The entire landscape of Cloud Thunder Gorge had been fundamentally transformed by the clash between godlike power and the ancient forces of nature. Where towering stone formations had once reached toward the clouds in majestic defiance of gravity, now only crater-pocked ruins remained to mark what had been one of the most spectacular natural wonders in the Land of Lightning.
The artificial moon that hung impossibly in the sky above served as both monument and prison, its massive bulk casting shadows that would persist long after the immediate aftermath of battle had faded into memory. Within that compressed sphere of stone and earth lay one of the most powerful beings in the ninja world, trapped by forces that operated beyond conventional understanding.
"Wait for me here," Nagato instructed Konan with the calm authority of someone who viewed the most complex operations as routine procedures.
His voice carried no trace of fatigue or concern despite the tremendous energies he had just expended. The creation and maintenance of Chibaku Tensei required chakra reserves that would have exhausted most ninja completely, but for someone with the Rinnegan, such techniques were merely tools to be employed as circumstances demanded.
Konan nodded silently, her paper-white features reflecting the kind of absolute trust that could only develop between partners who had shared countless dangers together. She understood that what came next required precision and focus that could not be compromised by additional variables or distractions.
Nagato began to ascend slowly toward the stone sphere, his body moving through the air with the effortless grace that marked all his supernatural abilities. As he approached the artificial satellite's surface, he raised his hand with deliberate purpose, his enhanced perception already identifying the optimal point for penetration.
BANG!
A section of the stone star's surface suddenly began to tremble and crack under the influence of precisely applied force. The gravitational manipulation that had created the sphere could be selectively reversed, allowing for controlled access without compromising the overall integrity of the prison.
Chunks of rock and compressed earth began to fall away from the targeted area, their descent carefully guided to avoid Nagato's position below. The process was both practical and elegant, demonstrating the kind of absolute control that separated true mastery from mere raw power.
As the stone continued to peel away in carefully orchestrated layers, a gap gradually opened in the sphere's surface. The opening revealed the interior space where tremendous pressure had compressed everything into a dense, nearly airless environment. Deep within this artificial cavern, the massive form of the Eight-Tails could be seen pressed against the curved walls that had become its prison.
Nagato entered the gap with unhurried confidence, his movements suggesting someone who felt no concern about entering such a confined space with one of the most dangerous creatures in existence. As he approached the tailed beast's position, however, the creature demonstrated that it retained both consciousness and fighting spirit despite its predicament.
A massive tail, its surface already bloodied from repeated impacts against the stone walls, suddenly lashed out toward the intruder with the kind of desperate fury that marked a trapped predator's final gambit. The appendage moved with surprising speed considering the cramped conditions and the beast's weakened state.
Nagato's response was almost casual in its efficiency. He simply waved his arm with a gesture that might have been used to brush away an annoying insect.
BANG!
The repulsive force that emanated from his movement was precisely calibrated to neutralize the attack without causing unnecessary damage to his target. The Eight-Tails' tail was deflected with such violence that it struck the inner wall of the stone prison with bone-crushing impact, but the creature itself remained essentially intact.
Having demonstrated the futility of resistance, Nagato proceeded to the next phase of his operation. He waved his sleeves in a gesture that seemed almost theatrical, and several black rods materialized in the air before him, their surfaces seeming to absorb light from the surrounding environment.
These were no ordinary weapons—they were manifestations of his will given physical form, designed specifically to disrupt and control chakra flow in ways that conventional restraints could never achieve. Each rod was perfectly balanced and shaped according to principles that went far beyond simple metallurgy.
He placed his palm against one end of the nearest rod, then pushed forward with gentle but irresistible force.
Swish!
Under the influence of carefully applied repulsive energy, the black rods transformed into streaks of light that shot across the confined space with unerring accuracy. Each projectile found its intended target within the Eight-Tails' massive body, penetrating specific chakra points that would ensure maximum control with minimum permanent damage.
The placement was surgical in its precision—each rod was positioned to disrupt a different aspect of the tailed beast's energy circulation while simultaneously providing anchor points for more advanced binding techniques. The knowledge required for such precise targeting spoke to understanding that went far beyond conventional medical or combat training.
Once the rods were properly positioned, Nagato's hands began moving through a complex sequence of seals. The technique that followed was both subtle and overwhelming, designed to forcibly compress the Eight-Tails back into its sealed state within its jinchūriki host.
AHHHHH!
