Chapter 101 – Decisive Battle at the Fire Border (3)
At that moment, the Third Raikage's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise dancing across his weathered features. In their previous confrontation, Hatake Kazane had struggled to counter his fearsome Hell Stab: Four-Finger Piercing—let alone parry it directly.
"Has he grown this much in such a short time…?"
That stray thought, fleeting yet potent, sparked a mix of unease and something far more thrilling—excitement. It stirred an ancient hunger deep within the Raikage's core. Yes… this is the opponent I've been waiting for. A true warrior.
Kazane felt it too.
The difference was undeniable. This clash, this moment—they weren't the same as before. His countless hours of relentless training, his honing of sword and will, his sharpened instinct and observation—all of it had brought him to this point. No longer was he merely trying to survive against the Third Raikage.
Now, he stood as an equal.
And if that was the case...
It was time to prove it.
"Ichi Gorilla!"
Kazane's voice rumbled low and steady, like distant thunder before a storm. His left arm bulged grotesquely, veins surfacing like rivulets over steel-hard muscle. The power coursing through it made the very air tremble.
"Ni Gorilla!"
His right arm swelled in tandem, becoming a mirror image of the first. The transformation was raw, primal—his limbs resembling twin steel hammers more than human arms. With both blades clenched and braced before him, Kazane bared his teeth and shouted:
"Ni Gorilla Slash!!!"
A violent surge of raw physical force burst from his form. Chakra twisted around him like a tempest, and with a roar that cracked stone, he brought both blades hurtling down toward the Raikage.
The very earth recoiled beneath him. Grass ripped from the ground, air split open, and clouds scattered.
"What… incredible pressure…!"
The Third Raikage's muscles tensed. In that instant, even he felt the crushing gravity of Kazane's strength. But that only made his grin widen. Yes. Yes! This was it. This was what he craved!
"Hell Stab – Three-Finger Spearhand!!!"
Three fingers of condensed chakra met the dual strike of steel and brute power.
The moment their attacks collided, a cataclysmic shockwave erupted—tearing through the sky above them, shattering the clouds as if the heavens themselves recoiled.
And then… for the first time—
The Raikage was forced back.
He skidded across the battlefield, gouging twin trenches in the dirt. Blood trickled down his chest in thin red lines. They weren't deep—but they were real. Fresh. Painful.
Kazane had struck him.
Not with trickery. Not by exploiting a weakness.
But head-on.
They separated, breath coming faster now—each warrior feeling the toll of the battle creeping in. For all their monstrous endurance, this wasn't an ordinary fight. This was the limit. The edge. The apex of what two men could do with muscle, will, and chakra.
The Raikage stared at his hand. His middle finger bore a clean slash across it. Even his "strongest spear" had been marred.
"That brat… he damaged it…"
The Raikage chuckled.
"Brat... use that technique from before. Let's finish this. One strike."
He wasn't offering a chance—he was demanding closure. The truth weighed heavy on his bones. If they dragged this on, he would lose. Slowly. Surely.
But if they ended it now—there was still a chance to decide it with dignity.
Kazane remained silent.
But the answer came anyway.
Behind him, the shape of a three-headed, six-armed Ashura avatar began to rise. Chakra warped and twisted around him as the spectral figure manifested—its nine arms each gripping a sword that shimmered with deadly intent.
"Asura Style – Nine-Sword Technique!"
Nine blades. Nine points of death. All aimed at the heart of the battlefield's reigning god.
Kazane drew in a deep breath.
He respected this man.
This wasn't about hatred. Or revenge. Or politics.
It was about one thing only—the honor of battle.
He would grant the Raikage a worthy end.
The Third Raikage understood everything in that moment. His sharp eyes, trained by decades of war, saw the future forming in the present.
"After this... one of us will fall."
And he already knew it would be him.
But that was fine.
That was perfect.
Better to die in the fire of combat than slowly fade with age and irrelevance. He had already passed fifty. Soon, his chakra would thin, his muscles soften. He would become a fossil—a shadow of what he once was.
He didn't want to become another Whitebeard.
Once, that old pirate had stood like a colossus—so mighty that entire nations bent to his will. Even the World Government had feared him. But in his twilight years, Whitebeard had become a monument. A stepping stone. A man of legend turned target of the new age.
The Raikage had no desire to suffer the same fate.
He had ruled the battlefield for over a decade. But he had ruled alone. No rival. No equal. No Madara. No Hashirama.
He envied them.
They had each other as rivals, fighting with everything they have.
The Raikage had nothing but memories of battles that bored him. He had become the strongest in a world without challenges, which made him fear death of old age without even finding a warrior capable of drawing everything he had.
