Chapter 94

Lord of Storms: The Green King's Wrath

With Mei's Acid World established, the battlefield had been divided, a safe zone carved out in the midst of chaos, a single sanctuary where her allies could stand unscathed as the ceaseless downpour of emerald lightning continued to assault the land. The world had become a maelstrom of destruction, the storm growing wilder, stronger, more relentless with each passing moment. But even with this minor relief, time was not on their side.

Nagare had already begun his next move.

Just as Mei had crafted a domain in which she reigned supreme, so too did the Green King. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted his hand, and in response, the storm roared, expanding with newfound ferocity. The lightning no longer simply struck the ground—it took form, rising into pillars of pure, crackling energy, encircling Nagare's forces like an impenetrable fortress of light.

And then, from the very core of his power, his Fūinjutsu seals began to crawl across the battlefield, spreading like a living plague, slithering across the shattered terrain, carving themselves into reality itself. These seals were not mere markings, not simple restraints—they were curses, inscriptions of powerful debuffs designed to suppress, drain, and cripple. The very air became heavy, the oppressive weight of Nagare's will making every movement feel sluggish, every breath labored, every thought distant and clouded.

And yet, this was merely the beginning.

A radiant sigil appeared in the sky above, a massive symbol of lightning, the insignia of his clan's power, glowing brighter than the sun as it began to shift, distort, and take shape. Lightning crackled, folding in on itself, condensing into the form of a warrior, an entity so dense with energy that even standing near it made the atmosphere feel suffocating.

It was his Susanoo, though not one born of Sharingan and Uchiha blood.

This was the Lord of Storms, a being woven from the very essence of thunder and lightning, bound to his will, an avatar of destruction incarnate. It was not a towering colossus like those summoned by the Uchiha—Nagare had chosen efficiency over size. His Susanoo was only slightly larger than the norm, yet it radiated such boundless energy, such pure and unshackled might, that its very presence was an unspoken declaration of supremacy.

Its blade, a weapon crafted from lightning so condensed that it became a physical construct, hummed with a deadly frequency, its form ever-shifting, unstable, yet razor-sharp beyond comprehension.

"Let's end this painlessly."

Nagare's command was calm, devoid of malice, and in response, his Susanoo moved.

It did not charge forward. It did not prepare to strike.

It teleported.

One moment, it stood at Nagare's side.

The next, it was already in front of Akainu.

The Green King had little patience for those who annoyed him, and there was none who embodied unwavering arrogance and rigid dogma more than Akainu.

Before the magma warrior could react, before he could so much as acknowledge the attack, the lightning blade had already slashed across his form.

Akainu, whose body was magma itself, whose entire existence was heat and destruction, tried to resist, his lava-covered fist instinctively rising to block, but the blade was too fast, too strong, too overwhelming.

The sword did not cut—

It erased.

The very moment light touched lava, Akainu was torn apart, his body splitting in two, his power stolen away by the hungry seals that wrapped around his disintegrating form.

There was no scream.

No defiance.

Only obliteration.

Before a single voice could cry out, before a single ally could react, the blade had already moved to its next target.

The Susanoo vanished, appearing in front of Darui in the blink of an eye.

For a single moment, Darui understood.

There was no escape.

The blade descended, and with a flash of light, his body was scattered into nothingness, his existence snuffed out like a dying flame.

Aokiji was next.

But unlike the others, he had seen it coming. His mind, though lethargic from the seals, was still sharp.

And yet, even with absolute awareness, he could do nothing.

Even as his body hardened into ice, as he attempted to become intangible, to slip away, to evade—

The blade found him all the same.

It did not cut him.

It shattered him.

His frozen form exploded into thousands of fragments, scattering like shattered glass, and the seals ensnared his soul, ensuring that he, too, would never rise again.

By the time the Susanoo arrived before Mei, she had already adapted.

Unlike the others, her slime body, her innate danger sense, had given her an extra moment to react, to twist away, to evade the death that had come for them all.

For an instant, she survived.

For an instant, she defied fate.

And then, the Lord of Storms raised its palm.

A blinding beam of condensed lightning, larger than the heavens themselves, erupted from its hand, engulfing Mei's entire form, incinerating her acidic body, reducing her to less than nothing in an instant.

