Hiruzen Sarutobi was kicked and staggered a few steps.
My foot slipped on the steel plate of the carriage, and the sole of my shoe made a screeching sound.
The heavy metal camera stand came crashing down.
The hard base dug directly into his left scapula, which was covered in whip marks.
"Well!"
Hiruzen screamed in agony. Half of his body went numb instantly.
A piercing pain shot through his bones. The cast iron shackles on his ankles clanged against each other, making a dull metallic sound.
"Snap."
On the side of the device, a red "LIVE" indicator light flashed.
The red light shone on Hiruzen's face, which was covered in mud and tears.
The signal traveled along the thick antenna on the top of the command vehicle, directly cutting into the entire Shinobi World's electric grid laid out by Konoha.
The image was forcibly inserted into the receiving screens of the various ninja villages.
Iwagakure. Tsuchikage's Office.
The large screen on the wall flickered with static twice.
Ōnoki slumped in his chair, his old eyes fixed on the shaky images on the screen.
The image first shows half a calloused finger, then it comes into focus.
Kumogakure.
Dai Raikage 'Dodai teacup stopped in mid-air.
He didn't wipe the tea that had spilled on the back of his hand.
On the screen, sandstorms raged.
And that haggard, dusty face at the edge of the lens.
"That's... Hiruzen Sarutobi?" Dodai swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.
Inside the command vehicle.
The diesel generator roared, and the floor vibrated so hard that it made the soles of one's feet go numb.
The Uchiha officer pressed a cold Kunai against Hiruzen's lower back.
The knife tip pierced the gray hemp clothing and embedded half an inch into the flesh.
"Speak," the officer hissed, exhaling a smoke ring.
"Let me introduce to the entire Shinobi World your proud traditional ninja way."
Hiruzen bit his lower lip.
Teeth cut through the dry, cracked flesh, and the metallic taste mixed with sand and dust entered the throat.
He held the heavy, black metal camera, weighing forty or fifty pounds, with both hands; his knuckles turned white from the force.
"This is... the border of the Land of Wind."
The voice was hoarse, like a rusty saw blade grinding wood. It got stuck as soon as it opened its mouth.
The kunai at his waist was pushed forward a little more.
The stinging pain made Hiruzen shudder.
" Konoha's armored forces... are advancing."
Hiruzen let out a soft, leaky sob.
Tears mixed with sand rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the plastic casing of the camera.
The camera is pointed at the battlefield outside the car window.
The once barren yellow sand dunes have been charred black by artillery fire.
A dark green Chakra rolled over a sand dune, its tracks catching up severed limbs and torsos.
The rising dust obscured the sky and blocked out the sun.
"Ahead... is the third line of defense for Sunagakure."
Hiruzen faced the microphone, his hands trembling so much he could barely hold the device. The screen shook accordingly.
In the shot.
More than twenty Sunagakure, dressed in windproof robes, crawled out of the wrecked trenches.
They held Kunai and short swords in their hands.
The blade was coated with Wind Release Chakra, gleaming with a faint blue light.
The group of people nimbly spread out in skirmish lines, treading on the undulating sand.
"For Lord Kazekage!"
The leader of the Sand Ninja roared, his voice transmitted through the noise-canceling microphone into the live stream.
They sprinted across the sand, attempting to close in on the tanks using traditional tactics.
I want to attach the Explosive Tag to the tracks.
Hiruzen looked at these people.
He used to teach Konoha Ninja the same way back at the Ninja Academy.
For the sake of the village, one must be prepared to sacrifice. This is called a bond.
He believed this story his whole life.
But reality is a heartless meat grinder.
The heavy machine gun turret on the tank's roof rotates.
The red mechanical sensors locked onto the charging crowd.
The hydraulic motor made a soft "buzzing" sound.
"Da da da da!"
The machine gun spat out fire that was half a meter long.
Brass bullet casings rained down on the sand, creating small craters.
The crisp sound of shells being tossed together filled the air.
Hiruzen's hand, which was holding the camera, suddenly trembled.
In the shot, the leader of the Sand Ninja had just jumped into the air, preparing to throw his Kunai.
Three large-caliber tungsten steel armor-piercing rounds struck his chest cavity directly.
The bulletproof vest was shattered into pieces.
While the person was still in mid-air, a large hole exploded in their chest.
The blood mist exploded with a deafening roar, its crimson color blindingly bright.
Minced meat mixed with bone fragments was scattered on the scorching sand.
The man didn't even have time to scream before he was reduced to a pile of mangled flesh.
