The blinding explosion of white light and mist completely swallowed the center of the battlefield.
The massive collision between the spiraling blue chakra sphere and the heavy, crushing tidal wave sent a violent shockwave ripping through the dark forest.
For several long, agonizing seconds, the only sound in the southern camp was the violent hissing of steam.
Tents were torn from their wooden pegs, and thick tree branches snapped loudly under the sheer pressure of the blast.
The Uchiha and Senju fighters scattered on the edges of the camp briefly stopped clashing.
They threw their arms over their faces to shield their eyes from the intense glare and the raining, hot mud.
Then, a heavy pair of boots violently skidded backward through the wet dirt.
Senju Daiki burst out of the boiling mist, digging his heels deep into the earth to stop himself from flying back any further.
His muscular arms were trembling wildly.
The heavy, serrated sword he usually carried on his back was nowhere to be seen—it had been completely ripped out of his hands and shattered into pieces by the grinding pressure of Shinra’s weird blue jutsu.
Daiki coughed violently, spitting a thick glob of mud and blood onto the ground.
His breathing sounded like a broken bellows, wheezing and ragged.
He looked up, his eyes wide and bloodshot, fully expecting to see the Uchiha boy completely crushed into a bloody paste by the massive water pressure.
Instead, the mist slowly parted, blown away by a gentle night breeze.
Shinra walked forward out of the crater.
He wasn’t even panting.
His dark blue high-collared shirt wasn’t torn, just slightly damp from the steam.
He casually brushed a small speck of mud off his shoulder, looking completely and utterly bored.
Thanks to his newly acquired Matured Sage Body, the massive chakra expenditure hadn’t drained him at all.
“Is that it?” Shinra asked, tilting his head.
He let out a loud, exaggerated sigh that echoed across the quiet clearing.
“Man, I was really hoping for a good workout.
Are you sure you are a Senju Jonin?
Or did you just find that green armor in a trash bin somewhere?” Daiki’s face turned bright, tomato red.
The veins on his forehead and neck bulged so hard they looked like they were going to pop right out of his skin.
A twelve-year-old child was standing there, completely uninjured, insulting him in front of his own remaining men!
“You little rat!” Daiki roared, his voice cracking with pure, unadulterated rage.
“You think you’re funny?
You got lucky because my sword broke!” “Oh, right, the sword,” Shinra replied, his voice dripping with heavy, biting sarcasm.
He casually spun a kunai around his index finger.
“Because swinging a giant piece of metal blindly was working so well for you.
Tell you what, old man.
I’ll give you a five-second head start to run away.
Your knees are probably hurting anyway, right?
Arthritis is a real killer on the battlefield.” “I am going to rip your tongue out of your skull!” the Jonin screamed, completely losing whatever tactical temper he had left.
This was exactly what Shinra wanted.
In a real fight, making your enemy angry was the easiest way to make them stupid.
Daiki was a veteran, but his pride was incredibly fragile, especially when being mocked by an Uchiha kid.
Daiki didn’t weave any hand seals this time.
He knew his ninjutsu hadn’t worked against the boy’s strange spinning attack, so he relied entirely on his terrifying Senju physical strength.
He channeled every last drop of his remaining chakra into his legs and charged forward like a wild, rabid bull.
The muddy ground literally cracked and splintered beneath his heavy boots with every step he took.
He raised his right fist, pulling it back to aim a chakra-enhanced punch that could easily shatter a massive boulder.
He aimed it directly at Shinra’s face.
Shinra didn’t move.
He didn’t even drop into a defensive stance.
He just stood there, his hands resting casually at his sides.
He simply opened his eyes a little wider.
“Die, Uchiha!” Daiki yelled, closing the distance in the blink of an eye.
But as the Jonin threw his massive fist forward, his eyes naturally looked at Shinra’s face.
It was an unavoidable human instinct to look at the target you were trying to hit.
For just a fraction of a second, Daiki locked eyes with Shinra.
The three black tomoe in Shinra’s blood-red eyes spun sharply.
Instantly, Daiki felt his entire body turn to stone.
