Chapter 188: The Buddha's Mercy
*"ROOOAR!"
The Five-Tails thrashed in the Buddha's grip, its massive body twisting with enough force to shatter mountains. The ground beneath them buckled and cracked, deep fissures spreading outward like frozen lightning.
But the Buddha's hold did not weaken.
Desperate, King Mu's five tails shot forward, wrapping around the golden colossus from behind. They stretched impossibly—far beyond their natural length—coiling around the Buddha's torso, its arms, its neck. The tails tightened like constrictor serpents, squeezing with the force of compressed tectonic plates.
Ragnar felt it through his connection to the Buddha—the pressure, the suffocation, the strain. He frowned.
A Tailed Beast's body should not stretch like this. Energy constructs, yes. But physical flesh?
Yet here it was, defying logic as ancient creatures often did.
Reluctantly, he released King Mu's neck. The golden palms separated, and the Five-Tails stumbled back, gasping.
*SLAM!
The Buddha's hands came together in a thunderous clap.
*"Shockwave!"
Golden light exploded from the colossus—not just light, but force. A sphere of pure, concussive energy expanded outward in all directions, catching King Mu mid-stagger and hurling it away like a leaf in a hurricane.
*CRASH! BOOM! CRUNCH!
The Five-Tails tumbled across the landscape, plowing through hills, flattening forests, carving new riverbeds with its passage. The destruction was absolute—mountains that had stood for millennia reduced to rubble in seconds.
But the beast rose.
Its Sharingan eyes—still burning with Madara's will—fixed on the Buddha with renewed fury. It threw back its head and roared.
And then it began to gather energy.
Black and blue chakra swirled before its open maw, condensing into a sphere of pure annihilation. This was no humanoid imitation—this was the true Tailed Beast Bomb. An attack capable of leveling cities. Of extinguishing nations. Of reshaping the very geography of the world.
The condensation took only a heartbeat.
*FWOOOOSH!
The bomb shot forward, tearing through the air, leaving a vacuum in its wake. The shockwave alone flattened everything for miles.
Ragnar did not dodge.
The Buddha moved.
One massive golden hand shot forward, catching the Tailed Beast Bomb as if it were a mere baseball. The sphere of annihilation sizzled and crackled in its palm, straining against the golden flesh that held it.
And then the Buddha was there—closing the distance in a single step that shook the earth.
Its other hand seized King Mu's throat again.
*"Roooar—?!"
Before the beast could react, before it could struggle, before it could even process what was happening—Ragnar shoved the Tailed Beast Bomb directly into its open mouth.
"…"
King Mu froze.
Its massive eyes went wide with confusion. It blinked. Once. Twice.
Did I just… eat my own Tailed Beast Bomb?
The answer came an instant later.
*BOOM.
A muffled detonation echoed from within the beast's body. King Mu's sleek form began to expand—swelling grotesquely as the unleashed energy fought to escape. Its eyes bulged. Its mouth opened, and instead of a roar, a column of pure, incandescent plasma shot toward the sky.
The beam pierced the clouds, vaporizing them for hundreds of miles. For the first time in weeks, sunlight bathed the battlefield—but no one noticed. All eyes were on the bloated, suffering beast.
*BRRRRP.
An enormous, echoing belch rolled across the devastated landscape.
King Mu's form slowly deflated. It swayed once, twice—and then collapsed, lying on its side in the crater it had created, dazed and thoroughly humiliated. Every few seconds, another small belch escaped its lips, accompanied by a puff of smoke.
On the distant hilltop, Madara stared.
Silence.
Then, slowly, a chuckle. Then a laugh. Then a roar of pure, delighted amusement.
"Hahaha! HAHAHAHAHA!" The ancient Uchiha slapped his knee, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "He did it! He actually did it! Just like Hashirama! The same simple, brutal, absurd method!"
The memory surfaced unbidden—Hashirama, laughing as he wrestled the Nine-Tails into submission, shoving its own attacks back down its throat. The same technique. The same result. The same spirit.
If only you could see this, Hashirama. If only you could see this boy.
But the laughter cost him. A coughing fit seized his wasted body, and when he lowered his hand, his palm was flecked with blood.
"Madara-sama!" Black Zetsu's concern was calculated, but his words were appropriately urgent. "Your health!"
Madara waved him off. His eyes never left the battlefield. But the Sharingan in his control was fading—he could feel it. The distance, the borrowed eyes, the failing body—all of it was taking its toll.
"The show ends here," he murmured. "For now."
His pupils shifted, and the connection broke.
On the battlefield, the three tomoe in King Mu's eyes faded.
The beast blinked. Shook its massive head. Looked around at the devastation, at the golden Buddha still standing before it, at the small human shape at its center.
And slowly, carefully, it rose.
Its eyes were different now—clear, aware, free. It regarded Ragnar with something that might have been respect, might have been wariness, might have been the first stirrings of something neither of them had names for.
*"I remember you, human."
The voice echoed in Ragnar's mind—a direct mental communication, bypassing ears and language.
Ragnar met its gaze without flinching. "You were controlled. The fault is not yours. If you seek vengeance, you know where to find me."
A long pause. The Five-Tails studied him with ancient, knowing eyes.
Then, slowly, something like approval flickered in their depths.
*"The Jinchuriki is dead. I am… free."
Without another word, without another sound, King Mu's massive form began to dissolve. White steam rose from its body, carrying it away like mist before the sun. In seconds, the beast was gone—leaving only Gōki's broken body lying in the center of the crater.
Ragnar looked down at the Jinchuriki's corpse. Expressionless. Then he turned away.
The Buddha began to walk.
Toward the remnants of the Iwa and Suna forces.
The Iwa ninja did not run. They did not fight. They simply… collapsed.
Nōhei sat in the mud, his face blank, his mind refusing to process the scale of defeat. The Jinchuriki was dead. The Five-Tails was gone. Their army was shattered.
When the massive golden shadow fell over them, they did not even look up.
Ragnar ignored them. They were broken. Finished. Not worth the effort.
Instead, the Buddha's gaze fixed on the Suna forces—on the Third Kazekage, standing at their head, surrounded by the remnants of his sand iron.
The golden colossus stopped. Its voice, when it came, echoed across the silent battlefield:
"You have two choices."
The Kazekage's jaw tightened.
"Fight me, and die."
A pause. The Buddha's eyes—Ragnar's eyes—held no threat. No malice. Only simple, absolute truth.
"Or surrender, and withdraw from the Land of Rain."
The Third Kazekage stared up at the golden god who had destroyed his ultimate attack, killed his quasi-Kage, humiliated his army, and now stood before him offering… mercy.
His hands clenched at his sides.
His pride screamed at him to refuse. To fight. To die with honor, as a Kage should.
But behind him, his ninja watched. Terrified. Broken. Hoping—praying—that their leader would choose wisely.
The Kazekage closed his eyes.
Opened them.
And spoke.
(End of Chapter)
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