"What… what is that monster?"
"High-density chakra mixed with the Uchiha clan's unique ocular power forming an armor like this… both its defense and offense shoot up. And this doesn't even look like its final form…"
Worthy of a top shinobi from the Warring States era, the First Raikage analyzed Susanoo within seconds. In simple terms: he'd opened a giant mecha.
A more than thirty-meter half-bodied Susanoo loomed before him.
Uchiha Makoto radiated a killing intent as cold and cutting as ice, pressing straight toward the First Raikage.
The Raikage showed no fear. He was a warrior who had carved his way through piles of corpses. Makoto's power did set every alarm in his body blaring and sent his pulse racing, but at the same time a rare excitement stirred. He casually wiped the blood from his injured right fingers and laughed boldly.
"Imitating the Uchiha cackle?"
"Let's see if you can keep laughing."
Makoto sneered, wiped away the blood at the corner of his eye, and Susanoo's four gigantic fists snapped out, swatting at the First Raikage like a man slapping flies.
The fists were blindingly fast.
"So fast!"
The Raikage flashed and weaved, yet still had to eat two blows. They sent him skidding tens of meters, smashing through boulders before he could stop. He coughed blood several times before steadying himself.
Ordinary techniques—ninjutsu and the like—struggled to pierce the First Raikage's defense. But plain, honest, physical power can overwhelm all finesse. A sword might be dodged if it misses a vital spot; a great hammer can pulp bone and rupture organs in one strike.
"To keep that kind of speed in such a massive frame… terrifying. His power and defense… head-on is impossible."
The Raikage's condition was poor; he was at a loss. His Hell Stab worked by using explosive acceleration to puncture a defense. It was his best armor-breaker, yet it had done nothing and cost him four fingers.
"So, I really have to go all out…"
"Secret Art: Flesh and Blood Ablaze!"
Hands folding at his chest, the First Raikage chose to burn his life. His massive muscles shrank at speed; in a blink his frame returned to normal size, but his aura climbed and climbed.
Watching, the Kumogakure shinobi burst into jubilation. "There it is! The ultimate of the Raikage clan's secret art! The posture is suppressed back to normal, but this isn't the usual training seal—this time he's clamping down on his body by pure force. His muscle density is terrifying. His power and defense have leapt, and even his speed…"
"So strong… worth dying to witness this!"
The Raikage tapped the ground and became an even swifter bolt of lightning.
A fist hurtled in.
Makoto didn't dodge.
He didn't need to.
His Susanoo was only at the half-bodied, second stage, but with vast ocular power poured in, its offense and defense far outstripped a typical Susanoo of that stage.
Still, Makoto felt something was missing: he had yet to awaken the Mangekyō Sharingan. The damned system had only been stacking his stats—chakra and ocular power already at Mangekyō levels—yet the eyes hadn't opened, lacking a trigger.
Susanoo's fist met the Raikage's.
The collision thundered; shockwaves churned up dust, forcing onlookers to cross their arms against the blast while they stared at the center of the field.
When the haze lifted,
the First Raikage had been blasted into a cliff face—yet Makoto felt something off. He had clearly landed the hit, but his force had twisted away.
"Not bad at all."
The Raikage walked out of the rock as if nothing had happened.
"I get it."
"Dispersal of force."
"The highest realm of taijutsu skill."
"Raikage-sama actually pulled it off, and at a very pure level."
A Cloud ninja shouted in surprise, but Makoto had no time to care. The Raikage flashed in again, his body loose and boneless, terrifying strength coiled within that lightness, and drove a fist at Makoto.
This punch carried not only the Raikage's own power but also returned Makoto's previous force in full.
Its might was monstrous.
Susanoo's guard cracked.
From the knuckles up the arm, fractures raced across the half-bodied frame, and even Makoto himself reeled. His vision went dark for several seconds before he refocused, eyes locked on the Raikage.
He liked to think he'd seen a lot. Might Guy's world-shaking kick had almost ended a story; that had stunned Makoto in his youth. But the shinobi world still held surprises—he hadn't expected taijutsu like this.
One school is pure hardness. The other, ultimate softness.
"Keep hitting me."
"You can still stand, can't you?"
The Raikage grinned wide and laughed, but Makoto laughed louder, a little mad, and a bad feeling crept over the Raikage.
"When I say I'll blast you to dust, I'll blast you to dust."
"Susanoo."
Makoto barked, and the shattered Susanoo restored itself.
Not done yet.
Arms, ribs, torso—the giant half-skeleton reformed. Flesh wrapped the bones, its height passing fifty meters.
Makoto kept pushing.
