Chapter 293: Madara’s Demise
Chapter 293: Madara's Demise
"Sage Art: Wood Release – True Several Thousand Hands!"
Inside the sealed space, Tonari clasped his hands together in front of his chest. Beside him, Matatabi did the same, her expression solemn.
"Are you ready, big beauty? Give me all of your chakra!"
"Understood!"
With a deep growl, Matatabi poured all of her chakra into Tonari without hesitation.
The massive wooden golem beneath him began to change—countless wooden branches surged forth, completely enveloping its form.
A colossal wooden statue took shape, far larger than before, its presence radiating a divine yet oppressive aura.
At its center stood a benevolent-looking Buddha, its hands clasped in the same manner as Tonari's.
But the most striking feature lay behind it—a vast array of thousands of wooden arms, fanned out like the tail of a peacock.
This was the origin of the Senju Clan's name, a legendary jutsu that blurred the line between ninjutsu and sage arts.
Its sheer size and power immediately drew the attention of every Konoha shinobi.
When they saw it, their eyes burned with passion.
This was their Hokage.
Their Fourth Hokage, standing alone against an enemy powerful enough to control the Nine-Tails.
Despite their overwhelming fear, seeing Tonari's might ignited a flame of courage within them.
If their Hokage could stand his ground, then how could they allow themselves to falter?
Konoha was not the village of a single man—it was the village of all its people.
Together, they would protect it.
For Konoha.
While Tonari's True Several Thousand Hands was a beacon of hope for his allies, it was a nightmare for Madara.
The moment the technique took full form, Madara froze.
He stared blankly at the towering wooden colossus, his mind dragged into the past.
The battle at the Valley of the End.
The clash against Hashirama Senju.
The very technique that had crushed him decades ago now stood before him once more.
And on its head, where Hashirama once stood, now stood Tonari.
Madara's pupils shrank violently.
"HASHIRAMA!!"
His mind, unwilling to accept reality, had superimposed Tonari's image over his greatest rival.
"I WILL NOT LOSE TO YOU!!"
With a roar, Madara charged forward, his Nine-Tails-clad Susanoo rampaging toward the wooden behemoth.
Tonari watched him with icy determination.
Madara had miscalculated.
"You may not realize it yet," Tonari muttered, "but you've already lost."
Although Tonari's True Several Thousand Hands was not a perfect replication of Hashirama's, Madara's Susanoo-clad Nine-Tails was also far from complete.
This was merely half of Kurama, powered by a weaker Sharingan—a pale shadow of the true "Majestic Attire: Susanoo".
Victory had already been decided.
Tonari's sage robes unfurled behind him.
A brilliant green glow gathered in his clasped hands.
"Sage Art: Top Transformed Buddha!"
The voice carried an undeniable authority, resonating like a divine decree.
And then—
The thousands of wooden arms moved.
Each one descended with devastating force.
Madara and Tonari collided head-on.
BOOM!!
The first impact sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield.
Then—
BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!
A relentless barrage followed, each strike shaking the earth itself.
The ground splintered and collapsed, sinking deeper with each impact.
For a full three minutes, the attacks did not stop.
By the time the dust settled, the entire battlefield had been transformed into a massive crater, dozens of meters deep.
The True Several Thousand Hands was gone.
The Susanoo-clad Nine-Tails was gone.
What remained was a massive, exhausted Kurama, lying on its side in the crater, its chest heaving weakly.
Its blood-red Sharingan had faded, replaced by its natural, slitted pupils.
Nearby, a bloodied and tattered Madara lay sprawled on the ground.
His once-imposing armor was shattered, his body covered in deep gashes.
Blood dripped from his mouth, but his eyes remained locked on Tonari.
In contrast, Tonari himself was barely standing, his legs trembling from exhaustion.
He had won—but only just barely.
Now, he understood why Hashirama had only lived for a few months after his final battle with Madara.
The chakra consumption of this technique was monstrous.
At its peak, True Several Thousand Hands devoured chakra at a rate greater than Kakashi's entire reserves per second.
When chakra was insufficient, it would drain the user's life force instead.
Had it not been for Matatabi's help and the natural energy released by Isobu's death, Tonari himself might have perished from overuse.
But in the end—he had won.
Madara had lost.
For the second time, he had been defeated by this very technique.
Tonari dragged his shaking legs forward, stopping before Madara's fallen form.
Gazing down at him, he whispered:
"If you ever return… I'll be waiting."
Madara's eyes widened.
Even in defeat, a flicker of mad joy shone in his gaze.
He wanted to engrave Tonari's face into his soul.
A wisp of smoke rose from his body.
His form began to fade.
Soon, what remained was a lifeless White Zetsu—the vessel that had contained his clone.
Madara's presence had vanished.
Tonari exhaled deeply.
His gaze shifted to Kurama, who was still lying motionless.
Kurama's eyes stared up at the sky, filled with shock and exhaustion.
Tonari sighed.
Madara had lost twice to this jutsu.
Kurama had suffered through it twice as well.
He stepped forward, confirming that Kurama was unable to move.
Then, he collapsed to the ground, pulling out a special soldier pill.
Though bitter, he forced himself to swallow it whole.
His chakra was nearly depleted, but the battle was not yet over.
Somewhere, Minato, Kushina, and Lingxiang were still missing.
After three minutes of recovery, he forced himself back to his feet.
In the distance, he could still hear explosions—
The battle continued.
His gaze lingered on Kurama.
With one last glance, he disappeared into the night.
---
Somewhere in the Shadows…
Madara's true body sat slumped in a dark cavern, barely clinging to life.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of lifeless shinobi hung from the Gedo Statue, their bodies drained of chakra.
Even after absorbing so much energy, his time was up.
The Black Zetsu stood beside him, its expression unreadable.
Madara lifted his gaze.
His ancient, tired voice whispered:
"I remember you now…"
Black Zetsu frowned.
"Madara, does this mean… you failed?"
Madara did not respond.
Instead, he murmured:
"Nagato should be ready… If he refuses, then… give the Rinnegan to Tobi."
Zetsu nodded.
"As you wish."
The old warrior closed his eyes.
He had seen his true opponent now.
And he would return.
Madara fell silent.
His era had ended.
For now.
---
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