The Third Raikage's wild laughter echoed across the plain.
His laughter was rough, like two pieces of pig iron grinding hard against each other.
The autumn wind carried it far into the distance.
The Kumogakure army behind him burst into laughter along with him.
Five thousand people laughed at once. The roar startled several birds in midair, sending them flapping wildly away.
A Kumogakure Jonin in the front row drew a broad-bladed Ninja Blade and struck its spine heavily against the small cowhide buckler on his left arm.
"Clang. Clang."
The pounding spread through the ranks like a plague.
Five thousand people began beating their armor and weapons in unison. The clash of metal was deafening.
Several white cowhide war drums sounded at the rear.
Bare-chested strongmen swung their drumsticks, pounding the hides with all their might.
A dull rumble rang out.
The Kumogakure ranks seethed with killing intent, everyone red-eyed and ready to charge across the entire front.
In the Konoha trenches opposite them.
Dead silence. There was not even a cough.
Only the autumn wind swept over the freshly turned mounds of raw earth, whipping up clouds of withered yellow dust.
At the bottom of the trenches, the earth was still wet. Every step sank into mud.
Several hundred Konoha Genin crouched behind the sandbags.
They wore no traditional chain mail, only matching black sleeveless vests of coarse cloth.
A Genin of fifteen or sixteen wiped the cold sweat from his face.
The sweat mixed with mud, smearing his face in blotches.
The muscles on both his arms bulged, even splitting the armholes of his coarse-cloth vest.
Blue-green veins coiled beneath his skin like living earthworms, pulsing with every beat.
That was the biochemical enhancement drug Tsunade had brewed overnight.
The drug was so potent that the Genin's fingers spasmed uncontrollably.
He clenched his back teeth and rubbed his hands hard against his rough trouser legs twice, wiping the sweat from his palms.
In teams of two.
They carried Chakra Maxim heavy machine guns, each weighing two hundred jin.
"One, two, lift."
Amid heavy panting, the weighty pig-iron gun body was braced firmly on the stacked sandbags.
The gun was so heavy that it crushed a large depression into the top sandbag.
Fine sand leaked through gaps in the burlap and spilled onto the Genin's straw sandals.
It carried a strong smell of gun oil.
The assistant gunner beside him opened a heavy wooden crate.
He grabbed a long ammunition belt.
There were no gunpowder cartridges on the belt, only densely packed, eerie blue compressed Chakra crystals.
A miniature yellow Explosive Tag was attached to the tail of each crystal.
The assistant gunner fitted the belt into the gun's feed port.
"Clack."
The main gunner pulled the bolt. Brass parts meshed tightly with a crisp mechanical click.
He gripped the wooden twin handles tightly in both hands.
His fingers rested on the cold iron trigger, his fingernails completely white from the force.
The thick, dark muzzle protruded through a gap between the sandbags.
It was trained firmly on the Kumogakure army five hundred meters ahead.
One long trench.
Three hundred guns in all, three hundred nonreflective black holes.
They formed a straight, orderly line of death.
Two steps behind the trench.
Kagami Uchiha wore a short black fighting outfit, the red armband on his right arm fluttering in the wind.
He had not drawn his blade. He held a small triangular red flag.
His palm was covered in sweat, and the flagstaff was a little slippery.
Kagami shifted the staff to his left hand and wiped his right hand on his trouser leg.
His Three-Tomoe Sharingan turned slowly as he stared past the edge of the earthworks at the Raikage across the plain.
The moment that red flag came down.
Three hundred machine guns would tear everything apart.
Far behind the position.
Behind a row of gray-white windbreak trees.
The trunks began to tremble rhythmically, and withered leaves rustled down, carpeting the ground.
"Keep the tracks moving! Don't fall behind!"
Orochimaru stood on the hood of a modified jeep, holding up a large tin megaphone.
He had shouted his voice raw, leaving it hoarse and breathy.
His white lab coat was smeared with black engine-oil grime.
His normally deathly pale face bore two sickly red flushes from extreme excitement and the cold wind.
He stared fixedly at the steel behemoths behind him.
Ten mass-produced Chakra mechs.
They formed an inverted V-shaped formation.
And slowly rolled out from behind the windbreak.
