Among Lock's recent advancements, two refinements stood out—each capable of transforming his fighting style.
The first centered on his Smoke Veil Technique. Through rigorous chakra manipulation, he had mastered how to compress the chakra density within the mist, allowing it to form and dissipate faster. With this, he could now recast the jutsu after only a few breaths instead of waiting long intervals between uses.
In effect, as long as his opponent wasn't moving at impossible speed, they would remain trapped within the blinding haze almost continuously. It was a terrifying advantage—especially against ninjutsu users who relied on visibility to form hand seals.
But such control came with a cost. The Smoke Veil consumed a large amount of chakra. Even with Lock's formidable reserves, casting it repeatedly would drain him quickly. Sustaining it in a drawn-out battle was impractical.
The second refinement focused on precision—what some would call the art of the "killing strike." Lock had trained relentlessly to channel chakra into his blade at the exact moment of contact, multiplying the lethality of each attack. When performed perfectly, the strike could devastate even armored targets.
More importantly, this refined technique could be used by Shadow Clones as well. Unlike ordinary illusions or decoys, true shadow clones carried the same chakra signature and physical strength as the original. If each of them struck with the same deadly precision, their combined attacks could overwhelm even a jōnin in moments.
Lock weighed both options carefully. The enhanced Smoke Veil offered superior defense and control—but he had no desire to hide behind smoke forever. He wasn't a support shinobi. He was a predator who thrived in silence and precision.
He finally decided to perfect the art of the killing strike.
Lock practiced the movement once more, closing his eyes and channeling chakra through his arms and into the blade. His muscles tensed, the air seemed to still—and then he struck forward, the dagger slicing cleanly through a practice log. The surface split without resistance, as if the wood itself had yielded before him.
He nodded faintly. That's it.
If he attacked from behind—using his agility and the principles of the Backstep Technique—his strike would cut deeper and faster than ever before. One clean blow from the shadows could decide the outcome of any duel.
"Here they come! Iwa-nin are approaching!"
A shout rose from the front line. Moments later, countless figures surged forward from the distance—earth-colored flak jackets flashing through the trees, the ground trembling beneath their charge. Kunai, shuriken, and blazing bursts of ninjutsu tore through the air.
The Great War had begun.
Unlike ordinary soldiers, shinobi warfare unfolded with overwhelming speed and violence. Ninjutsu lit the battlefield like lightning, and explosions of chakra ripped through the earth. Every second demanded precision.
Because Konoha's troops had already taken formation, they held the advantage of terrain. But the Iwa-nin were no fools—they had prepared for this.
Dozens of earth-style users slammed their palms into the ground at once. The terrain roared in response, surging upward like an earthquake. Sections of Konoha's ambush collapsed instantly as the battlefield reshaped itself.
Lock didn't charge in right away. He observed silently from the rear, eyes tracking movement, waiting for an opening. The clash had barely begun, yet already the fighting was brutal. Iwa-nin poured forward in waves, seemingly unafraid of death.
Konoha's defenders responded with discipline. Under their captains' orders, each squad countered precisely. Taijutsu users rushed the front, ranged specialists unleashed kunai barrages, a nd elemental jutsu from behind.
After the first several volleys of large-scale jutsu, both sides instinctively stopped using high-destruction techniques. The lines were too close now—one wrong move could kill allies as easily as enemies.
From his vantage point, Lock could see Jiraiya standing at the command post with Nara Shikaku, Mitokado Homura, and several other senior shinobi. A Hyūga clansman stood beside them, eyes activated, calling out positions of incoming Iwa units in rapid bursts.
Further back, Yamanaka Inoichi knelt in concentration, his hands clasped in a familiar seal. A cluster of shinobi guarded him closely. Lock recognized the chakra signature of the Mind Transmission Technique—a skill unique to the Yamanaka clan. Through it, Inoichi could communicate directly with every squad on the battlefield, giving real-time orders without a single word spoken aloud.
Lock remembered working with Inoichi during his brief time in Anbu—he had seen firsthand how potent that ability was. In a war like this, it was indispensable.
The battlefield stretched for kilometers now—smoke, fire, and earth blending into chaos. The ground trembled beneath the clash of jutsu; the air smelled of ozone and burning clay.
Lock exhaled quietly, adjusting the dagger in his grip.
The time for observation was over.
It was time for the hunter to move.
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