"Iron Body."
Facing the blinding streak of the Hell Thrust—now concentrated into a singular, lethal point—Ikki simply let out a listless yawn. The Raikage's finger, wreathed in violent, spiraling lightning, slammed directly into the center of Ikki's forehead.
CLANG!
The screech of grinding metal echoed across the plains. Ikki stood rooted like an ancient monolith, his expression bored. It was the Third Raikage whose feet left the earth; he was sent hurtling backward like a fired shell, skipping across the terrain for nearly a hundred meters before slamming into the bedrock. A massive crater, ten meters wide, erupted where he finally managed to brace himself.
"It... it appeared!"
"The legendary techniques!"
"The superhuman arts of the Sengoku's greatest titan!"
In the past, the records of the Five Great Nations only spoke in broad strokes of Ikki's Iron Fist, Hashirama's Wood Style, and Madara's Sharingan. The specific mechanics of Ikki's combat style had been buried by time, known only to a handful of high-ranking elders.
But with the Iron Fist's return, the Great Villages had scoured their archives. The secret was out: Ikki possessed a combat system that defied the laws of chakra—the Rokushiki, the "Six Styles" that had broken the heroes of the Warring States.
"So this is the Iron Body..."
The Third Raikage looked down at his right hand. It was trembling. His face was a mask of dark, swirling emotions. Pure physical defense—no chakra, no seals—had not only stopped his 'Strongest Spear' but had also delivered a recoil that made him feel as though he'd punched the core of a planet.
"He's a monster!"
"Get in there! Support the Raikage!"
"No man can take down a legend alone!"
Tutai and the Cloud commanders could no longer stand by. They saw the writing on the wall. If the Raikage couldn't even draw blood from a napping Ikki, what would happen now that the giant was awake?
"Stay back!" the Raikage roared, but his warning came too late.
Ikki's brow furrowed slightly as he watched the swarm of Cloud ninja approach. He didn't move his hands. Instead, he simply whipped his right leg through the air in a sudden, violent arc.
"Tempest Kick."
WHOOSH—!
A razor-sharp, crescent-shaped blade of blue energy, hundreds of meters long, erupted from the motion. It tore across the battlefield with the predatory grace of a harvesting scythe.
"What—?!"
The frontline of the Cloud army didn't even have time to scream. They were like stalks of wheat before a blade. In a single, fluid heartbeat, over a hundred shinobi were sliced clean in half, their upper bodies sliding off their waists as they collapsed into the blood-soaked dirt.
"You bastard!" the Raikage bellowed, charging back into the fray.
He reached the air-blade just as it was about to claim another hundred lives. He thrust his hands forward, intending to catch the vacuum wave with his bare palms. But the moment he made contact, his expression shifted to one of pure horror.
His Lightning Style Armor—the "Strongest Shield"—cracked like parchment. A searing, white-hot pain tore through his hands and arms.
"Lightning Style: Ultimate Armor!"
Ai pushed his chakra to its absolute limit. A pillar of lightning erupted from his body like a jet of blue flame, and his tawny hair stood on end, sparking with incandescent power. Even then, he was forced backward, his feet carving deep furrows into the earth as he struggled to arrest the momentum of Ikki's "kick."
The wave eventually dissipated, but the Raikage didn't look triumphant. He stood panting, looking at the gully Ikki had carved into the earth—a five-hundred-meter-long scar littered with the remains of two hundred Cloud ninja.
Superman... Ai thought, staring at the destruction. They call these the 'Six Styles of Superman' because they are beyond the realm of human capability. His effort had saved some, but the cost was staggering. If he hadn't intercepted it, the casualty count would have rivaled the Rock Shinobi massacre.
"Is this really the time to be daydreaming?"
The voice was right there. Ikki had already reached down, his hand brushing the soil.
"Run!" the Raikage screamed, his heart seizing. The image of the falling mountain—the Manual Tengai Shinsei—flashed through the minds of every Cloud ninja present. They scrambled backward in a blind, primal panic.
"Don't be so jumpy," Ikki said, retracting his hand. "I'm only using one stone this time. It's plenty for you."
Instead of the mountain everyone expected, Ikki held a single, palm-sized rock between his thumb and forefinger.
"Iron Fist..." the Raikage growled, his face turning a bruised shade of purple as his rage bubbled over. "You think you can mock me with a pebble?"