The scream that erupted from the Eight-Tails was unlike anything that had been heard in these mountains for generations. It was a sound of pure agony and frustration, the cry of a being whose fundamental nature was being suppressed by forces it could neither understand nor resist.
The creature's massive body began to contract rapidly, its solid form becoming increasingly translucent as its physical manifestation was forcibly dissolved. The process was both fascinating and horrifying to observe—a demonstration of power that could reshape the very essence of existence itself.
When the transformation was complete, only Killer Bee remained, his unconscious form suspended in the cramped space where a mountain-sized creature had existed moments before. The black rods protruded from his limbs and torso at precisely calculated angles, ensuring that he would remain powerless even if he regained consciousness.
The extraction had been completed with the kind of clinical efficiency that characterized all of Nagato's operations. There was no unnecessary cruelty involved, no sadistic pleasure taken in the process—it was simply another step toward achieving objectives that required the acquisition of specific resources.
Nagato raised his hand toward Killer Bee's motionless form, and the jinchūriki's body immediately began to float upward under the influence of controlled gravitational manipulation. The process was gentle enough to avoid causing additional injury while maintaining absolute control over the prisoner's position and movement.
Leading his captive out through the gap he had created, Nagato emerged from the stone sphere and descended to rejoin Konan on the devastated landscape below. The entire extraction process had been completed with remarkable speed and efficiency, representing the culmination of planning and preparation that had taken years to develop.
Konan observed the unconscious jinchūriki with professional interest, her analytical mind already considering the practical requirements for secure transport and containment. She waved her hand in a fluid gesture, and origami paper began to flow from her position like a living river.
The paper formed itself into restraints that were both elegant and effective, wrapping around Killer Bee's limbs and torso with the kind of precision that spoke to extensive experience in prisoner management. The bindings would prevent any possibility of escape while simultaneously monitoring the captive's vital signs and chakra levels.
"Let's go," Nagato announced with the calm satisfaction of someone who had successfully completed exactly what he had set out to accomplish.
Konan nodded her acknowledgment, and together they began to move away from the ruined landscape that had once been Cloud Thunder Gorge. Their departure was as methodical as their assault had been overwhelming, leaving behind only destruction and a message that would resonate throughout the ninja world.
BANG!
As soon as Nagato had moved beyond the technique's effective range, the stone sphere that hung in the sky began to lose cohesion. Without the constant application of gravitational force to maintain its artificial stability, the compressed matter could no longer hold together against natural forces.
The artificial moon trembled once, twice, and then began to break apart in a spectacular display of falling debris. Massive chunks of stone and earth rained down onto the already devastated landscape below, adding one final layer of destruction to what had been a systematic dismantling of an entire geographical region.
…
In the harsh rocklands of the Land of Earth, another battle was reaching its inevitable conclusion under circumstances that had proven far more challenging than initial intelligence had suggested.
The Five-Tails' chakra that had surrounded Han like a protective shroud finally began to dissipate, the red energy fading like morning mist under the influence of toxins that had gradually overwhelmed even his enhanced physiology. As the tailed beast's power retreated, it revealed the true extent of the damage that had been inflicted over the course of their prolonged confrontation.
Han's hands, which had been steady and powerful throughout decades of combat experience, now showed the distinctive black discoloration that marked the final stages of Sasori's most lethal poisons. The toxins had spread throughout his circulatory system with methodical efficiency, shutting down vital functions one by one until even his legendary endurance could no longer compensate.
"Is this your limit?" Sasori inquired with the kind of clinical detachment that reduced his opponent to nothing more than an interesting test subject.
His voice carried no malice or satisfaction—merely the professional curiosity of someone who had spent decades perfecting his understanding of how various poisons affected different types of physiology. The data he had gathered from this encounter would prove valuable for future operations.
Han attempted to respond, his warrior's pride demanding that he deliver some final defiant statement, but the toxins had already affected his nervous system too severely to allow for coherent speech. His mouth moved soundlessly, frustration visible in his eyes as his body's betrayal prevented him from expressing the thoughts that still burned clearly in his mind.
The battlefield around them told the story of their extended conflict with brutal clarity. What had once been a relatively level rocky clearing was now a devastated wasteland, marked by craters and scattered debris that spoke to the tremendous forces that had been unleashed during their confrontation.
Much of the rubble showed signs of having been subjected to extreme heat, with surfaces melted and reformed in ways that created an almost artistic landscape of destruction. This was clearly Han's work—evidence of steam-based attacks that had operated at temperatures sufficient to alter the very composition of stone and metal.
