Simultaneous Time Travel: What Villain? I'm the Protagonist!

The moment Yi Shi's words landed, Sheng Ren moved.

It's not a forward thrust, it's a backward thrust.

He pushed off with his feet, leaping back ten zhang (approximately 33 meters), his heels carving two deep furrows in the ice. Almost simultaneously, the space where he had just stood shattered like glass struck by a giant hammer, countless fine cracks spreading outwards from the center.

Yi Shi emerged from the crack, his right hand loosely clenched, the black cube in his palm already swelled to the size of a fist.

"They reacted very quickly."

He gave Sheng Ren no chance to catch his breath. He raised his left hand and pressed it down on Sheng Ren, who was ten feet away.

The space where Sheng Ren was located collapsed once again.

This time it wasn't a three-meter radius, but a full ten meters. The ice, the air, the light—everything was collapsing towards the singularity at the center, invisible to the naked eye, tearing a ten-meter-diameter crater in the ice.

Sheng Ren is not in the pit.

He rose abruptly from the ground before the collapse, soaring into the sky. His white robes left a trail of afterimages in the air, like a startled egret taking flight.

Yishi looked up at him.

How many times can you dodge?

With a flick of his right hand, the black cube flew out. The cube flashed through the air three times, each time getting closer to Sheng Ren. The third time, it appeared directly three inches in front of Sheng Ren's face.

Sheng Ren tilted his head, and the cube flew past his earlobe, leaving a trail of blood.

He didn't pause. He forcefully veered in mid-air, his toes touching the empty air—there was nothing there—but he still managed to gain momentum, his entire body shooting like an arrow, straight towards the top of Yi Shi's head.

With his right hand fingers together like a knife, a three-foot-long blade of light condensed from a seven-colored halo and slashed down.

Raise your hand, palm facing upward.

"Mahakala".

A massive, three-zhang-wide rift opened in space, and from the crack fell silently seven black cubes arranged in a shield, layer upon layer, like a black wall, blocking Yi Shi's head.

The light blade slashed on the first piece.

With a muffled thud, the light blade cut three inches into the cube and got stuck.

The second piece is added.

The third piece.

The fourth piece.

The seven cubes wriggled like living things, and in the blink of an eye, they swallowed Sheng Ren's right arm along with half of the light blade.

Sheng Ren made a decisive move, pointing his left hand with both fingers together, and slashed his own right elbow with a knife.

It wasn't severing his arm, but severing the half of the light blade. The chakra-condensed blade shattered at his elbow, turning into countless tiny specks of light. He pulled his arm back, leaped backward, and landed on the ice ten feet away, glancing down at his right hand.

The tiger's mouth was split open, and blood flowed down his wrist.

He swiftly retrieved the seven cubes into his palm. Like birds returning to their nests, they melted into his skin one by one.

"Your blade isn't sharp enough," he said. "A blade formed from chakra is just a consumable in front of Daikokuten."

Sheng Ren didn't speak, but shook his right hand, and blood splattered on the ice, spreading a small patch of red.

Then he raised his hand again.

This time, he formed a hand seal.

Si, Wei, Shen, Hai, Wu, Yin... His fingers flew like butterflies, completing the complex hand seals in a single second.

One move involves squinting.

The clouds above the battlefield silently parted, retreating from the center outwards, as if something was about to descend from the sky. Sunlight poured down from the crack, shining directly on Sheng Ren.

The pale golden wings behind him suddenly expanded in the sunlight.

The golden giant wings, each feather ablaze, spanned over ten zhang, with iridescent arcs of electricity flowing along their edges, leaving ripples in the air with every flap.

Sheng Ren stood in that light, his clothes fluttering in the wind.

Yishi looked at him.

"That's more like it."

Sheng Ren did not answer. He raised his hand, his five fingers loosely clenched, and the arcs of electricity flowing on the wings of light began to converge into his palm.

He grasped the bolt of lightning.

Then he swung it.

"Immortal Technique: Lightning Escape - Purple Lightning Yin Lightning!"

