Chapter 306 – The Ashura's Battlefield (Part V)
"Damn it… what the hell is the Captain doing?"
On the western flank of the battlefield, Kenta Imai and Ayaka Hyūga were sprinting at full speed toward the main combat zone — where Uchiha Kei was still locked in a storm of chaos.
Even from a distance, the devastation he had unleashed was staggering.
The twenty-meter-tall Susanoo loomed like a wrathful god, its every swing tearing through earth and stone. The terrain itself had been reshaped — gouged craters, shattered cliffs, and rivers of steam and molten rock marked where it had passed.
It was hard not to feel fear just looking at it.
Every Mist shinobi unfortunate enough to be near Kei was either dead or dying.
Even Kenta and Ayaka, moving from the flanks, could feel the shockwaves of his chakra and the lingering heat of black fire burning in the distance.
Yet in this destruction, there was a kind of twisted advantage.
Because Kei had drawn all enemy attention to himself.
They encountered almost no resistance on their way forward —
save for the occasional blast of wind or blade of chakra that carved through the mist, remnants of Kei's rampage.
Every surviving Mist unit had converged toward him like moths drawn to a fire.
It was both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing — because it allowed them to advance safely.
A curse — because their captain was standing alone against the full fury of Kirigakure.
"This time… we've really gone too far," Ayaka murmured, her Byakugan activated, scanning through the smoke and mist ahead.
Her voice carried a hint of awe — and resignation.
"From what I can see, the captain's already killed over a hundred Mist shinobi. There are countless wounded… this grudge is beyond repair now."
Kenta grimaced. "And the Mist main force is still pushing toward him. The Fourth Mizukage himself is on the field."
He shook his head. "I just don't get it. What's his plan this time? That Susanoo technique — can he even keep it up any longer? Just maintaining that thing…"
He trailed off.
They both knew how terrifyingly demanding Susanoo was.
Even the Uchiha clan's records described it as a jutsu that devoured the user's life force and chakra.
Kei had admitted as much when he'd explained its mechanics — it wasn't meant for prolonged battle.
And yet…
He had already proved its devastating power beyond question.
Hundreds of Mist shinobi annihilated in mere minutes,
the land scarred beyond recognition,
and the survivors crippled — many screaming as they burned in black fire, cutting off limbs to stop the spread.
The battlefield was a nightmare born of a single man's will.
"If he can still use it," Kenta said softly, "then maybe this fight will end quickly."
"But if he burns out first…"
He didn't finish the thought.
He didn't need to.
If Kei collapsed, surrounded by thousands of Mist soldiers —
and with the Fourth Mizukage himself present —
the result would be inevitable.
Not even Kei could survive that kind of encirclement.
And even if they somehow escaped,
the vengeance of the Mist would haunt them forever.
It wouldn't matter if they succeeded today — once the truth surfaced,
Kirigakure would never forgive them.
Not Konoha. Not the Uchiha. Not anyone involved.
An entire nation humiliated by three covert shinobi…
No other village would stand idly by either.
Kenta exhaled through his teeth.
This was no longer just a battle — it was a political catastrophe in the making.
Ayaka's pale eyes flicked toward him.
She could see the same dread in his chakra flow.
They both knew what was at stake.
If they were missing-nin or mercenaries, it wouldn't matter.
But they weren't.
They were Konoha shinobi —
and one of them was tied directly to the Hokage himself.
If this ever came to light, the fallout would be explosive.
Every rival clan, every hidden faction would use it to their advantage.
"That's why we can't be identified," Ayaka said calmly.
"Not now, not ever."
Her voice was steady, almost emotionless, but her Byakugan glimmered faintly.
"None of the ninja families here will dare expose us — whether they're allied to us or not. They can't afford to.
The only variable is whether that damned Kaguya clan succeeds in their plan."
"Captain said they won't," Kenta muttered.
"And honestly, I believe him."
He took a breath and straightened up. "All right. We focus on regrouping with him first."
He scanned the smoking battlefield ahead.
"It's too chaotic to move openly. Let's find a couple of corpses, use Transformation Jutsu, and blend in."
Ayaka frowned slightly. "That's… the least reliable plan possible."
Kenta gave a humorless grin. "Yeah. But right now, it's the only one that'll work."
On a battlefield like this, the Transformation Technique was normally suicide.
The chakra fluctuations it caused were easy to sense.
But here — amid the storm of energy, screams, and fire — no one had the focus to notice.
Every shinobi's chakra was already boiling,
their senses numbed by fatigue and fear.
In chaos like this, camouflage became a weapon.
Meanwhile, far across the battlefield,
a pair of golden eyes gleamed in the mist.
Orochimaru stood on a broken ridge,
watching Kei's rampage with fascination curling at his lips.
He licked them slowly, eyes glinting with feverish curiosity.
"So this is the power of an Uchiha…" he whispered.
"Magnificent."
For a long time, he said nothing — only watched, entranced.
The destruction was mesmerizing —
the black flames, the giant's skeletal form, the inhuman precision of each strike.
A true weapon of chaos.
