The three escaping avatars maintained their maximum acceleration for a full ten minutes, exhausting every drop of their propellant. By the time they finished, they had reached a staggering velocity of forty-nine kilometers per second.
Back at the primary space station, Aburame Tetsumaru's main body received the intel via the spiritual feedback from the fallen shadow clones. He immediately began deploying deceleration rings, but at those speeds, no one was certain if the Bio-Armor units could be caught without disintegrating on impact.
Just then, two more surges of thought-impact slammed into Tetsumaru's consciousness along the mysterious link, hitting him like a tidal wave. This wasn't the usual feedback of experience and memory from a dispersing Shadow Clone; this was something entirely different—the final testament of a Will.
Tetsumaru was intimately familiar with the feedback of Shadow Clones, but this experience was transformative. Compared to the clones, this emotional surge was far more intense, carrying an indescribable weight that pressed heavily upon his heart.
He felt their regret, their helplessness, their defiance, and their primal fear of death. The feedback of their wills washed over him like a ripple in a pond, then followed the mysterious connection to resonate with the other avatars in the distance.
Soon, Tetsumaru felt a shimmering echo returning through the link, mingled with the sighs and reflections of his other selves. Like ripples in a well, the feedback intensified with every bounce, gradually aligning into a unified frequency before slowly settling into a profound silence.
Tetsumaru's very will underwent a change. A subtle, miraculous connection had formed between him and all his avatars. It was faint, yet unmistakable; it felt as though the world itself now looked different.
But he had no time to dwell on enlightenment. His first priority was saving the three avatars returning at terminal velocity. Tetsumaru had exactly thirty-one minutes. He had to construct as many deceleration rings as possible to prevent them from overshooting and slamming into the Shinobi World as three streaks of meteoric fire across the night sky.
While the main body threw himself back into work, the avatars in the Land of Tea moved into action. Their highest priority shifted to dealing with the newly appeared "Terror Unit." This enemy's mastery over the Tenseigan was leagues beyond the elder they had just killed.
However, such power surely came with greater restrictions or a heavier price. If it didn't, the previous Elder wouldn't have been left to fight alone for so long.
The Otsutsuki clan was likely at the end of their rope. If luck was on their side and the Tetsumarus could take this one down, they could finally transition to a full-scale planetary landing.
But right now, there was only one goal: kill him. Kill him at any cost.
"The enemy is too powerful. Two Bio-Armor units attempted a pincer in close quarters; they couldn't even touch his skin before being blown away by the repulsion."
"The enemy's speed is insane. It's so fast it creates the illusion of teleportation."
"What's the play?"
"I think it's simple. When faced with an insurmountable alien threat, what do we do?"
"The old-fashioned way... the Mushroom Bug?"
"What else?"
"Fine. Let's try it. Theoretically, it should get the job done."
"Right. At a hundred million degrees, there isn't a substance in a conventional physical environment that can resist it."
Early the next morning, the enemy dispatched a puppet legion to launch an attack. The assault was weak and disorganized, and the Sky Insects and Thunder Giant Insects tore them apart with ease.
Because the "Colossal Puppet" hadn't appeared, the seven Rocket Bugs hidden behind the Swarm—each carrying a Mushroom Bug—did not reveal themselves.
Perhaps dissatisfied with the results of the skirmish, the target finally appeared that afternoon. Tetsumaru didn't hesitate for a second. He ordered the Rocket Bugs to ignite.
At 3:00 PM, the sunlight over the Hidden Leaf Village was still brilliant. No one cared to look up into the glare of the sun, so no one noticed the blinding flash that momentarily outshone the day.
The seven Rocket Bugs flew toward the battlefield in a plum-blossom formation, spaced four kilometers apart to maximize the chance of a catch. In theory, at least three bugs should have closed to within three kilometers of the enemy—the trigger distance for a nuclear detonation.
In reality, only the first Mushroom Bug successfully triggered.
A "mushroom" in space has no cloud. There wasn't even a plasma fireball. Instead, there was an indescribable burst of intense light—a flash so powerful that Sky Insects dozens of kilometers away suffered severe thermal radiation burns.
Following the light, a spherical, reddish-orange bubble of radiation expanded from the detonation point. It grew into a perfect sphere with a five-kilometer radius before transitioning into a dense burst of high-energy gamma rays that continued to ripple outward.
Unfortunately, due to their lack of experience with exo-atmospheric nuclear detonations, the other six Rocket Bugs were positioned too close. They were vaporized instantly by the initial thermal pulse of their brother's blast, reduced to space dust before they could detonate.
