Chapter 301 – Confronting the Mist (Part II)
Ao led his unit—the elite of the Genji faction—deep into the Kaguya compound.
The situation was chaos. Smoke and chakra still hung thick in the air.
Orochimaru's sudden appearance had shaken him badly,
but abandoning their mission was not an option.
They were shinobi of the Hidden Mist.
And now their village was burning from the inside out.
As he sprinted across the blood-soaked courtyard, his Byakugan active,
and took the right flank toward the deeper interior of the Kaguya grounds.
Those masked intruders were strong—terrifying, even.
And one of them moved with unmistakable precision and grace—
a Uchiha, he was almost certain.
But even so, compared to Orochimaru,
this mysterious man was still a child playing with shadows.
Against that demon of Konoha, no one could compare.
Which was why Ao's first priority was to regroup with Kaguya Shigemitsu, the clan head.
He couldn't help but wonder—
what exactly had this arrogant clan done to deserve being targeted
by two different forces at the same time?
Orochimaru's betrayal of Konoha was no secret.
His infamy spread like poison through every hidden village.
Many nations had even issued standing orders:
"If you encounter Orochimaru, you are authorized to abandon the mission immediately."
Even the Mist, proud and ruthless as they were, had adopted that rule.
Because facing Orochimaru alone… was suicide.
"Lord Shigemitsu," Ao called out as he and his unit arrived at the clan leader's hall.
"What happened here? Are you all right? I just saw Orochimaru within your compound!"
Kaguya Shigemitsu's face was twisted with rage.
"Do we look all right to you?" he spat.
"That snake threatened me! He forced me to hand over our children—our own kin!"
His words were laced with venom,
but beneath them, Ao could hear something else—humiliation.
"And those masked intruders," Shigemitsu continued bitterly,
"they had the same intent!
Tell me, Ao—is this what passes for the Mist's 'security'?"
The truth was simple:
Shigemitsu had been played—
by both Uchiha Kei and Orochimaru.
He had no proof, of course, but the pattern was obvious.
Both men had toyed with him, used him, and walked away with what they wanted.
Orochimaru had even extorted him,
forcing him to hand over several Kaguya children—
conveniently, the children of those who had once opposed him.
He'd told himself it didn't matter.
They were liabilities anyway.
But being manipulated by Orochimaru?
That was something even his pride couldn't swallow.
"Stealing Kaguya bloodlines?" Ao frowned. "That's what they were after?"
It didn't make sense.
Yes, the Kaguya's Kekkei Genkai—Shikotsumyaku, the Dead Bone Pulse—was powerful.
But as far as he remembered,
no one in the clan had awakened it for over a decade.
The last generation of bloodline bearers had died in the Second Great War.
Since then, the clan had languished, proud but stagnant—
a tribe of muscle and arrogance with no future.
So why would two separate enemies risk everything just to come here?
Ao exhaled, dismissing the thought.
The reason didn't matter.
What mattered was capturing the masked man.
They'd pry open his secrets by force if they had to.
Without Orochimaru in the equation,
Ao felt confident they could take the intruder down.
Still, a flicker of unease lingered.
"Forgive me," Ao said curtly, activating his Byakugan again.
"The village is in chaos. If you want answers, ask the Fourth Mizukage—or Genji himself.
For now, if you want vengeance, fight alongside us."
He swept his vision across the battlefield—then froze.
The masked man hadn't fled.
He was waiting, standing calmly in the open courtyard.
The other two—the woman and the sensor—had already moved to the side flanks.
It was a classic cover maneuver.
One stays behind to hold the enemy's attention,
buying time for the others to retreat.
Which meant…
This one was the strongest.
Ao's expression darkened.
One man, standing alone against all of us?
Did he really think he could stop an entire division of Mist shinobi?
Or was he simply buying time… for something worse?
Either way, letting him live was out of the question.
"Form up!" Ao ordered coldly. "We're taking that arrogant bastard down!"
Across the field, Kei tilted his head slightly beneath his spiral-patterned mask.
"So they've come."
He stood, gripping the hilt of his blade.
His chakra pulsed through the earth like a living flame.
He could feel their approach—
dozens, maybe hundreds—surging through the fog.
He'd waited long enough.
And now, the prey had arrived.
The Mist shinobi advanced slowly, wary but confident.
Kei's chakra flared brighter,
a predator's hum building beneath his skin.
