Chapter 49: Helicopters, Internal Bleeding, and Surprise Dragon-Punch Airlines
Ryuto Asamiya—better known by his super-cool villain name "Odin"—sat in the passenger seat of a luxury car that was sleek enough to make Bruce Wayne jealous.
He didn't say a word.
Which was weird, because normally he'd be boasting about some legendary martial arts technique, or at least humming an evil-sounding tune. But today, Odin was brooding. Not the "dark and mysterious anime guy" kind of brooding. More like the "I just crushed my best friends in a fight and now I feel kind of gross about it" kind.
The car's leather seat creaked slightly as he shifted.
Behind him, his Ragnarok gang followed in a convoy of armored SUVs—because nothing says "teenage martial arts cult" like driving around like a dictator in a war zone.
And no, Ryuto wasn't rich. He didn't have billionaire parents or a trust fund. Everything he had—every yen—he'd earned through pain, blood, and absurdly intense Ki training. His master Ogata would be proud, or maybe just give him that terrifying smile and say something cryptic like, "Only the strong may question the meaning of strength."
Yeah. Super helpful.
But the truth was, despite the soft leather under him, the shining city lights, and the fact that he looked like a villainous K-pop idol, Ryuto wasn't feeling like a winner.
Because he had won. Technically.
He'd beaten both Kenichi and Naruto.
Kenichi, the always-apologetic puppy dog who wanted to save everyone.
And Naruto, the unpredictable storm that had rolled into the martial arts world like a golden hurricane wrapped in ramen and determination.
Ryuto clenched his gloved fist.
"He was only fighting for two months…" he muttered.
The driver glanced at him nervously.
"What was that, sir?"
"Nothing. Eyes on the road."
Right. Two months. That's all the time Naruto had been seriously training in martial arts. Yet somehow, he'd dodged, blocked, and traded blows with someone like him. Odin. The freaking king of Ragnarok. The guy who had soloed whole dojos. That wasn't natural.
Ryuto's face twitched.
Sure, the fight had ended in his favor. Kenichi was out cold. Naruto had taken one too many hits and folded like a poorly-written anime filler episode. But something hadn't felt… satisfying.
Because Naruto hadn't really lost.
Not in spirit.
Not in ideology.
When Ryuto said, "I fight for victory. Power. Nothing else."
Naruto had just smirked and said, "Then you're already weaker than me."
And somehow, that hurt more than any punch.
Because deep down, Naruto wasn't wrong.
Ryuto looked out the window. His own reflection stared back. Cold eyes. Calm face. Totally not screaming internally.
"I'm not selfish," he whispered to himself, like that would make it true.
But Naruto had called him out.
"You're not fighting Yomi because you want to stop them. You're fighting them because you want to beat them. You want to be king, not a comrade."
Ryuto had tried to deny it.
But the truth had come out, like an overripe peach exploding in a kid's lunchbox.
He had broken Naruto. Not through skill or technique—but by threatening the people he cared about. That was how he'd forced him to submit. And the worst part? It worked.
Naruto had refused to join him. So Ryuto had knocked him out cold.
Just like that.
One punch.
Bam.
And somehow… it hadn't felt good.
Kenichi had even tried to rekindle their old friendship.
"We promised to get strong together, remember?"
Ryuto had shrugged him off like an uncomfortable memory. Told him power was the only thing that didn't betray him.
He stared at his hand again. Trembling just a little. Ki flowed through it, calm and loyal.
"This power… it won't lie to me," he said to himself. "It won't leave me."
But the car was too quiet. And his words echoed back like a lie.
The car rolled into the underground garage of the new Ragnarok HQ—a sleek, ominous tower that looked like it was designed by the final boss of a cyberpunk video game.
Ryuto stepped out slowly. His team saluted. He didn't answer.
He was still stuck on Naruto's final words:
"You're strong, Odin. But you're lonely. And one day, all that power you worship? It won't save you."
