Splinters rained down, the towering radiance of Wood Release collapsing into ruin.
Yet Xuanyue did not relax for an instant.
Across the battlefield, Senju Hashirama landed lightly, his gaze sweeping past the fallen wooden colossus before settling squarely on his opponent.
"No choice, then."
His voice was calm, almost quiet, as he pressed his palms together.
It was the silence before the storm.
Xuanyue's eyes narrowed, breath catching in his chest.
The next heartbeat shattered it.
"Sage Art!"
Hashirama roared, and his chakra exploded outward—vast and overwhelming, eclipsing everything that had preceded it. Crimson markings raced across his cheeks, a target-shaped seal bloomed on his forehead, and his dark irises flared into golden rings.
The Sage Mode had awakened.
And still, it was not enough.
Hashirama's face, now traced with the lines of a sage, tilted skyward as his chakra surged higher, vast as an ocean tide. The earth groaned beneath the pressure.
His hands pressed tighter together.
"Wood Release: True Several Thousand Hands!"
The world answered with thunder.
The ground split apart with a roar louder than any battle before it. Before Xuanyue's grim stare and the horrified silence of the onlookers, an impossibly vast Buddha tore free from the depths of the earth—its body stretching beyond sight, its arms numbering in the thousands.
Compared to this, the fiery Enjin and the wooden colossus were no more than children's toys.
Xuanyue had seen this form once before, years ago, through the veil of fiction. But standing here now, with the thousand-armed Buddha bridging heaven and earth, awe and disbelief rooted him where he stood.
Could a human truly wield such power?
The answer was in the faces of those watching—Retsuto, A, Byakuren, and Ishikawa. Men who had once seen this very sight in the Warring States era. Horror shadowed their eyes even now, for this was the image of the god who had ended an age of chaos.
This was the god of shinobi.
Hashirama's shout broke the silence. From atop the colossal Buddha, his voice thundered:
"Here I come, Xuanyue!"
Xuanyue's lips twitched bitterly. I'd much rather you didn't!
For all the fight he had put up until now, for all the fragile confidence he had built, it vanished beneath the crushing reality of Hashirama's full power.
And then it came.
"Sage Art: Wood Release, True Several Thousand Hands—Buddha on the Peak!"
The battlefield quaked. Hashirama descended upon him like a god of creation, the Buddha's arms rising in an endless tide.
Enjin roared in defiance, lashing out with its six blazing arms. But as with Kurama in ages past, the giant fox was swatted aside in mere moments, crushed in the palm of a thousand wooden hands.
Xuanyue spat a curse. "This is cheating!"
Not even Enjin—who could wrestle evenly with a perfect Susanoo or the wooden colossus—could endure more than a few exchanges. And Kurama, the strongest of the tailed beasts, had fared no better.
Xuanyue shuddered to imagine what this technique might do to the Ten-Tails itself.
Hashirama wasn't even on the Sage of Six Paths' level, yet in this moment—wielding his ultimate Wood Release—he seemed even more terrifying.
Enjin fell, broken.
Xuanyue, now the sole target of countless grasping hands, felt like the Monkey King pinned beneath Five Elements Mountain—no escape, no reprieve.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World!"
In desperation, Xuanyue unleashed his kekkei tōta. A blinding cube of annihilation flared, stripping away a dozen arms in an instant.
But it was not enough.
For every hand he destroyed, dozens more rose from the Buddha's frame, blotting out the sky, each strike shattering the land as if the world itself were ending.
"Farewell, Xuanyue."
From above, Hashirama's voice fell heavy, tinged with respect and regret. He raised his hand. The final storm of hands descended.
Xuanyue, broken and bleeding, lifted his head. His body trembled, but his smile was steady. His whisper was too soft for Hashirama to hear.
"Not farewell… but see you again, Hashirama."
He had known this end was inevitable since the Five Kage had cornered him, denying him any chance at peace.
When Hashirama's Buddha had risen, the last fragile thread of hope had snapped.
It's time to prepare for the future.
Gazing over the blood scattered across the battlefield, Xuanyue drew one last breath. His hands formed a seal unlike any other.
"Forbidden Art: Breath of Eternal Slumber."
Dark sigils crawled across his body, interlocking into a flowing black membrane. The world itself seemed to freeze. His wounds no longer bled, his raging chakra fell silent, and his heart stilled.
Life was sealed in place.
At the cost of his soul.
"Until we meet again… in the future."
With those last words, his presence vanished. His body sank beneath the battlefield, swallowed and hidden by the black membrane, merging seamlessly with the earth itself.
The Buddha's strike landed. The ground collapsed into a cavernous crater.
"It's over."
Hashirama exhaled deeply, sensing Xuanyue's chakra vanish utterly. Sage Mode faded, and exhaustion claimed him. Even his godlike body bowed beneath the weight of such a battle—no less taxing than his fated clash with Madara.
"Brother!"
Tobirama appeared in a blur, scanning the ruin. "Xuanyue is dead?"
Hashirama straightened, nodding once. His Sage perception admitted no lies.
Tobirama's lips pressed thin. "And the body?"
Hashirama shook his head. "I couldn't hold back. There's nothing left."
"Pity."
Though disappointed, Tobirama's eyes gleamed faintly. There were still traces of Xuanyue's blood scattered across the battlefield—more than enough for his research.
Hashirama caught the thought at once. His tone hardened. "Collect what remains. Then return it to the Yui clan. He deserves that much respect."
"…Brother."
Tobirama fell silent, then stepped forward sharply, interposing between his weary brother and the approaching chakra signatures.
The other leaders had arrived—Retsuto, A, Byakuren, and Ishikawa.
"Xuanyue… is finally dead."
Their voices carried the weight of relief, yet beneath it lingered unease. One menace was gone—but Hashirama still loomed above them, a greater shadow none could ignore.
Thankfully, this man sought no conquest.
"Then let us welcome the era of peace."
The four shadows extended their hands.
"Peace, at last," Hashirama murmured, joining them.
And so the five hands of the new shinobi world clasped together, sealing the birth of a new order.
A dream born from endless bloodshed.
For now, it seemed real.
One day later, Senju Tobirama returned to the battlefield, now a hollowed valley.
"Truly nothing left?"
He scoured the ruins for hours, but found no trace of Xuanyue's body. Only a few cells, scraps of blood. Enough to satisfy his hunger for knowledge.
Others would come after him. Again and again, shinobi seek the remnants of the man who had stood shoulder to shoulder with gods.
Years later, a man of arrogance and might stood here as well. He dug nothing, only cast a cold glance across the valley before departing with a dismissive snort.
Decades passed. The valley was given a name: the Valley of God's Fall.
And one day, a pale man with golden serpent eyes and a tongue of crimson stepped into its depths. His smile stretched wide as he whispered:
"The one who rivaled the gods… Don't disappoint me now."
A new story began.