The silence that followed the retreat of the Sand forces was heavier than the battle itself. The desert wind, usually howling, seemed to hold its breath as the dust settled over the blood-soaked dunes.
White Fang stood atop a small rise, his face grim. The victory had been decisive—the Third Kazekage had been forced back—but the cost was staggering. The report came in quickly from his lieutenants.
"One hundred and fifty confirmed dead," an exhausted Chunin reported, his flak jacket torn. "Three hundred injured. Many critical."
Sakumo Hatake closed his eyes for a brief second, then snapped them open, his gaze sharp and commanding. "We don't have time to grieve yet. Seal the bodies of the deceased in storage scrolls immediately. We cannot leave them behind. Give emergency treatment to the injured—stabilize them—and prepare for transport to the main camp."
"Sir," a medical ninja hesitated, "we… we are critically short on medics. The poison specialists are overwhelmed."
Sakumo looked toward the triage area. He saw Ren's mother. Despite her own injuries—a nasty gash on her shoulder and exhaustion etched into her face—she was moving. She wove a hand seal.
Shadow Clone Jutsu.
Three identical copies of the retired Chunin appeared. They immediately knelt beside injured comrades, applying mystic palm energy. She was burning her candle at both ends to save lives.
Ren saw this too. He gritted his teeth, the fatigue from his duel with the Kazekage pressing on his mind, but the sight of his mother pushing past her limits ignited a fresh reserve of will.
"I'm not done yet," Ren muttered.
He stepped forward, his chakra flaring. His mother looked up, eyes widening in warning, but Ren was already weaving signs.
"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
Poof! Poof! Poof!
Fifteen clones erupted into existence around him. They didn't wait for orders; they immediately scattered to the most critical patients, retrieving bandages and antidotes from their pouches.
Sakumo paused, staring at the boy. 'He just fought the strongest Kazekage in history to a standstill, expended massive amounts of chakra, and he can still produce fifteen solid clones? His reserves rival a a kage.'
There was no time to compliment him. Sakumo turned to his elites. "I'm taking the uninjured and the Uchiha detachment. We need to support the Iwa front immediately before they realize we're split. Ren, assist with the transport."
"Understood," the real Ren nodded, already bandaging a fellow Genin.
Sakumo moved fast. The desert terrain blurred as he led his squad toward the rocky border where the Iwa forces were encroaching.
"Commander!" A Hyuga scout active in the vanguard signaled urgently. "Two o'clock. Explosive tags detonated. I see chakra signatures… Konoha Genin and Chunin engaging Iwa Chunin!"
"Kids?" Sakumo frowned. "Let's move!"
They descended upon the skirmish like a lightning storm. The White Fang lived up to his name; in three seconds, the Iwa ninja were cut down, falling before they even realized death had arrived.
But Sakumo didn't sheathe his blade in triumph. He smelled burnt flesh.
"Check the perimeter!"
Sakumo walked toward a crater formed by a chain explosion. Lying in a pool of blood, his flak jacket shredded and body ravaged by the blast, was a young boy with light brown hair.
"Nawaki…" Sakumo whispered, kneeling instantly.
A surviving Chunin, one of the Senju retainers, crawled over, weeping. "He… he insisted, Lord Sakumo. He said he wanted to help his sister. He wanted to prove he was ready. We were ambushed… he stepped on a trap meant for us."
Nawaki was barely breathing, his pulse thready. The damage was catastrophic.
Sakumo turned to his fastest subordinate. "Carry him. Gentle Fist users, stabilize his heart if it stops. Get him to the camp now."
"What about you, sir?"
"I'm going to find Tsunade," Sakumo said, his voice cold with resolve. " Go!"
Meanwhile, the convoy of injured was making its slow, painful way back to the main encampment.
Ren walked alongside a stretcher, his mind racing. The fifteen clones he had made earlier had popped from exhaustion once they stabilized the first wave of patients. He was running on fumes, but the sight of the overwhelmed medical unit gnawed at him.
'I have the chakra control. I have the knowledge. But I lack the volume,' Ren analyzed. 'My human reserves are finite.'
He looked at the air around him. To his spiritual senses, the desert was alive with Natural Energy.
'Technically, I can control Natural Energy to release ninjutsu. But I can't create a Shadow Clone using pure Nature Energy. It lacks the physical anchor—the Yin-Yang substance of spiritual and physical energy.'
He closed his eyes, walking on auto-pilot.
'But what if I don't use pure chakra? What if I use my chakra as a binding agent?'
Ren opened his left eye. The world shifted into a grid of energy. He began to draw in the Natural Energy, not letting it overwhelm him, but holding it in his coil. He introduced his own chakra into the mix.
He watched the reaction closely.
If he used too much Nature Energy, the clone would turn to stone or explode. If he used too much chakra, it was inefficient.
'Analyze ratio.'
His eye spun. He found the equilibrium.
1 : 10.
For every one unit of his own chakra, he could bind ten units of Natural Energy to it without destabilizing the structure.
'This is it,' Ren realized, a spark of excitement cutting through his exhaustion. 'With this ratio, my effective chakra pool increases eleven-fold. And because my mental power is from another world—far superior to a normal human—I can ignore the memory feedback tide that usually knocks people out when mass clones dispel.'
The camp walls came into view. It was chaos inside. Moans of pain echoed from the tents. Medical ninjas were running back and forth, their hands shaking from chakra depletion.
Ren stepped into the center of the clearing. He took a deep breath, absorbing the ambient energy of the earth and wind, mixing it with the dregs of his own stamina.
He formed the cross seal.
"Multi-Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
POOF!
The clearing was instantly filled with white smoke. When it cleared, sixty identical Rens stood in formation.
The camp went silent. Even the injured stopped groaning in sheer shock.
"Spread out!" the sixty Rens shouted in unison.
They moved with military precision. The clones rushed to the tents. Ren's hands glowed with the Mystic Palm technique, but unlike the usual pale green, this chakra had a deeper, more vibrant emerald hue—enhanced by Nature Energy.
The healing was faster. More potent.
The original Ren walked over to his mother, who was leaning against a supply crate, her face pale, about to collapse.
"Ren?" she whispered, staring at the army of clones working around her. "How…?"
"Rest, Mom," Ren said gently, guiding her to a cot. "I've got this."
He turned to the other exhausted medics. "Anyone below thirty percent chakra, stand down. My clones will take over your shifts."
It was a scene that would be etched into the memory of every Konoha ninja present. A single Ninja, creating a battalion of medical clones, stabilizing an entire field hospital single-handedly. The fear in their eyes was replaced by awe. Ren Uchiha wasn't just a prodigy anymore; he was a savior. His status in their minds rocketed to a height reserved for legends like the Sannin.
Ren wiped sweat from his forehead. The mental strain was there, but it was manageable. He was stabilizing the situation.
"CLEAR THE WAY!"
A desperate shout shattered the atmosphere.
Ren turned toward the camp entrance. A team of ninjas burst through, carrying a stretcher with frantic urgency. The ninja carrying the front was covered in blood that wasn't his own.
"We need a medic! Immediate critical care! It's Nawaki Senju!"
Ren's eyes narrowed as he saw the boy on the stretcher, his chest a ruin of burns and shrapnel. The gravity of the war had just landed right at his feet.