The moment both sides tore apart the fragile peace treaties, the Third Great Ninja War truly began.
Under the combined advance of Kumogakure and Iwagakure, the cunning Third Hokage didn't meet them head-on. Instead, he ordered Jiraiya and Orochimaru to each lead their own divisions, splitting their forces toward the borders of the Land of Lightning and the Land of Earth, opening two new battlefronts at once.
Naturally, the two invading villages were furious. How dare Konoha take the fight to their territory?
They quickly sent forces to intercept Jiraiya and Orochimaru, while the troops that had already crossed into the Land of Fire began their assigned mission—raids, ambushes, and sabotage deep within enemy territory.
But the joint army's leaders were soon overwhelmed by headaches of their own. The coalition had been formed hastily. Their goals aligned, but their pride did not. Two great nations, two rival shinobi forces—no one was willing to take orders from the other.
Their command structure was a mess, and worse still, they were fighting on enemy land. Traps, ambushes, and constant harassment from Konoha's squads kept their nerves on edge. Even the strongest shinobi were beginning to lose patience, breaking into arguments and blaming each other.
After a long and tense discussion, they came to a single decision—split up.
Each side would operate independently, take their own risks, claim their own spoils. No shared command, no shared victories, and no arguments over rewards.
The plan sounded simple enough. Unfortunately, it came far too late.
By the time they agreed to part ways, the combined army had already wandered deep into the forests of the Land of Fire. And by then, it was too late—they were surrounded.
Konoha's forces had closed the net.
Panic spread like wildfire. The alliance was trapped, supply lines cut off, and communication shattered. Their food stores wouldn't last three days.
Those too hot-headed to endure any longer charged out with explosive tags wrapped around their bodies, roaring as they detonated themselves in bursts of light and fire. Those who clung to hope held out a little longer, but eventually hunger and fear consumed them. When their weapons broke and their rations ran out, they surrendered.
But Konoha had no intention of taking prisoners. The captured shinobi were tied up, dragged to the front lines, and offered as sacrifices to Orochimaru's giant serpent—Manda.
The mighty combined army of the Land of Lightning and the Land of Earth had collapsed as quickly as it had formed. Later, the Third Raikage and Third Tsuchikage argued bitterly, each blaming the other for their failure. Their alliance ended not with victory, but with resentment carved deep into their hearts.
The war pressed on. Blood soaked the soil, and screams echoed across nations. Three months passed in the blink of an eye.
In the forest, a lone Konoha shinobi moved swiftly through the shadows. His green vest marked him as part of the Leaf's forces, and his eyes—red as blood—scanned every direction with razor focus.
Though his pace looked relaxed, every step followed a rhythm. He was cautious, his Sharingan catching every flicker of light and motion.
Suddenly, he stopped between two trees and looked down. Two barely visible threads glinted faintly under the dappled sunlight. Thin as spider silk, dyed faintly black—tripwires.
It was a trap.
He crouched low, studying the setup. Then he picked up a handful of pebbles and tossed them beyond the wires. When nothing happened, he smirked slightly.
"Amateurs. Must be some fresh graduates."
He drove a kunai into the dirt beside the trap, marking it for the squad behind him.
Dismantling the trap was too risky. As a forward scout, he couldn't waste time. Worse, tampering with it might trigger hidden alarms or alert enemy sentries. Better to avoid it altogether.
Carefully, he stepped over the first wire. No sound. No movement.
He smiled faintly. "Thought so."
He moved to take the next step.
A faint snap.
He froze. The line behind him had broken.
His pupils contracted. "Wind…!"
He realized too late. These weren't simple wires. They weren't meant to break—they were meant to move.
Even the faint gust from his step had been enough to trigger it.
The trap's condition wasn't "broken line." It was "vibration."
Which meant…
"There are enemies nearby!"
He instantly understood. Such delicate traps only worked if someone was close enough to strike the moment they were triggered.
For a fleeting instant, an absurd image flashed through his mind—a huge armored warrior bursting from the bushes, raising a massive sword and shouting, "Demacia!" before cleaving him in two.
He almost laughed at the absurdity, but his instincts screamed otherwise.
Before he could form a hand sign for a substitution jutsu, more wires shot out from the ground, wrapping around his limbs like snakes, stopping his movements mid-gesture.
The forest exploded in motion.
Dozens of sharpened spears and spinning kunai burst from the shadows, piercing through the man's body from every direction.
The impact echoed through the trees—swift, merciless, and final.
Blood splattered against the leaves, then fell silently to the forest floor.
Another nameless shinobi vanished into the chaos of war.
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