Before the cave, a gigantic white bird dove down from the sky.
It was not a bird, but clay. In Deidara's hands, clay was not a weapon, but art. Art was not hung on walls; it exploded in the sky. The instant it exploded, it bloomed, then vanished. Vanishing was not regret, but meaning. The meaning of an instant was purer than eternity.
"Konoha came to save the Kazekage? Too late. My art doesn't need to wait for anyone, yeah!"
Deidara rode on the bird's back, his tongue stirring inside his mouth. He was not speaking, but kneading clay. The clay was rolled into balls on his tongue, and the balls fell from the bird's back—not one, but dozens. Dozens of white pellets scattered through the air. They did not merely scatter; they came alive. Once alive, they became spiders. C1 Clay Spiders—miniature bombs, each with its own path of movement. They were not tracking targets, but infiltrating. Infiltrating every corner, infiltrating beneath everyone's feet, and then—detonating at once.
Ringo's steam wall unfurled. It was not defense, but scanning. Pale green steam formed a barrier around his body. It did not block; it sensed. It sensed the location of every spider, the detonation time of every bomb. But sensing them did not mean he could stop them. The spiders crawled across the steam wall—not crawling, but burrowing. They bored through to the inner side of the wall. They were not burned to death by the steam, but activated by it. Clay detonated faster under high heat.
The first bomb exploded outside Ringo's left shoulder. It was not flesh and blood, but steam. A gap was blasted into the steam wall. The gap was not merely blown open, but torn apart. After it tore open, clay fragments embedded themselves within it.