The dinner lasted until nearly midnight.
Zeri and the trio—Renjiro, Meri, and Maemon—ate and laughed together, the lingering tension of the battlefield was almost completely forgotten.
The gathering did more than fill their stomachs; it strengthened their bonds and eased the ever-present weight of war from their shoulders.
Had it not been for Zeri insisting they call it a night, the little feast might have stretched until dawn. Before parting, the four agreed: next chance they got, they'd do this again.
Crrkkk!
"Take a good rest. We might have a new mission tomorrow." Zeri said with a smile as he gently opened the door.
Cool night air swept in—it was both refreshing and damp with moisture.
"Huh? When did the fog get this thick?" Zeri muttered as he looked around.
At some point during their meal, a thick mist had silently crept over the entire camp. But this wasn't ordinary fog—it was the kind so dense that even a single meter ahead was swallowed in white.
Yet, caught up in their laughter and conversation, none of them had noticed it until Zeri opened the door.
Still, they were in the Land of Waves. Fog was nothing unusual. Zeri didn't give it more than a passing glance.
Renjiro didn't think much of it either—until the warning sirens of Arkain rang out in his mind.
[Alert! Alert! Danger detected!]
[Large chakra signature detected! Classification: Hostile.]
"Large-scale chakra?" Renjiro looked completely lost: "What is this…?"
Fusshhh!
Before he could process the alert, shrill alarms cut through the camp.
Then—three blood-red flares streaked into the sky.
"Red alert? And three of them?!" Everyone froze.
"The camp is being attacked!" Meri gasped, eyes wide opened as she looked to the sky.
"It must be the Mist—they're attacking us!" Maemon said, his usually calm face now looked tense and solemn.
"Damn it!" Zeri's face turned grim. In fact, his expression looked even worse than the trio's.
They all knew what a red flare meant—maximum emergency status. Everyone in the camp was to be on high alert. But three red flares? That signaled something far worse.
It meant the camp had already been breached!
"How could they have broken through our lines so quickly?" Renjiro asked solemnly. But no one answered him.
Whoosh!
Because in the next second—they all felt it.
A monstrous wave of chakra.
And it wasn't just raw chakra—it was filled with malice and killing intent. The terrifyingly dense aura made Zeri's team feel as if they were suffocating, as though a mountain were pressing down on both their bodies and spirits.
"Enemy attack!"
Suddenly, a loud shout echoed through the camp, cutting through the dark night.
Then, the fog began to peel back—rapidly.
And as it thinned, shadowy figures emerged from within, one by one, like ghosts stepping out of a dark abyss.
The Mist had attacked!
An army of Mist shinobi surged forth from the fog in a silent wave. At the center, dozens of Mist-nin stood in a wide semicircle, forming hand seals in eerie, perfect unison.
"What are they trying to do?!" Renjiro's eyes widened in shock as he watched their movements.
The chakra they were releasing wasn't just large—it was colossal, unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
"Stop them! Interrupt that jutsu!" A loud voice rang across the camp.
It was obvious to the senior leaders of the Konoha camp what kind of technique the enemy was preparing. One of them even gave the order to halt it—but it was already too late.
As the final hand seal was completed, dozens of Mist-nin shouted in unison:
"Water Style: Great Waterfall Jutsu!"
---
"This—" Renjiro could only watch in awe and horror.
WHOOSH!
It was as if the sky itself had collapsed.
A towering wall of water—like an ocean falling from above—came crashing down.
It didn't look like ninjutsu at all. It looked like a natural disaster. It looked like a furious tsunami, not just an A-rank jutsu.
Boom!
Whoosh!
The camp stood no chance. Houses, tents, barricades—everything Konoha had built—was swept away like driftwood.
The Konoha camp, once perched on high ground, was instantly transformed into a submerged swamp. The sudden flooding defied logic—and erased the camp from the Land of Waves.
Renjiro acted on instinct. Without hesitation, he shouted inwardly: "Arkain—turn on Observation Haki Mode—x100!"
For the first time, Renjiro activated Arkain's cognitive acceleration—boosting his thinking speed by a factor of 100.
Renjiro knew the risks—the strain it would put on his brain could be severe, even dangerous. But in that moment, he had no other choice.
It wasn't just a desperate move to save himself—it was the only chance to protect his companions as well.
In that flash of hyper-slowed time, he pinpointed the one possible action—the only move that could save his teammates: The rope by the doorway.
