Naruto: I Can Reach the Full Level with One Click

"Yes… it's a corpse!"

Moonlight Hayate's eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Lying lifeless before him was the body of a Konoha shinobi, Kobayashi, his vacant gaze frozen in horror. There was no mistaking it—he was dead. Completely and utterly dead.

Hayate's legs trembled violently. A creeping heat spread down his thighs, soaking into his trousers, the unmistakable scent of urine seeping into the cold night air.

The surrounding Konoha shinobi instinctively recoiled, their faces twisting in disgust as they turned toward Hayate. Some looked away, unwilling to acknowledge the scene.

But no one could truly blame him.

This was Hayate's first time on a battlefield. Before this, he had only trained in controlled environments. His previous encounters—whether Qin Yu's intimidating display or the lurking terror in the shadows—were nothing compared to the grim reality before him.

Now, faced with a fresh corpse, the full weight of war crashed down on him.

At least he was still standing. Others might have collapsed in shock.

A sudden rustling filled the air. Dark silhouettes flickered in the trees, moving with practiced precision.

The shinobi of Kirigakure had arrived.

Upon learning of Kumogakure's failed assault, the Mist Village had wasted no time. Their forces had been mobilized swiftly, launching an immediate second-wave offensive.

To them, Konoha's ability to resist the first assault could mean only two things:

One, they had paid a steep price in casualties.

Two, they had an exceptionally strong shinobi holding the line.

However, when their scouts confirmed the departure of Konoha's feared Kiiroi Senkō—the Yellow Flash, Minato Namikaze—their strategy solidified.

The supposedly crucial stronghold was now defended by just over a dozen Konoha ninjas.

To the Mist shinobi, this was an open invitation.

From the start, their plan had been clear—a classic tiger luring the mountain tactic.

They had deliberately sent disposable foot soldiers as bait, drawing Minato away with a feigned threat.

Then, once the battlefield was left exposed, the real elite forces struck.

They had expected Minato to be cautious, perhaps difficult to lure away.

But seeing the current situation, their gamble had paid off beyond expectations.

If they could break through this stronghold, they could launch a full-scale attack deep into Konoha's rear lines.

If Konoha's defenses crumbled from within, it would throw their entire battlefront into chaos, disrupting the delicate balance of the Third Great Ninja War.

Most crucially, to ensure their success, Kirigakure had not sent just any shinobi.

While they lacked the overwhelming power of Kumogakure's legendary A and Killer Bee duo, their leaders were no less terrifying.

Two members of the infamous Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist had entered the battlefield.

Born from the brutal Blood Mist era, all seven wielders of Kirigakure's legendary swords were hardened killers, shaped by massacres and betrayal.

Against them, a mere twelve Konoha shinobi stood.

The outcome was all but decided.

"Stay alert!" Yue Yue Cangwu's voice rang out, urgent and grave. "This is no ordinary skirmish. The situation is critical!"

His face paled as he watched the two figures leading the charge.

"The Seven Ninja Swordsmen… Kurosuki Raiga, the Black Fang of the Mist."

"And… Wagarashi Kushimaru, the Demon of the Longsword."

The moment their names were spoken, an icy dread settled over the Konoha shinobi.

Behind them stood a unit of fifty elite Mist-nin, each one battle-hardened and disciplined.

The hulking figure of Kushimaru Wagarashi loomed over the battlefield. Standing over two meters tall, his physique was monstrous—broad, imposing, and covered in scars.

His infamous Nuibari, the Threading Needle sword, gleamed ominously under the moonlight.

In the Blood Mist Village, there were no weaklings. Every survivor of that brutal system had been forged in blood and deceit.

Betrayal was second nature. Mercy did not exist.

And then, there was Raiga.

Thin, wiry, draped in a tattered black cloak, his dark hair fell messily around his face. In both hands, he held twin swords crackling with electric energy—Kiba, the Lightning Blades.

Fresh blood dripped from their edges, a cruel testament to the scout he had just executed in silence.

The Konoha shinobi stood frozen in place.

A deep, twisted chuckle echoed across the field.

"Oh? What's this?" Raiga grinned wickedly, his sharp eyes scanning the group. "A bunch of pathetic little Konoha dogs. And look at that one…" His gaze settled on Hayate. "He pissed himself."

He burst into laughter, his sadistic amusement evident.

To the Seven Swordsmen, combat was a thrill—a game of slaughter, where the only rule was survival of the fittest.

"There's no challenge here," Raiga sneered, his grip tightening around Kiba.

Kushimaru exhaled slowly, surveying the scene with cold precision.

"Don't get too comfortable," he murmured.

"Namikaze Minato may return. The sooner we wipe them out, the better."

His fingers flexed over Nuibari, the long, needle-like blade glinting under the moonlight.

The execution was about to begin.