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Chapter 210 - CHAPTER 210

He needed to eliminate all threats in an instant, or he would crumble beneath the immense pressure he was enduring.

The Demonic Statue of the Outer Path—originally used to seal the nine tailed beasts—was no longer what it once was. Though currently dormant and lacking the full might of the Ten-Tails, it remained a powerful and ominous entity. Being a lifeless husk, it was even more difficult for Nagato to control through the power of the Rinnegan.

At this moment, his ocular power was being pushed to its limit, barely managing to force the Demonic Statue to launch an attack.

The statue's gaping mouth opened, releasing a white, dragon-shaped construct made purely of chakra.

It was an ethereal manifestation—immense and serpentine—more terrifying than even a Tailed Beast Ball. Unlike the destructive blasts of the tailed beasts, this entity carried a presence eerily reminiscent of Six Paths chakra.

Far away in a remote estate in the Land of Fire, Kawaki Aoba furrowed his brow. His attention locked onto the white dragon-shaped chakra spirit emerging from the Demonic Statue.

If memory served, Nagato had attempted a similar technique in the original timeline, targeting Hanzō of the Salamander. Though many of Hanzō's men perished, the warlord himself had escaped. But this time was different.

Now, the Demonic Statue had already absorbed eight of the nine tailed beasts, and what it unleashed carried traces of the Six Paths power—a mutation of chakra rarely seen outside of divine-class techniques.

The air trembled as the spectral dragon surged forward.

Kawaki Aoba considered intervening. He cared little for most of the ninja forces gathered here. But Jiraiya, who had stumbled into this battlefield, was different.

As the white chakra dragon surged outward, Ōnoki, the aged Tsuchikage, felt an immediate and overwhelming sense of death.

Nagato had deliberately marked him as the first to be eliminated.

"I'm going to die," Ōnoki realized, the thought chilling him to the bone.

Despite his pride, Ōnoki was not foolish. With sheer survival instinct, he turned and fled the battlefield—likely the wisest choice he had made in years.

Yet even that wasn't enough.

The dragon was faster than lightning, its chakra compressed into an unstoppable projectile. It reached Ōnoki in an instant. The old man barely registered a flash of white before his consciousness faded.

There was no pain—only emptiness.

Ōnoki's body plummeted from the sky, and though it would likely be shattered beyond recognition, the dragon was not done. Twisting in midair, it targeted the ninja battalions below.

From a distance, Jiraiya, Mei Terumi, and others watched in stunned silence as the white dragon carved through the ranks of Iwagakure, Kumogakure, and even some scattered Kirigakure and Sunagakure shinobi. They fell like wheat under a sickle.

"Not good—run!"

Mei Terumi was the first to react. Even a veteran like Ōnoki was annihilated instantly—what chance did they stand?

"Scatter!" she ordered, her voice sharp with urgency.

Though the dragon was swift, if they split up, some might survive. The chakra construct couldn't chase all of them simultaneously.

Nearby, Yakura, former Mizukage of Kirigakure, stood hesitating. His gaze lingered on the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path, his eyes gleaming with desire. It was clear—he recognized that the Ten-Tails was beginning to form.

Yet reason overcame greed. Seeing his own ninja scattering, Yakura finally gave the order to retreat, urging Sunagakure and Kirigakure's remaining forces to escape.

Meanwhile, Jiraiya's eyes stayed fixed on Nagato. A part of him still believed he could reach the boy with words.

He took a step forward—but a young, commanding voice echoed in his mind.

"Your best option now is to retreat. With your abilities, as long as you move quickly, you'll survive. The intel you sent to Konoha has been received. The revival of the Ten-Tails is within our plans. Return to the village. You're no longer needed on this battlefield. For now, Konoha is the safest place in the world."

Jiraiya froze.

That voice… it was familiar.

A moment of reflection—and then recognition. Kawaki Aoba. The boy hailed as Konoha's strongest genius, a prodigy some now referred to as the "God of the Shinobi World."

Suddenly, everything clicked. No wonder Minato's reply to his report had seemed so cryptic—asking him to return without explanation. It had all been part of a greater plan. Information had been withheld, likely to avoid leaks.

Jiraiya turned toward the towering Demonic Statue. Its presence dwarfed even the largest mountains. The pressure it exuded was suffocating—even to someone of Jiraiya's caliber.

Konoha… it's changed.

The new generation was something else. They now moved pieces on a board that once ruled over them.

Compared to Aoba, Jiraiya felt small—just an old man who had failed even his own students.

He gazed toward Nagato.

I'm sorry, he thought.

He knew the best course now was retreat. Watching the devastating losses suffered by the other villages, Jiraiya realized the truth:

This boy—Kawaki Aoba—intended to unify the shinobi world.

