"Summoning the Flame Dragon Armor isn't difficult," Seiran said flatly, his voice filtering through the armor's mask.
Han's eyes narrowed inside his blood-red plating.
"In theory, you're also descended from Iwagakure. You should barely be capable of summoning the Earth Tiger Armor—something far more advanced than you. An armor made of materials you couldn't even identify."
Han froze.
"What the hell is an Earth Tiger Armor?"
"Forget it. I don't care to discuss boring things with you." Seiran tilted his head slightly. "Can an armor withstand the power of a tailed beast?"
Massive jets of steam erupted from Han's back. His entire body launched forward like a living cannonball, the air itself screaming under the velocity.
Seiran's figure flickered. He sidestepped with ease.
Han barely managed to control his momentum, shock flickering across his face. "How are you so fast?"
Before, Seiran had been quick enough to dodge—but not like this. Not when Han was moving with his full strength, completely serious, completely committed. Yet Seiran hadn't even touched his fingertips to Han's sleeve.
"You're not slow," Seiran said, his tone carrying the weight of casual superiority. "I'm just faster."
Han charged again, steam venting in thick plumes. Each collision of their blows sent shockwaves rippling across the battlefield. Nearby shinobi had to brace themselves against the wind pressure.
The difference was stark. Han's steam propulsion—devastating for any ordinary ninja—meant nothing here. Seiran's magnetic armor, constructed from fluid metal and woven through with electromagnetic currents, responded to his will without hesitation. Every deflection, every dodge, every counterattack flowed with inhuman precision.
Steam versus electromagnetism. Industrial revolution versus science fiction made manifest. The technology gap was absolute.
Han's desperation mounted. He pushed harder, faster, hotter. But it changed nothing. Seiran remained untouchable, toying with him.
Finally, Han's patience shattered.
"Enough!" he roared.
Seiran's armor flickered with warning. Han's chakra—that terrible dark red chakra—began to pour from his body like spilled blood. The outline of something massive, something wrong, took shape around him. Not a full transformation. Not yet. But close.
The Five-Tails. Half-awakened, straining against its seal.
Seiran became utterly still. This was the heart of the battlefield—chaos and carnage in all directions. If Han pushed that transformation further, if that thing fully manifested... collateral damage would be catastrophic. Friend and foe alike would burn.
"No need for full release," Han said through gritted teeth, his voice warped by the chakra flooding through him. "This will suffice."
The dark red aura burned brighter. Steam rose from his body in thick, suffocating waves, far more powerful than before. The ground beneath his feet began to crack and melt.
Seiran smiled coldly.
Let's see who's harder, then.
The armor's electrical charge intensified. Blue arcs became sheets of lightning. Without hesitation, Seiran transformed into pure electromagnetic force and launched himself forward.
The collision was apocalyptic.
The shockwave flattened grass for fifty meters in every direction. Seiran and Han became twin blurs—one wrapped in crimson steam, one crackling with electric fury. They moved faster than the eye could follow, leaving afterimages as they clashed again and again, the ground beneath them scorched and melted into slag.
Across the battlefield, shinobi stopped fighting to stare.
Jiraiya let out a low whistle. "Is that Magnet Release?"
Minato's eyes tracked the blur of their movements, his expression unreadable. "It appears so. Though I must confess—I didn't expect Seiran to hold his own against Han like this."
"Hold his own?" Jiraiya grinned. "That kid's dominating him."
On the battlefield, Han was beginning to realize the terrible truth. The more chakra he poured into his transformation, the more of an anchor Seiran had to latch onto with his electromagnetic field. Speed that should have been untouchable became predictable. Strength that should have been overwhelming became... manageable.
Seiran landed on solid ground, breathing controlled. His armor glowed with that steady, ominous blue light. "You've been charging at me for how long now? I think it's my turn."
Han barely had time to react before Seiran was there. The punch came like a thunderbolt—precise, devastating. It caught Han square in the sternum.
The air exploded from his lungs. Han's body folded like paper, the red armor cracking under the impact. Spider-web fractures spread across his chest plate.
Seiran spun. His leg came up in a vicious arc.
Han flew backward, crashing hard into the earth. The landing left a crater. Dust and steam rose in a choking cloud.
"Tch," Seiran said, brushing himself off. "Over already?"
But Han wasn't done. The dark red chakra flared even brighter. He pushed himself up, blood dripping from his lips, and stared at Seiran with something approaching respect.
"I underestimated you," Han said quietly. "Ōnoki's intelligence was... incomplete."
He took a breath—a deep, almost ceremonial breath.
"Very well. Time to stop holding back."
The chakra exploded outward. The silhouette of Kokuo, the Five-Tails, materialized fully around him. Not a physical transformation—not yet—but the raw presence of the beast manifested with crushing force. The steam around him became so dense it was nearly liquid, burning at temperatures that melted rock.
Han launched forward, moving faster than even the enhanced state allowed.
Seiran didn't dodge this time. Instead, he raised his hands.
Every metal object within a hundred meters answered his call.
Scattered kunai, lost shuriken, iron filings in the soil itself—all of it began to vibrate, to rise. Han's armor—made of metal, reinforced with metal plating—strained against the magnetic pull.
"What are you—" Han snarled.
"Tyrant Mode: Electromagnetic Sovereign," Seiran said, his voice ice.
The armor's glow shifted from blue to an ominous black-purple. The magnetic field expanded like a hurricane, and for a brief, terrible moment, Han found himself locked in place, his armor screaming against the invisible chains holding him.
A single fragment of metal—torn from Seiran's own plating—detached itself.
It accelerated.
The sound barrier shattered. The fragment became nothing but a streak of black light, crossing distance in less than a heartbeat, moving faster than sound itself could travel.
Han twisted desperately. The fragment grazed his shoulder, tearing through armor and flesh like paper. Blood sprayed across the scorched earth.
Han staggered back, one hand pressed to the wound. His eyes were wide with something that looked almost like fear.
Around them, the battlefield had gone quiet. Every eye was on Seiran—this young ninja radiating power that defied conventional understanding.
Seiran raised both hands. The metal around them began to coalesce, spinning faster and faster until dozens of blades hung in the air, each one glinting with lethal precision.
"This is Magnet Release," Seiran said coldly. "Not just controlling metal. Commanding it. Every scrap of iron, every grain of steel—all of it belongs to me."
Han stared at the floating blades. For a long moment, he simply stood there, blood running down his armor.
Then he lowered his head.
"I surrender," he said quietly.
Seiran deactivated Tyrant Mode. The electromagnetic field collapsed. Metal fell harmlessly to the ground. He looked at the fallen ninja—bloody, broken, utterly defeated—and nodded once.
"Take him into custody," Seiran called to nearby Konoha shinobi. "He's valuable."
As they moved to secure Han, Minato appeared at Seiran's side, Jiraiya right behind him. Both wore expressions of genuine respect.
"That was remarkable," Minato said. "You've progressed beyond what I expected."
Jiraiya clapped him on the back. "And with style. 'Electromagnetic Sovereign'—I like it. When did you develop that?"
"Recently," Seiran replied. "Still experimental."
Minato's eyes glinted with something unreadable. "Your power is advancing rapidly. Be careful. Attention like this can be dangerous."
"I know," Seiran said. "But we need every advantage right now."
He turned back toward the broader battlefield. Konoha's forces were pushing harder now, emboldened by his victory. But the war remained far from over.
There would be more battles. More challenges. More names to add to the list of those who'd underestimated him.
For now, though, he'd won. And that was enough.
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