They already called him the undying monster, so why were they still obsessed with killing him? Ryosuke thought bitterly. Were they fools?
The First Kazekage stood in shock, eyes vacant. "Impossible… how can he be completely unharmed? An attack like that should have obliterated anyone."
What now? The First Mizukage and First Tsuchikage had yet to enter the fight, but their faces were equally grim.
Hashirama looked at the shaken Kage and said calmly, "Don't be surprised. From the beginning, our goal today was to drain his stamina and seal him. Killing him was never an option."
"Why not?"
"Because he cannot be killed."
"Ridiculous! Nothing in this world is immortal!" the First Raikage shouted.
"You need to understand who we're facing. Sato Ryosuke has crushed entire shinobi clans without a scratch on him. He's the monster who cannot die. You cannot even make him bleed."
Hashirama's voice dropped as memories surfaced. "I have never seen him bleed, not once since we were children. No matter the attack, it never worked. My father, a powerhouse on par with the super-Kage, could not break through Ryosuke's defense even when he was still a lowly genin. From that day, I knew—there was no killing him."
"A true monster…" someone whispered.
Behind Hashirama, Senju Tobirama finally moved, signaling with his hand. Several squads broke off, sprinting straight toward Ryosuke.
Ryosuke's eyes narrowed as he saw the figures rushing at him. When he recognized them, fury flared.
"Hashirama, you bastard."
Every single one of them was his subordinate, or comrades and old friends from the past. How was he supposed to cut them down?
He might be called the undying monster, but that didn't make him heartless. These were the men who had fought and bled beside him. To kill them would be to cut out his own heart.
Rumors painted him as ruthless and cold, but that was toward enemies, never toward his own.
Hashirama watched his hesitation and knew his plan was working. Dirty, yes, but brutally effective—because no one knew Ryosuke better than he did.
If not for Ryosuke's naked ambition to unify the shinobi world through slaughter, perhaps Hashirama would never have turned against him.
Seeing Hashirama's quiet smile, Ryosuke cursed inwardly. Shameless fool. When I get my hands on you, I'll smash your skull.
His expression twisted in irritation. Against enemy shinobi, he would crush hearts without hesitation. But here? Familiar faces froze his hand.
Like Akimichi Jirō, clan head of the Akimichi. The man had often welcomed Ryosuke into his home, his wife's cooking among the few warm comforts in that bloody world. How could he kill someone like that?
Damn Hashirama. And worse, among them were pieces Ryosuke himself had placed.
With a snarl, he grabbed a Konoha ninja in each hand, flung his club away, and slammed his fists into their skulls just hard enough to knock them out. Then he hurled their limp bodies like cannonballs straight at Hashirama.
"Take them back!" he growled coldly.
"Damn you!" Hashirama's face tightened as more and more unconscious Konoha shinobi rained back toward him. The plan had backfired—Ryosuke was not hindered in the slightest.
Ryosuke exhaled sharply, frost steaming from his lips. His body swelled, muscles bulging, his form warping into something titanic, as if Kaido himself strode the battlefield.
"I am Sato Ryosuke! Who dares face me!" he bellowed, crushing an elite Kage-level shinobi in one swing of his club.
Around him, the Allied Shinobi Army faltered, feet dragging under the weight of his murderous aura.
Already, more than a hundred corpses lay strewn at his feet.
"Is he even human? Why won't he die?"
"Why are we fighting something like this?"
"He's immortal!"
"Fools!" the First Mizukage Byakuren roared. "Don't forget how many of our comrades have died by his hand! Don't forget his nature! If we fail to kill him today, he will unleash his vengeance on our villages, on our families!"