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At the foot of Kikyō Mountain citadel, the battle overturned in an instant. One second the Suna army was drunk on the coming victory; the next they had fallen into a death trap woven for them.
Minato Namikaze's very existence overturned ordinary shinobi common sense. His Flying Thunder God Technique had no hand-seal lead-in or travel path—pure concept-level 'blink'. Golden light flared wherever a Kunai landed, amid exploding-tag smoke, even beside a flung Suna Ninja; every flash brought precise, efficient death. Like a cold Shinigami he wove through their ranks, Kunai etched with formulae, and Suna fell in swathes before they could scream. He was true lightning; reflexes could not track him, despair spread like plague. The rumor—'On sighting Konoha's yellow flash, the mission may be abandoned'—became blood-soaked reality.
From the flank, Orochimaru rode Manda, bringing another terror. Each whip of the colossal serpent cleared ground, smashing Suna Ninja and barricades into pulp; the purple poison mist corroded everything, carving instant dead-zones. Orochimaru himself was a wraith, launching vicious jutsu, the Grass Cutter's gleam raising crimson sprays. The Konoha clan troops behind him were elite, a dagger driven into Suna's reeling rear.
On the wall, the supposedly crumbling Konoha garrison, heartened by reinforcements, erupted with lethal force. Jutsu, shuriken, exploding tags rained, joining the yellow flash and serpent tide to hammer Suna from three sides.
Magnet Release: Gold Dust Funeral!
Fourth Kazekage Rasa's eyes split as he poured out every drop of Chakra. The vast golden sand ceased attacking and swept back, forming huge, ever-shifting ramparts to block, intercept, cage that lethal golden flash.
Gold Dust versus Flying Thunder God became the battlefield's marvel. Rasa strained to compress Minato's space with massed, high-density shields, forcing parries or redirects between blinks, buying his men a heartbeat. Whenever Minato's Kunai neared a vital target, a wall of gold shot up. The clash of two Kage-level titans pinned down top fighters on both sides.
On the other side, Elder Chiyo and Ebizō showed uncanny harmony. Several of the Kuroari, Hitokiri, Sasoris Puppets were summoned; together with Ebizō's illusions and traps they held Manda's rampage and Orochimaru's strikes at bay, buying the rear a moment to rally—yet only barely, locked in a bitter fight.
The entire field sank into unprecedented chaos. Offense and defense reversed; Suna's host teetered, its line ready to shatter.
At this critical breath, Sayo's hoarse roar rang through the tumult: 'Puppet Squad! First Battalion, Third Company—follow me! Hold the wall's fire!'
He knew he could do nothing against the yellow flash or Orochimaru, but he had to act. If the wall's Konoha force surged out and linked with the rear enemy, all would be lost.
Driving the mirage, he abandoned personal kills and pushed Magnet Release to the limit.
Magnet Release: Iron Sand Boundary! A titanic iron-sand bulwark rose, blocking the dense jutsu volley from the wall.
Wind Release: Vacuum Great Ball! A spear of compressed air smashed the parapet, silencing Konoha guns.
Earth Release: Earth Flow Wall! Earthen ramparts lifted at the last second, shielding scattered Suna squads.
At the same time his Chakra Threads danced, precisely steering every puppet in the company.
'Shield puppets forward! spider puppets onto the wall to harass! Attack puppets focus-fire that flame-spitter—move!'
His orders were crisp, urgent, yet calm—the composure of a commander amid chaos. Under him the company stood like a reef in a torrent, stemming Konoha's counter-attack.
Sayo himself became a fire-fighter: wherever the line buckled, the mirage appeared—iron sand now a spear to skewer Konoha skirmishers, now a shield for comrades. He even snatched moments for Healing Jutsu to pull wounded allies from death's edge.
His performance drew Konoha's fire, easing pressure on Rasa and Chiyo, buying Suna priceless breaths to regroup.
Below Kikyō Mountain the field had become a true meat-grinder. Suna and Konoha hacked at each other amid flashing jutsu, bursting fire, clashing steel, and despairing screams—a bloody requiem. Every inch of soil drank blood; every second life ended.
Suna's defeat showed, yet under Rasa, Chiyo, Ebizō and countless fighters like Sayo, they still struggled, still resisted, pushing the final ruin back minute by bloody minute. The war's end seemed sealed, but its path was agony and valiant sorrow.
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