The battlefield was silent for a single heartbeat, a silence that carried the weight of mountains pressing down upon the chest of every soul present.
Then, like fragile ash meeting the wind, Might Guy's body began to crumble.
His figure, once so full of vitality, determination, and burning passion, dissolved into countless particles of dust. Slowly, that dust floated upward, scattering under the bleak sky.
Every fragment shimmered faintly as though his very spirit lingered in the air, unwilling to let go of the fight.
The spectacle was too much for those who had witnessed his final stand. The sheer devastation he had brought forth with his forbidden technique had carved itself into the memories of everyone.
Yet in the end, despite his heroic courage and his absolute resolve, Might Guy vanished completely, leaving behind not even a corpse to honor, only fading dust scattered by the cold breeze.
Kakashi Hatake, standing amidst the wreckage, felt his chest tighten with unbearable grief.
His visible eye dimmed with sorrow as he struggled to process the weight of what had just transpired.
The man who had been his eternal rival, the man who had carried him through countless days with challenges and words of fiery spirit, was gone forever.
Kakashi's heart clenched, and his body wavered under the pressure of his sorrow.
He whispered no words, because none could form. Instead, the strength left his legs, and his consciousness slipped into darkness.
His body collapsed heavily onto the broken ground, leaving his comrades to watch in silence as the Copy Ninja succumbed to the weight of grief and exhaustion.
Not far from him, Itachi Uchiha trembled. His usually calm and composed gaze was shattered, replaced with eyes that could not comprehend the truth before him.
His worldview cracked apart like glass splintering under a sudden blow.
Might Guy, a man of flesh and blood, had reached a height of power through sheer determination alone, rivaling the impossible. And yet even that flame had been extinguished in an instant.
The foundations of Itachi's beliefs — the structures of strength, the ideals of shinobi, the inevitability of fate — were shaken to their core. His breath came shallow, his mind blank, his spirit shaken.
Amidst this crushing atmosphere, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, slowly clenched his staff in his hand. His aged eyes reflected both sorrow and unyielding determination.
He had lived long enough to see countless tragedies, but what stood before him now was something that threatened to eclipse every calamity of the past.
Watching Guy disappear, watching Kakashi collapse, and watching Itachi tremble, Hiruzen's heart turned into a steel resolve.
Within his mind, the answer became absolute. This monster cannot be allowed to live any longer.
His thoughts sharpened as he recalled the forbidden jutsu — the Shiki Fujin. The Dead Demon Consuming Seal. A technique that did not merely wound, did not merely kill, but dragged the very soul into the grasp of the Shinigami itself.
If such a technique was unleashed, even a being like Indra would be taken beyond salvation. Even if his body was indestructible, even if his powers surpassed mortals, his soul would be ripped away and bound in eternal suffering.
Hiruzen accepted the cost without hesitation. He knew very well that this decision meant his own death. There was no escaping the cold embrace of the Shinigami.
But as the Hokage, as the protector of the village, as the guardian of every single innocent life behind these walls, he steeled himself to embrace that destiny.
If Indra was to be brought down, then he, Hiruzen Sarutobi, would personally drag the monster to hell with him.
Slowly, he took a step forward. His aura shifted, no longer that of a weary elder, but that of a Hokage who carried the will of fire burning brightly in his chest.
The ANBU watching from the shadows felt this change. For a brief instant, their hearts surged with admiration.
They saw their Hokage's back, straight and resolute, facing the impossible enemy without hesitation.
The sight filled them with pride, with trust, and with a belief that the Hokage would do anything to save the village. Their spirits lifted, their hearts whispered with relief, and in that relief they made a grave mistake.
They misjudged Indra.
The ANBU thought the monster weakened, thought that Guy's sacrifice had bought them safety, thought that Indra's defeat was now possible.
Their eyes gleamed with renewed faith as they placed their complete trust in the Third Hokage, believing that the Hokage's resolve would end this nightmare.
But in front of them stood Indra Uchiha.
The man's lips curled into a smirk that carried nothing but disdain and mockery.
His golden Mangekyō glowed with an almost playful light, reflecting their naivety. His posture was casual, his aura relaxed, his amusement obvious.
He stood as though none of the sacrifices mattered, as though Might Guy's ultimate attack had been nothing but entertainment. With a tilt of his head and the shadow of a smirk, he waited.
