The air raid sirens in Konoha never stopped wailing, sounding like a mournful old woman, sending chills down one's spine.
The streets, once filled with the aroma of barbecue, are now teeming with ninjas in armor, running frantically. The patrols' footsteps pound the ground, and their megaphones repeatedly shout, "All Chunin and Jonin, assemble at the central plaza immediately! Repeat, assemble at the central plaza immediately!"
The Hokage's office was filled with smoke, resembling a bathhouse. Mitokado Homura slammed his pipe on the table, Utatane Koharu's brows furrowed in worry. Hiruzen Sarutobi stood by the window, looking down at the chaotic village below, oblivious to the fact that his pipe had gone out.
"We can't wait any longer." Mitokado Homura broke the silence, his voice hoarse. "Kagami's gone, Tomioki's gone, and now only a few of us can make decisions. If we drag this out any longer, the demon tide will be at the village entrance!"
Utatane Koharu wiped her face. "But... the Azure Dragon Corps is facing off against the Blood Immortal Clan of the Land of Hot Water, the Vermilion Bird Corps just finished its skirmish with Kusagakure, the Black Tortoise Corps is still facing off against a monster in the north, and only the White Tiger Corps is on its way back... the others can't be recalled in time, what about the border?"
"Let's just leave it at Land of Hot Water!" Mitokado Homura slammed his fist on the table. "What other threats? No matter how tough those guys are, can they be more deadly than the Oni Clan? This is a matter of life and death, we can't worry about anything else! Issue the order: except for the Azure Dragon Corps, which is still keeping an eye on those vampires in the Land of Hot Springs, the remaining three legions, no matter what they're doing, get to the second line of defense at the Tekka Border immediately! They must be there within a day!"
Hiruzen Sarutobi slowly turned around, the bloodshot veins in his eyes even more frightening than his Sharingan: "How many people are left in the Kirin Corps?"
" Tensei, less than three thousand." Utatane Koharu, took out the roster, her voice trembling. "Most of them are injured, less than a thousand are capable of fighting."
"Have them retreat to the second line of defense to rest and regroup, under the command of the White Tiger Corps." Hiruzen Sarutobi's voice was steady, so steady it sent a chill down one's spine. "Tell the commanders of the three legions that if the second line of defense falls again, don't come back—just die there, so you don't have to return to see Konoha trampled to pieces."
Mitokado Homura nodded. "And the people in the village. Chunin and above are to be conscripted without exception. Genin... let them guard the village, manage logistics, and transport the wounded. Don't let them cause trouble."
"What about the older generation?" Hiruzen Sarutobi asked. He still remembered the group of old men with canes shouting for revenge in the square yesterday.
"Let them..." Utatane Koharu wanted to say "stay at home," but swallowed the words back. Some of those old men fought hard battles during World War I; they're tough survivors. If pushed too far, they could fight the demon samurai with swords. "... Let's set up a 'reserve force' and have them defend the area around the village. If absolutely necessary, they can hold out for a while."
Hiruzen Sarutobi didn't speak, but simply picked up the Hokage seal from the table and stamped it on each command. The red ink fell onto the paper like splattered blood flowers.
By the time the order was given, the central square was already packed with people.
Most of the Chunin had solemn expressions, patting each other on the shoulder to encourage each other; the Jonin, gathered together, discussing tactics, their ninja tools gleaming. But there were also quite a few young faces in the crowd, around 10 years old, their faces still bearing the innocence of childhood, clutching their newly issued combat manuals, their fingers trembling violently.
"I... I haven't even been on an A-rank mission yet..." A genin with spiky hair Genin at his companion, his voice trembling, "Forced conscription? But I've only been Chunin three months..."
"Screw what!" his companion retorted, but his voice wasn't much better. "Didn't you hear what the elders said? This is a war against the Oni Clan, not a game with the ninja village. If you're afraid of dying, don't be a ninja!"
That's what he said, but he secretly wiped the sweat from his brow—just yesterday he was begging his mother to make him some meatballs.
Behind the crowd, a group of elderly men and women lined up, holding up their ninja registration certificates, arguing heatedly with the Anbu in charge of registration.
"Why can't I go?" A toothless old man slammed his registration certificate on the table. "I Jonin a Jonin from Iwagakure back in World War I. How could I not handle a few monsters?"
The member of the Anbu looked helpless. "Sir, you're seventy years old, and your legs still aren't very nimble..."
"So what if I'm not good at it?" the old man glared. "I'm better at throwing Shuriken than you! Want to have a go?"
An elderly woman with a cane chimed in, "That's right! It's no loss if we old bones die, it's better than letting those teenagers go and die! Give us our weapons, we'll go guard the front lines!"
Amidst the commotion, someone suddenly shouted, "Look at the sky!"
Everyone looked up.
