CHAPTER 193: THE WHITE FANG'S BLADE
"This kid... haha!"
Hatake Sakumo's entire body relaxed as relief washed over him. That had been far too close. For a terrifying moment, he had truly believed Ragnar was gone.
But even Dust Release couldn't finish him. Ragnar had once again exceeded every expectation.
Looking at the golden figure standing proudly in the crater, Sakumo felt something warm bloom in his chest—genuine pride. Just as he had always believed, Ragnar had truly become a towering tree. A tree tall enough now to cast its shadow over all of Konoha. Perhaps tall enough to guide the village toward an even brighter future.
That's enough.
Sakumo realized suddenly that he had no major regrets left in life. Though they were never formally master and student, though the bond between them was never formalized, that friendship was real. That connection mattered.
This was the bond of ninja. Where leaves fluttered, the Will of Fire would never be extinguished. Spirit would always be passed down, generation to generation.
Around him, most of the Konoha ninja didn't fully understand Dust Release. They didn't comprehend the true horror of that strange white beam of light. But they heard Sakumo's words—that this was the Tsuchikage's ultimate ninjutsu, the strongest technique of Iwagakure's leader.
And that was enough to shock them.
Tsuchikage. Kazekage. Hokage.
These were the Five Kage—the beings who stood at the very pinnacle of the ninja world! The absolute top of existence!
And such an existence—one of them, at least—had just launched a sneak attack. And Ragnar had blocked it.
Everyone's eyes fixed on the field. Breathing nearly stopped.
This was Konoha's Rakshasa. The god of this single battle.
First he had crushed the Kazekage. Now the Tsuchikage had joined the battlefield. Would he end the same way?
For a moment, shock and anticipation warred in every heart.
On the mountaintop—
Madara, who had been preparing to leave, turned back toward the battlefield. A smile played across his aged features.
"Madara-sama, did you see it? How did Rakshasa escape the Dust Release?" Black Zetsu asked, genuine confusion in its voice.
In its ancient understanding, Dust Release was a power derived from the Six Paths—the strongest type of bloodline ability beneath the Bloodline Net. It should have been absolute.
"I cannot say," Madara replied calmly. "But that no longer matters. The ninja world is vast. There will always be incredible techniques beyond normal understanding. Just as our Uchiha clan possesses two special forbidden techniques available only to the Sharingan—Izanami and Izanagi. Both are ninjutsu capable of subverting reality itself."
"I see..." Black Zetsu fell silent.
Invisibly, the weight Rakshasa occupied in its calculations increased significantly once more.
It wondered silently: could this Rakshasa resist Mother's Yin-Yang Release? That was ninjutsu combining more than six attributes of chakra—power enough to destroy everything in the world.
In the sky above—
Tsuchikage Onoki still maintained his Dust Release hand seal. His hands remained pressed together as he slowly forced down his shock. Deep within his eyes, genuine fear flickered as he studied Ragnar below.
This boy cannot be allowed to live.
At such a young age, he could withstand Dust Release. If he grew even slightly more in the future, what then?
Murderous intent burned behind Onoki's eyes. He gritted his teeth and began frantically mobilizing every drop of chakra remaining in his body, pouring it into the Dust Release crystal surrounding Ragnar.
Dust Release, as long as he continued supplying chakra, would not dissipate.
Of course, the technique's power came at a cost. Its chakra consumption was absolutely enormous—far exceeding normal bloodline limits by an almost absurd margin.
But at this moment, Onoki had only one thought.
Ragnar must die.
He no longer cared about his dignity as Tsuchikage. He no longer cared about the shame of bullying an "ordinary" Konoha ninja.
Ordinary?
This boy was anything but ordinary. One person controlling the entire battle. One person facing thousands of enemies alone. One person resisting Dust Release, destroying a Jinchuriki, and defeating a tailed beast.
Onoki was in his prime now—far stronger than the Third Kazekage. Among the Five Kage, he was a leader, a veteran shadow-level master with decades of experience.
And for the first time in longer than he could remember, sweat appeared on Ragnar's face.
Not because of the Tsuchikage's pressure.
But because of his own condition.
He had pushed himself to the absolute limit in this battle. The Indestructible Golden Body—that forbidden-technique-level ability—had drained the last reserves of his strength. If not for the little slug hidden in his clothing, constantly feeding healing chakra into his muscles to maintain basic function, he might have collapsed already like he had after the last great battle.
But as Onoki's murderous intent intensified, Ragnar's expression only grew colder.
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World—"
Onoki began forming the technique again, preparing to unleash another annihilation upon the exhausted boy.
The skill had not yet released—
But in that instant—
SHING!
Lightning flashed across the sky.
A figure erupted from the earth below, shooting toward the heavens like a thunderbolt, leaving a trail of sharp light in its wake.
That light was sword light.
The sword light of Konoha's White Fang.
At this moment, Hatake Sakumo unleashed his glory and brilliance once more.
White blade. Lightning speed.
A single slash that appeared utterly ordinary—yet somehow conveyed the feeling of returning to nature itself. Endless, indescribable gorgeousness flowed through that simple motion.
It was as if thousands of rays of light had converged upon this single sword.
This was Konoha White Fang's full-power strike, carrying the absolute belief in victory.
Even Tsuchikage Onoki felt a profound crisis in that instant. He was forced to disperse his Dust Release and retreat hastily.
"Captain!" Surprise flashed across Ragnar's face.
In that single, brief moment, the situation on the battlefield had transformed like a kaleidoscope—dazzling and complete.
But Konoha White Fang's sword was not so easily avoided.
The Third Tsuchikage dodged—
TSK!
—but his Tsuchikage robe still caught the edge of that slash. The fabric split open suddenly, a long gash appearing across the ceremonial garment.
"WHITE FANG!" The Third Tsuchikage's roar shook the heavens.
His imperial robe had been cut. This was a tremendous shame for a Tsuchikage—a complete loss of face before the entire assembled army.
And before so many ninja, Onoki's old face had been thoroughly slapped by Sakumo's blade. The humiliation burned.
Below, Hatake Sakumo returned to the earth with a calm expression. He did not possess flight capabilities—he couldn't remain in the air.
"As a Tsuchikage, to sneak attack a junior... if this is how you choose to behave, then Konoha sees no reason to show you courtesy."
Sakumo's voice was ice. He flicked the White Fang blade in his hand, and the weapon sang with light and momentum like a rainbow across the sky. An unsheathed White Fang was definitely the sharpest blade in the ninja world. Unrivaled.
"Despicable..." Onoki's face twisted with rage, though the irony of his words was lost on no one.
Seeing the White Fang take action, the Konoha ninja erupted with excitement. Expressions of admiration and pride covered every face.
White Fang was another spiritual pillar of Konoha—a legend in his own right.
"Are you alright?" Sakumo walked slowly toward Ragnar. Having just performed the White Fang Severance, his entire being remained in a state of intense concentration. His question came in an extremely calm tone, but genuine concern hid beneath the surface.
"Fine." Ragnar nodded. It was the truth—he was not seriously injured. Only exhausted beyond normal measure. The little slug continued feeding him healing chakra, restoring his strength moment by moment. The beauty of the slug's power was its relentless, nurturing quality.
The two stood side by side now, both raising their heads to study the Tsuchikage hovering in the sky above. Both wore identical expressions: calm, assessing, utterly unafraid.
In that moment, the image seemed to freeze for eternity—burning itself into the eyes of every ninja on the entire battlefield.
(End of Chapter)
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