In the gloomy command tent, the final pieces settled on the tactical sand table.
The mysterious figure who called himself the Collector pocketed the trinket he'd been toying with and prepared to leave.
"Wait," Jiraiya's low voice stopped him, tinged with curiosity. "One more question."
His sharp gaze pierced the dim light and locked onto the Collector.
Half-risen, the Collector paused; beneath the fox mask came a faint, almost inaudible chuckle. He settled back, lounging in the chair. "Ask away."
"You waltzed alone into the heart of Konoha's command center," Jiraiya leaned forward, pressure simmering in his tone. "Did it never occur to you that you might never walk out again?"
The question had gnawed at him for a long time; at last he gave it voice.
A low, mocking laugh answered him. "Hah, confidence? A fair bit. Besides," The Collector's eyes, through the mask's narrow slits, swept every tense high-ranking Ninja in the tent before returning to Jiraiya. In the flickering candlelight the painted smile looked eerily unfathomable.
"Does Konoha have enough strength left to make an enemy of someone like me?"
His words were icy needles, skewering the heart of the situation.
The Collector tilted his head slightly, the mask's grin seeming to widen in silence.
"When you first saw me, the fury that wanted to incinerate me, didn't it bow to harsh reality and force itself down?"
A direct hit! Jiraiya's frame stiffened almost imperceptibly; the tent fell so quiet a pin could be heard.
His clenched fist slowly uncurled; a heavy sigh cut through the hush, carrying a leader's helpless compromise.
"Then," Jiraiya's voice steadied, edged with weariness, "when the war horns sound, how do we reach you?"
It was the final confirmation, a last gamble on the unknown.
"No need." The Collector's reply was crisp, freighted with absolute certainty.
He rose, casually rolling his shoulders as if leaving a routine tea party.
"When the storm of war breaks, I'm not deaf; I'll appear on the battlefield at its first thunder and finish my task."
Before the words faded he gave a languid wave to the tent's occupants.
In the next instant his figure misted away, leaving only an empty chair to prove he had ever existed.
The stagnant air snapped; deeper silence followed.
Several Jonin exchanged uneasy glances, then looked toward the core of command. Nara Shikaku frowned, rubbing his chin, and turned to Jiraiya, voice low with worry.
"Lord Jiraiya… this Collector fellow... can we really trust him?"
Jiraiya hesitated, sweeping his gaze across every anxious face.
After a moment's balance he offered the best real-world answer: "Counting everything, perhaps sixty-forty."
He paused, tone hardening with resolve. "But we're out of choices. If he breaks his word and flees when the time comes—" Jiraiya's eyes regained their steel, "we fall back to the original plan!"
"Yes, sir!" The Ninja answered in unison, determination laced with dread.
Sixty percent; hardly comforting, yet the cliff-edge situation allowed no hesitation.
Everyone prayed the Collector's promise held; his power could tear through the gloom and
become the pivot that turns the tide!
Antiseptic chill filled the medical tent. Takuno leaned against the wall, brow furrowed as he sorted memories shared by his Wood Clone.
When the full picture pieced itself together, surprise flickered in his eyes.
"It actually worked..." he murmured inwardly, steady composure rippling.
By first estimates success had been doubtful; he'd even prepared to bargain it down.
Yet reality far exceeded expectations, confirming a suspicion.
Had Konoha not stood at the brink, such concessions to a complete unknown would never have been granted—
a choice that proved how dire the war had become.
Surprise ebbed; his gaze turned calm and deep.
The board, for him and for Konoha, was tilting toward advantage.
With Eight-Tails Jinchuriki Killer B neutralized, one of the enemy's heaviest hammers was gone.
Jiraiya could finally unveil his trump card: Sage Mode.
The next pivot hung on the fate of Fourth Raikage Ay.
If the "blue flash" of the Land of Lightning fell, whether killed or crippled, it could lever the entire war.
Pressure would slide from Konoha's shoulders; the scales would irreversibly tip.
And once the Village's slide was reversed, his own burden would lighten, freeing him for private goals.
"At last, I can spare a hand for what truly belongs to me."
The chaotic battlefield and his buried personal aim now traced converging lines.
Refocusing, Takuno looked past the tent at the smoke-shrouded land.
The clamor had momentarily stilled, yet the air remained wire-taut.
Now everything hinged on waiting for the next clash of horns.
That would be the moment the final plan moved onto its true course.
The war drums rolled again, ominous clouds hanging low and suffocating.
Before the familiar Konoha defense line, Kumogakure's steel tide surged, reeking of Tailed Beast Chakra.
Fourth Raikage Ay blazed with Lightning Release Chakra Mode, eyes crackling as he swept the field, eager to corner the famed Sannin Jiraiya once more.
Beside him, Eight-Tails Jinchuriki Killer B bobbed to an internal rap beat, brimming with confidence.
Behind them, Two-Tails Jinchuriki Yugito Nii's eyes glinted with cold fire, blue flames flickering as she thirsted for vengeance for fallen comrades.
Yet when figures emerged from Konoha's line, an indescribable shock froze the Cloud charge!
The expected intercept team had changed utterly!
Racing toward Yugito were not the familiar Sharingan-bearing Uchiha youths, but the scions of Konoha's ancient clans: Nara Shikaku, Inoichi Yamanaka, and Akimichi Choza!
Nara Shikaku's razor-sharp gaze locked onto the dim, sluggish Two-Tails Chakra swirling around Yugito; the Collector hadn't lied—she really had been weakened.
The Ino-Shika-Chō, Konoha's most seamless and balanced trio, could face a less-than-peak Two-Tails without the helplessness they'd felt against the Eight-Tails.
