A voice drifted through the desert heat—calm, casual, and so out of place it felt almost rude.
"Yo... looks like soone needs a hand."
"?!"
The Third Kazekage spun around like soone had just tugged his cloak. His sharp eyes locked onto a new figure standing atop a nearby dune.
Cloaked in black from head to toe, the stranger stood perfectly still—no chakra signature, no sound, no presence.
He had just appeared.
Even Sasori, who prided himself on having the reflexes of a desert viper, flinched visibly.
"When did he get here?!"
"Why didn't I sense anything?!"
It wasn't just Sasori who felt off-balance. The Kazekage's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked over the stranger with practiced calculation. He hadn't survived as the most feared Kazekage by being careless.
Whoever this was—he wasn't so lost tourist.
The Kazekage's tone cut the silence like a kunai.
"Who are you?!"
The figure didn't answer. He simply lifted a hand and pulled back his hood with deliberate calm.
Silver hair spilled out, catching the desert sun like a blade of moonlight. His face was striking—like a rogue prince from so forgotten clan—with eyes that looked like they'd seen too much and still didn't care.
Zeldris stood revealed, wind rustling the hem of his cloak.
He tilted his head, examining the two figures before him like a bored shopper eyeing fruit.
"You..." he said flatly, "You're the Third Kazekage, yeah?"
The Kazekage bristled slightly. This guy was too relaxed. No bowing, no posturing—just casual acknowledgnt like they were neighbors in a tea shop.
"I am," the Kazekage replied coolly. "And judging by your presence, you're not from the Land of Wind."
"So what exactly are you doing out here?"
Zeldris gave a slow shrug and smiled like soone delivering a punchline.
"Relax. I'm just a passing... worker."
The Kazekage blinked. "...A what?"
Even Sasori, bruised and kneeling in the sand, tilted his head like bro, what?
A worker?
Was that so kind of rogue assassin term? A secret rcenary title?
Zeldris glanced over at Sasori, studying his iconic red hair and doll-like features. Puppet prodigy. Future S-rank criminal. Local neighborhood nace.
And right now?
Flat on one knee, breathing hard, not a puppet in sight.
Huh. So he hadn't turned his body into Swiss clockwork yet. That explained the beatdown.
Interesting. In the original tiline, this guy eventually turned the Third Kazekage into a collectible.
But now?
Sasori was clearly on the losing side of that trade.
Zeldris narrowed his eyes. That ant one thing: the Kazekage really was as strong as the bingo books said.
And yet... the system had led him here.
Tracked the surge of power, dropped a mission on his taphorical lap.
Which ant—
He was supposed to intervene.
Zeldris turned to Sasori and casually called out:
"Sasori."
The redhead flinched at the sound of his na. So did the Kazekage.
"Looks like you need a hand, buddy."
Silence stretched.
...What?
The Kazekage's expression froze. How did this stranger know Sasori's na?
Sasori stared at Zeldris like he'd just claid to be his long-lost cousin. "Do I... know you?"
Zeldris just smiled faintly, like he'd read all the spoilers already.
The Kazekage stepped forward, his tone sharpening like sandpaper.
"Are you his ally?"
"This is an internal matter of Sunagakure. I strongly suggest you walk away."
"Or I'll personally escort you back underground."
There it was—the classic "get lost" energy of soone used to being the biggest chakra in the room.
Zeldris didn't blink.
He just looked mildly unimpressed, like the Kazekage had offered him a diet version of sothing good.
"Didn't I already say?" he replied casually.
"I'm just a worker."
Then, turning back to Sasori with that sa frustrating calm, he added:
"I'll help you take him down."
"But my services?"
He raised two fingers. "Five million ryo."
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