The Collapse of Stone

Orochimaru stood in the middle of the forest—but if anyone had stumbled upon this place now, they wouldn't believe a forest had ever existed here. The earth was scorched black by waves of Fire Release, cratered by devastating jutsu, and painted red by the blood of fallen ninja. Burnt trees stood like gravestones, and the stench of smoke and flesh hung thick in the air.

A gust of wind stirred the haze as a masked Konoha ANBU dropped from the sky, landing on one knee before Orochimaru.

"Minato has succeeded in his mission, Lord Orochimaru," the ANBU reported, voice calm but laced with urgency.

Orochimaru gave a slow nod, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin that was far from pleasant. "Excellent…"

With this, the final piece of his plan was falling into place. Minato's infiltration was a success—and with the Iwa commanders eliminated, the heart of the enemy's army had been carved out. Orochimaru waved a pale hand, dismissing the ANBU. "Inform Minato that from now on, his role is simple: weaken Iwa as much as possible. Drain them until nothing is left."

He turned his gaze toward the blackened horizon. It's already too late for Iwa, he thought.

The Iwa Commanders had committed the bulk of their forces to the front lines—leaving their primary command posts dangerously under-defended. Orochimaru saw the opportunity, and he'd struck with surgical precision. Minato's task had been to eliminate leadership. Orochimaru's was to launch a full-scale offensive. And while Iwa's chain of command crumbled in Minato's wake, Orochimaru was tearing through the battlefield like a blade through flesh.

To Iwa's credit, their ANBU squads were competent and resilient. Despite the chaos, they had managed to organize an ambush against Orochimaru himself—a rare display of coordination in a crumbling army. The ensuing clash had been brutal. Orochimaru's forces had won, but not without cost. Konoha's side suffered massive casualties, and without reinforcements, the situation might have shifted dangerously.

But Orochimaru had anticipated this.

He knew Iwa was on the brink. Their supply lines were faltering. Their soldiers were exhausted. Their once-overwhelming numbers had been shattered. Their command structure was decimated. They were an army with no orders and no direction, only the instinct to survive.

And survival is not victory.

The Tsuchikage's absence had left a void no one could fill. Even Orochimaru admitted that when the Tsuchikage returned, things might change—but by then, there would be nothing left to save.

In truth, Orochimaru had based his entire strategy on Minato's success. He had assumed, without hesitation, that Minato would eliminate the enemy commanders. With that key move secured, Konoha's troops had begun breaching Iwa's defenses at multiple places.

Normally, in such situations, Iwa's leadership would have issued a tactical retreat to preserve their remaining forces—but no such order ever came. The commanders were already dead. The soldiers fought blindly, unaware of the larger picture. Even when the scale of the catastrophe became clear, it was too late to pull back.

The Iwa ANBU, who knew the true extent of their side's disintegration, tried desperately to salvage the situation. They moved through the ranks, attempting to issue orders, coordinate retreats—but there were too few of them left. Too many had already died. And worse—many were hunted down mid-mission by Konoha's ANBU and Root, who had long since infiltrated deep behind enemy lines.

The result was chaos.

Some Iwa squads began retreating without any orders. Others stubbornly held their ground until they were slaughtered. A few received word to withdraw—but without coordination, it was meaningless. There was no plan, no fallback position. It was a rout, not a retreat.

And as they fled, they were cut down.

Konoha ninja surged from the shadows—tracking, ambushing, and eliminating the fleeing remnants of Iwa's forces. They were like wolves chasing wounded prey. Blood soaked the soil. Screams echoed through the hills. The once-proud Iwa army crumbled in just a single day.

One day. That was all Orochimaru had needed.

The units that didn't flee were surrounded and crushed. Those who did were hunted down, exhausted and starved of supplies. Konoha's strategy had not just been to win—it had been to break.

Their supply lines, already stretched thin, were obliterated by coordinated ANBU strikes. Every outpost constructed along Iwa's advance was reduced to rubble. Even the cities meant to support their operations—the first and second strongholds—were engulfed in flames due to sabotage and infiltration. The skirmishes there, between Konoha spies and stationed Iwa forces, had rendered them unusable. What should have been resupply hubs had become burning carcasses.

And Konoha? They were fighting on home soil.

They knew the terrain. They had superior logistics, higher morale, and now, the numbers. Following Orochimaru's plan, the Hokage had reallocated troops from other fronts to focus on Iwa's destruction. Konoha's war presence swelled to over 3,000 active shinobi pushing against Iwa's fractured front.

Iwa had started with 5,000.

But due to the Tsuchikage's aggressive, unrelenting assault strategy, their numbers had bled out. The trap in the third city had been particularly devastating—an orchestrated slaughter disguised as a battle. And though the Tsuchikage had tried to reinforce the front, the replacement troops couldn't cover the death demanding advance.

Even the units occupying the Land of Grass and Fire territories—meant to hold and defend—had suffered staggering losses from counterattacks, sabotage, and ambushes.

By nightfall, the shattered remnants of Iwa's retreating army approached the burned shell of the second city. But there was nothing left to defend. No leadership. No plan. Only the vague command to retreat—without direction, without coordination.

Retreat to where? No one knew.

All they knew was that the enemy was still coming. That to stay meant certain death.

And so they ran.

Behind them, Konoha hunted without mercy. The lines had collapsed. The war had turned.

All of it—the unraveling of an army, the destruction of a strategy, the fall of an invasion—came down to a single, fatal mistake.

One miscalculation by the Tsuchikage.

And one flawless plan by Orochimaru.