Not long after Zeldris and Sasori ghosted into the wind, a squad of elite Sunagakure jōnin rolled up to what used to be—presumably—a desert.
Now? It looked like God got bored and took a sledgehammer to the landscape.
The leader of the squad, a broad-shouldered, no-nonsense type with a permanent scowl, stepped forward and stared.
No one said a word.
The ground was carved up like a butcher's cutting board. Deep trenches. Scorched stone. Residual chakra in the air that made your skin itch.
"…What the hell happened here?" one of them finally whispered.
The captain squinted, clearly trying to decide if this was an enemy attack or a cosmic mistake.
He muttered, more to himself than the others:
"Don't tell me… the Third Kazekage was here?"
That alone made a few throats go dry. They were elite shinobi, sure, but that name hit different.
Without waiting, he barked, "Fan out. Search everything—tracks, chakra, weird smells. I don't care if it's a footprint or a nose hair. I want answers."
"Yes, sir!"
The team scattered, tension riding shotgun on every move.
It wasn't long before one of them yelled, "Captain! Found something!"
He rushed over.
The shinobi held out… a puppet piece.
The captain took it, frowned, and turned it over in his hands.
Definitely Suna craftsmanship.
"…Ours?" one ninja asked.
The captain didn't answer right away. His mind was already racing. If one of our puppet users was involved… this wasn't just a fight. It was a message.
Before that thought could settle, another ninja came sprinting across the sands like he'd seen a ghost—and maybe he had.
"C-Captain! We've got a body!"
Just like that, the mood dropped ten degrees.
They ran.
At the edge of a crater, they stopped. One look, and half of them turned pale.
It wasn't the Kazekage. Relief.
But…
The body was wrecked. Bloodied. Limbs twisted like a ragdoll at the bottom of a pit.
The captain stepped closer. Something glinted beside the corpse.
He knelt, picked it up.
A forehead protector. Cracked. Bloody. Leaf insignia.
"…Konoha," he muttered.
Now everyone tensed.
Why is a Leaf shinobi dead in the middle of the Wind Country?
"Don't tell me…" one ninja whispered. "Was this an assassination attempt?"
Another chimed in, "You think Konoha actually sent someone to hit the Kazekage?!"
The captain held up a hand. "No theories. Not yet. Get the med-nin."
One of the medical shinobi stepped forward and crouched beside the corpse. After a long, grim inspection, he stood and delivered the kind of line you hope you never hear on a battlefield:
"Internal organs are completely obliterated. Like someone turned this man's insides into red mist."
"…What kind of jutsu does that?" one ninja asked, visibly queasy.
"Not one I want to run into," the medic replied dryly.
The captain exhaled sharply. Enough was enough.
"Bag the body. We're heading back."
Nobody argued.
Later that day – Konoha, Hokage's Office
The atmosphere inside was thick enough to drown in.
A young ninja stood rigidly in front of the desk, reading off a report like it was his own funeral speech.
"…and that's the last intel. The ANBU squad never returned."
Two senior shinobi flanked the desk, grim and silent.
Behind it sat the Hokage.
The old man's hand trembled as it hovered above the report.
"…Fifteen elite shinobi," he said quietly. "An entire ANBU unit. Gone."
His voice cracked like dry wood.
"They were supposed to monitor him. Control him."
A long silence.
Then he whispered the name like it was a curse.
"Zeldris…"
He leaned back slowly, staring out the window.
Outside, the village bustled with life.
But inside?
The storm was already here.
And Zeldris was the eye of it.
----------------------------------------
Support me at patreon.com/Arthorain and read upto 50 Advanced Chapters!