Inoiki lowered his hand slightly, eyes still gleaming with determination.
"With that one gone," he muttered, "none of the others can be repaired."
He didn't pause to celebrate. The moment the Naraka Path was destroyed, Inoiki turned his attention toward another faint trace of chakra — one belonging to the Asura Path, the mechanized body of Pain.
He flew swiftly across the rooftops, scanning the area with acute precision until he reached the spot where his line of sight had previously been lost. There, just ahead, he spotted movement — the Asura Path, running alongside the Human Path, both retreating together.
Inoiki's eyes narrowed. His body shimmered — and in the next instant, he teleported once more.
He appeared right beside the Asura Path, the sudden burst of energy cracking the tiles beneath his feet. But the Asura Path was already aware of his approach; through the shared vision of Nagato's hidden observer, it had seen Inoiki materialize.
Instantly, its left arm shifted, transforming into a rotating saw-blade, which it swung viciously toward Inoiki's neck.
Clang!
The two blades met with a shower of sparks — the Asura Path's saw clashing against Inoiki's floating sword, which hovered at his side, guided by his mind. The force of the impact rippled through the air.
But before the Paths could recover, Inoiki's expression hardened.
"Let's slow things down a bit."
In that moment, a heavy pressure filled the air. The ground cracked beneath their feet as Inoiki manipulated gravity itself within the area around him. A crushing gravitational force pressed down on the battlefield, instantly suppressing both the Asura and Human Paths. Their movements became sluggish and strained, their limbs barely able to rise against the overwhelming weight.
That brief moment of helplessness was all Inoiki needed.
His psychokinetic control surged outward again, commanding the storm of blades still hovering nearby. The weapons spun violently, forming another razor-sharp cyclone that descended upon the two immobilized bodies.
Within moments, both the Asura Path and Human Path were shredded apart, their remains scattering into dust and fragments of chakra-infused metal.
Inoiki straightened his posture as the last of the blades slowed and hovered silently around him once more. Three of the Six Paths of Pain had now been destroyed — and with Naraka gone, there would be no coming back for them.
Although Inoiki's long-range sensory abilities were being disrupted by the Rain Tiger Technique that Nagato had cast over Amegakure, he still possessed one crucial advantage — he could sense every blade that he controlled with his psychokinesis. Each weapon carried a faint thread of his chakra, a distant extension of his will.
That was precisely why he had deliberately left several blades scattered across the battlefield — each one lingering near the places where he had lost sight of the different Paths of Pain. Through them, he could track subtle movements and disturbances, using his own creations as makeshift sensory beacons.
Without delay, Inoiki flashed forward, moving at blinding speed across the rooftops. In a heartbeat, he appeared atop another tall building — the same area where he had last seen the Animal Path vanish.
The air around him was thick with mist and rain. The heavy storm clouds above made the world feel dim and suffocating, but Inoiki's enhanced vision cut through the gloom. His eyes glowed faintly, illuminated by the psychic energy flowing through him as he scanned every shadow, every alleyway, searching for even the slightest trace of movement.
Yet despite his precision and focus, nothing appeared. The Animal Path was nowhere in sight.
Clicking his tongue softly, Inoiki descended from the rooftop and began to move swiftly through the narrow streets, scanning each block with his short-range sensory field.
He darted from one street to another, his boots splashing lightly against puddles as he ran. His psychokinetic awareness extended in all directions, allowing him to feel the structure of the houses nearby — every wall, door, and shattered window. He could tell with certainty that there were no chakra signatures hiding inside any of them.
Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the patter of rain and the faint hum of chakra coursing through his veins.
Then, without warning, a sharp metallic sound sliced through the air.
Whoosh—clang!
A chain and sickle came flying from the shadows, the blade glinting through the mist. Instinctively, Inoiki raised his sword and parried the strike. Sparks scattered as steel met steel.
From the darkness, a familiar figure emerged — Tobi, or rather, Obito Uchiha, his single Sharingan glowing ominously through the mask. His voice was low and calm, but his movements were anything but.
He swung the chain again with deadly precision, following up with a spinning strike aimed straight at Inoiki's head.
Inoiki reacted instantly. His sword — guided by a mix of skill and psychokinesis — intercepted the blow perfectly. The sound of metal clashing filled the air, sharp and relentless.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The two combatants exchanged a flurry of blows, each strike faster and more forceful than the last. Tobi's chain whipped and curved through the air with brutal grace, while Inoiki countered every attack with impeccable timing and masterful swordsmanship.
Around them, the narrow street began to crumble under the force of their duel. Walls cracked, tiles shattered, and debris scattered as shockwaves from their strikes tore through the rain-soaked air.
Inoiki and Tobi moved like two storms colliding — one of steel, one of shadow — and the once-quiet district of Amegakure was now a chaotic battlefield of sparks, steel, and psychic force.
The rhythmic clash of metal against metal filled the air — ding, ding, ding — as Inoiki's blade met the chained sickle in Tobi's hand. Their movements were sharp and fluid, each attack countered with perfect precision. The rain-soaked air shimmered from the force of their strikes, sparks leaping every time steel connected.
Then, in the midst of that relentless rhythm, Inoiki's eyes flickered, his focus narrowing to a razor's edge. In an instant, the invisible force around him intensified.
With a mere thought, he increased the gravity within a tight radius around his body. The air itself seemed to warp under the sudden weight.
Obito — or Tobi — faltered. His movements slowed, the chain's momentum interrupted as the crushing gravity distorted his balance. And before he could recover, a blade shot in from the side, cutting through the air like a streak of silver lightning.
Slash!
The blade sliced clean through Tobi's right arm, severing it at the shoulder. His hand — still gripping the sickle — fell to the ground with a dull metallic clang, blood scattering into the rain.
Inoiki's expression didn't waver. The severed arm didn't matter — he had no intention of stopping there. With another mental command, the storm of blades that had been circling nearby converged, their sharp edges glinting ominously as they moved in for the kill.
The metallic tornado rushed toward Tobi, aiming to tear him apart completely.
But Tobi, ever the survivor, reacted with perfect timing. His Sharingan flared, and in the blink of an eye, his body became intangible.
"Kamui."
The blades passed straight through him, carving deep lines in the ground but doing nothing to his intangible form. The psychic storm dissipated harmlessly, leaving Tobi standing untouched in the middle of the devastation — save for his missing arm.
(Ai generated image in Comments area.)
He didn't scream. He didn't curse. Instead, his voice came out in the same casual, mocking tone of his "Tobi" persona.
"Anyway," he said nonchalantly, tilting his head as if nothing had happened, "my work here is done. Bye."
Before Inoiki could react, Tobi's body shimmered and sank beneath the ground, phasing away like a ghost fading from existence.
But those parting words — "my work here is done" — rang in Inoiki's mind like a warning.
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