Raizen didn't know what Madara was thinking, but the unease in the air was enough for him. They'd waited, crouched in the shadows, and yet the supposed ninja never appeared. The jungle's dense canopy offered too many hiding spots, too many unseen threats. Staying put was a death sentence.
"Time to get out of here," Raizen muttered, leading the way.
They leapt between trees, every movement cautious. Even with their sharp senses, it felt like something deadly lurked behind them—poisonous, patient, waiting for the perfect strike.
"Hateful…" Madara hissed, frustration cutting through his voice. His chakra flickered, almost spilling in anger, and he stopped mid-jump, glaring at the jungle behind them.
Raizen skidded to a halt beside him. "What is it?"
A ripple of laughter rolled through the foliage, low and mocking. It was as if the jungle itself had sprouted teeth. The predator didn't care about them—it toyed with them like a cat with a mouse.
Raizen's eyes narrowed. Whoever this was, they weren't weak. And they weren't giving him a moment to plan.
Without warning, the sky erupted with the sharp whistle of dozens of kunai. Raizen and Madara leapt in unison, twisting through the trees, deflecting attacks and keeping their momentum.
"Earth Style: Square Clay!"
Four massive chunks of clay hurtled down from the canopy. Not aimed directly at them, but close enough to bury their feet if they weren't careful. The impact detonated on contact, splattering thick, viscous mud across the jungle floor. Raizen felt his feet stick instantly. The substance hardened, crushing his movement like a steel trap.
"Damn it!" he muttered, tugging at the mud. No luck—every step became a struggle against its weight.
From the shadows above, a black figure lunged like a wolf on prey, fists wrapped in jagged stone, each strike radiating raw, brutal force.
Raizen didn't hesitate. He slashed at his ninja shoes with a sharp kunai, breaking free enough to twist his body and leap aside just as the stone-clad fist smashed into a tree, splintering wood into the air.
"Not bad," he muttered under his breath, scanning the attacker.
Madara didn't flinch. He mimicked Raizen's tactic, cutting through his ninja shoes and launching himself toward the enemy. Escape wasn't an option—facing this kind of strength meant the only way to survive was to fight.
The enemy's grin widened, bloodlust clear as he slammed his hands together.
"Earth Style: Tulong Gun!"
The ground twisted violently, jagged stone spikes erupting like thrown spears. Madara vaulted to avoid the sharp columns, cursing under his breath as he narrowly escaped their piercing tips.
"Ha ha!" The ninja's laughter rang cold. He clapped again, summoning more deadly projectiles.
"Earth Style: Rock Stealer!"
This time, the spears came faster—sharper than anything Madara had faced so far. His eyes widened. Fingers flew into hand seals with practiced speed.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
A torrent of flame blasted from his mouth, colliding with the rising stone spears. The explosion shook the jungle, splintering trunks and tossing mud everywhere. The fire didn't stop the Rock Stealer entirely, but it bought him precious seconds. Seconds to reposition, to fight, to survive.
Raizen gritted his teeth, crouching low behind a tree. "Well… this just got interesting."