The sky trembled beneath him.
Seiran gasped, fighting down the bile rising in his throat as his mind reeled from the shock. Every nerve screamed under the weight of the power coursing through him—something far beyond anything the Eight Inner Gates had ever offered.
The Gates had never granted true flight. Even when the Gate of Death was opened, all they'd delivered was an inhuman burst of speed, a blur of movement that made traversal feel like teleportation. This was different. He was actually flying, and the explosive force radiating from his body was something else entirely.
The Gates granted ultimate speed and devastating strikes. This felt like divine tyranny—raw, overwhelming dominion, looking down on the world with the weight of absolute violence.
"Regardless, this won't last long. I need to test what I can do while I have it."
He took a measured breath and extended his right palm toward the thick metal floor beneath him. With a thought, the steel he'd constructed rose into the air like a yawning mouth, straining against invisible chains.
The heavy plates ground against each other with a screech that set his teeth on edge. His palm trembled as he clenched his mental grip—the twisted metal contracted violently, folding in on itself until it became a chaotic knot of compressed steel.
Awe flickered through his exhausted mind. This level of absolute control had been impossible before.
"Not purely physical enhancement... Could this be authority over electromagnetic force itself?"
The answer crystallized in his thoughts. His life magnetic field was blazing now, burning with the intensity of a raging sun.
Seiran steadied himself and slowly raised both hands into the air.
The earth convulsed. Dead leaves scattered across the ground in frantic patterns, branches vibrated against their trunks, and the distant cries of fleeing animals echoed through the forest as every creature sensed the disturbance.
Boom.
The ground exploded upward. Massive formations of metal erupted like fungal growths, twisting and tangling, piercing through ancient trees and sending clouds of dust spiraling into the sky. When the chaos finally settled, a grotesque metal jungle stretched before him—a monument to raw power.
Hovering above his creation, Seiran's breathing came heavy. Sweat traced lines down his forehead. A pale smile twisted his face.
"My control has increased this much."
To tear metal particles from nearly a kilometer underground, force them upward, and weave them into this twisted landscape—it was a feat beyond anything he'd accomplished before. The Third Kazekage had used Magnet Release to manipulate gold dust in similar ways, but this? This was something else entirely.
Seiran clenched his fist.
Lightning erupted around him as his body became a streak of white-blue energy, slamming into the forest floor with devastating force. Trees shattered on impact, wood chips scattering like confetti. The metal jungle around him crumbled under the shockwave.
His waist twisted—a roundhouse kick that caught a massive tree trunk, one thick enough for three people to embrace. The wood exploded into powder at the point of contact, the remaining length crashing through the forest with a sound like thunder.
Each movement was simple, yet devastating. Each strike contained immense power and a brutal elegance.
This was nothing like the Eight Gates. This was electromagnetic force itself blessing his body, turning him into something far more dangerous.
Every inch of his skin crackled with energy. Every cell thrummed with explosive potential. As he stepped forward, the remaining metal jungle seemed to come alive, parting to create a path for him to walk through.
"Now I understand how Magneto must have felt."
The satisfaction was intoxicating. That surge of electromagnetic dominion gave him a taste of what true power felt like.
He returned to the flattened metal floor and raised his palm. The twisted lump flattened further, settling back into place. The metal jungle behind him sank into the earth like it had never been, pulled downward by invisible hands, leaving only a devastated forest in its wake.
The lightning faded from his skin. His hair fell limp.
When it was done, Seiran's face had gone pale. His breath came in ragged gasps.
"They should be here soon."
He looked toward the village.
Ten seconds later, ANBU operatives in white masks materialized from the trees. Their eyes—visible through the holes in their masks—widened as they surveyed the destruction. Uprooted trees. Craters in the earth. A forest that looked like it had been through a war.
"What happened here? The damage is..." one of them trailed off.
"Enemy attack?" another suggested.
Seiran stepped forward, his face a mask of exhaustion and apology. "I'm sorry. I was practicing a jutsu. Lost control of the scale."
Recognition flickered among the ANBU. Several of them nodded. Seiran was a rising star in the village, close to Hiruzen Sarutobi himself. His instructor was Shibi Aburame, a former ANBU member. These operatives knew him well enough.
"A jutsu?" One of them sounded unconvinced. "This much damage from practice?"
Seiran forced a weak cough, slumping his shoulders as if barely holding himself up. He managed a tired smile. "I developed something powerful. Miscalculated the output. My bad."
The ANBU seemed satisfied. Seiran's appearance sold the story—his chakra was genuinely depleted, nothing remained in his reserves. No signs of other shinobi in the area. Just an accident.
"We won't disturb your training then," one of them said with a slight bow.
They vanished into the trees.
Once he was certain they were gone, Seiran released a long breath. His eyes gleamed with barely contained excitement.
He had lost control during training, yes. But not for the reason he'd told them.
The state he'd accessed had a name. He'd decided on it moments ago:
Tyrant Mode: Electromagnetic Sovereign.
"Opening the fourth gate of the Eight Inner Gates... it spiked my life magnetic field beyond anything I calculated. And that spike fed directly into my electromagnetic authority."
The shock was still settling in his chest like stones in still water. The power he'd wielded was at least Level 4 electromagnetic force. In that state, he could have matched shinobi like Shibi Aburame—fought them and possibly won.
Forcibly accessing electromagnetic abilities far beyond his normal capacity by crossing power levels through sheer force—that was Tyrant Mode. And the expanded reach was unexpected. Without even opening his Byakugan, he'd sensed the ANBU approaching from over a kilometer away.
It made sense, though. He'd discovered long ago that the vigor of his biomagnetic field directly enhanced his electromagnetic authority. Each time he opened a new gate, his field skyrocketed. The fourth gate was a threshold. The purple crystal in his mind had resonated with that surge perfectly.
"The power is immense. But the cost..." Seiran flexed his fingers experimentally, wincing at the sharp pain lancing through his muscles. "The cost is severe."
His chakra was completely empty. His muscles felt like they were being torn apart with every movement. He'd spent only a few minutes in that state, and it had drained him to dangerous levels.
"Worth it, though," he whispered. A smile touched his lips despite the pain. "Against enemies far stronger than me, I finally have a real chance."
His greatest trump card had been revealed—even if only to himself.