He waited for Hiruzen's actions, waited to witness the futility of their hopes, waited to watch despair swallow them whole once again.
Danzo Shimura, standing not far away, narrowed his eyes. Unlike the ANBU, his heart did not swell with pride for Hiruzen's resolve. Instead, a different emotion took root in the shadows of his mind.
As he observed his old friend's stiffened back and firm steps, Danzo's lips tugged upward into a small, crooked smile.
He knew Hiruzen well. He knew that once Hiruzen resolved himself, nothing could sway him. And now, seeing the unshakable resolve in his friend's eyes, Danzo realized what was about to happen.
Hiruzen would sacrifice himself. He would trade his life in an attempt to seal Indra away.
And in that sacrifice, a path would open.
Danzo's mind, poisoned by ambition, immediately leapt to that conclusion. With Hiruzen gone, with Indra destroyed, who else could take the mantle of Hokage? The elders were too weak.
The clans too fractured. But he, Danzo Shimura, the ever-watchful guardian of the village from the shadows, would rise. He would take control of Konoha, rule with an iron hand, and shape the village into his own vision of strength.
As he imagined the throne, as he imagined the power, as he imagined the unquestionable authority of the Hokage's seat, Danzo's crooked smile deepened. Amidst tragedy, he saw opportunity.
Amidst sacrifice, he saw his own triumph.
And thus, the stage was set — Hiruzen's firm resolve, Indra's mocking smirk, and Danzo's hungry smile.
The balance of the battlefield shifted once more, and in that tense silence, the next act of this cruel confrontation prepared to unfold.
The atmosphere in the devastated battlefield grew heavier with every breath that passed.
The ANBU still knelt in silent admiration of their Hokage, their eyes filled with respect, convinced beyond doubt that Hiruzen Sarutobi, the man they had always looked up to as the pillar of the Hidden Leaf, was now about to do something truly divine, something only a Hokage could do.
They believed in his willpower; they believed in his determination; they believed in his ability to end the storm that Indra Uchiha had unleashed.
In their hearts, they whispered silently that this was the moment their village would be saved, that this was the moment they would no longer need to live in fear of Indra's overwhelming shadow.
Indra, however, stood tall with his overwhelming presence radiating like a mountain that could not be shaken.
The faint smirk that curled on his lips was not simply playful; it was mocking, dismissive, cruel. He did not need to speak a word, for his expression alone told the entire story—he was waiting, calmly, arrogantly, for the Hokage's actions.
To Indra, the Hokage's resolve was nothing more than a candle trying to challenge the brilliance of the sun.
Danzo Shimura's gaze, sharp and calculating, turned toward his old friend. Deep inside his heart, he was smiling. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
He could already imagine the end: Indra crushed, the Hokage falling alongside him, and himself rising above the ashes as the new leader of Konoha.
Danzo's thoughts spun with ambition—he would claim the title of Hokage, he would rule the village, he would mold it into his vision of strength and control. Just the image alone was enough to make him smirk quietly in satisfaction.
But before anyone could act, before Hiruzen could make his move with the sealing jutsu Shiki Fujin burning inside his heart, a shadow moved.
A figure suddenly rushed forward, closing the distance toward Indra with sudden determination that shook the surrounding clansmen.
Indra's head tilted slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing in a cold, predatory focus. The smirk on his lips grew sharper, edged with disdain. When he recognized the figure, his voice broke the silence like a whip.
"Fugaku," Indra scoffed with venom, his tone filled with both mockery and contempt, "have you lost your mind? Just get the fuck out of here before I kill you with my own hands."
The words echoed across the tense air. Fugaku Uchiha, the patriarch of the clan, stood tall before Indra, his expression calm yet his voice low and heavy, like steel grinding against steel.
"Indra," Fugaku spoke in a deep voice that carried a strange mixture of authority and desperation, "do you really think you could save everyone? Just admit defeat… ask the Third Hokage for forgiveness. He would definitely save us."
The words fell like stones into a lake, rippling through the battlefield.
Hiruzen Sarutobi's old, wrinkled face softened, and for the first time in that nightmarish clash, his lips curved into a faint, relieved smile. "At least," he whispered inside his heart, "at least there is one standing beside me."
