The battlefield had fallen into a strange, oppressive silence. Even the roaring of flames and the clash of steel seemed muffled, as though the very air was weighed down by an unseen force.
It was Ai's strangled cry that broke the spell. The Raikage's voice, usually fierce and commanding, now carried a trace of desperation. The sound jolted the surrounding shinobi out of their daze, snapping them back to the grim reality before them—Nagato's overwhelming presence.
Only now did they truly grasp the danger they were in.
Ever since Ai had been caught by Nagato's strange, irresistible ability, not a single shinobi had dared to unleash large-scale ninjutsu. Any wrong move could mean striking down an ally instead of the enemy. With ranged techniques too risky, their only option was to close in and rely on taijutsu, hoping their physical skill could break through Nagato's defense.
From the shadows, Karajita Shikura—known for his ghostlike movements—vanished from sight and reappeared behind Nagato, aiming to land a killing blow while the enemy's attention was elsewhere. The flicker of his blade was silent, invisible to most eyes.
But Nagato was not "most."
"Shura Path."
His voice was calm, almost casual.
Then the air split with a mechanical hiss as two segmented, metallic arms unfolded from his back. The sudden sight was so unnatural it made even seasoned warriors falter. One of those mechanical arms whipped out, its clawed fingers clamping around Shikura's throat with bone-crushing force. The other arm transformed, the metal shifting and locking into place until it formed the barrel of a cannon. The muzzle began to spin, gathering an ominous sphere of violet energy that pulsed with barely contained destruction.
Shikura's eyes widened. The killing intent radiating from that cannon was suffocating. His instincts screamed that if the blast hit, there would be nothing left of him—no body, no ashes, nothing but scattered dust in the wind.
He thrashed violently, chakra surging through every muscle, but the mechanical grip around his neck was unyielding. The harder he struggled, the more the steel dug into his skin. The energy sphere in the cannon grew brighter, humming with lethal purpose.
From a distance, Ōnoki saw the scene unfold and his stomach dropped. "No—! Go! Help him!" His shout cracked through the air. As the Third Tsuchikage, he had seen countless battles, but the sheer danger radiating from Nagato's weapon left even him uneasy.
Fugaku of the Uchiha Clan and Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, immediately surged forward in response, but before they could reach Nagato, something unseen coiled around them.
It was not ropes, not vines, not chakra threads—but something that constricted with equal force, holding them fast.
"What the—?!" Fugaku snarled, trying to twist free. His Sharingan flared, scanning the battlefield, but there was nothing visible restraining them.
A voice from the Konoha ranks spoke up—a Hyūga shinobi, his Byakugan active. "Hokage-sama! It's… a chameleon! You're wrapped in its tongue!"
"A chameleon?" Fugaku's eyes darkened. An invisible summoning beast—it explained why they had seen nothing at all.
"What are you waiting for? Go! Help them!" Shisui Uchiha's voice rang out as he bolted forward, his movements a blur.
Several allied shinobi followed suit, sprinting toward the entangled Kage.
But their path was blocked.
A familiar, chilling laugh echoed ahead. "Hehe… we can't let you interfere." Orochimaru stepped into their way, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.
And behind him—Akatsuki.
"What? Only a few of them?" Sasori of the Red Sand frowned beneath his cloak, clearly displeased.
"That's enough," said Biwa Jūzō in his cold, clipped tone. "Too many would just make things… messy."
"Less talk. Stop them," Konan said flatly, her paper wings unfolding in subtle menace.
The Akatsuki members surged forward, colliding with the Allied Shinobi in a violent clash. Steel met steel, ninjutsu burst in flashes of light, and the ground shook beneath their feet.
Meanwhile, back at the center of the storm—
"Shura Cannon!"
Nagato's voice cut like a blade. The cannon's energy discharge lit the battlefield in an instant, the beam striking Shikura's face point-blank.
"Ahhh!" Shikura's scream was swallowed by the explosion as his body was hurled through the air, slamming into the ground with bone-snapping force. His form lay still, his fate uncertain.
"Mizukage!" Ōnoki's voice cracked as he called out, dread flooding his chest.
"Damn it," Fugaku growled through clenched teeth. "So this is the true strength of Akatsuki's leader?"
The chameleon's constriction still bound them tight. They could only watch as Nagato turned toward his next prey.
"Hell Path."
The ground trembled. From behind Nagato, the colossal form of the King of Hell rose from the earth, its grotesque head towering above the battlefield. Its mouth split open, and a grotesque tongue shot out, curling around Shikura's limp body.
With a sickening slurp, the corpse was dragged into its maw.
Nagato's gaze swept to Ai. "Your turn."
Before the Raikage could react, Nagato's hand shot forward. A strange force gripped Ai's very essence, wrenching his soul from his body.
Ai's eyes bulged in horror. "No—!" His voice broke into a desperate scream as he clawed at the empty air, trying to resist. But it was like fighting against the pull of a black hole—impossible.
His soul tore free, leaving his body an empty shell. It slumped to the ground like a discarded puppet.
With cold detachment, Nagato tossed both body and soul into the King of Hell's gaping maw. The massive jaws clamped shut, and a grinding, wet chewing sound filled the air. Slowly, the towering figure began to shrink, sinking back into the ground as though it had never been there.
Two Kage down.
Nagato turned his eyes on the remaining three—Ōnoki, Fugaku, and Rasa. His voice was level, emotionless. "Now… it's your turn."
Ōnoki's expression hardened. "No choice… I'll have to use that technique."
Fugaku and Rasa's eyes widened. "No! Wait!" they shouted in unison, but the old man was already forming the seals.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
A glowing white cube materialized in Ōnoki's hands, radiating a deadly, all-consuming energy.
The chameleon, still coiled around its prey, shrieked as the technique's light washed over it. Its invisible form became visible, shimmering into existence before dissolving, piece by piece, into nothingness.
Freed from its grasp, Fugaku and Rasa moved instantly, weaving hand seals and blasting themselves out of the cube's range. The Dust Release passed harmlessly through empty space where they had stood moments before.
Both men landed heavily, sweat beading on their foreheads.
"That… was too close," Rasa muttered, wiping his brow.
"A second slower, and we'd be dust," Fugaku agreed grimly.
They shot Ōnoki a glance—part irritation, part reluctant gratitude. They might not like his methods, but his timing had saved their lives.
The three Kage regrouped, their eyes locked on Nagato.
"How many abilities does this man have?" Ōnoki muttered, scanning him carefully.
"Gravity… repulsion…" Rasa murmured.
"And he can absorb chakra and ninjutsu," Fugaku added, his face grim.
"The summoning beasts… that laser weapon…" Ōnoki's voice trailed into a low growl. The weight of what they faced was pressing on them all.
The more they spoke, the more the reality sank in—Nagato's Rinnegan granted him powers that seemed almost limitless..
And their forces? The shinobi they had brought were still locked in a brutal struggle with the Akatsuki, unable to come to their aid.
The battle had only just begun, and yet it already felt as though the tide was slipping away from them.
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