Chapter 93

As the battlefield was divided into five zones of absolute carnage, the shinobi side meticulously organized their forces, each team assigned to a specific target among the Five Kings of the Uzumaki Clan. It was a battle where the strongest warriors in history were pitted against each other, a clash that would determine the future of the world. However, despite their careful planning, none of the shinobi could guarantee victory, for they were about to face the full might of a clan that had been forged in war and perfected in unity.

The first team, consisting of A, Ishikawa, Byakuren, Ay, Ōnoki, and Kurotsuchi, had been given the responsibility of taking down the Silver King. The Silver King, though not as overtly destructive as the others, was perhaps the most dangerous, for he was the master of adaptation and strategy, able to analyze his opponents and counter them in an instant. Against him, the combined might of multiple generations of the strongest Tsuchikage and Raikage had been assembled, bringing with them the raw, unrelenting power of earth and lightning—two forces that had historically shaped the land itself.

The second team, composed of Darui, Akainu, Aokiji, and Mei, had been tasked with confronting the Green King. Against him stood the forces of elemental devastation, the very epitome of nature's wrath—Darui's Black Lightning, Akainu's living magma, Aokiji's freezing dominion, and Mei's corrosive, volcanic techniques. This was a battle where creation and destruction would collide, a war where the land itself would scream in agony.

The third team, led by Gaara, Smoker, and three titanic battle mechs, had been charged with holding back the Red King, a warrior whose ferocity knew no bounds, whose rage alone could burn armies to ash. Against him, they would have to rely on Gaara's mastery over sand, Smoker's ability to become an untouchable force of nature, and the sheer firepower of the colossal mechs, towering machines built specifically for war against immortals and monsters. Yet even with all their preparations, their role was not to defeat the Red King but to stall him—to keep him occupied long enough for Luffy to eliminate the Gold King and break the balance of the battle.

The fourth team, the most enigmatic and feared, was Orochi, his Four Devas, and Storm, the ones tasked with taking down the Blue King. This was a fight between monsters and demiimmortals, between warriors who had transcended humanity and a King whose mastery over pure energy and spiritual dominion made him an unstoppable force. Orochi's presence alone warped the battlefield, his Four Devas commanding the very elements themselves, and Storm, a being whose power was an anomaly even among legends, was a wild card in a battle where victory was uncertain.

And finally, there was the fifth and most critical team, consisting of Inari, Zoro, Akuma, and Luffy, whose mission was to end the Gold King before the Uzumaki could fully unleash their power. This was the linchpin of their strategy, the one move that, if successful, would turn the tides of war. The Gold King was the strongest among the Five, the one who commanded the balance of their power, the one whose fall could shatter the formation of the Uzumaki. Yet, despite this critical role, only one among them carried a lighthearted expression—Luffy, the clone warrior, who saw the battle not as a war, but as an adventure.

Unlike the others, who carried the weight of history and responsibility on their shoulders, Luffy was unburdened. He was a being created in mere weeks, a warrior given life without a past, with knowledge but no experience, with skill but no personal attachment to the world. To him, this was a game, a world full of wonders and dangers that he had never seen before, and every battle, every attack, was something new to experience. He laughed, grinned, and threw himself into combat with the same carefree joy as a child exploring the world for the first time.

But for the shinobi, there was no joy, no sense of adventure—only tension, only the weight of responsibility. Their faces were etched with determination, their bodies honed for war, yet deep within their hearts, they knew—this would not be an easy fight.

Because the Uzumaki Clan had yet to reveal their true power.

The true terror of the Uzumaki was not their individual strength, nor was it their raw mastery over seals and combat. It was their unity, their ability to fight as a single entity, to elevate each other's power through an unparalleled multiplier effect. The true power of a team, of a clan, was that they were always more than the sum of their parts. And under the supreme leadership of Toshiro, their power was not just multiplied—it was amplified to levels beyond imagination.

If a single Uzumaki King was powerful enough to rival a immortal, then together, with their forces connected through an unbreakable web of synergy, they were something else entirely—they were a force of nature, a storm that could not be stopped, a living, breathing catastrophe.

Even so, they did not hesitate to split themselves into five groups, just as the shinobi had done. Because for them, this was more than enough.

For the world, this was the greatest battle in history.

For the warriors on the battlefield, it was a struggle for survival.

And for the Uzumaki—this was just another day of war.

Nagare, the Green King, stood amidst the battlefield, his emerald lightning crackling ominously around his ethereal form, its glow interrupted only by the faint black markings that covered his translucent body. Though he had expended a great deal of power in the initial assault, first against the shinobi resistance and later against Luffy's unexpected attack, he now found himself reinvigorated, his strength bolstered by the collective power of his clan. Yet, despite this newfound surge in energy, he couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration.

