But before Sasori could even finish that thought—
Shhh!!—
Another dazzling arrow of light burst forth from above, locked onto his position.
This one was even faster than the last, and Lefiya's concentration was sharper than before.
The arrow zeroed in on Sasori's heart, leaving him no room to breathe!
"…Annoying."
Sasori frowned. If he didn't move now, both he and Hiruko would be reduced to scrap.
At the very instant the arrow struck, Sasori's body shot out of Hiruko like a pupa breaking free from its cocoon.
BOOM!!
Lefiya's arrow hit dead-on, piercing straight through Hiruko.
The resulting explosion of magic light blasted the ground apart, carving a crater into the earth.
Hiruko—the puppet body Sasori was most proud of, that had slaughtered countless foes—lay in pieces, charred smoke billowing from its remains.
Watching Lefiya obliterate Hiruko in one shot, Orochimaru's expression finally darkened completely.
That was no ordinary puppet.
Hiruko had been one of Sasori's strongest works—its defenses immense, its construction embodying the pinnacle of his puppetcraft.
And yet, now it had been reduced to junk in an instant.
"…As I thought."
Orochimaru's golden eyes narrowed.
"Akatsuki… really has been defeated."
And yet, that wasn't what unsettled him most.
What truly gnawed at him was the black-haired boy smiling calmly in the distance.
Too calm. As though all of this had unfolded exactly as he had planned.
"There's no way that girl's arrows alone forced Akatsuki into this state."
"So what about him?"
"Just who… is this boy?"
Orochimaru's gaze locked on Ryota.
It was too abnormal.
He wasn't one to believe in fate, but for the first time in years, he felt a foreboding dread.
He whispered under his breath:
"Konoha… is no longer the Konoha I knew."
Down below, Sasori finally broke his silence.
He lifted his head, his eyes fixed on Ryota and the group of people behind him who weren't even shinobi. For once, true seriousness and killing intent glimmered in his gaze.
"Looks like… it's time I got serious."
He flipped his hands, yanking a massive scroll from inside his body.
Bang bang bang!!—
White smoke burst forth, flooding the area as countless figures surged into the sky.
Around him, hundreds of puppets appeared like a swarm of bees.
Clack!
Heads lifted, chests split open, hidden mechanisms revealed—blades, crossbows, spears.
Each puppet was armed differently, but all wore identical blood-red robes.
This was one of Sasori's ultimate trump cards:
"Secret Red Move: Performance of a Hundred Puppets!!"
A killing formation forged from years of toil and the spoils of battle.
Once, this very technique had wiped out an entire small country overnight—leaving no survivors.
And what made it even more terrifying: these puppets weren't being controlled by chakra threads.
They were directly linked to Sasori's "core" within his body!
No hand signs, no movements—only thought.
He was the soul of this army of death.
Because of that, their movements were flawless, seamless, flowing like his own arms and legs.
"There aren't many who can force me to use this."
Sasori's voice was low, his hair drifting in the wind. Pride and madness glinted beneath the shadows of his face.
"Let's see what's really happened to Konoha!"
BOOM!!
Hundreds of puppets surged forward in unison!
The clamor of their mechanisms blended into a single dreadful symphony.
This wasn't ninjutsu.
It was a storm of slaughter, a mechanical tide that devoured all in its path.
Countless weapons rained down like a tempest, sweeping toward Ryota and the others.
This was Sasori's true killing intent!
Orochimaru's brows twitched as he watched. His snake-like eyes glimmered with surprise.
"So this… is Sasori's trump card?"
He licked his lips, the sight of those weapons whirling through the sky sparking genuine interest.
That density, that speed, that crushing pressure that left no time to react—
Even he, Orochimaru, would need to pull out his deepest reserves to survive unscathed.
"Heh… frightening indeed."
The steps he'd been about to take away from the battlefield halted.
Instead, his gaze fixed on Ryota.
"How will you deal with this, I wonder? Or rather… can you deal with it?"
The air itself trembled beneath the charge of a hundred puppets.
The ground split with scorched lines as the puppets sealed every path of escape, enclosing Ryota in a prison of death.
This was Sasori's full-power killing formation.
His proudest and deadliest jutsu.
Even a Kage-level shinobi caught head-on would be maimed if not killed outright.
"Die!!!"
Sasori roared, his puppets swinging their weapons in unison, completing the trap.
All the attacks converged at once, bearing down on Ryota.
And yet Ryota didn't move. His expression remained calm, as though what he faced wasn't certain death, but a tedious puppet show.
At that very moment—
"Magnet Style: Iron Sand."
The words were spoken softly, almost lazily, from behind him.
But everyone heard it.
Sasori froze, his pupils contracting.
That voice was too familiar!
"…What?"
The realization struck, but it was already too late.
BOOOOM!!!
A massive black iron-sand cylinder erupted from behind Ryota's group, whistling through the air with unstoppable force!
Before anyone could react, it slammed into Sasori's army.
In less than a second—before even a full heartbeat had passed—
The tightly packed swarm of puppets was crushed like paper under its weight.
CRACKCRACKCRACK!!
The sound of shattering metal, ruptured cores, collapsing mechanisms—blending into one cataclysmic symphony of destruction.
The web of death Sasori had cast across the sky unraveled in an instant.
The battlefield became a wasteland of broken parts and black sand, not a single puppet left intact.
Sasori stood frozen, Hiruko's ruins still smoking behind him. His face had gone ashen, his throat tight.
That wasn't ordinary Magnet Style…
That was…
The Third Kazekage's ability!
But—he hadn't even summoned the Third Kazekage yet!
Then who—?!
His head jerked up, neck creaking mechanically as he turned toward the voice.
From behind Ryota, a blue-haired, golden-eyed figure stepped forward.
The Third Kazekage drew back its hands, iron sand still trembling faintly at its fingertips.
That silhouette—Sasori knew it too well.
It was his masterpiece. His puppet.
And yet, here it stood, alive, beside Ryota.
"Y-you…"
Sasori's voice trembled.
But before he could finish, Ryota spoke calmly:
"To be crushed by the very weapon you created… by the jutsu you fear most. How does it feel?"
The puppet at his back tilted its head slightly.
And—smiled.
A mocking, human smile.
It was laughing.
Sasori felt bile rise in his throat, rage boiling over with the taste of humiliation.
The next second, he flung his arms wide, his face twisting into a mask of madness.
"Impossible!!!"
"That's mine—!!"
"My most perfect creation!!!"
Behind him, white smoke erupted once again.
And there it was: a tall puppet, wreathed in the aura of Magnet Style.
The true Third Kazekage Puppet!
Sasori's proudest human puppet, infused with the greatest power he had ever stolen.
But another identical one had just fought for Ryota.
How could he accept this?!
"Give it back!!!"
Sasori thrust out his hand, ordering the puppet to unleash its iron sand.
But before it could even complete a single hand seal—
Shhh!
A golden flash cut down from above!
At some point, Ais Wallenstein had leapt high into the air, Feather's Echo in hand.
In the blink of an eye—
SLASH!!
A golden arc fell.
The Third Kazekage Puppet didn't even have time to resist.
It was cleaved clean in two.
CRACK—!
The sound of metal splitting rang out as its parts rained down, clattering onto Sasori's head, shoulders, and feet.
Smashing the last shred of hope he clung to.
Sasori stood paralyzed. His lips parted soundlessly, his eyes blank.
He even forgot to command the rest of his puppets.
"H-how… how is this possible…"
"My puppet…"
His life's work—his masterpiece, the weapon that had terrified nations—was destroyed in a single strike.
----
Join my Patreon for early access to chapters: Patreon.com/rivyura