Scattered among the thermally altered debris were the remains of several puppet constructs, their sophisticated mechanisms torn apart by forces they had never been designed to withstand. Even Sasori's masterful engineering had its limits when confronted with the kind of sustained, high-intensity assault that only a jinchūriki could maintain.
"I should commend you for being able to accomplish this much," Sasori observed with what might have been genuine respect as he surveyed the destruction.
Behind him, even the Third Kazekage puppet—his most prized and powerful creation—showed signs of significant damage. The human puppet's sophisticated systems had been pushed beyond their design specifications, requiring repairs that would take considerable time and resources to complete properly.
Sasori began the process of battlefield cleanup with characteristic efficiency, unfolding a storage scroll and beginning the delicate process of sealing damaged puppets for later restoration. Each construct represented years of accumulated knowledge and craftsmanship, making their preservation a priority even when they had been rendered temporarily inoperable.
"Let's go," he instructed Deidara once the most valuable components had been secured.
Sasori produced a replacement Akatsuki robe from his equipment and donned it with the same methodical precision that characterized all his actions. The garment served both practical and symbolic purposes—maintaining the organization's distinctive appearance while providing storage space for the various tools and materials required for field operations.
Deidara nodded his understanding and reached into his clay pouch, his fingers already working the explosive material into the familiar form of their primary transportation method. Within moments, another large white bird had taken shape, its wings spreading wide enough to carry multiple passengers along with any cargo they might have acquired.
The construct's tail coiled around Han's unconscious form with serpentine grace, securing the valuable prisoner for the journey ahead. The binding was both gentle and absolutely secure, ensuring that their captive would remain safe during transport while eliminating any possibility of escape or rescue.
Both Akatsuki operatives leaped onto the bird's back with practiced ease, their movements speaking to countless similar missions that had taken them across the elemental nations in pursuit of their organization's mysterious objectives. As the clay construct began to rise into the air, they left behind another scene of devastation that would serve as testimony to powers that operated beyond conventional understanding.
…
In another region of the Land of Earth, where sparse forests somehow managed to maintain a precarious existence among the rocky terrain, a very different kind of battle was also reaching its conclusion under circumstances that showcased yet another member of the Akatsuki's unique capabilities.
The woodland that had provided cover for Rōshi's initial defensive efforts was now completely transformed, its natural beauty replaced by the aftermath of a conflict between elemental forces that had never been meant to coexist in such proximity. Where ancient trees had once stood, now only carbonized stumps remained to mark their former presence.
The devastation bore the unmistakable signs of lava-based techniques—entire sections of forest had been reduced to slag and ash by temperatures that could melt steel and stone. But overlaying this thermal destruction was evidence of an even more dramatic transformation that spoke to abilities that went far beyond conventional ninjutsu.
A massive sphere of water had materialized seemingly from nowhere, its dimensions sufficient to encompass most of the remaining forest area. The technique represented such a fundamental alteration of the local environment that it defied every known principle of water manipulation, creating an aquatic habitat in one of the most arid regions of the elemental nations.
Within this artificial ocean, a figure moved with predatory grace that was perfectly adapted to the underwater environment. Kisame's body had undergone a partial transformation that enhanced his already formidable shark-like characteristics, allowing him to move through water with the kind of speed and agility that made him virtually unstoppable in aquatic combat.
"What a troublesome old man," Kisame observed with grudging admiration as he finally came to rest in front of Rōshi's unconscious form.
His smile revealed rows of razor-sharp teeth that had become even more pronounced during his transformation, creating an expression that was genuinely frightening in its predatory intensity. The combination of his completely shark-like facial features and obviously satisfied demeanor created an image that would have terrified most opponents even under normal circumstances.
"But it's finally over," he continued with the satisfaction of someone who had successfully completed a particularly challenging hunt.
The process of returning to his normal appearance was gradual and fascinating to observe. Samehada, which had become so integrated with his body during the transformation that the boundaries between weapon and wielder had become indistinct, slowly separated itself from his flesh and resumed its familiar form as a massive sword.
Kisame's own features began to revert to their usual configuration, though they retained enough shark-like characteristics to mark him as something fundamentally different from ordinary humanity. The transformation had been both practical and symbolic—a demonstration of the deep connection that existed between the former Mist ninja and his legendary weapon.
He formed hand seals with practiced efficiency, and the enormous water sphere that had dominated the landscape began to respond to his commands. The technique that had created this artificial environment was far from simple—it required ongoing chakra investment to maintain such a massive volume of water in defiance of gravity and natural drainage.
CRASH!
