UCHIHA KING OF THE SOULS

With the combined strength of Minato Namikaze, his elite squad, and the Konoha forces, as long as they remained vigilant, even though their middle-rank genin couldn't effortlessly cut through the Iwa-nin like slicing melons and vegetables, there was no immediate danger.

Under Minato's command, Konoha's veteran shinobi and reinforcements from the northwest managed to halt the advancing Iwa-nin, preventing them from gaining further ground.

Once Konoha's forces from other directions arrived, the fate of the Iwa forces was sealed—total annihilation was inevitable.

However, the Iwa-nin were known for their tenacity. Even when faced with certain death, very few surrendered.

Loyalty to Iwagakure was ingrained in them. The alternative—captivity—was a fate worse than death. Those who surrendered would face disgrace, and their families back home would suffer humiliation.

After nearly two grueling hours of battle, at precisely five o'clock in the afternoon, the Iwa forces were finally crushed by Konoha's relentless assault.

Aside from a handful of captives, the battlefield was littered with corpses—over 1,300 in total. The land was scorched, the air thick with the stench of blood and lingering smoke from explosive tags. Birds of prey circled overhead, drawn by the carnage, while an eerie silence settled over the devastated terrain.

Despite their victory, Konoha's casualties were significant. More than 500 genin had perished.

Iwa's genin were not of particularly high caliber, but neither were Konoha's, as many were quickly trained during wartime, lacking the refined skills of those nurtured in peacetime.

The truly elite genin of Konoha, those groomed through rigorous training, had largely survived.

By the early years of the Third Shinobi War, most genin who had endured had already ascended to chūnin or even tokubetsu jōnin.

These individuals, tempered by conflict, were the battle-hardened elites of their generation—though their numbers remained scarce.

Despite the victory, there was little celebration. Konoha's shinobi silently set about clearing the battlefield, disposing of bodies, and tending to the wounded.

The loss of comrades weighed heavily, but even more than that, years of war had dulled their emotions. Victory no longer brought elation, only exhaustion.

Perhaps true joy would only return once the war was over.

Though missions in peacetime carried risks, they were nothing compared to the horrors of the battlefield.

After completing the grim task of cleaning the battlefield, weary shinobi returned to camp. Those with duties continued their work, while others took much-needed rest.

Among them, Uchiha Gen had no such luxury. As a member of Minato's personally led Seventh Squad, and with Minato being a leader who never sought special privileges, the workload on them remained heavy.

Two days later, Minato received orders from the Third Hokage to lead the remaining Konoha forces to the battlefront in the Land of Grass, where Konoha clashed fiercely with Iwagakure's troops.

Meanwhile, in the Tsuchikage's office within Iwagakure, the aging but formidable Ōnoki received word of the complete obliteration of Iwa's forces deep in the Land of Fire.

Though he had suspected this outcome ever since Kannabi Bridge was destroyed by Konoha, hearing the final confirmation left him slumping into his chair in defeat.

Once again, he was left grappling with a maddening question—why did Konoha always seem to produce unparalleled shinobi? Why, in every crisis, did they always have someone who could turn the tide?

During the Warring States Era, the world had been dominated by Senju Hashirama and Uchiha Madara.

In the First Shinobi War, even after the death of the Second Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen and his comrades stabilized Konoha's position.

During the Second Shinobi War, Konoha had produced legends—Konoha's White Fang and the Sannin—allowing them to emerge relatively unscathed.

Now, in the Third Shinobi War, yet another prodigy had risen—Namikaze Minato. It was infuriating!

This was the first time since the Five Great Villages were established that Konoha had been pushed to the brink, with all four major villages invading the Land of Fire's heartland. Yet, they still failed.

If they let this opportunity slip away, who knew when another would arise?

Was Konoha truly destined to reign supreme?

No—he refused to believe it!

Ōnoki shook off the dangerous thoughts creeping into his mind. Losing confidence meant allowing Iwagakure to remain forever in Konoha's shadow.

He wouldn't accept that.

"Summon the elders for a meeting," he ordered.

"Yes, Lord Tsuchikage."

Fifteen minutes later, in the grand council chamber, Ōnoki sat with his elders, the air thick with tension.

"First, let me acknowledge my failure," he began. "Iwagakure placed its bet and lost. The responsibility falls on me."

He floated slightly above his seat, bowing his head in acknowledgment.

"No, Tsuchikage-sama, this was a collective decision. The burden is not yours alone," his most trusted elder quickly interjected.

The other senior council members echoed similar sentiments. They understood the value of shared responsibility—it meant no single individual could be blamed.

Since challenging Ōnoki's authority was out of the question, there was little use in pointing fingers.

"Our offensive has failed, and the war in the Land of Grass remains at a standstill. I hesitate to say this, but Iwagakure has lost its best chance to defeat Konoha."

Ōnoki's voice was grave.

"For this reason, I intend to send an envoy to negotiate peace and bring the war to a temporary halt."

"Lord Tsuchikage, should we not hold out a bit longer? If Konoha suffers losses on another front—" one elder ventured hesitantly.

"Indecisiveness leads only to greater losses," Ōnoki cut him off.

"A half-hearted war gains us nothing, just as an insincere peace would be meaningless. What benefit is there in delay except further depletion of our forces?"

"Besides, wouldn't preserving strength through negotiations be the smarter move?"

The elder hesitated, then suddenly realized Ōnoki's intent—this wasn't a surrender. It was a calculated pause.

Ah, as expected of Tsuchikage-sama… He's already planning his next move.

"I see… You are absolutely right, Lord Tsuchikage."

"What about Sunagakure?" another elder asked. "We agreed to coordinate our attacks."

Ōnoki scoffed.

"A verbal agreement means little. If it were worth anything, we wouldn't need to station forces along our border with them."

"A weak Sunagakure is in our best interest."

"That is why the peace talks must remain secretive. As long as we do not suffer major concessions, we will accept Konoha's terms. Konoha, under immense pressure, will not ask for much."

"We must end negotiations swiftly so that Konoha can focus on Sunagakure. With Konoha pressuring them, Sunagakure will be further weakened, serving our long-term interests."

The elders nodded in realization.

Thus, before Minato could even lead reinforcements into battle, Iwagakure's envoys had already infiltrated Konoha's camp.

Word of Iwagakure's request for peace swiftly reached Sarutobi Hiruzen's desk.

Recognizing that this could be the turning point of the war, Hiruzen wasted no time.

With Iwagakure withdrawing, Konoha could focus its forces on crushing Sunagakure.

After Sunagakure fell, they could turn to Kumogakure.

And finally, Kirigakure.

With that, the Third Shinobi War would end, and Konoha would once again rise unchallenged.

With negotiations left in the hands of Jiraiya and Minato, the treaty was finalized swiftly.

As Iwagakure retreated, Konoha wasted no time—before Sunagakure could react, they struck at its frontline base in the Land of Rain and the Land of Rivers…