The remaining people didn't even have a chance to Hand Seals.
The dense barrage of metallic bullets resembled an invisible, giant scythe.
It swept across the sand dunes.
"Puff puff puff!"
The dull thuds of bullets piercing flesh rang out one after another.
More than a dozen people were instantly cut in two.
Severed arms and internal organs lay steaming on the sand.
A young Sand Ninja had both legs broken.
He lay in a pool of blood, his hands gripping the scalding sand as he crawled forward.
They scratched their fingernails into the sand until they bled.
A long, dark red trail of blood trailed behind him. "Help..." he cried, spitting out blood.
A tracked vehicle drove by with a creaking sound.
The young Sand Ninja's screams abruptly ceased.
The minced meat was crushed into the sand, mixing into a dark red bloody paste.
It took less than ten seconds in total.
The twenty-odd men who charged forward all became fertilizer on the ground.
In front of the big screen.
Dodai fell to the ground with a thud, knocking over the chair next to him.
The samurai leader of the Land of Iron stared at the screen, his teacup falling onto the tatami mat, soaking it with tea.
The entire Shinobi World watched this one-sided massacre live. There were no cheers, only deathly silence.
The so-called Bushido and Ninja Way are nothing but a joke in the face of these steel monsters.
Inside the command vehicle.
Hiruzen stared blankly at the small monitor screen on the side of the camera.
Breathing stopped.
Snot dripped down his lips, and he forgot to wipe it away.
He recalled how many sleepless nights he spent practicing a compound Ninjutsu when he was young.
The speed of Hand Seals and the control of Chakra were once the gold standard that determined the life and death of ninjas.
What about now?
All you need to do is sit inside the metal shell and press a red button.
Decades of rigorous training couldn't stop a bullet produced on an assembly line.
His proud Will of Fire.
Those traditional ninja ways that rely on passion, slogans, and desperate struggle to sustain themselves.
It's as fragile as a sheet of paper in the face of industrial bullets fired at 600 rounds per minute.
Those people wouldn't even qualify as cannon fodder in front of tanks.
There was no brutal Chakra.
There is no such thing as a game between masters.
Only the monotonous sound of gunfire, and lives falling like wheat being harvested.
"They... are all dead."
Hiruzen muttered to himself, his voice hollow.
The filter he had in his heart was completely shattered by the train tracks.
In this era, Chakra is useless waste if it's not installed in a generator.
The Uchiha officer sneered.
He reached out and patted Hiruzen's dust-covered cheek. The sound was a soft "smack, smack."
"Keep filming. Don't let your hands shake."
Suddenly, the sand and dust outside the car window churned violently.
A Sunagakure Jonin, dressed in a high-class vest, emerged from underground.
He held a complex hand seal, his hands moving so fast they left afterimages.
Blood trickling from the corner of his mouth was clearly a sign that he had overdrawn his Chakra.
" Wind Release: Pressure Damage!"
The Jonin roared in fury.
A highly compressed tornado ball formed in front of him.
The hurricane, accompanied by a piercing whistle, slammed into the foremost heavy tank.
The whirlwind exploded violently on the armor.
"Boom!"
The strong wind blew away all the sand within a ten-meter radius, revealing the yellowish-brown rocks underneath.
Hiruzen his breath, staring intently at the monitor.
My fingers scratched several white marks on the camera casing.
Perhaps... high-level Ninjutsu can still be of some use?
Perhaps we can even break through that sheet metal?
The sandstorm has subsided.
The dark green tank remained steadily in place, its engine still humming softly.
There wasn't even a dent on the thick composite armor.
Only a faint white mark was left when the wind blades swept past.
Even the paint hasn't completely peeled off.
The Sunagakure Jonin frozen in place.
His hands were still in the final Hand Seals position, his fingertips trembling.
His chin was slightly open. Despair filled his face, which was cracked and parched from the wind and sand.
Hiruzen closed his eyes.
Two streams of murky tears slid down the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
It smashed into the steel plate beneath its feet, shattering into several pieces.
It's hopeless. The old era is completely over.
Just then...
The large loudspeaker on the roof of the command vehicle suddenly emitted a piercing electrical shriek.
"Sizzle--"
Then came Shu Shiraishi's emotionless, icy voice.
The sound slammed heavily onto the entire battlefield through the loudspeaker.
The live stream signal also reached the ears of everyone watching the screen throughout the entire Shinobi World.
Let the old era see.
Shu Shiraishi's voice drowned out the roar of the armored vehicle's tracks.
What is "dimensional reduction attack"?