That terrifying sight that made the scalp go numb unfolded before everyone's eyes.
The ground beneath their feet had sunk into a funnel-shaped collapse.
The buildings, already reduced to ruins by earlier explosions, found their point of collapse and poured into that gaping pit.
It was as if someone had pierced a hole in the bottom of a sandbox—just a light poke—and all the sand began collapsing into the hollow underground.
Countless stones tumbled down into the deep pit, the deafening rumble filling their ears, sounding like a giant creature chewing its food.
"What's happening?"
"Why did the ground suddenly collapse?"
Everyone kept using Body Flicker to move farther away from the collapsing center, their eyes filled with shock and uncertainty as they looked back.
But then—just like a huge wave crashing down on the sea, exploding into an unstoppable tide amid thunderous noise and sprays of debris—a stormy wind swept up dust clouds ten meters high, completely blocking their line of sight.
Only when the rumbling inside the dust began to fade did everyone halt their steps, staring firmly at the center of the haze.
Rainwater slid from their temples, shattering on their hands that were still held in hand-seal positions.
Instinct told them—there was something inside.
The last traces of light had already gone out.
Darkness of the rainy night enclosed everything.
Nobody panicked, but no one spoke either. Everything fell into deathly silence—only the sounds of breathing, the wind, and the rain remained.
"Could this be the work of the Hidden Cloud Village?"
Akimichi Dōtō's expression darkened as he gazed into the dust.
Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Toroi in the distance, whose bloodied face wore the same grave look.
Then… could it be those Hidden Stone bastards instead?
But… what would they even gain from this?
"S… Senior Dōtō."
Just as doubt flickered in Akimichi Dōtō's mind, a trembling voice reached his ears from nearby.
That voice carried a trace of fear.
He instinctively turned his head, only to see Hyūga Kumokawa with his Byakugan wide open, staring dead ahead.
A droplet—whether rain or sweat—ran down from his temple, slid along his chin, and dripped down.
"Something… is about to come out!" Hyūga Kumokawa's voice shook.
Lightning split the night sky at that very moment, jagged thunderbolts branching across the heavens like a sprawling tree.
In that blinding white light, for the briefest instant, a figure flickered within the distant dust.
Boom!
Thunder rolled through the distant sky, a deafening crash, as though the heavens themselves were enraged and disgusted.
And what were they enraged at?
No one needed to guess. The answer was already walking out.
Plop… plop…
The footsteps that entered their ears were crisp and ethereal.
Nothing extraordinary, yet they struck directly into the heart.
With each step, the air vibrated, their eardrums, their scalps, even their bones trembling along.
Reflected in their pupils, a lone figure slowly emerged.
They finally saw clearly the one who walked toward them.
Dressed in a robe as black as the stormy night itself, it was like staring at a drifting shadow—an empty, hollow shadow exuding fear, decay, and the abyss itself.
Only those eyes—those pale blue-white eyes—glimmered faintly in the darkness, as though suppressing something.
"…"
At that moment, Toroi suddenly felt a hunch.
A strange, inexplicable instinct.
Even if he struck right now, he would only cut through that flowing black shadow.
His blade wouldn't even touch flesh or draw a drop of blood.
And he had always trusted his instincts. His entire body tensed up.
That guy… something's not right.
"You…"
Aburame Ryōma narrowed his eyes, opening his mouth as if to speak.
The Root ninja in front of him subconsciously raised his hand, gripping his kunai and short blade tightly—
At that moment, those once hollow, unfocused eyes suddenly found their target.
They locked onto Aburame Ryōma, and the figure raised his hand, giving a light swing.
"Move!"
Aburame Ryōma's scalp went numb, an indescribable chill cutting to his bones.
Even the insects inside him rioted in panic.
He shouted and leapt back without hesitation.
Shhhk!
An invisible wind blade, like a crescent moon, tore through the air before him.
The very air itself split apart, the arc extending several meters in an instant, slashing at the Root ninja standing ahead.
Those Root operatives, who had just been about to move, suddenly froze in place as if time itself had stopped.
Beneath their masks, their faces were stunned. In that fleeting instant, time seemed to halt.
The parted air slowly closed back in. The shriek of the blade stretched out unnaturally long.
Splurt! Splurt! Splurt!
The next moment, it was as though a storm had swept past them.
The Root shinobi standing there were sliced in half at the waist by an invisible scythe.
Their torsos, eyes still filled with bewilderment and helplessness, slid down from their waists to the ground.
It was like watching blood-red wheat being reaped by a farmer's scythe.
Blood burst violently from their severed waists, spraying upward into the rainy night, falling down as a chilling shower of crimson.
Quickly, it pooled into a spreading puddle, mirroring the stunned expressions on everyone's faces.
"Ahhh!!"
The Root shinobi who had been cut in half didn't die instantly.
The pain finally reached their nerves, piercing their brain and nerves, and their wretched, terrified screams rang out in the night.
"What… what kind of ninjutsu is that?!"
"Wind Style: Wind Cutter Jutsu?"
The screams snapped everyone out of their daze. Akimichi Dōtō shuddered violently, muttering:
"What kind of sick joke is this? That's just a B-rank jutsu. How could it have this much power?!"
Several hundred meters of distance—done in barely a second. How could anyone do that?!
The blood kept gushing out like an arterial fountain, staining the world with scarlet. It drowned their vision, everything tainted red like some hideous bloom.
The wind, rain, thunder, and screams all merged together, like the cruel accompaniment to a devil's torture.
And in the distance, that shadowy figure slowly raised both hands, his black robe lifting like great wings.
"Slaughter… death… blood… hatred… fear… despair… pain… screams… wails… the wind… and the rain…"
The hoarse voice, low at first, climbed higher step by step until it rang out clear with twisted joy.
"Hah… what a beautiful night this is!"
It was clear now—he was deliberately prolonging the Root shinobi's agony, savoring their screams as though they were music.
His words, brimming with horror, madness, and delight, made everyone's blood run cold.
Lightning crackled through the clouds again, painting the world gray and white.
The lightning's glare lit up the pale faces of everyone present.
They didn't understand who or what this man was. But they knew one undeniable truth before them.
A monster.
This sudden intruder was no man.
He was a monster.
A monster who fed on slaughter, death, despair, pain, screams, and wails—yet possessed overwhelming power!