Outside the battleship hatch, the surface of Green Star, plowed over by missiles, reeked of something burned—a smell like old rotten leather shoes roasting over a fire. The Ōtsutsuki Vanguard battleships that had once flaunted their might were now nothing but scrap metal scattered across the plains, occasionally spitting out eerie blue sparks. Yoru carried the alloy steel pipe he had used as a crowbar, stepping over an Ōtsutsuki officer's corpse. The officer's ornate white robe was smeared with blood, stiff as dried cardboard and prickly to the touch.
"I'm saying, Orochimaru, why are these so-called 'gods' so damn fragile?"
Yoru casually tossed the oil- and blood-smeared crowbar aside. It struck the ground with a sharp clang, shaking dust loose from the nearby rocks.
He looked at the shattered shield fragments ahead, where some strange blue glow still flickered amid the pungent smell of ozone.
Orochimaru was crouched beside an Ōtsutsuki officer's chest, his golden snake eyes glowing an oily green. His scalpel was coated in viscous tissue fluid, enough to make anyone sick.
He casually stuffed a stripped Chakra energy core into a metal canister, as deftly as a fishmonger gutting fish at the market.
"Their bodies were forcefully built up with God Tree Fruit. At their core, they're just parasites."
Orochimaru tossed his gloves onto the ground. They bore black stains, and their sour sweat stench rushed into Yoru's nostrils, making him frown.
"Lord Yoru, these guys only have a few ancestral pieces of black technology to rely on. In a real brawl, any Genin from our village who's taken enhancement drugs could pin them to the ground and beat them senseless."
Yoru said nothing, merely pulling out a piece of chewing gum and chewing it.
The flavor was as bland as gnawing wood chips. It was junk