The battlefield was a land of ruin, shattered earth and dying light painting a portrait of impending doom. The sky, once open and vast, had become a prison of storm clouds, roiling with divine wrath.
Yet amidst the chaos, two beings stood unmoved, their sheer presence warping reality itself.
Chōji was no longer human. His massive frame was coated in deep blue scales, shimmering like the surface of a midnight ocean beneath the cold glow of an unseen moon. His body did not remain fixed—instead, it constantly shifted, flickering between solid and liquid states, as if he was no longer bound by the constraints of a mortal existence.
Two curved horns pulsed with an eerie glow, resonating with the abyssal power flowing through his very soul. His once warm, kind eyes had turned into glowing abyssal orbs, twin stars that swallowed all light. The air around him distorted, gravity bending to his mere presence.
Chōji's aura was a living abyss, a bottomless void that devoured everything. Wherever he stood, existence began to collapse, the world itself being pulled into his insatiable hunger.
His power was not just strength.
It was consumption.
Beside him, Kiba had become something out of a nightmare. His body had twisted and transformed, taking on the shape of an enormous wolf-like beast, his form shrouded in an inky black miasma, darker than the void itself. His once single head had split into three, each snarling with bestial rage, their mouths dripping with corrupt energy that dissolved the very ground upon contact.
His eyes burned with malice, their crimson glow like a predator gazing through the eternal night. Every breath he exhaled carried death, the air thickening with spectral whispers, as though the dead themselves howled alongside him.
Kiba's presence was no longer that of a shinobi.
He was Pluto's heir, the King of the Underworld.
Where he stood, the boundary between life and death faded. The battlefield became the Underworld, a place where souls loosened from their bodies, where the dead whispered, and the living feared for their existence.
Standing before them was Nagare Sōun, the Green King, the force of nature itself. His emerald cloak billowed violently in the rising storm winds, his sharp eyes locked onto the two beings before him.
The energy radiating from them was wrong—unnatural.
Not chakra.
Not anything mortal.
"Ōtsutsuki," he muttered, realization dawning upon him.
That single word changed everything.
He could not fight them with mere chakra. Against these transcendent monsters, his only hope was to wield pure nature energy, untainted by the limits of mortal existence.
Luckily, he was not alone.
Behind him, Toshiro raised his hands to the storm-filled sky. His body pulsed with raw lightning, his presence commanding the heavens. The clouds churned, spiraling into a vortex of destruction, as divine lightning lances gathered, condensing into spears of judgment.
With a single command, Nagare unleashed the storm.
A thousand bolts of lightning descended from the sky, each one powerful enough to shatter mountains. The battlefield became an ocean of divine destruction, crashing down upon Chōji and Kiba with the intent to erase them from existence.
But Chōji did not run.
He did not block.
He consumed.
His body expanded, growing larger and larger at a terrifying speed, until his colossal form reached the size of the moon itself.
The battlefield vanished beneath his shadow.
He opened his enormous maw, revealing rows upon rows of abyssal fangs, an endless chasm that stretched beyond dimensions.
And then—
He swallowed the lightning whole.
The attack that could erase continents was devoured, disappearing into his void-like existence. The divine storm that had once threatened to annihilate him ceased to be.
His eyes burned, locking onto Nagare with an intensity that made even the Green King take a step back.
"You took my father from me."
Chōji's voice was no longer human—it was a decree, a sound that rumbled like the voice of an oceanic immortal.
His very words sent shockwaves across the battlefield, the sheer gravity of his grief and rage causing mountains to crumble. The air twisted, the sky cracked, and reality trembled beneath his wrath.
But Kiba was not idle.
As Chōji devoured the heavens, Kiba devoured existence itself.
With a guttural snarl, the two Cerberus heads on his shoulders opened their jaws, revealing black voids of annihilation.
Then—
They roared.
A torrent of abyssal destruction surged forth, a beam of pure erasure that cut through the very fabric of reality. The lightning storm that still raged?
It was gone.
As if it had never existed.
Nagare barely had time to react before Kiba unleashed his true power.
He howled.
Not a sound.
Not a battle cry.
But an attack on the soul itself.
Nagare felt it instantly—his very spirit trembled, as though something ancient and hungry was clawing at his essence.