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Ryuto Asamiya—aka Odin, martial artist, gang boss, and part-time existential crisis sufferer—was pacing in his shiny office like a stressed-out CEO about to lose a major client.
Except the "client" was Naruto Uzumaki.
And the "deal" was how to not get his face turned into a waffle during their inevitable rematch.
He'd already ruled out threatening Naruto's friends. That tactic worked once, but it felt… gross. Like stepping on a puppy and then realizing the puppy was actually a small dragon in disguise who was now out for blood and honor.
So, yeah. Time to rethink strategy.
"Forget all this honor nonsense," he muttered. "How do I actually win?"
Because make no mistake—Naruto was coming for him. The guy fought like he was mainlining spirit energy and eating optimism for breakfast. And at the rate he was growing, he'd probably sprout wings by next Tuesday.
Odin had Ki. He also had spirit energy, the kind of stuff you're not supposed to be able to wield unless you've stared into the soul of the universe and said, 'Nah, I'm good.'
So, theoretically, he had an edge.
Theoretically.
And then—like a ninja ghost summoned by regret and looming dread—Master Isshinsai Ogata appeared.
Poof.
No sound.
Just… there.
Like he materialized out of the guilt cloud swirling above Ryuto's head.
"RYUTO," Ogata said, in that deceptively calm tone that sounded like your grandpa offering you cookies laced with moral decay.
The man was tall—taller than Ryuto remembered—and looked like a wandering monk who moonlighted as a final boss. Long lilac-gray hair flowed behind him. His face was serene, peaceful even. But his eyes? His eyes said, 'I once made a child cry just by walking past him. On purpose.'
"Oh good," Ryuto said dryly. "You did sneak into my office like a horror movie ghost."
Ogata gave a small, polite smile. The kind of smile people give right before suggesting ritual combat.
"You seem troubled. Is it that boy's potential?"
Ryuto sighed.
He knew exactly what his master was poking at. Not physically—thankfully—but metaphorically. Like sticking a finger into a fresh bruise.
"You're talking about that technique again, aren't you?"
Ogata remained motionless, like a statue of regret carved out of smug granite. "The fusion technique. Spirit and Ki Roar as One. You've refused it before."
"Because it could turn me into a cripple. Or worse, vaporize my soul and leave a very attractive corpse. I like my soul where it is, thanks."
"A fair concern," Ogata said, nodding. "But great warriors must walk the edge of death."
Ryuto stared at him.
"Could you not sound like a villain for five seconds?"
Ogata chuckled. It was the kind of chuckle that told you he'd tested fatal pressure points on himself just for fun.
He didn't force his students to do anything.
He just offered them options. Crazy, dangerous, universe-breaking options. Then waited. Watched. Studied. Like some evil scientist disguised as a monk.
Ryuto knew exactly how this went. His master loved martial arts more than food, family, or oxygen. Testing lethal techniques on willing maniacs wasn't a job for him—it was a hobby.
Still…
Still.
That technique was tempting. The idea of merging Ki and Spirit into one harmonized wave of destruction was ridiculous. Like mixing fire and lightning to create plasma. Theoretically impossible. Practically? Potentially god-tier.
But also: 90% chance of spontaneously combusting.
So Ryuto, wisely, said: "No thanks. I'll just… you know… get in touch with the Mage Association. Find a spellcaster. Learn some magic. Like a normal, overachieving martial artist with supernatural issues."
Ogata gave another one of those smiles. "As you wish."
There was something disgustingly patient in that expression. Like he already knew Ryuto would try it one day, when the stakes were high enough.
But for now, Ryuto would take the safe route. Or at least, the "slightly less suicidal" route.
Then Ogata said something that chilled the room:
"This Naruto. He's using Spirit energy. But soon, he will awaken Ki too. Then he'll have both."
Ryuto froze.
Oh no.
Ogata's gaze gleamed like a scholar who'd just discovered a new species of martial artist.
