The bone-crushing pain twisted Orochimaru's expression for a brief instant, but it did nothing to shake his resolve. He lowered his head, mouth gaping open, and from within slithered a serpent's head. Out of that serpent's mouth protruded a gleaming blade.
And—
Lightning crackled and coiled around the sword's edge.
Like a red-hot knife sliding effortlessly through butter, the lightning-wrapped blade extended at blinding speed, boring straight through the stone without the slightest resistance. It pierced Kyoichi as well—effortlessly skewering him. Yet… there was no trace of triumph on Orochimaru's face.
The next moment,
the hand gripping his ankle melted away into mud.
Another earth clone.
Then—
A murderous gust swept in from behind.
"Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!!"
Without even turning, Orochimaru's right arm stretched back with an inhuman flexibility. From his sleeve erupted more than a dozen serpents, each gaping wide to reveal razor-sharp fangs. They lashed out, coiling around the charging Kyoichi and binding him tight.
And then—
The snakes constricted with crushing force, squeezing that Kyoichi until he burst apart, collapsing into mud that splattered across the ground.
A clone.
Another damned earth clone.
Orochimaru frowned, brushing mud from his shoulder as he swallowed the Kusanagi Sword back into his body. Every encounter so far had turned out to be nothing but clones. His sensory ability, as he'd admitted himself, wasn't crude—but it was nowhere near the level of a Yamanaka like Inoichi.
Unless the enemy came close,
he couldn't precisely lock on to the presence and movement of every chakra signature around him.
And so—
Now that Kyoichi had begun weaving illusions and feints with earth clones, Orochimaru had no way of knowing where the real body was hiding.
Still—
As the saying goes: you have your schemes, I have my countermeasures.
Without the butcher, must one settle for eating beasts with fur?
If exact sensing was impossible—
then brute force would have to do!
"Lightning Release: Spider Web!"
Orochimaru suddenly crouched low.
His hands flashed through seals before slamming a palm against the ground. Lightning Release chakra surged outward; sparks raced across the stone platform in jagged arcs. In the blink of an eye, centered on Orochimaru, the leaping currents spread into the shape of a vast spider's web that blanketed the entire arena.
Immediately—
Three spots within the web flared abnormally. Lightning crawled upward, climbing along invisible forms.
The next instant,
three figures of Kyoichi shimmered into view, forced out of invisibility by the current. Each body convulsed and then collapsed into mud. Clones—every last one. Judging from their positions, they'd been preparing to ambush him from three sides.
Fortunately, Orochimaru's Spider Web Jutsu had nullified Kyoichi's unseen counterattack just in time.
Still,
he hadn't caught the real Kyoichi—only more earth clones.
Swish!
At the edge of the platform,
Kyoichi suddenly burst up from the ground, leaping away to gain distance.
"Trying to buy time, are you?"
Orochimaru chuckled.
The battle, without either realizing it, had turned into a war of attrition.
Looking over the techniques Kyoichi had used—though they appeared aggressive, they were in fact cautious. Clone after clone had confronted him, while the real body stayed hidden, avoiding risk. But clones, by nature, couldn't withstand prolonged combat.
If you couldn't finish an opponent in one decisive strike, the enemy would destroy the clone instead.
That's why,
true killing blows were usually dealt by the real body—trading injury for victory if necessary.
But if one's only goal was stalling for time, avoiding a life-or-death clash, or even sidestepping a clear outcome—
then using clones to shoulder the danger was undoubtedly the right call.
"I'll just see how long your Sage Mode can last."
Orochimaru had no fear of an endurance match.
He wasn't born of a great clan, nor did he inherit any special bloodline. Yet to be assigned under Sarutobi Hiruzen, the direct disciple of the Second Hokage, alongside Jiraiya—there had been more than just their unblemished backgrounds. Both he and Jiraiya had been born with an abnormally vast amount of chakra.
In the shinobi world,
there were two roads to power: bloodline—or mutation.
Orochimaru and Jiraiya were prime examples of the latter. No bloodline inheritance, not even a notable family name—yet through sheer natural mutation, they possessed chakra reserves rivaling the scions of great clans. That innate gift had been their key into Hiruzen's tutelage alongside Tsunade, the princess of the Senju.
As for their contracts with Ryūchi Cave and Mount Myōboku—that was fortune that came later.
In short—
Orochimaru had been born with enormous chakra reserves. And through years of researching immortality, reshaping and remolding his own body, he had transformed himself drastically—even if true immortality still eluded him.
Even against a Jinchūriki,
he could fight a war of attrition without fear.
Kyoichi, on the other hand—
Orochimaru was deeply curious how long his Sage Mode would hold out. From what Kyoichi had said earlier, his self-taught Sage Mode drew from Mount Myōboku. But Orochimaru knew: Myōboku's Sage Mode required the user to remain perfectly still while absorbing nature energy, making it unsustainable for extended battles.
The true contract holders could fuse with the Myōboku toads, separating "stillness" for gathering energy and "motion" for combat. The toads handled the former, while the shinobi focused on fighting—dramatically extending the duration of Sage Mode.
But Kyoichi was self-taught.
No contract with Myōboku.
No sage toads aiding him.
So, in theory,
his Sage Mode shouldn't last long.
Of course—
that was only if his self-taught method carried the same limitation.
Regardless, one thing was clear: subduing Kyoichi quickly would be no simple task. An endurance match was inevitable.
Orochimaru spread his jaws wide, hands stretching from his throat to wrench them open to the size of a barrel. From that gaping maw, another Orochimaru—whole, uninjured, and dripping with mucus—slithered out.
Then,
he darted in pursuit of the fleeing Kyoichi.