Just as the wounded shinobi screamed, a fireball appeared before him like a ghost, about to take his life.
An elite jōnin beside him immediately rushed forward and struck the fireball with the weapon in his hand. The fireball itself wasn't large—only about the size of a palm—so blocking it with a kunai worked perfectly.
"Bang!"
The fireball was extinguished, and the kunai inside flew out, landing on the ground nearby, still radiating heat.
But that only stopped one fireball.
More fireballs continued to streak in from afar without end.
They were like the scythes of the Grim Reaper, harvesting lives inside the trench again and again.
Genin had no chance of dodging at all, dying one after another under the fireballs. Chūnin had only a slim chance—out of ten, at least seven would be killed.
Only jōnin could reliably block or evade them.
But that was only when they were in good condition. Any jōnin who had already withdrawn from the front line with injuries had no strength left to dodge or defend and could only be taken by the fireballs.
The Iwa commander's face twisted with rage, veins bulging across his forehead.
"Damn it! Where are these attacks coming from?! Find them! All units, cease the assault! Locate the source of those attacks!"
As his roar rang out, the advancing Iwa forces slowed, and even the smoke and noise of the battlefield diminished somewhat.
Their trench had originally been dug outside the effective range of Konoha's ninjutsu. The distance between the two trenches made it difficult for either side to strike the other directly.
But now, this place was no longer safe.
If they couldn't stop this kind of attack, they would fall completely into a disadvantage.
With the fighting at the front easing, visibility improved, making it easier to observe the Konoha trench.
Yet even then, the fireballs did not stop. They continued harvesting Iwa lives.
At last, they spotted where the attacks were coming from.
"Behind them! Behind the Konoha trench—there's a watchtower! The attacks are coming from there!"
A sharp-eyed Iwa shinobi saw the trajectory of the fireballs. Though they moved fast, there was still a faint trail.
The moment he finished shouting—
"Bang!"
A fireball pierced straight through his head. Half his skull gone, his body collapsed limply to the ground.
Far away, Hyūga Akira muttered, "Standing that close? If I don't shoot you, who will I shoot?"
He was completely absorbed in harvesting kills and hadn't even noticed the enemy assault had slowed—or that he had exposed his own position.
Inside the Iwa trench, although that shinobi had died, the information about the watchtower had already reached the commander. A jōnin was reporting urgently.
"Sir, the enemy is far behind the Konoha trench. We can't reach that position."
"How are they doing this…" the commander frowned deeply. What kind of technique could strike from that far away? He had never heard of Konoha possessing such an ability.
Throwing weapons that far was impossible… or maybe not entirely impossible. Tsunade of Konoha might manage it—but how could anyone throw with such precision?
And the position was behind Konoha's trench. They couldn't even break through Konoha's defenses, let alone attack that far back.
"…Withdraw!" the Iwa commander said through clenched teeth.
Unable to break through and forced to endure constant losses from the watchtower, retreat was their only choice.
Even a single person up there was killing more of them than had died in all their assaults at the front.
Shinobi were highly mobile fighters; even in the chaos of battle, deaths didn't come easily. After days of fighting, they had only lost a dozen or so men.
Yet in this short time, the enemy had already killed more than that.
Retreat was the only option.
The commander glared toward the watchtower, eyes bloodshot.
If they couldn't deal with that kind of long-range attack, their offensive was effectively finished.
…
The Iwa forces withdrew.
Driven back by Hyūga Akira alone.
If they stayed, casualties would only rise with no gains to show for it, so they retreated.
Cheers erupted throughout the Konoha trench.
This was the first time they had forced Iwa to pull back.
The Sarutobi clan commander let out a quiet breath of relief. The Iwa assault had been relentless these past days, leaving him no rest.
He glanced toward the distant watchtower, knowing the credit belonged to that ANBU operative—codename Player.
Striking into the trench from such a distance… Even if he traded places with the Iwa commander, he wouldn't have any good way to counter it.
Meanwhile, Akira in the tower was still trying to pick off the retreating Iwa shinobi.
Now that they were on guard, he only managed to kill seven or eight more before they escaped beyond effective range. At greater distances, the power of his attacks dropped significantly.
He looked at the notifications flickering before his eyes.
[Experience +58,153]
That was the total he had earned here: three jōnin, nine chūnin, and more than twenty genin.
"Why'd they leave already? Let me hit a hundred thousand first," Akira muttered.
Still, he knew he had mostly picked off chūnin and genin. The three jōnin had all been badly wounded already, letting him take advantage. Against healthy jōnin, his ultra-long-range attacks weren't nearly as effective.
"Player-jōnin, you can come down and rest now," someone called from below the tower.
Akira clicked his tongue. "They're already calling me 'jōnin,' but that old geezer Sarutobi Hiruzen still won't even promote me to chūnin."
What a joke.
He leapt lightly down from the tower. Waiting below was a young Inuzuka girl with a ponytail.
"Player-jōnin…" she said, blushing slightly.
Akira, however, looked mildly disgusted.
Why were all the ones who liked him these little kids?
He didn't like lolis—he liked mature women!
…
A group of Konoha shinobi were celebrating. Somehow they'd gotten hold of game meat and had started roasting it.
Only one group stood apart: the Root members, sitting in the shadows.
It was already night, and the darkness around them seemed even deeper.
Akira bit into a sandwich, gazing enviously at the barbecue in the distance.
"Aren't they afraid of a surprise attack from Iwa?" he asked.
Beside him, Crow swallowed a soldier pill and glanced at Akira up and down, wondering where he'd even produced that sandwich from.
"If you look carefully," Crow said, "they haven't lowered their guard at all. The moment Iwa enters their detection range, they'll be ready to fight."
Akira clicked his tongue. These Iwa shinobi were getting lazy—how could they let the enemy eat so well?
He stood and began walking toward the rear of the trench.
"Where are you going?" Crow asked.
"To test a technique," Akira said, waving a hand.
He wanted to find a way to reliably kill jōnin.
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