The battlefield was a storm of chaos, the heavens split apart by the crackling energy of Nagare's Lightning Giant Form, a colossus of thunder and wrath that illuminated the darkness of war. His erasure abilities, meant to reduce his foes to nothingness, clashed violently with the abyssal devouring of Chōji and the underworld's pull from Kiba. The three titanic forces nullified one another, leaving behind only raw power—a contest of sheer might.
But Nagare was at a disadvantage. He had lost too many of his soldiers, his strength waning after his battle with the shinobi forces. The weight of loss settled over him, yet his rage burned even brighter.
"Why are you doing this?" Nagare growled, his emerald lightning flashing through the clouds, striking like divine punishment. His voice carried both anger and exhaustion, his heart torn between vengeance and regret. "We only wanted revenge against those who erased us from history! But you—you had to interfere! Look at what you've done! How many pointless deaths have you caused?" His voice cracked as his eyes blazed with fury. "The world is on the verge of annihilation, and you made it into a fight! We were meant to fight the Otsutsuki! But instead, you forced our hand, and now everything we built is crumbling!"
Kiba did not flinch.
Leaping through the air, he dodged the storm-forged chains Nagare sent hurtling toward him. The howling winds of the battlefield matched his own growling rage, but he kept himself composed—barely. His Pluto Form pulsed with unstable, primal fury, his transformation making it harder to hold back his bloodlust.
With a snarl, Kiba retaliated.
"Chaos Rights: Maw of Judgment!"
From the darkness around him, monstrous, abyssal jaws formed, their fangs stretching endlessly as they lunged at Nagare, ready to consume him whole.
But Nagare's barrier held, his Fuinjutsu mastery neutralizing the attack before it could reach him.
Kiba landed with a heavy thud, his cerulean eyes piercing through the storm, his breath slow and measured. The rage within him clawed to be let free, but he fought against it—for his friends. For Naruto. For the world.
"You have no right to blame us," Kiba said coldly, his three wolf heads snapping their jaws in defiance. "You're the ones who did this! There was peace, but you bastards had to rip it apart and start this damn war!"
Nagare scoffed, his crackling emerald aura surging.
"Peace?" He spat the word like venom. "And wait for the world to wipe us out again? No, we refuse to be erased! The world needs a king to bring order to this chaos. And we—the Uzumaki—were meant to rule! With our gifts, our talent, we were the rightful rulers! Not you abominations with your artificial powers!" His lightning flared, the skies trembling in response. "You freaks aren't even human anymore!"
He sneered, eyes narrowing as his voice dripped with venom.
"If you want to blame someone for all this suffering, then blame that freak Naruto."
A deep growl rumbled from Kiba's throat.
Nagare smirked. "If he had just agreed to become our lord, everything would have been settled peacefully."
That was the last straw.
"You filthy scum!"
Chōji roared.
His abyssal aura expanded violently, an unholy storm of liquid shadows swallowing the sky. His massive form surged tenfold, his leviathan scales shimmering as his form towered above even Nagare's Lightning Giant Form.
With one colossal inhale, Chōji sucked the very air from the battlefield, creating a devastating vacuum that threatened to pull Nagare into his abyss-like maw.
Nagare strained against the force, his body anchored by his seals, barely holding on.
Meanwhile, Kiba stepped forward, his voice steady—cutting through the storm like a blade.
"You don't understand a damn thing about power," he said, his tone laced with disappointment rather than rage. "It's important to draw wisdom from many different places. If you only take it from one, it becomes rigid and stale. Understanding others—their strengths, their weaknesses, their pain—that is what makes you whole."
Nagare's eyes twitched, but Kiba continued.
"You people are stuck in the past, and you don't deserve to rule anything. You chose the easy way out the moment Naruto disappeared. But let me tell you something."
Kiba's glowing blue eyes sharpened, his three-headed form standing unshaken in the storm.
"The devil doesn't waste energy on the souls he already has."
Nagare's eyes widened.
Kiba's voice was like thunder, cutting through his doubt.
