The wind howled through streets splintered by explosions. The air burned with smoke.
Indra stepped over a fallen enemy, blood sliding from his fingers. His Mangekyō glinted in the firelight.
"Manda—come."
A thunderclap of smoke exploded beside him. The giant serpent's head rose above the rooftops, each scale catching the glow of burning homes. The earth vibrated under its coiled mass.
"Crush them," Indra said evenly.
Manda struck forward, jaws snapping through a squad of Kirigakure swordsmen. Armor cracked like thin wood. The serpent coiled, smashing through rooftops, sending rubble raining down on fleeing enemies.
Indra raised his hand again. This time, the summoning seal glowed red and black. Three separate pillars of smoke erupted around him.
From each smoke cloud emerged a massive serpent—sleek, scaled, and crowned with a ridge of horns. Their eyes burned with predator focus. Unlike Manda's brute size, these moved low and fast.
The three Snake Princesses hissed in unison, long fangs dripping venom thick enough to sizzle on the stone.
"Go, my three princesses," Indra commanded, his voice calm but edged. "Taste the delicacy of human now."
With bursts of coil-born speed, the princesses darted out into the broken streets, each heading toward separate clusters of enemy ninja.
On the other side of the city:
The joint allied strike force regrouped near the central square. Mist-nin captains barked orders to hold the positions. Kumogakure's lightning squads stood ready, while Iwagakure's demolition unit fortified with earth walls. A mixed line of mercenary shinobi from island nations hid behind debris, scanning the alleys.
"This is the last hold," one Kirigakure commander said. "Secure the sealing scroll vault, and then torch the rest."
A Cloud shinobi in gold-trimmed armor frowned. "Why hasn't the scroll team returned?"
Before anyone answered, the walls behind them rippled—then shattered.
A scaled head tore through, fangs clamping around two shinobi in a single bite. Screams burst across the square.
From the rooftops, a second serpent dropped head-first into the formation, tail whipping through a block of soldiers. Bones broke with each wet impact.
The third princess slid under the ground, her body cracking the stone floor, rising behind archers to coil and constrict in a spray of blood.
Panic replaced formation. Orders turned into screams.
Back on Indra's street:
He moved forward without rush, his hands forming seals. Three clones of pure senjutsu chakra appeared behind him. Each replica pulsed with natural energy dense enough to distort the air.
One clone spun a sphere of roaring chakra in its palm—the Rasenegan, compressed until it whined like a drill.
The second clone filled its palm with compressed lightning, sparks whipping out violently—Chidori, pure and sharpened.
The third clone combined both—wind-wrapped lightning inside a spinning sphere of blue light.
Indra didn't waste words. The clones leapt into the chaos.
A Mist jōnin turned too late—the Rasenegan drove into his chest, grinding bone and flesh to paste before blowing him off his feet.
Another elite from Iwagakure tried to leap away, only for the Chidori to pierce through his spine—electric discharge flashing from his mouth as he collapsed.
The fused jutsu clone targeted a three-man Cloud squad—impacting the center man so hard the explosion ripped all three apart in a thirty-foot spray of shattered armor and vaporized flesh.
There was no retreat.
The allied ninjas' chatter broke apart into frantic yells:
"They're everywhere!"
"Snakes—watch the rooftops!"
"What the hell is that chakra reading?!"
Indra appeared behind a Kumogakure captain, Mangekyō spinning. With a flicker of movement, the man's head was gone—the body collapsing before the brain knew it was dead.
He didn't speak. He didn't stay. He moved to the next target—and the next—until the smell of blood was thick enough to choke.
Manda crushed an entire sandbag barricade, snapping at three retreating Mist operatives, sending their weapons clattering across the stone. One serpent princess coiled around an Iwa unit, venom slashing across their skin until they foamed at the mouth.
A Chūnin screamed and ran for an alley—only for a senjutsu clone to drop behind him, heel slamming into the back of his skull with a pop.
In the allied command tent at the docks:
Three jōnin commanders slammed a map back onto the table.
"The scroll vault team's gone dark. No reports."
"No lights from the upper city—something's tearing through our lines."
"This wasn't supposed to happen—"
A violent scream cut off the last man. The tent's shadow rippled, and then scaled coils yanked him upward, snapping his spine in a wet crack.
By night's turn, the streets belonged to Indra.
No command structure remained on the enemy side. Minors and mercenaries were scattered corpses across roofs and rivers. Major platoons lay broken under collapsed walls, their leaders dead before they could command a retreat.
There were no speeches. No negotiation. Only killing.
Indra stood in the center of the head on manda and The Snake Princesses sat beside him.
Around him, the ground was littered with enemy headbands and the bodies they once belonged to.