For most people, jumping straight into the center of a ten-thousand-man formation was suicide.
But for someone who'd mastered a body-enhancement technique like the Lightning Style Armour, it was like a wolf diving into a flock of sheep.
Arata's leap alone made the Third Raikage tense.
As for the jōnin-class soldiers around him—
they had no chance against Arata in close combat.
Not even for a single exchange.
The Raikage understood this.
But the shinobi of Kumogakure didn't.
Seeing Arata drop into their ranks, their first reaction was contempt.
Only the ring of shinobi closest to him felt a chill crawl up their spines—
because they realized that if Arata had jumped straight at them,
they wouldn't even have had time to react.
Arata noticed them freezing and let out a faint laugh.
"Let's warm up a little."
Without using lightning, without using any chakra armor, he charged at the surrounding shinobi using pure taijutsu.
He didn't even draw the short sword at his hip.
The stance alone made it clear—
he intended to fight ten thousand men with his bare fists.
Most Kumogakure shinobi were close-combat experts.
Their homeland's natural lightning storms and their village's training methods had built them into physically imposing fighters whose Lightning Style made their reflexes razor-sharp.
But what Arata did next slapped that pride across the face.
With no secret techniques, with nothing but raw taijutsu,
he tore straight into their ranks.
Seeing what they thought was arrogance,
the shinobi surrounding him rallied their courage and attacked.
Lightning jutsu crackled.
Swords flashed from behind.
Kunai and shuriken zipped in from the sides.
But no matter how fierce the barrage,
Arata slipped through every gap like water—
dodging everything, and dropping every shinobi around him with a single punch.
The Third Raikage, watching from afar, swallowed hard.
This reminded him of someone—
a man who once stood above the entire shinobi world.
Uchiha Madara.
Back then, Madara had charged alone into the Land of Lightning,
forcing them into retreat after retreat until they were compelled to join the Five Kage Summit.
The Raikage had been just a young fighter then,
watching from a distance as Madara descended like a wrathful god.
That moment had set his lifelong goal—
to surpass Uchiha Madara.
He trained relentlessly, achieved terrifying strength—
but he never closed the gap.
And now Arata Itsuki was doing exactly what Madara once did.
In that instant, the Raikage's strategy changed.
Before, he merely wanted Arata dead.
Now—
he would do anything to kill him.
Because if Arata kept growing,
another "Demon of the Shinobi World" would rise—
and the Land of Lightning would never have a chance to stand at the top.
While he thought this, more than a hundred Kumogakure shinobi had already been smashed aside by Arata in mere moments.
After training under ten-times gravity in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber,
returning to the normal world felt like plunging a dragon into open ocean.
His strikes landed harder than he intended—
shattering organs, rupturing bodies.
Some weaker genin burst into blood mist with a single blow.
Such was the terrifying power he now wielded.
As the seconds passed, he adjusted his strength,
holding back just enough to leave bodies intact.
But even restrained,
no jōnin could withstand a single exchange.
Seeing this, the Third Raikage stopped hesitating.
"Clear out!"
He tore off his vest, revealing thick, sculpted muscle—
and then lightning engulfed him,
forming a gleaming blue armor around his entire body.
It was Kumogakure's ultimate jutsu:
Thunder Style Armour.
The moment it activated, the Raikage vanished.
Arata, still tearing through the rank-and-file,
felt a pressure barreling toward him—
and smirked.
"So you finally moved…"
He didn't dodge.
He crossed his arms before his chest and shouted:
"Come on! Show me the strength of the world's strongest taijutsu!"
Now he understood why Uchiha Madara
had grinned when facing Might Guy's Eight Gates—
going without a worthy opponent was simply too dull.
Only a true battle between warriors
could ignite the blood.
The Raikage saw Arata deliberately taking the hit
and roared in fury:
"Hell Stab—Four-Fang Strike!"
Lightning gathered at his right hand.
Four fingers extended,
a spear of deep blue chakra forming in an instant.
Before the final syllable left his lips,
he was already in front of Arata—
those four fingers aimed straight for Arata's heart.
In that flash, the Raikage saw Arata's faint smile—
and noticed a strange black aura coating his crossed arms.
Even sensing something was off,
the Raikage didn't pull back.
He wanted to see
whether his most lethal piercing strike
could be stopped.
Normally, even Kage-level opponents dodged this
or countered with ninjutsu.
No one had ever dared take it head-on.
But when his fingers struck Arata's forearms,
the sensation wasn't flesh—
it was like stabbing the hardest metal in the world.
CLANG.
BOOM.
The impact echoed.
Arata was blasted backward faster than the eye could follow.
And because he was in the middle of Kumogakure's formation,
his body slammed into dozens of shinobi on the way out.
Just brushing against them
was enough to knock them unconscious instantly.
He skidded through the battlefield,
flying more than a hundred meters
before slamming into a massive boulder and finally stopping.
The Kumogakure shinobi erupted—
even though many had been caught in the blast.
The Third Raikage had struck once—
and sent the unstoppable Arata flying.
Cheers exploded across the battlefield.