CHAPTER 151: GRAVITY'S EMBRACE
"Gravity Fruit!"
"It's actually that one!"
A spark of genuine, fierce triumph lit in Ragnar's weary eyes. This made the entire brutal ordeal worth the price.
The Zushi Zushi no Mi—the power wielded by Fujitora, "Purple Tiger," one of the three Admirals who had risen to command the Marines in the wake of an era's end. A man who had entered the world stage through conscription, with no prior fame, yet whose every action thereafter reshaped the landscape. A quiet, ruthless pragmatist who dealt with Warlords, supernovas, and revolutionaries with the same implacable force. A swordsman whose blade was secondary to the cosmic power he commanded.
The Gravity Fruit. The name said it all. Mastery over the fundamental force that bound the universe. Gravity waves. The manipulation of weight, direction, and attraction. It encompassed increased gravity, null gravity, reverse gravity, crushing pressure, irresistible pull, powerful repulsion. It was, for all intents and purposes, control over one of the universe's foundational forces. In its full development, it was a power that bordered on the divine.
In a sense, Ragnar mused, a cold smile touching his lips, this is akin to the Deva Path of the Rinnegan, but potentially more versatile, more fundamental. This… changes everything.
The Gravity Fruit represented a qualitative leap, a step towards a tier of power that truly began to transcend the conventional boundaries of the shinobi world.
However, his body was a drained vessel, his mind frayed. He would not ingest the fruit now. Timing was crucial. He needed to be at his peak to assimilate such a power.
As he rested, he willed his system interface to life, assessing the full scope of his gains.
[Host: Ragnar]
[Abilities: Conqueror's Haki Lv.3, Observation Haki Lv.4, Armament Haki Lv.4, Moon Walk (Geppo) Lv.3, Shave (Soru) Lv.3 | Next Level: 10,000 EXP]
[Skills: Tornado Comprehension, Two-Sword Style: 36-Pound Phoenix, Two-Sword Style: 72-Pound Phoenix, Ittoryu – Iai: Shishi Sonson (Lion's Song)]
[Devil Fruits: Mera Mera no Mi Lv.5 (Awakened), Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Daibutsu Lv.4 | Next Level: 100,000 EXP]
[Weapon: Yama (Demon Blade)]
[Experience: 86,000 / 100,000]
Ragnar's eyebrows rose slightly. He had spent 50,000 EXP to Awaken the Burn-Burn Fruit, emptying his reserves. Now, after a single afternoon of industrialized slaughter, he had not only recouped that loss but amassed enough to fuel another major evolution. The harvest was staggering.
If not for the deep, bone-aching exhaustion, he would have consumed the fruit and allocated the EXP immediately.
Pushing the tantalizing thoughts aside, he closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. His enhanced physiology, fueled by the Daibutsu's passive benefits and his own iron will, began the rapid, silent work of repair.
Meanwhile, in the wake of the catastrophic defeat, the Iwa forces had retreated completely from the Rain front. Tsuchikage's Assistant, Onihira, stood in the Tsuchikage's office, the weight of failure a physical pressure on his shoulders.
The Third Tsuchikage, Ōnoki, sat behind his desk, his face a stony mask. The oppressive atmosphere in the room felt as dense as the rock Iwagakure was carved from.
Onihira had returned directly to the village. With the first wave of Iwa's frontal assault force virtually annihilated, there was no point in remaining. More importantly, he had to face Ōnoki. To deliver the report, to accept responsibility. Even if the Tsuchikage ordered seppuku, he would comply without hesitation.
"…According to Elder Chiyo's analysis," Onihira reported, his voice flat, "the Konoha genin, 'Ragnar,' is almost certainly the ANBU operative known as 'Rakshasa.' Several of the abilities displayed match previous intelligence. But he possesses… others. The summoning of a colossal golden Buddha. A power against which even jonin were utterly helpless. It was… indiscriminate."
As he spoke, a shadow of the terror he'd felt passed through his eyes.
"Hmph." Ōnoki let out a long, weary sigh. "I truly did not anticipate that 'Rakshasa' would grow into a problem of this magnitude. First the White Fang, now this… shadow."
He wasn't shouting. There was no blistering rage. Instead, a heavy sense of failure settled in the room—the failure of intelligence, of preparation. He couldn't lay all the blame at Onihira's feet. To lose nearly a thousand shinobi, an entire strike force… it was a village-scale tragedy. Losing his right-hand man as well would only compound the disaster.
But the gall of Konoha! To classify a Kage-level weapon as a genin? It was like releasing a tiger among sheep. Had they known, their entire strategy would have been different.
A thought struck Ōnoki, his brow furrowing. "This 'Buddha' he summoned… was it Wood Release? Like the Shodai Hokage's?"
Ōnoki was of the generation that had witnessed Senju Hashirama's reign. He'd been a young apprentice at the first Five Kage Summit, watching the legendary "God of Shinobi"—a man whose personality seemed at odds with his title, yet whose power was unquestionably divine. The image of Hashirama's Thousand-Armed Wooden Buddha was seared into his memory, a symbol of unstoppable force.
"No, Tsuchikage-sama," Onihira shook his head. "This Buddha was forged from what seemed like solid, shining gold. Sixty meters tall. Impervious to standard ninjutsu. Its physical power was… apocalyptic."
"Good. That is… good." A subtle tension left Ōnoki's shoulders. At least it is not Hashirama's ghost returned. He harbored no illusions; facing the true Wood Release Buddha, even at his current peak, would be a fight with a preordained, dismal outcome.
Onihira didn't understand his leader's specific concern, but he pressed on. "The scale of the destruction… it didn't feel human. It was more like… the wrath of a Tailed Beast."
Ōnoki slowly floated up from his chair, drifting to the window that looked out over his stony village. "Precisely," he murmured. "No single shinobi, no matter the bloodline, should be capable of such wholesale slaughter. Unless… they are not merely a shinobi." He turned, his eyes sharp. "Konoha has played us for fools from the start. This 'Ragnar' or 'Rakshasa'… perhaps he is not a man at all, but a weapon. A living, breathing war-machine they've cultivated, and they threw him onto the field disguised as a child to break our spirit."
The paranoia of a wartime leader wove the narrative. The Third Hokage, Danzo… in Ōnoki's view, they were masters of deceit. This entire war was a testament to their cunning. Iwa and Suna had been manipulated, drawn into a trap.
"Tsuchikage-sama," Onihira asked, the central question finally voiced. "What is our course?"
Ōnoki's gaze hardened, turning from the window back to his subordinate. "If Konoha discards honor, so do we. They wish to deploy monsters? We have monsters of our own." His voice dropped, cold and decisive. "The Tailed Beasts are the ultimate natural weapons. Iwagakure is the guardian of two. We will answer their golden demon with the rage of a bijū."
The irony was not lost on him. The beasts had been gifts from the idealistic First Hokage, given in a vain hope for balanced deterrence. Now, they would be unleashed to wage war against the very village that had given them away. The cycle was perfectly, bitterly absurd.
(End of Chapter)
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