The battle between Yuto and the two legends shook the entire shinobi world.
Unimaginable chakra.
Ninjutsu beyond counting.
Strength so vast it reshaped the land with every gesture.
All of it shattered the shinobi world's perception. Everyone knew Hashirama, Madara, and Yuto were monsters—but this three-day war carved that truth into history.
From Konoha, Kirigakure, Sunagakure, Kumogakure, Iwagakure—countless shinobi hid at the edge of the battlefield, watching in silence.
Even with their skills, they could see only vague shadows clashing at the center.
It wasn't cowardice. To step closer meant instant death from the battle's aftershocks. This was simply a different world.
For Konoha and Kirigakure, the mood was complicated. The other villages? Their faces stayed calm. Whoever won or lost, they could only accept the outcome. Resistance? A dream for those who didn't want their villages erased.
Boom. Boom.
Explosions still rang out, though weaker than before.
Then a furious roar split the heavens—but ended abruptly.
The battlefield fell silent.
Every watcher stiffened. One thought filled their minds: *It's over.*
Far off, the Kirigakure shinobi felt despair wash over them. They knew that voice too well. It was Yuto.
*Go underground.*
*Wait for Yuto-sama's return.*
The orders spread through whispers, messages already racing back to their village.
At the battlefield's heart—
Madara and Hashirama stood wrecked. Their clothes were torn to scraps barely covering their bodies. Wounds covered them, blood pouring endlessly.
Opposite them, Yuto stood straight-backed, life almost gone. With his one remaining hand, he raised his middle finger at them.
"Even dying… he still mocks us?"
Hashirama wiped blood from his mouth, smiling bitterly.
"To have a foe like this is exhilarating. If he'd been better prepared—if he hadn't rushed to consume the Three-Tails—victory might have gone either way."
Madara's eyes gleamed with both pity and relief. His pride meant nothing before Yuto.
Thinking of Yuto's last desperate counterattack, both men shuddered. Had they not held back their trump cards, he might have dragged one of them to the grave.
"It's over, Hashirama. Before he revives—use the Uzumaki seals."
Madara clutched his chest, voice heavy.
Hashirama nodded, pressing his hand to the ground. With what little chakra remained, he conjured a coffin of solid wood, enclosing Yuto completely.
Biting his thumb, he slammed the ground, summoning a giant scroll. He unfurled it and flung it toward the coffin. Black lines and strange sigils spilled out, crawling over the wood, sealing it tight.
Only then did Hashirama collapse onto the ground, utterly spent.
Madara's eyes narrowed with unease. He flew through seals, and waves of mud surged, burying the coffin. He exhaled fire, hardening it into stone. Again and again, until a solid mass—nearly a hundred meters wide—sat before them like a mountain.
"Where will you put him?" Madara asked.
"In another dimension. Nowhere else is safer, or quieter."
Hashirama's lips twitched. That massive lump had been reforged dozens of times—harder than steel. Even if Yuto hadn't been sealed, breaking free from inside would have been nearly impossible.
And without chakra infused into it, his absorption meant nothing.
As Hashirama spoke, the mountain-sized boulder vanished in a puff of white mist—banished to another space.
—
*One year before Konoha's founding:*
The battle of the Three Legends ended. The First Mizukage, Yuto, fell. The age of Konoha truly began.
*Konoha Year 3:*
Hashirama and Madara clashed at the Valley of the End. Madara fell. Soon after, Hashirama himself passed away.
With the last of the Three Legends gone, the world once more stirred, storms brewing on the horizon.
But from then on, none of it had anything to do with Yuto.
//Check out my Patreon for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[[email protected]/Razeil0810](http://[email protected]/Razeil0810)