The screams hit Rasa first.
"Chiyo!"
"Chiyo, no!"
His pupils constricted as he stared down at the battlefield below, trembling. There—Elder Chiyo of Sunagakure, the greatest puppeteer the world had ever known, dancing.
Dancing like a marionette.
Her limbs jerked in grotesque, uncontrolled motions, her own puppets moving in perfect synchronization with her body. The pride of the Hidden Sand Village was being manipulated in front of thousands of eyes.
What had happened?
All of Rasa's desperate strategizing, his careful calculations—gone. Replaced by shock that froze his blood.
"Don't look... don't look..." Chiyo bit her lip, tears streaming down her weathered face. "This old body... has been..."
Rasa felt something crack inside his chest. His breathing hitched.
This was Elder Chiyo. The woman who had shaped the Sand Village's military might. Reduced to a puppet's dance.
His gaze swept across the battlefield, and his heart sank further.
The ground was a graveyard of Sand shinobi, their bodies packed densely across the scorched earth. But worse—far worse—was what he saw in the puppet division's formation. As far as his eyes could reach, there wasn't a single complete corpse among them. Limbs scattered. Torsos split. The resources spent cultivating elite puppeteers far exceeded those for ordinary soldiers, and they were gone.
The annihilation hit like a hammer blow.
Lost.
Completely lost.
Rasa knew with absolute certainty: the battle was over.
Not only had Sunagakure's combat forces been decimated, but their strongest weapon, Chiyo herself, had been turned into a spectacle before everyone's eyes. His prestige, his spirit—utterly crushed.
He raised his head and roared.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
Golden sand erupted beneath him, coalescing into a massive palm. It scooped up the dazed Chiyo and surged backward, away from the carnage.
"Retreat! Retreat!"
His command echoed across the battlefield. The Sand shinobi still engaged broke off instantly, abandoning their fights to flee.
Konoha's forces surged forward, kunai flashing—
"Don't pursue," Orochimaru's voice cut through the chaos, rough and commanding. "They still have numbers. We'll gain nothing. Secure the battlefield."
The chase stopped. Instead, shinobi continued cutting down the slower stragglers with cold efficiency.
Rasa stood rigid on his sand platform, eyes locked on a figure below. A shinobi with lavender eyes—a Hyuga. The two stared at each other across the distance, a silent exchange passing between them.
Who is that?
Why does he feel so familiar?
The thought gnawed at Rasa, but he didn't stop. He manipulated the sand, carrying himself and Chiyo away, until the Hyuga disappeared from view.
Only then did Rasa turn to the trembling woman beside him.
"Chiyo, what happened? Why would you suddenly—"
Her fingertips shook violently. She swallowed, as if fighting down something terrifying.
When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper.
"That Hyuga... it was him. That Hyuga shinobi."
Rasa's pupils narrowed to pinpoints.
The figure from moments ago flashed through his mind. Could it be...?
---
"We won!"
"Sunagakure retreated!"
"We actually won!"
The cheers erupted from Konoha's ranks like a wave. Konoha and Sunagakure were ancient enemies. Two Shinobi World Wars had soaked the earth in blood between them. And now—now they had crushed the Sand Village's invasion.
Orochimaru scanned the battlefield, inhaling sharply. Then he laughed, his gaze finding Seiran through the crowd.
"I knew you could do it, Seiran," he rasped. "Your Electromagnetic Manipulation will change warfare itself."
The white-haired shinobi moved closer, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "You defeated Chiyo, too, didn't you? The world's strongest puppeteer. I'm impressed. I'm not confident I could have suppressed her so completely."
"Puppets have metal," Seiran replied simply.
"Ah." Orochimaru nodded, something shifting in his expression. His estimation of Seiran rose visibly. The Third Kazekage had possessed Magnet Release too, but he'd never achieved anything close to this level of dominance.
A kekkei genkai variant? Orochimaru's mind churned with possibilities as he studied Seiran's face.
---
Seiran's thoughts ran in a different direction entirely.
Chiyo alive meant maximum psychological damage to the Sand Village. A living legend, publicly humiliated, reduced to dancing under puppet strings—that was worth far more than her corpse. Rasa would return to a camp fracturing under shame and despair. The puppeteers would struggle under the weight of what they'd witnessed.
The more casually Seiran behaved now, the higher Konoha's morale would climb. And the harder the Sand Village's fall would be.
---
After securing the battlefield, Konoha's army returned to camp. Taking the Sand's remaining positions in one assault was impossible—and too many Konoha shinobi needed medical attention.
Seiran returned to his tent as evening descended.
His reputation had skyrocketed. So had the mental image of Chiyo's grotesque, puppet-dance spreading through the ranks.
He was preparing for bed when voices erupted outside.
"Save him! Let him through!"
"He's just a child—"
Knock. Knock.
A shinobi pushed through the tent flap, bowing slightly.
"Seiran, there's a disturbance outside. You're needed."
Seiran rose without hesitation. "What is it?"
"A child from a nearby village. He's trying to break through to the battlefield. We're not sure what to do with him."
Seiran sighed and stepped outside.
A crowd had gathered around a boy—no more than ten, wearing a pair of goggles on his forehead. His voice was raw from screaming.
"Let me through! My mom's out there! She was gathering firewood!"
"The battlefield isn't safe," a Konoha shinobi said firmly, blocking his path.
"I don't care! My mom!"
Seiran crouched to eye level with the boy. "Listen to me. Your mother heard the battle. She hid. She's safe."
"How do you know?" the boy demanded, tears streaming down his face.
"Because if she wasn't, you'd already know it in your heart," Seiran said quietly. "Let these shinobi take you to the medical tent. We'll find her when it's safe. I promise."
The boy hesitated, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
Seiran stood. "Get him food and water. Someone find out where his mother was last seen."
"Yes, sir!" The shinobi led the boy away, glancing back at Seiran with wide, almost reverent eyes.
Seiran watched them go, then turned toward the forest where smoke still rose from the battlefield. Probably fine. Probably.
He returned to his tent and sat on his cot, closing his eyes.
The familiar display materialized in his mind:
[Electromagnetic Force: Level 3 - 3289/6000 EXP]
The battle had given him a solid boost. Not enough for Level 4, but progress nonetheless.
He opened his eyes and exhaled slowly.
The war wasn't over. Not nearly.
But for tonight, at least, they had won.
Seiran lay back on his cot, staring at the tent canvas above, listening to the sounds of Konoha's camp settling into an uneasy rest.