Hidden deep within the grass overlooking the valley, Ethan Vale had long since exhausted every possible distraction.
He’d counted breaths.
Tracked wind currents.
Memorized the positions of visible stars between breaks in the clouds.
Now he was reduced to staring at darkness while storm clouds rolled overhead in heavy layers, swallowing the moon again and again.
Then, the instant the moon vanished for the third time— his Observation Haki exploded outward on instinct.
Two presences entered his perception simultaneously.
Vast.
Ancient.
Overwhelming beyond comprehension.
The sensation hit Ethan like plunging bare-handed into an ocean trench.
His scalp went numb.
Every nerve in his body screamed warning.
Before Observation Haki could fully lock onto them, Ethan forcibly shut it down.
Even so, cold sweat had already formed along his spine.
Beside him, Tobirama’s voice cut through the darkness.
“They’re here.” Quiet words.
Yet Ethan’s heartbeat immediately accelerated.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head above the grass.
And finally saw them.
Hashirama Senju.
Madara Uchiha.
The two men stood on opposite sides of the narrow river threading through the valley, facing one another in absolute silence.
No armies.
No banners.
No witnesses beyond Ethan and Tobirama hidden in the distance.
Only two figures who had dragged the entire Shinobi World into their orbit.
The wind faded.
Even the forest seemed unwilling to breathe.
“Madara.” Hashirama’s voice echoed through the valley walls, deep and steady.
“Surrender.
We can still end this war together.” His expression carried neither mockery nor triumph.
Only exhaustion.
“You and I can create a world where children don’t die for clan pride anymore.” Madara watched him quietly.
For a moment, something flickered behind his eyes.
Not hatred.
Not rage.
Something older.
Something tired.
Then he gave a faint shake of his head.
“You really never change, Hashirama.” There was bitterness in his voice.
And beneath it— reluctant admiration.
“Sometimes…” Madara said softly, “I envy that.” His gaze sharpened abruptly.
“Izuna.
What did you do to him?” “He’s alive,” Hashirama answered immediately.
The change in Madara’s expression was almost imperceptible.
But Ethan saw it.
Relief.
A single breath of it.
Then the Uchiha leader buried the emotion beneath layers of cold resolve.
“Good.” Madara rolled one shoulder slowly.
Dark chakra began pouring from him like smoke leaking from a cracked furnace.
“You want peace?” he asked.
“Then prove your ideals with strength.” Hashirama closed his eyes.
For a brief instant, the valley became perfectly still.
When he opened them again— the warmth was gone.
The hesitation was gone.
The man standing there was no longer simply Hashirama Senju.
He was the God of Shinobi.
“Then come.” The valley detonated.
Both figures vanished simultaneously.
A thunderous impact erupted from the center of the river as they collided head-on, rupturing the earth beneath their feet.
Water blasted skyward.
Shockwaves tore across the canyon.
Ethan’s pupils contracted violently.
Fast.
Too fast.
The battle surpassed everything he had imagined.
There were no wasted movements.
No meaningless exchanges.
No dramatic pauses.
Only pure combat stripped down to its most lethal form.
Madara and Hashirama tore across the battlefield in blinding bursts of motion, their taijutsu alone powerful enough to fracture cliffs and pulverize stone beneath the aftershock of each collision.
Ninjutsu appeared only between exchanges.
A flash of fire.
A surge of wood.
A wave of shattered terrain.
Every technique emerged with terrifying speed—either formed with minimal hand seals or none at all.
Anything slower would be fatal.
And in that instant, Ethan understood something fundamental.
At the highest level, combat became simpler.
Not because techniques were lacking— but because everything unnecessary had already been discarded.
Every movement existed solely for efficiency.
The battlefield itself became part of the weapon system.
Madara inhaled sharply.
A massive inferno erupted from his mouth, sweeping through the valley like a tidal wave of destruction.
Hashirama answered instantly.
Towering roots exploded upward from the earth, intercepting the flames head-on.
Steam detonated across the canyon.
Then both men disappeared again.
Ethan tried to follow.
At first, he managed.
His enhanced physique, sharpened instincts, and Observation Haki-trained perception let him grasp fragments of movement ordinary shinobi would never even perceive.
A kick.
A block.
A shift in footing before a devastating counterattack.
But the longer the battle continued, the more impossible it became.
Eventually, even Ethan’s eyes failed him.
All he could see were blurred afterimages tearing across the valley faster than sound itself.
Beside him, Tobirama noticed immediately.
“Don’t force it,” he said calmly.
“Without the Sharingan or Byakugan, very few people can properly observe combat at this level.” Even so, Ethan caught the faint trace of approval in his tone.
“The fact you lasted this long already says enough.” The battlefield continued collapsing beneath the clash of monsters.
Entire sections of cliffside shattered apart.
