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Chapter 60 - Chapter 60 – The Warfront Awakens

The sky above the ruins was red with fire.

Minato staggered out of the collapsing fortress, lungs heaving as dust swirled in choking clouds behind him. Sakumo was the first to step onto open earth, his white hair streaked with ash, his tanto still clutched in a hand that hadn't loosened since the fighting began. Duy stumbled after him, coughing so hard it bent his broad frame. Ryuzen dragged himself out last, eyes darting, storm-scarred chakra still crackling faintly along his arms.

The fortress of Obsidian was gone. What remained was rubble, half-sunken into the earth like a tomb.

And beyond that—

The war.

The hills trembled with the clash of thousands. From their vantage point, they could see the valley below lit by explosions. Fireballs arced into the night. Earth walls rose and collapsed. Kunai storms glinted like silver rain. The banners of Iwa whipped in the wind alongside the black insignia of Obsidian—two armies moving like jaws around Konoha's scattered forces.

Minato's throat tightened. He had known the Third War was raging. He had expected blood. But this… this was slaughter.

Sakumo's eyes narrowed, taking in the scene. "Konoha is cornered."

Duy clenched his fists, his voice hoarse. "Then we move. We can't stand here while our comrades are cut down."

Ryuzen said nothing, gaze flickering not to the battlefield but to Minato. His storm-scarred eyes caught every twitch, every tremor—the way Minato's fingers flexed unconsciously as though lightning were itching to escape.

Minato forced himself upright. His body still felt like it was made of glass, fragile and vibrating with leftover storm. He didn't want them to see. He couldn't let them see. "Let's go," he said, and the words carried the weight of command.

The Weight of Survival

When they reached Konoha's forward line, the reaction was immediate.

"Captain Minato?!" A jonin gaped as if he'd seen a ghost. His arm was in a sling, his vest slashed with blood. "They said you were lost—that Obsidian buried you in the fortress—"

"We're alive," Sakumo cut him off, his tone clipped. "That's all that matters. What's the situation?"

The jonin's throat bobbed. His eyes darted from Minato to Ryuzen, then back, as though confirming they weren't illusions. "We've been holding against Iwa's second battalion for three days straight. But Obsidian—" He swallowed. "They're different. They don't fight like Iwa. They don't fight like anyone. They appear where our defenses are weakest, break our lines, and vanish before we can counter. Every time we adapt, they change tactics. It's like… like they know us."

Minato's stomach dropped.

The storm inside him pulsed at the words. They know you.

He clenched his fists until his nails bit skin.

"Where's command?" Sakumo asked.

"Scattered," the jonin admitted. "Half our captains are dead or missing. If you're here—if you're alive—then maybe—" His voice broke with desperate hope.

Minato forced a smile, though his chest was tight. "We'll stabilize the line. You've held this long. Now let us push back."

The jonin nodded, relief plain, and ran to rally the others.

Duy let out a low whistle. "We walk out of a collapsing fortress, and already the army wants us to turn the tide."

"We don't have the luxury of resting," Sakumo said grimly. His eyes flicked to Minato. "Especially not you."

Minato pretended he didn't hear the weight in the words.

Obsidian's Arrival

It didn't take long.

The Konoha line was bracing against Iwa's charge when the air shifted. Shadows rippled across the field—not natural ones, but deliberate, precise. The kind that moved with intention.

Obsidian.

They didn't roar or announce themselves. They slid into the battlefield like knives in the dark, a hundred strong, armor painted with the same jagged sigil Minato had seen in the fortress murals. Their movements were unnervingly synchronized: not a clan, not a village, but a single machine of war.

At their head strode a commander in armor lacquered black and crimson. His face was hidden beneath a mask, his voice distorted by some technique that made it echo across the entire valley.

"There," the commander intoned, raising a blade that hummed with chakra. His gaze fixed directly on Minato. "The vessel walks among them."

The words rolled like thunder. All around, Obsidian soldiers adjusted formation instantly, focusing on one point—him.

Konoha's line wavered. Minato felt dozens of eyes snap to him, fear rippling like a wave. Vessel. Not captain. Not hero. Vessel.

The storm inside him stirred eagerly, as though pleased with the title.

The Battlefield Test

They struck.

Obsidian's advance was surgical, cutting through Iwa and Konoha alike as if both armies were nothing more than distractions. Their formation bent around Minato's team, isolating them in the heart of the battlefield.

"Minato!" Sakumo's tanto flashed, intercepting a spear that shimmered with sealing tags. Sparks showered. "You can't hold back!"

Duy roared, muscles straining as he held two Obsidian soldiers at bay with sheer force. "We'll cover you—just unleash it!"

But unleashing it was the problem.

Minato's breath hitched. Lightning coiled at his fingertips, hungry, desperate. Each flicker made the storm's rhythm pound louder in his ears. Faster. Louder. Demanding. He slashed his kunai through an enemy's guard, storm-chakra lancing out to strike another before they could blink. Two fell in one motion. His body blurred with speed unnatural even for him.

The Obsidian commander watched. Silent. Measuring.

Another wave pressed in. Minato moved without thinking, teleporting in bursts of light, each strike leaving a trail of silver arcs. The battlefield itself seemed to bend around him.

And yet—every time he tapped deeper, he felt control slipping. His fingers trembled. His eyes burned. Once, a bolt veered wide, nearly striking Ryuzen before he yanked it back at the last instant.

"Minato!" Ryuzen shouted, fury and fear in his tone. "Stay with me!"

But the storm wanted more. It wanted everything.

The commander finally spoke again, voice calm amid slaughter. "Yes… yes. The vessel learns to sing."

Minato's gut twisted. This wasn't a battle. This was an examination.

Cliffhanger

He pushed harder, forcing the storm back into rhythm. One by one, Obsidian fell. The commander raised a hand—instantly, the entire division disengaged, vanishing back into the night like they had never been there.

Not defeated. Not broken. Withdrawn.

Minato stood panting in the wreckage, lightning still crawling faintly across his skin. He realized with a jolt of horror: they had come not to win, but to test him. To watch him. To push him to the edge and see what he became.

The storm inside purred. They see you.

Across the battlefield, past the haze of fire and blood, Minato's gaze locked on a shadow far beyond the front lines. A figure standing still amid chaos, hands folded behind his back. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

The Obsidian Master.

The moment their eyes met, the voice echoed in Minato's skull—not loud, but soft. Soon.

And then the shadow was gone.

Minato swallowed hard, forcing his storm-bright eyes dim. His comrades were still alive. The line was still holding. But deep down, he knew: the warfront was not chaos. It was a chessboard. And he was already the piece being played.

Author's Note

⚡ "Minato has returned to the warfront alive, but not untouched. Obsidian didn't try to kill him—they tried to measure him. Every strike, every flicker of storm, was exactly what they wanted to see. The question now isn't whether Minato can survive the war… but whether he can survive himself."

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