Chapter 257: That's It
"No... I don't know this guy."
As the battlefield neared its final phase, Mifune, representative of the Land of Iron, had also been drawn by the clash in the wasteland. He stood beside the Five Kage, eyes fixed on the red-haired warrior clashing against the towering Susanoo.
"Incredible power…"
Despite his aging face, Mifune's gaze burned with sharp intensity. The red-haired swordsman's strikes and movement were clearly beyond ordinary kenjutsu.
"True sword energy... that's something only legendary sword masters wield. Each swing should demand immense physical exertion."
"But this man… he swings without strain. He's surpassed the realm of the swordmaster. He's stepped into a plane never seen before in the shinobi world. Who is he?"
Sword energy, in its purest form, wasn't like modern chakra-enhanced blade strikes. It was the will of the sword manifested—an ancient, nearly mythical state described only in old texts.
Mifune had always dismissed such tales as fantasy. But now, watching this man fight, he realized they were real.
"No, I must get closer."
Driven by a mix of reverence and curiosity, Mifune stepped forward, fanatical light in his eyes. Though the clash ahead could kill a bystander in an instant, he still pressed forward.
"If we could get closer, we wouldn't be standing around here."
Jiraiya, watching alongside the other Kage, didn't stop him. But soon, they all encountered an invisible barrier—a wall of air separating them from the battlefield. No one could cross it.
"What is this?"
With all his strength, Mifune drew his blade and slashed at the barrier. It was like slicing hardened cotton—no feedback, no resistance, no result.
"Hyuga Ryosuke clearly doesn't want us interfering," Terumi Mei sighed.
Among the Kage, Darui was visibly unsettled.
Hyuga Ryosuke—the quiet genius who always stayed in the background—was far more terrifying than any of them had realized. The repulsive force keeping them out alone had surpassed what Nagato displayed.
Perhaps... their Hidden Cloud had made grave miscalculations.
Ryosuke ignored the stirrings outside. His attention remained locked on the battle—and more specifically, on Shanks' strange, commanding aura.
That unfamiliar force... it felt similar to his own coercive will.
"Master Ryosuke is truly obsessed with power."
A voice sounded near his ear.
"Feeling like you've lived too long?" Ryosuke replied with a calm smile, his tone laced with irony. "You're useful—for now. But don't mistake that for necessity. I can wake Kaguya without you."
His gaze focused sharply on the white clay that had been silently clinging to him.
With a flicker of thought, the creature was lifted and slammed into the ground by invisible pressure.
Still smiling, Ryosuke stared coldly, "The reason you're still breathing is because I don't want to handle this myself."
"Don't ever think I need you."
As his words fell, his vision stretched across space—seeing through mists and mountains—directly to where Black Zetsu lurked within Hidden Mist Village.
He could appear there in an instant if he wished.
"Of course..."
Black Zetsu trembled. "I-I understand."
A suffocating aura descended. Even the surrounding space seemed ready to fracture beneath it.
Ryosuke's faintly glowing eyes burned into Black Zetsu's memory—an image far more terrifying than anything he remembered from Kaguya's lineage.
Ryosuke slowly turned away.
In the distance, the clash intensified.
Uchiha Madara had brought Susanoo into its third stage. The God of War's avatar now wore armor, granting him a defense solid enough that he no longer needed to dodge Shanks' strikes.
Light blue chakra turned dark, and in Susanoo's hand appeared a long blade resembling a samurai sword.
Its body became more distinct—more lifelike. Veins, muscle, even skeletal structure were visible beneath the chakra form.
But this increase in power was driven by necessity.
Madara was under pressure.
Shanks' sword energy danced like a black dragon, circling Susanoo with every swing.
His Armament Haki shimmered across his blade, while his Observation Haki kept him half a step ahead of every strike.
Again and again, sparks exploded across the wasteland.
Clash after clash echoed into the distance.
To the onlookers, Shanks seemed like a mortal standing against a deity, sword in hand.
And outside the battlefield, many didn't realize that Ryosuke and his companions weren't allied with the Ninja Alliance at all—they were a third force, one no one had accounted for.
"I don't understand… why is Lord Ryosuke wasting time with these meaningless fights?"
Black Zetsu appeared beside Ryosuke in his true form, no longer bothering to hide.
"Uchiha Madara's power is a dying ember compared to your galaxy-like brilliance."
"Wouldn't it be better to prepare for your meeting with my mother?"
Ryosuke's gaze remained fixed on the duel.
"Maybe."
He answered casually, not bothering to continue the conversation.
From Black Zetsu's perspective, Madara and Nagato were pawns—useful only if they fit the plan.
But from Ryosuke's point of view... things were different.
Despite being manipulated, neither Madara nor Nagato could be dismissed so easily.
Nagato's transformation through the Uzumaki constitution, compensated with puppetry and vision, was born of adaptation, not just arrangement.
And Madara—who gave everything, including his life—for a dream?
That level of conviction deserved respect.
Ryosuke didn't revere them as pawns. He admired them as warriors.
Even if their destination had been orchestrated, the path they walked was paved with their own blood.
In their eyes, this path had always been theirs—especially for Uchiha Madara.
