Molten glass cooled into black mirrors beneath their feet. The storm clouds dispersed, leaving behind the night sky.
Oroshiki lowered himself slightly from the air, using his Tenrigan to hover as his arm healed.
His expression went from being amused to being measured.
"You still reject it," he said calmly. "You stand on my blood, use my divine lineage, rewrite your very being with my essence… and still refuse to use the Tenrigan?"
Shuen's reformed wings flexed once.
"I refuse you."
Oroshiki's eyes rotated, all six of them turned within each socket like a machine.
"You misunderstand the difference." The false god chuckled.
The air thickened.
Chakra didn't surge violently this time, nature energy condensed, drawn inward.
"The Tenrigan does not simply see chakra and nature energy," Oroshiki continued. "It sees belief. It perceives the true shape of supremacy."
The golden spheres behind him dissolved into streams of light and sank into his body. The pressure around him deepened.
"Every living being carries an image of what stands at the pinnacle."
His voice overlapped with Takumi's.
"With my eyes," Takumi's voice whispered, almost as if he was relevant. "I can make that image of the pinnacle real."
The pair of Tenrigan on Oroshiki's forehead flared.
A silhouette made of golden light formed beside the airborne Oroshiki, first it was just a light, then a presence. A towering spectral figure floated into existence, draped in spectral golden robes. Long, phantom pale beige hair cascaded down its back, antler like horns sharper, larger and more regal. Its eyes burned with a purer version of the Tenrigan.
Oroshiki.
Back in his glory days.
Shuen knew this figure all too well, but it wasn't perfect.
The construct's chakra signature was steady, immense, mechanical like it didn't have a will of its own.
Shuen stared at it.
For the first time, his expression shifted drastically.
"So that is how you see the pinnacle of existence? You from back in the day?" Shuen asked quietly.
Oroshiki smiled.
"Nope."
The prime construct stepped forward.
"That," Oroshiki said softly. "That is how your loyal Voice of The Lord sees the pinnacle of existence, me. If it were my eyes that saw myself as the pinnacle, the ability would manifest as a suit of spectral armour rather than a companion."
The two Oroshiki's moved simultaneously.
Shuen tied his long hair back and rolled his shoulders once.
The prime construct vanished in a disturbing display of speed. It flickered in front of Shuen and drove a fist into his guard. The impact pushed Shuen back across the glassy crater floor.
Before he could stabilize, the real Oroshiki struck from behind, a palm strike fortified with golden lightning aimed at the base of Shuen's skull.
But Shuen twisted.
One wing snapped backward, feathers hardening mid motion and colliding with the strike. The lightning shot outward, causing the feathers to scatter, but… Shuen had already stepped inside the construct's range.
He punched the prime construct.
Not with any elegance.
Not trained, this was his first time in humanoid form after all.
But it was raw.
Sparks of his soul flame danced across his knuckles and detonated on impact. The construct staggered half a step, chest cracking with fissures of light.
It smiled, then headbutted Shuen.
The impact rang like a temple bell struck by a god.
Shuen slid back, dizzy from the blow.
Taking the opportunity, the two Oroshiki's pressed him together.
The real one moved with precision and delivered a low kick followed by a palm strike coated in golden lightning. The construct on the other hand… fought far heavier, each strike carrying the weight of conviction instead of technique.
Shuen was forced into a defensive position.
His feathers burst out from his wings and hovered around him, intercepting strikes and exploding on impact, creating momentary openings. He sacrificed two feathers to teleport twice in rapid succession, one to avoid a blade of lightning and the other to reappear above the construct and drive both heels down into its shoulders.
They both hit the ground, causing the black glass to shatter.
The real Oroshiki landed beside them, grabbing Shuen's wing and slamming him sideways through a jagged ridge of hardened black glass.
The construct followed through, forming a golden blade of hardened natural energy and thrusting downward.
Shuen caught the blade between his hands.
It burned.
Shuen's eyes flared brighter.
"You think this is supremacy? You think this is the pinnacle?" He snarled.
He gathered the surrounding natural energy and fed it to his soul flame, the white and gold flames crawling up the spectral blade and spreading toward the constructs arm.
The prime construct did not retreat, it allowed the flame to consume it halfway up the limb before severing the arm and immediately reforming it in the same motion.
Behind the construct, Oroshiki made his first hand seal.
The air bent.
Gravity intensified around Shuen, forcing him downward as lightning speared from the sky, the lightning chakra being amplified by Oroshiki infusing natural energy into it.
Shuen dropped to one knee.
He screamed inwardly.
The sound compressed around his own body, distorting the space immediately surrounding him. The frequency forcing both Oroshiki's into a genjutsu.
For a fraction of a second, they were both thrust into a world of darkness without sound.
That was enough, so Shuen surged forward.
He tackled the construct through a jagged glass pillar, driving it into the ground and hammering down with fists engulfed in golden flames. Each punch cracking the golden natural form he was made of.
The real Oroshiki appeared at his flank to support the construct.
Shuen had anticipated it.
A wing snapped sideways, feathers piercing Oroshiki's shoulder and detonating once embedded. The explosion tore flesh, but Oroshiki's body quickly reformed, lightning surged down his arm as he seized Shuen by the throat.
"You are fighting two perfect beings." Oroshiki said coldly.
Shuen clawed at the hand around his neck, eyes blazing.
"No."
He slammed his forehead into Oroshiki's face once again, breaking the grip.
"I'm fighting two parasites."
The construct rose behind him and wrapped both arms around Shuen's torso, locking him into place.
Lightning from the real Oroshiki gathered in a concentrated sphere at his fingertips, focused and lethal.
