Lock stared at the Iwa-nin before him—his face a bloody mask, eyes burning with wild fury, and a sneer twisted across his lips. Lock had faced many enemies in his life, but none as deranged as this man.
He couldn't understand it. Why was this one so desperate? Could it be vengeance—some relative of an Iwa-nin he had killed earlier?
"Don't you like explosions?" the man growled. "Then taste one yourself."
Before Lock could react, the Iwa-nin's smile turned feral. Flames began to bloom from his body, small sparks swelling into a violent glow.
Lock's heart froze. That flickering light—he knew it too well.
Detonation tags.
"—You lunatic—!"
BOOOOM!
The explosion swallowed everything. A deafening roar tore through the battlefield, the ground trembling beneath thousands of feet. Even among the chaos of war, this blast drew every eye.
"Lock!"
From the command ridge, Jiraiya's face twisted in shock. His hand clenched into a fist as the fireball consumed the young shinobi's position.
Nearby, Sarutobi Shinnosuke stood frozen, his mind blank. He had been the closest to Lock—he'd seen the moment the Iwa-nin grabbed him, seen the spark ignite. He hadn't even had time to move.
"How… how could anyone choose to die like that?" he whispered, trembling.
He knew that Iwa-nin's strength. That man wasn't weak—he was an elite jōnin, easily capable of surviving the battle if he wanted to. Yet he had decided to die just to take Lock with him. That kind of madness was beyond reason.
"Please don't tell me the kid's dead…" Shinnosuke muttered, his stomach sinking. He wasn't close to Lock, but he knew what the young shinobi meant to Jiraiya—and to his father, the Hokage. If Lock had died here, right in front of him, he'd never forgive himself.
The explosion raged for several seconds before fading. Flames licked at the broken earth, smoke coiling into the crimson sky. The shock of the blast had drawn attention from both sides of the battlefield.
Jiraiya's expression hardened in grief and rage, while on the opposite flank, Ōnoki's son, Kurotsuchi's father—Huangtu, clenched his fists, his tone solemn.
"Shinki… you were truly a hero," he murmured.
The Iwa-nin commander's voice carried across the ranks. "He made the ultimate choice for the village. If he took down Konoha's prodigy, his death wasn't in vain. Honor his sacrifice—press the attack!"
The Iwa-nin roared as one, their morale ignited by the madness of Shinki's last act. They surged forward again, crashing into Konoha's lines like a wave of stone and fire.
Jiraiya stood silently for a moment, grief flickering in his eyes—but he was a commander before anything else. "Hold the line!" he shouted. "Don't let Iwa break through!"
And the war raged on.
Minutes passed. Then—
Rumble.
The scorched ground where the explosion had struck began to shift. Cracked soil split apart, and a bloodied figure clawed his way up from beneath the debris.
Cough… cough…
Lock staggered to his feet, his body drenched in soot and blood. Each breath burned his lungs.
"Damn that man…" he muttered hoarsely. "He really tried to take me with him."
He wiped the blood from his mouth, wincing. "I've used detonating tags a hundred times, but this is the first time someone's used them on me."
The flames around him had died, leaving only the smell of scorched earth and ash. Lock glanced down at his torn flak jacket—the edges blackened, fabric melted in places. The blast had nearly torn him apart.
He'd survived only because of instinct and split-second reaction. In that instant before the explosion, he'd forced chakra through his body and escaped underground, avoiding the worst of the blast. Even then, the shockwave had hit him like a hammer, shredding his skin and cracking his ribs.
If he'd hesitated even a moment longer, there'd be nothing left to bury.
Lock exhaled slowly. "There's no shortage of madmen in this world. One mistake in battle… and you're gone."
He took a long look across the battlefield. The chaos had only intensified—bodies, smoke, fire, and chakra flashes everywhere he looked.
War wasn't about duels or glory. It was chaos—blood and willpower clashing until one side broke. The man who had tried to kill him wasn't unique; there would be others like him, ready to die just to take someone down with them.
Lock adjusted his headband, the metal plate streaked with ash.
"I won't make the same mistake again."
He stepped back into the smoke-filled battlefield, his eyes calm once more—but colder than ever.
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