For a moment, he felt his soul loosening from his body, as if being torn away—dragged toward the void beyond death, the abyssal realm where Kiba reigned.
The voices of the dead joined him.
They howled alongside him.
Calling for Nagare to join them.
Nagare staggered, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.
His power was immense.
His experience was unmatched.
He was one of the greatest kings to ever walk this world.
But against these two?
For the first time in a long, long time—
Nagare felt fear.
Chōji's massive form loomed over the land, his abyssal presence distorting space itself.
He had not yet moved on.
The pain was still fresh.
The loss of his father in the Fourth Great Ninja War had left a wound in his soul that had not yet healed. It had only been a few months—too soon for the scars of war to fade, too soon for him to accept a world without his father's guiding hand.
Yet now, these people—Nagare and his forces—had shattered the fragile peace that had barely begun to take root.
They had brought war back into a world that had barely begun to heal.
And for that, he would make them pay.
Chōji's abyssal eyes locked onto Nagare Sōun, the Green King, the one who stood at the center of this madness. His burning gaze carried a weight that sent shockwaves across the battlefield, the sheer force of his emotions shaking the very air itself.
"You…" Chōji's voice was thick with grief, his words a low growl that rumbled like a coming storm.
"You took my father from me… and now you've come to take away the peace he died for?"
The air around him distorted, the ground beneath his feet cracking as his rage intensified.
His abyssal aura expanded, a bottomless void of pure destruction that began to consume the world around him. Rocks, debris, even the very light of the battlefield vanished into his presence, pulled into the infinite abyss that now burned within him.
Chōji's fists clenched, his claws digging into his palms as his rage boiled over.
He would not forgive them.
He would not let this go.
The Akimichi Clan had always been known for their kindness, their loyalty, their love for family. But now—now he would show them what happened when you took that family away.
With a thunderous roar, Chōji's body expanded once more, growing larger, his sheer size blocking out the sky itself. His abyssal maw, lined with endless rows of fangs, opened wide—a void that devoured all things.
And for the first time since his father's death—
Chōji embraced the monster within.
The battlefield stretched endlessly, a war-torn wasteland where the very laws of nature bent to the will of immortals. The air cracked with heat and froze with cold, caught between the power of two celestial titans.
On one side stood Konohamaru, the embodiment of solar divinity. His golden fur shimmered like liquid sunlight, each strand carrying the power of a dying star. His once-human form had ascended—his frame massive, his muscles sculpted from cosmic fire. Golden horns curved back from his forehead, pulsing with divine energy. His golden eyes, reminiscent of a celestial emperor, burned with the wisdom and fury of a thousand suns. Every step he took left the earth scorched and reforged, the very ground melting into molten gold beneath his feet.
Beside him, Udon was the antithesis of his radiance—the avatar of the eternal frost. His skin was now an ethereal shade of icy blue, his body adorned with frozen crystalline scales that shimmered like the Aurora Borealis. His once unassuming presence had transformed into a force of absolute winter. Jagged icy horns crowned his head, pulsating with raw, sub-zero power. His breath froze the air itself, forming intricate fractals of frost that suspended in time before vanishing into the void. His very presence warped reality, creating an ever-expanding domain where cold was not merely a temperature, but an absolute truth.
Solar Inferno met Frostborn Eternity.
The world trembled under the colliding forces of their divine auras—one burning with the might of a raging sun, the other stilling existence with the kiss of eternal ice.
Before them, Anna, the Red King, was barely human anymore. She was a living flame, her body a constantly shifting inferno, her flesh long since consumed by the flames of destruction. The ruinous essence of her power corrupted even the very space around her, warping reality into pure chaos. And yet, she was no longer in control.
Standing behind her, Toshiro, the manipulator of fate, whispered orders through the raging madness. His voice was calm, cold, and absolute.
"Destroy them."
Anna's reaction was instantaneous.
A thousand wrathful beams of annihilation erupted from her body, each carrying the power to erase existence itself. The sky ignited into a burning ocean of destruction, twisting and expanding in all directions. The air itself boiled, the battlefield becoming an infernal hellscape where even light struggled to survive.
But Udon was unshaken.
