Looking at the Fire Daimyō's palace, now reduced to ruins, the Fire Daimyō trembled and whispered, "Protect me... quickly, protect me!"
Having seen the barrier-maintaining ninja collapse, severely wounded, the remaining eleven members of the Twelve Guardian Ninja immediately stepped forward, surrounding the Daimyō with alarmed expressions.
"Rest assured, Daimyō-sama, we are still here. We will not allow any harm to come to you," one of them declared solemnly.
"That's right! If the enemy wants to reach you, they'll have to step over our corpses!"
"We're all elite jōnin. Judging by the enemy's state, they must have used a forbidden technique that strains their own body."
Though the Guardian Ninja tried to bolster morale, what the Daimyō truly wanted was to escape the sight of that green-skinned, spandex-clad monster—his body wreathed in blazing red chakra, like a man engulfed in living fire.
Might Duy, the father of Might Guy, had opened the Eight Gates—all of them. His body was at its breaking point.
"I can only unleash one more attack," Duy thought, both relieved and anxious.
Initially, he had considered repeating the same technique he'd used to defeat the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. But this situation was different. The Guardian Ninja were elite jōnin—surely they could survive the shockwaves. But the frail body of the Daimyō? It wouldn't stand a chance.
Just as Duy struggled with this dilemma, a familiar figure flickered into view—Minato Namikaze, the Yellow Flash, had arrived.
Duy's expression softened with relief. If it were Minato, he could likely teleport away before Duy's final attack struck.
Preparing to shift his target, Might Duy turned toward Minato—only to find himself suddenly paralyzed.
A dark, foreign will seized control of his body.
It was Kawaki Aoba's will that had descended.
Minato, observing the change in Duy's movements, narrowed his eyes. He didn't understand what had happened, but a heavy sense of danger surged in his heart.
He hurled a Flying Thunder God kunai at Duy—but before it could make contact, it was repelled by an overwhelming burst of chakra.
The red aura around Duy flared with renewed fury. It was like Might Guy preparing Night Guy—his life force concentrated into one final, cataclysmic blow. But Duy, whose mastery of the Eight Gates preceded even his son's, was channeling his own final technique.
Minato instinctively moved to stop him, but even he couldn't approach the blazing aura. In this state, even the Yellow Flash couldn't get close without burning up.
"I can't use Night Guy like my son will... but I can still attempt Morning Peacock one last time."
His voice rang out through the scorched wind.
"Nobles' lackeys—watch closely! This is my final chakra! If you don't want your Daimyō to die... then die for him!"
"Eight Gates Technique: Morning Peacock – Final Variant!"
Flames erupted into the shape of a tiger's head, dyed crimson and white, even distorting the very air around it. This wasn't a standard taijutsu move anymore—it was a fusion of chakra, will, and physical might.
The Guardian Ninja froze.
"That attack... it's too powerful! Move the Daimyō—now!"
"It's too late! Form a line! Protect the Daimyō-sama!"
The first to act was a bald monk—Chiriku, a warrior monk of the Fire Temple.
He formed seals and roared: "Thousand-Armed Kannon!"
Behind him, a giant spiritual construct burst forth, its many arms raised in defense. Kawaki Aoba, watching through Duy's eyes, recognized the technique. Even so, it wouldn't be enough.
"Even the Third Raikage would've been shredded by this," Aoba realized.
Chiriku shouted, "Help me! If we combine our strength, we can block him!"
The Guardian Ninja hesitated—but then stepped forward. One by one, they joined Chiriku, knowing this might be the end.
What they didn't see was the guilt in Chiriku's eyes. He had lied.
He doubted even all of them combined could stop the blow—but by forming a shield, perhaps they could weaken it. Maybe the Daimyō's emergency defense tool—gifted by the Fourth Hokage himself—would protect him from the remnants.
He had no time to think further.
In the next instant, the Morning Peacock landed.
No miracle came.
The Thousand-Armed Kannon was obliterated in an instant. The shockwave swallowed everything.
At that moment, the rest of the Twelve Guardian Ninja realized they had walked into a trap. All of them knew—this was likely their end at the hands of Chiriku.
Some clenched their fists, ready to lay down their lives for the Fire Daimyo. Others stared at Chiriku in disbelief, tempted to curse his name. But regardless of their thoughts, none had the chance to leave behind even a will.