For a brief second, there was a fragile glimmer of reconciliation in the air.
But the Uchiha clansmen watching from the shadows reacted violently.
Uchiha Setsuna, eyes burning with fury, spat on the ground with disdain. "Coward," he hissed. "What weakness, what pathetic submission." The other Uchiha mirrored his anger, disgust etched across their faces, their glares stabbing into Fugaku's back.
To them, their leader's words were not wisdom, not diplomacy, but betrayal, betrayal against the pride of the Uchiha name.
Indra sneered, his tone filled with a blade's sharpness as he turned his eyes directly upon Fugaku. "So, Fugaku," he said with ice in his voice, "you ask us to bow our heads so they can kill us with ease? You wish to trade our dignity, our pride, our bloodline… so that your sons, Itachi and Sasuke, can be spared? What a noble character you truly have."
The words pierced deeper than any kunai.
Fugaku froze, his eyes widening in shock. "How… how did you know?" His voice trembled slightly, betraying the crack in his composure.
The clansmen erupted in anger, their fury directed at him. The betrayal was no longer hidden. The truth was laid bare in front of them, and they clenched their fists in frustration, their hearts boiling with rage at their own patriarch.
Indra's sneer deepened, his eyes glowing with a dangerous glint. "Do you really think you could stop me, Fugaku? Just get lost, or I will not hesitate to kill you." His words were not threats—they were declarations, heavy and merciless.
And then, the aged voice of the Hokage echoed with a deep tone that carried the weight of decades of leadership. "Let's reconcile with each other. Let there be peace."
The ANBU trembled with respect. Fugaku's face relaxed, relief flooding into his expression as he felt the Hokage's words align with his own desperate plea. For a heartbeat, he believed things could truly end here.
But the silence was broken by the arrival of two more figures.
Itachi Uchiha, pale and weary, staggered forward, his body supported by his mother Mikoto. His eyes, usually so calm and unreadable, now carried despair. He raised his head toward Indra, his lips trembling as he spoke.
"Indra… please… just admit defeat. Reconcile. End this."
His plea was not simply words—it was the cry of a boy whose world had been shattered, whose belief in everything had crumbled before his eyes.
Indra's lips curled again, his voice like a dagger stabbing straight into Itachi's chest. "Itachi… do you dare to fight me again?"
The boy's face fell. His soul shook. His voice vanished.
Beside him, Mikoto's voice carried the tone of a mother pleading for sanity. Her words were quiet but filled with emotion. "Indra, your mother and I… we were good friends. I ask you, at least, to save my face. Stop this, for the sake of your mother."
The battlefield froze. Indra's face darkened, his expression twisting with pain, with gloom, with fury. At the mention of his mother, something cracked inside him.
His Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan erupted into brilliance, glowing like twin suns of crimson flame. His voice, when it came, was heavy with unyielding finality.
"Miss Mikoto," Indra said with a deep, icy tone, "I owe you nothing. I have no obligation to save your face. Speak one more word about my mother, and I will kill Fugaku and Itachi right in front of you."
Mikoto lowered her head in silence. A helpless sigh escaped her lips, and nothing more. Her silence spoke of resignation, of the painful truth that she could not change his heart.
Fugaku clenched his fists, his eyes burning as he moved closer to Hiruzen. Standing beside the Hokage, his voice was filled with a strange mixture of resolve and challenge. "Indra… if you really want to continue this, then you will have to face us."
Hiruzen's lips curved into a cold smirk. In the depths of his old mind, he thought with grim satisfaction: The Uchiha, once again, are tearing themselves apart. Their internal conflict… once again benefits me.
And thus, the battlefield stood on the edge once more—clan against clan, son against father, brother against brother. The Hokage's heart hardened with his resolve to use Shiki Fujin. The ANBU held their breaths. Danzo smiled with ambition. Fugaku stood beside the Hokage, rejecting his own kin's fury. Itachi and Mikoto lowered their heads with grief.
And Indra… Indra stood as the storm, as the unshakable wall, as the embodiment of wrath itself. His Eternal Mangekyō burned like fire, and his smirk promised only destruction.
The night grew darker. The tension heavier. And as the final words hung in the air, the chapter ended, leaving the future dangling on a knife's edge.
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End of Chapter
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