Land of Rain.
The rain fell like scattered mist, as if this nation were forever immersed in water—much like a person perpetually steeped in sorrow. Even the outskirts of the Land of Rain could not escape this downpour.
Three years of unrelenting war.
Even Orochimaru's face bore traces of exhaustion. According to intelligence from the village, the battlefronts against the Hidden Stone, Hidden Mist, and Hidden Sand had all grown weary after three years of conflict.
The Hidden Stone front, led by Jiraiya, boasted the largest numbers and the strongest defenses. Though the Hidden Stone relied on sheer numbers, elite shinobi could still bridge the gap. Jiraiya's strength was not to be underestimated. Orochimaru refused to believe that his own growth over these years had left Jiraiya stagnant. Despite being the "dead last," Orochimaru couldn't guarantee victory against him.
The Hidden Stone couldn't break through. Even scattered skirmishers within the Land of Fire caused little disruption, as recovered village ninjas systematically eliminated them.
On the Hidden Mist front, the Uchiha clan proved formidable, preventing the Mist ninjas from advancing even an inch—despite their countermeasures against the Sharingan.
As for the Hidden Sand, their forces had already been significantly weakened by the White Fang. Now, maintaining the battlefront had become the most arduous task for the other villages.
Orochimaru's gaze met Hanzo's across the rain-soaked battlefield, where Rain ninjas fought desperately, their faces devoid of hope, as if death were their only destiny. In contrast, the Konoha forces fought cautiously, their hopes pinned on a lone green figure darting across the battlefield.
"Lord Dai," Orochimaru murmured, licking his lips as he watched the green-clad figure.
The pervasive purple poison mist was particularly harsh on taijutsu specialists like Might Dai. Soon, Dai's face turned pale, forcing him to retreat alongside several other Konoha ninjas. Hanzo's poison wasn't easily countered—even antidotes crafted by Tsunade had their limits.
Might Dai, on the verge of collapse, was quickly carried off for treatment. But Orochimaru disapproved of Dai's actions.
Hanzo, observing from afar, locked eyes with Orochimaru. This assault had failed to push Konoha back.
"Retreat!" His command echoed across the battlefield, and the Rain ninjas swiftly withdrew.
"What a terrifying man, Hanzo," Orochimaro mused, scanning the field. Few Rain ninja corpses remained—most had been rigged with explosive tags, ensuring their deaths also dealt heavy blows to Konoha.
Even with Orochimaru's current prestige, he couldn't command such willing sacrifice. And how many ninjas did the Hidden Rain even have left? After this battle, it was unclear whether the village would survive. This was a small village exhausting itself to resist the entire shinobi world—a display of power that shocked the Five Great Nations, though their mutual deterrence played a role. Still, this minor village had taught them a lesson.
"Lord Orochimaru, we've repelled the Rain forces," a weary Konoha ninja reported, kneeling in the rain.
Three years of war had taken their toll. Preliminary estimates placed Konoha's losses at a third of its forces, with the greatest casualties among the newest and oldest generations. The war had consumed many veterans who survived the First War, and the current generation—Uchiha Kin's peers—numbered fewer than twenty, barely enough to fill a single class. The next generation fared even worse, serving as little more than cannon fodder.
Only the mid-tier ninjas, though suffering heavy losses, fared better than the elders and children.
"Life is so fragile," Orochimaru remarked, his gaze distant. The reporting ninja bowed his head, offering no reply. What he truly wanted to say was: Isn't it all because of this brutal war?
"Let's fall back," Orochimaru ordered, turning away. "Next, we launch our full assault."
He had grown impatient. Rather than watching lives dwindle slowly, he preferred to stack them high for victory. The war was changing Orochimaru, molding him into the figure he would become.
His first stop was the medical tent—a large, makeshift shelter filled with the groans of the wounded. Amputees lay listlessly, their eyes vacant. Only Might Dai, hooked to an IV, was doing one-armed push-ups.
Orochimaru found himself at a loss for words.
Might Dai was even more absurd than Jiraiya.
Order him to charge? He'd rescue comrades first.
Tell him to avoid fighting in the poison mist? He'd dive in to save others.
And he'd always say:
"Saving all my comrades is my youth!"
Before every battle with Hanzo, he'd declare:
"Now is the time for Might Dai to dedicate his youth!"
If not for Orochimaru's intervention, Dai would've opened the Eight Gates and died taking Hanzo with him. Orochimaru had no doubt Dai could kill Hanzo—but at the cost of Konoha's most vital asset.
Every encounter with Dai gave Orochimaru a headache.
"You're as diligent as ever, Dai," Orochimaru said dryly.
"Thank you for recognizing my efforts, Lord Orochimaru!" Dai flashed a thumbs-up.
Orochimaru's eye twitched. He took a deep breath.
"Dai, we're launching the full assault next."
"Lord Orochimaru, I'm ready to dedicate my youth at any moment!" Dai pounded his chest.
Orochimaru's face darkened.
"That won't be necessary. This time, you must follow orders. Otherwise, the losses will be catastrophic."
Seeing Orochimaru's stern expression, Dai sobered. "Understood, Lord Orochimaru. I'll do my best to save everyone."
"You still don't get it!!" Orochimaru nearly screamed.
He was even worse than Jiraiya.
Upon arriving at the command tent, Orochimaru took the latest report from a messenger. His frown deepened as he read.
"The Hidden Sand and Hidden Stone… retreated?"
He had planned a full assault to push back all three fronts, but now the enemy had withdrawn from the Land of Rain, leaving only the Rain ninjas behind. This was unlike the Hidden Stone and Hidden Sand.
Orochimaru sensed something amiss.
"Send word to the village immediately!" he ordered. "Have the White Fang, Jiraiya, and Tsunade reinforce the Rain front."
Unlike the other three, who lacked strategic acumen, Orochimaru was a capable commander with sharp instincts for the battlefield.
"I hope I'm overthinking this," he muttered, his sinister gaze fixed on the Land of Rain.
...
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(End of Chapter)