The battlefield had turned into a scene from a nightmare.
What was once a vibrant forest of strategic chokepoints and cover was now a hollowed-out graveyard—flattened, stripped bare by an unseen force.
Trees? Vaporized. Earth? Torn up and scattered like dust in a typhoon.
Corpses? Gone—no remains, no evidence they ever stood there. Just the wind, heavy with death, and the oppressive pressure that still hung in the air.
Only three figures remained: the towering Radahn, his crimson cloak fluttering against the lifeless sky; Onoki, floating mid-air, face pale as ash; and the Two-Tails in her full beast form, panting heavily, her eyes wide with primal fear.
Moments ago, four hundred trained shinobi had stood proud, determined to avenge the fallen Raikage.
Now they were gone.
Cries of agony had filled the air—shinobi caught in the pull of the black-purple orbs, screaming as they were stretched and torn apart like paper, their bones cracking in chorus with flesh being peeled away, the sound sickening and final. Some tried everything—Water Style walls, Earth barriers, Wind vacuums, even Lightning cloaks—but all efforts were meaningless. The orbs devoured it all. Ninjutsu, metal, bodies—everything crumbled into nothing.
A Jonin from Kirigakure tried to escape by leaping between summoned clones, only to find all versions of himself pulled into a vortex, one by one, until the final one screamed,
"NOT LIKE THIS—" and was silenced mid-air.
A Kumogakure sword-user plunged her blade into the ground, trying to anchor herself, her fingers bleeding as she clung to the hilt—but the pull lifted her by her limbs, bones snapping audibly as her body was drawn apart like a shredded rag.
Matatabi—the Two-Tails—had bolted in full form, chakra surging through her sinews, claws gouging the terrain. But the orb's pursuit was relentless. Her azure flames flickered erratically as panic overtook instinct. She snarled, grabbing a cluster of shinobi who had been running nearby and hurled them backward toward the chasing sphere.
"Forgive me!" her jinchūriki cried internally, tears streaking down her cheeks inside the chakra cloak. The thrown shinobi screamed as the orb swallowed them mid-air, their last moments etched into the minds of the last survivors.
Far above, Onoki flew desperately, flitting like a dying bird, eyes darting as he watched comrades—men and women he'd led for decades—vanish one by one. His heart pounded as even corpses were pulled off the ground and sucked into oblivion, the world below becoming a cratered abyss.
The battlefield was unrecognizable. The forest was no more. The terrain had been scoured by celestial wrath, flattened under invisible pressure, and shaped into a new, barren wasteland. Only three remained.
At the center, stood Radahn—his crimson cloak draped like royalty, Greatswords in hand, and behind him floated the remnants of his attack: dying stars, silent but still devouring.
The winds howled across the hollowed battlefield, carrying with them the scent of scorched earth and the echoing silence of death. Craters scarred the land like burn marks, and the air shimmered from the residual energy left behind by the black-purple orbs that had carved through hundreds of shinobi like a god's judgment.
Onoki was flying with all the speed his old body could muster, veins bulging from his temples, his breath ragged as fear gnawed at his thoughts. Behind him, the earth cracked and crumbled as a floating orb hissed forward—relentless and silent in its pursuit.
Then, he saw it.
A towering wall of flame and fur—Matatabi, the Two-Tails, in full monstrous form. She was panting, her tails lashing behind her like frenzied whips, her azure chakra barely holding its shape. Her blue eyes locked with Onoki's as he descended in a sudden burst of panic.
They were cornered.
Behind them, the last two orbs began to pulse—dark, spherical gravity wells spinning ominously, like eyes of ancient titans staring at prey. The space around them distorted. Chunks of terrain, shattered weapons, even the blood in the air was pulled toward them.
Onoki landed in front of the beast, floating slightly above the earth, his limbs trembling.
"We're trapped-" he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Tch… this can't be how it ends."
Matatabi's jinchūriki gritted her teeth as the beast hissed aloud in terror.
"No more… I won't be devoured like this!" she roared. Her flames surged in every direction, desperate, wild—trying to push back the inevitable.
They both turned.
The orbs were closing in.
And then—
VMMMMM—!!
The orbs suddenly pulsed with a strange vibration—like a massive gong echoing in reverse.
The world paused.
A sharp tremor rolled through the air. The energy in the atmosphere seemed to waver, like light through water. The orbs shimmered erratically—then began to shrink. Their surface folded in upon itself like collapsing stars, edges distorting and compressing.
SHUUNK—!!
One by one, they imploded silently.
No explosion. No fanfare.
Just silence.
The gravitational pull vanished in an instant. The earth below stopped cracking. The pressure in the air lifted like a weight removed from their chests.
