Chapter 220 – The Final Battle At The Top of Konoha (Part 4)
A storm churned above Konoha.
Gale-force winds swept through the village, scattering leaves and debris into the darkened sky as the two titans—Kazane and Baal—glared each other down, suspended high above the chaos. The weight of their presence warped the air itself, pressing down on the battlefield with a force that made the very earth groan in protest.
The tension thickened with every heartbeat.
Then, in the blink of an eye—
Baal vanished.
No sound. No warning. Just a blur of warped space—and he was gone from view.
A breath later, he reappeared directly in front of Kazane, his arrival accompanied by a pulse of oppressive killing intent. Clutched in one of his four arms was a colossal warhammer, its spiked head pulsating with dark energy. He brought it down like a divine judgment from the heavens.
BOOM!!
The warhammer descended in a blinding arc, cleaving the sky with enough force to shatter a mountain range.
But Kazane was ready.
Three-Sword Style: Ultimate Technique – Tiger Hunt!
In a single fluid motion, Kazane twisted his body like a coiled bowstring, two of his swords sweeping behind him. Then, with an upward surge of force, he struck.
His blades screamed as they rose to meet the hammer, glinting like lightning forged in battle.
CLANG!!!
The impact exploded through the sky. A thunderous roar echoed for miles, splitting clouds and sending shockwaves in every direction. The force of their collision carved a rift through the atmosphere, a jagged line of distortion that shimmered with raw energy.
But what shocked every soul on the battlefield was not the explosion—
It was the deadlock.
Neither warrior moved an inch.
Two overwhelming forces collided—and canceled one another out.
The sky above Konoha had become a battlefield of gods.
For those who knew Kazane, the sight was unfathomable. His monstrous strength, especially while using the Eight Gates, was legendary. Not long ago, a minor earthquake had rippled through the village when Jiriku accidentally dropped one of Kazane's training weights during a spar with Might Guy.
And now, even that terrifying power was being matched—blow for blow.
Worse yet, Baal appeared unfazed, as though he hadn't even begun to fight seriously.
A chill crept into the hearts of the shinobi watching from below. This enemy… was unlike anything they had ever encountered.
A heartbeat later, the battlefield erupted.
From all corners of the war-torn summit, Konoha's elite shinobi and the warriors of the Four-Armed Tongtian Tribe surged into battle. Chaos erupted beneath the duel in the sky, a cacophony of clashing chakra and steel.
Three pairs of crimson Mangekyō Sharingan ignited within the Uchiha ranks, their kaleidoscopic patterns gleaming with lethal clarity.
In the distance, the earth split open as three towering alien mechs, forged from black alloy and infused with mysterious energy. Each monstrous construct bore four arms and a jagged, insectoid silhouette—nightmarish war machines fielded by the Tongtian invaders.
Without hesitation, Uchiha Fugaku, Shisui, and Kōtan launched forward to intercept them, cloaked in swirling flames and lightning. Their Sharingan eyes tracked every movement of the mechanical titans, countering brute force with deadly precision.
Elsewhere, Jiraiya, bathed in Sage Mode's natural energy, unleashed a barrage of earth-shattering ninjutsu. Orochimaru called forth a tide of forbidden techniques, his serpents slithering like shadows through the enemy ranks.
Jiriku's fists blurred through the sky, a flurry of golden punches powerful enough to compress the air into explosive shells.
Then came the human comets—two bowl-cut warriors, glowing green as they blitzed into the fray. A golden flash blurred past them, trailed a moment later by a silver-haired figure wielding a single short blade.
The battlefield burned.
Flames roared to life from Fire Release jutsu, channeled in wide arcs that swept through enemy formations.
Wind Release gales whipped up whirlwinds of cutting force. Oil and flame mixed to incinerate whole platoons. A Gundam's massive blade cleaved through a squadron of brutes with mechanical precision.
Initially, the alien invaders faltered.
The Four-Armed Clan had never encountered such a strange, chaotic fighting style. Shinobi warfare was a symphony of misdirection and power, and it caught them off guard.
But these were not simple soldiers.
They had conquered galaxies beside Baal.
