, but Chiyo had already seen this before.

"What is tha—" Jiraiya tried to ask but was interrupted by Riku

"Another technique from my clan." Riku cut him off, continuing to slowly fly behind them.

At noon, the three of them arrived at the foot of the mountain and stepped onto a narrow dirt road that reached far into the distance toward the horizon. Beyond the road lay the Land of Demons, a place Riku knew only by patches from memory of his other world. He had a nervous twitch.

"Well," Jiraiya said, breaking the silence suddenly, "Chiyo, ready? To see your mom again, after all these years?"

Chiyo hesitated, clinging tightly to her cloak. "I… I don't know. What if she doesn't remember me? Or worse, what if she doesn't want me back?"

"Don't be ridiculous," said Riku-so softening his tone for once, "You're her daughter; of course, she'll want you back."

Jiraiya nodded. "Ruki's right. Mothers have some sort of intuition when it comes to their kids, even years later. Trust me."

Chiyo gave a small, diffident smile. "Thank you. I just. I hope I'm strong enough for this."

"You are," Riku said firmly. "Besides, you've got us with you. Not much can go wrong." Except for the bandits, rogue shinobi, and demon-worshipping cultists, " Jiraiya added casually.

Riku grumbled. "Thanks for the optimism man."

Down the road, the group continued, the landscape gradually changing from dense forests to open plains. The journey was quiet, not tense, the trio falling into a comfortable rhythm as the sun arced across the sky.

As the sun began to set, Riku turned to Shiro, who had sat silent but alert for hours. "You know, you could just go scout ahead or something, instead of just freeloading.".

Shiro merely cocked an eyebrow, wholly unimpressed.

Chiyo giggled this time too, and her earlier nervousness cooled with every mile passing. The sight of her-smiling, unguarded-made Riku's chest fill with a weird calm.

"Alright," Jiraiya said as the sun dipped toward the horizon. "We'll make camp here for the night. Plenty of cover, and it's close to a stream."

Dropping his pack finally with a relaxed sound, Riku said, "Man, I was starting to feel you were trying to drive us all insane with such constant walking travelling."

"Quit bitching and start gathering firewood," Jiraiya told him, throwing him a pointed look.

"Fine," Riku muttered under his breath, though he did turn and continue on into the nearby trees. Shiro followed, flitting from branch to branch as if supervising him.

Chiyo set up her tent, still staring down the road from whence her mother waited somewhere beyond the hills. Her chest constricted at the thought, her panic and longing intermingling.

Riku came back with his arms full of woods and dropped them noisily beside the fire pit Jiraiya had dug. "There. Can I sit down now, or do you want me to wrestle a bear for dinner too?"

Jiraiya chuckled, lighting the fire with a quick jutsu. "Relax, Ruki. You've earned your break." The three of them sat around the crackling fire, soft sounds of night enveloping them.

Riku stared into the fire, his mind carrying him forward. The Land of Demons, Chiyo's family, all that might be ahead for them-it was a lot to absorb.

…

…

1 week later,

Kristian trudged on, bruised and battered, his ragged breath misting in the chill of the air.

The once-small boar-Gristle-now loomed beside him, a towering six metres of muscle and bristling fur. Each great hoof of Gristle's fell with silent promises of destruction to whatever poor soul would be so foolish as to get in their way.

Kristian wiped at the gash across the bridge of his nose, the blood drying into a dark crust.

His hand trembled slightly as he did this, but he did not care. Pain had become his traveling companion, along with the growing silence within.

The tics, those sharp bursts of movement and sound which had racked his body, stilled into an almost eerie quiet. Yet here and there fingers would twitch or his neck jerk, the faint echo of a storm which once raged inside him.

He looked up at Gristle, whose tusked mouth, now heavy-looking, shone like polished ivory in the pale sunlight. Hardly recognisable now in sudden, inexplicable growth, the boar pricked an ear forward; the normally mischievous glint in his eye had turned to a steely determination matching Kristian's.

