The iconic TMNT comic of the century makes a comeback—check it out!

In October 2020, a fresh spin on the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles universe emerged, captivating fans with a unique narrative. Fast forward six years, and this bestselling limited series has been transformed into a gritty noir novel, with an exclusive sneak peek available.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Last Ronin follows the journey of the last surviving Ninja Turtle, who is on a quest for vengeance against the grandson of the Shredder, now ruling a crime-infested New York City in the future. The concept originated in the late 1980s from TMNT co-creators Kevin Eastman and Peter Laird, with Eastman rediscovering their notes in the late 2010s.

Eastman teamed up with Tom Waltz, a long-time collaborator on the ongoing TMNT series, to craft a five-part comic illustrated by the Escorza Brothers and TMNT veteran Ben Bishop. The result was a groundbreaking series that took the fandom by storm. Now, Erik Burnham, a seasoned TMNT comic writer, has adapted this series into a novel, with the Escorza Brothers contributing new artwork. Here’s an exclusive look at the novel, which is now available.

Excerpt from

Tap the right side to turn the page ›

A familiar clank echoes from all directions, sending an unsettling chill down his spine.

It’s a sound he hasn’t heard in years, not since the loss of his family. The ominous approach of mousers. A wave of dread washes over him. Moving feels like wading through molasses as the rhythmic clank-clank-clank intensifies. The floor vibrates beneath him, and he senses the swarm before he sees it, recalling the metallic jaws that once wreaked havoc in his past: two-legged automatons ripping limbs from bodies, leaving tendons dangling like wet ropes. Each one a mechanical shark attack.

Ronin draws his tonfa and assumes a fighting stance, his knees creaking.

A horde of chihuahua-sized robots bursts through the shelves, jaws clanking, metal teeth glinting. Books fly from their perches like startled birds. For a moment, he’s frozen in place. Something’s off. The robots are descending upon him from above, an impossible attack formation.

“These mousers can fly, you gotta move!”

A blinding light flashes. A concentrated heat blast singes his elbow. He dives to the floor, rolling out of the way as energy pockets explode around him. Pain erupts in his left shoulder as it grazes the energy pulse. His mind races, recalling upgraded weapon systems and laser beams. Stockman has been busy. The atrium looms behind him, a perilous drop into open space. He can’t let the mousers herd him over the edge. He darts toward the stacks, staying low, knees protesting. Beams ricochet off the metal shelves, leaving smoking holes in books. Steel jaws snag the hem of his cloak, shredding the fabric. He ducks behind a row of dusty encyclopedias, back against the leather-bound tomes, and readies his tonfa. He activates hidden switches on both batons. A mouser tears through volumes A to J, the smell of oil wafting from its jaws. He flips the switches, unleashing a silent wave of energy from the pulse generators inside the tonfa. An itch forms behind his teeth. Moments later, the clang of metal reverberates through the library as mousers crash to the ground like a hundred dropped bowling balls.

Ronin exhales. One of the fallen mousers rolls to a stop at his feet. He examines its dual spikes, squat limbs, and antenna tail. His gaze shifts to the ceiling. How many more stories are in this cursed tower? Blood seeps from the grazed skin on his shoulder. He pushes himself up with a groan and navigates the stacks. At the end, he finds a cozy reading nook filled with beanbag chairs and stuffed animals. He imagines the tower’s children, the offspring of Foot City’s elite. A security camera watches him from a corner, and he flips it off. Next to a poster, a long bank of floor-to-ceiling windows beckons. He wonders how high he’s climbed and how many more floors remain. He stares at a beanbag chair, contemplating a quick rest. Just a minute or two—

Heavy footsteps echo behind him. Ronin inhales, then exhales. A hulking shadow looms in the glass reflection.

Not good.

He turns to face a cyclopean monster, bipedal with a gorilla-sized body made of synthetic polymer and a single red eye. The lens dilates, assessing Ronin. He scans for vulnerabilities but finds none. His brothers remain silent.

Ronin stows the tonfa and draws his katana, its blade stained with blood. How many foes have fallen before him? How many more await? He feels detached, as if he’s not himself.

The robot charges, its legs moving like pistons, propelling its massive frame toward Ronin. He sidesteps, using the giant’s momentum against it, driving his sword into an armored joint where arm meets torso. The blade glances off the hard polymer. Ronin spins as the machine rushes past. It’s faster. He leans back as a forearm the size of his head narrowly misses him. With both hands on the hilt, he thrusts the sword upward into the armpit. This time, the blade cuts deep.

Sparks fly as the robot staggers, mimicking dizziness.

“You tweaked its balance,” a ghostly voice says. “It’s going down!”

The behemoth reels like a punch-drunk boxer, its flailing arms sweeping board games and stuffed animals off a shelf, metal claws tearing into drywall and shredding a poster of a sleeping squirrel. The red orb’s pupil dilates wildly.

Ronin steps back, lowering his blade. The sight of the hulking mouser self-destructing sends a rush of adrenaline through him.

He glares into the security camera. “Is this the best you got?”

In an instant, the gorilla android regains control and lunges forward with astonishing speed. Ronin’s instincts kick in. He ducks, spins, dodges—but he’s not quick enough. The robot’s heavy arm wraps around his neck, spinning him off his feet. He twirls through the air, feeling the g-forces press against him. His legs dangle like deadweight. His fist collides with polymer, pain shooting up his forearm. The robot barrels toward the windows, holding Ronin tightly. He can’t breathe; its grip constricts his windpipe.

He reaches for the sai, but the robot accelerates like a speeding car. He knows what’s coming. He just can’t believe it. Not when he’s so close.

Glass shatters. The library disappears. Ronin screams into the void as they plunge through the cool night air within Foot City’s protective bubble. Disbelief and regret flood his mind. Blood rushes in his ears.

The curved edge of the canopy looms closer, distorting light in all directions. Ronin glimpses the top of Hiroto’s tower. He was so close to the penthouse. So close to avenging his family.

The robot extends its arm, smashing through the thick tempered glass of the canopy. The impact barely slows their descent as gravity takes hold. Ronin flails desperately. The robot’s grip tightens as they plummet into the West Village. The wind howls in his ears as the ground rushes up to meet them. Buildings seem to sway, bending inward, urging them down faster. Lights flash behind his eyes. His breath is caught in his throat.

Acting on instinct, his hand finds the sai. He pulls it from his belt and stabs blindly into the robot’s armpit once, twice, three times, twisting the blade as he withdraws, tearing into its circuitry. The behemoth spasms, its grip loosening. Ronin kicks free. At least he won’t die in the clutches of one of Stockman’s creations.

His brothers scream in his mind. He apologizes, telling them he tried. The wind becomes a thermal updraft.

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispers.

Then he crashes into the concrete, plunging into darkness.

​​

Excerpt from the new book The Last Ronin: A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Novel by Erik Burnham, featuring interior illustrations by the Escorza Brothers. © 2026 Viacom International Inc. All Rights Reserved. Nickelodeon, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and all related titles, logos, and characters are trademarks of Viacom International Inc. Based on characters created by Peter Laird and Kevin Eastman.

	Polygon Everything you want to know about the next three months in games, movies, TV, and more