Chương 105: Melee Rules: See Man, Kill Man

Years ago, the legendary shinobi-turned-author Jiraiya penned a traditional, soul-stirring novel—his debut work, The Tale of the Utterly Gutsy Shinobi. The protagonist's name was Naruto, a moniker Jiraiya had plucked from the narutomaki garnish in his ramen bowl. This hero was a master of "Talk no Jutsu," possessing the uncanny ability to lecture his enemies into a state of sudden enlightenment.

By the final page, the villains would inevitably see the error of their ways, trade their hatred for mutual understanding, and join the hero in a chorus of Kumbaya. This was Jiraiya's vision of peace: a world where empathy could bridge any chasm and silence every sword. The book bombed. Sales were abysmal. Aside from perhaps Yahiko, its only true fan was Minato Namikaze. Following that literary catastrophe, Jiraiya realized that to be a best-seller, one had to swap idealistic sermons for the "Make-Out" series.

He traded the high road for a very lucrative, very pervy, low road. As for his philosophy on peace—drawn from his own temperament and the prophecies of the Great Toad Sage—its roots stretched back to the Sage of the Six Paths himself. In reality, Jiraiya wasn't naive. He understood a fundamental truth: the sermon only works after the fist. To make someone listen to reason, you first have to beat them into a state where they're capable of hearing it. Without strength, you don't get a soapbox; you get a headstone.

So, as the tidal wave of Cloud ninjas surged toward them, Jiraiya wasted no breath on parley. He knew they were baiting the Leaf into the fray, and words were useless against steel. A few seconds of posturing would cost hundreds of lives. With a sharp command, the Konoha shinobi unsheathed their blades, meeting the Cloud vanguard head-on. The Iwagakure forces followed close behind.

There was no preamble, no stand-off—just an instantaneous, violent collision that reduced the three distinct armies into a single, boiling stew of chaos. In a melee this thick, anyone foolish enough to stand on a rock and call for calm would be pinned by a dozen kunai before they could finish a sentence. Survival was simple: keep your eyes sharp, your ears open, and gut anything that didn't wear your headband.

Nearly three thousand shinobi from the Leaf, Cloud, and Stone tore into each other across the craggy hills of the border. The sparse vegetation, once clinging to the rocks like the stubborn patches on a balding scalp, was scorched and uprooted until the land was utterly denuded. The air filled with the roar of slaughter and the copper tang of blood. Zhen and his squad plunged into the meat grinder.

Shuriken and kunai whistled through the air as they carved a path through anything in their way, indifferent to whether their target was Stone or Cloud. They adhered strictly to their training: a tight, fluid formation that traded positions constantly, covering each other's blind spots. When a high-level threat emerged, Jiro and Yuwa took the lead, and the rest of the squad converged for a collective execution. In a war of this scale, there was no room for duelist's honor. Zhen maintained a constant vigil.

Whenever he spotted an enemy attempting to weave signs for a wide-area jutsu, he ended them with a barrage of miniature Invisible Swords. In an era of instant lethality, waiting for someone to finish their hand signs was a luxury only fools afforded their enemies. He stayed at the heart of the formation. Per Unken Gekko's design, Zhen's sensory net was the team's eyes. He was the survival insurance, neutralizing threats before the others even registered them.

Zhen didn't mind the "support" role; personal glory meant little if you returned to find your teammates slaughtered. As his father always told him: The priority isn't the body count; it's making sure you and your kin are still breathing at dawn. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. A squad of fifteen Iwa ninjas charged their left flank. In small skirmishes, Hayate and Yugao might have opted for a flashy Wind Style jutsu to blind their foes.

But Gekko, now back at their side, signaled for a cold, steel-only engagement. This was the divide between a skirmish and total war. In a skirmish, tactics are ornate and jutsu are varied. In total war, once the lines blur, chakra is a finite currency that must be hoarded. You don't waste your tank on a target you can kill with a knife. You conserve your energy for the long haul, lest you run dry and get butchered like a common animal.

Even those with "Chakra-ton" reserves avoided map-clearing attacks for fear of friendly fire. Unless you were Hashirama Senju, whose Deep Forest Emergence had a built-in "Iwa-only" filter, you played it smart. Against the coordinated Iwa squad, Gekko's tactic was brutal in its simplicity: Zhen would execute a mid-air leap, raining down Invisible Swords to shatter their guard. Regardless of the kill count, the rest of the squad would charge into the ensuing panic to finish the job. Two steps. Simple. Lethal.

When you have a teammate who can unleash silent, no-sign ninjutsu, you use him as the hammer. They weren't the only ones using such tactics. Zhen's squad moved like a scalpel through the chaos, rescuing several Leaf units in the process. Some of the more opportunistic groups realized a "thigh" was available to cling to and began orbiting Zhen's team, riding their momentum. Nearby, a series of concussive blasts signaled the approach of another elite unit.

This was an Iwa squad led by a man who cleared the field with singular, explosive punches. Whether they faced Leaf or Cloud, the result was the same: a detonating strike that scattered the formation, followed by a swift cleanup from his subordinates. The two units inevitably collided. The surrounding shinobi—regardless of their village—scattered. No one wanted to be caught between two elite squads looking for blood. Zhen recognized the leader: a lean, tall man with a shock of explosive brown hair.

Unken Gekko had briefed them on this man during their Anbu-led orientations. It was Gari, the Commander of the Iwa Blast Corps and wielder of the Explosion Style Kekkei Genkai. Jiro and Yuwa's faces hardened, their blood boiling with old grudges. Before the Battle of Kannabi Bridge, they had clashed with Gari multiple times. Every scar on their bodies was a bitter reminder of his power.

"That bastard again," Jiro hissed.

"This time," Yuwa added, drawing his blade, "we end that squad for good." Gari spotted the Leaf veterans and cracked a jagged, predatory grin. Recognition was mutual. He leaped into the air, landing in front of them and driving a fist toward the earth at a sharp angle.

"Boom!" A thunderous detonation followed. Dirt and jagged rock were propelled like cannon fire, a saturated barrage of shrapnel aimed squarely at the Leaf formation.

"Cluster!" Gekko roared. Turning tail was a death sentence; nothing outruns a blast-boosted stone. Coordination was their only shield. Zhen flickered to the front, his hands splayed. Chakra flooded from his fingertips, weaving into a translucent, amber barrier that stretched across the path.

"[Earth Style: One-Horned Bulwark!]" The jagged stones hammered against the glowing wall like a hailstorm against a heavy tank. The sound was deafening, but the barrier held firm. Behind Gari, the members of the Blast Corps began hurling white, clay-like masses—varying in shape but all functioning like grenades. Jiro had warned them of this: the Iwa Blast Corps' signature. Gari possessed the Explosion Style bloodline, a fusion of two elements. His subordinates did not.

Instead, they used a specialized secret art, infusing fire-natured chakra into refined clay to create a proxy for the bloodline. It was the same technique used by the young Deidara. Unlike Gari, whose power was innate, the Blast Corps was vulnerable. Without their pre-prepared clay, they were ordinary ninjas. Furthermore, while Gari's bloodline was impervious to Lightning Style, the clay was not. It was why they were deployed against the Leaf and not the Cloud.

Seeing the clay swarm overhead, the Iwa ninjas wove signs in unison, detonating the charges. Fire and thunder swallowed the Leaf position. But the light faded to reveal an unscathed defense. Zhen had shifted his jutsu.

"[Water Style: One-Horned Serenity!]" A pale blue dome of chakra now enveloped his allies, the explosions dying harmlessly against its tranquil surface.