The results were a mixed bag. The bad news: the enemy wasn't destroyed by the nuke. The good news: the enemy beat a hasty retreat. He was either blinded by the flash or his internal organs had been shredded by the radiation.
Fifteen hours later, however, the enemy reappeared, proving to the Tetsumarus that he was still very much alive.
Despite the "Special Anti-Alien Weapon" failing to secure a kill, Tetsumaru hadn't come away empty-handed. They had wiped out over twenty thousand puppets and gathered terminal data on the Colossal Puppet's limits.
"The data forced out by the 'Mushroom' proves that all our fancy tactics are meaningless. The Tactical Group suggests focusing entirely on two dimensions: velocity and raw power. We find the absolute peak of those two variables required to kill him, and then we design the strategy around that."
The avatar from the Tactical Group continued: "After deliberation, we believe that for a high-risk mission of this nature, we should follow the principle of 'He who proposes, executes.'"
"Therefore, I will be the one responsible for carrying out this battle plan."
He spoke calmly. No one replied, and no one clapped or shouted slogans. This was a gamble with death, and since they were all "himself," such displays felt shallow.
The Tactical avatar boarded a specialized craft at the space station. Powered by three Rocket Bugs in a serial stage, he launched his attack after eighty thousand kilometers of sustained acceleration. At a distance of a hundred meters, the enemy used repulsion to deflect his flight path. The attack failed, and the terrifying G-force of the sudden course correction killed the avatar instantly.
His sacrifice allowed the Tetsumarus to pin down two critical data points for the enemy's repulsion: the power-half-life distance was three hundred meters, and the maximum effective range was thirteen kilometers.
The numbers seemed staggering, but if this were on the surface with gravity and air resistance, the repulsion shockwave wouldn't have reached past a hundred and seventy meters. It couldn't compare to the likes of Toneri Otsutsuki or Nagato Uzumaki.
This gave Tetsumaru confidence—confidence that he could defeat the enemy directly rather than just grinding him down through attrition.
In the second wave of testing, the Tetsumarus used Rocket Bugs to launch specially cast steel ingots at the enemy. By measuring the deflection distance of ingots with different masses, they mapped the enemy's repulsion strength at intervals between four and one hundred meters.
This time, no one died. But the enemy's rate of advancement accelerated. The puppet army was now only forty thousand kilometers from the space station where the main body resided.
On the Moon, the Great Elder had just returned. He could barely stand after exiting the puppet. His sudden, violent coughing of blood terrified his clansmen.
"Great Elder, please rest. Let me go in your stead."
"Great Elder, you cannot go back out there!"
The Elder closed his eyes, resting until he regained a modicum of strength. He took the medicine a brother offered; under the sting of the stimulants, he finally stood. He retorted sharply, "If I don't go, none of you can. Our seventh brother is already dead—is any among you stronger than he was?"
"We will go together! There is strength in numbers!"
"Nonsense! If you all go, who will remain to manipulate the Tenseigan and provide support?"
"Perhaps we should wake the Clan Head... he can surely do it. After all—"
"Silence! Shamon and the others are the last and greatest hope of the Otsutsuki. If we wake them prematurely, our lineage ends with us. What is the point of winning a war if we have no future?"
The Elder didn't want to waste any more breath. He raised a hand to silence them, his voice half-pleading and half-commanding. "We are so close. I can already see that iron structure where the enemy gathers. Destroy it, kill the monsters living inside, and we win."
"The enemy's terrifying weapon was too insidious. Even though I dodged the blast, my internal organs are rotting." The Elder pulled up his sleeve, revealing skin that had begun to ulcerate and decay. He let out a grim, tragic laugh. "So, even the skin rots. It seems my time is short."
"After we win this battle, you must focus entirely on waiting for the youth to recover and bear children. The Otsutsuki clan must endure. We must continue to follow the will of our ancestors."
"You must support me. Command the puppet army well, and do not be reckless."
"Trust me. We will win."
On Tetsumaru's side, time was of the essence. The final battle plan was drafted with surgical speed. The executor was once again an avatar from the Tactical Group. Regardless of success or failure, the odds of him returning were near zero.
"If we weren't so pressed for time, we really should have refined this more. This plan is incredibly risky."
"There's no choice. The approach speed is too high. We have to take the gamble."
"Could we win without the risk? The enemy is clearly dying."
"Have you forgotten our consensus? If we want to swallow this shinobi clan whole and intact, we have to defeat them head-on. Given the nature of this world, that's the only way to earn a chance for Talk-no-jutsu."
Originally, the plan contained no such mercy. However, unlike the "Sky Ninjas" who could only follow scripts and perform sloppy experiments, the Otsutsuki had demonstrated remarkable technology, resolve, and adaptability during the war.
