reborn as Sakumo Hatake

The blast of chakra was unlike anything Sakumo had ever encountered before. The very air seemed to buckle under its force, sending ripples through the earth as if the world itself were shaking in fear. Sakumo's senses screamed as the power radiating from the masked figure engulfed the battlefield. It wasn't just the force of the blast—it was the unnatural coldness that accompanied it, a suffocating energy that threatened to freeze everything in its path.

Kakashi was the first to react, his Sharingan flaring to life as he used his heightened perception to analyze the situation. Sakumo could feel his son's chakra pulsing with urgency as he rapidly calculated their options.

"We need to move!" Kakashi shouted, but his voice barely reached Sakumo's ears over the deafening roar of energy.

Sakumo didn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he pulled Kakashi back, diving to the side just as the shockwave surged forward. The ground cracked beneath their feet, sending debris flying into the air. Sakumo's instincts had saved them this time—but barely.

The reinforcements that had arrived earlier were less fortunate. Several were thrown back by the blast, some of them barely managing to stay on their feet as the shockwave knocked them off balance. The others took defensive stances, forming protective barriers with their chakra, but it was clear that they were struggling to maintain their ground against the overwhelming force of the masked figure's power.

"Damn it!" Sakumo muttered, his breath ragged. This wasn't a normal jutsu. The sheer magnitude of the chakra was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. The masked figure wasn't just powerful—they were something else entirely.

As the dust began to settle, the figure stood unmoving in the center of the destruction, the sickly glow of their chakra fading only slightly. Their mask, though cracked, remained intact, and their eyes gleamed with an unsettling malevolence.

"You're too late," the figure whispered, their voice low and cold. "The ritual has already begun. There is no turning back now."

Sakumo's heart skipped a beat. Ritual? What ritual?

He exchanged a glance with Kakashi, who was breathing heavily but standing firm. His Sharingan flickered, no doubt searching for an opening, analyzing every move the masked figure made. But Sakumo knew that even with his son's exceptional ability, this wasn't going to be an easy fight.

"What do you mean, ritual?" Sakumo demanded, his voice steady despite the underlying fear.

The masked figure tilted their head slightly, as if amused by Sakumo's ignorance. "The ritual that will bring about the end of the shinobi system. The end of this broken world. All of you—your village, your system of power, your pathetic little lives—are nothing more than stepping stones to something greater."

Sakumo's eyes narrowed. The world was already on the brink of collapse, and now this mysterious figure was promising to finish what the others had started? He couldn't let that happen. They couldn't afford to let it happen.

"You're wrong," Sakumo said, his voice resolute. "The world you want to create isn't better. It's just chaos, destruction, and more suffering. We won't let you bring that here."

The masked figure's laugh was cold, empty. "You still don't understand. It's not about what you want. This is fate, Hatake. The shinobi world has already passed its expiration date. There is no stopping what has already begun."

Sakumo gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles white. The time for words was over. They had to act.

Kakashi stepped forward, his gaze never leaving the masked figure. "We'll stop you," he said, his voice steady, his resolve unshaken. "No matter what it takes."

The masked figure didn't respond immediately. Instead, they raised their hand, and the air seemed to pulse with a dark, swirling energy. Sakumo could feel the temperature drop as the chakra twisted and coiled around the figure like a serpent, ready to strike.

"This is where you fall, Hatake," the masked figure said ominously. "I've waited too long for this moment."

Before Sakumo or Kakashi could react, the masked figure's chakra exploded outward, enveloping the battlefield in an unholy wave of energy. The ground shook violently as the air itself seemed to distort, swirling around them like a vortex of malevolent power.

Kakashi was the first to move, his Sharingan glowing brighter as he dodged a lethal burst of energy that shot toward them. He countered with a series of kunai, aiming for the masked figure's vital points, but the figure's movements were unnaturally quick, evading each strike with ease.

Sakumo followed suit, launching himself into the fray with his sword drawn. His movements were fluid, each strike aimed to incapacitate, not to kill. He didn't want to end this with a death, but he knew he might not have a choice. The masked figure's aura was too overwhelming to take lightly.

But despite their combined efforts, the masked figure seemed untouchable. Every time Sakumo or Kakashi made a move, the figure countered with an equally devastating attack. The energy radiating from the masked figure was like an impenetrable shield, repelling everything they threw at it.

"This is futile," the masked figure taunted. "You can't defeat me. This power is beyond your understanding."

Sakumo's frustration was growing, but he refused to give up. Kakashi was already adjusting his strategy, no longer just reacting, but trying to predict the masked figure's movements. Their opponents were in sync—each step an echo of the other, like father and son.

"Don't be so sure of that," Sakumo said, determination in his eyes. He could see Kakashi's resolve hardening as well. They weren't giving up. They couldn't.

In the distance, Sakumo's sensei and the other reinforcements had recovered, though they were still struggling against the masked figure's power. The ground beneath them was cracked and jagged, a reminder of the sheer magnitude of the chakra that had been unleashed. But despite the odds, they were closing in, preparing to launch a counteroffensive.

Sakumo took a deep breath. It was time to end this.

"Together," Sakumo said, his voice low, but filled with unshakable certainty. "We can do this."

Kakashi nodded without a word, his Sharingan now fully activated, his body in perfect sync with his father's. In that moment, they were more than just father and son. They were a team—a unit that could not be broken.

Sakumo rushed forward, his sword raised high, his chakra surging as he focused on the masked figure. Kakashi followed suit, unleashing a barrage of lightning-infused kunai with deadly precision. The two of them fought as one, each move a perfect complement to the other.

The masked figure's expression twisted into a snarl as they tried to keep up with the onslaught. For the first time, they were starting to falter, their once-imposing chakra beginning to waver. They couldn't keep up with the relentless assault of father and son working in perfect unison.

And just as the masked figure began to stagger back, Sakumo saw it—the opening he had been waiting for. With one final, powerful strike, he aimed his sword directly at the figure's heart. The energy around the masked figure faltered, and in that instant, Sakumo's blade connected.

The masked figure let out a gasp, the dark energy surrounding them dissipating in a violent burst. Their body crumpled to the ground, the twisted mask falling away to reveal the face beneath.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the battlefield fell silent.