reincarnated in the world of naruto

As Arata was recovering, an Iwa Jonin appeared before him, standing motionless, his imposing musculature tensing like a predator ready to kill. His knuckles cracked as he clenched his massive fists, his stance low and firm, the essence of pure karate.

"You're strong, kid," growled the Jonin, his voice like distant thunder. "But this is where you die."

Arata didn't respond. His Sharingan spun in its socket, analyzing every tiny movement, every breath of the enemy. Both knew the first attack would set the pace of the fight.

The Jonin vanished in a flash of brutal speed. BOOM! The ground shattered beneath his feet as he lunged toward Arata, his fist charged with monstrous force.

SHAS!

Arata barely dodged the blow by leaning his body back. The Jonin's fist passed inches from his face, generating a shockwave that tore apart the ground around them. But before he could react, the enemy pivoted, his leg rising in a lethal arc.

"Take this!"

CRACK!

The impact exploded against Arata's guard, who barely managed to cross his arms to block it. Still, the overwhelming force sent him flying backward, sliding across the shattered ground. His blood boiled, not just from the pain, but from the adrenaline of the fight.

"You'll have to do better than that."

The Jonin smiled.

"That's what I was going to tell you."

He disappeared again. BAAM! His fist slammed into empty air. Arata was no longer there.

His Sharingan had seen through the feint.

The Iwa ninja felt a chill. Before he could react, Arata appeared at his side, his leg spinning with lethal precision.

BAM!

The kick struck his side, cracking his ribs. The Jonin grunted in pain but forced himself to spin with the blow, absorbing some of the impact to counterattack. His elbow descended like a hammer.

TRAK!

Arata blocked with his forearm, but the strike pushed him back. The man's strength was monstrous.

"Let's see how you handle this!"

The Jonin slammed his hands into the ground.

"Doton: Kajūgan no Jutsu!"

Arata's weight doubled instantly. His muscles felt the pressure as if a mountain had fallen on him.

SHAS!

The Jonin appeared in front of him, his knee rising with brutal force, straight into Arata's stomach. CRACK! The impact made blood gush from his mouth.

"You're history!"

The Jonin twisted his body, unleashing a spinning kick that struck Arata's temple. His vision blurred for a moment, his body flying like a ragdoll until it crashed into a rock, shattering it to pieces.

For a moment, the Iwa Jonin smiled with satisfaction.

But then, he felt it.

The air changed.

Arata slowly stood up, wiping the blood from his lip. His Sharingan spun wildly, and something burned between his hands.

"Your strength is impressive," he whispered. "But I've seen enough."

The temperature rose as Arata formed his Kamino Fuga. A fiery arrow emerged between his fingers, its heat distorting the air.

The Jonin narrowed his eyes.

"Tch..."

He lunged forward, his fist charged with the power of a missile.

But Arata didn't let him get close.

WOOOSH!

The blazing arrow shot forward.

The Jonin tried to dodge, but the explosion engulfed him. BOOM! The fire rose in a devastating column, incinerating everything within several meters. The Iwa ninja screamed as the flames devoured his skin, his flesh melting, his bones charring in seconds.

When the fire dissipated, only ashes and an unbearable stench of burnt flesh remained.

Arata exhaled, his body covered in sweat and blood.

But the battle, fierce and merciless, wasn't over; it was reaching its climax. The shattered bodies of Iwa ninjas lay among rubble and cracks in the earth, but victory wasn't yet secured. The brutality of the combat spared no one, and the Root members, as skilled and lethal as they were, were also beginning to fall.

One of the Root shinobi, an expert in Fūton: Shinkūjin, danced among his enemies, his wind-imbued sword cutting through flesh like paper. Every slash was precise, every strike a death sentence. But in his frenzy, he didn't see the shadow moving beneath him.

"Die in the land you seek to conquer!"

The ground erupted as an Iwa ninja, hidden with Doton: Moguragakure no Jutsu, emerged with a gleaming poisoned kunai. The blade sank into the Root shinobi's side, right between his ribs. A gasp escaped his lips, blood gushing in a thick cascade. He tried to swing his sword to counterattack, but another kunai pierced his throat, tearing through his windpipe.

"Kh... ghh..."

He staggered, his vision darkening as he fell to his knees. His hands trembled before losing strength, blood soaking his face. His body went limp, his sword stuck in the ground, as if even in his last moments he had wanted to keep fighting.

Another Root member, a master of Genjutsu: Kokuangyo no Jutsu, had plunged several enemies into absolute darkness. He moved among them stealthily, slitting throats and piercing hearts. But the Iwa Jonin, a veteran hardened by war, didn't fall for the trick.

"Enough of your tricks!"

The rocks around him rose and fell with brutal force using Doton: Iwayado Kuzushi, burying the genjutsu user under tons of stone. A muffled scream was heard before blood seeped through the cracks in the rock.

The Root members continued to fight, but each loss weighed heavily. However, the massacre of Iwa ninjas wasn't over yet.

Arata, his eyes burning crimson, pivoted, dodging a strike from an enemy using Doton: Chōkeijūgan no Jutsu to move with unnatural agility. But the Iwa ninja didn't expect what came next.

"Too slow."

A vortex of wind erupted from Arata's hands, enveloping the enemy shinobi in a storm of invisible blades. The wind pressure pulled him in and tore his flesh apart in seconds, fragments of bone and muscle scattering in all directions before his body was pulverized.