The lightning bolt shot out from his palm, leaving a straight golden trail in the air. Wherever the trail passed, the air was ionized, the ice surface was evaporated, and even space itself was left with a crack.

This arrow was so fast that even Yi Shi's spatial perception was half a beat slow.

He turned to the side, the golden arrow grazing his left ribs and leaving a scorch mark on his robe. He didn't look at the scorch mark, because the second arrow was already coming.

The third arrow.

The fourth arrow.

Sheng Ren didn't form any more hand seals. He simply stood within the pillar of light, firing arrow after arrow, each one targeting a vital point. Without pause, without warning, the arrows condensed in the void, then tore through space, heading straight for their targets.

He moved through the rain of arrows.

His figure appeared and disappeared intermittently, each time reappearing at a different location three zhang away. Sometimes he moved to the left, sometimes to the right, and sometimes he leaped directly into the air. Golden arrows grazed his clothes, hair, and shoes, embedding themselves in the ice, rocks, and distant mountain walls behind him.

Boom boom boom boom boom—

Each arrow that landed exploded with a burst of golden lightning. The lightning shattered, the ice surface cracked, debris flew everywhere, and shockwaves spread outwards like ripples. In the blink of an eye, the earth was plowed into the surface of the moon, with countless craters one after another.

Within the allied forces, someone shouted out first.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

No one hesitated. The formation surged backward like the receding tide. But the area affected by the lightning was too large, and the retreat was simply not fast enough.

A golden arc of electricity grazed the cheek of a Konoha Chunin, slicing off half of his headband. He stood there stunned, touching his face; his hand was covered in blood.

"Run!" His companion grabbed him and dragged him away.

The Third Raikage stood at the edge of the formation, not retreating. He looked up at the ice field ravaged by lightning, then at his own index finger, which was still slowly repairing itself.

"...My skillful hand is a joke."

Wu remained silent. He simply stared at the rain of golden arrows filling the sky, at the white figure standing within the pillar of light. He thought of the Dust Release technique he had dedicated his life to mastering, and of that ultimate ninjutsu that could break matter down into atoms.

In retrospect, that was nothing more than a kindergarten trick.

At the moment the fifty-seventh arrow landed, Yi Shi caught the fletching of the arrow.

He gripped the light with his five fingers, and the golden lightning twisted wildly in his palm, like a snake being pinched at its vital point. The lightning exploded, leaving several charred burn marks on the web of his hand.

He glanced at it, then tightened his grip with all five fingers.

The light arrow shattered in his palm, turning into countless tiny specks of light that drifted into the air.

Sheng Ren stopped.

The wings of light were still burning, and the lightning was still flowing, but he did not shoot any more arrows. He stared at the burn mark on the tiger's mouth for two seconds.

"You will get hurt."

Yi Shi looked down at his hand, which was slowly healing.

"Flesh and blood wounds," he said, "are meaningless."

Sheng Ren nodded, as if agreeing with this assessment.

Then he released his grip on the lightning.

The electric arcs on the wings of light began to flow back, converging all of them towards his right arm to form a blade.

This time it wasn't a phantom blade formed from chakra; it was a physical entity.

The blade is entirely purplish-red, with a pale gold tinge at the edge, and fine lightning bolt patterns slowly flowing along its spine. It has no tsuba (guard), and the hilt is seamlessly integrated with the blade, as if it grew out of Shengren's arm.

Ichishi looked at the sword.

"What is this?"

"The Purple Lightning Yin Thunder Blade," Sheng Ren said, "you can name it whatever you want."

He paused.

"It should be able to cut through your black stone."

Yi Shi did not refute. He simply raised his hand and made a gesture in the air.

A thin crack appeared in the space, and a black rod fell from the crack.

One hand holds a black stick.

The two looked at each other.

This time, there was no probing.

Sheng Ren moved first. He took a step forward, becoming one with his blade, transforming into a streak of silver-white light, aiming straight for the throat. Before the blade even arrived, the wind from it had already carved a trench more than ten feet deep into the ground, and arcs of electricity still hissed at the edge of the trench.

