["God of the Shinobi — Hashirama Senju Chakra Trial Card (Two-Star): Duration — 10 seconds."]
That was it.
After 22 pulls, this was the only 2-star reward Rasa had ever gotten—and based on the system's description, it was a rare one.
Ridiculously rare.
After cursing the trash gacha system in his mind, Rasa looked back out over the desert—now eerily silent.
The Iwa-nin… had all been wiped out.
No wonder they called Hashirama the God of Shinobi.
The moment he activated the chakra, power surged through his body—raw, overwhelming, exhilarating. He trembled involuntarily, letting out a soft, pleasure-filled grunt.
"Mmhmm~…"
Just one word could describe it:
Bliss.
The only downside?
When the ten seconds ended, the crushing emptiness that followed left him dazed and drained.
He just wanted to sit down, stare up at the moon, and lose himself in silence.
And that massive wave of gold dust?
Gone. Just like that.
What a waste.
His current chakra reserves couldn't even re-gather a tenth of that volume. Even if he wanted to blow all his in-game currency and go wild, he didn't have enough for a proper "pay-to-win" comeback.
Rasa sighed and stomped lightly on the desert floor beneath him. Nothing stirred. The Iwa-nin were really done.
"Should be safe now."
After a sandstorm like that? No one should've survived.
After all, that was chakra on the level of the God of the Shinobi.
Now what?
Rasa looked up at the pitch-black night sky, frowning slightly. After a moment of thought, he muttered, "Might as well rest for now. At daybreak..."
Back to gold mining.
As for the other Suna-nin?
Those heartless bastards hadn't even come to find him!
He'd just fought off an entire force of Iwa-nin alone. If not for his system drops and the unexpected pull of that OP card, he'd be a corpse buried under sand right now.
"Ungrateful. All of them."
He was still publicly recognized as the Third Kazekage's personal disciple—how could no one be concerned for his life?
Clearly, the only one he could rely on… was himself. And his wallet.
Also—
It was better he stay off the radar for now.
After all, the Iwa-nin had chased him across the desert in full view of the Kusagakure scouts. If he showed up on the front lines now, Iwagakure would put the pieces together immediately.
Sure, if he made a big enough splash during this war, he'd likely be named the Fourth Kazekage without contest.
But seriously…
Why bother?
Sunagakure was a broke, sandblasted village where people fought over tree bark and scrap wood. No money. No manpower. Constant sandstorms. He'd have to keep gold-mining just to keep the lights on.
"Why would I sign up to be mayor of that?"
Better to stay hidden and throw Iwagakure off his trail.
It wasn't cowardice.
He just… didn't feel like fighting the Tsuchikage, Raikage, and Hokage all at once. Who would?
Late Autumn, Year 42 of the Hidden Leaf Calendar.
The war had dragged on for nearly two months now.
Fighting along the northern border with Kumogakure grew more intense by the day.
With so few shinobi left to deploy, Sunagakure had slowly been forced onto the defensive. Anyone who could still walk had been sent to the battlefield—including students who hadn't even finished their first semester at the academy.
Their teachers, teary-eyed, yet smiling proudly as they told them:
"You have exceptional talent. After a special review, the village has decided to grant you early graduation.
Congratulations… you're now a proud shinobi of Sunagakure!"
Then those kids were shoved straight into the meat grinder.
Everyone knew what happened next.
No matter how proud they were to receive their first headbands, the chances of them surviving the front lines were slim to none.
They couldn't change the tide of battle. Not really.
At best, a few might survive long enough to become proper ninja someday.
But most…
They were just cannon fodder.
Sunagakure was pouring everything it had into this war. Victory at all costs.
After barely fending off another wave of Kumo attackers, Chiyo sat in the temporary command tent, drained. She reviewed the latest battle reports from other fronts—and suddenly froze.
Then she slammed her hand on the table.
"Rasa… that brat… he's dead?!"
"…What?!" Ebizō turned in shock.
"You're saying Rasa—he's gone?"
Chiyo nodded, face twisted with rage and sorrow.
"Two months ago—right when he first led his unit out—he was ambushed by Iwa and Kusa forces working together.
To protect as much of our strength as possible, he entrusted command to Momu and went off alone to draw the enemy away."
"He never returned."
"…That… that…" Ebizō paced the tent, trembling with fury.
"This is outrageous. Absolutely outrageous! Even Kusagakure dares attack us now?!"
He stopped and shook his head with a long, weary sigh.
"Rasa… he truly lived up to the name of the Third Kazekage's disciple."
He was a man of loyalty and heart.
Even after falling into grief and despair when the Third disappearance, Rasa had stood up again. He had fought back. Protected his comrades. Protected the village.
"If he were still alive… he might've been our Fourth Kazekage."
"…That doesn't matter now."
Chiyo crushed the report in her hand.
"We can't let this news spread."
The disappearance of the Third Kazekage had already shaken morale. If Rasa's death got out too… it might break the village entirely.
"Understood."
Ebizō gave a solemn nod, then swept his gaze across the room. Every jōnin in attendance stiffened and responded immediately with firm, serious nods of their own.
"What's the status on the western front?"
"…Not good," Chiyo muttered after a long silence. "Most of our reinforcements were sent to this front. With Iwagakure and Kusagakure working together over there… they won't hold out much longer."
Sunagakure…
was on the verge of collapse.
And elsewhere…
A young man with short brown hair stood atop a sand dune, gazing into the distance. His brow furrowed.
"Something's off…"
He looked toward the southwest—toward the crumbling western front.
"Shouldn't the main battlefield be over by the Kumogakure border? Why does it feel like this side's about to collapse?"
He narrowed his eyes as the wind kicked up the dust.
Something wasn't right.