Tendo Pain, under Nagato's control, stood motionless in the rain.

Yet the chakra around him boiled quietly, a pressure so dense it seemed to warp the air itself. The cold gleam of his Rinnegan deepened, its gaze vast and merciless—as if, at any moment, it could swallow the world whole.

Beside him, the Preta Path stepped forward to shield Konan, intercepting a blazing Fire Release from Jiraiya. The flames hissed into steam upon contact, vanishing into the curtain of rain.

The tempo of the battle had shifted. Jiraiya, though still relentless, was beginning to strain against the mounting pressure. The enemy's coordination, their ceaseless advance, was eroding even his unshakable rhythm.

Nagato's focus slid toward Danzō. Rationality frayed at the edges. Were it not for the delicate nature of Amegakure's terrain—where one large-scale jutsu could flood streets or collapse half the district—he would have long since unleashed his full force to silence the man's audacity.

These great nations…The thought burned in him. They are the root of every tragedy in this world. There can be no reasoning with them.

The rain seemed to still for a heartbeat, the air thick with an unspoken signal.

And then—

The Animal Path's hands blurred through signs. In the mist-laden air, massive summoning circles burst into existence with a thunderous pulse.

Boom.

Boom.

The earth trembled as four enormous shapes leapt forth.

Two Hell Crabs, each the size of a building, charged forward, their monstrous pincers slicing trenches into the flooded street.

A chameleon shimmered and vanished from sight, melting into invisibility as it slithered low across the ground.

Overhead, an Eight-Handed Crow unfurled its immense wings, letting out a screech that split the storm before plunging into a dive.

The enemy's beasts had arrived in force.

Kakashi moved first. His hands flashed through seals, water chakra rising in a swirling haze around him.

"Suiton: Raining Mist."

The battlefield blurred into a dense vapor, the downpour feeding the jutsu until it veiled every movement in shadow. In the next breath, lightning burst alive in his palm—white-blue arcs spiraling into a razor-edged point.

Chidori.

He surged upward, a streak of electric light through the rain. The Hell Crab's pincer met his strike, but the lightning tore through its armored shell with a deafening crack. A spray of shattered carapace erupted, one pincer falling uselessly into the mud as the beast reeled back, bellowing in pain.

The ground quaked as the wounded crab stumbled, fissures spiderwebbing beneath its weight.

Meanwhile, the Asura Path slipped through the haze, its back plates snapping open with mechanical precision. A volley of missiles erupted from its mouth, slicing toward Danzō.

The old warhawk's answer was immediate.

"Fūton: Shinkū Renpa."

Invisible blades of wind intercepted the missiles mid-flight. Explosions rocked the street, but Danzō stood firm, his cloak snapping in the shockwaves.

A shadow shifted at his flank—the chameleon revealing itself mid-strike, its massive tongue whipping forward with terrifying speed.

Danzō sidestepped in a single, exacting movement, his body turning just enough for the strike to pass harmlessly by. His palm slammed to the ground.

"Fūton: Shinkū Rengeki."

Compressed wind bullets spat out in rapid succession, each finding the chameleon's weaker underbelly. With a hissing screech, it lurched backward, its scales split open where the jutsu struck.

It was over in seconds.

The sheer precision of it all—the way he moved, judged distance, delivered counters—was almost surgical. Danzō, who should have been an aging relic of Konoha's wars, fought with the cold efficiency of an active ANBU commander.

Jiraiya caught glimpses of it between his own movements. As his toad familiar intercepted the crow's talons in mid-dive, he narrowed his eyes toward the old man.

"This old guy…"

The reaction speed. The unbroken form. Even the flow of chakra—there was nothing sluggish, nothing dulled by years of injury.

He muttered under his breath, "Certainly nimble… a little too nimble."

Nimble, yes. But what chilled him was the detachment. Every strike Danzō made was stripped of excess motion, every decision executed without hesitation or waste. His expression was calm to the point of lifelessness—an unshakable, repressed coldness that felt more inhuman than disciplined.

