"Has this guy lost his mind?"
"Forget strength, just look at that overwhelming presence."
"He actually just walked straight over."
"The bearing of the greatest hero… this isn't something ordinary humans can possess."
"No wonder the shinobi and samurai of that era, whether enemy or ally, couldn't hide their respect whenever his name was mentioned!"
…
Juzo, Mangetsu, and the other members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist stared in shock as Garp treated the thousands of Mist-nin before him as if they were nothing.
He walked openly, fearlessly, straight toward the assembled Mist forces.
Even with countless Shinobi drawing weapons and glaring murderously at him, he never once stopped.
He walked right through the line of a thousand shinobi who parted before him, until he finally stood before the seven of them.
The sight made the Seven Ninja Swordsmen' hearts pound wildly.
Originally, they had thought that daring to challenge the greatest hero of the shinobi world in a moment like this already showed their extraordinary courage.
But compared to the man standing before them… they were nothing but fireflies before the moon.
"Though I'm not from Konoha, and can't command those brats from the Leaf, since I've walked all the way here… you Mist brats should be able to rest assured, shouldn't you?"
Garp stood just behind the thousand Mist-nin who had parted for him, towering in front of the Seven Swordsmen, completely surrounded on all sides by enemy forces.
"This guy…"
It wasn't just the Seven Swordsmen, even among the thousands of Mist-nin present, and even Orochimaru's group, every single person felt a chill crawl down their spine.
A single man stepping alone into the enemy's encirclement.
Though just one, he regarded thousands of soldiers as if they didn't exist.
Such spirit, such fearlessness, none who witnessed it remained unmoved.
"So this… is the Iron Fist?
Clan Leader, I think I finally understand why you called him the greatest hero of the age."
Shisui stared at Garp's back, barely visible through the layers of Mist-nin, with a face full of shock.
When Fugaku had spoken to him about Garp before, that expression of genuine admiration had seemed unbelievable.
The Uchiha's pettiness and pride were as famous in the shinobi world as their Sharingan.
Forget showing respect to an outsider like Garp, many among them even dared question Madara himself.
"…"
Fugaku didn't speak. His sharingan glowed red as he stared fixedly at Garp's back.
It was this very man who had suppressed the Uchiha clan for an entire era. Suddenly, a wave of helplessness washed through him.
Facing the Iron Fist, he realized with despair that aside from outliving him by age alone, he could think of no way for the Uchiha to surpass this insurmountable mountain standing before them.
"It feels like… no one in our entire era has ever produced someone like him…"
"Maybe only an age like the Warring States, where countless monsters rose in the flames of war, could give birth to someone like the Iron Fist."
"No matter how many eras pass, as long as he still draws breath, this era will always be his."
Orochimaru, the Ino–Shika–Cho trio, and the others exchanged glances, falling into a silent gloom.
They were all geniuses of the ninja village era, especially Orochimaru, Tsunade, and Kushina, each of them a once in decades genius.
And yet, whenever they looked at Garp's back, they felt a crushing sense of powerlessness unlike anything they had ever known.
…
"Iron Fist… you really just walked over here. Aren't you afraid that if I give the order, we'll swarm you and tear you apart?
Let me remind you, we are the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist.
The cruelest, coldest, and most treacherous shinobi of the entire Mist Village. Betraying our word is as common to us as eating breakfast."
Juzo stared at Garp from barely an arm's length away, struggling to suppress the pounding fear and chill in his chest.
The other six didn't speak. They only glared at Garp, murder radiating from every pore.
The Mist-nin lined behind them held kunai, blades, explosive tags, every tool of killing ready at hand.
Though none had attacked yet, the killing intent produced by the seven of them combined with a thousand Mist-nin surged like formless tidal waves, crashing relentlessly over Garp's body.
"It seems you've misunderstood something. I didn't come here to prove that those Konoha brats won't help me… I came so that you could feel justified attacking me openly."
Garp grinned widely.
"…"
The Seven Swordsmen fell silent for a moment, then raised their swords as one.
They were born in the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist.
Even toward fellow villagers, even their own clans' members, they had always been cold, conniving, ruthless, utterly devoid of compassion.
Yet in this moment, every one of them felt genuine respect for the man who had survived from the Warring States all the way to today.
Of course, what followed that respect… was a storm-like killing intent ready to explode.
Just as the Uchiha could not allow a monster like Garp to exist in their era, the Seven Ninja Swordsmen could not permit someone like him to stand unchallenged in the age of the hidden villages.
"Come, then. Let me see what quality this generation's swordsmen of the Mist possesses."
Garp slowly lowered the arms he had folded across his chest.
Raiga, Mangetsu, and the others exchanged glances, then struck without hesitation.
Juzo and Fuguki formed seals at the same moment. A rolling wave of thick mist surged outward, engulfing Garp, and the entire battlefield instantly.