"WE WILL NOT BACK DOWN!"
"OUR HOS ARE BEHIND US!"
"IF WE DON'T FIGHT, WHO WILL PROTECT OUR PARENTS? OUR CHILDREN?"
"BRING HIM DOWN!"
"FIGHT WITH YOUR LIVES!"
"BET ON OUR NINJA WAY! OUR WILL!"
The Iwa and Suna forces, whipped into a frenzy by their own rhetoric and the desperate courage of a few, had transford their fear into a burning, sacrificial rage. A demoralized army loses, but a force united by a powerful, shared conviction—even one born of desperation—can overco terrifying odds. This was the ninja way, they told themselves. This was their purpose.
Chiyo looked upon her revitalized troops, a grim satisfaction replacing her earlier dread. Last ti, I ran from Rakshasa. This ti, facing this… this 'god'… I will not flee. Her son, Akahoshi, had proven himself, had ignited this fire. She was proud, even in the face of annihilation.
Akahoshi himself swelled with emotion. He had finally earned his mother's recognition on the grandest, most terrible stage.
The Iwa ninja, infected by the Suna's fervor, thought of their own villages. Why had they co to this miserable Land of Rain? To seize resources, to ensure a better future for Iwagakure, to beco heroes hailed by their descendants. To retreat before a single enemy, no matter how monstrous, would betray that dream. It would betray the very title of 'shinobi.'
"YES! THIS IS THE SPIRIT OF IWA!" Onihira's voice bood, stoking the flas higher. "DOWN WITH KONOHA!"
"DOWN WITH KONOHA!"
The chant beca a roar, a unified cry of hatred that washed over the muddy field. If the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, the man who had dread of peace and given away the Tailed Beasts, could hear this, he would have been apoplectic. You started this war! And now you paint us as the villains?
Konoha, the village that had pioneered treaties and preached mutual prosperity, was now cast as the ultimate enemy. The irony was bitter enough to taste.
"Hmph. Fools."
"Ignorant cattle."
On the distant hill, Madara watched the spectacle with utter contempt. "At the first Five Kage Summit, if it had been , I would have made them kneel. All Tailed Beast allocations would be mine. Tribute would flow to Konoha yearly, or their villages would be ash." The mory of Hashirama's naive diplomacy still rankled. Giving power to such insects was an invitation to chaos.
"What Lord Madara says is true," Black Zetsu chid in smoothly. "Their capacity for self-deception is quite a skill." He knew the tangled truth behind every conflict. Seeing this passionate display from the aggressors was darkly amusing.
On the Konoha side, the reaction was a mix of outrage and cold analysis.
"The sheer gall!" Tsunade spat.
"This is human nature, Tsunade," Orochimaru observed dispassionately. "The final self-comfort of the weak, dressing up their aggression as noble sacrifice."
"Regardless of their justifications," Hatake Sakumo cut in, his voice steadying his forces, "we have our own bonds to protect. Our own hos. Our own Will of Fire. Stand firm! Victory will be ours!"
His gaze found the colossal golden Buddha at the center of the maelstrom. Ragnar… the weight is on you now. But we are here. We are your foundation.
"ATTACK!"
The Suna forces moved as one. Not just the jonin now, but every chunin within range joined the assault. Kunai and shuriken were drawn back and released in a single, synchronized motion. Thousands of gleaming tal projectiles filled the air, a lethal cloud darkening the sky—a volley of ten thousand arrows aid at a single, massive target.
Faced with this, Ragnar, nestled within the Buddha's chest, rely raised an eyebrow. The corners of his lips curled in a faint, disdainful arc.
"A tireso display."
The Golden Buddha's single free hand—the one not held in a mudra—casually clapped.
Not against the projectiles. Just a clap in the empty air.
CLAP—BOOM!
The sound was a thunderclap that preceded a visible shockwave. The air in front of the Buddha's palm compressed into a solid wall of force and surged forward.
