"Raizen-sama, isn't this a bit reckless?"
A nervous jonin from the coalition spoke up the moment Amamiya Raizen issued his order.
Raizen didn't even glance at him. "The way of war isn't about comfort," he said flatly. "Speed wins. We've already crushed their front line—morale's in freefall. If we strike now, before they breathe, we win. So stop whining and move."
The man shut up fast. No one else dared say a word.
Inuzuka Daisaku, standing beside Raizen, gave a small sigh. Once Raizen decided something, you might as well argue with thunder. "Understood," he said simply, then turned to the officers. "Form up! Prepare for immediate deployment!"
Orders echoed through camp. Armor buckled, flags rose, chakra surged.
By noon, two thousand shinobi stood ready under Raizen's command, heading toward the Hyūga Coalition's encampment north of Sarutobi Ridge.
A hundred li for a ninja force meant nothing. In less than two hours, the Amamiya banners cut through the haze, thundering toward the enemy line like a living storm.
"Report!"
A scout dropped to one knee before Sarutobi Sanbei, commander of the Hyūga Coalition. "Lord Sarutobi! Amamiya Raizen, patriarch of the Amamiya Clan, is advancing on us with two thousand shinobi!"
"What?" Sanbei shot to his feet. His hand trembled before he slammed it on the table. "That damn brat—he's chasing us already?"
He barked for the senior officers. Within minutes, the leaders of the coalition's fractured clans crowded the war tent—dozens of grim faces from the Hyūga, Sarutobi, and minor allies who barely tolerated each other.
"He's insane," someone muttered. "Amamiya Raizen wants to finish us in one strike."
"Let him come," another snapped. "He won't leave alive!"
"Big talk," sneered a Hyūga elder. "Wasn't it your men who ran first last time?"
"You bastard—!"
"Enough!" Sanbei roared, slamming his fist down again. The table cracked. "You're supposed to be commanders, not market vendors! We're on the brink of collapse, and you're bickering like children?"
Silence fell.
He glared at them, voice low and cold. "Argue less, think more. How do we deal with the Amamiya army?"
A Hyūga jonin hesitated, then said quietly, "...We can't. Their numbers and morale are higher. We should retreat before we lose everyone."
"Retreat?" Sanbei exhaled heavily, looking toward the back of the tent where the pale-eyed Hyūga Tennin sat.
Tennin's face was unreadable, but his tone cut like frost. "There will be no retreat. I sent three thousand men to crush Raizen's army once. Two thousand died before they even reached his camp." His hands tightened on the armrest. "If we run now, the Hyūga name becomes a joke. We hold here. Until death if we must."
The tent went dead still. No one dared challenge him.
Finally, one of Sanbei's Sarutobi captains broke the silence. "Then we fortify. Build Earth-Style barricades, trap layers, and use the camp as our stronghold. Let them come—we'll bleed them at the walls."
Sanbei nodded. "Agreed. Get to it. Everyone else, prepare for defense!"
The command spread like wildfire. Earth-Style users slammed their hands to the ground, raising defensive platforms around the perimeter until the Hyūga camp looked like a fortress of stone.
And beyond the horizon, Raizen's army appeared.
From a distant ridge, Raizen surveyed the enemy's new fortifications. Thick walls, elevated battlements, and enough chakra signatures to light up his Byakugan vision like a fireworks show.
He grinned. "How adorable. They built me a stage."
Turning to his men, he raised his voice. "Wait here until I tear those walls down myself. Then you move in."
The soldiers didn't question it. When Raizen said "myself," he meant it.
He stepped forward alone, cloak rippling in the wind. His right eye burned crimson and black—the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan. His left eye blazed white with faint violet veins—the stolen Byakugan.
Both opened fully.
The world sharpened. Chakra veins, heartbeat patterns, shifting heat signatures—everything was visible.
"Let's begin," he muttered.
From atop the Hyūga defenses, Sarutobi Sanbei spotted movement in the trees. At first, just a flicker. Then a lone figure emerged, walking straight toward the camp.
"...He came alone?"
His jaw tightened. "Insulting."
He thrust his arm forward. "Archers! Kunai! Fire!"
A storm of steel filled the air. Kunai, shuriken, and paper bombs descended like a metal rainstorm.
Raizen didn't dodge. His Mangekyō pulsed—space warped, sound twisted, and his body flickered out of phase. The barrage passed through him like mist.
By the time the last blade hit the ground, he was still walking. Untouched.
"What the hell—?"
"Genjutsu?"
"No," Sanbei whispered, pupils shrinking. "It's real."
He roared, "Ninjutsu volley! Fire Release, Lightning, anything! Burn him down!"
Explosions rippled across the front. Fireballs, wind scythes, bolts of lightning—all tore through the air where Raizen stood.
They hit nothing.
He kept moving, unharmed, each step steady and silent.
"There's no such thing as an invincible technique!" Sanbei shouted, desperate now. "Push forward! Engage him directly!"
The Hyūga coalition roared as the first line jumped from their barricades, racing toward the man who walked like a ghost through fire.
Raizen's lips curved upward.
"Perfect."