Chapter 80: The Staged Fall
Gaara's face was a grotesque mask, half his body encased in a shell of condensed sand. He had lost all reason, becoming a creature of pure, cruel tyranny. The clarity in his eyes was gone, replaced only by an all-consuming desire to kill.
"Losing his mind so easily? How disappointing. But no matter, it simply means the plan must be initiated ahead of schedule."
In the face of Gaara's overwhelming, bestial presence, Aizen remained the picture of serene calm. To any truly careful observer, his composure was unnerving, as if every event was unfolding according to a script he had written himself.
Gurgle…
The One-Tail's chakra began to visibly spread, crawling over Gaara's body like a malevolent tide. Simultaneously, his aura skyrocketed, far surpassing anything a normal genin could possess, instilling a deep-seated fear in all who felt it.
"Kill you! I will kill you!"
Gaara's shouts were no longer words, but guttural roars. Only pure killing intent remained in his heart.
In the Stands
Orochimaru's brow furrowed slightly beneath his disguise. He had not anticipated the situation deviating so sharply from the script. His plan had relied on Gaara easily eliminating this Aizen brat before the main assault on Konoha began. Now, Gaara's premature rampage meant the entire operation would have to be launched ahead of schedule.
His serpentine eyes flicked towards the opposite stand, where a Konoha ANBU member stood—Yakushi Kabuto in disguise. The moment Orochimaru's gaze swept over him, Kabuto understood. His hands formed a subtle, almost invisible genjutsu seal under his cloak.
Meanwhile, the attention of the entire stadium was captivated by Gaara's transformation. They couldn't comprehend why this genin was suddenly radiating such terrifying chakra, a power that made even seasoned chunin and jonin feel a chill of dread.
Tear!
A massive arm, sculpted from sand but now etched with clear, bestial markings, materialized before the crowd. This was different from his previous constructs. Its five claws were sharp enough to pierce steel, radiating a power that promised utter annihilation.
With a roar, Gaara sent the gigantic palm blasting toward Aizen, its speed blinding, its path seemingly impossible to evade.
Aizen's brow furrowed slightly—a perfect display of feigned concern. He stepped out, his body flickering as he narrowly avoided the strike.
BOOM!
The sharp claws slammed into the ground where he had just stood. The solid arena floor shattered, torn apart as shocking fissures spread outwards like a spider's web. The spectacle was both terrifying and mesmerizing.
A wave of panic and uproar swept through the audience as they grasped the severity of the situation. This level of destructive power was far beyond any genin.
Competitors' Waiting Room
The other six finalists stared dumbfounded at the scene outside the window, rendered speechless.
Whether it was Gaara's monstrous power or Aizen's preternatural evasion, the level of their battle was beyond the imagination of these young genin, making them feel utterly inadequate.
"Aizen has been hiding his true capabilities. He is truly Konoha's genius," Aburame Shino stated, his voice laced with rare, genuine admiration, placing Aizen at the very top of their generation.
"Damn it! Using this power now is producing side effects too early!" Kankuro muttered, exchanging a look of deep anxiety with Temari. Their plan required waiting for the signal before revealing their full hand. They had underestimated Aizen, and now Gaara had been forced into his full, unstable state prematurely.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
One massive crater after another appeared in the arena's center.
Aizen continuously retreated, a picture of desperate evasion, while Gaara's sandy palm pursued him relentlessly, launching one devastating attack after another. To every observer, it was a life-or-death dance on a razor's edge, where a single misstep meant a gruesome end.
"Aizen, you have to hold on!" In the stands, Hinata's small hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles were white. Her heart was a tumult of anxiety, her silent prayers a desperate mantra. She had been so elated by Aizen's brilliant performance, truly believing he could win. Now, the sudden turn of events and Gaara's rampage had thrown everything into chaos. Aizen was active only in his evasion, forced back step by step, a moment away from being ruthlessly crushed.
"You idiot… if you can't hold on, don't push yourself! Your performance is already amazing. Even if you surrender now, you've earned everyone's recognition. You can still become a chunin!" On the other side of the stands, Kurenai's brow was furrowed, her expression outwardly calm but her heart a storm of unease and fear. With her expert eye, she could see Aizen was at an absolute disadvantage. The power erupting from Gaara made even her own heart palpitate. Aizen's strength had surpassed all expectations, but it would not be enough to best this monster.
No one was optimistic about Aizen's chances. They were all certain of his defeat. Gaara's attacks grew ever more ferocious, and Aizen, with no more room to retreat, was finally cornered into a dead end of the arena.
Aizen's face showed a mask of perfect worry, but inwardly, he smiled. This relentless pursuit, this desperate evasion—it was all an illusion he was carefully crafting for the grand moment about to arrive.
The moment Aizen was forced into the corner, a look of savage ecstasy twisted Gaara's enraged features. He roared, and the massive, lined palm swung down, aiming to smash Aizen's slender form into paste.
BOOM!
Under the gaze of thousands, the sandy palm connected with Aizen's body with an earth-shattering impact.
"NO!" Hinata's agonized scream cut through the air, powerless to stop the tragedy.
They saw Aizen's figure struck mercilessly by the giant hand. Under the colossal force of the impact, his body seemed to disintegrate, dissolving into a fine, crimson mist before being utterly torn apart.
In the sight of all, blood—vivid and red—splattered across the sand. Aizen Sōsuke had been cruelly destroyed, his body shattered.
"Aizen Sōsuke is dead!"
The thought seized everyone's mind. The evidence before their eyes was undeniable. Konoha's rising star had fallen, extinguished by Gaara's hand.
However, no one noticed. In the split second before the sand hand made contact, a faint, mocking smile had touched Aizen's lips, a fleeting expression of absolute control, as if everything was proceeding exactly as he desired.