Their tracks crushed withered grass and mud.
They made a grating "creak" that set the teeth on edge.
Large clods of earth were drawn into the tracks' pig-iron gears and brutally crushed to powder in an instant.
Each mech stood five meters tall.
Their heavy blue-gray steel armor radiated a cold, deathly aura under the overcast sky, without a single unnecessary decoration.
Every steel plate had been welded on for killing.
In each mech's chest.
A Four Symbols reactor glowed an eerie blue beneath a transparent glass cover.
Chakra spun madly inside, producing a low-frequency hum of energy.
In the cockpits.
Ten civilian Chunin were deathly pale, three Chakra extraction hoses inserted into each of their backs.
The agonizing pain made them bite through their lips, and the smell of blood filled the cramped steel compartments.
But they gripped the controls tightly, their eyes fixed on the targeting screens before them.
The mechs' square heads lifted.
Their red electronic eyes pierced the dust billowing ahead, like ten enormous one-eyed steel monsters.
They locked firmly onto the battlefield ahead.
A torrent of five hundred tons of steel.
It pressed down on the ground, producing one heavy rumble after another.
"Thump. Thump. Thump."
The vibrations traveled through the earth, past the trenches ahead.
All the way to the distant plain.
The oppressive pressure made even the air feel thick.
At the front of the Kumogakure ranks.
The Third Raikage stopped laughing.
His bare feet rested in straw sandals planted on the hard, dry plain.
The soles of his feet suddenly felt a faint tingling.
The ground was shaking.
In a steady rhythm, neither hurried nor slow.
It was definitely not the vibration of exploding Explosive Tags. It was as if enormous beasts were approaching in formation.
He frowned, his two thick black eyebrows drawing together.
His gaze crossed the plain.
And fell on the long earthen ditches opposite.
There was no one atop the earthworks.
No Konoha Ninja throwing Kunai, no shield bearers lined up in formation.
Only a row of black iron pipes, protruding half a chi from the sandbags.
An autumn wind swept across the plain.
There was not a ripple of Chakra from those muzzles. They were as quiet as a pile of scrap iron.
Dodai, the military strategist, stood beside the Raikage.
He swallowed, a flicker of unease passing through his one eye.
"Lord Raikage." Dodai edged half a step closer, keeping his voice very low.
"It's too quiet. There's no way Konoha has no defenses at all. Could it be an ambush?"
The Third Raikage turned and glanced at Dodai.
He suddenly raised a massive hand and slapped Dodai on the shoulder.
"Bang."
Half of Dodai's body went numb from the slap, and he nearly fell.
"An ambush?"
The Raikage snorted a puff of white vapor through his broad nostrils.
"A bunch of turtles too scared to show their faces, hiding in mud pits and playing tricks."
He rolled his thick neck, and his vertebrae cracked twice.
"Konoha's precious Will of Fire looks to me like it's turned into the will of rats."
The Raikage snorted contemptuously.
He paid those lousy iron pipes no mind at all.
He had an absolute defense: Lightning Release Chakra Mode.
Back when the Eight-Tails had run amok, he had pinned the beast to the ground with his bare hands and broken off its horns.
A few lousy iron pipes that didn't even glow, a few shallow mud pits.
Could they stop Kumogakure's iron hooves?
"Crackle!"
Blue lightning burst across the Raikage's dark skin.
Arcs leaped, instantly scorching the withered grass around him and releasing a pungent smell of ozone.
His hair stood on end, like the mane of a furious lion.
The Raikage raised his thick right arm, wrapped in raging lightning.
And swung it sharply forward.
Lightning carved a dazzling blue streak through the air.
"All forces, charge!"
The Raikage's roar drowned out the rumbling war drums behind him.
"Crush them!"
"Kill!!!"
Five thousand Kumogakure elites roared in unison.
The shout shook even the low-hanging clouds.
Countless pairs of cowhide boots stamped hard against the plain, crushing dry grass and stones.
The vanguard in the first row, carrying small round shields, charged out.
Those behind drew their Ninja Blades and followed close behind.
A black torrent spread out in an instant.
Five thousand Kumogakure ninja surged like a raging tsunami.
They charged across the land toward the dead-silent trench ahead!