And he hadn't even drawn on the Sharingan yet.

Relying solely on wind-style ninjutsu and taijutsu, Danzō was fending off Pain's summons as if it were routine work.

Has he always been this strong?

The thought lingered only for a moment. There was no time for answers now—only the fight.

Kakashi had already shattered one Hell Crab and disrupted the crow's dive. Jiraiya's toad swordsman pinned the massive bird through the chest, grounding it in a spray of black feathers.

The rain-soaked battlefield remained a chaos of crashing water, lightning arcs, and surging chakra. But the killing intent had not diminished—it was building.

Something in the storm had yet to break.

Kakashi landed hard, knees bent, his frame steady despite the force. The long sword in his grip slid free with deliberate slowness.

The blade hadn't yet moved, but the killing intent it carried was already suffocating.

Mist curled around it—water vapor clinging to the edge—catching faint glints of light, like a predator's eye in the fog.

Now, with the Sharingan's precision guiding it, its sharpness was fully unveiled.

Kakashi's gaze hardened. His Sharingan spun faster, locking onto the Deva Path.

And then—

He moved.

A streak of motion in the mist, he cut forward like lightning, the blade tearing the air with a hiss, his speed compressing both space and time as he drove straight for Tendo Pain's chest.

This speed—!

Shinra Tensei!

Pain reacted instantly. His Rinnegan whirled, unleashing a crushing wave of repulsion. The force ripped apart the rain curtain and sent rubble scattering like leaves in a gale.

But he hit nothing.

Kakashi's figure had already vanished—slipping away a heartbeat before the repulsion reached him, as if he had predicted it.

Five seconds.

The cooldown for Shinra Tensei—five seconds where Pain could not defend.

That information surfaced in Kakashi's mind unbidden, sharp and certain, as though whispered from somewhere else.

His body reappeared behind the Deva Path, mist wrapping around him like a cloak.

The blade hovered mid-air, its arc already calculated. His Sharingan locked the angle, every movement pre-set, the strike inevitable.

Mist rose. Steel fell. The sharpness was already there—

But why?

Why did Kakashi know the timing of Shinra Tensei?

Before the strike could land, a shadow cut across the rooftops.

From above, Danzo lunged as well, his darkened wooden sword raised like a killing blow.

"Stop, Kakashi! And Danzo!"

The command ripped through the battlefield like a whip crack.

Jiraiya.

He landed nearby, brow furrowed, the weight of his voice forcing the blade to halt. The mist shivered in the sudden stillness. Pain stood unmoving, expression unreadable, the Rinnegan still tracking Kakashi's every breath.

Then, from the darkness beneath the ruined street, a low voice slithered out.

"Leader, wait."

Black Zetsu emerged, peeling himself from the shadow, his gaze sweeping from the narrow gap between Kakashi and the Deva Path toward the distant direction where Nagato's true body hid.

"We cannot remain tangled with Konoha like this," he said, his tone low but edged with restrained frustration.

Even he hadn't foreseen the situation spiraling into this chaos.

Uchiha Gen's influence had far exceeded his earliest calculations.

"From my deductions," Zetsu continued, "Gen's Mangekyō Sharingan… seems capable of exerting a mental pull over other Uchiha."

His gaze flicked toward Danzo.

"And if that's true, then… Danzo, with so many Uchiha eyes embedded in him, may have been affected as well."

Silence fell.

Even if Zetsu's words were guesswork, the unease they carried slid beneath everyone's skin.

Jiraiya's eyes narrowed. He turned toward Danzo.

The old man's face was the same as always—dark, hard, unpleasant.

But the more Jiraiya looked, the less he saw anything unusual.

He shook his head. "No… this is nothing new. Danzo's been up to shady business since before Gen was even born. If he's acting strange, it's just another Tuesday for him."

Zetsu's smile didn't reach his eyes. Inwardly, he cursed the Sannin for a fool.

He hadn't wanted to reveal too much in front of everyone, but Jiraiya's casual dismissal had reduced his careful misdirection to dust.

How are we supposed to fix this mess now?