Reinforcements had finally arrived at the front lines.
When Jiraiya first spotted them approaching, his heart sank. Four people. Just four, that's what Konoha had sent to turn the tide of this brutal campaign.
But then he recognized the man leading them, and relief washed over him like cool water. Victor Stone. The mysterious cultivator Tsunade vouched for with absolute conviction.
Jiraiya had never actually seen Victor fight, but he trusted Tsunade's judgment implicitly. She'd once said something that still echoed in his mind, "Even if it was my great-grandfather, my second great-uncle, and Uchiha Madara all together, they still wouldn't be a match for that guy."
Tsunade never exaggerated. She'd lived in the shadow of legends her entire life, the First and Second Hokage were family, after all. She understood better than anyone what the peak of shinobi power looked like. If she made that kind of comparison, Victor had to be something beyond comprehension.
Still, Jiraiya couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he took in the scene before him. Three stunning women accompanied Victor, each one moving with a grace and confidence that marked them as extraordinary. Their figures were nothing short of breathtaking, and each possessed the kind of beauty that could stop a man in his tracks.
Here was Jiraiya, one of the legendary Sannin, seasoned warrior, celebrated author, and if he did say so himself, a man of considerable charm. So why didn't he have that kind of luck with women? What did Victor have that he didn't?
"Are you even listening to me?"
Victor's cold voice cut through Jiraiya's wandering thoughts. The temperature seemed to drop several degrees, and Jiraiya felt an instinctive shiver run down his spine. Victor's gaze was sharp, clearly displeased by where Jiraiya's attention had been focused.
If it weren't for Tsunade, Jiraiya got the distinct impression Victor would've introduced his face to the sole of a boot.
"Ah? Sorry, what did you say?" Jiraiya coughed, quickly averting his eyes from the three women.
Victor produced an official-looking document. "This is Tsunade's appointment order. I'm taking command here. Bring me up to speed on the current situation."
"Of course! Follow me to the command tent."
Jiraiya had zero objections to handing over command. In fact, he was thrilled. Leading battlefield operations was exhausting, endless decisions, constant pressure, no sleep. If Konoha had anyone else qualified for the job, he would've passed it off weeks ago. Now he could focus on what he did best: intelligence gathering, reconnaissance, and the occasional heroic last stand.
Inside the command tent, Jiraiya moved to the tactical map spread across the central table. Miniature flags marked troop positions, terrain features, and enemy movements.
"Since your last report, the Cloud forces have entered the Land of Sound," Jiraiya explained, pointing to several locations on the map. "They're attempting to surround us and attack from multiple directions simultaneously. To prevent encirclement, I've established defensive positions here, here, and here to block their advance."
Victor studied the map, his expression darkening. A frown creased his forehead.
"Something wrong?" Jiraiya asked, noting the reaction.
Victor tapped one of the defensive markers. "If you knew we were outnumbered, why spread our forces so thin? We're divided across three separate positions."
"No choice," Jiraiya said with a weary sigh. "Those three locations are all strategic high ground. We had to occupy them first. If the enemy takes those positions instead, we'll be at an even greater disadvantage. At least this way, we control the terrain."
Victor nodded slowly, continuing to analyze the tactical situation. His fingers traced potential attack routes and supply lines.
A young shinobi suddenly burst through the tent entrance, breathing hard. "Lord Jiraiya! The Cloud forces have launched a full-scale assault on our positions!"
Jiraiya's jaw tightened. "They're attacking more than ten hours earlier than I predicted!"
He turned to Victor. "What's your plan?"
Victor considered the map for only a moment before making his decision. He pointed to Position Three, the easternmost defensive line.
"Pull all troops from here and redistribute them to the other two positions. The four of us will hold Position Three alone."
"Understood."
Without hesitation, Jiraiya issued the retreat order. Within minutes, the garrison at Position Three began their tactical withdrawal, falling back to reinforce the other defensive lines.
As the last Konoha forces departed, Victor led Kujo Arisa, Erina, and Hisako into the sky above Position Three, floating effortlessly on spiritual energy. Below them, the battlefield told its story in blood and broken earth. Shattered weapons littered the ground among the fallen.
The three women went pale at the sight. Severed limbs, bodies torn apart by jutsu, the metallic scent of blood carried on the wind, this was war in its rawest form. None of them had ever witnessed carnage on this scale. Their sheltered lives hadn't prepared them for this reality.
It took several long moments before they could process what they were seeing, before their minds could accept the brutality spread out below.
Victor glanced at his three companions. "This battle is yours to fight. I won't intervene unless your lives are in danger."
