Shaye's Conviction

The blazing sun hung high overhead, baking the ravaged desert below until the air warped with heat. Massive craters, crisscrossing ravines, scattered metal grit, and vitrified crystal ground all spoke of the ferocity and terror of the battle that had just taken place.

Shaye knelt on one knee atop the slightly damaged shoulder armor of "Mirage," gasping violently. Sweat mixed with blood from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the cold metal surface. The Pseudo-Sage Body's powerful regenerative ability was working to mend his internal injuries, but the shock and exhaustion brought by Rasa's overwhelming Gold Dust attacks were all too real. The Pocket Body Refining Furnace grew faintly hot as it accelerated its extraction of natural energy and converted it into chakra, replenishing his nearly depleted chakra pathways.

Not far away, the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, floated atop slowly swirling Gold Dust. His expression was equally grave, and his breathing was no longer as steady as before. The glow of the Gold Dust around him seemed to have dimmed somewhat. He looked down at Shaye, his gaze incomparably complicated.

This fierce battle, which had lasted half a day, had far exceeded his expectations.

He had indeed held the upper hand, controlling the rhythm of the fight from beginning to end. The absolute power and mass of Gold Dust suppressed Shaye's Iron Sand and ninjutsu. Yet the giant puppet named "Mirage," with its agility, defensive strength, and endless attack methods—physical slashes, senbon, Explosive Tags, and even the occasional combined Wind- and Fire-Style ninjutsu it spat out—had been extremely troublesome. Whenever he was about to secure victory, it always found an unexpected way to dissolve or disrupt his advantage.

What alarmed him even more was Shaye himself. That seemingly inexhaustible stamina, that machine-like precision in chakra control, those effortlessly deployed