Chapter 258: The Dead
"Earth Style: Earth Flow Wall!"
The sound of simultaneous jutsu echoed across the battlefield as the Allied Shinobi Forces moved in unison. Moments later, a massive earthen barrier—like a triple-layered Rashomon—rose from the ground, forming a wall as imposing as a fortress between them and the storm ahead.
Then it came.
A hurricane, sharp as blades, swept forward in a deafening roar, dragging clouds of dust toward the watching alliance.
Fortunately, the Five Kage—led by Ōnoki—issued orders just in time.
Even so, the towering wall trembled violently under the sheer force of the blast.
And this… was just the aftermath.
"That's it."
A cold, detached voice drifted through the swirling dust and fog.
Madara's devastating sword strike had landed, but it felt as though he had slashed into a wall of cotton. There was no resistance, no feedback, no sensation of impact at all.
"What...?"
Madara narrowed his eyes and peered into the fading storm.
As the violent winds began to settle and the dust cleared, Ryosuke stood before him—arriving so silently, it was as though time itself had paused for him to appear.
The place where Susanoo's enormous blade had landed was now blocked by a pitch-black wall that had materialized out of nowhere. There wasn't a single crack on its surface—only an abyss of endless darkness. Yet within it, Madara sensed something deeper: the fused essence of Yin and Yang, and the full spectrum of the Five Elements.
He had seen this described once—etched in ancient Uchiha stone tablets. A concept so far beyond mortal reach that it bordered on the divine. A fusion of Yin, Yang, and all elemental chakra, blended in a way that defied explanation.
A realm beyond mortals. A realm of gods.
In this light, Ryosuke's arrogance was justified.
This wasn't some self-proclaimed "god" like Nagato. No—this was someone truly favored by the heavens. His body and spirit had been acknowledged by the very forces of the world. He had ascended to a state where he was no longer bound by the laws of chakra.
In such a state… ninjutsu based on Yin, Yang, or the Five Elements became meaningless. Not sealed. Not absorbed. Simply... ineffective.
The chakra itself would submit. Like a newborn cub recognizing its mother, it would offer no resistance.
According to the Uchiha stone tablet, only one man had ever reached such a level—
"The Sage of Six Paths…"
Madara spoke the words quietly, and in that moment, he understood. Ryosuke had reached a level once believed to be myth.
If he could truly command the power of Yin-Yang Release and the Five Elements so freely, then Madara—at least as he was now—was no match for him.
It was like a blacksmith listening to a merchant brag about the weapons he'd bought.
Madara was a wielder of techniques passed down for generations—techniques that borrowed chakra from nature. But Ryosuke had surpassed all that. He no longer needed hand signs. He no longer needed borrowed power. He had become one with the source itself.
Even so...
Madara's eyes sharpened. He stepped back slightly and raised his guard.
He wasn't about to abandon his plans just because the opponent was strong.
The times may have changed, but as one who had clawed his way back from death, he still intended to fight. Even if it meant sacrificing the life he had only just regained.
"You have won this battle. As agreed, I will not interfere with your plan."
To Madara's surprise, Ryosuke didn't press the attack. Instead, he calmly descended to the fractured ground and reached into a deep crater, pulling Shanks up from its depths.
"W-why?"
The question left Madara's lips before he could stop it.
Why would Ryosuke, so clearly superior, let him continue? Did he share the same goals?
"Because it's such a shame," Ryosuke answered simply.
He placed a hand on Shanks' unconscious form. A soft, life-green energy flowed from his palm, knitting torn muscle and healing internal damage.
Madara's final blow had been blocked at the last second. If it hadn't, Shanks would surely be dead.
"Shame?" Madara echoed, confused.
"Yes," Ryosuke said again, stabilizing Shanks and helping him to his feet. Then, facing Madara once more, he smiled.
"From what I know of history, you were a man of immense talent, unshakable will, and a clear vision for the future."
He paused.
"As the strongest man of the previous era… you must know what it feels like to stand at the top. Isn't it lonely?"
"Heh… interesting."
Madara stared at the white-haired youth.
There was no mockery in his gaze. Just curiosity—and perhaps, a little admiration.
"You're right. I can understand that feeling."
He chuckled.
"But unlike your time, my era wasn't lonely. I always had an opponent: Senju Hashirama."