He wondered quietly to himself…
If it were me in his place,
could I ever reach that level of control?
The answer, even to him, was uncertain.
After thinking it through carefully, Orochimaru had to admit — even with all his talents, all his forbidden techniques, he could never reach Uchiha Kei's level of destruction.
But that realization didn't discourage him.
Their fighting styles were entirely different.
He didn't need such overwhelming, apocalyptic force to achieve his ends.
If he wanted to inflict equal casualties — through toxins, traps, or serpentine assassinations — he could do it in his own way.
Still, witnessing such raw power firsthand stirred something deep inside him.
That mangekyō sharingan, that mythical eye that could summon the power of gods and demons — it fascinated him.
No, it consumed him.
Kei's strength was impossible without it.
A year or two ago, this man was a mere shadow on the battlefield —
a survivor, trembling between life and death, unsure if he'd even see another sunrise.
And now?
He stood alone against an entire hidden village.
He forced the Mizukage himself to take the field.
The leap in power was absurd — monstrous.
Anyone who saw it would feel envy… and fear.
Orochimaru was no exception.
He was both jealous and entranced.
Such power — this was what he had sought his entire life.
Power that transcended mortality. Power that defied logic itself.
But desire alone wasn't enough for him.
Orochimaru didn't just crave the strength of the Mangekyō —
he wanted to understand it.
He knew the truth better than anyone:
there was no such thing as power without cost.
Even Kekkei Genkai followed rules —
every gift of bloodline came with its principle, its balance, its curse.
So what were the laws governing the Mangekyō Sharingan?
How was it awakened?
What emotion, what sacrifice unlocked its potential?
And how did it unleash such incomprehensible power?
Those questions burned brighter in his mind than greed ever could.
That was the knowledge he truly desired.
"Pity…" he murmured, his tongue flicking over his lips.
"If only I hadn't left Konoha so early, perhaps…"
He stopped himself and chuckled softly.
Wishful thinking.
Even if he'd stayed, he knew Kei would never have allowed him close enough to take what he wanted.
And Fugaku Uchiha, the clan head who also possessed the Mangekyō, would have guarded that secret with his life.
Orochimaru's pale eyes narrowed as he recalled the events of the Nine-Tails' Attack.
He had left Konoha by then, but his web of spies was still intact.
He knew everything — every whisper, every rumor.
He knew that Fugaku, quiet and reserved though he seemed,
hid a power equal to that of the Fourth Hokage.
A man who bowed politely in public but harbored the eyes of a god.
Orochimaru couldn't help but smile ruefully.
Had he fought harder for the Hokage's seat…
Had he cultivated ties with the Uchiha instead of isolating them…
Things might have been different.
But the past couldn't be rewritten.
Even if he could turn back time, he would likely make the same choices —
pursuing forbidden knowledge above all else.
Maybe, he thought with a wry smirk, he would have at least taken a few more Sharingan from Kei when he had the chance.
"Still," he whispered to himself, "there will be other opportunities."
Orochimaru turned away from the battlefield, the glow of Amaterasu flickering in his golden eyes one last time.
He began to leave, his voice curling into the wind.
"And besides… Kei-kun," he said softly, his lips stretching into a serpentine grin,
"I suspect you'll have your hands full soon enough.
And when you do… you'll come to me.
You will need me."
"Don't take another step!"
The hoarse voice tore through the smoke.
Orochimaru paused, his smile fading slightly.
Ahead of Kei stood Ao, trembling but unyielding.
Blood poured from his abdomen, his uniform soaked crimson.
Yet his left hand still gripped his sword tightly,
his Byakugan glaring with desperate resolve.
He was dying — and he knew it.
This battle had broken him.
At first, he had held back, waiting to gather intelligence.
He wanted to analyze the mysterious man's jutsu, to understand his abilities before acting.
But when he finally moved, it was already too late.
Attacking Kei's Susanoo head-on was nothing short of suicide.
When that monstrous construct finally faded,
he thought his moment had come.
Instead, he discovered something worse —
Kei's true speed.
He couldn't even follow his movements with the Byakugan.
The masked man before him was no ordinary shinobi —
he was a predator built for slaughter.
Even when Ao managed to shatter a layer of his chakra armor,
Kei simply moved faster — shedding bulk for precision,
transforming into a weapon of pure efficiency.
Ao's thoughts raced.
Is this still human?
The Uchiha were legendary, yes — but this was beyond legend.
This was power that defied the limits of the shinobi world itself.
One man tearing apart an army.
"Are you trying to play the hero?"
Kei's voice cut through the chaos, low and almost curious.
This time, he didn't bother to disguise it.
Gone was the distorted tone of his mask —
the voice that spoke now was calm, youthful, and unsettlingly real.
Cold, yes… but soft enough to carry life beneath the frost.
Ao froze.
That voice — he knew that voice.
His eyes widened as recognition dawned,
and horror spread across his face.
It was a voice he could never forget.
The voice of the cold-eyed boy who had once, without hesitation,
nearly killed Terumī Mei right before his eyes.