Ding!
Kunai clashed in midair, sparks blooming like dying fireflies before vanishing in the haze. Explosions tore through the battlefield, kicking up waves of dust and smoke that stung the eyes and burned the throat.
The Kaguya warriors moved like living blades—sharp, unrelenting, and suicidally fearless. They slammed against the Hanabira Clan's defenses again and again, every strike screaming defiance. The Hanabira shinobi fought back just as desperately, their formation buckling under the relentless tide of bone and blood.
But exhaustion was catching up to them. The Kaguya had no sense of self-preservation; they charged until their lungs tore. The Hanabira had fought too many days, bled too many nights. Their line trembled like wet paper under the next wave.
"Hold the line!" the Hanabira Patriarch roared, cutting down an enemy with one hand while forming seals with the other. "If the front breaks, they'll reach our homes! Our children!"
The clan rallied behind his cry, forcing their battered chakra reserves to burn brighter, launching one jutsu after another in a frantic attempt to delay the inevitable—to survive until the Amamiya reinforcements arrived.
Kaguya Tani, commander of the Kaguya forces, watched from a ridge, his face splattered with blood that wasn't his. His voice thundered through the chaos.
"All Kaguya! Abandon defense—push forward! I don't care what it costs!"
"You're insane!" one of his subordinates shouted back, disbelief cracking his tone. "If we abandon our position, we'll lose everything! Our supplies, our fallback routes—are you trying to starve us to death!?"
Tani turned, gaze cold and sharp enough to cut. "If we don't crush the Hanabira now, the Amamiya will join them—and we'll be slaughtered between two armies. Better to gamble on blood than die waiting for mercy."
The protester's jaw clenched. "And if we fail to take their territory? Then what, commander? We'll be wiped out without food or shelter!"
"Then we take it. End of discussion."
When the man still hesitated, Tani moved faster than thought. Bone spurs erupted from his forearm, stabbing through the dissenter's chest in one brutal motion. The man gurgled, disbelief frozen in his wide eyes as he collapsed.
"Disobey me," Tani said quietly, his voice carrying even over the din, "and you'll share his grave."
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, one by one, the Kaguya shouted their obedience. Fear had done what loyalty could not.
The next charge was madness incarnate. The Kaguya surged forward, their battle cries echoing like the howls of starving wolves. The Hanabira line, already frayed, began to crumble.
The Hanabira Patriarch's breathing grew ragged. He could feel the end pressing close. "Even if we fall," he rasped, "we'll make them choke on our bones!"
He flooded his body with chakra until it burned, his jutsu flaring to three times its normal strength. The earth cracked beneath his feet as he met the next Kaguya head-on.
Miles away, Amamiya Raizen and his squad were already racing toward the battlefield. The distant thunder of explosions rolled across the plains like a heartbeat gone wild.
"Sounds like it's turning into a massacre," Raizen muttered, tightening the straps on his pack. "Perfect timing, huh?"
He turned to his team. "Keep moving. I'll go ahead."
"Yes, Raizen-sama!"
Raizen pulled out a small lump of clay, kneading it quickly before channeling chakra into it. The material expanded, morphing into a massive bird that flapped its wings with a hiss of air.
He leapt onto its back. "Let's see what kind of mess you've made this time, Kaguya freaks."
The clay bird shot forward, slicing through clouds of smoke.
Down below, the Hanabira Patriarch fought like a dying god. His armor was shattered, his body bleeding from a dozen wounds.
"Has fate already decided to erase us?" he whispered through clenched teeth. The thought twisted in his gut like a blade. His clan—his ancestors' dream—was dying here, under his watch.
"Die, Hanabira scum!" a Kaguya shouted, lunging with his sword.
The patriarch tried to parry, but his chakra was almost gone. His limbs trembled. The blade closed in.
"So this is it," he thought bitterly. "Our roots, our pride… everything ends here. What a pathetic joke."
The sword plunged down.
And from the sky, a shadow fell—fast, silent, and armed with wings of clay.