The inferno raged.

  The combined firestorm of Gamayu Endan and Daitoppa roared toward its target, the very air distorting under the sheer heat. Shinno, caught in the heart of it, could do nothing. The battlefield glowed a blinding orange as flames surged forward, an unrelenting tide of destruction.

  Konoha had victory within its grasp.

  But fate wouldn’t let them claim Shinno’s life.

  Thick, obsidian gates burst from the ground, ancient and foreboding.

  The Demonic Incarnation Gates.

  Towering monoliths of cursed energy slammed into place, each one etched with grotesque markings, resembling the head of demons. They blocked the attack in its entirety. Not even letting a flicker of ember pass.

  Jiraiya’s breath hitched. Impossible.

  Hiruzen’s grip tightened around his staff. He recognized the technique. His eyes narrowed, trying to pierce through the flickers of embers, and soon settled on a figure.

  A slow, familiar chuckle echoed through. From behind the massive gates, a lone figure emerged.

  His golden eyes gleaming with unnatural clarity. His pale, snake-like features stretched into a mocking smirk as he took in the stunned expressions of his audience.

  "Looks like you need a little hand, Shinno."

  Jiraiya’s expression twisted into rage. "OROCHIMARU!"

  His furious cry ripped through the battlefield, but the man before him merely smiled—calm, unfazed, acting as if they were nothing more than old acquaintances meeting by chance.

  "Jiraiya," he greeted, inclining his head slightly. "Hiruzen-sensei… you both look well, all things considered."

  Jiraiya bristled, his hands clenching into fists, but Orochimaru had already turned his attention back to Shinno.

  "That was quite the spectacle," he mused. "But it seems the tides have turned, haven't they?"

  Shinno exhaled sharply, his shoulders rising and falling as his chakra struggled to stabilize. Even with the Reibi’s power, he was wounded—the battle had drained him. He studied Orochimaru for a long moment before finally giving a small nod.

  "Perhaps it is time to leave."

  Orochimaru’s smirk widened. "A wise decision."

  And then—the sky shifted.

  A low hum vibrated through the battlefield, eerie and unnatural. Shadows coiled around Shinno’s form, his body pulsating with Reibi’s power as his chakra connected to something far beyond.

  The Ancor Vantian—the massive fortress of the Sky Ninja—began to tremble. Engines roared to life.

  The ground beneath them quaked, a deep rumble reverberating through the ruins of Konoha as a massive chakra surge flooded the air. Shinno's form blurred, merging with the energy, his presence melding into the very core of the vessel.

  Orochimaru, standing behind the gates, looked upon the village with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he turned his gaze toward Jiraiya.

  A flicker light passed through his golden eyes—a challenge? A taunt? A promise? And before the Toad Sage could react. They were gone.

  The Ancor Vantian vanished. Along with every last Sky Ninja.

  A massive, deafening silence followed.

  Jiraiya, Hiruzen, and the remaining Konoha forces could only watch as the behemoth of a fortress faded from existence. The oppressive energy that had filled the battlefield moments ago was now gone, leaving behind only destruction.

  A huge, empty crater stretched out before them.

  Jiraiya’s breath was ragged, his body still thrumming with adrenaline. His mind refused to quiet, replaying the battle in sharp flashes. They had fought with everything they had. And yet… His gaze turned toward what remained of his village.

  Konoha lay in ruins. The streets were unrecognizable. Buildings that had once stood proudly were nothing more than shattered remains. The village’s heart had been hollowed out, leaving behind only dust and silence.

  Beside him, Hiruzen took a deep breath, his staff vanishing in a puff of smoke as Enma, the Monkey Boss, appeared at his side.

  “Hiruzen, are you alright?” Enma asked, stepping forward, concern in his golden eyes.

  The Hokage shook his head. His injuries were severe, but he could not afford to be anything but alright. Not now. Not in front of his people.

  Without another word, he leapt high into the air. One of Danzo’s hawks swooped down, catching him on its back, carrying him above the devastation. From this height, the extent of the destruction was clearer than ever. The broken streets, the bodies pulled from the wreckage, the survivors standing in stunned silence. His chest ached, from exhaustion, but mostly from the weight of his responsibility.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he steadied himself, then spoke, his voice booming across the ruins.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “The enemy has been vanquished!”

  Heads turned. The wounded, the grieving, the lost—one by one, they lifted their eyes to the figure in the sky.

  “The enemy has been vanquished!” He repeated, stronger this time, forcing the words into their hearts. Silence stretched, but he could feel them listening.

  “Look around you! Look at what we have lost! It would be easy to despair, to fall into sorrow. But we are not weak. We are not broken. We are not defeated!

  “We have suffered. And yes, we will mourn the dead. We will grieve for those who are no longer with us. But we are still here. We are still standing. We are still Konoha!

  His voice grew fiercer, his will burning through the air.

  “Our enemies? They flee. They hide. They lick their wounds like cowards. They believed they could break us, that we would fall. But they have failed!

  “We will rebuild. Brick by brick, stone by stone, we will rise stronger than before. We will make our village even greater than it was! And when our enemies dare to return, they will find us standing, unshaken, ready to meet them with fire in our hearts!

  “Because we are Konoha! We do not yield. We do not break. We endure! And we will have our revenge!”

  A murmur rippled through the village, then a shout. One voice, then another, then dozens, hundreds, rising into a thunderous cry. The Will of Fire had not been extinguished. It burned in every heart, in every survivor.

  Hiruzen closed his eyes for a brief moment, the weight in his chest lifting. This was why they fought. Not just for vengeance, but for each other. For the village.

  For the future.

  The survivors raised their voices together in a deafening roar that echoed across the ruins of their home. Fists clenched. Eyes burned with determination. The darkness that had once clouded their hearts was shoved aside by something fiercer, something fiery.