Root, despite their losses, didn't falter. One of their last remaining fighters, with a kunai in each hand, lunged at the enemy Jonin who had buried his comrade. His movements were a storm of steel and blood.

"This is for my comrades!"

The kunai sank into the Jonin's abdomen, twisting at a brutal angle to shred his internal organs. The Iwa shinobi spat blood, trying to form words, but his throat only let out a desperate gurgle before his attacker crushed his skull with a final, precise blow.

Finally, the battlefield fell silent. The Iwa forces were annihilated. Blood, torn flesh, and dust floated in the air as witnesses to the brutality of the fight.

But victory came at a cost. Among the fallen were the motionless bodies of Konoha shinobi, necessary sacrifices in the relentless dance of war.

Arata took a deep breath, his Sharingan still glowing. He looked around, feeling the weight of the battle in every fiber of his being.

The Sharingan faded from his eyes as his tense muscles finally gave way. Blood dripped from his wounds, and his ragged breathing was the only thing breaking the momentary silence. It was over.

But then, he looked up. Orochimaru was still fighting the Iwagakure Jonin. The deadly dance between them hadn't yet reached its climax, but the outcome was inevitable.

"This is pointless..." he murmured, watching the scene with a somber expression.

The Jonin panted, his movements clumsier, more desperate. Orochimaru, on the other hand, still smiled with that unsettling expression, toying with his prey.

"He's dragging this out on purpose," Arata muttered through gritted teeth.

There was no honor in this. It wasn't a fight; it was a game disguised as combat.

The Iwa Jonin stood firm on the battlefield, his gaze burning with contained fury. The earth trembled beneath his feet, cracking with each heavy exhale. His rage was palpable, a torrent of chakra that made the ground creak with promises of destruction.

Orochimaru, however, remained relaxed, his smile barely visible in the dim light.

"Oh… what a fierce spirit," he whispered, tilting his head with curiosity, as if evaluating the resilience of a specimen before dissecting it. "Let's see how long you last."

Without warning, the Jonin lunged forward with brutal speed. His muscles, reinforced by his Earth chakra, made him an unstoppable force. His fist closed in a downward strike that made the ground explode as if a meteor had hit.

But Orochimaru was no longer there.

A serpentine shadow slid behind the Jonin, his silhouette warping as if his body were liquid. His fingers elongated, turning into sharp claws that sought the jugular of his prey.

"Too predictable."

The Jonin turned with a roar, his sword flashing in an upward slash. The blade cut through the air, but only grazed Orochimaru's robe, who contorted with inhuman flexibility to avoid the strike.

"You have decent reflexes," the Sannin admitted, licking his lips, "but you're still… boring."

The earth exploded as the Jonin struck again, this time reinforcing his fist with Doton: Keijūgan no Jutsu. His speed tripled in an instant, and this time, his attack connected.

The impact sent Orochimaru flying through several trees, their wooden bodies shattering into splinters and dust.

But there was no scream. No broken bones.

Instead, a sibilant laugh echoed through the remains of the forest.

"Ah…" Orochimaru's voice slithered through the dust cloud. "That was… enjoyable."

From the shadows emerged a staggering figure. Orochimaru stood up, his body dislocated, his neck bent at an impossible angle. And then, grotesquely, he realigned himself as if nothing had happened.

The Iwa Jonin frowned.

"What the hell are you…?"

Orochimaru simply tilted his head, his smile widening.

"The one who's going to bury you."

With a swift motion, he brought his hands to his mouth and spat out a dense cloud of burning ash.

"Katon: Haisekishō!"

The Jonin instinctively stepped back, but the moment the ash surrounded him, Orochimaru clicked his tongue.

The explosion was instantaneous.

The ground shook with the detonation, furious flames consuming the area in a sea of fire. The Jonin emerged from the flames, shielded by his Doton: Iwa Hinansho, his skin hardened like stone armor.

But Orochimaru was already upon him.

"You can't hide behind a shell forever."

His arm grotesquely elongated, like a serpent lunging to strike. His fingers curved into claws and sank into the Jonin's shoulder, piercing the hardened rock.

The Iwa shinobi growled, twisting to break free, but Orochimaru pulled him closer, his face inches from his opponent's.

"Come on… scream a little."

Before the Jonin could respond, a thousand snakes emerged from Orochimaru's sleeve, coiling around his body. Sharp fangs sank into his flesh, injecting venom directly into his bloodstream.

The Jonin roared in rage and pain, his chakra spiraling out of control.

"Doton: Gōremu no Jutsu!"

From the earth, a colossal form emerged: a rock golem that rose with a guttural roar. Its fist descended like a mountain falling from the sky, straight toward Orochimaru.

The impact was devastating.

But when the dust settled, Orochimaru was no longer there.

From a nearby branch, his laughter filled the air again.

"You still don't understand, do you?"

The Iwa Jonin breathed heavily. His skin darkened from the poison, his movements becoming erratic.

"No matter how much you resist…" Orochimaru descended slowly, his silhouette warping as his body regenerated any damage received. "No matter how much strength you have…"

His voice became a venomous whisper.

"Experiments always end with the same conclusion."

In a blink, his dagger gleamed under the moon.

And blood covered the earth.