A Battle That Shook the Heavens
For hours, the battlefield had been a storm of devastation. The once-fertile lands of Amegakure had become an ashen wasteland, torn apart by relentless combat. The ceaseless rain had turned the earth into a mire of blood and shattered stone, while the very air crackled with lingering chakra. The war had long since lost any sense of strategy—it was now a contest of sheer endurance and power.
And yet, Hanzō of the Salamander stood unyielding.
The legend of his invincibility was no myth. He had fought the Sannin at full strength, his battle instincts honed over decades of bloodshed. His poisoned chakra had saturated the atmosphere, and every breath the Sannin took burned their lungs. Despite their immense power, despite their newfound awakenings—Hanzō refused to fall.
But even legends have their limits.
And the Three Sannin refused to break.
Tsunade's Unyielding Will
Tsunade's golden chakra surged, her form wreathed in a radiant glow, the markings of her ancestor, Asura Ōtsutsuki, pulsing across her skin. Her blood had finally returned to its ancient roots, unleashing a power unlike anything seen since the days of her grandfather, Hashirama Senju.
The battlefield trembled as she wielded the Wood Release, a skill thought lost to time. Colossal trees erupted from the ground, their branches twisting into towering fists, surging toward Hanzō like a vengeful god's wrath.
But Tsunade's strength was also her weakness.
Her unyielding drive—her desperation to end this battle—made her careless.
And in that moment of overextension, Hanzō struck.
His kusarigama whipped through the storm, moving faster than sound. Before she could react, the poisoned blade tore across her abdomen, deep enough to spill crimson.
For a brief second, the battlefield went silent.
Jiraiya's breath hitched. Orochimaru's slit pupils contracted.
Hanzō stepped back, expecting her to fall, expecting the poison to take effect.
But instead—
Tsunade roared.
Golden chakra flared, her wounds sealing within moments. The poison that should have crippled her was burned away by the sheer force of her vitality.
She was still standing.
But the sight of her blood—of her pain—was enough to shatter something deep within Ryūsei.
The Birth of Destruction
Far away, perched atop a ruined watchtower, Ryūsei watched everything.
He had not intervened in this war. He had chosen to observe, to let the world see the strength of the Sannin. But as he saw Tsunade bleed, saw the danger she had faced—
A pulse of raw hatred and fury ignited within him.
His vision blurred. His chakra howled. The world fractured around him.
And then—
His Mangekyō Sharingan awakened.
The moment it did, the battlefield itself reacted.
The rain stopped. The air shuddered. The very concept of reality seemed to waver.
His pupils shifted, morphing into a three-layered black and crimson sigil—a swirling design of interlocking rings, resembling an inverted sun, wreathed in eclipsing darkness. A symbol of absolute annihilation.
His newfound ability—the God of Destruction—manifested instantly.
It was not mere space-time manipulation. It was pure annihilation.
A technique that did not deflect attacks, but erased them from existence. A power that ignored durability, ignored defenses, ignored the very notion of cause and effect.
A touch of his gaze alone could unmake reality.
But this power—this absolute authority—came with a cost.
The moment he activated it, he felt an agonizing strain on his pupils. His vision blurred, his chakra being drained at an unfathomable rate.
His Senju bloodline allowed him to recover, to regenerate, but his Mangekyō Sharingan was not Eternal.
Each use of this ability brought him closer to blindness.
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain calm. He could not afford to lose control—not yet.
The End of a Legend
Meanwhile, the battle raged on.
Orochimaru moved like a phantom, his Dead Bone Pulse allowing him to regenerate even the most grievous wounds as he struck with razor-sharp bone spears. His form was no longer fully human—he was something more, something evolving beyond mortal limits.
Jiraiya, now fully embracing his Pure Sage Form, was a beacon of primordial power. The ancient symbols across his cloak pulsed with divine energy, his connection to natural chakra absolute.
Together, the Three Sannin executed their final attack.
Tsunade's Wood Release ensnared Hanzō, her immense strength keeping him locked in place.
Orochimaru's bone blades pierced his armor, shattering it.
And Jiraiya—the Sage of the Storm—descended from above, his colossal Rasengan radiating like a falling sun.
"SAGE ART: STARFALL CATASTROPHE!"
The explosion was blinding.
The very ground collapsed beneath them, a crater forming where Hanzō once stood. The force ripped apart the landscape, sending debris flying for miles.
And when the dust settled—
Hanzō of the Salamander was gone.
The war was over.
A New Era Begins
As the battlefield fell into silence, the world felt the weight of a legend ending.
The Three Sannin had proven themselves beyond mortal warriors—they were now the pillars of an era.
But far away, in the ruined tower, Ryūsei clenched his fists.
His Mangekyō Sharingan pulsed, its black-red glow shimmering with boundless destruction.
He had awakened something terrible.
And for the first time—
he felt afraid of his own power.
Because he knew…
If he lost control, there would be nothing left to save.
End of Chapter 40