The water sphere suddenly collapsed with spectacular force, releasing its contents in a torrent that swept through the remaining forest with the power of a flash flood. Ancient trees that had survived the earlier lava attacks were uprooted and carried away by the deluge, adding one final layer of destruction to the already devastated landscape.
When the waters finally receded, they left behind a transformed environment that bore no resemblance to its original state. What had once been a living forest was now a muddy wasteland marked by scattered debris and the lingering smell of steam that rose from surfaces where superheated rock met the cooling flood waters.
Kisame donned his Akatsuki robe with the same casual efficiency that had characterized his entire approach to the mission, then used Samehada to lift Rōshi's unconscious form and position him across his broad shoulders. The former Four-Tails jinchūriki was completely motionless, overcome by techniques that had turned his greatest strengths against him.
"I wonder if the other teams have finished their battles?" Kisame mused aloud as his gaze fell upon the pale figure that emerged partially from the ground nearby.
Zetsu's distinctive plant-like appearance made him easily recognizable even when he was employing his signature technique for moving undetected through solid matter. His presence indicated that the intelligence network that coordinated Akatsuki operations was functioning with its usual efficiency.
"Nagato and Sasori have both completed their objectives," Zetsu reported with characteristic emotionless precision. "Hidan and Kakuzu are nearly finished as well."
"The Two-Tails jinchūriki is proving unexpectedly difficult to handle," he continued with what might have been amusement coloring his flat delivery.
The observation was particularly noteworthy coming from an organization that had just demonstrated the ability to simultaneously capture multiple tailed beasts across vast distances. Yugito Nii's capabilities as a jinchūriki were clearly exceptional if she could provide meaningful resistance against opponents of Hidan and Kakuzu's caliber.
"Her ability to control her tailed beast is comparable to that of Killer Bee and the late Fourth Mizukage," Zetsu elaborated, providing context that explained the unexpected difficulty.
Perfect jinchūriki were extraordinarily rare throughout the ninja world's history, making encounters with multiple such individuals within a short timeframe statistically remarkable. The fact that the Akatsuki had been able to locate and target so many exceptional hosts spoke to intelligence gathering capabilities that went far beyond what most organizations could achieve.
"But she has no chance of victory against those two immortal monsters," Zetsu concluded with the kind of certainty that came from extensive observation of the combatants involved.
Hidan and Kakuzu represented a unique combination of abilities that made them particularly effective against opponents who relied primarily on direct combat techniques. Their respective forms of immortality created tactical scenarios that few enemies were prepared to handle.
…
In a small town nestled within the mountainous terrain of the Land of Lightning, the sun was beginning to set behind jagged peaks that cast long shadows across buildings that had been transformed from peaceful residential structures into the debris-strewn aftermath of supernatural conflict.
The dim light of approaching evening fell across a community that would never recover from what had transpired within its boundaries. What had once been a prosperous settlement was now a collection of damaged structures and scattered rubble that told the story of forces unleashed far beyond what any civilian population should ever have to witness.
ROOOOOAR!
The cry that echoed across the town carried frustration and defiance that spoke to a proud spirit finally forced to acknowledge defeat. A massive creature whose body blazed with blue flames that seemed to burn without consuming stood in the town's central square, its feline features twisted in an expression of unwilling surrender.
The Two-Tails, Matatabi, had fought with every ounce of power at its disposal, but even legendary strength had limits when confronted with opponents whose abilities operated outside the normal constraints of mortality and physical law.
The creature's enormous form began to contract and diminish, the blue flames that had made it appear almost ethereal gradually fading until only human proportions remained. What emerged from the transformation was a woman whose beauty was marked by the distinctive features that identified her as a kunoichi of Kumogakure.
Yugito Nii, the Two-Tails jinchūriki, had finally been forced to abandon her tailed beast transformation after a battle that had tested the very limits of her considerable abilities. Her breathing was labored, her movements unsteady, and her eyes carried the kind of exhausted determination that marked someone who had given everything in a losing cause.
Not far from her position, a figure lay motionless within the boundaries of a ritual circle that pulsed with crimson light. The pattern was clearly of religious or ceremonial significance, its geometric precision speaking to traditions that predated the modern ninja world by countless generations.
The man at the circle's center was handsome in a conventional sense, his white hair slicked back in a style that might have been fashionable under different circumstances. But his current condition would have horrified anyone unfamiliar with his unique physiological characteristics.