A horizontal bar to block.

The instant the swords clashed, dozens of ninjas in the allied ranks simultaneously covered their ears, blood seeping from between their fingers. They heard no sound of impact, only a piercing, long buzzing sound, like ten thousand mosquitoes buzzing inside their skulls.

A blinding white light burst forth at the point of impact.

The white light dissipated, and Sheng Ren stood still, the blade pressed against the center of Yi Shi's staff. Yi Shi took a step back, his heel leaving a shallow trail on the ice.

This was the first time he had stepped back since he appeared.

He looked down at his penis, where a thin, hair-like crack had appeared.

"A nice knife," he said.

Sheng Ren did not answer. He drew his sword, turned to the side, and with a second slash, made a diagonal cut to his left rib.

Yi Shi sidestepped, the black staff tipping towards the side of the blade, attempting to deflect the attack. Sheng Ren flicked his wrist, the blade sliding along the black staff tip, tracing an arc in mid-air before slashing upwards towards Yi Shi's jaw.

He tilted his head back, and the blade grazed his chin, shaving off a few barely visible stubble strands of his beard.

Taking advantage of the moment when Sheng Ren's old strength was exhausted and his new strength had not yet been generated, he pressed down with the head of the black stick and stabbed Sheng Ren directly in the heart.

Sheng Ren didn't dodge. He sheathed his sword, sidestepped, and moved three inches away, the black club grazing his ribs as it pierced through empty air. In the same instant, he raised his left knee and slammed it into Yi Shi's lower abdomen.

The first move is a leg raise to block.

Knees collided with legs, producing a dull thud like a drumbeat. Sheng Ren used the recoil to leap back three zhang, landing on a broken hilt of a sword stuck diagonally in the ice. Yi Shi stood still, the hem of his robe lifted by the wind from the sword, slowly falling back down.

Neither of them moved again.

The battlefield was eerily quiet.

In the midst of the allied forces, someone's kunai slipped from their fingers and clattered onto the ice. The sound was crisp and piercing, like an autumn wind chime.

No one speaks.

Hiruzen Sarutobi's pipe had long since gone out, and ash covered him, but he was completely unaware. Onoki hovered in mid-air, his legs weak, only managing to stay upright thanks to the buoyancy of his Dust Release technique. Kakashi's left eye, through a gap in his headband, was fixed on the two figures in the center of the battlefield.

His Sharingan caught up. He could see the trajectory of every strike from Sheng Ren, the landing point of every black rod in every move, and the seventeen exchanges of offense and defense between the two in three seconds. He could even predict the angle from which the blade would strike next.

But he knew even better that if he were to go up there, he would die on the first blow.

Hashirama stood still, his hands already lowered. He looked at the furrow carved out by the lightning blade, at the crack on the black staff, and at the arc of electricity still slowly flowing along the spine of the Mori sword.

"spot."

"Um."

"We just fought him for fifteen minutes."

Ban did not answer.

The silence lasted a long time. So long that people on the edge of the battlefield began to sob softly, so long that the wind blew ice shards into the craters and then back out.

Ban finally spoke.

"...That's not ninjutsu."

His voice was so soft that only Hashirama could hear it.

"That's not ninjutsu," he repeated. "It's something else."

Hashirama didn't speak. He didn't need Madara to explain; he sensed it himself.

From beginning to end, Sheng Ren and Yi Shi's fight was entirely devoid of any ninjutsu. These Kage, these legends, these people who had stood at the pinnacle of the ninja world for decades, were nothing more than toddlers learning to walk before them.

Yishi lowered his head and looked at the crack on the black stick.

"You're definitely more troublesome than I thought," he said flatly, as if stating an unpleasant discovery. "This planet shouldn't have someone like you."

Sheng Ren didn't speak. He simply gripped the hilt of the knife tighter, and the electric arcs on the spine of the blade swirled even faster.

Yishi looked up at him.

"But that's not enough."

He loosened his grip on the black rod.

The jet-black rod did not fall; instead, it hovered beside him, slowly rotating.

The first posture involves bringing both hands together in front of the chest.