Madara's tone shifted as he spoke the name.
"I thought I had surpassed him just before my death, but the truth is… we never got the chance to truly settle it. That makes him the strongest of our generation."
That was his regret.
And yet, as he looked at Ryosuke now, his evaluation rose.
This boy's mind, his will—they already exceeded what both he and Hashirama had reached in their time. And while the two of them had chased the dream of peace, Ryosuke pursued something far simpler: strength.
Perhaps that's the difference. A true apex warrior is not defined by the times they live in.
Even in this weakened era of shinobi, a monster like Ryosuke could still emerge.
A true... battle fanatic.
"I'm looking forward to your evolution," Madara said at last, "and to the chance to fight you again."
Ryosuke responded calmly, voice steady as the air before a storm. The space before him twisted and shimmered, forming a portal.
"Naruto Uzumaki—the Nine-Tails Jinchūriki—is my friend," he said. "I hope you won't take his life."
He placed a hand on Shanks' shoulder, guiding him toward the portal.
"I know the shinobi world believes the Jinchūriki dies when the Tailed Beast is extracted."
"But I also know... you already possess the ability to save him."
"And if you won't… I will."
Without waiting for a response, Ryosuke stepped into the portal with Shanks, vanishing just as suddenly as he had arrived.
As though they had come here for nothing more than this clash—for a moment of understanding.
Madara stared at the spot where they vanished.
His chest felt hot. Not with rage, but something else.
Envy.
That boy had fought with no burden. No plan. No hesitation. He had allowed his enemy to live—trusted him to grow stronger. He fought not for duty, but for the sheer thrill of testing his limits.
Madara could never do that.
Since childhood, he had carried expectations: the wishes of his father, the loss of his brother, the dream of peace he shared with Hashirama. Every battle, every step forward—each had a purpose.
He couldn't afford to chase strength for its own sake.
And somehow… that truth was infuriating.
"Damn it all…"
He turned away from the vanishing portal, his shoulders heavy under invisible weight.
Looking toward the distant Allied Shinobi Forces, Madara narrowed his eyes.
"One day, I'll fight you, junior."
In a small town where the Ninja Alliance's logistics department was stationed, within a long-abandoned house whose former residents had moved away, the air began to twist and shimmer.
Then—Ryosuke arrived, carrying Shanks with him.
Without ceremony, he tossed the unconscious redhead into a guest room and went to another to lie down and rest.
He paid no mind to the ongoing battlefield. After that brief yet impactful encounter with Uchiha Madara, Ryosuke had realized something: no matter how much he had once anticipated Madara's potential, the man simply couldn't catch up to him.
As for Naruto…
Before leaving Konoha, Ryosuke had already asked Naruto about his feelings toward Kurama—the Nine-Tails—and subtly warned him that danger could follow him because of the Tailed Beast sealed within.
As a friend, Ryosuke would save Naruto's life.
But that was where the line was drawn.
He wouldn't guide him, wouldn't train him. Growth had to be earned, not handed over. That had always been Ryosuke's belief.
If he paved the road for Naruto entirely, then the boy would never stand a chance of surpassing him.
Though he considered Naruto a friend, he also saw him as a future rival—someone who might someday catch up.
And Naruto… was the reincarnation of Ashura. In this shinobi world, that bloodline alone gave him a formidable edge.
Maybe—just maybe—even if this world's timeline was accelerating faster than the original, Naruto would still reach the realm of the Six Paths. But only if he was pushed to the brink, faced with death. Some trials had to be faced alone.
With that thought, Ryosuke pushed aside all distractions.
Lying on the bed with eyes closed, he began replaying Shanks' every move during their fight—the subtle shifts in aura, the rhythm of his techniques.
Though he hadn't personally fought Shanks, Ryosuke's perception and insight allowed him to learn by observation alone.
Physical prowess. Swordsmanship. And that unique energy—what the pirates called Haki.
Even if his current level of power made such basic skills seem trivial, he still grasped at every ounce of potential growth. At his level, opportunities for improvement were rare and precious.
Cumbersome or not, these foreign-world abilities were still useful. Like high-tier skills in a game, they often required mastery over countless lesser techniques as prerequisites.
