Kiyohara was breathing a little hard, but behind the mask his expression stayed calm.
With Steel Release Kiyohara's "accelerated digestion" helping him, his chakra had recovered quite a bit.
But it was all overdraft.
Like overclocking a computer: you can push performance far beyond normal for a short time, but keep doing it and the hardware gets damaged.
So after this fight, Kiyohara would definitely need several days of solid rest.
He could feel the fatigue piling up—the kind that comes from repeated high-intensity combat and staying mentally stretched tight for too long.
Still, the gains were real.
His combat experience now left his old self in the dust.
If he took the "stats screen" he had before the Kannabi Bridge mission and fought his former self, he could win with nothing but simple taijutsu.
But—
Kiyohara looked off in one direction, pulled off the black mask, and revealed his handsome face.
Sweat still clung to his skin; he'd clearly burned a lot of stamina.
The lime powder was gone, the fog had dispersed—there was no point keeping the mask on.
He'd sensed a powerful, cold chakra signature with unmistakable killing intent—cutting through the scattered skirmishes on the outskirts and coming straight at him at terrifying speed.
After stacking Yang affinity over and over, Kiyohara's sensing talent had grown sharp enough that he didn't even need Steel Release Kiyohara to warn him anymore.
"I've got a serious one coming…"
His eyes narrowed. That speed was ridiculous—nearly on par with his own burst acceleration using repulsion.
Unless he added Konoha Body Flicker on top, he might not even outrun the guy.
A Mist specialist in speed?
In the next instant, a figure vaulted out of a burst of water spray and landed ten meters ahead of him.
Suiryū Kūsora locked onto Kiyohara immediately.
No wasted words—his ninjatō was already drawn, the blade shimmering with waterlight, packed with highly condensed Water-Style chakra.
"Your farce ends here."
His voice was as cold as his gaze.
Kiyohara could feel the pressure rolling off him—far beyond any Mist jōnin he'd fought so far.
This was a genuine elite: every movement stripped down to killing efficiency, honed by countless battles.
I should withdraw.
That thought flashed through Kiyohara's mind.
He'd already achieved his goals—stalling, creating chaos, harvesting merit and supplies. More than enough.
If he left now, he had a good chance of shaking this monster with speed and terrain and returning safely to Konoha line.
But—
His eyes passed over Suiryū Kūsora as if looking through the battlefield itself—toward the distant area where several strong chakra signatures clustered around what had to be a command point.
If he could—if he could kill the commander there and collapse Mist's control of this sector completely—
The chaos and war credit from that would be enormous.
With a feat like that, jumping ranks to jōnin would be almost guaranteed.
His access to jutsu, resources, and permissions would change overnight.
Maybe—if he piled up enough truly exceptional merit—he could even petition to view the Scroll of Seals, the vault of forbidden techniques and secrets.
Namikaze Minato, a commoner, had been permitted to learn a technique as lost as Flying Thunder God because his talent and war record were undeniable.
Risk and reward seesawed inside Kiyohara like a violently swinging scale.
One last big haul before I go.
Decision made.
He still had gas in the tank.
He couldn't just walk away.
The closer Uchiha Madara's scheme drew, the more urgently he needed power—fast. If he wanted to keep Rin alive, or even keep himself alive, he had to climb higher.
If he retreated now, he'd still earn merit—enough to trade for some jutsu, sure—but it wouldn't be enough to push him into jōnin territory and unlock real access.
Too many of his techniques couldn't be shown openly.
And becoming jōnin wasn't just about strength—it was credentials. Knowledge, record, and being acknowledged by the Hokage or the core leadership.
Even Naruto, strong enough to flip the world, remained a genin because he lacked the formal qualifications.
At the end of Shippuden, after losing an arm, Naruto still had to cram theory.
Even Kakashi—called a genius—completed tons of high-difficulty missions before being promoted early. Neji had a similar exception after outstanding service during the Gaara rescue.
Between chūnin and jōnin there was also that transitional tier—special jōnin—people with a standout specialty who weren't fully rounded like true jōnin.
My record is clean. It's wartime. If I pull this off… I'm almost there.
Kiyohara's mind raced.
Suiryū Kūsora's killing intent hit like a tide. Kiyohara didn't back away—his hands flew through seals as his other hand slipped into his pouch.
