Chapter 51 - 51: Zeldris vs Sasori's New Invention
The night vanished like a ninja in a smoke bomb.
By sunrise, Zeldris was dragged out of unconsciousness by the aggressive clanking of metal and something that suspiciously sounded like manic giggling.
Still half-asleep, hair a mess and one eye open, he stumbled toward the noise like a zombie in slippers.
He froze.
Right there, lit by the early morning glow, stood two pitch-black puppets. Sleek. Mean-looking. Sharp enough to give a shadow nightmares.
And in front of them?
Sasori—grinning like a kid who just found explosives under the Christmas tree.
"Did you sleep?" Zeldris asked, rubbing his temples.
"Nope!" Sasori chirped, far too energetic for someone who hadn't blinked in nine hours.
"Pulled an all-nighter. Based on that 'Divine Machine' you handed me, I whipped these up."
Zeldris blinked.
Then blinked again.
"...Damn," he muttered, walking closer.
"These look like they could commit war crimes."
The puppets stood motionless but radiated menace. Their pitch-black armor shimmered faintly, like obsidian dipped in bad intentions.
"Sand-iron plating," Sasori said proudly, patting one like a beloved dog.
"Infused with the Third Kazekage's Magnetic Release. Oh, and guess what?"
Zeldris raised an eyebrow. "They make coffee?"
"They absorb chakra."
Zeldris actually paused. "...You're kidding."
"Only a partial drain," Sasori admitted, scratching his head.
"Still needs tweaking. But for one night? Not bad, right?"
Before Zeldris could answer, both puppets suddenly moved—springing to life without warning.
Zeldris squinted.
"...No chakra threads?"
Sasori smirked like a man with secrets and several patents pending. "Exactly. Remote autonomous sync system."
"In plain words?"
"They're not tied to me. Which means no obvious target for people to smash when they get cranky."
Zeldris let out a low whistle. "You finally fixed the biggest puppet weakness: 'puppet master gets yeeted.'"
"Yep. Once I perfect them, we can mass-produce. Imagine it—an army of silent killers. No chakra needed. Fully loyal."
Zeldris grinned. "I'd settle for one that can do taxes and shut up."
Sasori blinked. "...What?"
"Never mind."
He stepped back, admiring the craftsmanship one last time. "Alright. Let's take 'em for a test run."
Sasori's grin instantly dropped. "Wait—you wanna spar with them?"
Zeldris was already walking outside. "I'll go easy."
"That's what you said last time, and I had to pick up my left arm from a tree."
—
A short while later, the two stood in the open desert. The horizon blazed orange, casting long shadows that stretched like battle flags across the sand.
Zeldris rolled his shoulders lazily, posture loose. Sasori, meanwhile, stood still, but his expression betrayed a flicker of concern.
Sparring with Zeldris wasn't a game.
It was a calculated risk with health insurance consequences.
"Ready?" Zeldris asked, his tone calm—too calm.
Then his eyes changed.
A strange, glowing violet pulsed through his gaze like a ripple through still water.
Sasori blinked.
Have his eyes always done that?! When did he unlock 'intimidation mode'?!
He refocused, pushing the thought aside. No time for internal crises.
With a flick of his fingers, the puppets shot forward, faster than any of his past creations.
Blades whirled, joints snapped, and the sand practically hissed under the force of their movement.
Zeldris didn't flinch.
In fact, he looked... mildly interested.
The puppets unleashed a flurry—jabs, slashes, crushing punches. For anyone else, it would've been checkmate in five seconds.
Zeldris, however, moved like water through a sieve—evasive, effortless, and slightly annoying to watch.
Then it happened.
Both puppets paused mid-attack—and started weaving hand signs.
Sasori grinned. Let's see him dodge this.
A violent spiral of sand-iron erupted from their chests, engulfing Zeldris in a storm of blackened metal.
The desert went silent.
Sasori squinted. Got him?
Then—CRACK!
A pulse of white energy burst from the center of the storm. The sand-iron shattered like brittle glass, scattering into the wind.
Zeldris emerged, fists glowing, coat barely dusted.
The puppets? Smashed back twenty feet like they'd just insulted his haircut.
Sasori audibly groaned. "I just made those..."
Zeldris appeared in front of him in a blink, brushing sand off his shoulder.
"I'll admit," he said, completely calm, "breaking out of that wasn't instant."
"That's high praise coming from the guy who bench-presses mountains," Sasori grumbled.
Zeldris smirked. "Exactly. Means your toys are evolving."
Sasori stared at the scattered pieces.
"Evolving into scrap, yeah."
Zeldris clapped him on the back. "Cheer up. Now you know what they can almost survive."
"I also know what I'll be doing tonight," Sasori muttered.
"Oh please," Zeldris said, grinning. "Don't pretend you're not already designing Version 2.0 in your head."
"...I am," Sasori admitted, sighing deeply.
Zeldris chuckled, walking off toward the hideout as the wind kicked up around them.
"Hey Sasori."
"...Yeah?"
"Next time, make one that sings."
Sasori didn't reply.
But later that night?
He did write it down.
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