"Perhaps, if he's strong enough… I might offer him the technique as well."
That did it.
Ryuto's jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed.
This wasn't just about winning anymore.
If Naruto mastered both Spirit and Ki, and then got access to Ogata's insane hybrid technique?
Ryuto wouldn't just lose.
He'd be obsolete.
"...He's not ready for it," Ryuto muttered. "He doesn't even understand what it means to give everything up for power."
Ogata was already gone. Like he'd never been there.
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Okay, so I've had better naps.
Waking up in a mental world with a giant dragon glaring at you like you forgot to feed him tacos? Not ideal.
Still, it beat the alternative, which was being awake in the real world… where my ribs felt like they'd been used as drumsticks in a rock concert hosted by a Norse god with anger issues.
I opened my eyes to the all-too-familiar blue flame void that existed somewhere in my brainspace. Standing (or hovering?) in front of me was the one and only Ddraig—giant red dragon, ancient legendary being of destruction, and also my new roommate.
"We would have won," Ddraig grumbled, "if we had just one more minute."
I stretched my mental neck and flopped backward onto the invisible floor. "Mhm. Totally. One more minute. Also maybe if I had an extra spine, titanium skin, and a dozen clones who knew kung fu."
Ddraig crossed his wings like he was trying not to look too offended.
"You're underestimating yourself."
"Nope. Just being realistic." I sat up and gave him a grin. "The fight was already good enough. Honestly? Odin was holding back. He dragged it out. Probably wanted to make a point or something dramatic like that."
Ddraig blinked. "You know he held back?"
I nodded. "Yeah. His ki blasts? They could've turned my insides into soup. Like, Naruto Ramen Surprise. Instead, I just got a couple fractured bones and some internal bleeding. That's, like, a win."
"Aren't you in pain?" Ddraig asked.
His tone had gone from grumbly dragon sensei to worried big brother, which was weird but kinda nice. We'd been stuck together for three days now—talking, training, him screaming at me about control and me pretending to listen.
I shrugged.
"You should know I've had worse. Sasuke tried to kill me once. Actually, like… really tried. Chidori straight to the chest. Boom. Lights out."
Ddraig went silent. Which is saying something, because dragons are usually very not silent.
"Compared to that," I said with a smile that was maybe a little too real, "this? This is like a really painful massage."
That got a low rumble of laughter out of him. Victory.
Still, I wasn't dumb. That fight hurt. Not just my body, but my pride, my heart. I'd given it my all, and Odin still won. But I wasn't sad about it. Because it was part of the plan.
"Luckily," I said, "it went exactly how I wanted."
"You wanted to get your ribs broken?" Ddraig asked.
"No, I wanted him to win—so he'd feel like he's in control. So we could push him later when it counts."
Ddraig tilted his massive head. "You're playing the long game?"
I nodded. "We'll beat him eventually. Then we'll make him keep his promise. Winner rules. And maybe we influence him along the way. This guy… he reminds me of Sasuke."
"Another one of your… emotionally unstable friends?"
"Yup." I leaned back again and stared up at the dark mental sky. "Same thing—afraid of bonds. Trusts only in power. It's in how he talks, how he fights, how he avoids eye contact like emotions are contagious."
"You're surprisingly observant for someone who once confused an illusion for a dessert stand."
"Hey, that mirage was very convincing," I shot back.
Ddraig chuckled again, but then he went serious. Like, dragon-serious. The kind of serious that makes you feel like you're standing in front of a flaming mountain of wisdom and judgment.
"You know… you're a good leader, Naruto."
I blinked. "What?"
"You took the hits knowing you would lose. Because if you had surrendered, your friends would've lost faith. Some might've even joined Odin. But you stood. Fought. Bled. And now? They still believe in you."
I stared at him for a long second. My throat felt tight. I didn't know what to say to that.
Compliments were weird.
I wasn't used to them being real.
