Seeing that their cover was moments from being blown, Minato moved first.
In a blink, he closed the distance and drove his kunai clean across the throat of the suspicious Iwa ANBU. The man didn't even have time to register shock—his eyes froze wide as a clean spray of blood arced into the misty dawn, dark and soundless.
The corpse crumpled without a sound.
But no matter how fast he was, even Minato Namikaze couldn't silence death in the middle of a hostile encampment without consequence.
A sharp cry rang out instantly, tearing through the camp like a kunai shrieking through the fog.
"Intruders!!"
And just like that, their operation had entered its next phase.
"Our cover is blown anyway. Detonate the explosive tags," Minato ordered, his voice like a cold wind cutting through stone.
Explosions ripped through the enemy camp. Hidden seals embedded in key positions erupted in a violent chain reaction. Tents and storage huts were torn apart; crates shattered, supply wagons flipped into the air like toys. Smoke and fire surged outward, casting chaotic shadows across the terrified faces of Iwagakure's shinobi.
Minato's voice rang out again—calm, measured, lethal.
"Fast—we enter the tent and kill all the targets. Then proceed to eliminate any remaining commanders. Avoid fighting regular troops—they'll only waste your time."
Without hesitation, the seven Konoha operatives vanished into the smoke, streaking toward the heart of the camp like living shuriken—aimed, silent, and deadly.
The Command Tent
Minato burst through the main flap of the war council tent.
Inside, two enemy commanders had just risen from their table, their attention pulled toward the outside chaos. They had no time to react—just a flash of blonde and a pressure shift in the air.
Whirrrrr—CRACK!
A blazing Rasengan slammed into the chest of the first commander. The force crushed his ribs, tore through his armor, and hurled him into a rack of scrolls that splintered into dust.
The second commander spun toward the tent exit, likely intending to rally backup.
He never made it.
Minato disappeared in a flicker of yellow light—then reappeared behind him in perfect silence. One clean slash to the throat, and the man collapsed without a sound.
But the mission had only begun.
From the rear of the tent, five Iwa commanders stormed in—veterans by the look of them, clad in stone-hardened armor, each wielding brutal weapons shaped by Earth Release. At their flanks, six ANBU appeared—faces hidden behind snarling animal masks, chakra flaring with deadly intent.
"Konoha rats…" one of the commanders spat, voice low and venomous. "You'll die here."
Minato's response was razor-sharp.
"Split up! Do it fast!"
The tent exploded into chaos.
A Konoha ANBU with lightning-etched blades clashed with an ox-masked Iwa ANBU. Their strikes collided with bursts of light, and sparks flew as metal met metal in a flurry of lethal precision. Each movement was tight, disciplined—no wasted energy, only efficiency honed through blood.
Elsewhere, a flame-slinging Konoha operative faced off against the serpent-mask. Fireballs roared through the smoke, clashing with pressurized water bullets that carved through the tent like cannon shots. Steam hissed from every collision as their elemental warfare tore apart the interior.
Another Konoha shinobi moved like a ghost through the smoke, evading blows from a dragon-masked ANBU and two incoming Iwa jonin. He parried a blade with his forearm, twisted around the follow-up strike, and buried a kunai deep into one attacker's ribs—only to be caught moments later by a lightning-infused kick that sent him crashing into a broken beam.
The air filled with smoke, flames, and screams.
Iwa reinforcements arrived—chunin and jonin, some bleeding, others still half-asleep, but all ready to defend their commanders. Within minutes, each Konoha ANBU was fighting not just one elite, but at least four enemies at once.
The battle descended into pure chaos.
One ANBU broke a boar-masked opponent's guard with a brutal shoulder strike—only to be swarmed by three Iwa shinobi seconds later. Another dragged himself across the ground with a shattered leg, clutching an explosive tag in one hand and a kunai in the other, detonating both as he was swarmed.
The floor ran red with blood. The stone tent sagged, scorched and crumbling.
Minato weaved between enemies like a flash of lightning, striking before the eye could follow
A commander lunged at him with a giant stone war-axe—Minato vanished mid-swing, reappearing behind him and striking with a Flying Thunder God Slash. Another hurled a barrage of stone spikes from the ground—Minato countered with a spinning Rasengan, sending the debris flying backward before teleporting behind the caster.
Slice. Gone.
Another charged, screaming through clenched teeth. Minato didn't hesitate—he tossed a tri-pronged kunai, vanished in the same breath, and reappeared behind the man, burying a kunai into his neck in a single, fluid motion.
Flash.Flash.Flash.
One by one, the commanders fell. Their strength and experience meant little against the Yellow Flash once he was in motion.
He fought with brutal efficiency—no wasted strikes, no theatrics. Every movement was purposeful. Every death precise.
And yet, he could feel the weight growing.
For every commander he felled, another Konoha shinobi fell behind him.
The war tent was nearly gone—burning on one side, torn apart on the other.
By the time the dust began to settle, only two remained standing amid the blood and ruin.
Minato Namikaze—wounded, but upright, breath steady, eyes hard as flint.
And the Konoha ANBU team leader—his mask cracked, blood dripping from his shoulder, but his sword still clutched in a shaking hand.
All six Iwa commanders lay dead.
The six Iwa ANBU lay scattered and broken, masks shattered, faces frozen in pain or defiance.
The bodies of nearly thirty Iwa shinobi littered the ground—jonin, chunin, even medics caught in the crossfire.
And around them—five lifeless forms. The fallen members of their own unit. Konoha's best.
Minato didn't speak. He simply turned toward the last man standing beside him.
The ANBU nodded in silence.
The two remaining Konoha shinobi vanished into the mist before any more ninja came to fight them, leaving only the scent of ash, the crackle of fire, and the echoes of a slaughter that would shake the Land of Earth for years to come.