The body lay still.
The great Third Raikage—once thought to be an immovable wall of might and fury—now lay lifeless, crumpled on the scorched battlefield. His neck twisted grotesquely, lightning chakra still crackling faintly around his cooling corpse.
A heavy silence gripped the land.
Hundreds of shinobi stood frozen mid-step, eyes locked wide onto the scene. They had seen many things in this endless war—blood, death, slaughter—but nothing like this.
"Th-that's… that's not possible…" one Iwagakure jonin stammered, his voice barely escaping his lips.
"He killed the Raikage… with one hand?" a Hidden Cloud ANBU whispered, eyes trembling, jaw slack with disbelief.
A young Kumo jonin took a trembling step back.
"W-we didn't even see him move…" he whispered, barely audible.
Another, a Chuunin from Iwagakure, stammered:
"D-did… did the Raikage really… just…"He couldn't finish. The rest of his sentence died in his mouth.
One older shinobi from Hidden Stone dropped his kunai with a soft metallic clink, his fingers no longer able to grip the handle.
Onoki, floating above the scene, felt his heart lurch in his chest.The Third Tsuchikage had fought gods and devils, had seen war reshape the continent. He had stood against the Uchiha, against Hanzo, and others in his long life.
But this—
This was different.
His aged eyes were wide with disbelief. His lungs felt tight. For a moment, he forgot to even breathe.
"I… didn't even register the moment of contact…" Ōnoki muttered.
"What… the hell… are we up against?" He said under his breath, his voice cracked, aged, and genuinely afraid.
He turned slowly toward the remnants of his troops, watching as many of them involuntarily stepped back from the colossus named Radahn.The same man who now stood calmly with his arm lowered, golden eyes still glowing with uncanny intensity. He hadn't moved a muscle since the kill.
'The Raikage charged with everything he had… and it didn't even make him blink' Onoki whispered, more to himself than to anyone.
Nearby, the Two-Tails jinchūriki swallowed hard. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts. The beast inside her stirred uneasily, pressing against the seal, uncertain.
She wiped a cold sweat from her forehead, her knees nearly buckling.
"What kind of monster stands still… and lets a Kage hit him at full speed?" a Hidden Cloud medic whispered, horrified.
More shinobi began to take instinctive steps back, their sense of pride broken, their belief in overwhelming force shattered.
They had brought armies, jutsu, a Tailed Beast, and two Kage.
But right now, it no longer felt like they were the ones in control.
-----------------------------------
Hundreds of shinobi — hardened warriors from both Iwagakure and Kumogakure — stood still, eyes fixed on the corpse of the Third Raikage lying twisted and broken on the ground like a discarded puppet. Blood pooled beneath his massive frame. The ground itself seemed to reject the body, unable to comprehend that such a legend had fallen so quickly — so easily.
Gasps came late.
Whispers failed to form into words.
Hands trembled. Mouths hung agape. Sweat poured from brows that had never known fear until now.
Even the Two-Tails' jinchūriki stood motionless, her chakra flickering like a candle in the wind. She had felt fear before — but never like this. Deep within her mind, the beast inside stirred violently, hissing:
'T-That thing… what is that monster?! That's no shinobi! That's not human!'
Meanwhile, Onoki stood frozen, his eyes narrowed, mind racing behind his furrowed brow. The death of the Raikage — someone not even the average army could slow down — had sent a ripple through everything. And yet… something clung to his thoughts.
'No… he's powerful. Inhumanly so. But not untouchable. That kind of strength must burn energy like wildfire. He's holding back… but even then, there must be limits. There must be.'
His eyes darted to the Two-Tails, to the hundreds of elite soldiers at his back.
'We outnumber him. We have a tailed beast on our side. And I…'
Onoki's fists clenched.
'I still possess my trump card. If I can just get in range…'
With heavy steps, the aged Tsuchikage marched forward, dust crunching under his sandals.
Then — with a sudden flare of chakra — he planted his foot firmly into the dirt and bellowed:
"EVERYONE!!!"
The shout cracked like thunder across the battlefield, snapping the shinobi from their stupor. Every head turned toward the small, aged figure standing tall — voice filled with absolute conviction.
"DO YOU THINK HE'S A GOD?!""HE'S ONE MAN!"
The shinobi of Iwa and Kumo stiffened, their fingers tightening around weapons, their jaws clenching as the words sunk in.
"WE LOST A HERO TODAY—BUT HE DIES FOR NOTHING IF WE STAND HERE TREMBLING!"
A tremor of rage passed through the assembled forces.
Onoki took a deep breath and then — with a powerful burst of chakra — shot into the air, his body levitating as he rose high above the field. Floating among the smoke and light, his robes fluttered in the wind like a war banner.