The initial confusion gave way to rage—and then retaliation.
Under the barked orders of their commanders, the alien warriors reorganized with terrifying speed. Their movements, once chaotic, now aligned like gears in a war machine.
The tide began to turn.
These monstrous warriors were born in blood, bred for conquest. Towering over three meters, each possessed four arms thick with layered muscle and battle-hardened hide. Their senses were honed from years of slaughter, and their strength easily surpassed human limits.
With brute efficiency, they tore through Konoha's outer formations.
One particularly massive warrior—his obsidian muscles gleaming and his face hidden behind an emotionless mask—rampaged through squads like a living tank. No technique slowed him. Even elite jonin were flattened by his unrelenting advance.
Then—a flash of blue.
A streak of light cut through the air, trailing sparks like falling stars.
MORNING PEACOCK!!
The giant halted mid-charge.
A deep, primal instinct screamed within him—danger.
The blue blur descended like a divine punishment. The air grew dense. Every spark it shed glowed with unnatural brilliance.
With the reflexes of a born killer, the warrior braced and raised his four arms. His immense body tensed as he prepared to meet the blow.
Their fists collided.
One was massive—like a boulder. The other, smaller—like a hammerhead nail.
But it was the smaller fist that smiled.
White teeth gleamed beneath the afternoon sun.
And then—
The sparks detonated.
What had seemed like harmless flares now slammed into the warrior's body with the force of meteorites. Bones snapped. Armor shattered. The giant roared in agony.
He tried to retreat—but the blue figure wouldn't let go.
The warrior thrashed his bulk, muscles straining—yet his opponent held on, tighter than steel, immovable as a mountain.
That blue figure… was Might Duy.
The Blue Beast of Konoha.
The man who once faced the Four-Tails alone and survived.
Elsewhere, Orochimaru faced a very different threat.
Amid the brute chaos, a new presence stepped forward—a figure unlike the rest of Baal's horde.
He was slender. Composed. Elegant.
Barely two meters tall, with an air more befitting royalty than a battlefield, he stood untouched, unbothered. His cloak fluttered behind him like silk in a calm breeze.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed.
No time for pleasantries.
Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!
Dozens of serpents exploded from Orochimaru's sleeves, venom dripping from their fangs, tongues flicking with bloodlust.
But just as they reached the refined enemy—they stopped.
Suspended midair. Motionless.
As if time had frozen.
Orochimaru's pupils contracted.
Psychic force…?
Before he could retreat, his neck twisted and stretched grotesquely, launching the Kusanagi Sword from his throat.
The blade whistled through the air, aimed at the enemy's chest—
It too, halted.
A simple flick of the refined man's wrist—and a stone spear erupted from the earth, piercing Orochimaru through the abdomen and pinning him to the ground.
"Impressive reflexes," the psychic murmured softly.
But the battle wasn't over.
From behind him, a blur of motion and force—a fist, slim but charged with monstrous chakra—barreled toward him.
He turned, eyes widening.
This punch… was different.
It wasn't stopped.
Only slowed.
But it broke through.
Tsunade.
The Slug Princess. The one who had finally overcome her fear, awakened her true strength, and now fought with nothing held back.
Her fist thundered toward his ribs.
With a surge of will, the psychic launched himself backward, the ground folding like a wave beneath his feet to carry him away.
But it was close. Too close.
Tsunade's strike had cracked his defense.
And Orochimaru… was gone.
No, reborn.
A new, damp version of him slithered from his own mouth—disgusting, intact, and grinning.
This was Orochimaru's true strength.
Adaptation.
The elegant man's face twisted with frustration. Killing this one would waste too much time.
Especially now—with a new threat appearing.
A giant fireball roared from the side, forcing him to turn and extinguish it midair.
When the smoke cleared, a figure stood proudly atop a giant toad.
Arms folded, wearing a familiar grin.
Jiraiya.
The Toad Sage.
And with his arrival, the battlefield shook with a deeper, older resonance.
The Legendary Three Sannin—united once more.
Side by side, ready to defend their home.
The war had only just begun.
And the true heart of Konoha now burned brighter than ever.