"My blade happens to be a picky eater."
The moment Chiya spoke, the already tense atmosphere on the battlefield was stretched to the breaking point.
His tone was arrogant beyond belief.
His opponent was Madara Uchiha, the Asura of the Ninja World whose name alone could silence a crying child.
Yet Chiya held his Black Blade, which had yet to unleash its full heat, and looked at Madara as though appraising a rather high-quality... battery.
"Ha..."
Seated within the blue ribs of his Susanoo, Madara froze briefly. Then a grin spread rapidly across his face-the wild delight of finding the perfect prey.
"A picky eater? Excellent!"
Madara abruptly stood, shattering the coffin lid beneath his feet.
"Then let me see whether your teeth are strong enough to gnaw through this old bone!"
The air between them began to distort. The mere clash of their auras whipped up a visible hurricane across the wasteland, making the distant flags of the Five Great Nations' allied forces snap so violently they nearly broke.
The Raikage clutched his severed arm, veins bulging at his temples. "Those two bastards... they're completely ignoring us!"
Yet just as the tension peaked and battle was about to erupt...
A sinister voice abruptly cut in, carrying a deliberate note of flattery and boastfulness.
"Lord Madara, please be patient."
Every gaze shifted at once.
Behind Madara, the hooded man who had barely drawn any attention slowly adjusted his round glasses and stepped forward, his trademark false smile curling his lips.
Kabuto Yakushi.
He glanced at Chiya in midair, then at the Allied Shinobi Forces bracing themselves across the field. A light called ambition flickered in his eyes.
"Much as I would love to watch the two of you dance, as one of this war's planners, I would also like to