Mist Village launched a full-scale invasion—officially.
And this time, it came with a despair-inducing, overwhelming force: the Six-Tails, Saiken!
A gigantic, horrific tailed beast—massive as a colossal slug—came ashore on the coastline.
Faced with power on that level, genin and chūnin no longer mattered. Only jōnin could even begin to hold the line.
Its corrosive acid spray and brute strength tore a gaping hole through Konoha's carefully constructed main defensive line in an instant.
This was what it meant to be a tailed beast—what Hashirama Senju once believed could "balance" the world into peace:
A weapon of war.
Rumble—!!
Kiyohara burst out of his tent just in time to see a crimson sphere slam into the distant mountain range.
Then came the roar of mist and wind—the thunderous impact shredding all the fog in the area.
Fog had lost all meaning.
Under the tailed beast's power, the Mist shinobi didn't bother with stealth anymore.
They charged head-on.
And up ahead, a giant purple snake rose.
The mist clinging to it dispersed, revealing a colossal, winding body—its size not inferior to the Six-Tails at all.
A figure stood atop it.
The turbulent wind whipped his long black hair, exposing the magatama earrings at his ear.
Orochimaru.
Even from far away, Kiyohara could make out several shattered gates carved with demonic-asura reliefs.
Rashōmon.
He understood immediately—Orochimaru must have used Summoning: Triple Rashōmon the moment it started, barely managing to deflect the trajectory of the tailed beast's Tailed Beast Bomb.
The Six-Tails was probably still just a "child," unable to withstand too much tailed beast chakra.
Kiyohara stared at the roaring monster and guessed the current Six-Tails' jinchūriki was likely Utakata.
Utakata was three or four years younger than Kakashi—still physically immature.
Could Mist really force a tailed beast like that into action?
Or was this Madara's handiwork?
Kiyohara kept watching and saw Orochimaru summon a dense swarm of venomous snakes, sending them to tear at the Six-Tails.
Around them: tongues of fire, thunderous lightning, surging torrents—dazzling elemental techniques everywhere.
But—
The damage to the Six-Tails was limited.
And Mist still had two tailed beasts.
Had the Three-Tails' jinchūriki joined the battle as well?
This was a true clash of the powerful.
Even with Magnet Release and Steel Release, against tailed beasts and a full-scale war, individual strength still felt tiny.
He needed to become stronger—faster.
Given enough time, he could reach that level too.
Kiyohara's squad held a secondary line on the flank, so the pressure here was lighter than at the main front.
He could still hear Nara Shikadan shouting orders, trying to get commands to as many shinobi as possible.
"Abandon the current positions! Emergency retreat to the second inland defensive line! Gather routed troops along the way and fall back with all critical intel!"
"So we're abandoning it after all…"
Kiyohara watched comrades retreat in panic, battered and disheveled.
But even retreat couldn't be a mindless stampede.
Some shinobi had to stay behind—fighting while withdrawing—to buy time for the rear.
Only by pulling back in an organized manner to the second line could they minimize casualties.
The Great Ninja War had entered a "fixed pool" era:
Kill one shinobi, and the world simply had one fewer.
Every nation was trying to preserve its living strength.
The Land of Fire was in such dire straits because it was being dogpiled from every side. In a true one-on-one great-nation war, it wouldn't be weaker than anyone.
As Kiyohara assessed the battlefield, a sudden rush of wind and metal clashing erupted from the forest flank.
"Kiyohara—watch your side!"
Kurenai's frantic shout came first, followed by Genma flicking a burst of senbon, knocking two kunai out of the air.
Three Mist shinobi slipped through a gap in the collapsing line, clearly aiming to harass the retreating flank.
The leader wore a Mist Anbu mask and moved soundlessly; the other two were dressed like standard chūnin. They advanced in a coordinated triangle.
"Genjutsu: Tree Bind Death!"
Kurenai reacted instantly, forming seals.
The foremost Mist chūnin froze mid-step, eyes clouding with confusion—like trees had sprouted from nowhere to bind him.
In the next instant, Genma flashed behind him, driving senbon into his throat.
The moment the remaining two faltered at their comrade's sudden collapse, Kiyohara moved.
A repulsive burst from Magnet Release kicked up under his feet, the ground trembling—his speed spiked like a black arrow skimming the earth.
When the Mist Anbu slashed, Kiyohara didn't dodge.
He drew and blocked.
Kang!
The Anbu's blade was knocked aside; his hand went numb.