"Guess we're both different now, huh?" Kristian muttered, his voice hoarse. He winced as his throat strained, a side effect of the fights he'd endured and lack of hydration over the weeks.

Gristle let out a low, rumbling grunt, the flicking of his ears seemingly in agreement.

The beasts of the wild had come at them in waves: wolves with razor-sharp teeth, monstrous bears whose claws seemed almost like scythes, and even a lonely tiger that Kristian was quite certain had some sort of chakra-enhanced abilities. Each combat had left him more hurt, yet none had stopped him.

"I'm not dying here," he muttered, his voice full of defiance. "Not before I get my revenge."

His free hand strayed to the axe strapped across his back. Its handle was in-splintered in a couple of places, the blade chipped and dull, but it was his lifeline. The reassuring heft of it was comforting, reminding him of just who he was-a hunter, an avenger.

The path went down in a slope down towards a thick forest. All the treetops around them reached up, gnarled and high, their branches curved above their heads to make a canopy which filtered all but a few rays of sun. Something crawled along the nape of Kristian's neck. This was a place, if ever, predators would thrive.

As they walked deeper, the silence turned to oppressive, stillness broken only by the occasional rustling of leaves. Kristian's fingers jerked involuntarily, while his teeth clenched to stop the small clicking sound threatening to break through.

"I hate this," he grumbled-more to himself than Gristle-"I hate the quiet. I hate this whole place."

Gristle snorted in response, the big head swinging about, suddenly on high alert.

Kristian casts a sideward look over the boar. "You feel it, too, huh? Like something's watching us?

A soft rustling came from behind them, and Kristian straightened up. The axe in his hand tightened; his knuckles were white. He turned, muscles ready, prepared for some kind of attack, but nothing was there-just trees and shadows.

He exhaled shakily, a nervous laugh bubbling up despite himself. "Paranoid. I'm getting paranoid now."

Gristle poked him with the big snout and near fell.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Kristian said, rubbing the spot where the boar had shoved him. "Keep moving. Got it."

They pressed on until the trees gave out onto the rocky plain. Demons Land was closing in; he could feel it. Tales that reached him from this region whispered in his mind, stories of cursed spots, mighty priestesses, and lightness clinging to every nook.

A tic flared in Kristian's neck and suddenly he was remembering: his little brother's smile, the quiet hum of his parents' voices. His neck jerked sideways; a low grunt was forced out of his throat. He clamped his teeth down, willing the thought to disappear.

"I'll make it," he whispered. "For them."

The huge bulk of Gristle leaned toward him, almost protectively, as if from the weight of his sorrow.

By the time the first hints of the Demon Lands showed above the horizon-a saw-toothed mountain range jailed in the crimson arms of the setting sun-Kristian's legs were lead. He stumbled, catching hold of Gristle's side. "We're close," he said, his voice barely audible.

The boar grunted softly; his exhaled air, so warm against cold, oozed from his nostrils. Kristian straightened, his resolve hardening once more. "No matter what's waiting for us there, we're going to face it. Together." Gristle nodded-or at least, it looked like a nod-and the two pressed onward, their shadows long against the darkening landscape.

…

…

2 months later,

Kuroma was once hailed as the Hidden Stone Village's greatest prodigy, but his ambition had consumed him. Disillusioned by the shinobi world, he turned to forbidden paths and found the secrets of the Genryū: legendary dragons representing the primal elements. Kuroma had already awakened four out of the five, subjugating their immense power to his will. Now, only one remained: the Earth Genryū, sealed deep within the Land of Demons.

Before him stretched the Land of Demons, rugged and bathed in the golden hues of dusk. Kuroma stood at the top of the cliff, the obsidian crystal in his hand glowing softly. This artifact, forged from his own chakra and the Genryū's essence, vibrated with the power of the dragons he had already tamed. The Earth Genryū, the final piece of his grand design, awaited him beneath the shrine guarded by ancient seals and vigilant protectors.

Behind him, a band of followers—villainous shinobi, mercenaries, and rejects of various kinds—stood silent in nervousness. On the whole, faces had changed over to show mixed amazement and fear, as if each one eagerly awaited the command of the leader.

