The Third Kazekage smirked as the massive cloud of magnetic sand swallowed the silver-haired punk whole.
"Still trying to act cool while being buried alive? Pathetic."
Then—
FLASH.
A blinding burst of white light flared from the heart of the iron storm.
The Kazekage's smirk twitched.
"...Huh?"
The light wasn't normal. It wasn't chakra. Not fully, anyway. It disrupted the air, made the desert itself flinch. For a brief mont, even the iron sand seed confused.
Sasori, who had been making a very subtle exit stage-left, froze mid-step. He slowly turned, eyes narrowing.
What the hell was that?
CRACK.
The sound rang out like a hamr hitting glass. A second later, the ground beneath them shook—no, quaked—like the desert was trying to distance itself from whatever was happening in the center of that storm.
The Kazekage's composure broke.
"What the hell did that kid do?!"
He could still sense Zeldris in there. Still alive. Still standing.
No wild chakra surges. No jutsu being cast. Just that light—foreign, oppressive, and totally uninterested in the laws of physics.
Sasori's jaw clenched.
Did I misread him?
The iron sand—so proud a mont ago—suddenly stopped. Midair. Dead still.
Then, like a tantrum that ran out of energy, it... collapsed. Dropped like wet clay and scattered into the wind. In seconds, it was just sand again. Useless. Harmless.
Silence claid the battlefield.
And from the center of the wreckage, Zeldris stood—completely untouched. Calm. Irritatingly calm.
His silver hair swayed in the breeze, his expression unreadable. Not smug. Not angry. Just... done.
Beneath him, the ground cracked like a spiderweb—silent testimony to whatever cosmic law he just violated.
The Kazekage stared, mouth slightly open. "That wasn't... chakra. That wasn't ninjutsu."
He clenched a fist. "Who is this kid?"
He'd fought wars. Led armies. Gone toe-to-toe with legends.
But this?
This was new.
Zeldris tilted his head slightly.
No words. No threats. Just the world's most annoying half-smile.
The Kazekage bristled. "Tch. You've got tricks, I'll give you that. No wonder you're so damn cocky."
Zeldris blinked once. Still said nothing.
That silence was getting personal.
The Kazekage's eyes darkened.
"People like you? You don't get to walk away. Not when you can threaten an entire village."
Chakra surged again, thick and swirling with rage. The iron sand rose from the earth once more—less elegant this ti, more angry snake pit.
Zeldris finally spoke. Calm. Even bored.
"You want to kill ?"
He lifted his glowing fist again. That sa blinding light pulsed over his knuckles, humming like it was hungry.
"Then I really hope that wasn't your best."
The Kazekage narrowed his eyes.
That light—was that what destroyed my jutsu earlier?
He didn't wait to find out.
"Magnet Release: Iron Sand Drizzle!"
Thousands of needle-thin projectiles scread through the air, black and gleaming like angry hornets. A lethal rainstorm moving at sonic speeds.
Sasori flinched.
Even from a distance, it looked like overkill. Nothing—nothing—could stand in that.
Except, apparently, Zeldris.
He didn't dodge.
Didn't blink.
Didn't care.
Instead, he muttered like a man explaining basic math:
"You still don't get it."
He pulled back his fist—
And punched.
CRACK!
It wasn't a sound. It was a statent.
The air in front of him fractured. White lightning-shaped cracks lanced out, not in the sand or the sky—but in space itself.
The Kazekage's breath caught.
"He... broke the air?"
"No," Sasori whispered. "He broke reality."
The iron sand needles never hit.
They just—vanished—the mont they entered the warped space around Zeldris's fist.
No explosion. No impact.
Just... gone.
And Zeldris?
He stepped forward in classic JoJo style.
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