The thousand shuriken and kunai t this invisible barrier. For one impossible second, they hung in mid-air, frozen as if trapped in amber—a glittering, deadly tapestry suspended before the golden god.
Then, with a sound like shattering glass, they all disintegrated simultaneously. Not deflected. Not lted. They simply shattered into tallic dust that rained down harmlessly.
Ragnar willed the Buddha to take a single, earth-shaking step forward.
CRUNCH!
The ground beneath its colossal foot caved in, fissures radiating out like a spider's web. A localized earthquake rattled the battlefield.
"AHHH!"
"WHAT'S HAPPENING?!"
Panic surged through the ranks again.
But the commanders scread for order. "NINJUTSU! ALL TOGETHER! NOW!"
"FIRE RELEASE: DRAGON FIRE SONG!"
"FIRE RELEASE: GREAT FIREBALL!"
"FIRE RELEASE: FIRE DRAGON BULLET!"
"WIND RELEASE: WIND BLADES!"
"WIND RELEASE: AIR-CUTTING WAVE!"
"EARTH RELEASE: EARTH-SPEAR JAVELIN!"
Hundreds of techniques, from grand A- and B-rank assaults to simpler C-rank barrages, were unleashed in a single, chaotic, desperate wave. The sky beca a kaleidoscope of roaring fla, slicing wind, and jagged stone, a storm of annihilation aid at the silent golden giant.
Within the Buddha, Ragnar's mind was a lake of perfect, icy calm. The Daibutsu fruit didn't just grant a giant body; it elevated the user's spirit and intellect to a state of近乎神性的理性—divine rationality. He was, in this form, a being of perfect mind and imnse power. A true god of war, viewing the frantic struggles of mortals with detached, analytical clarity.
As the tidal wave of ninjutsu crested before him, about to crash down, he acted.
"Great Buddha… Shockwave."
The Buddha's massive fist, which had been resting in its lap, clenched. The sound was the grinding of golden continents. It drew back, then punched—not at the ninjutsu, but straight forward, into the space between itself and the oncoming storm.
BOOOOOOM—!!!
The fist didn't travel far. It stopped after a few ters. But the air it displaced did not.
A visible sphere of compressed, concussive force blasted forth from its knuckles. It t the leading edge of the elental barrage.
Fire dragons were snuffed out as if pinched between divine fingers. Wind blades shattered into harmless gusts. Stone spears powdered into gravel. The Shockwave erased everything in its path, a bubble of nullification expanding outward.
It didn't stop at neutralizing the ninjutsu. It continued, its force barely diminished, and slamd into the front ranks of the combined Iwa-Suna forces.
THUD-CRUNCH!
Dozens of shinobi were smashed flat, driven into the mud and rock as if struck by a falling mountain. The earth where they stood buckled and sank, leaving a massive, fist-shaped depression in the landscape. The screams were short, choked off by impact.
Just as the survivors thought the cataclysm had passed, a horrific, serene smile touched the lips of the Golden Buddha—mirroring the cold curve on Ragnar's own face within.
The Buddha raised its fist again, this ti high into the air, fingers curling into a mountain-sized hamr.
"Let us… finish this."
The fist plumted.
BOOOOOOM—!!!!!
This impact was different. It wasn't a shockwave; it was a direct, world-ending stomp of divine fury.
The earth didn't just shake. It scread.
A seismic wave rippled outwards, visible in the heaving of the ground. Cracks wide enough to swallow n whole tore across the plain. The very bedrock fractured. The sound was a cacophony of splitting stone, collapsing earth, and the unified, final cry of hundreds of shinobi being erased from existence.
Where the fist landed, a new crater was born, a raw wound in the land of Rain. Dust, steam, and the fading echoes of devastation were all that remained.
The Golden Buddha slowly straightened, its hand returning to its lap, serene once more. The rain, which had ceased in its presence, began again, pattering softly on the glassy, compacted earth of the new crater and the shattered, silent forms around it.
From his divine vantage point, Ragnar looked out over the silence he had wrought.
(End of Chapter)
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