The larger the explosion, the less sound it makes.Because all the air that could carry that sound... is obliterated by the sheer force of the shockwave.
All across the battlefield, ninja instinctively shut their eyes.Their lungs ached.Their ears rang.Their senses screamed.The pressure was suffocating.
How pitiful.
They came only to witness greatness—to see who would stand at the end.And yet now, they weren't even qualified to watch.
No sound.No sight.Only a trembling earth beneath their feet and the overwhelming sense that something irreversible had occurred.
Time passed.Minutes, maybe hours.No one could tell.
Until the sky—gray and heavy—opened up.
Rain began to fall.
Only then did the world return to them, sound exploding back into their ears like thunderclaps.
The silence was gone.The battlefield was revealed.
And what they saw shattered every assumption they had about power, war, and gods.
"Is… is this real…?"
"Someone slap me. Am I dreaming?!"
"The Shinobi God… the evil spirit… is this really what their battle looks like?!"
At the border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning, the land had been ripped apart.
Not cracked.Split.
A rift, tens of meters wide and stretching for kilometers, scarred the earth—an unhealable wound left by the clash of monsters.
The only junction between the two nations was now annihilated.
"Who… won?! Who survived?!"
The crowd erupted in panic, eyes darting between the rubble and smoking craters.
And then—
They saw him.
Senju Hashirama, the man known as the Ninja God, was kneeling in the mud.
A massive sword wound tore from his left shoulder down to his waist.
His ribs were shattered.His organs—ripped apart.Even with his legendary Wood Style regeneration, he was recovering painfully slow.
Beside him, Uchiha Madara lay in silence. Blood streamed from his lips. His chest barely moved.
Even Senju Tobirama, who had fought from the shadows, now lay unconscious—overwhelmed by the aftermath.
The onlookers gasped.
"Don't tell me… did Konoha lose?"
But they weren't done.
Eyes turned to the opposite crater—toward the center of the blast.
And there he was.The man known as the Evil Spirit of Cloud Shinobi—Zaraki Kenpachi.
He was lying in a pool of blood.
His body was mangled.Ripped in half.Two massive sword wounds cut down his chest, nearly splitting him open.
His ribs, his arms, even his neck—shattered.His flesh—torn away.His mouth leaked blood and pulverized organs.
There was no healing.No recovery.
Only the slow flicker of life as it began to fade.
And yet—
He was smiling.
"Aghk... haah..." Kenpachi coughed blood."Magnificent..."
"This was it..." he whispered, eyes bright with mad joy.
"The ultimate battle. The finest meal I've ever tasted."
He wasn't afraid.
Zaraki Kenpachi had never feared death.
Ever since arriving in this world—after fusing with the soul of his favorite character—he had lived only to fight.
With each victory, he had grown stronger.And lonelier.
Few could challenge him.Fewer could survive him.None could satisfy him.
Until now.
This fight—this clash with Hashirama, Madara, and Tobirama—was everything he'd dreamed of.
A battle that pushed him to the edge of life itself.
And that was enough.
If he lived, good.
If he died, fine.
He would die smiling.
The war ended.
Konoha was declared the victor.Kenpachi's body was retrieved by Cloud Shinobi.
Three days later, a storm raged above the Cloud Hero Cemetery.
A monument was erected.The name Zaraki Kenpachi etched into stone.The entire Land of Lightning mourned.
Cloud Shinobi had lost its greatest warrior.
As for Konoha...
The First Hokage never recovered.His injuries worsened until he succumbed weeks later, and leadership passed to Senju Tobirama.
The battle—dubbed the "War of the Century"—became legend.
The world believed Hashirama had emerged victorious with ease.They whispered of his godlike power.
But those who were truly strong... knew the truth.
Hashirama died from his wounds.Madara fell into a coma for weeks, then vanished.Tobirama inherited a world too broken to understand what had really happened.
Three against one.
And none of them left unscathed.
The stories were written by the victors.But the scars told a different tale.
Even now, years later, the earth remains split.
A massive gash—a permanent reminder.
Where the Land of Fire once met the Land of Lightning, there is now only a rift.
The place where Zaraki Kenpachi made the gods bleed.