His icy gaze lifted to the approaching apocalypse, his expression remaining calm and unmoved. The air grew silent.
Then—
He exhaled.
The battlefield was consumed by absolute zero.
The flames halted in mid-air, their destruction frozen in place, unable to move, unable to spread. The inferno, so wild and uncontainable, was now suspended in time, locked within Udon's domain of winter. Even sound struggled to escape the frozen abyss he had created.
He lifted his clawed hand, flexing his fingers as if casually brushing dust from his palm.
With a single swipe, the frozen flames shattered.
Not into embers.
Not into ash.
Into absolute nothingness.
Udon's voice echoed through the battlefield. "Not today."
The moment the flames shattered, Konohamaru moved.
One second, he was still—a golden titan standing firm.
The next—
He was everywhere.
His body expanded, his form warping past mortal comprehension, his cosmic-infused fist growing larger than the sky itself. The very fabric of reality bent around his power, the atmosphere warping as his golden presence swallowed the battlefield whole.
Anna barely had time to react.
The punch landed.
It was not just a punch.
It was gravity incarnate.
The force of a collapsing star, condensed into a single strike. The impact shattered the very laws of existence, sending shockwaves through space and time as Anna's entire being was dragged downward—the battlefield itself breaking apart beneath her, pulled into the crushing embrace of a dying sun.
Her barrier cracked. Then cracked again.
More flames. More destruction. More rage.
She pushed back.
But Konohamaru's might was undeniable.
With a final, deafening roar, his golden aura erupted, enveloping her within the blazing core of the sun itself.
As the flames cleared, Konohamaru and Udon stood side by side, their opposing elements still clashing but never overwhelming one another.
Anna staggered, barely holding herself together, her very essence flickering like a dying flame.
And behind her, Toshiro remained unshaken.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Stronger than I expected…"
His voice was unreadable. Calm. Calculated.
Because he knew.
The Red King still had more to give.
And the battle was far from over.
Tenten, Moegi, Zoro, and Inari hovered in the sky, their Otsutsuki forms radiating divine power as they stared down the Silver King—the strongest of the Kings, a being who ruled over time itself. His mere presence warped reality, making the battlefield feel both stretched and compressed at the same time. Each step he took seemed to exist in multiple moments at once, as if past, present, and future bowed to his will.
Tenten had transformed into something beyond human—her long, flowing hair now gleamed with a cosmic silver hue, resembling the celestial rivers of the heavens. Her golden-ringed eyes, infused with Heavenly Insight, could now perceive all weaknesses, allowing her to see the flow of energy, structure of space, and even cracks in time itself.
Her attire had shifted into divine war regalia, woven from stardust and the light of forgotten suns. Floating behind her was the Celestial Armory, an ethereal storage dimension filled with legendary weapons from across time and space. Spears forged from dying stars, swords imbued with divine flames, and arrows that could pierce dimensions floated in her wake, ready to be summoned at will.
Tenten extended her hand, pulling forth a spear forged from the flames of the sun. The moment it left her grasp, it bent the very laws of space, warping reality as it tore toward the Silver King with devastating precision.
Moegi's transformation was equally divine but deeply connected to the primordial forces of life. Her skin now had a golden-green hue, resembling a divine tree given humanoid form, and intricate wooden patterns glowed across her arms and legs, pulsing with nature's will. Her emerald eyes shone with an ancient wisdom, infused with the World Root's Authority, giving her an absolute connection to all plant life across dimensions.
Her hair had grown longer, woven with living vines and celestial blossoms that bloomed with divine energy. Around her, titanic wooden constructs, shaped like colossal warriors of nature, hovered like guardians, ready to follow her every command.
With a wave of her hand, colossal roots erupted through space itself, appearing around the Silver King in an instant. These weren't just ordinary roots—they were dimensional anchors, capable of locking space itself, draining energy, time, and even reality from their target.
But as expected of the strongest King, the Silver King raised his hand—and time reversed.
Their attacks, instead of landing, traveled backward as if they had never been thrown in the first place. The sun spear flew back into Tenten's hand, the ancient roots receded into Moegi's grasp as if she had never summoned them.
Then, the Silver King pointed at them.
In that instant, space itself collapsed.