Horror flashed in his eyes—too late.
Kiyohara drove his blade straight into the Anbu's abdomen.
"Kh—!"
The Anbu was flung back, crashing into and snapping a small tree before slumping to the ground.
The last Mist chūnin panicked and tried to retreat while tossing a smoke bomb—Kiyohara was already there, cutting off the escape.
A fingertip tapped the chūnin's wrist. Magnet Release tugged at the metal tools on his body, warping his motion.
Then Kiyohara beheaded him in one clean stroke.
Kurenai exhaled, rushing to Kiyohara. Only when she saw he was fine did her tense face loosen.
"Mist shinobi have infiltrated all the way here…"
Genma sheathed his short blade and wiped sweat from his brow.
"The gaps are getting bigger. Kiyohara—we need to regroup with the retreating force, fast."
Kiyohara squatted immediately, checking the three Mist bodies with practiced efficiency, shoving anything useful—gear, scrolls—into his pouch.
"I know."
It was time to withdraw.
But he wanted one last haul.
"You two go ahead. I'll handle the mission. There are still comrades fighting for their lives—I can't leave that quickly."
He didn't say the rest out loud:
At least let me stack more merits and fill my sealing scroll.
He needed merit points.
He needed more contributions, more recorded achievements, to exchange for more jutsu.
That was how he could "legitimize" the techniques he carried.
As time went on, he'd inherit and record more and more jutsu from different futures.
He couldn't keep claiming every single one came from looting enemy scrolls.
A few? Maybe.
Too many? Only an idiot would believe it.
So merit points were non-negotiable.
There were usually two kinds: confirmed enemy kills, and overall achievement evaluations.
Because shinobi weren't like regular soldiers—chopping off an ear or a head, or taking a forehead protector, proved little.
A genin head and a jōnin head weren't inherently different.
That was why Kiyohara always stripped the flak jackets.
It wasn't just money—it was proof of rank, used in merit calculation.
Genin weren't even allowed to wear the standard flak jacket; at most they wore better chainmail underneath.
"Don't worry," Kiyohara added. "If I want to leave, no one here can stop me."
Unless the Six-Tails decided to carpet-bomb him nonstop with Tailed Beast Bombs, no ordinary shinobi could catch him.
With Magnet Release acceleration, his speed was absurd.
He was effectively the fastest "body flicker" in this outpost.
From testing: if he stacked Leaf Body Flicker with repulsion-boost acceleration, his speed could spike into a new tier.
The more chakra he burned, the faster he could go.
With triple-jōnin-level chakra, he could fire off Konoha Body Flicker many times.
But if he pushed speed too far, he couldn't fully control it.
A shinobi's combat ability wasn't just chakra—movement control, neural reflexes, and tactical judgment mattered too.
Too much speed, and even his reflexes, reaction time, and dynamic vision would lag behind.
Even though his reactions had been boosted through multiple inheritances, it still wasn't enough.
The more he felt it, the more he understood—
Why only Minato could truly master Flying Thunder God, and why even Tobirama admitted Minato was faster.
Because Minato's nervous system was freakishly responsive.
"…!"
Genma, arriving just behind, heard Kiyohara's righteous-sounding speech and instinctively gave a thumbs-up.
Damn—this was a true inheritor of the Will of Fire!
Even at this point, he still cared about comrades.
The ninja code's most important rule was "complete the mission even if you die."
It never said "save comrades even if you die."
"But— but—"
Kurenai hadn't expected him to say it so bluntly.
"I've learned really strong genjutsu too!"
She pumped a small fist, as if to say: don't underestimate me.
"My speed is way above yours. You staying here will only interfere."
Kiyohara said it simply.
At his speed, he could loot, pull back, and still catch up—maybe even arrive before Kurenai and Genma.
If they stayed, they'd just get in his way.
"…No."
Kurenai stared at him and shook her head.
Bickering was one thing—she didn't want him to actually get himself killed.
"If you die… who's going to give me those super-sweet lollipops?"
She mumbled it awkwardly.
A curl of black hair fell across her flawless face.
"Got it."
Kiyohara nodded.
"I know you're worried. But retreat. Quickly."
He turned to look at Kurenai.
In her shinobi gear and chūnin flak jacket, with dark chainmail underneath, her frame was slim and graceful—her figure just beginning to take shape.
"I— I'm a comrade. Caring about a comrade is normal!"
Kurenai's face flushed as she hurried to deny it.
