The violent shockwave from the body's explosion tore through the forest, uprooting trees and shattering them into fragments. The ground churned, mud and earth spraying into the air, all painted in a mist of crimson.
The one who stood at the very peak of the shinobi world—Hanzo of the Salamander—had been defeated in a single strike by this young man?
On the battlefield below, the three young shinobi of Konoha stared up in disbelief at the figure hovering in midair—Raiden Takuma. The power of that one strike had shaken them to their core.
Even their teacher, Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage himself, would never dare claim he could fell Hanzo in a single blow. And yet, before their eyes, this stranger had not only defeated him, but obliterated him—scattering Hanzo's body into nothing more than blood and mist.
Orochimaru, whose sharp eyes had been watching Raiden's every movement, was trembling with excitement. That light, effortless palm strike carried an overwhelming surge of chakra, and at the very moment it touched Hanzo, Raiden had driven all of that chakra directly into his opponent's body. Then—detonation. Hanzo had been blasted apart from within, leaving behind only red vapor.
It was a technique that demanded unfathomable control over chakra—delicate enough to inject it seamlessly into an enemy's body, yet unstable enough to erupt in violent destruction once inside.
Orochimaru's obsession with ninjutsu burned like a fever in his veins. Even through his fear, his golden eyes gleamed with ambition.
Jiraiya and Tsunade were equally shaken. The three of them, working together, had never been able to push Hanzo back decisively. Yet now, Hanzo had been annihilated in a single instant by this mysterious young man.
"Great one," Orochimaru suddenly dropped to one knee, his voice filled with reverence, "this humble Orochimaru wishes to follow you and learn your arts!"
Raiden Takuma looked down from the air. Orochimaru's gaze was intense, full of desperate hope.
In the original world Raiden remembered, Orochimaru would one day become the greatest threat of the early era—a shadowy figure driven by dark ambitions. And though this Orochimaru was still young, still uncorrupted, Raiden could already see it: the sharp glimmer of desire in his eyes, cold and dangerous like a serpent biding its time.
Jiraiya and Tsunade exchanged startled glances. A shinobi could indeed have more than one teacher, but to suddenly beg to apprentice under this stranger in the middle of a battlefield? It was shocking.
"You are not worthy."
Raiden's reply came instantly, cold and merciless, cutting through the silence like a blade.
The three on the ground froze in disbelief. Orochimaru—genius of the Land of Fire, handpicked disciple of the Third Hokage himself—rejected so casually?
But Raiden Takuma was no ordinary man. He was a sovereign who had once ruled over both righteous and demonic paths alike. Countless prodigies with ancient bloodlines and heavenly gifts had begged to call him master, and he had refused them all.
To him, Orochimaru was no more than an insect with slightly sharper fangs. As his disciple? Laughable.
Orochimaru lowered his head, shadows darkening his eyes, his pride crumbling under the weight of that rejection. Bitterness simmered behind his lashes, his jaw tight with unspoken resentment.
Jiraiya, recognizing the danger of the moment, quickly placed a steadying hand on his comrade's shoulder. Against a being whose strength surpassed even the Kage, they could not afford even the smallest slight.
"We are shinobi of Konohagakure," Jiraiya said, his tone unusually respectful. "It is our honor to meet you, great one. Might we invite you to our village to rest? Surely the Hokage would be overjoyed to welcome you."
"Yes," Tsunade added, her voice earnest, "please, come to the village with us. I am certain Lord Hokage would be honored to speak with someone of your power."
Her eyes lingered on Raiden, a mixture of awe and curiosity. The violent, terrifying strike he had unleashed upon Hanzo was undeniable—but it was also proof of his overwhelming strength. And strength was always respected in their world.