The battlefield was finally silent. The sky, once crackling with thunder and chakra, now hung eerily still above the carnage. Fragments of scorched earth, shattered stone, and the remains of burned weapons littered the area like a graveyard for giants.
Only one figure remained standing amid the chaos—Uchiha Makoto.
His breathing was ragged, his eyes half-blurred, the Sharingan flickering as if threatening to extinguish. But even so, he stood tall, refusing to show weakness before the remnants of Kumogakure's forces.
Moments earlier, the First Raikage—once hailed as a mountain of strength, a storm given human form—had been reduced to dust under Makoto's overwhelming strike. The shock of that moment still lingered in the air like smoke.
Behind him, the surviving Akatsuki Ninjas gathered, battered and bloodied but still loyal. His voice, hoarse yet steady, cut through the tension:
"Finish the remaining enemies. Those who can fight are to follow me. We leave immediately."
The order was simple. The execution—merciless.
The Kumogakure shinobi who survived the battle were in no condition to resist. They lay scattered across the battlefield, severely injured and devoid of fighting spirit. The Akatsuki ninjas moved like shadows, executing Makoto's command with ruthless efficiency. The battlefield finally settled into complete quiet.
But Uchiha Makoto knew the silence was deceptive.
His chakras were rapidly draining. His eyes were half-blind. And the battle—despite its glory—had taken too much from him.
The gap between true Kage-level shinobi was like a rift between worlds. Even if his strength had soared from the equivalent of 8,000 points to 80,000—an exponential leap that would terrify anyone—the First Raikage's power had been somewhere around 50,000 to 60,000.
A monster by any standard.
Yet compared to Senju Hashirama? That number was nothing.
Hashirama's strength was measured in hundreds of thousands—even millions when enraged. A man who treated the Nine-Tails like a rowdy pet, subduing it with a single hand.
Makoto couldn't afford to stay here.
Not in this condition.
Not when the main force of Kumogakure lurked nearby, waiting to avenge their fallen leader.
One misstep, one delay, and he would be swallowed by their relentless fury.
There was only one option.
Run.
Immediately.
---
Return to Camp
When he finally reached the temporary Akatsuki stronghold, Uchiha Makoto collapsed onto the bed the moment he entered his tent. His limbs trembled as he lowered himself. His vision swam with fog, and his head pounded with fatigue, yet his heart throbbed with elation.
The First Raikage—one of the foundational pillars of the Ninja World—had died by his hand.
He had blasted him to dust.
This alone ensured the third line of defense was as good as taken. The war between the Akatsuki and Kumogakure, which had raged for nearly four months, would finally reach its conclusion.
Kumogakure's supply routes had been severed by Akatsuki operatives. Their morale was shattered. Their numbers dwindled.
Defeat was inevitable.
Makoto lay flat on his back, staring at the fabric ceiling of his tent as he sorted through the gains and losses of the battle.
A thousand Akatsuki ninjas had died. Supplies were consumed. Medical units stretched thin.
But these losses were within expectation. This was war—victory always came with a price.
Yet what he gained in return…
That was immeasurable.
His feat today would solidify not only his prestige but also his authority. The Akatsuki Ninja Village, once treated as an obscure rogue faction, would now be acknowledged as a true military force by the entire Ninja World.
Internally, his people would rally behind him. Every ninja dreamed of following a leader who fought alongside them, killed enemies for them, brought them glory, and elevated their lives.
No young leader could demand loyalty as effectively as one who could personally slay a founder of a Great Village.
Externally…
The world would tremble.
The reputation of the Akatsuki as a battle-forged force would spread across nations. Some would flock to them out of admiration. Others would comply out of fear. Either way, their influence would soar.
The Uzumaki Clan, always watchful, would tighten their bond with Akatsuki.
The wealthy merchants—sly, profit-seeking, and shrewd—would finally open their coffers without hesitation. They had been hesitant before, unsure if Akatsuki could truly protect their interests.
But now?
Now they would beg to invest.
Previously, the Akatsuki Ninja Village had practically forced investment—taking money from merchants without offering immediate returns. Truthfully, it was daylight robbery packaged as an "opportunity."
But now…
They had proved their worth.
They had proved they could win wars.
They had proved they could make money.
Konoha, despite all its power, would never personally protect merchant caravans. But Akatsuki? They would. They had.
This single fact was enough to shift the financial currents of the entire Ninja World.
The "New Ninja" ideology would spread. Their philosophy could infiltrate foreign nations. Their stories would drive recruitment, propaganda, and influence—turning books into weapons sharper than kunai.
"What has your village accomplished?"
"The Akatsuki Ninja Village developed talent, weapons, techniques… and even reshaped the battlefield!"
It was all coming together.
And then there was Senju Tobirama.
Makoto clicked his tongue.
That "old Senju ghost"—cunning, ruthless, inherently distrustful of anything related to the Uchiha—had originally planned to meddle in the war. He had stalled, hesitated, likely plotting to take advantage of the conflict for his own gain.
But Makoto's complete victory crushed any plan Tobirama might have had.
The First Raikage was dead.
The third line of defense was gone.
Kumogakure's defeat was sealed.
What could Konoha possibly say now?
Unless Tobirama didn't mind destroying his own reputation by interfering with an already-settled conflict… which, considering his personality, was entirely possible.
Still, Makoto held the advantage.
The Uzumaki Clan was watching closely.
If Tobirama caused trouble, Makoto would simply stir discord between him and Uzumaki Shinji.
Even if Hashirama intervened, Tobirama would clearly be in the wrong.
Satisfied with his thoughts, Makoto finally allowed himself to sink into sleep.
He slept for an entire day and night.
---
The Awakening
When he awoke, his vision remained hazy and his limbs heavy. His injuries had been bandaged. Several medical ninjas were quietly working around him.
"Kage-sama is awake!"
Their voices echoed with relief. And within seconds, the senior Akatsuki officers who had been waiting outside rushed into the tent.
"Kage-sama! You really killed the First Raikage yourself?"
"Incredible!"
"With this, the war is ours!"
Makoto, still groggy, couldn't help smiling. Their joy was infectious.
They had captured the third line of defense. Everything was proceeding exactly as he expected.
"How could a mere First Raikage defeat me?" Makoto said, lifting himself up slightly. "I blasted him into dust—cleanly and directly."
Pride swelled in the tent like heat rising from a fire.
It was true—before this battle, Makoto's name had not yet shaken the Ninja World. Without the title of Akatsuki Kage, his fame would have been no greater than that of a wandering stray dog.
But now?
He had stepped into the realm of legends—by standing atop the corpse of a predecessor.
One of the senior officers leaned forward anxiously.
"Kage-sama… about the third line of defense. We… encountered an issue."
Makoto frowned.
"What issue?"
"It's Iwagakure."
The tent fell silent.
Makoto's eyes narrowed sharply.
Another village had entered the game.
And depending on their intentions…
The war might not be over just yet.
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)