In an ideal world, they would have crushed the shinobi before they had time to mount a proper resistance. Now, with the enemy holding their ground, the battle had become prolonged, chaotic, and far riskier. The idea of losing his people gnawed at him. Even though he had steeled himself for war, the possibility of watching his comrades and family perish filled him with unease.

Still, a part of him relished the challenge. There was no honor, no satisfaction, in destroying an enemy who could not fight back.

With a smirk, Nagare took a casual stance, his arms hanging loosely by his side as if the battle was of little concern to him. His voice, as light as a summer breeze, carried across the battlefield.

"Hey, how about you guys take the easy way out and not make this painful for yourselves?"

The shinobi forces did not react with immediate hostility. Instead, a cold, measured voice responded.

"I'll give you a better option," Aokiji said, his usual laid-back demeanor in place despite the mounting tension. His breath turned the air frigid, small crystals of ice forming at his feet as he exhaled. "Why don't you turn around and go back home?"

Nagare hummed thoughtfully, tapping his chin as if genuinely considering the proposal. "Hmm, a nice offer… but I'm not convinced."

Before the verbal exchange could continue, another voice interjected with pure venom.

"Aokiji, stop engaging with the fool and focus on killing all these filthy creatures."

Akainu's booming voice cut through the battlefield like a judge handing down a sentence. His body radiated unbearable heat, his very presence distorting the air as molten embers dripped from his magma-infused form. Unlike Aokiji, Akainu had no patience for diplomatic games or clever banter. The deaths of his people had enraged him, and the very idea that anyone could oppose his will ignited an even deeper fury within him. He was a man of absolute justice, and in his eyes, the Uzumaki were a plague that needed to be exterminated.

However, before tensions could escalate further between allies, another voice chimed in—soft yet filled with authority.

"Please don't fight, Mister Akainu."

Mei stepped forward, her new form glistening in the dim light of battle. She had fully merged with Saiken, the Six-Tails, her entire body now composed of a viscous, acidic slime. Her new form was almost translucent, glowing softly in hues of jade and silver, with Sage Mode markings accentuating her inhuman beauty.

She smiled gently, though there was a sharpness in her expression.

"My dear Aokiji was just setting the mood since things felt so unbearably heavy." She turned her eyes toward Nagare, tilting her head playfully. "And we're also not keen on postponing the battle. So, let's begin and witness your new abilities."

Akainu scoffed but did not argue. Mei was beneath him in power and experience, and more importantly, she was a former enemy of Iwagakure. Had it not been for Onoki's orders, he would have dismissed her entirely.

But his master had spoken, and he would obey.

With a curt nod, Akainu turned his focus back to the enemy, the inferno within him rising. The time for words had passed.

The battle had begun.

Akainu was no longer just a man made of lava—he had become lava itself. His body fluctuated between liquid and solid, an ever-shifting mass of molten rock and blazing heat. With his new Otsutsuki transformation, his control over magma had reached a divine level. He could amplify its temperature beyond what was natural, raising it to the intensity of the sun's surface. He could become magma, flow like magma, consume like magma.

Yet, like the others who had undergone the transformation, he was incomplete.

The Rinnegan had not manifested, nor had he gained horns or any unique Otsutsuki abilities like Kaguya's Dimensional Travel, Ash Bones, or Infinite Tsukuyomi. His transformation had only given him a tremendous boost in raw power and durability, but not yet the true transcendence of a full Otsutsuki.

Even so, it was enough.

Without a word, Akainu unleashed hell upon the battlefield.

The ground beneath Nagare exploded, spewing forth a tsunami of molten rock as Akainu willed the earth itself to betray the enemy. Rivers of fire carved their way through the land, consuming everything in their path. Yet, as expected, the Green King was untouched.

Nagare stood unfazed, his emerald lightning aura flickering as the protective barrier of his clan shielded him. His smug expression never wavered, his confidence in his power unshaken.

Akainu narrowed his eyes. "We shouldn't hold back against such enemies."

His body shifted, pulsating with power as he decided to end this quickly.

With a single motion, he summoned his strongest technique from the very beginning—a monstrosity born of molten fury.

The air shook as an enormous magma golem erupted from the ground, standing over a hundred meters tall. Unlike his previous creations, which only reached twenty or thirty meters, this one was colossal, an unstoppable behemoth of liquid fire and solidified destruction. Its arms alone could level mountains, its body a living furnace that could incinerate anything in its grasp.

The battlefield had long since lost any resemblance to the world it once was. The land was scorched, shattered, and frozen in equal measure. The sky, once open and vast, was now a chaotic storm of green lightning, as if the heavens themselves had been twisted by Nagare's will.