His muscles completely locked up.
His joints went completely stiff.
His massive fist, packed with enough physical strength to crush a skull, stopped moving mere inches away from the tip of Shinra’s nose.
The sheer momentum of his charge was entirely canceled out by his own frozen muscles.
Daiki blinked.
The muddy camp was still there.
The burning tents were still there.
The smell of rain and blood was still thick in the air.
But his body completely refused to obey his commands.
He tried to step forward, but his legs wouldn’t move.
He tried to pull his arm back, but it felt like it was encased in invisible, solid iron.
What…
what is this?!
Daiki panicked, his eyes darting around wildly in his frozen skull.
I can’t move!
“A simple visual hypnotic lock,” Shinra said casually, stepping slightly to the side so Daiki’s frozen fist was no longer pointing at him.
“In this era, your clan and mine are so focused on raw elemental destruction, you forget the basics of the mind.” Daiki tried to roar in anger, but even his vocal cords were completely paralyzed.
He could only let out a muffled, pathetic groan from the back of his throat.
A Genjutsu…
Daiki realized, absolute terror finally washing over his heart.
In this brutal, primitive Warring States era, complex illusions and tricky ninjutsu didn’t really exist yet.
Even the basic, fundamental Academy jutsu—like the Clone, Substitution, or Transformation techniques—hadn’t even been invented by Tobirama Senju yet.
The future Second Hokage was just a child right now.
Ninja in this time period relied on raw speed, raw power, and simple elemental attacks.
Because of this, Shinra didn’t need a fancy, advanced Genjutsu to defeat the Jonin.
He didn’t need a magical realm of red moons or falling crows.
He just used the most basic, simple illusion in the Uchiha arsenal: hijacking the enemy’s nervous system.
Thanks to the system’s massive two-times buff to his illusion powers, Shinra’s basic three-tomoe Sharingan possessed a terrifying, unbreakable grip.
The moment Daiki locked eyes with him, Shinra simply sent a fake signal to the Jonin’s brain, tricking Daiki’s mind into believing his body was completely paralyzed.
Daiki wasn’t physically tied up.
If his brain hadn’t been tricked, he could have moved easily.
But the illusion was so heavy, so perfect, that Daiki’s mind had completely surrendered control of his body.
Shinra walked slowly around the paralyzed Jonin, his red eyes spinning lazily.
He didn’t feel bad about this.
This man had come here to murder a nine-year-old and a seven-year-old child.
In this dark period of history, showing mercy to an assassin was the fastest way to get your own family killed.
Shinra pulled a standard, sharp kunai from his leg pouch.
“You wanted to make my clan heirless,” Shinra whispered coldly into the Jonin’s ear.
“But today, it’s the Senju who lose a Jonin.” With one smooth, effortless motion, Shinra dragged the sharp steel across the Jonin’s throat.
The Genjutsu broke the second the fatal physical pain registered in Daiki’s brain, but it was already too late.
Daiki’s body fell backward into the mud with a heavy, wet thud.
He clutched his neck, choking on his own blood for only a few seconds before his eyes rolled back.
The fearsome Senju Jonin was dead.
Shinra pulled his kunai free with a sharp tug, flicking the blood off the blade with a quick snap of his wrist.
He didn’t bother looking down at the dead man again.
He simply slipped the weapon back into his pouch.
The fight in the center was over, but the camp was still a warzone.
Shinra stood perfectly still at the edge of the crater.
His gaze drifted across the torn battlefield, cutting through the shadows and the lingering smoke.
Near the eastern tree line, the sound of clashing metal and frantic shouting echoed in the night.
Shinra narrowed his eyes, locking onto the fierce struggle taking place.
Madara and Izuna were backed into a corner, fighting desperately alongside a single, surviving Uchiha Chunin guard.
Standing against them was the lone, remaining Senju Elite Chunin.
Shinra didn’t rush forward to help just yet.
He just watched, his three-tomoe Sharingan glowing in the dark, waiting to see exactly how far his younger brothers could be pushed before he stepped in.
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading the chapter!
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