NARUTO: The Saga of Crimson Monarch

The stillness of the night was shattered by the sound of a desperate cry. Shadows emerged from the dense trees surrounding the camp, their silhouettes illuminated faintly by the flickering flames of the dying campfire. Rocks and branches flew through the air, striking tents and carts, jolting the resting group awake.

Kenji was the first to react, already on his feet and gripping his katana. His sharp voice cut through the chaos: "Enemy attack! Get up, everyone!"

The camp was in turmoil. The hired guards stumbled out of their sleeping places, half-awake and disoriented, only to be met with a barrage of crude weapons. Branches and stones clattered against armor and flesh, and the attackers—a ragtag group of malnourished figures—pressed in from all sides.

Kenji fought fiercely, slashing his blade through the air to push back the aggressors. He knocked one down with a kick and plunged his sword into another's chest, blood splattering across the ground. But as the battle raged, three attackers tackled him to the ground, pinning him down.

"Get off me!" Kenji roared, twisting and slashing at their legs. He struggled to his feet and saw a woman standing in the chaos, trembling as she clutched a broken spear. Her frail frame was silhouetted against the firelight, and her wide, desperate eyes locked onto Kenji as she shielded something behind her back.

"What are you protecting?" Kenji spat, raising his katana.

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she braced herself, holding the broken weapon in front of her like a shield. Kenji hesitated for only a moment before charging forward, slashing at her defensively. She parried weakly, the force of his strikes driving her backward.

"Stop struggling!" Kenji shouted, he swung his blade downward in a powerful vertical slash meant to end the fight.

Clang!

Kenji's sword was stopped mid-swing by another blade.

"That's enough," Ares said coldly, his bamboo hat casting a shadow over his unreadable expression. His sword, Abyssal Rapture, shimmered darkly in the firelight as he held Kenji's blade at bay.

"What are you doing Yachi?!" Kenji snarled, his voice filled with fury. "You're helping them, aren't you? You're a traitor!"

Ares didn't reply immediately. Instead, he drove his fist into Kenji's abdomen, forcing the swordsman to double over and collapse to his knees. Kenji coughed and glared up at him with venom in his eyes.

"You... you're with them," Kenji growled, clutching his stomach. "I knew we shouldn't have trusted you. I should have stop Ryogi inviting you!"

Around them, Sato,Yuuto and others stopped their fighting, stunned by what they had just witnessed. Ryogi stood frozen by the cart, trembling as he pointed at Ares. "Y-Yachi... what are you doing? Who... who even are you?"

The air grew tense. Several guards gripped the hilts of their swords, unsure whether to fight or flee.

Ares, ever calm, gestured toward the woman. "Look at her. Look at what she's protecting."

Kenji, still kneeling, turned his head reluctantly. The others followed Ares's lead, their eyes falling on what was behind the woman—a small, malnourished child clinging to her torn clothing. The boy's face was streaked with dirt, and his wide, tear-filled eyes stared defiantly at the armed men around him.

"Don't hurt my okasan!" the boy cried, his small hands clutching her tattered sleeve. "Please! Don't hurt her!" His voice broke into sobs as he buried his face in her side.

The guards froze, their weapons lowering slightly. Ryogi's trembling ceased as his expression turned from fear to shock.

Kenji's grip on his sword faltered, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're... just refugees?"

Ares walked forward slowly, his movements deliberate and unthreatening. He crouched down before the boy, his towering frame shrinking to the child's level.

"Don't worry," Ares said softly, his voice low and soothing. "No one's going to hurt you or your okasan."

The boy sniffled, his wide eyes looking up at Ares. "Y-You promise?"

"I promise," Ares replied. He gently wiped the tears from the boy's face with his thumb. Ely fly closer,

The woman, still holding her broken weapon, watched in silence as Ares stood and turned to face the others. "These are not your enemies. Look at their clothes—dirty, tattered. Look at their bodies—weak, malnourished. These people are not fighters. They're survivors."

Ryogi stepped closer, his face pale. "But... why would they attack us?"

"They're desperate," Ares replied. "They have nothing. Likely refugees from the Land of Samurai, trying to protect what little they have left."

The group fell silent, the weight of Ares's words settling over them. Slowly, the guards lowered their weapons, the hostility in the air dissipating.

Kenji stood, still gripping his sword tightly. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he saw Ares kneel by the woman and child.

A soft light blue chakra from Ares's hands as he placed them gently on the woman's shoulder. The warmth spread across her body, her shallow breathing evening out as her wounds began to heal.

The guards stared in shock.

"What... what is that power?" Yuuto whispered.

"Is he... a monk?" another murmured.

Kenji's knuckles whitened around his sword. He couldn't bring himself to speak, his pride and confusion warring inside him.

Ares stood, his calm gaze sweeping over the group. "Now you see the truth. Not every fight is one you should take up. Sometimes, strength lies in understanding and restraint."

Ryogi stepped forward hesitantly, scratching the back of his head. "Well, uh... I suppose we should help them. Right, Kenji?"

Kenji remained silent for a moment before finally sheathing his sword. "Do what you want," he muttered, walking away to stand watch at the edge of the camp.

As the group worked to help the refugees, Ares remained silent, his thoughts distant. Ely perched on his shoulder once more.

"You should rest My Liege" she said softly.

"No Ely," Ares replied, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

The boy's voice broke the quiet. "Thank you, Aniki " he said, clinging to his mother's side.

Ares nodded, his expression unreadable. "Rest now. The road ahead will not be easy—for any of us."