"It's impossible to have this kind of physical strength for normal people, let alone for a kid," one of the surviving jonin reasoned aloud, his voice carrying across the water to rally his comrades. "So he's most likely using some forbidden technique."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the ranks as the logic took hold. It made sense—no natural ability could account for what they had just witnessed.
"And it most likely cannot be used by anyone else in the Uzumaki clan," the jonin continued, his confidence growing with each word. "If it could, how could they afford to send a child to fight? And the heir apparent at that!"
The reasoning was sound, and hope began to bloom in hearts that had been crushed by despair just moments before. If this power was unique to this one child, and if it required such an enormous chakra expenditure, then survival was still possible.
"So we just have to hold on until his chakra runs out!"
A seasoned Jonin from Kumogakure stepped forward, taking command of the demoralized forces. His weathered face bore the scars of countless battles, and his presence alone helped steady the nerves of younger shinobi.
"Follow my lead," he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Let us wash away today's shame!"
The ninja looked at the monster standing there so casually, swallowed their fear, and felt their hearts begin to beat faster. The familiar rhythm of pre-battle adrenaline coursed through their veins—a sensation they all knew well.
Most likely, many would die here. It wasn't as if they weren't afraid of death—everyone was. Fear was natural, human, unavoidable. But when you lived in a world where life-and-death battles were a fundamental part of existence, where violence was woven into the very fabric of daily life, then your actions wouldn't be paralyzed by the certainty of walking toward death. It was simply part of their reality as shinobi.
Death was an old acquaintance, and they had made their peace with it long ago.
Elric watched as the ninja began shouting battle cries. First one, then ten, then hundreds, until finally all seven thousand ninja started running toward him in a massive wave of humanity and steel.
A small smile played across the young Uzumaki's lips. He felt a little happy, actually.
The plan had been to capture as many of them as possible, but the premise was that they wouldn't resist. According to his agreement with the clan elders, he would also refrain from killing people who had lost their fighting intent and surrendered.
His thoughts drifted momentarily to the knowledge that weighed heavily on his shoulders. In the original timeline—the one he remembered from another life—all of the Uzumaki clan had been exterminated in this very invasion. If he hadn't been here, if he hadn't possessed this power and these memories, there was no doubt they would meet the same fate.
He had lived in Uzushiogakure for twelve years now. Almost everyone here was family to him—not just by blood, but by bonds forged through shared meals, training sessions, festivals, and the countless small moments that made up a life. How could he not feel anger at those who would destroy everything he held dear?
In his rage, he had almost decided to kill them all. The temptation had been overwhelming—to unleash his full power and paint the ocean red with the blood of those who dared threaten his home.
But after much persuasion from the clan elders, and because of the overall political situation that would follow, he had agreed to keep as many alive as possible. Mercy, they said, would serve Uzushiogakure better in the long term than massacre.
A black staff materialized in Elric's hand, the dark chakra weapon humming with barely contained power. The familiar weight felt comfortable in his grip, like an extension of his own will.
His mouth curved slightly upward in what could generously be called a smile, though there was no warmth in it—only the cold promise of overwhelming force.
"I will try to keep you alive," he said softly, his words carried across the water by chakra-enhanced projection, ensuring every charging ninja could hear him clearly.
His lazy eyes swept across the approaching army with casual indifference, as if he were observing ants marching toward their doom rather than thousands of elite warriors.
"But you might not want to be."
The black staff began to glow with ominous energy as seven thousand ninja closed the distance, their battle cries echoing across the morning sea like the roar of an approaching tsunami.