When Ryosuke had been sealed inside Nagato's Chibaku Tensei, his sudden awakening of the Eighty Gods' Aerial Assault had only come about because of his prior study of combat—because he hadn't dismissed Blueno's fighting strength or his mastery of the Six Navy Styles. If he had, he might never have thought to apply Shave's stacked momentum to integrate various physical techniques.
Again and again, Ryosuke replayed the battle in his mind.
He could even step into Shanks' perspective within his inner consciousness—become him—experiencing his swordsmanship and Haki from within.
Time passed slowly.
Far away, in towns already scarred by the conflict, the aftershocks of battle trembled the earth—even reaching the house where Ryosuke lay. The floor rumbled softly, but he paid it no mind.
The world could change outside.
Inside, he was still learning.
---
"What a bunch of troublesome pests."
With a single strike, Madara cleaved through the colossal earth dragon charging toward him.
Perched inside his full-body Susanoo, he looked down coldly at the battlefield below—where shinobi scrambled like ants.
"Do you really think a mountain of corpses can block my ambition? Foolish."
The battle had raged long into the night.
But the darkness of midnight did nothing to stop the fighting.
Since Ryosuke left, nearly one-third of the Allied Shinobi Forces had been wiped out—most of their elite front-line troops crushed beneath Madara's unstoppable advance, becoming nothing more than ash and memory.
Yet the alliance attacked again and again, with no hesitation.
No matter how many fell, replacements surged forward like waves.
Madara's power was not just overwhelming—it was palpable. More direct, more terrifying than anything Nagato had ever displayed.
Had he chosen to speak—like Nagato did—to explain a dream or vision of peace, perhaps the sheer weight of his strength might have convinced some to join him.
But Madara said nothing.
Unlike Nagato, who still believed in changing hearts, Madara had abandoned humanity altogether. His cold indifference swept away every obstacle like wind through leaves.
That was why no one fled. Why no one gave up.
They knew—if they didn't stop him here, the world would plunge into endless darkness. Running wouldn't save anyone.
"Damn it... Did that Hyuga brat really just run away?"
Ōnoki floated high above the battlefield, his body shaking with fatigue.
His legs had been shattered during his desperate attempt to stall Madara. Now they dangled uselessly beneath him, swinging like limp ropes.
"With that kind of power, if he just helped... we'd stand a chance!"
"The Hyuga clan is crafty," Jiraiya said tiredly. "That Hyuga Ryosuke's been hiding something since birth. His ambitions... his thoughts... they're impossible to predict."
"Tsuchikage," Mei Terumi cut in sharply. "Forget about other people's choices."
She stared coldly at the battlefield, where the massive Susanoo was cutting through the alliance like weeds. Her eyes hardened.
"If anyone can slow Madara down, even for a moment—don't hesitate. Use Dust Release. Obliterate him."
"…I agree with the Mizukage."
Jiraiya hesitated but then nodded, voice resolute.
"If I'm the one who can delay him... then don't hold back. Destroy us both if it means stopping that monster."
The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, also gave a solemn nod.
Among the Five Kage, the Fifth Raikage—Darui—was no longer present.
The youngest, and the least experienced of them all, Darui had died protecting the Jinchūriki from Madara's pursuit.
Taking his place in the command wasn't someone from the Hidden Cloud Village—but Tsunade, who had originally been stationed in logistics.
Now, the entire ninja alliance had abandoned village boundaries and pride.
The situation was too dire.
Even personnel from the logistics, perception, and intelligence divisions had taken up arms and joined the frontlines.
There was no time to transport the wounded—no rear to retreat to.
Those who could still fight had no excuse to hide.
Orders raced from the Land of Water to the other four nations. Even the troops guarding the villages were being summoned back.
This was no longer about precaution.
This was about survival.
They had united the entire ninja world. And still... even with that strength, Madara towered over them like a god descending from myth.
"Maybe…"
Jiraiya murmured, eyes narrowing as he stared into the night.
A figure like Madara—resurrected from a past era—called to mind only one name.
Someone who had once stood toe-to-toe with him.
Normally, the dead should be left to rest.
But when Orochimaru had invaded Konoha, he'd summoned the Second Hokage to fight the Third.
And if this war reached its tipping point—
Then perhaps… even the Hokage of history would need to be disturbed once more.
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