He could sense the command unit leading them.
Ao.
Kei's lips curved slightly.
An old acquaintance.
The same man who once captured Ayaka to bargain for Mei Terumī's release—
and nearly ruined his entire operation.
Last time, Kei had let him escape.
This time, there would be no escape.
Ao saw the masked man start to move toward them.
And though his Byakugan couldn't see the man's face,
he could see his chakra—
and what he saw made his stomach twist.
The energy inside him wasn't vast…
but it was cold, heavy, and disturbingly still.
Like staring into the heart of a storm before it breaks.
Kei took one step forward.
Then another.
His breathing slowed, rhythm sharpening.
The mist clung to him like a living veil.
Then, suddenly, his pace quickened.
From a walk—
to a sprint.
The air rippled.
And every Mist shinobi present felt it—
a wave of killing intent, sharp enough to pierce the lungs.
Their hands tightened on their kunai.
A few began to sweat.
There was only one man.
One single opponent.
But it felt like standing before an army of ghosts.
Kei's crimson eyes gleamed behind the mask.
He didn't give them time to think.
When he struck, he moved like lightning—
his blade flashing in a blur of azure chakra.
In the blink of an eye, the first three Mist shinobi were dead.
Then four.
Then seven.
He danced among them like a crimson phantom—
swift, precise, merciless.
His every motion was effortless and fluid,
each swing carving through air and bone alike.
To the Mist shinobi, it looked less like a fight
and more like a massacre disguised as art.
A kunai grazed his shoulder.
He turned, blade flashing, and split his attacker's throat in a single motion.
He pivoted backward, dodging a second strike,
then drove his blade upward through another's jaw.
A sign, a flicker of chakra—
and a clone exploded into mist.
The shinobi who'd stabbed it looked up just in time to see Kei's eyes—
those spinning, blood-red tomoe—
before a kunai drove through his neck.
Ao's heart pounded.
This wasn't normal.
It was as if the man's movements were… inevitable.
Every strike landed where it had to.
Every motion flowed into the next.
He wasn't reacting—he was anticipating.
Kei's Sharingan burned through the fog,
capturing every heartbeat, every twitch of muscle,
every intention before it could become action.
He saw everything.
And for the first time,
Ao truly understood why the Uchiha were feared as gods of battle.
Kei moved through the chaos like a dancer in flame.
Not a drop of blood stained his cloak.
Every kill was clean, deliberate—beautiful.
Minutes passed,
and dozens of Mist shinobi fell.
Not even ninjutsu could pin him down;
he was too close, too fast, too precise.
Then he drew a slip of paper from his pouch—an explosive tag.
The Mist were too disciplined to use such things among their own ranks.
Kei, however, had no such concern.
A faint smile touched his lips as he infused it with chakra,
then slipped behind one of the enemy soldiers.
A strike, a kick—
And the poor man was sent flying back into his comrades.
The tag gleamed on his chest.
"Wait—!"
The explosion tore through the ranks.
Fire, smoke, and screams filled the mist.
"Perfect," Kei murmured.
"Now we're ready."
He lifted his head, feeling the ache of power thrumming through his veins.
His body was moving perfectly in sync—
the balance between his Uchiha blood and the White Zetsu cells inside him
had reached nearly fifty percent fusion.
He hadn't realized until now just how powerful he'd become.
No, he wasn't Madara Uchiha—
not yet.
But he was no longer far beneath him, either.
Kei's hands formed a seal.
Flames surged from his lungs, consuming the mist in a flood of light.
"Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame!"
A roaring sea of fire swept across the battlefield,
illuminating the night sky and setting the air ablaze.
Ao's Byakugan dimmed under the heat.
He could only stare, speechless.
From a distant ridge, two silhouettes watched the inferno unfold—
Obito Uchiha and Black Zetsu.
"…He's gotten stronger," Obito muttered.
Black Zetsu said nothing for a moment, his face unreadable.
Then his voice turned sharp and low.
"Too strong.
That damned boy… why is he this powerful already?"
The flames reflected in Obito's single red eye.
"Let him be," he said quietly. "The stronger he gets…
the more useful he'll be before he dies."
Just a year ago, that boy's performance had been—mediocre at best.
And yet now, barely twelve months later, his battle instincts, fighting technique, chakra control, and mastery of the Sharingan had all evolved beyond reason—beyond anything Black Zetsu had imagined possible.