"Grab the rope! Tie yourselves together!" Renjiro shouted loudly.
Zeri and the other two obeyed without hesitation.
"Prepare for the impact!" Renjiro shouted again, his voice became solemn as he saw his team members secure the rope around their waists.
Seconds later, the flood struck.
Whoosh! BOOM!
The shockwave shattered their quarters. The rope was the only thing that kept the four of them from being swept away into the current and lost.
"Hold tight!" Seeing the terrified faces of Meri and Maemon, Zeri said with difficulty as he tried to resist the raging torrent.
Still, they were thrown into chaos—spinning, tossed, and battered by the sheer force of the water.
---
Eventually, after a few minutes, the terrifying current subsided, but the damage had been done.
The Konoha forward camp in the Land of Waves was gone—flattened and drowned beneath the flood.
What remained was a field of devastation: shattered buildings, scattered equipment, and surviving shinobi—drenched, bleeding, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
They stood amid the wreckage, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
From the hills to the north, the Mist-nin appeared again—but this time, they did not hide.
They advanced in the open, and their numbers had multiplied. What had begun as a skirmish had now become a proper, organized army.
"Prepare for battle!"
The command echoed across what remained of the Konoha camp.
The surviving shinobi quickly gathered, rallying themselves for the next confrontation.
Then, from the mist—Uchiha Fugaku arrived, his Sharingan was blazing, and his clan members at his back.
Moments later, Hyuga Hiashi and Hizashi appeared with their clan members.
"Uchiha Clan!"
"Hyuga Clan!"
Their arrival sparked a surge of morale among the surviving Konoha forces.
"Fuguki Suikazan…!" Fugaku shouted furiously as he took in the ruined camp.
Across the battlefield, the mountain-sized Mist-nin stepped forward, dragging a monstrous blade behind him, his massive figure was oozing killing intent.
"Hmph! You dared to attack our special squad to steal our cipher codes." Fuguki sneered and said: "Did you really think there wouldn't be retaliation? The difference is—we're smarter than you Konoha fools. And our plan worked."
"You damn bastard!" Fugaku snapped, his fury was boiling over: "You will pay for what you've done. I'll kill you with my own hands!"
As one of the two highest-ranking commanders in the camp, it was Fugaku's duty to protect it.
But now, with the camp destroyed under his watch, his fury wasn't just understandable—it was justified.
The Uchiha clan's reputation was already strained within the village. If Danzo and the two elder advisors wanted to further tarnish their name, this incident would be the perfect opportunity.
"Kill me?" A glint flashed in Fuguki's eyes as he sneered: "Well, well… I didn't expect an Uchiha to stay loyal to Konoha—after everything they've put your clan through."
It was clear that Fuguki knew exactly what the Uchiha were enduring in Konoha—the silent suppression orchestrated by Danzo and the elders. He deliberately chose his words to provoke Fugaku, hoping to push him into saying something reckless—irreversible.
If Fugaku publicly criticized the Third Hokage, it could fracture the unity of Konoha's forces stationed in the Land of Waves.
Fuguki understood how deeply respected the Hokage was among Konoha's shinobi. Even if such a split didn't happen immediately, the damage would fester like a wound over time.
And this was war. No one knew when it would end. Setting traps—political or otherwise—was just another long-term strategy on the battlefield.
Fugaku's expression darkened instantly—Fuguki's words had struck a deep nerve.
But before Fugaku could respond, Hiashi stepped forward, his tone was cold as steel: "Enough talk. You'll pay for what you've done."
Fuguki sneered again: "The Hyuga Clan… still upset about that little eye we took?"
He grinned wickedly and added: "That Byakugan is in excellent hands now. The Fourth Mizukage personally gifted it to one of our most talented shinobi. Quite a useful tool, I must say."
"Damn it!" Hiashi's face went white with rage. The veins around his temples bulged as his Byakugan activated with a sharp pulse.
"Enough! Talk time's over!" Before Hiashi could move, Ibiki stepped forward, his face looked more brutal than usual: "Let's fight."
Fugaku and Hiashi exchanged a glance—then gave the order in unison: "Kill them all!"
"Kill!!"
Behind them, the surviving Konoha shinobi roared in fury and pain, charging forward like a tidal wave.
Across the field, Fuguki smiled cruelly and shouted back: "Leave none alive!"
---
Author's Note:
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