Trees vanished in expanding shockwaves.
The river had long since ceased resembling a river.
The valley looked like it was being erased piece by piece.
Ethan stared at the devastation, pulse hammering in his ears.
This wasn’t battle anymore.
It was catastrophe wearing human skin.
Then— Tobirama’s hand seized his shoulder.
“Move.” The world blurred.
Flying Thunder God.
Space twisted for a fraction of a second before Ethan reappeared hundreds of meters away beside Tobirama atop another cliffside.
A heartbeat later— an enormous fireball slammed directly into their previous location.
The explosion swallowed the entire ridge instantly.
Flames roared into the night sky.
Stone liquefied.
The shockwave alone split the surrounding terrain apart.
Ethan turned toward the impact zone and felt cold sweat crawl down his back.
Nothing remained.
No grass.
No cliff.
No earth.
Only burning ruin and molten rock.
If Tobirama had reacted even slightly later, Ethan would have ceased to exist.
Tobirama folded his arms calmly.
“See that?” His eyes remained fixed on the battlefield.
“The same technique becomes something entirely different depending on who uses it.” Ethan nearly laughed from disbelief.
That had been a Great Fireball Technique?
That thing looked closer to a natural disaster.
And somehow Tobirama still turned it into a lecture.
“You learn too quickly,” Tobirama continued.
“That’s both your greatest strength and your greatest flaw.” His tone sharpened slightly.
“You understand things easily, so naturally you want to learn everything.” His red eyes reflected distant explosions across the valley.
“And most people who attempt that become mediocre at all of it.” Ethan remained silent.
Under normal circumstances, Tobirama would have been absolutely correct.
But Ethan wasn’t bound by normal limitations.
The Infinite Worlds changed the equation entirely.
One counterpart specialized in physical combat.
Another in chakra control.
Another would someday walk the path of magic.
Different systems.
Different perspectives.
Different forms of growth.
Each version of Ethan carried part of the burden, allowing the whole to evolve beyond what should have been possible.
What crushed ordinary geniuses only accelerated his development further.
Then the clouds finally shifted.
Moonlight flooded the ruined valley below.
And the earth began to tremble.
Ethan looked up— and froze.
A colossal wooden giant erupted from the valley floor.
The construct towered over the battlefield like an ancient deity rising from forgotten myth, its sheer scale blotting out the moon itself.
Wood Release: Wood Golem.
Standing atop its shoulder, Hashirama’s expression had become utterly cold.
The battle had entered its final stage.
No more restraint.
No more testing.
From this point onward, every attack would decide victory or death.
The Wood Golem took a single step forward.
The entire valley shook.
Across from it, Madara formed hand seals.
The tomoe of his Mangekyo Sharingan spun violently.
Then chakra exploded from his body.
Blue flames ignited across empty air.
A skeletal giant emerged first.
Then muscle.
Armor.
Four massive arms formed around the towering warrior, each gripping colossal chakra blades.
The completed Susanoo stood before the Wood Golem like a divine weapon forged solely for destruction.
Even Ethan forgot to breathe.
So this… This was the true power of legends.
Madara moved first.
The Susanoo’s blade descended.
The strike screamed through the air with enough force to split mountains.
Hashirama’s Wood Golem caught it barehanded.
The colossal wooden hand tightened around the chakra blade with crushing force before violently dragging the Susanoo forward— and driving a devastating punch directly into its chest.
The impact detonated across the valley.
Shockwaves erupted in every direction as the two gigantic constructs exchanged blows powerful enough to reshape the landscape itself.
Ethan’s blood surged violently with adrenaline.
This was no longer shinobi combat.
It was giant manifestation warfare.
Battlefield Catastrophe Principle taken to its absolute extreme.
Beside him, Tobirama spoke again.
“Brother has already won.” His voice remained calm.
Analytical.
“Madara doesn’t have enough chakra left to sustain the Susanoo much longer.” Ethan narrowed his eyes.
Now that he focused carefully, he could see the signs too.
The Susanoo had slowed.
Its reactions were no longer as sharp.
Earlier in the battle, Madara had already accumulated too much damage—and unlike Hashirama, he lacked the monstrous vitality needed to endure prolonged attrition.
Hashirama’s stamina bordered on absurd.
Madara, meanwhile, had burned nearly everything remaining just to force the Susanoo into existence.
He was reaching the Chakra Exhaustion Threshold.
Tobirama exhaled quietly.
“There’s irony in this.” His gaze never left the battlefield.
“Madara’s condition right now…” A final collision thundered through the valley.
“…is exactly like the Uchiha clan itself.” The Susanoo cracked.
Blue fractures spread across its armored body.
Then, beneath Hashirama’s relentless pressure— the towering construct shattered apart into an explosion of fading azure light.