A black hole formed where they had stood, its gravitational pull devouring even light. The sheer force was enough to crush entire planets.
But none of them were caught.
They had moved away in time, their Otsutsuki reflexes saving them from what could have been an instant death.
Tenten exhaled, gripping her cosmic blade tightly. "He's good."
Moegi nodded, her wooden armor shifting like living bark. "Too good."
Zoro cracked his knuckles, three cosmic-infused swords hovering at his sides. His scarlet eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Good. That means this fight won't be boring."
Inari clenched his fists, light energy crackling around his body. "We just need to push him until he slips up."
The Silver King simply smiled, a glimmer of amusement in his silver irises that reflected infinity.
He wasn't worried.
Not yet.
But in a battle where even time could be defied, nothing was certain.
Only time would tell who would stand victorious.
The battlefield was silent for a moment. A deep tension hung in the air as Kurenai, Anko, Luffy, and Akuma stood against Toshiro Uzumaki, the legendary commander of the Uzumaki Clan.
Toshiro was not just any warrior—he was the father of Kushina Uzumaki and the grandfather of Naruto Uzumaki. He had lived through countless wars, seen his clan fall and rise, and now stood before them as the last pillar of their strength.
Despite his immense power, there was no fire in his eyes, only exhaustion. He looked at them with a gaze heavy with regret, yet his stance remained unwavering.
"I understand your words, but I am duty-bound to the Uzumaki Clan," Toshiro spoke calmly. "Personal feelings do not come before duty."
Kurenai's golden Otsutsuki eyes glowed, searching for any flicker of doubt in him. Anko's slitted serpent-like pupils narrowed as she clenched her fists.
Kurenai sighed, her voice sorrowful. "Toshiro… You don't have to do this. Let it go."
Anko followed, her voice carrying the weight of ancient power. "You have lost so much already. Fighting us will not bring your clan back."
But Toshiro only shook his head. "This is not about winning. This is about fulfilling my role as the guardian of the Uzumaki."
There was no room for negotiation.
The moment the battle began, the air warped around Kurenai. Her transformation was divine—terrifyingly so.
Her once-human form had ascended beyond mortality. Her long black hair now shimmered like a cosmic river, shifting between deep crimson and starry voids. A glowing golden halo floated behind her head, rotating like the wheels of fate. Her celestial **golden eyes no longer reflected the world—**they reshaped it.
At her back, a massive lotus flower bloomed, its petals crafted from pure illusionary energy that pulsed with power. Each petal contained a separate reality—some beautiful, others horrific.
With a mere whisper, Kurenai reshaped the battlefield. The land twisted, the sky shattered, and an endless jungle materialized around Toshiro.
A world without power. A world where he was just a man, no longer a warrior.
But Anko was not one for subtlety. She had become Jörmungandr's vessel, and her transformation reflected her monstrous might.
Her skin had taken on a scaly texture, deep purple and obsidian. Her hair slithered like living tendrils, and her serpent-like pupils glowed with a hunger for domination. Large black horns curved back from her head, crackling with abyssal lightning.
Coiled around her was a colossal spectral serpent, its body stretching beyond the horizon, its mouth a black void that devoured all things—including existence itself.
Anko raised her hand, and the World Serpent lunged forward—a maw of infinite darkness snapping toward Toshiro, ready to erase him from existence.
Toshiro's calm, unreadable gaze did not change.
He lifted a single hand, and the world around him froze.
The jungle shattered like delicate glass, its false reality breaking apart into dust. The World Serpent halted, its body locked in place by an unseen force.
With a mere flick of his wrist, the space around him reversed—the battlefield returning to its original, war-torn state.
The air grew unbearably cold.
Toshiro's blade gleamed with unnatural light, pulsing with spiritual energy. He raised it slowly, pointing the tip towards his enemies.
"You are immortals," he acknowledged, his voice carrying no arrogance, only acceptance. "But I am the guardian of my clan. The last one standing. That will not change."
From the tip of his blade, an enormous spectral ice dragon materialized. It was unlike any beast—its body was made of pure frozen soul energy, its wings stretched across the sky, blocking out the sun.
With a single mighty roar, the dragon surged forward, a wave of deathly cold and overwhelming force consuming everything in its path.