Erza's voice rang across the battlefield, sharp and commanding. The sheer authority in her tone made even Hanzo pause. Both Guy and Antares froze mid-motion, their breathing ragged, sweat dripping down their faces. Hanzo's eyes narrowed, but he too stilled, turning his attention toward the crimson-haired Uzumaki.
"Antares, Guy," Erza called firmly, her gaze unwavering. "Come back. There's no need to fight anymore."
Though both boys looked momentarily confused, they didn't hesitate. Erza was not only their eldest, but also the pillar of their group—their decisions carried the weight of finality. If she called them back, it was because she had a reason. Without a word of protest, the two retreated in a blur of motion, reappearing at Erza's side.
Hanzo made no move to interfere. Instead, he leapt lightly onto the massive head of Ibuse, the salamander's eyes glinting below him. From his elevated perch, Hanzo regarded Erza with a mix of curiosity and disdain.
"So, what now?" Hanzo's voice was cold, but tinged with genuine interest. "Are you going to plead for your lives? If that is the case, abandon the thought. Mercy is something you'll never get from me." His expression hardened, though a faint flicker of respect lingered in his gaze. "Up to this point, the way you've fought has earned a measure of regard from me, as one warrior to another. But if you kneel and beg…" He let the words hang like a blade in the air. "That respect will be gone in an instant."
Erza shook her head slowly, crimson hair swaying with the motion. Her eyes never wavered from Hanzo's, her voice carrying the steadiness of unshakable conviction.
"That is not the case," she said firmly. "Even if we were on the verge of defeat, we would not beg for mercy. If that time came, we would escape—not kneel before you. That much arrogance, that much pride, exists within us. And let me tell you this, Hanzo: if we truly wished to run right now, we could. You wouldn't be able to stop us."
Her words rang with confidence, but there was no boastful edge—only a raw truth she refused to hide.
"But the point is this," she continued, her tone sharpening. "We accepted an assignment: to protect the Daimyō's son of the Land of Hot Water. That duty is ours, and we will not abandon it. To turn our backs now would not only fail him—it would stain the reputation of the Uzumaki clan, a reputation forged by our elder brother, Shanks. Everything we have built together would crumble into nothing."
Her gaze hardened, her voice carrying both defiance and loyalty. "We are his siblings, his younger brothers and sisters. We refuse to bring shame to his name. And yes, even if we escaped this battlefield today, our Onii-chan would never blame us. He would say we did what was necessary. But still… we cannot. We will not. That is final."
For the first time in the battle, silence hung heavy between them. Hanzo's eyes narrowed, studying her.
Finally, his lips curved into the faintest ghost of a smirk. "By the way you speak," he said, voice laced with dark amusement, "it seems you still believe you can defeat me… or worse, that you can actually take the Daimyō's son away under my nose."
Erza's response came without hesitation, her voice carrying the weight of certainty.
"Absolutely—we are confident," she declared. "We overestimated ourselves before, thinking we might hold you back or even defeat you. But after clashing with you, we have faced the cruel truth—you are far stronger than we imagined. The world does not call you one of its strongest without reason. If any one of us had faced you alone, we would have fallen within mere moments. We understand this now."
Her tone sharpened, fiery determination cutting through the battlefield air. "That is why we will no longer hold back. We will use our trump card—the power we saved for this very moment."
Hanzo's eyes narrowed slightly, though a flicker of intrigue glimmered within them. The prospect of the Uzumaki siblings having a hidden technique—or worse, a combined jutsu—was enough to spark his interest. Yet beneath that curiosity, his usual cautious nature sprang into action. He became taut with caution, ready to counter any move, no matter how unexpected.
After speaking, Erza turned sharply to her siblings. One commanding nod from her was met with nine silent nods in return—synchronization born of years of trust and unity. Without another word, she bit into her thumb, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth, and slammed her palm against the earth.
"Summoning Jutsu!" she roared.
The ground trembled violently. From the point of contact, black lines snaked outward in jagged patterns, weaving across the battlefield like cracks in the earth itself. Within moments, the lines connected, forming a vast, intricate summoning circle.
Erza leapt back with practiced precision, retreating beyond the circle's radius. Her siblings mirrored her movements instantly.
Hanzo instantly grew cautious, his gaze sharpening. He had not expected Erza to use a summoning jutsu. The black seal spread across the ground, its ominous lines hinting at something more than a mere creature. So… this is their trump card? he thought. If Erza dared to use it here, then whatever—or whoever—was being summoned must be formidable enough that she believed even he, Hanzo of the Salamander, could be threatened.
A thick cloud of white smoke erupted from the circle, billowing outward and shrouding the battlefield in an opaque veil. Vision vanished; the only sound was the hiss of smoke rolling across the wet earth.
Within that haze, a pair of eyes opened—calm, sharp, and mercilessly aware.
Shanks.
The instant his gaze flicked across the battlefield, his Observation Haki expanded like an unseen tide. Every heartbeat, every ragged breath of his clan siblings reached him in perfect clarity. He felt their exhaustion, their pain, and their determination. His jaw clenched.
Rage stirred in his chest. A storm answered.
With a sharp exhale, Shanks released his Conqueror's Haki.
The battlefield itself seemed to shudder. The dense smoke burst outward as if blown away by a gale, revealing his tall, commanding figure at the centre of the summoning circle. The pressure of his aura rippled outward in waves, an invisible storm that bent trees, rattled the very air, and forced the falling rain to halt mid-descent before splashing on the ground. For several heartbeats, time itself felt suspended within the radius of his will.
Ibuse, Hanzo's giant salamander, flinched under the crushing weight of the aura. Even Hanzo, hardened by decades of war, widened his eyes in alarm.
"Such powerful… aura," Hanzo muttered, his voice low and wary.
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