The smoke had yet to clear, and waves of heat rolled through the air.
The roar of the steel behemoths gradually died down, but the rows of dark cannon muzzles still radiated enough heat to distort the air.
Jiraiya leaped down from the command vehicle. His wooden sandals hissed against the scorching gravel. He casually stuffed the unlit cigarette back into his pocket, scratched his iconic white hair, and looked at Gaara, whose face was smeared with blood and whose body was swaying precariously. A trace of apology appeared on his face.
"Sorry about this, Kazekage brat."
Jiraiya sighed and swept his gaze over the Sand ninja around them, who were still shaken. "The front line was stretched too thin. There's fighting everywhere, and even Konoha can't be in two places at once. Those logistics guys nearly tore Naruto's office apart just to transport these hundred-ton iron monsters across the desert. You have to understand, modern warfare isn't about chakra anymore. It's about fuel and steel."
Gaara said nothing. He merely dispelled Sand Shield in silence.
In that instant, his legs felt as heavy as if they had been filled with lead, but he forced himself to stay upright. Temari and Kankuro rushed over from behind to support him, but he gently waved them off.
"It's good that you came." Gaara's voice was hoarse yet unusually calm. "If you'd arrived half a minute later, the history of Sunagakure might have ended right there."
"Don't worry. As long as that brat Naruto is still around, the sky of the Shinobi World won't come crashing down." Jiraiya grinned, then his expression turned serious as he looked toward the strangely writhing cloud of dust ahead. "But it seems your family business isn't finished yet."
Not far away, the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, who had