Smoke still lingered over the battlefield. Thick dust rolled and surged on the remaining gusts, obscuring half the sky.
The acrid smell of gunpowder mingled with the stench of blood, filling the air until it was suffocating.
Collapsed rocks and snapped branches littered the ground, as though a disaster had just swept through and left nothing but devastation.
Madara Uchiha's shattered body lay motionless on a heap of mottled rocks, like a toppled statue of a god.
Dust covered his once-terrifying majesty, stripping away his almost transcendent aura and leaving only an exhausted, broken shell.
Sunlight spilled through the fractured clouds and dappled his body, like the last glow of sunset caressing a fallen deity.
High overhead, Yemu hovered silently.
He wore silver-white armor whose metallic sheen gleamed against the gloomy sky, dazzling as daylight.
Intricate patterns covered its surface, like flowing silver threads winding around his body. Every inch radiated immense pressure.
The silver Dragon Tachi in his hand remained unsheathed, emanating a biting chill. Its edge reflected the faint light around him, as though it could freeze the very air.
His expression was serene, his gaze as cold as starlight. In silence, he exuded supreme majesty and an insurmountable presence.
For that instant, heaven and earth seemed to freeze. Even the raging wind slowed.
Below, the Fourth Raikage, Ōnoki, Mei Terumi, and the others stood atop a ruined cliff ravaged by the fighting.
The cliff was fractured and incomplete, like a beast torn apart. Broken rocks threatened to fall at any moment.
A few lingering strands of lightning release chakra flickered around the Raikage, like the last embers of life.
They wore battered battle robes, their faces streaked with sweat, dust, and blood.
Every wrinkle and every scar spoke of brutal fighting and utter exhaustion. Shock and bewilderment