Seeing that motion, Suiryū Kūsora blurred—his body turning into a nearly invisible waterline as he lunged forward at a speed beyond anything Kiyohara had faced.
Water Flow Body Flicker.
A flash of steel—straight for Kiyohara's throat.
But at the instant the blade was about to kiss skin—
A thin, square sheet of black sand-iron snapped into place, almost like paper.
Whrrr—whrrr—
One sheet became another, then another—forming a wall of black "sandpaper" between them.
Kūsora's brow tightened. Paper-thin sand-iron wouldn't stop his slash.
So he cut through—planning to split the sand-iron, then follow through and take Kiyohara's head—
And then his blade felt a strange vibration.
He glanced down—
A dazzling flare erupted.
BOOM!
A chain of thunderous explosions detonated right in front of him.
Fire roared skyward, smoke rolled in waves, and the shockwave blasted outward in a sphere—mixed with lethal shards of heated sand-iron scattering like grapeshot.
The ground cratered into a scorched pit; nearby trees were shredded and ignited in an instant.
Suiryū Kūsora retreated fast, forcing Water Flow Flicker again to amplify his evasive burst.
Even so, the edge of the blast clipped him.
Hot sand-iron fragments scraped across his cheek and arm, leaving searing pain.
He landed at distance, staring at the boiling fireball and smoke, and for the first time his face showed genuine disbelief.
"Madman—! Is this guy insane?!"
Wrapping sand-iron around explosive tags so it looked like a normal Magnet Release technique…
Was he not afraid of miscontrol? Or getting hit before it fully triggered—blowing himself into paste?
At point-blank range, both sides eat the same explosion!
To Kūsora, it was unheard of—an extreme "suicide defense," trading absolute danger for absolute deterrence and a brutal counter window.
As the smoke thinned, Kūsora saw Kiyohara still standing at the edge of the pit.
His outer armor was wrecked in places, revealing the chainmail underneath and the clear lines of his physique—
But aside from that… he had no visible injuries.
Kūsora's eyes narrowed.
"How…?"
"Surprised?" Kiyohara smiled.
In the instant of the blast, Steel Release had taken over, hardening him to tank the shock and shrapnel.
Kiyohara could harden to reduce damage.
Kūsora was still flesh and blood.
Then Kiyohara formed seals again.
More of those black sand-iron "pages" rose up and began orbiting around him, slowly swimming through the air—
Almost assembling into a circular shield.
After toying with "flying blades" and magnetically driving the executioner-sword fragment, Kiyohara had found something even better.
And it was cheap in chakra: sand-iron just had to carry the thin explosive tags.
He called it—
Magnet Release: Iron Sand Explosive Tag Mode.
Then he could fling those sand-iron tags out and trigger explosions on command.
The only real drawback was money.
A pure "cash build."
But Kiyohara was fighting on enemy supplies—these tags came off Mist bodies.
Taken from Mist. Used on Mist.
Converted into Kiyohara's war merit.
Kūsora's eyes went wide.
"You're trying to kill me?"
"Ask my explosive tags if they're okay with you living," Kiyohara said lightly.
Everyone was fighting to live—if you had complaints, take them up with the tags.
Kūsora's expression sank.
His specialty was high-speed close-quarters assassination, but this shameless "booby-trap shell" gutted his Water Flicker advantage.
Every dive could slam him into an explosive tag.
Even if he dodged in time or threw up Water Style to block, it would wreck his rhythm, drain chakra, and risk injury.
"Explosive tags run out."
Kūsora's voice dropped as his hands flew through seals.
"Water Style: Hiding in Mist Technique!"
Dense fog burst outward from him, swallowing nearly a hundred meters.
In Mist's signature assassination environment, his Water Flow Flicker would be boosted to its maximum.
But Kiyohara reacted faster.
The moment the mist rose, he moved—
Repulsion and Konoha Body Flicker stacked together, turning him into a black lightning streak ripping through the fog.
The sand-iron explosive tags spun around him as he ran, the violent airflow carving a brief corridor of clarity in the mist.
Kūsora's Water Flicker launched too—he split into multiple waterlike afterimages in the fog, trying to intercept and cut Kiyohara off.
But then he realized—
Kiyohara wasn't aiming for him.
He was aiming past him—toward scattered Mist chūnin and genin squads along the route.
"Stop him!"
"Careful!"
Shouts rang out in the fog.