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The battlefield roared around them, golden fireballs shrieking through the air like miniature suns.
Uchiha Feiyu slipped between them like a nimble bird, weaving through heat and shockwaves. The blasts tore up the ground behind him, but he didn't spare them a glance—his short sword flared with dazzling white light as he flashed straight toward Pakura.
Pakura's bodily speed was nowhere near Feiyu's.
But she didn't need to move fast.
With a thought, the two golden fireballs rotating behind her spun around, sliding between them like two miniature suns forming a shield.
Feiyu's body halted abruptly, his blade biting only into burning air.
Scorch Release wasn't just powerful—it was nimble.
Those orbs weren't just for offense; right now, they were acting as a mobile shield. Feiyu had no intention of testing them with his flesh.
On the other hand, Pakura's attacks, for all their heat, couldn't realistically threaten Feiyu either.
Her reactions and ninjutsu casting were simply too slow compared to his acceleration. After a full barrage of roaring fireballs, all she'd managed was to sprinkle him with dust.
"At this rate… time to use a real card," Feiyu muttered.
He slipped past another golden sphere, eyes narrowing. Lightning suddenly burst across his body, his chakra flaring into a sheath of crackling light.
In the next instant, he launched forward again—like a streak of aurora, cutting straight for Pakura.
Pakura once again used the same trick—her orbs rotated, sliding ahead of her, trying to wall him off.
This time, Feiyu's short sword suddenly grew.
The blade shot forward in a blink, piercing straight through the massive fireball.
Shnk.
Steel kissed flesh.
A bloody line opened on Pakura's cheek, the strike shaving past by a hair's breadth. Her face, which had been tight with surprise, went paper-white in the span of a heartbeat.
Because in that moment—
She'd felt it.
If not for her instincts screaming danger and her reflexive jerk to the side, that thrust would have gone straight through her skull.
"Ch… tch. Didn't finish it."
Feiyu clicked his tongue.
"Then again, it'd be weird if it worked first try. Top-tier shinobi can still sense danger even with their sight blocked. If they were that easy to deal with, my stealth-plus-speed style would be completely broken."
Maybe only something like Limbo: Border Jail could truly be untouchable—no interaction with the physical world, no killing intent for danger sense to latch onto.
No matter how well he masked his presence, Feiyu was still a living body cutting through air. There was no such thing as perfect stealth.
That was precisely why he hadn't used Camouflage Concealment against Pakura.
He'd dumped everything into speed.
"How underhanded…" Pakura hissed, touching her cheek. "The successor of Konoha's White Fang, using tricks like that?"
"What kind of impression do you people have of White Fang?" Feiyu shot back. "He's a shinobi, not a samurai. Using any method to kill the enemy is normal."
Pakura faltered for a moment.
Sakumo's past conduct did have a certain samurai-chivalry feel to it—so much so that he'd committed suicide when his reputation collapsed.
But facts were facts.
He'd been a ninja, not a swordsman of honor.
"And you think the Grass Cutter Sword is my ultimate trump card?" Feiyu said, eyes gleaming. "Let me show you the newest version of White Fang Kenjutsu."
Before Pakura could process that, his figure flickered—
And vanished into her blind spot.
The Grass Cutter shrank back to the length of a normal longsword as he reappeared, point lancing directly for her eyes.
Pakura barely twisted away in time.
Before she could counter—
The sharp, clean sword line suddenly twisted.
One blade-line split into two, like twin vipers snapping from impossible angles, one stabbing toward her throat.
Blood sprayed from her shoulder instead.
Pakura barely avoided a one-strike kill by dropping into a shameless, full-body roll, but the sword still carved a deep gash down to bone across her shoulder.
And she had no time to worry about it.
The new White Fang Kenjutsu, now fused with the Bixie forms, was merciless—not just in intent, but in structure.
The Grass Cutter whirled in Feiyu's hands like a living thing, a bizarre nine-headed serpent striking at every vital point it could reach—eyes, throat, heart, groin—anywhere that would end her.
For the first time in this world, someone was unleashing a full form-based sword style on a battlefield.
Pakura, used to facing straightforward charge-and-strike fighters, was completely out of rhythm.
Her vaunted Scorch Release barely had room to activate.
Her entire focus had to go into dodging: Shunshin, body turns, desperate retreats.
Just surviving.
After only ten-odd exchanges, the Scorch Release hero was soaked in blood. Though none of the wounds hit a direct vital point, her body was covered in cuts and punctures.
One more clean opening—
And she'd be dead.
At that moment, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air by Feiyu's ear.
He frowned.
The Grass Cutter snapped out in a circular sweep; the ring of steel echoed as he knocked aside more than a dozen incoming poisoned needles.
"Old hag Chiyo… already trying to make this a two-on-one?" he muttered. "Where the hell are our Konoha elites?"
He glanced up and saw her:
Chiyo, charging forward with ten puppets in tow, their joints clicking as they rushed across the battlefield.
The sight made Feiyu swear internally.
The battlefield was chaos; he couldn't see Akimichi Torifū anywhere.
Don't tell me Torifū got himself killed. If that's the case, I should just bail right now.
After fighting Pakura, Feiyu had gained a clearer sense of his own strength.
One-on-one against Pakura or Chiyo, he was confident he could win.
Two-on-one?
That was asking to die.
"The successor of White Fang, huh? No—your sword is already beyond that man's."
Chiyo's eyes narrowed as she finally got a closer look at him.
"So young, yet already this strong… Konoha really is a cradle of geniuses."
She raised a hand, her face hardening.
"Which is why—for the sake of Sunagakure—you'll die here today. Don't you dare run—"
Before she could finish her grand speech, Feiyu was already gone.
He turned around, bolted—
And his figure faded into thin air.
"That brat is really White Fang's successor? He's completely shameless!" Chiyo snapped.
Puppet masters had always struggled with mobility. Even a legendary Kage-tier puppeteer like Chiyo could only move around at roughly "strong jōnin" speed.
When Feiyu actually committed to running away, there wasn't much she could do.
As for Pakura, who was barely catching her breath—
Forget her already weaker speed. With those injuries weighing her down, chasing alone would be suicide.
If she charged, Feiyu wouldn't mind turning around and finishing what he started.
"Chiyo-senpai… that ghost can run," Pakura said hoarsely, blood soaking her clothes. "But the rest of Konoha can't."
"Don't forget—we're here to win this war."
Chiyo blinked.
Then her expression cooled, the battle-fire in her eyes turning sharp.
"Right."
"Konoha loves preaching their 'Will of Fire', don't they?"
Her lips twisted into a cold smile.
"Let's see how long that little ghost can endure watching his 'comrades' die in front of him… and still do nothing."
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