As the battlefield fell silent, as the light faded, Nagare lowered his hand, his expression unreadable.

He had won.

And yet, there was no satisfaction, no relief, no sense of righteous vengeance.

These people… they were not monsters. They were not tyrants, not villains who had deserved this fate.

They had simply been warriors, standing for what they believed in.

Nagare let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at the remains of his fallen enemies.

"They could have at least shown some disgusting qualities…" he muttered, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had just realized how cruel fate truly was.

"Sigh… I just feel like a villain now."

He turned away, ready to leave this battlefield behind, ready to move forward—

But then, something impossible happened.

One by one—

They stood up.

As Nagare watched, his eyes narrowed, his fingers tightening into a slow, deliberate fist. He had struck them down, shattered their bodies, erased them from existence—and yet, here they stood once more, rising like specters who refused to be forgotten.

But this was not simple resurrection, not some fleeting trick to delay the inevitable. No—this was something far more profound, far more dangerous.

This was evolution. 

The killing blow had forced the Otsutsuki transformation to complete at a fast rate and allowed the users to unlock unique traits.

Akainu's body melted, then reformed, but it was no longer the same. His lava no longer boiled with chaotic heat—it moved with purpose, flowing in controlled waves, each drop a reflection of his unyielding will.

And in the midst of his rebirth, his mind drifted back to the past, to the root of his rage, to the very moment he swore never to bend or break under the weight of injustice.

"Mikan."

The name left his lips in a whisper, but it carried the weight of a lifetime of sorrow and fury. His daughter, his greatest treasure, taken by the hands of a corrupt system, executed for a crime she never committed, her life stolen under the banner of false justice.

The Land of Earth had dealt its cruel verdict, and in its wake, he had lost his wife, his family, his very soul.

And now, as he felt death's grip upon him, as his body reconstructed itself in flames, he knew—he would never allow injustice to reign.

The land around him cracked and split apart, turning into a molten sea, his rage consuming the battlefield. His magma body expanded, absorbing the heat and fire, his very being growing larger, more monstrous, more titanic. His eyes burned like twin suns, his breath an exhalation of pure destruction.

"I will not let this injustice stand!"

His roar shook the heavens, and the earth melted beneath his wrath.

Unlike Akainu, Aokiji did not rage.

He had always appeared carefree, a man who drifted through life like a passing winter breeze, seemingly untouched by the world's cruelty. But those who looked deeper knew—his indifference was a mask, a shield forged from the pain of a man who had lost everything.

The Yuki Clan, his people, erased from existence. His own survival had been a cruel twist of fate, a hollow victory in a war that had left him alone, utterly and completely. He had survived the civil war, survived the Ninja War, survived betrayals and suffering, only to find himself once again forced into a battle for survival.

And in that moment, standing on the precipice of oblivion, he felt the weight of it all crashing down upon him.

Wouldn't it be easier to just… let go?

Wouldn't it be easier to fade into nothingness, to finally embrace the peace of death?

And then, a memory surfaced—

A boy's face.

Ryogi.

His adopted son, the one person who had looked up to him, who had needed him, who had trusted him.

And in that moment, he realized—he was not done yet.

"I am such a terrible father, Ryogi."

His voice was a breath of regret, but in it was determination, the will to rise again, the will to fight.

His body shifted, the very air around him plummeting to absolute zero, his form becoming ice incarnate.

Not just frozen water. Not just ice.

He became something else entirely.

A being of pure cryogenic force, a man whose very existence warped the laws of temperature and energy, the living embodiment of the cold that could halt even time itself.

And he stepped forward, his eyes now emotionless, his presence now a walking winter that devoured all warmth.

Darui had never cared for theatrics, never needed grand speeches or tragic backstories to justify his strength.

But what he did have was loyalty.

His Boss, the man he respected above all, the man who had guided him, trained him, trusted him—was now in danger.

And that was all that mattered.

"I can't leave the boss alone with such dangerous enemies," he muttered, his tone dry yet filled with resolve, his hands clenching into fists crackling with newfound power.

