The Kaguya clan jonin staggered in disbelief.
A bone spear had pierced straight through Shuryu's flaming skull, yet the dragon hadn't flinched. Instead, it raised a massive claw and swatted him aside like an insect.
Bang!
The Kaguya rolled across the ground, his body bouncing over snow and mud until he finally came to a stop. His bone armor had spared him serious injury, but his appearance was pitiful—hair scorched, skin blistered, body smeared with dirt and ash.
Shuryu's body was flame itself. Physical attacks, even chakra-enhanced ones, were nearly useless.
Unless the strike was overwhelming in power, it might as well have been a tickle. Fire-based ninjutsu fared no better. Water and ice were his true weaknesses.
The Kaguya clan jonin growled and staggered to his feet, only to find himself staring down a wave of searing fire.
Shuryu's jaws opened wide, spewing a torrent that roared forward like an inferno given shape.
Escape was impossible. So instead of dodging, the Kaguya hurled himself into it.
Blue chakra flared over his body, bone spurs jutting out like armor plates, and he roared as he charged straight through the flames.
The firestorm broke apart around him. For a moment he seemed unstoppable, a spinning mass of bone and fury that drilled through the blaze, his massive bone spear driving straight for Shuryu's brow.
But the dragon shrank in an instant, slipping between dimensions of flame and form. The strike whistled through empty air.
The Kaguya crashed to the ground in a heap, his body smoking, flesh charred and hair burned away. The stench of cooked meat rose around him.
He didn't even care about the pain. He only howled in frustration, driven mad by striking nothing.
"Damn it!" one of his comrades shouted.
"Tenzan! This beast is too much for us!"
"Tsuna... get over here!" Tenzan barked back, desperate to trade opponents.
But Tsuna had no better luck. Across the battlefield, Shizukamaru danced like a streak of silver, its unpredictable lunges and lightning-fast thrusts carving shallow cuts across his body. It wasn't as powerful as the great flying swords of legend, but its speed and shifting angles were more than enough to torment him.
Before either could escape, Shuryu's maw gaped wide. Deep red firebombs burst forth, each one swelling as it flew.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Every impact rocked the ground, carving craters two to three meters across. Flame sprayed outward like shrapnel, each detonation no less devastating than modern artillery.
Even Tsuna, whose clan was famed for toughness, dared not take a direct hit. No matter how resilient the body, flesh was still flesh. One blast could be endured, two at most. Beyond that was certain death.
He leapt and rolled, dodging desperately as the ground erupted around him.
The two Kaguya were pinned, their bodies harried by both dragon and sword. Death loomed closer with every passing heartbeat.
Meanwhile, Uchiha Gen returned from the valley. The souls and lifespans of the Mist jonin slain by Orochimaru's poisons now bolstered his own strength.
In his hand gleamed the Thunder Blade Fang; though not as it had been before. Its surface crawled with black contract seals, binding marks that cut through space itself.
The Mist Village had its ways of reclaiming lost blades, summoning them back like contracted beasts. Unless sealed away in another space and bonded to a new master, the swords would always return to their keepers.
But Gen had taken precautions. With the contract seal binding the blade, it was his now.
His thoughts raced. If I can merge the lightning powers into Shizukamaru… perhaps even into other items, swords, or even the Six Paths' tools… then Shizukamaru will never fall behind. It will evolve with me.
He smiled faintly. "Time to end this."
Gen tossed the Thunder Blade to a waiting shadow clone that emerged from the earth. The clone grinned, pouring nearly all of its remaining chakra into the blade.
Tenzan and Tsuna saw the movement. They struggled, desperate to stop it, but Shuryu and Shizukamaru held them fast.
Their only hope was that the Thunder Blade would not recognize Gen as its master.
Their prayers were answered with silence. And then lightning.
From the heavens came two bolts, thick as tree trunks, called down by the blade itself. They struck true, guided by Gen's Sharingan, and slammed directly into the Mist jonin's skulls.
The world went white, then black.
The two collapsed, convulsing, smoke curling from their mouths. Not dead as Gen had deliberately held back the killing but broken, paralyzed, their bodies rendered useless.
The shadow clone handed the sword back and dispersed into smoke.
Gen flickered to Shizukamaru's side, recalling the exhausted blade to its sheath. Then he turned his gaze upon the fallen.
Their eyes glazed over as he wove his hypnotic illusion. Their souls and lifespans yielded willingly, flowing into him like water into a vessel.
Shuryu lumbered over, dropping the charred Kaguya survivor from his jaws at Gen's feet. Gen nodded in approval and drained him the same way.
"It's over," he murmured. Then louder, with a grin: "Let's report to Orochimaru-sensei."
He vaulted onto Shuryu's back, twin Thunder Blades strapped across him. Flames flared beneath the dragon's feet as it took to the skies once more, streaking toward the great serpentine bulk of Manda.
On the southern edge of the battlefield, Fuguki spotted the flaming silhouette descending. His stomach dropped.
"No… not them, too. Reinforcements?!" His face twisted. "If we keep this up, the whole squad will be wiped out!"
"Retreat!" he bellowed. "Retreat, now!"
He spun and fled without shame, flares firing into the sky to signal withdrawal.
The other Mist shinobi did not hesitate. Orderly, disciplined, they began their retreat.
But Uchiha Gen was not about to let them go so easily. His Sharingan spun, locking onto the nearest jonin, and he blurred forward.
Orochimaru's laughter hissed through the air as he urged Manda forward, snakes uncoiling by the thousands in his wake.
The Konoha jonin surged after them. Those of lesser rank held back as they knew the danger of pressing a disciplined retreat with weaker forces.
To overextend now would be death.
The pursuit stretched for dozens of miles, driving the Mist forces all the way back to the eastern heartland of the Whirlpool Country. Only then did Konoha's vanguard slow, satisfied with their rout.
On the return march, many cast sidelong glances at Gen and his fiery companion.
Even Manda, that proud and venomous snake, did not vanish back to Ryūchi Cave immediately. Instead, the giant serpent raised its head high, slitted eyes glimmering with curiosity as it studied Shuryu's blazing form.
The battle had ended. But its echoes of awe, of envy, and of shifting alliances were only just beginning.