Have you ever seen a real celestial body?

He did not wait for Sheng Ren's reply.

"It's not a fake created by your ninjutsu; it's a real fragment of a star that has been floating in the universe for billions of years."

He paused.

"I'll show you."

He raised his right hand, palm up.

Above the battlefield, the clouds parted once more. This time, they weren't scattered by lightning, but torn apart from within by an even larger entity. The crack grew wider and wider, from a thin slit to a gaping abyss.

Something is falling from the abyss.

That was a mountain.

No, that's not a mountain, that's the remnant of a star!

It's too big.

It was so large that it blocked out half the sky, so large that the shadow it cast engulfed the entire battlefield, so large that no one could see its full size.

Within the allied forces, someone let out a short, sharp scream, as if someone had been choked.

Then everyone started running.

There was no difference between Jonin and Chunin, no difference between Kage and ordinary ninja. Everyone was running, running desperately, running in any direction that was not shrouded in shadow.

Because if that thing falls, no one can survive.

The Third Raikage stood still, not running. He looked up at the falling sky, his lightning chakra exploding wildly on his body, but he didn't run.

"Yugito," his voice was low, "you've been captured, and as the Raikage, I haven't been able to rescue you yet..."

He clenched his fists.

"I can't die here."

The Fourth Raikage, A, was enveloped in a surge of lightning, his legs slightly bent—

He was going to catch that meteorite alone.

A hand rested on his shoulder.

Ai turned around and saw Onoki's wrinkled face.

"Don't be foolish," Old Tu Ying's voice was hoarse, "you can't handle it."

Ai tried to break free from his grasp.

"We can't just stand there and wait to die!"

Onoki didn't let go. He looked up at the overwhelming shadow and suddenly smiled.

"I've lived for over seventy years," he said. "I've seen the landscape left by the First Hokage and Madara Uchiha during their battle at the Valley of the End, and I thought that was the limit for ninjas."

He paused.

"So that wasn't the limit, it was the starting point."

He released Ai's shoulders and began to form hand seals. The light of Dust Escape danced in his palms like a moth drawn to a flame.

"I'm an old man, and I'm still the Tsuchikage, after all."

Wu stood beside him. The Second Tsuchikage didn't speak, but simply raised his hand as well, the light of Dust Release shimmering in his palm and reflecting off his disciple.

The two generations of Earth Shadows, master and apprentice, stood back to back, facing the falling star, and simultaneously pushed their palms together.

"Dust Release: Particle Style - Detachment Technique!"

But it was too slow, and that thing was too big; even the Dust Escape technique couldn't budge its fur.

A beam of blue light shot out from another direction and struck the side of the star; it was Madara's Susanoo.

The light pierced the surface of the star, blasting open a crater a hundred feet in diameter. But it was still too small in the face of the colossal object that blotted out the sky.

Hashirama didn't make a move. He simply stood there, looking up at the falling shadow, his brow furrowed deeply. He knew better than anyone that Wood Release was useless against this.

He is waiting.

Waiting for Sheng Ren to draw his sword.

Sheng Ren looked up at the star.

He held the knife with both hands.

The knife is raised above the head, its tip pointing upwards.

Wings of light fully unfurled behind him, spanning over thirty zhang. Every feather was ablaze, burning into golden, white, and seven-colored flames. The flames flowed down his arm to the blade, and the silver-white blade began to emit a dazzling light.

That's not chakra.

That was everything he had accumulated over those five years through visualization, the network of faith, and the Ascension Sutra. It was the power of vows condensed by the day and night meditation of 30,000 people in Star Ninja Village, and the spiritual network woven by 500,000 believers in the Land of Bears.

He poured all of that into that one stab.

Yishi looked up at him.

Those eyes, which had remained emotionless until then, finally showed a flicker of emotion.

"...You're crazy."

Sheng Ren did not answer.

He swung his sword, slashing at the stars while simultaneously striking a powerful opponent.

The moment the blade fell, everyone on the battlefield heard a voice.

"Divine Art: Chaotic Divine Thunder!"