A dense array of black dots appeared in the southern sky, growing closer and closer until they transformed into fighter jets, followed by ninjas riding giant eagles—the vanguard of the Vermilion Bird Corps's air force. Their armor was still stained with mud from Kusagakure, and some had bandages wrapped around their arms, clearly indicating they had arrived immediately upon receiving orders.
Immediately afterwards, a cloud of dust rose from the main road to the west, the sound of cavalry hooves shook the ground, White Tiger Corps's ninjas drove their war chariots, carrying large banners with the character "White," rushing over like a white torrent.
In the northwestern river, water-based war chariots broke through the water's surface, with Black Tortoise Corps ninjas standing on them, Chakra flowing in their palms. Clearly, they had been using waterways to avoid the Oni Clan and rush back.
The three major legions converged on Konoha from three directions.
The noise in the square gradually subsided, and everyone watched this scene with tears welling up in their eyes.
The young Chunin with the spiky hair gripped the Kunai in his hand Chunin. His fear seemed to have lessened, replaced by something else—like a fire that slowly began to burn within him.
"Looks like... it really comes down to fighting tooth and nail," he said in a low voice.
His companion didn't say anything, but simply patted him on the shoulder.
In Konoha's rune factory, the roar of the machines could shatter one's eardrums.
The enormous furnace glowed red-hot, its contents not of molten iron, but of a special solution mixed with Chakra Metal. Workers, drenched in sweat, poured materials into the furnace while wearing heat-resistant suits, and rune masters rapidly inscribed runes on the sidelines, their fingers blistered from the intense heat, but they didn't bother to wipe them away.
"Hurry up! Hurry up!" the foreman shouted at the top of his lungs. "The front lines are pressing us! We're still short fifty core components for the Thunder Cannon! And we don't have enough energy rune plates for the mechs either!"
A young runemaster's hand trembled, and he made a mistake while carving a rune, instantly scalding himself with a scream from the boiling solution. The experienced craftsman next to him pulled him aside, picked up his carving knife, and squinted as he quickly salvaged the situation. "Stop crying! Is this the time to cry? Think about those people on the front lines, they're risking their lives for time. If we don't produce anything, their lives will have been for nothing!"
The young runemaster gritted his teeth, wiped away his tears, and picked up his carving knife again.
Outside the factory, a small mountain of weapons had been piled up on the open ground. The barrels of the Thunder Cannons gleamed, the parts of the mechs were neatly arranged, and the wings of the fighter jets were painted with ferocious runes. When the ninja tanks of the transport team ran out, they carried these behemoths themselves and ran towards the assembly point of the three legions, their steps as fast as the wind.
The air was filled with the smells of gunpowder, metal, and an indescribable... smell of despair.
Everyone knew this battle would be difficult. The Hokage was dead, the border was breached, and the enemy was the endless Oni Clan. But no one said it aloud, no one even dared to think about it—they could only charge forward, fight desperately, there was no retreat to speak of.
By dusk, the main forces of the three legions had completed their assembly.
Commander Mito Uzumaki of the Vermilion Bird Corps stood on the high platform, looking down at the fully armed ninjas ready for battle. Her longsword pointed north. "Listen up, all of you! When has the Vermilion Bird Corps ever backed down? Today, we'll show those bastards how the fires of Konoha burn!"
"Awooo--"
The White Tiger Corps's cavalry slapped the necks of the ninja beasts, letting out deafening roars.
The Black Tortoise Corps's warships had already entered the river and were heading north, the character "Xuan" on their sails standing out prominently in the setting sun.
At the village entrance, those seeing people off wept bitterly.
A young wife, holding her child, placed a lucky charm in her husband's hand. "Come back alive... your child and I are waiting for you."
The husband hugged them tightly, then turned and followed the group, not daring to look back.
An old woman held her grandson's hand and handed him an ancestral dagger. "Just like your grandfather, stubborn as an ox... When you get to the front lines, don't be as foolish as your grandfather; know when to hide..."
The grandson nodded, his voice choked with emotion, but gripped the dagger even tighter.
Hiruzen Sarutobi stood on the Hokage Rock, watching the large procession leave the village and head towards the second line of defense in the north. Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu stood behind him, their shadows stretching long in the setting sun.
"Can we hold out?" Utatane Koharu asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Mitokado Homura didn't say anything, but simply refilled his pipe with tobacco.
Hiruzen Sarutobi gazed northward, where the sky had been stained black by demonic energy. He spoke slowly, his voice soft yet carrying an undeniable firmness:
We must hold on.
Because behind them was Konoha.
It is the home they have dedicated their lives to protecting.
At the forefront of the column, the vanguard of the Vermilion Bird Corps had already spotted the outline of the second line of defense. It was a massive barrier composed of countless rocks and runes, lying across the wasteland like a giant dragon.
But they also saw that the black wave was already very close in front of the barrier.
The vanguard of the Ghost Tide has arrived.
The battle horn is about to sound.