"The tempting path is always the one that's quick, easy, and glamorous. But when hardships come knocking, when it feels like the whole world is against you—that's when you know you're doing something right." His fangs flashed in the dim light.
Nagare trembled.
Even as he hovered in his Lightning Giant form, he felt himself shaken.
He tried to deny it.
Tried to reject the truth in Kiba's words.
But he couldn't.
Because he had already lost his conviction.
Nagare clenched his fists, his lightning flaring erratically.
He hadn't wanted this war.
He had never agreed with it.
But his comrades had died.
And now, even though he knew deep down that this battle was meaningless, he couldn't stop.
He had to avenge them.
He had to make sure their deaths meant something.
Even if it meant losing himself.
With a primal roar, his emerald lightning surged, and he charged forward—
—one last time.
The battlefield was drenched in flames, the sky painted red by the fury of Anna's uncontrollable power. Konohamaru and Udon clashed against her relentlessly, their newly awakened Otsutsuki instincts warring with their human minds.
It was a battle of titans.
The three combatants soared through the air, moving at speeds that shattered the atmosphere, each strike igniting shockwaves that split the land below.
Yet despite Anna's overwhelming might, it was clear—she was losing.
She was too young. Too inexperienced. Her power was consuming her.
And Makoto watched it all unfold.
His fists clenched, his heart heavy with guilt. This shouldn't have happened.
Anna was just a child, a girl who should have been laughing, dreaming, living. Instead, she had been thrown into a war she barely understood, lost in a storm of vengeance and destruction that was never hers to begin with.
And he had let it happen.
His once-mighty power had faded, his strength a mere shadow of what it once was. He had allowed others to take control, to dictate the course of battle, and now Anna was suffering for it.
Makoto exhaled, his resolve solidifying like steel.
"My duty is to be a model for the next generation, to set a good example for them."
His words were a whisper, but they carried the weight of a lifetime.
"And for that, I'll gladly lay down my life..."
His eyes hardened, his steps steady as he moved forward, past the soldiers of the Red Army, past the warriors who still stood to fight.
He could feel the weight on his shoulders, the weight of a decision he had made long ago.
This was his responsibility.
If he had to die, then so be it.
But Anna would not.
She would live.
She would smile again.
Standing at the heart of the Red Army, Makoto reached out.
He called upon the Red Symbol of Fire, the ancient power that had once been his to command.
And then, his voice rang out clear and strong—
"Anna, come here."
The raging inferno that had been her mindless fury wavered.
For the first time since the battle began, Anna hesitated.
Her small form, wreathed in uncontrolled destruction, stopped mid-air. The flames around her flickered, the wrath in her golden eyes dimming as she heard the one voice that had always guided her.
Makoto.
Like a lost child recognizing their guardian, Anna flew to him.
In a second, she was in his arms.
Makoto held her close, shielding her from the world, from the war, from the pain she shouldn't have to bear.
Anna's flames burned against his body, but he did not flinch.
Instead, he took it all in.
The raw, unrefined power of the Red King—he absorbed it into himself, letting it flow into his own body, sealing it away before it could consume her.
Anna did not resist.
She trusted him.
She had always trusted him.
Makoto knew what this meant.
A person grows up when they overcome hardships. Protection is important, but there are some things that a person must learn on their own.
Makoto knew this.
He had lived by this truth.
And yet, as he looked down at Anna's exhausted face, at the way she clung to him like a child seeking warmth in the cold—
He couldn't do it.
He couldn't make her learn this lesson.
Not like this.
Not by forcing her to endure the agony of war, the horrors of survival, the emptiness of loss.
Not yet.
She was still just a girl.
She still had time to laugh, to dream, to live.
She deserved to live.
And so, as the Red Fire raged within him, Makoto made his decision.
"Anna..."
His voice was gentle, yet unshakable.
"Wait for me here."
Anna blinked, confusion flickering in her weary, tired gaze.
"We'll have a big party once I'm finished."
Makoto turned, stepping forward onto the battlefield alone.
His body burned with the power of the Red King, the flames consuming him from within, filling his veins with limitless destruction.
He knew what this meant.
He would not survive this fight.