His growth was unnatural, terrifying—almost inhuman.
Even Black Zetsu, who had seen centuries of war and monsters, couldn't help but wonder:
Had this brat somehow fused Senju Hashirama's cells into his body?
Because otherwise, there was no explanation.
No one, not even among the Uchiha, could progress like this.
If Madara hadn't died just a year ago—
if Indra's chakra hadn't been delayed in finding a new vessel—
Black Zetsu might have sworn this boy was Indra's reincarnation himself.
He shook his head, dark thoughts coiling in his mind.
No. This one was too dangerous.
If he didn't die here and now, there was no telling what the future might become.
"Prepare yourself," he muttered coldly, turning to Obito.
"It's time. Let's send in the Fourth Mizukage."
Obito blinked. "You want me to deploy the Fourth?"
He hid his suspicion behind a calm expression,
but inside he was wondering—
What game are you playing, Zetsu? Are you a spy within my own ranks too?
"Yes," Black Zetsu replied, his voice low and deliberate.
"It's risky, but under your control—with the Three-Tails' power—he won't fall easily.
And against Uchiha Kei, that combination will be… troublesome."
Obito nodded slowly. "I understand."
His tone was steady.
But his mind was racing.
Use the Fourth Mizukage and a Tailed Beast to kill Kei?
What a joke.
Still…
if Black Zetsu was the one suggesting it,
then everything was going exactly as Obito hoped.
After all, he'd been wondering how to stage the Mizukage's appearance without openly defying Kei's orders.
Now the opportunity had fallen into his lap.
Back on the battlefield, Ao and his men could only watch in disbelief.
They'd seen countless battles—bloody, brutal, hopeless ones.
But never anything like this.
The masked man moved like an artist painting with death.
Against a hundred shinobi, he wasn't struggling—
he was dancing.
Each motion was clean, elegant, lethal.
Not a scratch on him, not a mark of blood—
even the hem of his cloak remained untouched.
Ao's throat was dry.
He'd seen prodigies before, but this…
This was something else.
No… this was something impossible.
Even a Kage would hesitate before such a presence.
He wasn't fighting like a man.
He was fighting like a force of nature.
Who is he?
Ao's mind raced, trying to match the impossible figure before him with anyone he knew.
Could any Uchiha still alive possess such overwhelming strength?
No.
Not even close.
There was no one like this—not in Konoha, not anywhere in the Five Nations.
"Water Style: Water Formation Wall!" Ao shouted at last, forcing his fear aside.
Charging to the front, his hands blurred through seals.
A massive wall of churning water erupted between the Mist forces and the burning sea of Kei's Fire Release: Great Fire Annihilation.
The other Mist shinobi snapped out of their shock, following his lead.
Dozens of water walls rose in unison, crashing forward in waves of blue.
Here in the Land of Water, chakra flowed easily through the ever-present humidity.
But the clash of fire and water created a dense, suffocating fog—
steam and mist mingling until visibility dropped to nothing.
Ao's stomach turned.
He realized too late what was happening.
That blazing inferno—
that overwhelming display of destruction—
wasn't meant to annihilate them.
It was a smokescreen.
The masked Uchiha's real goal wasn't slaughter; it was cover.
He was creating chaos to ensure his allies could escape unnoticed.
And now, the battlefield had become the perfect trap:
a maze of fog, fire, and death.
"Damn it!" Ao growled, activating his Byakugan once more.
If the enemy was still here, he'd find him.
He had to.
Part of him prayed the man was already gone—
because deep down, he knew the truth:
If he faced that monster again,
his chances of surviving were slim to none.
Through the thick mist, faint chakra signatures flickered—
then one, far stronger than the rest, locked into his sight.
Ao's heart froze.
"No…"
He saw it.
That same overwhelming, suffocating presence—
the crimson glow of those cursed eyes,
cutting through the fog like twin lanterns of death.
He felt his blood run cold.
"Damn it!" he roared, voice cracking.
"Everyone scatter! Scatter, now!"
"He's—he's coming!"
In the command tent far away, Black Zetsu's lips twisted into a cold smile.
"It begins," he whispered.
And from deep beneath the mist-covered waters,
something vast began to stir—
the chakra of Isobu, the Three-Tails,
awakening under Obito's command.