His body changed, veins of black lightning surging through his skin, his very essence becoming a conduit for limitless energy. His silhouette distorted, his form becoming something inhuman, something faster, sharper, more lethal than any blade.

He wasn't going to just fight.

He was going to take them all down with him.

Mei, unlike the others, had never truly died.

Her slime body, merged with Sage Mode, had made her impervious to conventional destruction.

She had felt the pain.

She had felt the blow that should have ended her.

But she had endured.

And now, as she watched her allies rise, she understood.

There was no need for grand words, no need for dramatic declarations.

She would fight, as she always had.

She would kill, as was necessary.

And she would win, because she had no other choice.

Her form shifted, tendrils of acidic slime writhing around her, her chakra blending perfectly with nature itself, turning her into a force of biological destruction.

Her eyes gleamed with quiet amusement, but the battlefield would soon learn—

There was nothing amusing about her power.

There was no hesitation, no moment of pause.

Without waiting for a single word, without giving Nagare even a breath, all four of them attacked simultaneously.

Aokiji and Akainu stood side by side, their elemental forces converging into a single, terrifying technique that defied nature itself. Ice and lava, two opposing forces that should have canceled each other out, instead merged into a colossal spinning blade, a construct of fire so hot it vaporized everything it touched, yet ice so cold it negated all energy before it.

With a single movement, the blade ripped through space, a hurricane of frost and magma that carved apart the very air as it hurtled toward Nagare's barrier, grinding against its structure with a force far beyond mortal comprehension.

At the same time, Darui's lightning surged, condensing into a lance of pure black energy, pulsating with such intensity that space itself distorted around it. Every particle of lightning within the atmosphere converged into the weapon, a spear of destruction crafted to pierce through anything, even divinity itself.

Mei did not hold back either.

With a flick of her slime-coated hands, she summoned an army of acid beasts, monstrous abominations born from the land itself, their bodies dripping with corrosive venom that melted through all defenses. The very ground bubbled, transforming into a sea of acid, swallowing the battlefield in a relentless tide of destruction. Arrows of liquid poison rained from the sky, thousands of them, seeking out their targets with terrifying accuracy.

For the first time, Nagare felt fear.

It was only a flicker, a momentary sensation deep within his chest, but it was enough to make him step backward.

These people…

They were like Hotaru.

No matter how many times they were cut down, they stood back up. No matter how devastating the attack, they continued fighting.

They were not warriors.

They were monsters.

And for the first time in his life, Nagare realized a simple truth—

"I could die here."

His heart pounded in his chest. His hands trembled for a brief second before he clenched them into fists. His Susanoo mirrored his hesitation, faltering for the briefest of moments.

That moment cost them.

The Green King's forces—his allies, his comrades—had not been prepared for such unnatural resurrection. They had seen the enemy fall, seen their bodies reduced to nothing, and yet they were alive again, stronger than before, their forms twisted into something beyond human.

They were shaken.

And in that hesitation—

Darui struck.

His black lightning lance burned through the air, moving faster than thought itself, a spear of absolute destruction that pierced the very heart of the Green army.

In a single instant, 30% of the forces were annihilated.

They didn't even have time to scream.

One moment they stood ready to fight, the next, their bodies were reduced to smoldering corpses, their very essence shattered by the raw force of the attack.

Nagare's eyes widened in horror.

He had led them here.

He had promised them victory.

And now—

They were dead.

Something within him snapped.

Rage, pure and uncontrollable, filled his entire being.

"You… YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"

Nagare's Susanoo did not attack on its own this time.

No.

It became one with him.

The colossal storm entity, once an extension of his power, merged with his body, fusing his very essence with the storm itself. His flesh became lightning, his veins surged with electric fury, his body distorted by the sheer magnitude of energy surging through him. His blade, now an extension of his very soul, howled through the air, a weapon of pure destruction.

And he attacked.

Without thought. Without strategy.

Without mercy.

He cut them down again and again and again.

It didn't matter if they revived. It didn't matter if they were immortal.

He would kill them a thousand times. A million times. He would keep cutting, keep slashing, keep annihilating them until there was nothing left to stand up again.

The battlefield was no longer a warzone.

It was a storm of blood and lightning, and Nagare was its unstoppable force.