On the great floating citadel Ark Prophecy, Souta Kiryuu watched the live broadcast projected across the chakra mirror.
His expression was unreadable as the scene unfolded — the Kiryuu Clan's allied forces were barely holding the line against the overwhelming might of the Five Sage Lords.
Perhaps his teleportation construct, the Seraph Engine, really wouldn't reach the battlefield in time.
If the old clan patriarch fell here tonight, his legendary Earthquake Release bloodline — that forbidden art said to shatter the world itself — would reincarnate somewhere in the world, seeking a new vessel.
Souta's gaze darkened. If that happened, he'd have no choice but to hunt down the next inheritor and claim the power himself.
"Is this really the end?" he murmured, barely audible, his voice swallowed by the hum of the citadel.
Competing with the Sage Lords for a reborn bloodline… that was suicide. Their dominion stretched across every hidden village and kingdom.
Still, if fate favored him — if some fool stumbled upon the bloodline first — Souta was confident he could take it back by force.
Brooding wouldn't help now. The world never bent to those who hesitated.
Even if the Sage Lords or the Allied Shinobi Forces claimed the Earthquake Release, he would kill the new wielder and tear the ability from their corpse.
A faint smirk curved his lips. "Aside from the old man's misfortune, Raizen and Lady Amakiri have done well."
His reflection flickered with the crimson hue of the chakra display.
Raizen's battalion had annihilated the Crimson Fang Division — only a handful of their core captains survived. Even their commander, the red-haired swordsman Shanksu, was coughing blood after being mauled by Raizen's draconic form.
The flaw of a warrior without a kekkei genkai was becoming obvious. His endurance and recovery couldn't compare to Raizen, whose Mythic Beast Transformation had awakened the Azure Dragon form.
Judging from Shanksu's dwindling chakra signature and his retreating position, he was preparing to withdraw.
If he didn't, his men — even elites like Beckman and Yasusōbu — would eventually be slaughtered by Raizen's expeditionary brutes and the elite "Sky Blades."
Retreat was his only sane choice now.
The combined forces of Souta Kiryuu and Lady Amakiri had turned the tides elsewhere.
The main fleet of the Allied Shinobi Forces was in ruins, their flagship burning. Souta hadn't expected the aging hero, Ironfist Garpan, to still hold his own against Lady Amakiri in direct combat — yet the old man had, roaring like a storm, his chakra fists colliding with her titanic form.
Meanwhile, the rogue swordsman Shiryuu of the Rain was locked in a furious duel with the veteran Bogatto, both men drenched in blood and covered in slashing wounds.
High above, Enryu, the Thunder God, clashed against General Chaton, lightning splitting the heavens. The admiral's armor was shredded, his body seared with burns.
Elsewhere, the kunoichi Tsuyon — "Peach Rabbit" of the Allied Forces — fought desperately against two of Lady Amakiri's elite commanders, Cracker and Snagg. Her stamina was nearly gone, her chest heaving with every breath, but neither of her enemies spared her a glance of admiration.
They only saw a target — a powerful candidate for High Commander whose head would fetch a bounty larger than Enryu's own.
Amid the chaos, countless mid-ranking officers fell. Vice-commanders, fortress lords — none escaped the bloodshed.
The same was true for Souta's own followers and Amakiri's kin. Both sides bled until the sea turned black with chakra and ash.
Across the world, civilians watching through mirrored broadcasts covered their mouths in horror.
Even the soldiers stationed in distant provinces wept, seeing the mightiest of shinobi fall like insects.
The Kiryuu Clan's captains were dying one after another.
The patriarch himself, the great "Whitebeard" of the Kiryuu lineage, tried to pull back — but three Sage Lords barred his path.
From above, the monstrous entity Nasujoro — the Bone Horse Sage — charged through the battlefield, his skeletal steed wreathed in ghostly flame. No one could stop him. Captains and vice-commanders alike were cut down, hundreds slain beneath the swings of his cursed blade, Oni-Kitetsu.
Bodies carpeted the shore. The subordinate clans were almost annihilated.
As night fell, the bone horse burned brighter with infernal light, its ghostfire painting the clouds an unholy blue.
It was like watching a demon from the depths of Yomi rise to purge the living world.
To his left, the Sage Lord Volkuri had transformed into a molten boar — a creature of magma and flame.
To the right, the Sage Lord Marsu had taken the form of a blazing celestial bird, a false sun that illuminated the night.
The war had lasted an entire day, and still neither side had relented.
It was madness — divine and human pride grinding each other into dust.
Then the moon appeared — full and silver — bathing the battlefield in pale light.
"Rrrrraaaahhh!"
From the ranks of Lady Amakiri's army, a lion-clan warrior named Bokumusu roared, his body exploding with energy as he transformed under the full moon's glow.
But unable to control his Lunar Beast state, he lost all sense, slashing friend and foe alike, his rampage tearing through their formation.
The chaos didn't escape Lady Amakiri's gaze.
Her living sun, Prometheus, blazed like a star above the sea, flooding the battlefield with golden light — a boon to the broadcast and a curse to her enemies.
With a shriek, she unleashed her "Radiant Cannon," obliterating the berserk Bokumusu and hurling him into the Allied Shinobi ranks, where his rampage continued.
Night or not, Nasujoro's slaughter didn't slow. His mastery of the Sage Art of Perception let him sense life itself.
"No! Hajita!"
A green-clad young man fell, his head split by the cursed blade.
The Twelfth Division Captain of the Kiryuu Clan was gone.
Despair spread through the remaining captains.
"Tonight, I will erase your entire bloodline," Nasujoro said coldly, his horse's hooves dripping with spectral fire.
"Why are you butchering us while the Allied Forces are dying to Amakiri and Kiryuu's troops?" cried Vice-Captain Waidibei, terror flashing across her face. She had fought monsters before — even legends like Lord Raizen and the Pirate King himself — but never had she known fear like this.
Nasujoro didn't even glance at her. "There will always be more soldiers. But your clan will not rise again."
He blurred into motion, a phantom of bone and smoke, cutting down everyone in his path.
"Big Sis Waidibei! Let's take him together!" roared Captain Namyuru, the sharkman of the Eighth Division. His body swelled with rage and despair. If he had to die, he'd make sure to bite off a piece of the Sage Lord first.
Waidibei's hands trembled. Her gaze turned toward the distant patriarch — the great Whitebeard of their clan — still locked in mortal combat with the molten boar.
Her lips parted in silent prayer. Please, Father… save us.
But the old man was still fighting, neither winning nor losing.
"Fight! Don't shame the Kiryuu name!" she cried, her fear burning away, replaced by a grim, desperate courage.
Her conviction spread like wildfire — every surviving captain and ally roared as one, throwing themselves into the jaws of death.
"Pathetic struggle," hissed Nasujoro. The bone horse screamed, its hooves cracking the earth as icy wind howled from its form. Oni-Kitetsu's aura pulsed like a cursed heartbeat, freezing the air.
And then — a surge of blue fire cut through the darkness.
From the distant flagship, a phoenix of azure flame rose into the sky, followed by an orange sunburst that split the clouds.
"Stay back, Ace! Your wounds aren't healed yet!" shouted Marco, the Undying Bird, spreading his wings of blue fire as he raced toward the front.
But the young warrior refused. "Everyone's fighting — how could I hide?" Ace's face was pale but determined. "If Father and my brothers die here… what's the point of me living on?"
The two of them soared toward the heart of the inferno — to the ship Moby Dick, where destiny was still being rewritten in blood and flame.
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