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Boom!
Ōnoki's short, frail body was sent flying like a baseball off a bat, smashed away with a single punch from Hayato. The old man hit the ground with a loud thud—but this time, Hayato himself actually staggered back two steps from the impact.
"Earth Release: Rock Lodging Destruction!"
Before Hayato could charge in for the follow-up, one of the Iwa-nin who had been holding back during his brawl with Ōnoki launched a massive jutsu. A gigantic boulder came crashing down from the sky, its sheer weight pressing the air so heavy it was almost suffocating.
Hayato let out a furious roar and swung his colossal fists upward.
Crack!
His punch collided with the boulder, shattering it into countless fragments with a deafening explosion. The rock disintegrated into dust midair—but at the same time, sharp cracks echoed from Hayato's own fists. The force had snapped more than a few of his bones.
The pain only stoked his rage. With another roar, he swept his other fist across the battlefield, mowing through the Iwa-nin around him. His wounds were already knitting themselves back together, and even the gaping injuries Ōnoki's Dust Release had carved into him were halfway healed in mere moments.
Boom!
His fist slammed into the ground, making the earth quake violently. Blood sprayed everywhere as unlucky shinobi were crushed to pulp beneath his blows.
"Damn it, damn it, damn it! Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
Ōnoki, battered and broken, forced himself up. His arm was bent at a grotesque angle, clearly shattered, his body torn and bloodied until he was almost painted red. And yet, despite his state, the stubborn old man clenched his teeth and pushed out another devastating Dust Release, ignoring the pain screaming from his mangled arm.
Shhhhk!
The blinding beam struck Hayato square in the chest, its power erasing matter itself. A gaping, see-through hole tore open in his torso, the Dust Release burning a perfect passage right through him.
Hayato glanced down at the hole in his chest. For a split second, his movement froze.
Then—
"ROOOOOAAAR!!!"
His roar shook the battlefield. Fury twisted his voice, and his already towering body began to swell even larger, like it had no limit. In the blink of an eye, he grew into a giant over ten meters tall, looming between heaven and earth. As his frame surged upward, the massive wound left by Dust Release simply closed over, healing completely as though it had never existed.
Not scarred. Not weakened. Not even slowed down.
Perfectly healed.
With another earth-shaking roar, Hayato's enormous fist hammered down, splitting the battlefield itself. Deep fissures tore across the ground as if the world was cracking apart beneath him.
"No way… No, this is impossible!"
"This thing's a monster!"
"He has to be a tailed beast!"
The remaining Iwa-nin broke into panic. If Hayato had only been a tough opponent who carried his wounds, they might have still believed they had a chance. But this? The instant regeneration, the overwhelming size and power—every strike only made him stronger.
For the first time, the proud shinobi of Iwagakure felt true fear.
How could anyone hope to fight a monster like that?
"D-Damn it! Dust Release—!"Ōnoki staggered on his feet, teeth clenched, his face twisted with rage as he tried to muster the strength to unleash Dust Release again. But his injuries were too severe. His body trembled, refusing to obey, and even attempting the technique now felt impossibly heavy.
"Lord Tsuchikage! Retreat! Please, you have to fall back! That thing—he's a monster, an unkillable monster!"
One of his personal guards appeared at his side, grabbing his arm before he could force the jutsu out again, urging him to escape instead.
Hayato's power was overwhelming—so overwhelming it bordered on invincible. Every time he was wounded, he only grew stronger, like pain itself was fuel, like nothing in the world could kill him. It was like staring down a tailed beast. If Ōnoki were still in his prime, if he weren't already bleeding and battered, maybe the Iwagakure shinobi would still have hope. But right now, the great Tsuchikage looked beaten and worn, blood streaking down his robes, his arm mangled so badly that even forming seals was a struggle.
How could they possibly defeat a monster like this?
"Damn it… you want me to run?" Ōnoki barked, eyes blazing.
"Lord Tsuchikage! This is just a strategic withdrawal!" the guard insisted. "We don't even know the full extent of his abilities—there's no way to prepare countermeasures like this. If we keep going, we'll both end up destroyed. Yes, maybe we could bring him down in the end, but Konoha and Sunagakure are already waiting for their chance to move. Please, my lord—think of the bigger picture!"
Even in the heat of battle, the man gave Ōnoki an excuse to save face—a path to retreat without dishonor.
The old man's pride warred with his reason, his expression shifting as the words sank in. Finally, he gritted his teeth and growled, "Fine. Then I'll go. I'll go back and prepare a plan to deal with him."
"Yes, Lord Tsuchikage!" the guard replied firmly, then spun on his heel and charged at Hayato, determined to buy as much time as possible. The enemy's power was too overwhelming, his strikes too fierce—without someone holding him back, Ōnoki would never get away.
Ōnoki's eyes burned red as he watched, his heart torn, but his mind screamed the truth: the only choice left to him was to retreat. To escape.
He saw the Iwa shinobi around him biting down their fear, hurling themselves again and again at Hayato to draw his attention, to buy their leader precious seconds. Clenching his jaw so hard it hurt, Ōnoki forced down every other emotion clawing at him, then turned and sped away into the distance.
"....."