"More."
He could feel his eyes hadn't reached their limit.
Moments later,
flesh was clad in armor, the height swelling beyond seventy meters.
"Come brawl."
Makoto's fighting spirit surged. Dispersal of force was an unforeseen realm of taijutsu, but skill is still skill. Against absolute power, skill becomes a joke.
He did not believe the Raikage could shatter this third-stage Susanoo.
The Raikage didn't hesitate. He became lightning and crashed in. Fists, whip-kicks, elbows, knees—every tool he had. Each time Makoto's blow fell, the Raikage bled off most of the power and slung part of it straight back.
Makoto didn't dodge. He ate it all, and each strike he threw was heavier than the last. The feedback didn't make him relent; it drove him into battle-frenzy.
The wind howled off their punches; his will to fight roared on.
They fought faster and more ferociously, past any thought of withdrawal.
After a dozen minutes of brutal exchanges, the Raikage's Lightning Armor was on the verge of shattering. His tempered body was bathed in blood—his own.
Another clash of fists—
and at last the Raikage broke. Drenched in blood and sweat, a man of gore, he bent double, gasping.
"Keep going."
Makoto smiled.
His vision had begun to blur, as if veiled in white mist—that sign that ocular power was about to run dry.
Each stage of Susanoo multiplies the chakra and ocular power required to maintain it in battle.
Uchiha Itachi pinched pennies on Amaterasu for years, and only opened Susanoo that once—to fight his little brother. That little brother, after getting Mangekyō, showed it off to everyone he saw and burned the eyes out in a week.
Makoto was no exception.
If he kept this up he'd go blind.
But he still smiled, because he knew he would win.
Beat the First Raikage and live, and even if his eyes bottomed out and his sight plunged, the "system" would refill his ocular power later. He'd just have to put Susanoo on a long cooldown—ten days to half a month.
"Come on."
The Raikage smiled too.
It had been a glorious fight. A shame he hadn't won. He didn't want to die—he was hot-tempered, not stupid. What would become of the village he founded?
Unwilling… but
reality was clear.
He couldn't run. Better to die with dignity.
He charged once more.
One more blow landed.
Even dispersal has limits.
The Raikage was hammered deep into the ground and did not rise. He was too exhausted, too wounded, bleeding too much to stand again.
"As the first Kage I've killed, I'll grant you a dignified death."
"This next shot will be immense."
"It will reduce you to dust."
"Say thank you."
Makoto looked down from on high. Susanoo drew the bow and nocked the arrow, charging up. The technique's power was colossal, but its wind-up long; he hadn't used it midfight because the Raikage would dodge it. Not everyone is as hard-headed as Madara, willing to take a massive, slow charge to the face.
"Hmph… thank you."
"I hope you'll show Kumogakure mercy."
"And… why for two chunin…"
"If I had agreed to your terms of compensation back then… could this war have been avoided…"
Words soften at the end of life.
In his final moments the Raikage rambled. He worried most about Kumogakure. If he died and the third defensive line fell to Akatsuki's main force, the future was grim. With a Kage dead and supply lines cut, surrender would be the only option.
He also felt wronged, a chest full of grievance.
Why?
Why fight to the bitter end over two chunin?
"No. I was always going to fight this war."
Makoto shook his head. Those harsh "compensation terms" were meant to pick a fight. If the Raikage had yielded, Makoto would simply have escalated further. This was the perfect time to weaken the village that had swept the First Shinobi War.
And there are no ifs.
Those terms were humiliation in all but name; Makoto was certain no First-generation Kage would ever accept them.
"What?"
"I would have signed even those terms, and you still wage war on Kumogakure?"
The answer hit the Raikage like another blow. He could have agreed to humiliating terms, yet Makoto would still have brought war. Was Makoto truly deranged?
"Which matters more to me—two chunin, or Kumogakure's compensation?"
"Of course, Kumogakure's compensation."
"Wrong. Try again."
"Then the chunin."
"Wrong. Keep guessing."
"Still the compensation."
"No. The absence of your Kumogakure matters to me more."
"Do you understand?"
"I do."
The Raikage finally grasped Makoto's ambition. Kumogakure was doomed. Then he thought of Konoha.
"Did Konoha put you up to this?"
"Compared to your village, the absence of Konoha matters to me even more."
"You really are a bastard."
"All right. Chat time is over. Time to send you off."
Makoto had no intention of wasting more time. He'd kindly let the man die understanding, and the Raikage used his last breaths to curse him. Truly thankless.
The arrow fell.
A vast detonation answered.
The First Raikage was blasted to dust.
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