Jiraiya was still stuck in shock, but when he heard Arata bragging, he snapped back to his senses.
He was extremely competitive by nature, so even if he knew he might lose today, he wasn't about to beg for mercy.
"Hmph! So what if it's natural energy? You don't know who's stronger until fists fly!"
He wasn't wrong. Even if Arata's whole body was made of natural energy, that didn't mean he could fully control it.
And the truth was exactly that: Arata possessed the top-tier Logia-type Rumble–Rumble power, but he hadn't had it for long and couldn't bring out anywhere near its full potential yet.
If Jiraiya had truly mastered Sage Mode, then between the two of them right now… it really wasn't certain who would win.
But seeing Jiraiya's stance, Arata could tell clearly: he wasn't drawing in natural energy. That meant his Sage training still wasn't complete—he still couldn't activate Sage Mode on his own.
"Here I come!"
With a soft shout, Arata pushed his speed to the limit. His entire body burst into dazzling lightning, vanishing into the night air.
As he moved, he had already drawn his short blade.
Being Arata's closest friend, Jiraiya understood him too well. Almost all of Arata's combat power was tied to his blade, and combined with his terrifying speed, that was how he had managed to stand his ground among jōnin back then.
Now that his speed had skyrocketed, if Jiraiya didn't find a way to restrict him, he'd lose in an instant!
"Earth Style: Swamp of the Underworld!"
Without hesitation, Jiraiya used one of his wide-area Earth Release techniques. Swamp of the Underworld created a massive mire—large enough that even a colossal summoning beast like Manda would be dragged under, rendered immobile and sinking until completely buried.
It was the perfect technique to neutralize speed.
But Jiraiya's plan crumbled immediately—Arata's lightning form wasn't actually running on the ground. He was flying low.
By the time the swamp formed, Arata was already right in front of him.
Jiraiya's eyes widened. His tactic had failed completely.
But his battle instincts were sharp. He instantly switched strategies.
Still, Arata's speed was overwhelming. His blade was already descending on Jiraiya, moments away from cutting him clean in half.
Jiraiya had no choice but to use his signature technique.
"Art of the Raging Lion's Mane!"
With a shout, his long white hair sharpened like countless blades, whipping toward Arata's short sword in a massive wave.
At a moment this dangerous, only a technique that required no hand seals could save him.
As Jiraiya's original creation, Lion's Mane was his strongest jutsu at present. Its density and ferocity rivaled even Orochimaru's Thousand Snakes, and in the future he would go on to one-shot Pain's giant ox summon with it.
Arata's speed and sword were fast—but he was only one man with one blade.
Jiraiya's hair, however, was endless. In that storm of razor-sharp strands, Arata's unstoppable speed was suddenly neutralized, forced to defend.
And that was only because he didn't want to reveal his elemental body. If he used intangibility, physical attacks like this couldn't hurt him at all.
But this was a friendly duel between brothers. Arata wasn't going to use his ultimate trump card. A simple spar was enough.
Besides, he needed to break the bad habit of over-relying on elementalization—one day it might bite him. In the shinobi world, there were countless types of jutsu; who knew which technique looked physical but could actually strike his real body?
Realizing he wouldn't break free in the short term, Arata strengthened the sharpness of his blade.
His swordsmanship had advanced in recent days—perfect timing to test it on Jiraiya's steel-hard hair.
In the next instant, his short blade became wrapped in a layer of blue lightning. The arcs pulsed rapidly, deepening from pale blue to a deep electric blue.
Arata's aura tightened. His eyes slowly closed as if he were ignoring Jiraiya's attacks entirely.
Jiraiya, who had been watching him intently, felt an unprecedented sense of danger.
"Not good!"
He leapt back with full force, still directing his hair to pursue while his hands rapidly formed seals.
"Wind Style: Air Bullet!"
His cheeks puffed out, and he spat forward a massive wind sphere dozens of meters tall. The rotating wind blades screamed, distorting the air itself. Even without touching it, the pressure alone warped a person's skin.
Just then, Arata's eyes opened. His voice was low:
"One-Sword Style… Sword of the Thunder God!"
His blade swept lightly—blue lightning vanished from its edge.
In its place, a massive lightning-infused sword-arc, tens of meters wide, tore through the air with a howl.
This was a true swordsman's flying slash—something only those who had stepped into the realm of swordmasters could unleash.
The arc was the fusion of Arata's lightning ability and his sharpened swordsmanship. It was his strongest attack in both penetration and cutting power.
As expected, the steel-like Lion's Mane jutsu, which had just dominated the field, was instantly severed—shredded into a rain of white strands.
Seeing this, Jiraiya hurriedly canceled the jutsu. If he didn't, he'd go bald at his age.
No sooner had he pulled back his hair than the massive thunder slash collided with Air Bullet.
By elemental logic, Wind Style should counter Lightning.
But this slash was far too sharp. It ignored nature-advantage entirely—splitting the Air Bullet clean down the center.
The disrupted wind sphere exploded, blasting the forest for hundreds of meters. Trees snapped like twigs, utterly uprooted.
By now, the slash had slowed a bit from tearing through two jutsu, but not nearly enough.
Jiraiya leapt desperately, barely dodging it.
Yet even so, a thin line of blood appeared across his face—his cheek sliced open.
It turned out the slash's effective range was far larger than it appeared. Even though he thought he'd dodged it, the invisible blade-pressure still cut him.
Jiraiya survived the strike, but the same couldn't be said for the forest and the small mountain behind him.
The flying slash tore through almost a full kilometer—trees, boulders, and even the peak of a small mountain were cleaved clean off along its path.