---
The battlefield was still smoking, a red haze lingering in the air like the breath of a dragon freshly awakened. Cracked stones radiated heat, and scorched earth extended for hundreds of meters in every direction. The sheer destruction Sasuke had wrought from a single jutsu stunned even the most hardened shinobi.
But Sasuke—
He wasn't done.
A flicker of childlike wonder mixed with vengeance danced in his Mangekyou Sharingan, which glowed with ferocious intensity. No additional marks. No monstrous design. Just the cold, beautiful spiral of hatred passed down through generations.
And now… it burned with **excitement**.
He looked at the devastation he had created, the flames he commanded—Madara's own legacy revived through him. His chakra swirled around him like a cloak of fire, not summoned by Susanoo but by sheer elemental dominance.
He whispered again, as if unable to stop himself:
> **"Katon: Gōka Mekkyaku!"**
> *(Majestic Destroyer Flame)*
The second wave surged from his lungs, a torrent of fire so wide and high it seemed to **swallow the sky**. The very air shimmered from the heat. Wind currents distorted. Nature itself recoiled. This flame wasn't wild—it was majestic, a dragon given form by sheer will and chakra.
"Not again!" Temari shouted, stepping forward to defend, but Gaara raised his arm.
"I've got it!"
Gaara slammed both hands onto the ground. The earth trembled. His sand responded like a loyal beast—rising in a massive wall, far thicker and broader than before. Dozens of layers spiraled together as chakra poured from his reserves, sculpting an enormous **fortress of sand**.
The fire hit.
And the battle of nature began.
The wall trembled under the blow. The surface sizzled, steamed, and turned black at the edges. But Gaara didn't stop. He forced more chakra into the sand, compressing it tighter and reinforcing it mid-burn. Sand whipped around his body as he fed it all to the barrier.
"RAAAGH!" Gaara growled, sweat dripping down his face. He pulled more sand from the earth, sculpting it faster than ever, even drawing from deep beneath the ground.
Sasuke, watching from across the inferno, widened his eyes—not in fear, but in something close to admiration. "Let's see how long it holds."
He poured more chakra into the flames. The inferno surged, crashing into Gaara's sand like a tidal wave of molten fury. The fire crept higher. The temperature rose.
The sand hissed.
Steam rose violently from within as the moisture evaporated. Then—
A crack.
Tiny at first. But loud. Like glass breaking in a quiet room.
Gaara felt his strength falter. His vision blurred for a moment. Knees shaking, he dropped down on one leg, panting hard. "No… not yet…"
He placed both palms on the earth again. The sand responded with another surge—but this time slower. His chakra was beginning to **wane**. Temari reached toward him.
"Gaara—stop! You'll burn yourself out!"
"I must hold it…" Gaara whispered, refusing to retreat.
And then—
Silence.
The flames began to die down. Not all at once, but gradually. They had nothing left to consume. The sand had withstood it.
But what they saw next made everyone freeze.
The enormous sand wall that Gaara had conjured…
It wasn't sand anymore.
It was glass.
Shimmering, translucent, and cracked, it stood like an obsidian cathedral under the sun. The top was jagged and spiked, the base still smoking. The entire surface glinted with red and gold hues, the marks of extreme heat and compressed chakra.
Even Sasuke blinked in surprise.
"…He turned it into glass," C muttered from the back, stunned.
Darui narrowed his eyes. "That fire… it was so hot it changed the chemical structure of the sand."
Raikage clenched his fists. "We're not fighting a boy anymore. That's a demon with Uchiha blood."
Gaara slowly stood, his hand on the glass wall as he steadied himself. His breathing was ragged, sweat poured down his forehead, and his limbs trembled from chakra exhaustion—but his eyes remained firm.
"It's done," he murmured. "I blocked it."
From behind the smoke, Sasuke stepped forward. His cloak fluttered, partially burned from the sheer recoil of his own technique, and yet he walked calmly, almost… contemplatively. There was no rage now. No sneer. Only a subtle curiosity in his voice as he spoke across the field.
"Interesting…" he said, eyeing the wall. "You managed to withstand two of them. You're stronger than I thought, Gaara."
The compliment didn't sound mocking—but it carried weight.
Sasuke came to a halt a few meters from the front edge of the battlefield, his chakra still flaring faintly with embers from the jutsu. His Mangekyou spun in silence, no flickering tomoe, no extra form—just his true eyes, burning with cold conviction.
Kankuro appeared beside Gaara, having finally regrouped. "Gaara, you're almost out of chakra. You can't keep going like this."
Gaara nodded once. "I know. But I'm not letting him take another step closer to the others."
Temari clutched her fan tightly. "We might not last if he does that again."
But Sasuke didn't move.
Instead, he looked up at the towering glass wall. It was beautiful in a terrible way—reflecting the firelight like a monument to battle. He took a breath and exhaled, his body finally showing signs of fatigue, though his face didn't betray much.
Realization sent a ripple through the remnants of the battlefield.
Because in this moment, they all understood:
Sasuke Uchiha didn't need Susanoo to reshape the land.
He didn't need dark flames to bring terror.
He didn't need evolution in his eyes to stand above.
All he needed…
Was his fire.
His will.
And a heart burning with vengeance.
He had inherited more than a name.
He had inherited the legacy of destruction—and now, he was choosing what that legacy meant for him.
As the glass wall steamed behind them, and Gaara stood on weakened legs with fire reflecting in his eyes, Sasuke stepped forward once more.
Not to attack.
But to speak.
"…Shall we continue?"
The wind picked up.
No one answered.
But the flames between them had only just begun to fade.
---
**To be continued…**