Shuen's wings strained against the hold. "Hey, use something other than lightning. It's getting old."
His feathers started to glow and vibrate.
All across the battlefield, every feather that had been discarded and lodged in stone, sand and glass started to hum faintly.
Oroshiki noticed this development and his eyes narrowed. "Well, give me a while to get used to this body and I'll show you what I can really do. As of right now, both of the vessels used for this body have an affinity for lightning, so my options are limited."
The lightning sphere launched.
At the same moment, Shuen detonated every single feather inward at once.
The explosions didn't ravage the environment. They imploded and folded space toward Shuen's body in micro collapses, disrupting the construct's grip and twisting the trajectory of the sphere.
The attack grazed his side instead of piercing his chest.
The construct lost its arm once again, just long enough for Shuen to break free.
He immediately stepped into the real Oroshiki's personal space and they began trading blows.
Shuen managed to punch Oroshiki's jaw, the false god returning with a punch to the gut and following it up with an elbow to the solar plexus, which Shuen withstood and returned by elbowing Oroshiki's throat.
Oroshiki grit his teeth and kicked Shuen's abdomen, following it up with a quick bolt of golden lightning that was countered by a wall of white flames. The glass shattered beneath their feet.
The construct rejoined them.
Now it was the three of them locked in a close battle, the impacts caused explosions and their footwork turned the glass into dust.
Shuen quickly grabbed the construct by the throat and drove it into the ground again. The real Oroshiki struck him across the jaw hard enough to break it, but Shuen rolled, got back up and tackled them both into a pillar of stone while his jaw injury quickly healed with the power of his soul flame.
The pillar collapsed and the dust hid everything.
Then the three figures burst out simultaneously, breathing slightly heavier from fatigue.
Oroshiki wiped blood from his lip. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be the protector of that village? You're out here fighting me while all of your loyal followers are all dying."
Shuen stood up with his hair tied back, unmarred, wings half spread and an aura of white and gold soulflame enveloping him. "Loyal followers… don't make me laugh. The result of their loyalty created the very thing I am facing right now."
The construct's chest flickered slightly as it reformed.
"Not one person in that village actually believed I was a god nor did they worship me. They just used me for my healing capabilities and a safe space." Shuen said, catching his breath. "Only one man has ever truly believed in me and respected me unconditionally."
Oroshiki tilted his head with a condescending grin. "And who might that be?"
"Kensei Natsuki." Shuen replied. "Not only him, his descendants are also the only people that were loyal to me. Takeo Natsuki, out of my three guards… he was the only one to not fall into your hands despite being influenced by you for the longest."
"And? You're out here while he is probably dead back in your village." Oroshiki laughed manically.
Shuen grinned. "I highly doubt that."
…
…
*TWANG!*
The ringing of blades clashing rang out as Takeo stepped back from the two Elite Jōnin.
"You're not from a hidden village," one of them said calmly, adjusting his stance. "So… your chakra molding is unconventional."
The other gaze a faint smile. "Yet… it is very precise."
Takeo didn't answer.
He slid one foot back and steadied his breathing.
The first man blurred forward, Takeo immediately making his move.
"Page One, Flower Reflection."
His body shifted off center, blade angled loosely. The incoming strike aimed for his ribs met Takeo's blade and was deflected.
The Jōnin's follow up came straight after, a second blade drawn mid clash swung up at Takeo's throat. The old man tilted his head just enough for it to graze skin instead of cut him, then he pivoted.
"Page Three, Mist Draw."
His counter attack fell low and became invisible, but the second Jōnin actually managed to intercept it with a kunai.
The first Jōnin retreated two steps.
"You see that?" He muttered to his partner. "No wasted tension. He's compressing his chakra into that blade so seamlessly… hey, old man! Is that sword made entirely of chakra metal?!" He asked incredulously.
Takeo heard it, not knowing what chakra metal even was, so he just exhaled and stepped forward instead.
One of them weaved a few hand signs and multiple blades of wind flew out while the other placed both hands on the floor, causing the earth to crack beneath Takeo.
But the swordsman leapt sideways, his blade swept low.
"Page Two, Still Water Mirror."
He matched their tempo instead of fighting it. His sword met wind blades at perfect angles, either deflecting or dispersing them. He allowed the earth spikes to dictate his footwork, stepping between them as if he was controlling them.
The first Jōnin grinned.
"He's reading us like a book!"
The second disappeared.
Takeo sensed it just a little bit too late.
A fist slammed into his ribs from behind, chakra detonating in impact and sending him skidding across the sand floor. He rolled before he flew into Yukio, coughing as he forced himself upright.
They hadn't even bled yet.
Takeo wiped blood from his mouth as the two men moved again, faster this time.
The second Jōnin appeared midair, weaving hand signs.
"Fire Style : Fireball Jutsu!"
A ball of flames roared downward, Takeo dashing forward instead of defending.
"Page Four, Butterfly's Edge."
He passed beneath the flames, blade gliding across the second Jōnin's thigh. It cut, but very shallow.
The first Jōnin capitalised immediately, heel smashing into Takeo's shoulder, breaking it.
Takeo stumbled, but didn't fall.
He pivoted through the pain.
"Page Five, Shadow Invitation."
The first Jōnin took the bait, thrusting forward with his sword.
"Page Six, Shattered Reflection."
Takeo burst sideways at the last possible moment, cutting toward the blind spot.
The strike connected.
He managed to cut open the first Jōnin's side, far deeper this time.
The man stepped back in surprise, then laughed. "Incredible!"
Takeo's breathing got heavier and his shoulder throbbed in agony. But he absolutely needed to protect Yukio.