The main world.
Spring, year thirty of Konoha.
The Golden Forest was no longer a forest. Ancient trees had snapped, their branches and leaves charred black. Water blades had sliced open the ground, gold dust had torn through it, and vines had overturned it. Golden fallen leaves mingled with dirt and blood, covering the entire clearing. Hanzō stood at the center of the ruins, his breathing still steady beneath his respirator. Three thousand Amegakure elites had pulled back to the forest's edge. They were not retreating; they simply could not intervene. In a battle at this level, numbers were useless.
Four children stood opposite Hanzō, all wounded. A water blade had cut open Ryukōshi's left arm, and blood had soaked his golden clan clothing. Water pressure had struck Jin Zhiyin's right leg, leaving him with a slight limp. Yōsa was bleeding at the temple, and most of his Gold Dust Armor had shattered. Blood stained the corner of Chengkong's mouth, and his right hand had swollen like a steamed bun.
But they were still standing.
Hanzō watched them in silence for a moment. "Still want to fight?" Ryukōshi wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Yes."
Hanzō sighed. "Then let me show you what a 'Demigod' is."
His chakra changed. It did not grow greater; it grew "heavier." It pressed down like a mountain. All four children's bodies sank at once, and breathing became difficult. It was not gravity, but "presence"-Hanzō's aura. The aura of a Demigod.
Ryukōshi gritted his teeth, golden chakra surging inside him to resist the pressure. Jin Zhiyin's emerald green chakra seeped underground, drawing strength from the roots. Yōsa's gold dust condensed into thicker armor over his body. Chengkong clenched his swollen fist, his silver-white Sharingan fixed on Hanzō.
Hanzō raised his right hand.