Within the sparse records of Uchiha history, the ultimate form of the Sharingan was believed to be the Mangekyō—with devastating side effects. Yet Madara never gave up. He pursued a breakthrough with unrelenting will. And finally, when he was plunged into darkness, he awakened the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan—by "chance."
Later still, he gained enlightenment from Black Zetsu and obtained power once thought exclusive to the Sage of Six Paths.
Unlike Kaguya Ōtsutsuki or the Sage himself, who were born with divine power, Madara had clawed his way up from nothing. Step by step, trial by trial, he rose to the pinnacle of the shinobi world.
Yes, coincidences marked his journey—but had he surrendered before opportunity arrived, would any of it have mattered? No. Absolutely not.
Many reincarnations of Indra had appeared within the Uchiha before Madara. Yet none had seized and mastered the chances Black Zetsu gave. In the end, they fell into obscurity, their lives extinguished without glory.
"Don't just use the word 'genius' to erase someone's struggle..."
Ryosuke whispered softly, heat still burning in his chest from the battle.
Even so… he couldn't allow that passion to run wild. His long-dormant heart had begun to stir again—but it wasn't enough. Not yet.
Ryosuke's power didn't improve in bursts—it rose in harmony.
Breath. Physique. Realm.
Each advanced together. Because of that, his control was precise, and his perception razor-sharp.
The violent clash before him may have appeared too intense for others to even approach, but Ryosuke had already measured the combatants and found himself capable of overwhelming both with ease.
"It's almost over."
The Tenseigan locked firmly onto the two warriors, reading every subtle shift in their faces.
He swung his long sword.
The enormous blade, clutched tightly in Susanoo's hand, slammed down onto the much smaller sword held by Shanks. But Shanks, with refined technique, redirected most of the force.
Even so, the raw energy of the impact sent both men hurtling backward, each flying dozens of meters away.
"Incredible power."
Shaking his numbed wrist, Shanks stared at his opponent with a conflicted gaze.
At the start, relying solely on physical prowess, he could have crushed this armored man. But in this world—this chakra-drenched reality—those strange eyes and the giant's phantom warped the balance.
What was once his strength—his body—was now slipping into disadvantage.
Strength, durability, speed… he was being outpaced on all fronts.
Were it not for Observation Haki and Armament Haki keeping his rhythm intact, he might have already been shattered by a single blow.
"I have to say... your combat ability exceeds my imagination."
Madara, too, looked at the red-haired warrior with a flicker of disbelief.
"To think someone from another world could possess such power—without even using chakra."
"Your name is Shanks, right?"
"Yes," Shanks replied casually. "You're not bad yourself. But you've got room to grow in taijutsu and swordsmanship."
"True. In raw physical skill and sword technique, I can't match you."
Madara didn't try to argue.
Perhaps this was the difference between their worlds. Without the power of his ocular jutsu, he wouldn't be able to keep up with Shanks in close-quarters combat.
But physical prowess wasn't everything. Battles are decided by comprehensive strength, not isolated skill.
"Based on your strength, how would you rank in your world?"
Madara asked, casually lowering his stance but not attacking.
Shanks, likewise, paused to regulate his breathing and blood flow.
"Probably... top ten," he replied, glancing at his restored arm. "There are powerful enemies I haven't faced yet. So I try not to overestimate myself."
"Top ten…"
A light flashed in Madara's eyes.
"Then I look forward to seeing more."
He then seemed to make a decision.
"But this fight ends here."
"I've wasted enough time. You're stronger than me in hand-to-hand combat. I admit that."
"In terms of taijutsu, you win."
"But in the end, I will be the one who stands victorious."
After all, they were from different worlds. Madara didn't resent losing in physical skill.
Technically speaking, he could afford that loss.
As he spoke, an even greater aura erupted from his body.
The deep blue chakra took its final form—no longer a vague phantom, but a solid manifestation of the God of War.
Muscles. Meridians. Flesh. Bone.
Every detail was rendered with terrifying clarity, and even wings unfolded behind him.
"In the face of absolute power, skill means nothing."
His position, elevated and daunting, looked like a god surveying mortal ants.
"You can't block this blade."
It was a warning, deliberate and sincere.
But Shanks didn't back down.
Instead, he smiled.
He raised his blade and entered a ready stance—dignified and steady.
"I'm looking forward to it."
"Hmph."
Madara snorted. But hidden within that scoff was undeniable admiration.
"Then... let's finish this."
The blue giant—larger even than tailed beasts—soared into the sky and dove.
Like a falling meteor, it descended with a force that could level mountains.
Within a single breath, Madara reached Shanks—and slashed.
The speed eclipsed anything his previous Susanoo had achieved.
Even with Observation Haki, Shanks couldn't completely avoid the blow. It was just too fast.
The howling wind carved at his skin, slicing into his Armament Haki and drawing blood with every cut.
But that was only the beginning.
The true danger was the blade itself—massive as a bridge.
Realizing he couldn't dodge, Shanks instinctively raised his sword to block.
He tried to redirect the force... but the moment their blades touched, divine energy exploded from the impact.
Boom!
His blood-soaked body slammed into the earth and embedded deep within.
His cherished sword—Griffin, his partner for over a decade—shattered into dust.
From within Susanoo, a flicker of regret passed through Madara's eyes.
Yet the blade didn't slow. It pressed on, continuing its merciless swing toward the ruined battlefield below...
"That's it."
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