  Hiruzen landed lightly on the cracked earth, his feet kicking up a small cloud of dust as the hawk veered away. He exhaled; his body weary but his mind sharper than ever.

  The remnants of the strike team that had taken down the Ancor Vantian arrived soon after. Their armor and gear bore the marks of battle—torn cloth, dried blood, and scorched metal—but their eyes remained focused. They had struck the enemy's heart, and though the cost had been steep, they had emerged victorious.

  Among them, Shikaku Nara was the first to step forward, rubbing the dried blood on his temple as he let out a tired sigh.

  "The outer districts took less damage," he said. "If we move the survivors there, we can stabilize things while we begin reconstruction. We’ll have shelter, and it’ll be easier to organize food distribution and medical care away from the worst of the destruction."

  Hiruzen nodded. "A sound plan. Find someone to help you organize the evacuation."

  Danzo arrived last. His one visible eye swept across the devastation, and though he remained impassive, there was no mistaking the tension in his stance.

  "We are vulnerable in this state," he said, arms folded behind his back. "The enemy was bold enough to attack us once. Others may see an opportunity. We need immediate defensive measures."

  Hiruzen met his gaze. Hesitating for a second. The scene of Hiashi Hyuga miraculously coming back from the brink of death replaying in his mind. But ultimately, he chose to not breach the subject. At least, not at this time. "The remaining ANBU and available chunin will establish a perimeter around the village."

  Jiraiya, still watching the village, finally spoke. "Food and water will be an issue," he murmured. "With the market district gone, we won’t last long on our current reserves." He crossed his arms, brow furrowed. "I'll reach out to our allies—Konoha still has friends. They’ll send supplies if we ask."

  Hiruzen’s expression darkened for a moment. Friends? The Leaf had allies, but in the world of shinobi, assistance was never given freely. There would be costs, deals to make, concessions to be granted. But survival came first.

  "Do it," he said.

  Shikaku stretched his sore shoulders. "I'll get going then. The faster we evacuate, the earlier we can clear out the rubble and start rebuilding."

  Hiruzen turned his gaze over the village once more, watching the flickers of movement in the ruins.

  Orders were already being carried out. Civilians were being escorted to the outer districts where makeshift shelters would be established. Shinobi squads were quickly established and formed search-and-rescue teams, digging through the wreckage for survivors.

  Jiraiya stood beside Hiruzen, both watching as Konoha stirred back to life. The destruction was undeniable, but so was the resilience of its people. Even in ruin, the village refused to die.

  “I should get going soon. The sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back with supplies.” Jiraiya voiced after a moment of silence.

  Hiruzen didn’t immediately respond. His gaze remained fixed on the village, deep in thought. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice quieter than before.

  “I’m getting old, Jiraiya.”

  The Sannin blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected admission. “Well… yeah, Sensei, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but your hair’s been looking grayer than usual.”

  Hiruzen chuckled dryly, but there was little humor in it. He looked down at his wrinkled hands, hands that had once been so steady, so sure. “It’s more than just age,” he admitted. “It’s the weight of my mistakes.”

  Jiraiya’s expression shifted, his usual lightheartedness fading.

  “The Fourth is dead, and it was my failure that forced me to take the hat again. I should have built a stronger foundation for Minato, should have ensured he had more support. Instead, I left him to handle everything on his own… and we lost him.”

  Jiraiya’s jaw tightened. Even after a dozen years have passed, he still carried the weight of Minato’s death on his mind. His failure to be there, to protect his student, haunted him more than he cared to admit.

  Hiruzen went on. “There have been too many cracks in the village. The Hyuga abduction attempt, Naruto’s situation, spies and infiltrators slipping past our defenses.” He sighed, shaking his head. “And then there’s the Uchiha Massacre. That… that was my greatest failure of all.”

  Jiraiya stayed silent, letting the words settle.

  “They were our own people,” Hiruzen murmured. “And we let it come to that. I let it come to that. I thought I could balance it all, keep the village stable—but stability built on blood is no stability at all.” He exhaled, his gaze darkening. “And now this… the Sky Village’s attack. Another threat I failed to see coming.”

  Jiraiya crossed his arms. “Sensei, you couldn’t have known—”

  “No,” Hiruzen cut him off gently. “A leader must know. A leader must anticipate, prepare, protect.” He looked at Jiraiya then, his gaze sharper, more focused than it had been all day. “And a leader must know when it’s time to step aside.”

  Jiraiya felt something shift in the air. Hiruzen didn’t say it outright, didn’t name him as the next Hokage, but Jiraiya wasn’t a fool. He knew what his sensei was implying. And he cut right into the heart of the subject. “I’m not cut out for it.”

  Hiruzen smiled faintly. “I won’t force you, Jiraiya. But think about it. Not just about the village as it is, but about what it could be. What it should be.”

  Jiraiya looked away, his jaw tightening. Clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

  Hiruzen didn’t push further. He simply let the words hang between them, letting the silence say the rest.

  Finally, Jiraiya sighed. “I’ll gather the supplies, talk to our allies. But while I’m gone… don’t do anything reckless, old man.”

  Hiruzen chuckled. “I think I’ve done enough of that for one lifetime.”

  Jiraiya hesitated, then nodded before turning toward the outskirts of the village. Hiruzen watched him go, a silent hope in his eyes. He didn’t know if Jiraiya would ever accept the mantle, but at the very least he would think about it.

  And as the sun dipped lower, Hiruzen turned back to his village. There was still work to be done.

  AN: And done. We get back to Ando in the next chapter. I just wanted to say that the reason why this arc has been going on for so long (around 8 chapters actually), was because I wanted to take my time to establish one of the main villains of this story.

  Thanks for reading!