Matatabi blinked.
Onoki's eyes widened.
"W-What just happened…?"
The silence rang louder than any scream.
Even the beast was speechless. The immense chakra signatures that threatened to erase them were… gone.
Matatabi's tails slowly lowered, her flames flickering uncertainly.
"He… he called them back?" Onoki whispered, his voice trembling.
"He could've killed us… he didn't?"
They turned to face Radahn again—still standing at the very center of the battlefield. Silent. Towering. Crimson cloak rippling in the wind.
His Greatswords now resting beside him once more.
He had ended it.
His gaze remained locked on the battlefield, unyielding and calm.
Without warning, he sidestepped ever so slightly—an imperceptible movement, yet enough to unsettle the encroaching darkness. His golden eyes burned like twin suns, cold and resolute.
The shadows around him seemed to pause.
Then—a sudden golden flash tore through the haze, brighter than the midday sun.
And from the shimmer of golden light—
Minato Namikaze reappeared.
-----[Minato's POV — A Few Moments Earlier]-----
He teleported all of them back to camp safely-
Behind him, dozens shinobi collapsed on the grassy fallback camp—bruised, battered, but alive.
Cries of joy mixed with sobs as med-nin rushed forward to tend wounds.
Minato's heart pounded. He scanned the camp—every face a testament to survival against impossible odds.
The air was thick with exhaustion and relief as he appeared in the safe fallback camp.
Med-nin rushed through the crowd, tending to wounds with practiced urgency. The scent of healing herbs mixed with the metallic tang of blood still fresh on the wind.
Minato's chest rose and fell heavily with each breath. His eyes scanned the scene—faces etched with pain and disbelief, yet shining with the stubborn spark of survival. Each person was a testament to the unyielding spirit that had carried them through the chaos.
Despite the relief washing over him, a gnawing unease settled deep within Minato's heart. His gaze drifted beyond the campfire circles and makeshift tents, towards the battlefield they had just fled. The weight of what remained there pressed against his mind like an invisible chain.
Voices began to rise among the shinobi—a murmur that swelled quickly into a chorus of urgent questions.
"Where's Mr. Radahn?"
Rin's voice, trembling but firm, cut through the murmurs.
The voice cut through the restless crowd like a blade. Rin, standing at the edge of the gathering, stepped forward with a mixture of fear and determination. Her usually calm voice trembled, betraying her worry.
All eyes turned sharply toward Minato, their gazes filled with a mix of hope and dread. They looked to him for answers, the man who had led their escape.
He met their gazes steadily.
"He's still there-" Minato said simply.
A collective gasp rippled through the group, as if the very words sent a shockwave through the camp. Faces twisted in confusion, disbelief, and rising panic.
Rin's expression contorted, her voice breaking through the stunned silence.
"You left him there? Alone? Facing An army ,two Kages and a tailed beast?!"
Even Kakashi's usually unreadable mask faltered, his sharp eyes narrowing with concern and frustration.
"Sensei, that's reckless. We should have gone back together. We can't just abandon him!"
Minato shook his head slowly, his resolve unshaken despite their protests.
"He told me to."
The weight of those words hung heavily in the air, each syllable like a stone settling into the hearts of those gathered.
"You of all people should know what he is capable of-" Minato continued, his voice steady but heavy with meaning.
Rin's eyes welled with tears—torn between anger at the perceived abandonment and an instinctual trust in Minato's judgment.
Suddenly, a deep, rumbling presence resonated within her mind—soft yet powerful. The voice of the Three-Tails whispered to her, calm and reassuring.
"Heh… Don't worry about him, kid."
"I'd like to see the look on that cat's face when she fights him."
Rin blinked, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She lowered her gaze, her voice now softened by understanding and respect.
"O-okay… Sorry, Minato-sensei."
Minato gave a slight nod, appreciating her trust.
"Don't worry-" he said quietly.
"I just need a moment to replenish my chakra. Then I'll go back."
He glanced toward the distant horizon, jaw clenched in grim determination.
"Please be safe, Radahn."
The camp grew silent, the weight of unspoken prayers and hope hanging in the heavy air.
Minutes passed slowly, each second stretching as Minato drawn in the natural chakra- drawing in deep breaths to restore his chakra.
A radiant golden aura began to shimmer around him, pulsating steadily, a beacon of hope in the night.
Then, with the speed that had earned him his legendary title, a brilliant flash of golden light burst forth.
His eyes shot open and with a another flash-
Minato Namikaze was gone—returned once more to the battlefield he had just left behind, carrying with him the promise of reinforcements and renewed strength.
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