Aokiji, despite the dire circumstances, let out a long, weary sigh, his breath chilling the air around him. "I hope you're right. I really wish to go back home and watch some TV." His voice was detached, almost indifferent, but beneath that calm demeanor, his eyes were sharp. He understood the situation perfectly—this battle was one of attrition as much as it was of power.

Without hesitation, he raised a single hand, and the temperature plummeted in an instant. The air turned brittle, as if the very concept of warmth had been erased. From the frozen abyss of his will, a giant of ice emerged—a Frost Giant unlike anything he had summoned before.

This colossal entity, towering over the battlefield, radiated an aura of absolute zero, an existence so cold that it could shatter reality itself. Every step it took froze the very essence of matter, leaving nothing but deathly stillness in its wake. Where Akainu's magma burned like the sun, Aokiji's ice brought the void of deep space to the battlefield.

Standing beside him, Darui had been silent, watching, analyzing. He wasn't one for unnecessary words—only results mattered. As his allies unleashed their titanic forces, he exhaled sharply, deciding to contribute his own.

He had always been a man who preferred efficiency over spectacle, but against an opponent like this, holding back was not an option.

Darui's fastest technique, Laser Circus, was known for its precision and adaptability, while his strongest technique, the Black Lightning Liger, embodied raw destructive force. However, neither alone would be enough here. He had one other technique, a Lightning Golem, but it wasn't something he had mastered.

He needed certainty, not experimentation.

Laser Circus it was.

But this time, it was not the small, concentrated beams of old.

From the heavens above, hundreds of massive beams of pure light rained down. No longer simple energy projectiles, these beams were drawn from the depths of space itself, carrying the sheer destructive force of celestial bodies.

As the two titans of ice and fire took form, and light itself became a weapon, Mei moved into position. Unlike the others, she understood that brute force alone would not be enough. Support and attrition were just as vital in war.

With a graceful motion, she lifted her hand, and from the acidic mist of her form, spears of corrosive energy materialized.

These were no ordinary weapons.

Each acid spear was a manifestation of her essence, an attack that would disintegrate anything it touched, no matter the level of defense. The very concept of resistance was meaningless before her abilities—flesh, metal, chakra, even space itself would corrode under her touch.

The battlefield had become a nightmare.

And yet…

The enemy remained unmoved.

Nagare's forces, his clan, did not flinch, did not react. They stood firm, as though the onslaught meant nothing. Their faith in their King was absolute.

And he did not disappoint them.

As the deadly attacks approached, thousands of emerald lightning chains materialized in the sky, crisscrossing in an intricate web of destruction. These were no ordinary chains—they were manifestations of Nagare's will, imbued with the full might of his Green Lightning.

They did not simply block attacks.

They suppressed. They restricted. They drained.

In an instant, the giants of ice and magma were ensnared, their colossal might restrained as the chains dug deep into their forms. The Lightning Storm did not simply attack—it consumed.

From these lightning-forged shackles, debuff seals spread, seeping into the very essence of those caught in its grasp. Strength, speed, chakra—everything was being sapped away, little by little.

Nagare stood, watching the battlefield with amusement, his expression one of absolute confidence.

"I'm about to get serious," he muttered, his voice carrying across the battlefield like a whisper of doom.

And then, he snapped his fingers.

The world changed.

A massive storm erupted, swallowing the battlefield whole. Thunderclaps roared like the cries of gods, and lightning bolts rained down endlessly, their sheer numbers making it seem as though the sky itself was collapsing.

This was no ordinary lightning storm.

Each bolt carried not only immense destructive force, but also a paralyzing effect, meant to wear down and weaken its victims. No single strike was lethal, but that was the point—it would never stop.

The shinobi had to fight while being constantly bombarded, forced into a battle of endurance against the very heavens.

Mei, recognizing the danger, acted immediately.

"Take defensive measures!" she commanded, her voice ringing out like an alarm bell.

Her instincts, honed through countless battles, told her that whatever was coming was far worse than what they had already faced.

Without hesitation, she created an Acid Dome, a protective barrier of her own flesh, designed to dissolve anything that attempted to enter.

But defense alone was not enough.

She released a mist.

Not just any mist—a corrosive energy field, a draining fog designed to sap the life force of all who entered. This would not only protect her allies but also continuously weaken their enemies.

As the storm intensified, the group had a decision to make.

They could try to defend while attacking, risking getting caught in the relentless barrage, or they could go all-out, attempting to break through before they were completely overwhelmed.

Or… they could finally fight as a team.

For the first time, a true strategy emerged.

Mei took the role of the defender.

She expanded her acidic landscape, transforming the ground beneath them into an Acid World, a domain of corrosive death where only she and her allies could survive. Any enemy that stepped inside would find themselves dissolved, their energy drained slowly but surely.

With Mei's defense securing their position, the others were free to focus entirely on offense.