No one knew how long the storm of wind swords raged before Zōshirō finally halted the jutsu.
Only then did the devastation beco clear.
The battlefield where he and Arata Itsuki had clashed was utterly unrecognizable—
not a single intact tree remained, and even the distant rocks had been carved apart into fragnts.
A full kiloter of land had been shredded into barren ruins.
Such was the power of a Kage-level shinobi.
Even a puppet master who never appeared in the original story—
when unleashing himself fully—could produce destruction this terrifying.
Breathing heavily, Zōshirō focused his gaze into the distance and finally spotted Arata.
And Arata… was in the worst condition since the day he crossed into this world.
His clothes were in tatters, covered in countless slashes.
Blood stread continuously from his body.
He had no idea how many tis he'd been struck—
only that none of the hits had been fatal.
At the beginning, when the wind swords were still sparse, he could barely avoid injury.
But the longer the attack went on, the harder this beca.
He was forced to let the swords graze him—
injured, but never fatally so.
Even though he kept widening the distance between himself and Zōshirō,
so wind swords curved mid-flight, turning back like hunting falcons.
His worst wound was on his left arm:
a gash so deep the bone was visible.
If he hadn't forcibly twisted his body using Moon Step at the last mont,
the arm would have been severed cleanly.
Suddenly—on the verge of collapse—Arata lifted his right hand and pointed at Zōshirō.
"Lightning God's Spear!"
A sharp shout.
A finger-thin bolt of lightning burst from Arata's index finger,
traveling so fast it surpassed even his own Raijin Mode speed.
Exhausted, Zōshirō still reacted imdiately, calling his puppets to shield him—
but he was far too slow.
A streak of blue light flashed.
A neat, finger-sized hole appeared in the center of Zōshirō's forehead.
Lightning God's Spear—
Arata's fastest jutsu.
But for that very reason, its power was limited.
At best, it could kill an unguarded puppeteer.
If he had used it earlier, the puppets would have blocked it.
Only now—when Zōshirō was completely drained—did the strike land.
As for Zōshirō's Ten-Thousand-Fathom Wind Execution…
it shattered Arata's understanding of ninjutsu.
He hadn't known a technique could reach such extres.
Still, Arata suspected the jutsu was uniquely effective against him.
Against a ninjutsu-specialized Kage,
a large-scale Fire Style counterattack—taking advantage of elental superiority—
might have blocked it.
Arata couldn't help wondering:
How did Sakumo kill this monster in the original tiline?
Zōshirō was undeniably Kage-class—
his strength completely real.
Did Sakumo later achieve another breakthrough in speed during the Second Great Ninja War,
allowing him to assassinate Zōshirō?
Either way, Arata had just saved Sakumo from a future disaster.
Killing Zōshirō now ant that old hag Chiyo would certainly co for him later.
But Arata would have to deal with that another day—
because at this mont, his vision blurred.
The instant Zōshirō fell, Arata collapsed as well, unable to move a single muscle.
He could only pray—
Please… Sakumo… hurry…
Otherwise, he would die from blood loss.
And that would be the most humiliating death imaginable for a transmigrator.
Fortunately, his prayer was answered.
Monts later, Sakumo arrived on the shredded battlefield.
The mont he saw Zōshirō's corpse in the distance, he froze.
That was his long-ti rival.
They had fought multiple tis without ever deciding a winner.
To think Arata had run into that man…
Looking closer, he noticed the hole in Zōshirō's forehead—
and the complete absence of life.
As Sakumo stared, stunned by Zōshirō's death,
a faint, nearly inaudible whisper reached him.
"Send… … back to Konoha… Tsunade… can save …"
With that, Arata fully lost consciousness.
Only then did Sakumo finally notice Arata lying on the ground nearby.
Surrounded by blood, his body covered in horrific wounds,
Sakumo imdiately understood—
Arata had won, yes, but he had reached the very brink of death.
Though Sakumo wasn't a dical shinobi,
he was a veteran who had survived countless battles.
He rushed over and perford ergency treatnt,
stopping the bleeding within monts.
But the wound on Arata's left arm…
that was beyond anything he could treat.
Only a proper dical-nin could save it—
and quickly.
As commander of the border forces,
Sakumo had the authority
to send Arata back to Konoha imdiately.
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