"The seal has weakened," Kuroma said, the smooth crystal echoing in voice. "The dragon stirring, it has sensed its brethren. We have to reach it before the priests strengthen their defense."

A wiry man with a scarred face stepped forward. "Lord Kuroma, the scouts report increased activity at the shrine. The priests and the child priestess seem to be preparing something."

"The child priestess," Kuroma echoed with a disdainful chuckle. "You speak of Shion?"

The man nodded hesitantly.

"She is no more than an uncut gem," Kuroma said with disdain. "Her power is raw, her spirit weak. The child is no threat."

Kuroma's words silenced the murmurs of doubt among his men. With a flourish, he turned and began to make his way down the rocky path. The group followed, their movements deliberate but cautious as the landscape became more treacherous.

The air grew cold as they descended into a canyon filled with mist. Shadows stretched out unnaturally, curling and twisting with a life of their own. Kuroma's chakra surged, casting a faint black-and-gold glow that parted the mist before him. But the shadows were not the only things moving in the dark.

A guttural growl echoed through the canyon. Out of the mist appeared a hulking beast: wolf-like, with fur matted and eyes that glowed red. Its maw opened to reveal fangs sopping with saliva as it charged.

Kuroma didn't bat an eyebrow. He raised the obsidian crystal, and with a pulse of chakra, the black flames erupted from it, enveloping the beast. The howl of pain it let out only lasted a second before the beast was turned to ash.

"Not a step behind," he ordered coldly.

His followers tightened their formation, their eyes scanning the mist for further threats. Another growl echoed, followed by a roar. Larger creatures prowled in the shadows—twisted beasts drawn to the crystal's power.

The scarred man hesitated, his voice trembling. "The closer we get, the worse they'll become."

Kuroma's lips curled into a smirk. "They are drawn to power, nothing more. Do not mistake them for obstacles-they are merely reminders of our proximity to destiny."

The group continued onward, their journey through the jagged cliffs and on unstable ground. Finally, they emerged from the mist, and the shrine came into view. It stood atop a hill-a crumbling yet imposing structure of ancient stone bathed in the eerie glow of moonlight, with the faint hum of protective seals in the air.

Kuroma halted, his eyes fixed on the shrine before him. He could sense the stirring of the Earth Genryū beneath, its power calling to him. Turning to his men, his face was now sharp and commanding.

"The guards will try to stop us," he said. "Kill them if need be, but do not damage the shrine. The Earth Genryū must awaken unharmed."

"What about the priestess?" the scarred man asked.

Kuroma's eyes gleamed. "She is nothing. Do not waste your time."

As Kuroma raised the crystal, the earth below them shook. The air filled with energy as the seals surrounding the shrine stirred in response to his presence. He could feel the heartbeat of the Genryū-a deep, rhythmic pulse echoing through his chakra.

But in the shrine, young Shion stirred, she sat cross-legged on the stone floor, her lavender eyes glowing faintly with prophetic light. Her small hands clenched into fists as she whispered prayers taught by her mother, the priestess who guarded the land.

"Mother," she said softly, her voice trembling. "He's coming. The man from my visions."

Her mother, kneeling beside her, put a reassuring hand on Shion's shoulder. "Stay calm, Shion, The seals will hold."

The shrine was surrounded outside by Kuroma's men, who cut down the shrine guards pitilessly. Visions swirled in her head: a man with a crystal and an aura that was so dark it choked the life out of her. An earth dragon rising from beneath her, rumbling across the heavens, a girl that looked similar to her, a muscular boy wielding a lightning enhanced axe, a large toad and an even larger dragon. Her small hands shook, and tears finally burst from her glowing eyes at the cacophony of battle outside.

Kuroma stood at the lands entrance, his crystal glowing like a dark star. He smirked, savoring the anticipation. "The final dragon," he murmured. "The world will bow before me."

A/N : Ik this didn't happen in the og, but it's more interesting this way.