"I'M GIVING THE ORDER!""EVERYONE, CHARGE! ALL UNITS, ATTACK TOGETHER!""WE'LL BRING HIM DOWN!"
The shinobi below roared in unison. The fear was not gone — but it was buried under their hatred, their loyalty, their belief in numbers, and the pain of loss. Chakra surged through the ranks as dozens, then hundreds, began to run forward.
"FOR THE RAIKAGE!""FOR IWAGAKURE!""FOR OUR HOMES!"
Kunai glinted. Hands flew into seals. Elemental jutsu ignited the sky.
Onoki floated high above it all, and with a final growl, began to form his most deadly technique.
"He may be strong-" he muttered under his breath,
"but if I land even one Particle Style… not even he can survive that."
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then, like a dam breaking, the battlefield exploded with motion and fury.
From the cracked frontlines of the shattered Konohagakure barricade, a thunderous war cry erupted from hundreds of shinobi, echoing across the valley like a primal roar from hell itself.
"CHARGE!!""FOR THE RAIKAGE!!""FOR IWA AND KUMO!!"
They surged forward like a black tide — shinobi clad in Kumo's dark armor and Iwa's brown-and-red war gear. Their eyes were filled with bloodlust, their hands brimming with deadly chakra. Earth shattered under their feet as they leapt across the broken battlefield. Lightning sparked. Dust jutsu roared. Wind blades and fireballs flared into existence.
At the frontline, the Two-Tails' jinchūriki blazed forward, cloaked in wild blue chakra flames. Her feline tails lashed behind her, leaving scorch marks in her wake. The beast within her snarled with anticipation — feral chakra warping the ground beneath her steps.
Beside her soared Onoki, The Fence-Sitter, the Tsuchikage himself. But there was no hesitation in him now. His old eyes burned with a hatred reserved only for legends.
With his hands forming quick signs for his most feared technique — the Particle Style — he moved as fast as his weary bones could carry him, chakra flaring with intensity that warped the air.
Behind them came the flood — elite Jōnin, seasoned Chūnin, and furious Genin, all drunk on vengeance and rage. The ground shook beneath their march, a thunder of sandals against the scorched battlefield.
But Radahn did not move.
He stood like a statue beneath the dull Gray sky, crimson cloak whipping around his enormous figure like a flag of war. The earth trembled from the charge — but not he. He simply watched them come, a god awaiting a storm he did not fear.
Then, slowly, his arms rose.
One massive hand folded across the other — crossing before his chest like iron gates sealing shut.
The two Greatswords beside him, each buried deep into the broken soil, began to vibrate.
A deep hum filled the air — not heard, but felt, like the prelude to an earthquake.
And then—
BOOM!
With an invisible pull of gravitational force, the two colossal blades were ripped from the ground, metal shrieking as they shot toward him.
They didn't simply fly — they tore through the battlefield, chunks of earth trailing behind them as if reality itself was being unstitched. Debris scattered, lesser weapons spun into the air, and several shinobi closest to him stumbled, clutching their chests as gravity itself pressed upon their lungs.
The swords slammed into his hands with a thunderclap, the air cracking from the sudden stop.
Radahn stood tall, arms still crossed — and now, in each hand, he held a titanic blade, both taller than most men.
Then he began to move.
Slowly… deliberately…
He uncrossed his arms, the twin Greatswords grinding against one another as they parted.
The screeching sound of their massive steel edges scraping echoed like two mountains colliding. Purple arcs of lightning danced between the blades — a violent storm barely caged within iron.
As his arms fully opened, the twin blades settled outward in an imposing stance — and then came the wind.
A violent burst of pressure exploded outward from Radahn's position.
It wasn't chakra.
It wasn't a jutsu.
It was simply the result of his presence expanding into combat — the sheer power radiating from him taking form in the air itself. A brutal gust of wind tore across the battlefield, scattering loose rocks, ripping grass from the earth, and flinging several onrushing shinobi off their feet.
Even more devastating — the lifeless body of the Third Raikage, which had lain still in the bloodied earth where Radahn had slain him, was caught in the blast. It was hurled across the battlefield like a broken doll, limbs flopping, armor scraping as he bounced and rolled until his massive frame finally crashed into the ruins of a shattered wall with a dull thud.
A collective gasp spread through the enemy ranks.
Some stopped running.
Others flinched as the shockwave passed through them, clothes whipping wildly and weapons rattling in their scabbards.
But Onoki did not stop. His eyes were wide with disbelief, yes, but also focus.
And the Two-Tails kept moving, chakra flaring brighter, snarling in a voice layered with the beast's.
Radahn hadn't taken a step.
But now…
He would.
His golden eyes burned like stars beneath the dark clouds.