His body was covered with wounds that should have been fatal several times over. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle, clearly broken in multiple places, while kunai protruded from vital points throughout his torso and limbs. Each injury had been precisely placed to disrupt chakra flow while simultaneously inflicting maximum pain and disability.
Yet despite the horrific nature of his wounds, the man showed no signs of distress or concern. This was Hidan, the missing-nin from Yugakure whose devotion to his twisted religious beliefs had granted him a form of immortality that made conventional combat doctrine essentially useless against him.
He wore a scratched forehead protector around his neck that identified him as a former shinobi of the Village Hidden in Hot Water—a peaceful community that had been transformed into something far darker by his presence and actions. His massacre of the Jashin cult's leadership had marked the beginning of a path that led inevitably to membership in the most dangerous organization in the ninja world.
"Avoiding her vital points and not being able to kill her is really frustrating," Hidan complained with the petulant tone of someone whose artistic sensibilities had been offended by practical constraints.
His adherence to the Jashin faith typically demanded that he sacrifice his opponents in elaborate rituals that required their deaths to be both painful and spiritually significant. Being forced to capture rather than kill went against every instinct that had been shaped by years of religious fanaticism.
"This woman's body should fetch a good price on the black market," Kakuzu observed with the cold calculation that had characterized his approach to life for over a century.
The former Takigakure ninja moved with mechanical precision as he lifted Yugito's unconscious form, his movements suggesting someone who viewed human beings as nothing more than commodities to be evaluated and processed according to their potential value.
"Go ahead and try to sell her, then see how the leader deals with you," Hidan replied with obvious satisfaction at the prospect of his partner's punishment.
His grin carried the kind of malicious glee that came from anticipating someone else's suffering, particularly when that someone had frustrated him through their practical approach to what should have been a spiritual endeavor.
"If you say another word, I'll kill you," Kakuzu's voice dropped to a threatening growl, his eyes reflecting the kind of murderous intent that had made him legendary throughout the criminal underworld.
"Ha!" Hidan's response was completely dismissive, his tone suggesting that he found such threats more amusing than intimidating.
"If you think you can do it, then give it a try," he continued with the confidence of someone whose immortality had been tested countless times under the most extreme circumstances.
Kakuzu's expression grew darker, but he made no move to act on his threat. The simple truth was that Hidan's unique physiology made him effectively impossible to kill through conventional means, a fact that had been proven repeatedly throughout their violent partnership.
"How long are you going to lie there like that?" Kakuzu demanded with obvious impatience. "It's time to leave."
His practical nature was already focused on the next phase of their mission, recognizing that prolonged exposure in hostile territory increased the likelihood of unwanted complications.
"Reinforcements from Kumogakure will arrive soon," he added, providing tactical justification for his sense of urgency.
"Why are you rushing me?" Hidan retorted with obvious irritation. "This is blasphemy against the gods. You will definitely be cursed by Jashin for your interference."
His religious convictions remained absolute despite the circumstances, and he genuinely believed that disrupting his ritual activities would result in divine retribution against those responsible.
Kakuzu ignored the theological threats and turned away, carrying Yugito as he began to move toward the town's outskirts. His dismissive attitude toward Hidan's beliefs had been a source of constant friction between them, but it had never interfered with their operational effectiveness.
"You've delayed our leader's plans," Kakuzu observed with the kind of cold logic that cut through religious fanaticism like a blade. "Even if you don't die, I doubt you'll enjoy the consequences."
The mention of their organization's leadership was sufficient to give Hidan pause. While his immortality protected him from physical harm, there were other forms of punishment that could make existence unpleasant even for someone who couldn't be killed.
His eyes showed a flicker of genuine concern as he processed the implications of disappointing someone whose power and ruthlessness were legendary even among the Akatsuki's membership.
Standing up from the ritual circle with obvious reluctance, Hidan retrieved both his three-bladed scythe and his severed arm from their positions nearby. The weapon was still stained with the blood that had been shed during his religious ceremony, while the limb showed no signs of decay despite its separation from his body.
"At least reattach my arm for me first," he demanded as he hurried to catch up with his partner.
The casual nature of the request spoke to the routine nature of such injuries in his experience, while his tone suggested that he viewed the reattachment process as a minor inconvenience rather than a serious medical procedure.
The coordinated assault on multiple tailed beasts had been completed with devastating efficiency, demonstrating capabilities that would force every hidden village to reevaluate their assumptions about what was possible in the modern ninja world. The Akatsuki organization had proven that they possessed both the intelligence network and the raw power necessary to challenge the established order on a scale that had never been attempted before.
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