"Inoichi, ready a mental strike! Chōza, corral her movements!" Shikaku's calm order rang out, and an unseen shadow shot forward first, striking like a viper at the flame-wreathed ankle of Yugito.
Alarm bells screamed in Yugito's mind; the enemy's tactics were laser-focused. Against these three, her diminished Two-Tails Chakra left her teetering on the brink.
Fury tore a low growl from her throat; cobalt flames erupted as she tried to break free, yet the power that once incinerated all now felt painfully inadequate.
Fourth Raikage Ay's target should have been Jiraiya, yet the one who met his mountain-shattering fist was a green blur moving too fast for the eye.
Shisui, the prodigy who had dazzled in the last war, stood in a standard Konoha flak jacket, his short blade flashing free at his back.
His Body Flicker Technique pushed speed to the limit, planting him square between the Raikage and his intended path. In those Sharingan eyes the three tomoe spun wildly, calmly tracing every savage spark wreathing Ay.
"Fourth Raikage, your opponent is me." Shisui's calm words carried absolute resolve as he struck first, blade sweeping down.
"Brat, you dare!" Ay's shock flashed into rage; blue lightning erupted, his iron fist thundering toward Shisui.
He had never imagined Konoha would send a mere teenager to block him!
He admitted the boy's talent was sky-high, but an unfinished sapling could never match him!
Yet even as Ay hammered at Shisui, the Fourth Raikage's keen senses caught a crucial detail.
Konoha's top fighter, the Sannin called Jiraiya, was nowhere on the battlefield!
That shock of white hair, that boisterous figure, had vanished without trace.
"Where the hell is that old toad? What scheme is Konoha hatching now?!" Suspicion clouded Ay's mind, a dark premonition sprouting.
That old Toad Sage's bag of tricks was bottomless; his absence was more dangerous than his presence.
But Shisui's fierce blade and flawless Body Flicker kept cutting off his thoughts, forcing him to devote every ounce of focus to this sudden, ferocious duel.
Close by, Fugaku's face was grave as he swiftly directed elite Ninja to support.
Helplessness flickered across his features; their plan had been only to buy time while Jiraiya prepped Sage Mode.
Now Shisui's direct challenge had ignited full-blown war with the Fourth Raikage!
But he would never accept losing his clan's young genius; if battle was demanded, then battle it would be!
Within Fugaku's three-tomoe Sharingan, a deeper power seemed poised to awaken.
Should Shisui's life ever flicker, that force would erupt in an instant.
Killer Bee tilted his shades, about to spit a rhyming taunt at his foes.
But when the cloaked figure in an eerie fox mask materialized before him like a ghost, Bee's rap died mid-breath, his shades slipping.
Behind the mask, the Collector's gaze was mocking and cold.
"Yo—hah! It's you, that Collector!"
All playfulness vanished from Bee; for the first time his face turned deadly serious.
Yugito's fate made it clear—this man hunted Tailed Beast Chakra with lethal purpose.
As the Eight-Tails Jinchuriki, Bee was next on the list.
"Yo, masked punk! DJ Bee's beat~"
Though his mouth still fronted, Chakra inside Bee surged to full throttle.
"It's him, that devil!" Yugito caught sight of the Masked Man on the Eight-Tails field; her pupils shrank, icy killing intent and bone-deep hatred nearly snapping her reason.
That Masked Man had coldly slaughtered her comrades and ripped away her Two-Tails Chakra!
Had he wanted her dead instead of merely taking the Chakra, her end would have been far worse.
Now her enemy stood within reach; she burned to charge and avenge.
But reason and her present straits held her back. He was far beyond her strength alone.
Besides, Ino-Shika-Chō clung like leeches; she could spare no focus.
She funneled that hatred into wilder assaults, her cobalt flames blazing hotter.
The battlefield split cleanly apart.
No ordinary Ninja dared approach these apex clashes.
Ino-Shika-Chō kept the battered Yugito pinned; their flawless teamwork caged her firestorm within a tight perimeter.
Shisui and Fugaku faced the enraged Fourth Raikage. The prodigy's edge and the clan head's experience meshed, holding back the boundless might of the "A-B Combo's" core.
Lastly, the Collector fixed his chill gaze on Killer Bee, who still taunted him in rap.
Bee's trademark rhythmic freestyle had just begun—"Yo, sneak-in-shadows chump~ scared and pitiful~"
The cadenced rap still hung in the air when a low, urgent roar shattered his flow!
"Bee, watch out! Front!"
Eight-Tails Gyūki's voice cracked like thunder, jolting Bee out of his rhythm.
Almost the instant the warning sounded!
Bee's vision ripped apart; the Collector's figure tore through space like a ghost, snapping from phantom to solid within his pupils!
The distance had closed to a breath!
"What?! That speed—!" Bee's heart froze; a chill lanced from spine to skull.
Only one man had ever shown such blinding speed—his Fourth Raikage big bro in Lightning Release Chakra Mode! Beyond that stood Minato, but that wasn't raw speed—it was uncanny Space-Time Ninjutsu!
Shock detonated behind his eyes; his brain couldn't process it in time.
Too late! Caught completely off-guard!
Against the impossible blitz, Bee's only refuge was muscle memory forged in countless life-or-death fights; he barely crossed lightning-armored forearms in front of his chest.
It was the sole, vital guard he could throw up in that split second.
BOOM!!!
A heavy, violent impact slammed the air—not fist on flesh, but boulder on steel plate! Terrifying force poured through without pause!
"Guh!" A titanic, irresistible power slammed into Bee. The instant it connected, his strong frame lost all anchor; feet left the earth and he was cannon-fired backward, out of control!
The world spun wildly; wind shrieked past, ground and sky whirling in his eyes.