"I, uh… thanks," I mumbled.
"Just stating facts," Ddraig said. "You've already won more than you realize."
I grinned, trying not to get misty-eyed in front of a spirit dragon.
"Losing a battle doesn't worry me," I said, regaining my swagger. "If I can gain something from it and live through it, I call that a win."
And it was a win. Even if my bones disagreed.
Because during that fight—I'd unlocked something new.
"We've got Ki now," I told him. "Not just spirit energy. I'm close to creating chakra again. Ki + spirit + ramen-fueled determination equals me becoming a total powerhouse."
Ddraig's eyes gleamed with pride. Or maybe that was just how dragons looked when they were excited. Either way, it felt good.
"With a month or two of Ryozanpaku training, I'll be stronger than Odin," I said. "And when that happens…"
I closed my eyes, the image of Odin flashing in my mind—his cold eyes, that desperate hunger for power.
"I'll give him the push he needs. I'll make him change. And when I do… I'll be ready for Sasuke too."
Ddraig rumbled approvingly.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But I knew this much:
I wasn't done yet.
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If anyone told Naruto that one day he'd be bleeding out in a helicopter, carried like a broken burrito across the sky while his friends cried and one of them literally had broken limbs but still stood guard like a discount anime Batman, he would've laughed.
Okay, no. He would've said, "Believe it!" because branding matters. Then he'd have laughed.
But yeah—Naruto wasn't laughing now. Mostly because he was unconscious.
On the outside, he looked like a really messed-up action figure someone had tried to microwave. Arms? Broken. Legs? Fractured. Ribs? Cracked like eggshells. Inside? He was bleeding so badly his organs were probably playing Marco Polo with each other.
The only thing keeping him alive was the weird miracle fusion of spirit energy and the newly awakened Ki that pulsed through him like a defibrillator made of willpower and sheer Naruto-ness.
Inside the helicopter, the mood was… well, "grim" would be putting it nicely.
Honoka, Naruto's best friend's little sister, had finally stopped crying. Which was good. Because crying too much in a chopper could probably cause dehydration and also made it hard to yell at the pilot to go faster.
Now she sat silently next to Naruto, hands clutched, head bowed, whispering prayers that bounced between divine hope and vague threats like:
"If you die, I swear I'll punch your ghost."
Beside her sat Kenichi, the Mightiest Disciple himself. Except right now, he looked more like the Mightiest Mummy. His arms were in makeshift slings, his legs bandaged, his face pale with pain even after painkillers.
"I've had better training days," he muttered.
"You mean like that time Akisame threw you into a waterfall to teach you about gravity?" Shogo—aka Berserker—said from the opposite seat.
"...Point taken."
Shogo, surprisingly alert for a guy with the word Berserker in his title, was scanning the skies like the world's angriest hawk. Even though there were trained guards aboard with fancy rifles and very serious expressions, he wasn't taking chances.
And then there was Kyoichi Kaname—a.k.a. Loki—who looked like he should be cackling madly or scheming in a corner. But no. Loki was perfectly calm. Too calm.
"Relax," Kaname said, not looking up from a pocket mirror he was using to fix his hair. "We're almost at Ryozanpaku. Akisame-sensei will fix Naruto up like a broken puzzle box with a user manual."
The others exchanged glances that said, This guy is a lunatic.
And then—
The air shifted.
Like something dark just exhaled.
From above, Dohnaseek, the "Battle Fiend" fallen angel from Grigori, descended with all the grace of a villain monologuing to his reflection. His black wings stretched wide, his eyes locked on Naruto's body like a starving vulture spotting an injured rabbit on a buffet table.
"Perfect," he whispered, raising his spear of light. "The brat's unconscious. I'll explode the chopper and grab him in the chaos. Raynare will praise me for sure—"
WHAM.
Suddenly, Dohnaseek was no longer there.
Instead, he was a blur sailing through the air like a home-run baseball that got smacked by a deity.