Until now.
"Come, Hatake Kazane! Come and claim your title!"
His voice thundered across the plain, crackling with electricity and defiance. Lightning surged across his body as he raised his final spear.
"Hell Stab – One-Finger Spearhand!!!"
The ultimate technique. His sharpest, deadliest strike. A technique that could pierce mountains, vaporize chakra shields—a weapon of pure, fatal precision.
And Kazane met it without hesitation.
"...As you wish."
The Ashura avatar behind him fully solidified—towering, divine, and wrathful. Kazane stepped forward once, the earth beneath his foot shattering from the force.
Then he vanished.
"Ashura – Demon Nine Flash!!!"
"Hell Stab – One-Finger Spearhand!!!"
Steel and lightning tore through the air.
And as heaven and earth held their breath—
Only one would remain standing.
The sharpest blade against the deadliest spear.
The rising sun of a new age versus the unyielding thunder of the old guard.
Would a new king emerge, or would the reigning titan refuse to yield his throne?
Kazane spun through the air with the speed of a cyclone, his nine swords flashing like arcs of divine judgment. Each blade struck in perfect rhythm, guided by precision, instinct, and overwhelming force. They hammered forward in a synchronized barrage—relentless, unwavering.
Opposing him was a single point.
A solitary finger, honed through decades of combat, sharpened by endless battles, and empowered by the Raikage's full Lightning Release Armor. It extended like a divine spear, poised to pierce anything in its path.
And then—
Impact.
The two warriors crossed paths in a blur, their forms vanishing into streaks of light and sound.
A thunderclap rolled through the sky.
The earth trembled.
Time itself seemed to halt.
Kazane landed a few paces ahead, the remnants of his spinning momentum bleeding into his posture. He didn't turn. Didn't look back. He simply paused—then took a breath and lifted his foot.
And walked forward.
Each step was calm. Measured.
As if he already knew the result.
Just moments ago, the Raikage's thunderous roar had shaken the battlefield. Now, silence hung over everything like a funeral shroud.
All eyes were fixed on the final clash's aftermath.
The shinobi of Kumogakure stared in disbelief. Their faith in the Raikage was absolute. To them, he was a god—an invincible warrior whose strength had never wavered.
They waited for Kazane to fall. To collapse.
To show some sign that their Raikage had triumphed once more.
But across the field, the shinobi of Konoha held their breath in dread. Even with Kazane's unmatched achievements… even after surviving the first fight with the Raikage… fear lingered in every heart.
For all his power, Kazane was still human.
And the Raikage's name had cast a shadow over generations.
If Kazane had fallen, then no one could stop the Raikage. And the cost would be the fall of Konoha itself.
Then—
They saw him.
Hatake Kazane.
Alive.
Walking forward with no hesitation.
He didn't limp. He didn't falter.
He simply advanced—step by deliberate step—toward the heart of the battlefield, all three swords sheathed as if to imply the outcome.
Behind him, as the dust faded, the Third Raikage stood still.
Unmoving.
Frozen in place like a statue carved from storm and steel.
Confusion rippled through the ranks of Kumogakure.
"Did… did he lose?" someone whispered.
Panic flickered through their voices like sparks in dry grass.
Then, slowly, the Raikage moved.
He turned around to face Kazane's back.
The shinobi of Kumo exhaled in relief.
"He's still standing. That means... he won… right?"
But then the Raikage lifted his hand.
And gave Kazane a thumbs up.
Silence swept the field.
Not disbelief. Not denial.
Just… silence.
And then—
The truth landed like a hammer to the chest.
His index finger was gone.
The same finger that formed the Hell Stab – One-Finger Spearhand. The spear that had pierced a thousand enemies. The weapon known as the strongest in the shinobi world.
Shattered.
Broken.
Defeated.
Kazane had won.
"Hatake Kazane..." the Raikage said, voice calm and resolute, "This era... belongs to you!!!"
A proud smile spread across the Raikage's face. Not bitter. Not resentful.
But fulfilled.
In that moment, crimson lines traced across his body—thin and deep, the invisible aftermath of nine precise sword strikes landing in perfect harmony.
His legs buckled. And with quiet dignity, the Third Raikage collapsed to the earth.
He did not scream. He did not rage.
He simply fell.
He had no regrets.
To die standing—facing a worthy opponent with everything he had—That was the only ending he ever desired.
And in Kazane, he had found that opponent.
The man strong enough to surpass him. To carry the torch forward.
To rule not by legacy, but by strength earned in the fire of battle.
The strongest spear had fallen.
And in its place… stood the next generation's blade.
TN/ I must say, I overdid the editing on this one just to cover flaws of this fight scene.