Their combined attacks collided with the blazing technique—Morning Peacock. For a brief instant, there was a stalemate. Then, a terrifying roar, like that of a tiger, drowned everything in flames.
Their sacrifice, however, wasn't in vain.
After engulfing the battlefield, the Morning Peacock technique collapsed under its own unstable energy and exploded. After all, this was a spontaneous move unleashed through the manipulated body of Might Duy, not even Might Guy—so instability was inevitable.
Still, even in failure, the explosion's sheer force rivaled, if not surpassed, most S-rank ninjutsu.
A crimson shockwave burst outward in all directions. At its center stood the Fire Daimyo, completely unprepared.
As a sheltered ruler, the Daimyo had never experienced the chaos of war firsthand. He froze in fear, certain that death was moments away.
Just before the shockwave could engulf him, a sudden warmth bloomed on his chest. He remembered—some time ago, the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, had given him a magatama-shaped talisman, explaining it was a high-grade defensive barrier charm.
Could it really protect him?
Before he could open his eyes, the blast's force launched his body skyward. He felt weightless, disoriented—colliding with rubble, tossed like a leaf in the wind. But curiously, he felt no pain.
Driven by fear and curiosity, the Fire Daimyo slowly opened his eyes.
"Ahhh!" he shrieked, his cry echoing like a pig being slaughtered.
He was airborne—soaring through the sky—but somehow still alive. A shimmering golden light encased him, keeping him safe. The barrier cracked under pressure, lines spreading like a spiderweb through glass, but it held.
Barely.
When the Daimyo finally slammed back into the ground, the barrier shattered into specks of golden light, having absorbed the worst of the impact.
Gasping for breath and sprawled on the ground, the Fire Daimyo could only feel gratitude for still being alive.
It was then that Minato Namikaze appeared beside him in a yellow flash.
"Daimyo-sama, are you alright?"
"Ho-Hokage…" the Daimyo stammered, eyes wide with terror. But before he could say more, a flash of lightning lit up the horizon.
Minato's expression darkened. His pupils narrowed.
"The Third Raikage…"
Crackling with black lightning, the Third Raikage charged like a demon, shrugging off pursuit from the Third Hokage, whose speed could not keep up.
Faced with this monstrous force, Minato's instinct was to teleport the Daimyo to safety with the Flying Thunder God Technique. But as he reached for the Daimyo, his hand struck against a residual golden barrier—immaterial, intangible. He couldn't grasp the Daimyo physically, which meant he couldn't teleport him.
The Third Raikage was nearly upon them.
There was no time.
Minato turned to face the threat directly. With the Daimyo an immobile burden behind him, Minato's ability to maneuver freely was severely limited.
Summoning a Rasengan, Minato met the Raikage head-on. Though both were Kage-tier shinobi, Minato knew he couldn't withstand repeated direct hits from the Raikage's power-enhanced assault. His strength was in speed, not brute force.
Fortunately, the Third Hokage was closing in. A two-on-one battle might offer a glimmer of hope.
"HAHAHAHA! The Fire Daimyo, right before my eyes! Never thought I'd be the one to offer him up to Lord Jashin!"
A cackling voice echoed from the shadows—Hidan had appeared near the Daimyo.
Minato turned his head sharply in shock. Impossible! I slit his throat just moments ago…
Yet there he stood—alive, grinning maniacally, his scythe drenched in blood. Some sort of immortality technique…? Minato didn't have time to process it.
The Third Raikage continued to press him, preventing him from breaking away to rescue the Daimyo.
If the Raikage got close enough, the Daimyo wouldn't stand a chance.
Now, Minato could only pray. That Hiruzen Sarutobi would arrive in time. That the barrier charm would hold just a little longer.
Hidan's massive triple-bladed scythe slammed down on the golden light. Sparks flew. A loud, crystalline cracking followed—like glass breaking.
"HAHAHA! This barrier's on its last legs! Let's see how many more swings it can take!"
The Fire Daimyo tried to scramble away, but he was just a man—powerless, untrained. He could barely crawl, let alone outrun a shinobi.
With a final swing, Hidan's scythe struck. The magatama charm shattered in three. The golden light dissolved into glimmering fragments.
"HAHAHAHA! This is it! I'll send you to Jashin-sama myself!"
The Fire Daimyo could only scream as the scythe descended.
But in that final second—BOOM! A puff of white smoke burst out.
Chains of chakra surged from the ground, binding Hidan's arms and scythe in place.
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