This was always his intention, to forge them in the fires of real combat. Training exercises and sparring matches could only take someone so far. True growth came from facing death and surviving it. He'd step in to save them if necessary, but not before.
The three women exchanged glances and nodded. They'd known this moment would come eventually. Taking a deep breath, they descended toward the Cloud forces below.
The Hidden Cloud shinobi were still celebrating their easy victory when death arrived from above.
A flash of silver light.
BOOM!
A massive sword beam carved through their ranks, killing dozens in an instant. Blood sprayed. Bodies fell.
The survivors looked up in shock, squinting against the sun's glare. Three figures descended from the sky, landing gracefully in the center of the Cloud formation.
For a moment, everyone froze. The Cloud ninja had never seen clothing like what these three wore, elegant, otherworldly, nothing like standard shinobi gear. And the women themselves were breathtaking, like celestial beings descended from the heavens.
In this harsh world of warfare and death, such beauty seemed almost unreal. Three goddesses had appeared on the battlefield, and for a heartbeat, every man present forgot where he was.
That hesitation cost them dearly.
The three women split up, each choosing a direction, and began their assault. Their movements were fluid, practiced, lethal. Spiritual energy flowed through their techniques as they engaged the enemy.
In moments, more than a dozen Cloud shinobi fell before they could even react. Sword light flashed. Blood pooled on the broken ground.
Finally, someone shouted, breaking the spell. "They're Konoha reinforcements! Kill them!"
The Cloud commander, an elite jonin whose name would never appear in any history books, roared orders at his troops. The formation shifted, hundreds of shinobi moving to engage these three unexpected enemies.
Lightning crackled. Fire blazed. Earth rose from the ground. The Cloud forces unleashed a barrage of ninjutsu, brilliant and deadly techniques that had ended countless lives in this war.
None of it touched the three women.
They moved like ghosts across the battlefield, their spiritual cultivation granting them speed and perception far beyond what these shinobi could comprehend. Arisa's blade sang as it cut through flesh and bone. Erina's attacks were precise, surgical. Hisako fought with desperate determination, each strike carrying the weight of her newfound purpose.
They wove between attacks, dodging kunai and shuriken, deflecting jutsu with barriers of spiritual energy. Their swords reaped lives with mechanical efficiency, one after another after another, like the gods of death incarnate.
In less than five minutes, nearly three hundred Cloud shinobi lay dead.
The commander stared at the carnage in disbelief. His forces, veteran warriors who'd survived countless battles, were being slaughtered. These three women moved through his army like they were cutting wheat at harvest time.
"Retreat!" he screamed. "Fall back!"
Where had these monsters come from? What kind of power was this? If they stayed, his entire force would be annihilated. Better to live and fight another day than die for a position they could retake later.
The Cloud forces began their withdrawal, discipline barely holding as they fled.
Arisa moved to pursue, but Victor's voice stopped her. "Don't chase a desperate enemy."
The three women halted, though Arisa looked ready to continue the slaughter.
"You've just experienced your first taste of real battle," Victor continued, his voice calm. "The most important thing now is to settle your minds and process what you've done. Adapt to these feelings."
As if his words had broken a dam, Hisako suddenly doubled over. "Ugh, " She covered her mouth, stumbled, and vomited violently onto the blood-soaked ground.
Moments later, both Arisa and Erina followed suit. Their bodies rejected what their minds had been forced to accept. The adrenaline faded, and reality crashed down on them. They'd killed people. Hundreds of people. Taken lives with their own hands.
Victor watched without judgment. He felt neither disappointment nor surprise. This reaction was natural, expected even. They were flowers grown in greenhouse conditions, thrust suddenly into the harsh wilderness of war.
This was their first time witnessing true carnality, their first time bathing their hands in blood. The fact that they'd held together this long spoke well of their mental fortitude.
But this purge was necessary. They needed to expel the horror, to confront what they'd done and accept it.
After they vomited this time, it would be easier next time. And easier still the time after that.
The first step was always the hardest. After that, the path forward opened up naturally.
Victor descended to stand beside them as they recovered, placing a gentle hand on each of their shoulders. "You did well," he said quietly. "Better than I expected for your first real battle."
They looked up at him with haunted eyes, faces pale and drawn. But somewhere in those expressions, he could also see determination beginning to form. They'd crossed a threshold today, stepped through a door that could never be closed again.
The path of cultivation was paved with trials like these. Combat, death, survival, these forged a cultivator's spirit as surely as meditation refined their energy. His disciples had taken their first true step on that path today.
They just needed time to realize it.
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