He crashed miles away into a mountain. Birds flew. Trees shook. Some squirrels considered changing religions.
Back in the sky, everyone stared.
Well, except Sakaki Shio, the man responsible for that god-level punch, who just stood atop the Ryozanpaku Dojo's roof, 20 miles away, casually shaking his hand.
"Hmph," he grunted. "Held back too much."
Sakaki, world-renowned Karate Master and proud member of the "Punch First, Philosophize Never" school of thought, had just launched a wind punch across twenty miles to send a very angry angel to next Tuesday.
Why?
Because someone messed with his student.
Also, because he could.
"Next time," he muttered to himself, "I'll aim lower."
But he wouldn't. Because just off to the side, an old man with a thousand muscles and a smile so innocent it had to be illegal stood sipping tea.
Hayato Fūrinji, the man known as The Invincible Superman, raised a brow.
"Now now, Shio. We don't crush students' enemies. We guide. Influence. Gently."
Sakaki twitched. He's in my head again, he thought.
Hayato didn't say anything. But that glint in his eyes said: Yes, I am. And I'm smiling about it.
Sakaki sighed and turned back toward the dojo. Dohnaseek would live. On purpose. Not because Sakaki had mercy. But because the kids needed enemies to fight. If adults handled all the messes, the students would never grow.
Even if it meant letting a homicidal flying angel go free.
"Azazel's getting a strongly worded complaint," he muttered.
Back in the helicopter, Kenichi blinked.
"What just happened?!"
Shogo cracked his neck. "Someone tried to interrupt our dramatic medical emergency. Got booted to next week."
Kaname smirked. "Told you Akisame was the only thing we needed to worry about."
Honoka looked down at Naruto's face.
He stirred. Just a little.
And—somewhere deep inside—the faintest smile flickered on his lips.
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In a mansion that didn't technically belong to her—but which she now claimed with all the confidence of someone who'd never paid rent in her life—Raynare lounged in a stolen velvet chair, sipping blood-red wine that was probably actual wine and not some dramatic magic potion. Probably.
The mansion had once belonged to a human millionaire, but after a few well-placed hypnosis spells (and a suggestive smile), he now lived under a bridge feeding pigeons and praising his "celestial goddess." Tragic, really.
In front of Raynare floated a shimmering magic orb, glowing ominously, projecting the real-time events unfolding above Japan like the universe's darkest Netflix special.
The camera angle? Courtesy of dark magic surveillance drones. The audience? Three very smug fallen angels.
Raynare, Kalawarna, and Mittelt.
If you were wondering what evil Powerpuff Girls looked like, this was it:
Kalawarna: Silent, statuesque, and very into her leather boots.
Mittelt: Tiny, loud, and had enough sarcasm stored in her body to make a dragon roll its eyes.
Raynare: Graceful. Deadly. Smiled like a queen but stabbed like a viper.
And all of them? Unshakably arrogant.
"So," Mittelt said, legs swinging off the armrest of a very expensive couch she did not own, "how many brain cells did Dohnaseek lose before deciding that was a good idea?"
Kalawarna didn't answer. She just sipped her tea.
"Like, seriously," Mittelt went on. "I get it. Naruto's out cold. Everyone's busy crying or bleeding or being dramatic. But trying to explode a helicopter in Ryozanpaku airspace? Did he hit his head on his halo before falling?"
"He doesn't have a halo," Kalawarna said quietly. "That was kind of the point of falling."
"Ugh, semantics."
Raynare didn't say a word. She just watched.
In the orb, the scene replayed: Dohnaseek, in all his edgy, dark-feathered glory, swooping toward Naruto like a vulture in a Shakespearean tragedy.
Then—BOOM.
Punched. Out of the sky.
By a karate man from twenty miles away.
The orb showed Dohnaseek spiraling like a plucked chicken straight into a mountain.
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A.N. I hope you guys can leave a review for the story till this chapter. How was it?