In every aspect, they were elite. They were a high-value, high-potential intellectual resource that shouldn't be purged. It would be a waste.
No one knew which avatar had first proposed the idea, but soon, every Tetsumaru agreed. The logic of long-term gain overrode the grudge of losing three avatars.
The avatars are me, after all. I may not have the right to forgive an enemy on behalf of others, but I certainly have the right to forgive them on behalf of myself.
The avatar executing the plan launched aboard a Rocket Bug. He didn't head toward the battlefield; instead, he entered a wide orbit around the Shinobi World, slowly building speed.
When the rocket reached escape velocity, the Rocket Bug used lateral thrusters to counteract the centrifugal force, allowing it to climb even higher in speed. Finally, after using the Summoning Jutsu to replenish the fuel tanks, the avatar left orbit and flew in the opposite direction of the Moon.
He would spend the next two days under continuous acceleration, then take four days to pull a 343-degree turn to face the Shinobi World again, accelerating all the way back.
By the time he returned to the battlefield, the craft would be nothing but a cockpit with exhausted fuel tanks—but it would be moving at a velocity of 1,400 kilometers per second.
Because of the Shinobi World's curvature, the enemy wouldn't see him until he cleared the planet's horizon. From that point, it would take only twenty-eight seconds to cross the forty-thousand-kilometer gap to the front line. If the enemy advanced further, that window would be even smaller.
The attack would be launched at a distance of one hundred kilometers. The avatar wouldn't attempt a direct collision—the cockpit was too heavy to adjust its trajectory at those speeds. Instead, he would release a single tungsten rod weighing just under ninety kilograms.
At 1,400 kilometers per second, the mass of the projectile was more than enough. In fact, it was likely extreme overkill.
The Tetsumarus believed the enemy would find it nearly impossible to detect such an attack, and even if he did, there was no way he could react to that speed. The only difficulty lay in whether the avatar could actually land the hit.
"What if he misses?"
"Then the main body runs. Do you think he's stupid enough to sit in the space station and wait for death? The enemy is a dying man; we have a bright future. Only a ghost would stay and die with him."
Tetsumaru: "..." You guys have my whole life planned out, don't you? Go to hell.
In fact, at the Tactical Group's insistence, Tetsumaru's main body was scheduled to return to the Land of Tea the following day. The avatars wouldn't allow him to take unnecessary risks. In a situation where an accident meant instant death, it was better for the "Prime" to stay far away.
"It's better for everyone. We can only focus if we know you're safe. You don't want us going into the mission anxious and increasing the risk of failure, do you?"
The avatar's logic left Tetsumaru speechless. He could only play the part of the "coward" and retreat.
The Otsutsuki Great Elder pushed his aging body to the limit. Over seven days, he launched six consecutive sorties, pushing the front line forward twenty thousand kilometers. The enemy's base was finally visible to his Byakugan—or at least, the glint of sunlight off its hull was.
At the brink of victory, however, the Elder reached his breaking point. To prevent a sudden death on the front lines, he was forced to grit his teeth and rest for a single day.
The Elder's absence on that seventh day terrified the Tetsumarus. Their plan was extreme; by the seventh day, there was no room left for adjustments. If the enemy didn't show up on the eighth day, the mission was a total failure with no second chance.
Fortunately, the Otsutsuki were even more anxious. On the eighth day, the Great Elder appeared at the very front of the puppet army, his colossal puppet radiating Tenseigan energy with unprecedented brilliance.
The glow was so intense that even the avatars hidden in the Swarm noticed the shift.
"I have a bad feeling. It looks like he's about to 'explode' his potential."
"I feel it too. Is he planning to settle this in a final showdown today, too?"
"Talk about a coincidence."
"Forget it. The timing is almost up. We wait for the result. If it works, we hunt the rest down. If it doesn't, we pack up and run."
"Here it comes. Eight seconds."
"Crap, I'm actually nervous."
"Quiet. We're all nervous."
"Shut up!"
The colossal puppet took a step forward. The Great Elder turned his gaze once more toward the space station behind the Swarm. Even with the Byakugan, he couldn't truly see it; he only saw the reflected glint of the sun.
"Hmph. Let's end this today," the Elder whispered to himself. The blue radiance on the puppet's surface flared to blinding levels as he began to gather a massive repelling force.
And then, without warning, the puppet simply shattered.
Centering on a point just below and to the left of the head, the machine disintegrated. The fragments were so small that not a single piece was larger than a fingernail.
The Otsutsuki Great Elder died without feeling a single spark of pain.
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