Interior — Battlefield — Ash Plains of the Five Nations
The world seemed to collapse.
Not from an earthquake, but from the brutality of reality asserting itself before the mightiest shinobi in history. The battlefield drowned in smoke, blood, and muffled screams. And at its center, like specters resurrected from hell, stood the Six Paths of Final Judgment — empty eyes, legendary faces, now soulless servants.
Kakashi Hatake
The chakra blade was about to be summoned when Kakashi froze. Time itself seemed to stop as he saw that figure advancing with lethal precision through the bodies.
— …No… — he muttered, eyes wide.
Sakumo Hatake, the White Fang of Konoha, was cutting through Sand and Mist ninjas with the same ease lightning cuts through the sky. Every movement was cold. Impersonal. His dead eyes recognized no one — not even his own son.
— Father… — Kakashi stepped back, swallowing hard, fingers trembling.
Beside him, Gai shouted, opening the Fourth Gate in fury, trying to hold back Shisui's advance — but Kakashi remained frozen.
That wasn't an enemy.
It was an open wound.
And it bled once more.
Naruto Uzumaki
— Naruto, hang in there! — Sakura begged, pressing her hands against his blood-soaked chest, channeling medical chakra at the limit.
But Naruto's eyes were fixed on the sky.
There he was.
Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage — now a puppet of Final Judgment.
He advanced like a golden, macabre lightning bolt, killing at high speed without hesitation. He moved through exploding battlefields using the Hiraishin, as if war were nothing but a testing ground.
— …Dad… — Naruto murmured, lips cracked, skin torn.
Inside him, Kurama stirred restlessly.
"That's not your father anymore, kid…"
"But it's him… it's his chakra… his movement…"
Naruto felt his heart shatter with every yellow flash.
— If you were still yourself, Dad… you'd never hurt anyone like this…
But the figure kept going. Without mercy. Without pause.
Sakura swallowed her sobs. She too could see, in the distance, the faces of legends — and the fear etched into the eyes of every ninja nearby.
Tsunade
Mud covered her boots. Blood ran down her face.
But nothing prepared her for what stood before her.
— It can't be… — her voice cracked.
Hashirama Senju and Tobirama Senju led the front lines of the Paths, like reincarnated war gods.
Hashirama unleashed the forest with colossal fury — trees crushing entire units of Cloud and Sand.
Tobirama leapt from shadow to shadow, using Edo Tensei to seal shinobi on contact — as if mocking his own creation.
— Grandpa… Uncle… — Tsunade whispered, eyes filling with tears. — How is this possible…?
Beside her, Shizune dropped to her knees, paralyzed by the scene.
Hashirama launched a Mokuton barrage that impaled an entire Iwagakure squad.
Tsunade screamed:
— ENOUGH!!
And slammed the ground with everything she had.
The earth trembled. Cracked. Rose in dust — but not even that could stop the march of the dead.
Gaara
Gaara watched his ninjas being massacred by Madara Uchiha — resurrected and controlled.
Madara, now a Path of Final Judgment, danced through sand techniques like he was toying with children.
— This isn't war… It's a massacre…
He lowered his gaze.
— Where's Jin-Woo…? — he murmured.
— RETREAT! — shouted a Mist general, only to be silenced by a Rasengan blast from Minato.
The Six Paths advanced like divine shadows.
Shisui Uchiha used Kotoamatsukami reflexively, confusing entire squads with illusions so perfect many ended up killing each other without realizing it.
Madara, even without full consciousness, emanated presence — the armor, the partial Susano'o, the battlefield control. It was a show of cold brutality.
Hashirama unleashed forests that crushed mountains.
Tobirama summoned clones and Edo Tensei to increase Akatsuki's numbers.
Sakumo and Shisui swept the flanks.
Minato blinked in and out, scattering explosive tags.
And at the center, Nagato — floating like a prophet — watched.
His Rinnegan eyes burned with violet energy.
— Look at the heroes you once worshipped. See how the gods now judge your failures.
He opened his arms.
— This war… is the verdict.