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In the height of summer, Konoha Year 49, the Spearhead of the Sunagakure Army, under the command of the Fourth Kazekage Rasa, reached an unprecedented peak. The campaign's success far exceeded even the wildest hopes of the most optimistic planners.
The Magnet Release: Gold Dust technique displayed terrifying, strategic-level power on the Front Lines. Rasa never needed to set foot on the vanguard; from his central command he could control an ocean of Gold Dust that crushed Konoha's hastily built defenses, fortresses, and even entire forests. The army followed close behind, advancing in near-unstoppable fashion deep into the Land of Fire.
Victory reports flew back to Sunagakure like snowflakes, each one sparking cheers among the villagers. Front-line Sand ninja morale soared as they watched mighty Konoha "retreat step by step," seizing rich lands they had once only imagined and plundering mountains of supplies. A fever of "Konoha is nothing" and "victory is at hand" swept through the ranks.
Sayo's Puppet Company, one of Elder Chiyo's sharp blades, had fought consecutive fierce battles and won brilliant results. His cool command, personal strength, and the Puppet Squad's flawless coordination earned universal praise. Yet the gentle warmth from the pocket body cultivation furnace on his wrist could not dispel the almost tangible dread growing inside him.
This advance… was going too smoothly—so smoothly it was frightening.
Konoha's resistance, though fierce, always felt half-hearted; they fought while falling back, as if executing a pre-arranged withdrawal rather than collapsing in rout. Every "breakthrough" seemed to be a corridor the enemy had deliberately opened. The Sand Supply Line stretched ever farther, like an overextended neck exposed across vast, unfamiliar enemy territory.
At last the massive Sand army stormed forward until its Spearhead pointed directly at a vital strategic hub deep in the Land of Fire—Kikyō Mountain City!
When the silhouette of that mountain-hugging, towering, prosperous and heavily fortified metropolis appeared on the horizon, nearly every Sand ninja erupted in deafening cheers.
"It's Kikyō Mountain City!"
"Once we take it, the gates to Konoha Village will be wide open!"
"Look at all those supplies—see the warehouses!"
"Charge! Seize it!"
The Sand shinobi's eyes gleamed with excitement and greed; weariness from the long march and continuous battles vanished, replaced by hunger for plunder and merit. Even many senior commanders wore confident, victory-assured smiles.
Yet when the name "Kikyō Mountain City" drove itself like a wedge into Sayo's ears, an icy chill shot from his spine to the crown of his head; his very blood seemed ready to freeze.
Kikyō Mountain City!
The place-name was a key that slammed open a long-sealed, mist-shrouded door deep in his memory.
Fragments from his previous life—snippets of short-video commentary—now poured into his mind like broken shards of glass.
"…The Battle of Kikyō Mountain…"
"…the turning point of the Third Great Ninja War…"
"…Sunagakure's crushing defeat…"
"…after this battle, the Third War basically ended…"
Those keywords exploded like thunder in his heart.
Though the details were hazy and the causes unknown, the conclusion was crystal-clear and brutal: the Sand army was destined to suffer a decisive, devastating defeat right here!
His ever-present premonition of unease now found its most despairing proof. This wasn't guesswork; it was cold, fixed "history" seen from another world's perspective.
His face drained of color; he clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into his palms. He jerked his gaze toward the distant city, now bathed in sunset like a coat of blood. It no longer promised wealth and victory—it looked like a crouching beast, jaws agape, waiting for its prey to walk in.
His lips parted; he almost blurted, "Retreat! It's a trap!"
But what could he say? Tell the Fourth Kazekage and Elder Chiyo he'd had a "dream" from a previous life that foretold a crushing defeat here? Tell them he'd seen the war's ending in some "short videos"?
No one would believe him. They'd only deem him a madman unhinged by constant battle, perhaps even execute him on the spot for undermining morale.
A tide of helpless terror washed over him. He could see the cliff ahead, yet he couldn't stop the galloping carriage—could only watch as it thundered, himself aboard, toward the abyss.
He stood amid cheering comrades, yet felt an icy chill. He could only stare fixedly at Kikyō Mountain City, trying to read the hidden trap within its calm façade, his mind racing to find a way—when the inevitable catastrophe struck—to save himself and his company to the greatest extent possible… The Sand army was already at the gates, and the gears of war ground relentlessly toward that fixed, bloody finale.
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