But Anna would.
And that was all that mattered.
With a calm, steady breath, Makoto faced Konohamaru and Udon—two warriors struggling against their own monstrous power, just as Anna had been.
And then, with one final smile, he raised his hand, the flames of kingship igniting in his palm.
"Come then, Shinobi. Let's finish this."
The battlefield was a storm of chaos, a war of titans, yet amidst the deafening roars of destruction, there was an eerie pocket of silence where words, not blades, clashed.
Tenten stood at the center of that stillness, her golden Otsutsuki eyes locked onto the Silver King, a man whose presence bent reality itself.
Her voice was steady, filled with the unyielding strength of conviction.
"It is better to give love. Hatred is a low and degrading emotion, so poisonous that no man is strong enough to use it safely."
The flames of war crackled around them, yet Tenten stood unmoved.
"The hatred we think we are directing against some person or system has a devilish way of turning back upon us. When we seek revenge, we administer slow poison to our souls."
Her words cut through the tension like a blade, not of steel, but of truth.
The Silver King, standing tall amidst the devastation, tilted his head slightly, observing the young warrior with an unreadable expression.
Then, he laughed.
A hollow, bitter chuckle.
"What a precocious child," he mused, his silver eyes glinting with something between amusement and sorrow.
Then his expression darkened, the weight of centuries pressing upon his shoulders.
"However, it is human nature to hate him who has injured you and taken love from you."
His gaze swept across the battlefield, his voice growing colder.
"You should understand, child, that love is a powerful emotion, and it brings about unforgettable hate."
The air around him rippled, his sheer presence warping space-time, yet his voice lowered, almost a whisper carried by the wind.
"This darkness within my soul shall never rest until I have reaped the souls of those who walked the path of our destruction."
Zoro, ever the warrior, was not one to engage in long debates, yet even he could not ignore the weight of the moment.
His three golden eyes shone with wisdom gained through blood and steel as he sheathed one of his six swords.
His voice was gruff, but firm.
"Some of the greatest battles will be fought within the silent chambers of our own soul."
He took a step forward, unafraid, his gaze piercing through the Silver King's armor of vengeance.
"It is better for you to conquer those demons within before you walk this world and make such choices."
His hand gestured toward the destruction surrounding them—the broken land, the smoldering ruins, the lost futures of countless innocents.
"Look around. Is this what you really wanted? Were the Uzumaki not peaceful people? Does this not go against your very nature?"
His words hung heavy in the air.
The Silver King did not reply, but something flickered in his eyes—a brief crack in the wall of fury and grief he had built around his soul.
It was Inari who spoke next.
The young warrior, bathed in Naruto's light, felt the burden of his master's ideals settle upon his shoulders.
He remembered the days when hate had consumed him, when the face of Gato had been the only thing he could see in his nightmares.
He took a deep breath and spoke.
"My master once told me something…
Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that."
The battlefield, once deafening with the sounds of war, felt quieter, as if even the world itself was listening.
Inari's voice remained gentle, yet resolute.
"Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our hearts, we still cling to anything—anger, anxiety, or hate—we cannot be free."
His words reached the Silver King like a ripple spreading across the ocean of time.
A long silence followed.
The Silver King, a man who had lived through countless battles, countless losses, who had seen his clan suffer, his loved ones perish—he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
And then, he laughed.
But this time, it was different.
Lighter.
Softer.
Almost… free.
"You children," he muttered, shaking his head, "you remind me of what I was about to lose."
His silver eyes turned skyward, and for the first time in centuries, he did not see the battlefield.
He saw the past.
The laughter of his comrades. The joy of his people before the war.
The love he had lost.
His fingers tightened on his blade, then loosened.
"It's so hard to forget pain," he admitted, "but it's even harder to remember sweetness."
His voice lowered, almost to himself.
"We have no scars to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace."
Tenten, Zoro, and Inari watched, waiting.
Finally, the Silver King lowered his sword.
"You have reminded me of what I was about to lose."
A sigh escaped him, as if centuries of hatred were being exhaled in that single breath.
"So I shall let you live… against my best judgment."