"Why are you talking like Asuma? Did he teach you those greasy lines?"
In her mind, Asuma was still the rebellious, useless Hokage's son.
If not for Kiyohara as a comparison, she wouldn't even think much of it.
But after getting used to Kiyohara's face… looking at Asuma felt like going from a luxury set meal to plain porridge.
"Then why don't you worry about Genma?"
Kiyohara's gaze flicked to Genma.
Genma was scanning for enemies—he had no interest in the banter.
Then he noticed both of them looking at him and blinked in confusion.
Wait—why am I involved?
"He doesn't have your level of 'enlightenment.'"
Kurenai answered instantly.
Genma wanted to argue, but… she wasn't wrong.
Staying behind alone, helping comrades, then retreating.
That mindset was as insane as Kiyohara's flirting skills.
If Kurenai weren't here, Genma would've saluted him on the spot.
Legend.
"Heh heh… Kiyohara-kun is right."
A voice drifted in from behind.
A figure stepped out.
All three recognized him immediately.
Orochimaru.
He narrowed his eyes, watching the distant battle—blood and fire roaring.
The air itself was full of screams.
"Orochimaru-sama."
For a moment, Kiyohara wasn't sure whether this was Orochimaru's main body or a shadow clone.
Or whether the Orochimaru on Manda's head, and this Orochimaru, were both clones.
"You're wondering whether I'm a shadow clone or the real one?"
Orochimaru licked his lips.
Shadow clones were hard to distinguish—you could only guess by experience, and confusion was common.
Without waiting for Kiyohara to answer, he said calmly, "This is only a shadow clone. My main body is still fighting. This time, we'll lose more shinobi than even the Uzushio battle."
There was weight in Orochimaru's voice.
Life really was that fragile.
Ever since he watched Nawaki get blown apart by a single explosive tag right in front of him, Orochimaru had understood that truth in his bones.
Once you die… you have nothing.
"Orochimaru-sama…"
Kurenai and Genma glanced at him.
With their status, they couldn't exactly argue with Orochimaru.
"You two, leave."
Orochimaru waved them off.
This line failing was only a matter of time.
Jiraiya was also on the way to reinforce; the real Mist main force was what they were resisting.
The excess Mist shinobi were simply spilling into secondary zones.
Seeing Kiyohara's firm eyes, Kurenai opened her mouth—then swallowed her protest.
She understood he had a point. In a chaotic retreat, speed differences really could drag people down.
"…Then promise me you'll come back alive."
Kurenai bit her lip, pulled a small signal flare from her kit, and shoved it into Kiyohara's hand.
"If you face something you can't handle, fire it. I— we'll get to you as fast as we can."
"Don't worry."
Kiyohara gripped the flare and smiled in a way that actually reassured.
"You know my 'body flicker,' right? Once I've packed everything—cough—once I've helped everyone, I'll catch up immediately."
Genma slapped Kiyohara's shoulder and said solemnly, "Take care. We'll follow Shikadan's orders, gather the routed troops along the way, and wait for you at the second line."
They didn't hesitate anymore, turning and merging into the organized retreat.
"Heh heh… Kiyohara-kun. A little gift."
After they left, Orochimaru suddenly opened his mouth and spat out a square box.
Click. Inside was a tube of white solution.
Even with the battlefield noise screaming in the background, Kiyohara's heart jumped.
Just seeing that vial, he had a pretty good idea what it was.
Aside from Orochimaru-Style Substitution—that "shed skin and recover" trick—Orochimaru also had rapid healing and abnormal chakra recovery.
The white snake symbolized luck and regeneration. In a chakra world, that wasn't just symbolism—it was a real, terrifying power.
When Orochimaru was young and saw a white snake shed its skin in front of Hiruzen, he began researching it obsessively.
Eventually, driven by his obsession with immortality, he extracted that power from white snake cells and genes.
In the future—or even now—his true main body would become something like the "White Great Serpent."
Even when he used Living Corpse Reincarnation, the act resembled a white snake slithering into a new vessel.
No matter what body he wore, he could restore himself quickly.
In other words: a high-grade HP/MP recovery consumable.
Orochimaru tossed it. Kiyohara caught it.
The tube was cold—icy to the touch.
Kiyohara stared at the white liquid inside. It looked like snow.
Then Orochimaru spoke, confirming the guess:
"This is something I extracted from white snake cells and genes. It's still being refined, but in an emergency, it should still give you some support."
Orochimaru's lips curled as he said it.