"Kh… kh…"
Blood gushed from Yuto's mouth, spilling endlessly.
In his current state, even without another attack from Madara and Hashirama, he wouldn't last long.
So neither of them rushed in. Who knew what final trump card Yuto might have? If he lashed out before dying, they lacked his immortality.
They were waiting. Waiting for him to collapse.
They understood his undying body well enough. It was fearsome—yet not as flawless as it seemed.
A whole room's worth of intel, combined with Konoha's think tank, had revealed its limits.
When Yuto died, his resurrection took one to three seconds, depending on the severity of his wounds.
That window was all they needed. They could seal him dozens of times over, trapping him in an endless death loop. He wouldn't truly die—but he wouldn't live, either.
Madara and Hashirama waited.
And so did Yuto.
"You two… really think… you've already won…"
His breath was ragged, his eyes rolling back from the pain.
Both men frowned. They caught the spark of confidence buried in his words.
"Madara."
Hashirama's voice was low.
Madara nodded, Mangekyō spinning again. He aimed to drown Yuto in genjutsu, ending him once and for all.
Boom! Boom!
But then, two explosions roared across the battlefield.
"Hyōton—Ice Encasing All Creation!!"
"Kaguya Clan—Dance of the Early Fern!!"
The shouts rang from behind Yuto.
The once-warm air turned frigid, the ground freezing over in sheets of ice. Spikes of bone erupted upward, merging with the frost into a forest of crystalline bone.
Each jagged piece gleamed like steel.
Hashirama and Madara leapt skyward to evade.
"Mizunoyuki Byakuren… and Taketori Ketsuya."
Madara's voice was calm as he named the two figures who appeared beside Yuto.
Both were leaders of clans fiercely loyal to him. Their presence was no surprise.
Yuto's eyes fell on the massive jars they carried. A faint smile tugged his lips.
"Byakuren, Ketsuya—I'll trouble you two this time."
"Yuto-sama, let us fight at your side!"
Byakuren's tone was firm, eyes burning with resolve.
Despite his delicate name, Byakuren was no woman—only a weathered old man.
Yuto waved them off, taking one of the towering jars into his hands. Its surface was plastered with sealing tags.
"Leave. Now. What's coming isn't a battle you can take part in."
"But—"
"Lord Yuto…"
Their voices wavered with worry.
"Leave! That's an order from your Mizukage. You two are the only remaining Kage-level power in Kirigakure. If anything happens to you, the village will collapse."
His tone left no room for argument.
The weight in his words struck them silent. They heard the note of farewell.
They wanted to protest, but a single look from Yuto silenced them.
Byakuren bit down, grabbed Ketsuya's arm, and pulled him away.
"Why retreat? We could still buy him a chance!" Ketsuya wrenched his arm free, voice shaking with anger.
"Don't forget—our lord cannot die. Even if he falls, he will return. Perhaps we won't live to see it, but Kirigakure will. Our duty now is to protect the village, gather strength, and when Yuto-sama rises again, lend him our power to unify the shinobi world."
"This isn't just my will. It was Yuto-sama's plan—and the will of the village elders."
Byakuren's voice was heavy with finality.
Ketsuya's body trembled.
So… Yuto-sama had foreseen Konoha's strike from the start.
—
At the battlefield's center—
Yuto's eyes burned with manic excitement as he tore the seals from the jar.
Roar!
A monstrous chakra surged skyward, soaked in bloodlust.
"No—he's drawing on the Three-Tails!"
Madara's face hardened in shock.
Hashirama realized too, shouting: "Stop him!"
"It's already too late!"
Yuto laughed as the jar burst open, releasing the slumbering Bijū within.
This era may not belong to Kirigakure—it may belong to Konoha.
But even knowing that, Yuto would still defy the heavens.
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