The hills near the Land of Rain were deceptively gentle, the air thick with humidity, elevation shifting barely a hundred meters across the terrain. From the high ground, the battlefield unfolded like a canvas of chaos.
Two torrents of color surged toward each other. One side wore the standard green Konoha flak jackets, red spirals emblazoned on their backs like a promise of defiance. The other, wrapped in white turbans and tawny uniforms, carried the unmistakable signature of Sunagakure. At their head, a shinobi wielding a massive fan looked ready to split the earth itself.
High atop a ridge, Orochimaru watched it all unfold, his gaze sweeping methodically over the forming lines.
"Lord Orochimaru," a sensor ninja reported, eyes closed in concentration. "The opposition is led by the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa. Elder Chiyo is with him. We're estimating over three thousand shinobi."
Orochimaru's eyes flashed. The Fourth Kazekage himself. And Chiyo. The Sand Village was throwing nearly their entire elite force into this frontal assault, leaving only their Jinchuriki uncommitted. They were clearly desperate to counter the threat of Seiran's railgun.
So much for delaying tactics, Orochimaru mused, a slight smile touching his lips. With a force this large, stealth was impossible anyway.
He drew a deep breath, his voice raspy but cutting through the humid air like a blade. "Charge!"
The command rippled across the Konoha lines. A hoarse, unified roar erupted from thousands of throats—a beastly echo that shook the hills themselves. On the opposing ridge, Rasa saw the surge and gritted his teeth. He couldn't afford to lose momentum now.
"Charge!" he bellowed.
The Sand forces screamed in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins.
The two waves of humanity crashed together.
"Fire Style: Dragon Fire Technique!" shouted the Konoha front line, hands flashing through seals. Fire chakra surged, and from their mouths spewed countless red serpents that coalesced into a massive wall of flame, rushing toward the Sand shinobi.
The Sand forces were ready.
The shinobi with the giant fan swung his weapon with brutal force. "Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
Razor-sharp blades of wind erupted from the fan, converging into a massive vortex that met the wall of fire head-on.
Boom!
The collision of wind and fire ended in a violent stalemate. The wall of flame and the wind vortex tore each other apart, scattering embers and scorching gusts across the entire battlefield.
Rasa breathed a slight sigh of relief. Fire naturally overpowered wind, meaning he had to commit more manpower just to counter a single volley. But he'd prepared for this. By staging the battle near the Land of Rain, the high humidity dampened the intensity of the fire jutsu, neutralizing Konoha's elemental advantage.
Now, the real slaughter began.
The two forces slammed into each other with the force of colliding freight trains. A Konoha shinobi locked kunai with a Sand ninja; the screech of metal on metal rang out, sending sparks flying. He kicked his opponent back, pivoted, and hurled another kunai directly into the throat of a second attacker.
But before he could savor the victory, his body went rigid. A puppet's blade had pierced through his chest from behind, the tip dripping crimson.
Through the heart of this maelstrom, Seiran moved like a phantom. He walked through the chaos as if it were a quiet garden, untouchable and immaculate. Kunai and shuriken meant for him simply veered away at impossible angles, often burying themselves in the nearest Sand shinobi instead.
In war, it was usually soldier against soldier, general against general, king against king. But Seiran played by different rules. He ignored the hierarchy entirely, slaughtering the foot soldiers while the enemy's elite were tied down elsewhere. It was ruthlessly efficient. Utterly terrifying.
Seiran clicked his tongue in annoyance. The Sand's heavy hitters—Rasa and Chiyo—were currently occupied. That left him free to thin the herd. The more shinobi he eliminated, the better Konoha's odds. Still, he cast a glance toward where Rin was fighting. He'd told her to avoid the front line, but she'd brushed him off, eager for action.
He couldn't stray too far. The battlefield was chaos, and a stray kunai or rogue jutsu could easily catch her off guard.
"Sorry, big brothers," Seiran muttered under his breath as he sidestepped a lunging Sand ninja. "You'll have to serve as shields."
A Sand shinobi named Arita spotted Seiran and his eyes narrowed. While Sunagakure had Magnet Release users, they specialized in manipulating sand and gold dust. They couldn't make kunai dance like this. This had to be some kind of secret technique.
Hesitating only a second, Arita decided against throwing his weapon. Instead, he quietly circled behind Seiran, closing the distance for a silent kill. Ten meters away… five… three…
Just as he raised his hand to strike, the kunai clenched in Seiran's grip vanished.
Arita froze. The kunai reappeared a moment later, buried deep in his own throat.
"Gurgle…"
Blood foamed at his lips. His eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. He tried to gasp out a warning, to tell the others what he'd realized. Magnetism…
The kunai twisted inside the wound. Arita's body twitched once, then fell backward, dead.
"Trying to sneak up on me?" Seiran scoffed, not even turning to look.
His Byakugan was already active. He could see every nerve, every muscle fiber, every shift in the air around him. If he wanted to, he could spawn dozens of flying swords and play the part of a wandering swordsman. But that would attract the attention of the Kage-level fighters in the Sand camp. For now, it was better to use kunai and shuriken as low-profile projectiles. Less flashy. Just as deadly.
The Konoha shinobi around him were beginning to notice the pattern. One second, a Sand ninja was locked in combat with them. The next, the enemy was on the ground, a cluster of kunai and shuriken sticking out of their back like morbid quills.
The Konoha shinobi shuddered. Terrifying.
Unlike the confused Sand shinobi, they knew about Seiran's dual kekkei genkai. They knew his Magnet Release could control metal. But knowing it and seeing it were two completely different things.
Weapons of war, they thought grimly.
In the distance, Rin glanced toward Seiran, who seemed to be wandering through the fray without a care in the world. She shook her head with a hint of helplessness. The Sand shinobi rushing her weren't particularly strong—just enough to warm up. Anything stronger that got close dropped to the ground with a kunai embedded in the back of their skull before they could even close the distance.
"Annoying," she huffed, turning her attention back to her own fight.