Ōnoki's words silenced everyone. Among the shinobi gathered below, many of the older veterans who had survived the Third Great Ninja War wore expressions of heavy nostalgia.
Everyone fell into deep thought.
Yes… At some point, the villagers began forgetting those who had sacrificed everything for them.
In contrast, the younger generation struggled to understand. They had never experienced the Third Great Ninja War. They didn't know its cruelty, had never heard endless wailing, had never seen a world reduced to rubble and corpses.
Their "understanding" came only from textbook summaries about the heroes who gave their lives for the village. And those who died in the shadows — the ones never recorded in history — were destined to be forgotten altogether.
Meanwhile, these same youths ate comfortably at their tables and cursed the descendants of the fallen, striking blindly with words sharp as blades, driven by emotion and ignorance.
Ōnoki looked down at the silent crowd. Some faces held guilt, others indifference, and a few burned red with grievance, as if blaming him.
As if asking again:
Why would the Tsuchikage defend a defected ninja?
A sudden panic gripped his chest, countless thoughts crashing through his mind.
When… when had the younger generation become like this?
Where was Iwagakure's Will of Stone?
Where had that unshakable resolve gone?
Too many had become loud, thoughtless, repeating words like ignorant parrots.
"Old man, that's enough. I shouldn't have come back."
Deidara's voice held nothing but loss — raw, unhidden, impossible to disguise.
"No…" Ōnoki lifted his trembling right hand toward him, wanting to speak, wanting to explain.
But being Tsuchikage — being the village's leader — became shackles that sealed his mouth shut.
Powerlessness crushed him.
"Old man, I came back this time to show you my newest art."
"I'm afraid this is my last chance to show you."
"What is true art…?"
Unnoticed, two thin trails of tears slid down Deidara's cheeks before the wind carried them away.
The gloom in his eyes faded, the sadness fell away — replaced by a soft kind of love… and a madness that could not be described.
He opened his palms and reached for the clay pouch at his waist.
The sound of chewing came from the mouths in his hands until they could take no more. Impatience and mania twisted across his face, visible to all.
"Not enough… not enough…"
His muttering slithered from his lips like a devil's whisper.
Before everyone's eyes, Deidara grabbed another handful of white clay — and stuffed it directly into his own mouth.
The wet, crunching sound made many young shinobi gag on the spot.
Even Ōnoki felt a flash of confusion.
What was he planning with that much explosive clay?
Was he truly going to destroy Iwagakure?
Suspicion is human nature. Once planted, trust collapses…
Deidara noticed the flicker of doubt in Ōnoki's eyes, and it pierced straight through him like a blade.
Old man… even you don't trust me anymore…
That's right. You're the Tsuchikage. You have to think of the village. You can't ignore a potential threat.
Deidara stepped onto his giant clay bird and flew toward the village's border — toward a high, towering mountain.
A horrifying realization struck Ōnoki.
A mountain… explosive clay…
He's going to blow the mountain apart — let the landslide crush Iwagakure!!!
"Deidara, STOP!" Ōnoki shouted in panic.
"Iwagakure isn't just me — it's the home your father died protecting!"
"I won't let you!"
Hearing that shattered the last spark of hope in Deidara's chest. The muddy water of doubt snuffed out every bit of light that remained.
He reached into his pouch and tossed a cluster of clay dolls into the air.
"C1 — Clay Spiders!"
"C2 — Dragon!"
The white clay swelled rapidly, forming a ten-meter-long, grotesque yet strangely cute flying dragon. Dozens of half-human-sized spiders clung to its back before dropping down like rain.
"Old man! Chase me or save them — your choice!"
"Hahahaha!!!"
His hysterical laughter forced Ōnoki to halt and turn back. Pressing his hands together, he faced the falling spiders.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Technique!"
A transparent cube formed around him. With sweeping motions of his hands, he erased the clay spiders one by one — and finally disintegrated the massive C2 dragon above.
By then, Deidara had reached the hundred-meter mountain. He hovered above it, palms facing down, mouth open wide.
Clay poured from his mouth in a white waterfall, piling up and taking shape — forming a giant clay doll… one that looked exactly like Deidara himself.
"This…"
After eliminating the last spider, Ōnoki turned — and froze.
A massive Deidara clone stood atop the mountain, its empty eyes staring lifelessly ahead. It was so large it covered half the peak.
"DEIDARA! STOP!!!" Ōnoki roared.
Behind him, the shinobi stared in despair.
"It's over… With a blast that big, he'll wipe out the whole area."
"Damn it, I knew it! How could a guy obsessed with explosions ever want to come home?"
"Hmph! Once a traitor, always a traitor! They're all the same!"
Their insults buzzed in Deidara's ears like swarms of mosquitoes, grating and unbearable.
"Shut up already. You're all so damn noisy."
"Let me show you my ultimate art…"
"C4 — GARUDA!"
He pressed his thumb and index finger together.
"Drink!!!"
The enormous clay doll began expanding — and death crept over the village like a cold shadow.
Ōnoki gathered chakra at his palm, frantic.
Faster… faster!!!
But each second vanished uselessly. Horror struck him.
He wouldn't make it.
At the moment he lost hope, the growing Garuda suddenly collapsed with a soft "puff," disappearing as if nothing had ever been there.
Ōnoki's tense nerves loosened instantly. Behind him, shinobi screamed with relief.
"Hah! Traitor trash. Can't even fire his own jutsu!"
"So embarrassing!"
"Wait… hey—LOOK! What is THAT!?"
Fingers pointed toward where Garuda vanished.
The mountain… was disappearing.
Bit by bit, like a drawing being erased from existence. Dust drifted away on the wind.
Deidara watched quietly as the effect spread, guiding his clay bird higher — slipping into the clouds as he admired his silent masterpiece.
Until the mountain vanished completely.
"Goodbye, Iwagakure. Goodbye… old man."
"This is my final gift… before I leave."
(…｡•́︿•̀｡)
-------
Send Power Stones
Bonus Chapter at 150 Power Stone
Second Bonus Chapter - 300 Power Stones
---------------------
Join my Patreon and get access to 50+ early chapters before anyone else! 🔥
https://www.patreon.com/UK21
Your Support is Truly Appreciated