And he was about to succeed.

If Jiraiya returned to Konoha now, perhaps in the near future, peace would truly come.

The era of resistance was over.

Before the power of gods, even defiance was a farce.

"The Great Toad Sage once prophesied that my disciple would become the Child of Destiny—the one who would bring peace to the ninja world.

But the Nagato standing before me now is clearly being manipulated, a pawn caught in someone else's game.

Perhaps the Great Toad Sage was wrong. Or maybe… maybe there's still a turning point ahead—one where Nagato truly changes this world.

But that's for the future to decide. And the future is uncertain. As his teacher, it's my responsibility to guide him back onto the right path."*

While shinobi scattered in all directions to flee, Jiraiya went against the tide—walking resolutely toward his former disciple.

In a distant manor within the Land of Fire, Kawaki Aoba watched through his scrying mirror and understood Jiraiya's intent. He wasn't surprised.

After all, Jiraiya was that kind of man—a hero who walked alone if he had to.

Aoba had already given Jiraiya his warnings. Now that he'd made his choice, Aoba wouldn't try to stop him. In fact, he was curious—curious to see whether the man who had lived a life of wandering and freedom could now use words to redeem a fallen disciple.

Could his famed "Talk-no-Jutsu" really reach Nagato?

On the battlefield, Nagato sensed Jiraiya approaching. His Rinnegan flickered.

"So… you've come," Nagato said, his voice low, tinged with sorrow.

"I have," Jiraiya replied, staring at the boy he once trained—now a man feared by nations.

"You shouldn't have," Nagato said coldly. But unlike his canon counterpart, he wasn't filled with hatred. Yahiko and Konan were still alive, and Jiraiya's sudden appearance simply felt… inconvenient.

"No," Jiraiya said, uncharacteristically solemn, "I came at the right time. If I waited any longer, I might have missed my chance."

Recalling the years he had spent training the trio, Jiraiya tried once more to reason with Nagato:

"Nagato, stop this. That thing—the Ten-Tails—it's beyond your control. You don't understand how deep this conspiracy runs."

Back at the manor, Aoba's face twisted in confusion.

He had expected a heart-wrenching confrontation, not banter that sounded oddly familiar.

"Why does it feel like they're quoting memes in front of me…?"

On the battlefield, Nagato's expression hardened.

"Jiraiya-sensei… I'll call you that one last time. But I know what I'm doing. If you try to stop me—I'll treat you as an enemy."

His Rinnegan turned, tracking the remnants of the scattered shinobi forces.

In the short time since his arrival, a dragon-shaped mass of chakra—his new summon—had already decimated elite units from Iwagakure and Kumogakure. Now it surged after the retreating shinobi of Kirigakure and Sunagakure.

Nagato estimated the outcome coldly. He wouldn't be able to wipe out everyone—but eighty to ninety percent was possible.

That kind of loss... it would cripple the five great nations.

He had brought the world to the brink—by himself.

But compared to the imminent return of the Ten-Tails, these casualties were minor. If he could wipe them out, great. If not, driving them away would suffice.

His eyes returned to Jiraiya.

"Say what you came to say," he demanded.

But Jiraiya's words weren't what he expected.

"Nagato, please. You've been used. Tell me what you know. I'll help you. Yahiko and Konan too. If they knew what you were doing, they'd want you to stop. There's nothing we can't resolve through understanding."

Nagato stared at his former teacher—disbelief etched into his expression.

"Nothing that can't be resolved through communication?" he repeated mockingly. "Is that a joke?"

"If talking worked, why did the Five Great Nations wage war again and again? Why do shadowy figures manipulate the world from behind the scenes? Why didn't they talk things out?"

There was pity in Nagato's voice.

"You're still so naive, Jiraiya-sensei."

Jiraiya flinched at the words, guilt tugging at his heart.

"Nagato, it's different—"

"It's the same!" Nagato interrupted. "The strong shape the world in their image. That's the unchanging reality of the ninja system."

"I just want to protect Yahiko and Konan. But our lives… they're already shackled by Uchiha Madara. Do you understand that? I don't have a choice."

*"If I don't get stronger, I can't protect them. I can't realize Yahiko's dream. I can't bring peace.

That's why I'll become a god."*

Every word pierced Jiraiya's heart like a kunai.

He had trained them for three years—but knew nothing of the horrors they had endured afterward.

If only I had stayed longer… brought them to Konoha…

But it was too late for regrets.

"I'm sorry, Nagato," Jiraiya said softly. "As your teacher, I bear part of the blame for what you've become—and for the pain you three have suffered."

This time, he didn't argue.

He bowed his head—not as a ninja, but as a teacher seeking forgiveness.

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