At this very moment, the Daimyō of the Land of Water could only describe his situation as utterly hopeless—heaven offered no aid, and the earth no refuge.
Every guard he relied upon had already been cut down by Senju Haruto.
Though he commanded an army numbering in the tens of thousands, not a single one of them stood at his side now.
One man at arm's length, yet it feels as though an entire nation is against me.
That ancient saying had never felt more true.
And yet, when he thought about surrendering all that he had—his position, his authority, his wealth—only to hand it over to the boy standing before him, the Daimyō's heart burned with fury.
That humiliation… it was worse than death!
"Even if you kill me here," the Daimyō growled, forcing his trembling voice into one of defiance, "do you truly believe you can do as you please? This is the Land of Water!"
"Even if I die, the Daimyō's clan and my faction remain. My armies will march on Kirigakure, raze it to the ground, and slaughter every single one of your shinobi—" His eyes sharpened. "Including you."
"Do you understand now why shinobi villages must always submit to the great nations? Yes, shinobi may outmatch ordinary samurai in skill, but when faced with overwhelming numbers, even shinobi are destined to lose!"
"And most importantly—if you dare lay hands on the Land of Water, you will have declared war on the entire shinobi world. At that time—"
But his words ended abruptly.
The Daimyō's vision tilted, the world shifting strangely. Warm, thick liquid splattered across his cheek.
He looked down. His body still stood upright. A geyser of blood erupted from the neck, painting the room crimson.
My… head?
A heartbeat later, he realized what had happened.
His head was no longer attached to his shoulders.
Aburame Torigen froze in place, stupefied. Just a moment ago, the Daimyō had been brimming with feigned confidence, trying to use words to force Haruto into retreat.
And in the next instant—his head had been severed, blood spraying in an arc three meters high. The head tumbled through the air, spinning, before landing on the floor with a dull thud.
It rolled another meter before coming to rest, eyes wide open, locked in a stare of utter disbelief—glaring still at Senju Haruto, glaring still at Torigen.
Torigen's breath caught. Did Haruto-sama really just…?
Could this man truly be so ruthless that he was willing to set himself against the entire shinobi world—to overturn the established order itself?
"Haruto-sama…" Torigen whispered, his lungs pulling in a sharp breath of cold air.
"So much pointless talking," Haruto muttered with disdain. "No guards left at your side, and you still thought an empty bluff would work?"
If threats could sway fate, this world would not be fractured into so many warring nations.
He had half-expected the Daimyō to hand over control of the Land of Water more sensibly. Even if it meant losing his position, the man could at least have secured wealth enough to live out his next life in comfort.
Instead—Haruto had wasted no time in making the choice for him.
"Torigen. Take the Daimyō's head."
Haruto cast one last glance at the body as its pupils dilated, then turned to leave the chamber.
"Uh…" Torigen hesitated for a moment, stunned, before realization struck. He crouched down beside the corpse, grabbed the Daimyō's hair, and lifted the head as though hauling up a melon.
He could not guess at Haruto's true intentions—but as a subordinate, obedience came first.
Clutching the grisly trophy, Torigen hurried out of the chamber, catching up with Haruto's stride.
"Shall we…" he began, voice faltering, trying to form the question.
But before he could say more, Haruto raised a hand, silencing him.
Haruto knew full well—the Daimyō was only a feudal lord. Even in death, the power behind him remained strong, with countless rival factions waiting to move.
Killing a Daimyō alone was not enough.
Back in Konoha, when he had slain the Daimyō of the Land of Fire, he and advisors like Koharu and Homura had prepared follow-up measures—eradicating the power groups tied to the Daimyō to stabilize the situation completely.
The same would be required here.
Haruto's eyes shifted. Black irises flared scarlet as three tomoe spun rapidly into existence, shifting, transforming.
The Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan awakened.
"Susanoo."
His voice was low, almost a growl.
In the next instant, Haruto unleashed his chakra without restraint.
Since he had already revealed the True Thousand-Hands technique the night before, this time he would unveil his other ultimate power—the Complete-Form Susanoo.
He had never once gone all out with it since mastering the Mangekyō.
"…Though I fear the Land of Water's landscape may never be the same again."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips as chakra surged, tearing apart the very building around him.
And then it rose—tens of meters tall—the Complete-Form Susanoo, its massive body towering like a god of war. Its overwhelming chakra blasted outward in waves, shaking the earth itself.
Torigen's breath caught again as he suddenly found himself… floating.
No—that wasn't right. He wasn't floating at all. He was suspended within the ornate crest on Susanoo's forehead, carried aloft by Haruto's power.
"Th-this is…" Torigen's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his entire body trembling.
Yesterday's Thousand-Armed Kannon had already shattered everything he believed about ninjutsu.
And now—today—Haruto unveiled yet another jutsu that rivaled even that.
"This is… the power of the Sage of Six Paths himself…"
But Haruto did not reply. His gaze was fixed on the earth below, eyes cold and focused.
True, the Complete Susanoo was not as massive as the True Thousand-Hands. But that was only for ordinary Susanoo.
His own could not be compared by common standards.
The titanic warrior shifted under his command, turning its head toward the direction of Kirigakure.
From Haruto's vantage point, the armies encircling the village looked like nothing more than ants, packed so densely that individuals blurred together.
His brow furrowed slightly.
If he could not distinguish them clearly, then neither could they clearly see him. That meant the terror inspired by displaying the Daimyō's severed head might not spread far enough.
"…Then I will show them the true language of power."
His words echoed, and Susanoo's massive hand reached for the chakra-forged blade at its waist.
Meanwhile, down below—though the soldiers might not have seen the Daimyō's head—they could not miss the colossus that now towered over the land.
Inside Kirigakure itself—
Zabuza was preparing to cast the Hidden Mist Jutsu, hoping to form a barrier that would confuse the enemy when battle erupted.
But just as he bit into a soldier pill to restore his chakra, he froze.
Above the horizon, the Complete-Form Susanoo rose into the sky, its aura saturating the land with dread.
Though it differed from the Thousand-Hands technique, the sense of oppression, of raw terror—it was no less overwhelming.
If the Thousand-Armed Kannon was a statue of the Buddha—
Then the towering Susanoo before them was nothing less than a demon, looming over the world itself.
"…Haruto," Zabuza muttered, voice tinged with awe.
In his mind, there was only one shinobi alive who could wield such unfathomable power.
Senju Haruto.
Yamato returned swiftly, breath tight. He had not found Haruto in the Mizukage's building, only learned that he had left with Torigen.
Now, seeing this scene unfold, the truth struck him—
Haruto intended to face everything… alone.
He would descend upon the shinobi world as an absolute terror.