Both Kakashi and Jiraiya read their letters in silence. After finishing, Jiraiya was the first to speak.
"Well, good for him," he muttered, folding the parchment and tucking it into his robe.
"They got a decent deal, considering we didn't lose much on our side," Kakashi added, scanning the details one last time.
The letters contained information about the negotiations with the Supreme Lord of the Land of Iron. In the end, Konoha had secured a 25% discount on weapon supplies with a ten-year agreement. Along with this update, both men received direct orders to participate in the upcoming negotiations with the Tsuchikage in the Land of Storms.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Earth, the Third Tsuchikage, Ōnoki, sat in his office, deep in thought. The upcoming negotiations weighed on him. Should he even attend? The political landscape was shifting, and with Nobaku's failure, the balance of power was uncertain.
Just then, an ANBU flickered into the room, kneeling before him.
"Lord Tsuchikage, we have found a witness who claims to have seen the entire battle with Nobaku. He insists he saw everything."
Ōnoki narrowed his eyes. "Oh? And where did you find such a witness?"
"He was a low-level mercenary ninja from a group called Akatsuki. You may recall that we have used their services in the past. This particular mercenary was hired by Nobaku but backed out at the last minute."
Ōnoki's expression remained unreadable, but his curiosity was piqued. "Bring him in."
A few moments later, a cuffed ninja was led into the office. He had a ragged look, his clothes tattered, and his eyes darted around the room cautiously.
"Tell me what you saw," Ōnoki ordered, his voice firm.
The ninja hesitated before speaking. "I was a few hundred meters away, so I didn't see everything clearly… but I'm almost certain that it was Dust Release."
Ōnoki's eyes narrowed. "Oh? And how can you be so sure?"
The mercenary hesitated, his fingers twitching as he gripped the hem of his tattered shirt. With a slow, deliberate movement, he lifted the fabric, revealing a grotesque patchwork of scars. His torso bore the marks of battles long past, but one wound stood out—a jagged, unnatural gap where flesh had once been, hastily reattached through means both medical and unnatural.
His breath hitched, his fingers lightly tracing the rough edges of the wound as he finally spoke. "Years ago, during the war, I was part of the Suna forces that attacked Konoha with Iwa's forces. I remember that day like it was yesterday. You appeared, floating high above the battlefield, a god of death looking down upon mere mortals. And then… you unleashed hell. Dust Release—obliterating everything in its path, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of those who once lived. I watched comrades vanish in an instant. And just when I thought it was over, you turned your power on yur allies, us. You didn't care who we were. You killed them. All of them." His voice wavered, but his gaze remained steady. "I barely survived. And this wound is my reminder. So yes, I am certain it was Dust Release."
Ōnoki's expression remained unreadable. "Alright. You may leave."
The mercenary's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. "That's it? Just like that? I just told you how you slaughtered my comrades, and you dismiss me?"
Ōnoki didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He merely stared, unmoved by the outburst.
A bitter laugh escaped the mercenary's lips, his shoulders trembling with barely contained fury. "Of course. That's just how it is with you people. Cold. Calculating. Indifferent to the lives beneath you." He exhaled sharply, then smiled—a slow, knowing grin filled with malice. "Remember my name—Ragus Wol."
Before anyone could react, he bit down hard on his thumb, drawing a thick line of blood, and slammed his palm onto the ground. The air crackled with dark chakra as he whispered, "Forbidden Summoning Jutsu: Flower of Self-Destruction."
Blood splattered in all directions as his body crumpled to the floor. But before it could settle, the earth beneath him shuddered violently. From where he had stood, a massive red mandevilla flower erupted, its petals unfurling like a beast awakening from slumber. The very air around it turned heavy, charged with something unnatural—an impending catastrophe. Its deep crimson center pulsed ominously, a sickly glow intensifying with each passing second.
Ōnoki's eyes flickered with recognition. "Tch." He barely had time to react before a spark ignited the deadly pollen surrounding the flower.
An ANBU leapt forward, his voice a desperate cry. "Lord Tsuchikage, get out of here!"
The explosion came a second later, a blinding inferno swallowing the room in an instant.
"Well, damn," Ōnoki muttered just before the explosion rocked the building.
After the dust settled and the rubble stopped falling, several Iwa shinobi rushed to assess the damage. The Tsuchikage's office was completely destroyed, reduced to smoldering ruins. One of the shinobi looked up, pointing at the sky.
"Look! Lord Tsuchikage!"
Ōnoki was floating above the wreckage, slowly descending. His robes were tattered, and his left hand was badly burned, but he otherwise seemed unharmed. As he landed, he was immediately surrounded by his shinobi.
"Lord Third! What happened?" an ANBU operative asked.
"A suicide attack," Ōnoki said, his voice calm but laced with irritation. "Fetch the remains of the ANBU who was with me. Give his family the appropriate compensation."
He surveyed the destruction with an unreadable expression. Though he showed no outward signs of anger, those who had served under him long enough could tell—he was livid.
Finally, he turned to one of the remaining ANBU. "Summon a medic. My hand is burned. Also… prepare for departure. We will meet with Konoha in the Land of Storms in three days."