BOOM—!!!
A meteor-like howl tore the thin night mist apart!
A colossal fist made of pure molten rock, blazing with world-scorching heat and annihilating force, came crashing down from the sky toward the crown of the Fourth Mizukage, Yagura Karatachi!
Even while the fist was still tens of meters from Yagura's head, the crushing heat worked like an invisible furnace, warping the very air on contact. His deep-blue hair curled and singed to yellow at a speed visible to the naked eye, letting out a faint sizzle—ready to burst into flame the next second. The ground at his feet dried, cracked, and charred; puddles around him flashed into blinding white steam.
"Up there… what is that?!"
One Mist Anbu after another couldn't help but look up in shock. In the eyeholes of their masks, that crimson fist kept growing larger.
"That's… wait! That's magma—Lava Release!"
One well-informed Mist Anbu seemed to recall a report and blurted out, voice cracking in panic: "It's the Lava Release beast from Konoha—Uchiha Chizumi!"
"Scatter! Move—now!!"
The threat of death overrode every order with raw survival instinct. Almost simultaneously, every Mist Anbu made the same choice—full retreat!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Dark figures scattered in all directions like startled birds. They didn't spare a glance for the badly wounded comrades who could no longer move. Of course… to most cold-blooded Mist Anbu, those who'd lost mobility were already worthless. In the Blood Mist where the weak are meat, trash has no right to live; their deaths merely save Kirigakure air and resources. If those deaths bought even a tenth of a second for one's own escape, that was their final use.
"Water Style: Wild Water Wave!"
"Water Style: Water Dragon Bullet!"
"Water Style—"
Even as they fell back, the drilled Anbu flew through hand signs on instinct, unleashing the Water jutsu they trusted most to try and check the falling magma fist.
But—
SSZZZAAA!!!
When cold torrents hit the descending magma, the sound was a red-hot ingot plunged into ice water—an ear-splitting shriek. Billows of scalding white steam detonated at once, like a massive steam bomb going off! Yet the torrent that could sweep away an army couldn't slow that falling fist by even a fraction.
It couldn't even quench the dark-red lava rippling over its surface. The extreme heat flash-vaporized every drop it touched. Water Dragons collapsed in an instant; Water Walls shattered like brittle glass. The rising steam instead became a lethal, superheated barrier; a white fog spread fast.
Mist-nin used to hiding in fog now feared this all-too-familiar haze—every droplet in it carried heat enough to cook flesh in an instant. They had no choice but to fall back again in a panic.
The very next second—
RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE—!!!!!!
The magma fist finally slammed, full force, into the earth. An indescribable boom erupted, as if the land itself cried out in pain. Those closest felt needles lance their eardrums and went deaf on the spot; their world shrank to a single, droning ring.
Then came the visible ring-shaped shockwave—magma, shrapnel, steam, and murderous chakra mixed together—roaring out in all directions like a tsunami!
Even Anbu who had fled far were flung like leaves in a gale. Many felt a sudden metallic sweetness midair—blood burst through their masks, painting the insides scarlet.
The hot wind licked their skin, raising blistering burns in an instant. Scalding pain swept over them. The invisible blast raked the ground like a colossal harrow, peeling and flattening layers of earth and leaving ripple-like scars behind.
Farther out, the low houses on the village's edge tore and crumpled like paper toys before the wave, collapsing into a smoking field of rubble.
At ground zero, a gaping pit hundreds of meters across yawned, depth unfathomable. Its rim gleamed with a vitreous sheen where stone had flash-melted and set again.
Dark, viscous lava—hell's bloodstream—crept along the walls and pooled at the bottom, burbling with a menacing glug-glug, belching choking sulfur and rolling black smoke.
It was as if a small volcano had just erupted here.
…
Thud!
With a dull thud, Momochi Zabuza's back slammed into a boulder that had miraculously survived, the impact making his organs feel rearranged.
"Pff—"
A mouthful of hot blood sprayed through his black mask; warmth soaked the inside at once, choking him. He forced a trembling hand up and tore the blood-sodden mask away, revealing a face fierce enough to make a child stop crying on sight.
"Kh… koff…"
He hacked violently; every cough tugged at the burning in his chest, more blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
"Bones… at least seven or eight cracked…"
Gritting his teeth, he clawed his way to his feet on sheer will, every muscle screaming. When he finally took in the scene before him, even those perennially murderous eyes couldn't help but tremble.
"This…"
Nowhere his gaze fell was intact. The world was ruin—earth ravaged like by a rampaging behemoth, scorched black and veined with flowing magma. Even a shinobi born of the Blood Mist like Zabuza felt a chill from the marrow out.
"If I'd been a second slower… there wouldn't be scraps left—just meat paste, vaporized to nothing!"
Zabuza muttered through clenched teeth.
…
On the other side, Biwa Jūzō drew in a sharp breath. He looked down at the big, translucent blisters blooming fast along his arms. The needle-prick jolts of pain kept knitting his brow. His Executioner's Blade was jammed into the ground beside him; even the steel felt warm.
"I warned you—duck out early," came Izumi's voice from behind.
More experienced and far more familiar with Chizumi-senpai's power, she had grabbed Jujirou and bolted long before anyone in the Mist did—earlier and faster than all of them. Now she stood untouched, not even a hem out of place.
Eyeing Jūzō's sorry state, she went on evenly, "When Chizumi-senpai moves, he doesn't play around. He'll rein it in to make sure we don't get killed by spillover—but the aftershocks are still enough to hurt, hard. Let it stick."
Jūzō's mouth twitched, tugging at the scar on his face and drawing a sting. "I dodged as fast as I could… who knew you brats could outrun me."
Perched on Izumi's shoulder, Jujirou lazily licked a paw and undercut him without mercy: "Meow~ You just didn't think you needed to get that far, and the shockwave slapped you anyway, huh? What a disgrace, ex–Seven Ninja Swordsman."
Jūzō: "…"
Getting called out by a fat ninja cat made embarrassment flicker across his face, soon buried under a taut, cold mask. He cut his gaze to the scorched center to force a topic change, voice turning grave.
"But the Fourth Mizukage… that man doesn't die so easily," he said low. "He's the Three-Tails' jinchūriki—damn near perfect."