Chapter 17 - 17: He is a Monster
Zeldris's voice drifted through the wind—soft, cold, and final.
And somehow, that made it worse.
The remaining ANBU—what few were still standing—felt their knees go weak. Not from the heat, not from injury. Just... fear. Pure, suffocating fear. The kind that got into your bones and whispered: You are not surviving this.
None of them moved.
None of them could.
Because right now?
Zeldris wasn't a shinobi.
He wasn't even a person.
He was a walking apocalypse in black boots.
No chakra flares. No hand signs. No theatrics.
Just quiet menace, a crimson gaze, and power that made their own jutsu look like party tricks.
Someone muttered under their breath. "He's a monster."
"No," another whispered, swallowing hard. "Worse."
He wasn't a force of nature.
Nature made sense.
Zeldris didn't.
The mission had been clear. Clean. Efficient.
"Terminate Zeldris. Neutralize Sasori. Secure the Kazekage's remains."
Well.
One out of three wasn't bad, right?
The Kazekage was very much dead.
And so were they.
They just hadn't caught up to that fact yet.
The only thing louder than their ragged breathing was the silence between Zeldris's steps.
Then, that light returned.
Blinding. White-hot. A swirling orb of raw annihilation glowing in his hand like it was nothing.
"Oh no," someone choked out. "Not again."
Zeldris didn't say a word. His expression didn't change. No threat. No warning.
Just that subtle smile. The kind people usually reserve for sunsets or wine.
Then—
CRACK.
The air fractured.
That now-familiar sound of shattering glass rang out, and just like that, they knew it was over.
The glowing orb pulsed once.
Then it launched.
BOOM—
The world screamed.
The orb exploded through the battlefield like a comet, tearing through space itself, carving a trench deep into the earth. The sand didn't even burn—it just vanished, erased by raw force.
The ANBU didn't scream.
They didn't run.
They didn't get the chance.
One second they were there.
The next?
Gone.
Ashes in the wind.
The earth groaned. Smoke rose. Silence returned.
But the orb didn't stop.
Far ahead, the temporary captain—coward, liar, Olympic-level sprinter—heard the explosion behind him and allowed himself a smug, relieved grin.
"Suckers."
He kept running. Kept breathing. Kept living.
Then the wind changed.
And he felt it.
A pressure behind him. A heat.
A presence.
He risked a glance over his shoulder.
And saw it.
The orb.
Still coming.
"...No. No, no, NO—"
He pushed his body harder. His lungs were fire. His legs were jelly. His pride was long gone.
But it didn't matter.
Because the orb didn't care.
It caught him mid-stride.
GAAAHHH—!
The sky lit up.
The air cracked.
His scream was swallowed by the blast as his body was flung into the atmosphere like a meat piñata. Limbs snapped. Bones shattered. Blood sprayed in a grotesque, artful arc.
And then—
silence.
Not even his regrets survived.
Back at the cratered battlefield, Zeldris stood perfectly still, eyes locked on the horizon.
After a few seconds, he turned away.
"It's done," he said simply.
Sasori, still seated nearby like this was some kind of avant-garde picnic, opened his eyes.
His heartbeat was fast—but not from fear.
From excitement.
From admiration.
This wasn't destruction.
This was expression.
This was art.
Sasori looked down at the Third Kazekage's charred, crumpled body. Then back at Zeldris, who hadn't even broken a sweat.
"...So," Sasori said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, "you're from Konoha?"
Zeldris gave a small nod.
"I was."
Sasori raised an eyebrow. "Was?"
Zeldris paused, then said quietly, "Not anymore."
Sasori's grin widened.
He hoisted the Kazekage's corpse over his shoulder like luggage.
"Well," he chuckled, "never thought I'd see the day Konoha produced something scarier than me."
He started walking.
Then glanced back. "So tell me—why'd they send an entire hit squad after you?"
Zeldris didn't answer.
He just kept walking.
Sasori followed with a shrug.
"I'll take that as a long story."
They disappeared into the dunes, two ghosts drifting into the horizon.
But the silence they left behind?
It wasn't peace.
It was the kind that comes before the war.
And as Sasori glanced one last time at the burning sky behind them, a thought crossed his mind:
Konoha has no idea what's coming.
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