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The forest shook with the brutal symphony of battle. Every sound was amplified, a mix of clanging metal, searing flames, and the deafening boom of explosions, echoing through the trees as Haruto and Daichi fought desperately against the onslaught of Chiyo's puppets. Each puppet was a mechanical beast in its own right, moving with deadly precision, as if it had a mind of its own. Under Chiyo's expert control, they swarmed like a merciless army, their cold, unfeeling movements all the more terrifying in their silence.

Haruto threw a quick glance toward Daichi, catching sight of his friend's trembling hands as he clutched another handful of explosive tags. Exhaustion was etched deep into Daichi's face; every breath he took was labored, and every movement strained. They had been fighting for what felt like an eternity—minutes stretched and warped into hours as they struggled to withstand the relentless assault. Their stamina was slipping, worn thin under the weight of Chiyo's unyielding creations.

"Keep them back, Daichi!" Haruto's voice sliced through the chaos, sharp and commanding, infused with a mix of urgency and raw determination. Another wave of puppets moved toward them, their limbs clanking and mechanisms whirring, each movement calculated, efficient, and emotionless. Daichi managed a nod, summoning clones who sprang into action, leaping forward to shield them. Each clone tossed explosive tags with meticulous precision, each detonation sending ripples of heat and blinding flashes through the trees. For a moment, the puppets were forced to retreat, their movements disrupted as they circled around the explosions, assessing new angles of attack.

Then came the retaliation. Chiyo's Tenth Puppet lurched forward, its flamethrower roaring to life. It unleashed a torrent of fire, a wave of intense heat that forced Haruto and Daichi to dive to the side, barely escaping the blaze that scorched the ground beneath them. The earth blackened and cracked, the once-damp leaves curling into ash as the flames consumed everything in their path. Haruto and Daichi scrambled for cover, their bodies tense, hearts racing as the heat rolled over them like a living force.

Just a few feet away, another puppet hovered ominously—the Fourth Puppet, its torso emitting a dark, malevolent mist that coiled and twisted like a living shadow. The poison cloud was a silent, lethal threat, drifting closer with each passing second. Haruto felt his pulse spike as he watched it advance, fully aware that a single breath of that toxic cloud would be deadly. His eyes darted around the battlefield, searching for any advantage, any move they hadn't yet tried, but his options were dwindling, and Daichi's exhaustion was all too apparent. His friend's breathing had become ragged, his hands unsteady as he clung to the last of their explosive tags—a resource that was quickly running out.

Then, from the shadows, another puppet emerged—the Sixth Puppet. Sleek and sinister, it wielded twin spinning scythes, each blade slicing through the air with deadly speed. Haruto's instincts took over as the puppet hurtled toward him, its scythes spinning in lethal arcs. He sidestepped in the last possible second, feeling the gust of air as the blades barely missed him. With a surge of chakra, he vaulted high into the air, twisting mid-leap, his Thunder Scalpel materializing in his grip. With calculated precision, he plunged the scalpel into the puppet's torso, the blade crackling with energy as it sliced through the metal core. Sparks erupted in a small shower, fragments of metal scattering in all directions as the puppet convulsed, its movements jerking and stuttering. It sputtered in retreat, its mechanisms sparking erratically as it limped away, critically damaged.

"Seven left…" Haruto muttered under his breath, frustration lacing his tone, his jaw clenched as he took in the remaining puppets. Each one alone was formidable, crafted with meticulous detail to serve as a perfect killing machine. Together, they moved with unbreakable precision, each covering the weaknesses of the others, forming a wall of lethal, unrelenting force.

He cast a quick glance at Daichi and saw his friend's fingers fumbling as he reached for the last few explosive tags in his pouch. They were running out—running dangerously low. Haruto knew that without those tags, they would be exposed, defenseless against the calculated brutality of Chiyo's creations.

"Daichi, we're almost out," Haruto murmured, his voice barely a thread over the clash of metal and explosive detonations echoing through the forest. His words seemed to dissolve into the chaos as quickly as he spoke them. His mind churned with strategies, evaluating and discarding them in rapid succession, each feeling as fragile as paper against Chiyo's relentless assault.

Across the battlefield, Chiyo remained unnervingly composed, her expression unreadable yet cold. Her gaze tracked their every movement with a calculating patience, dissecting their defenses as though she were piecing together an intricate puzzle. It felt as if she were waiting—watching them unravel under the pressure, confident that they'd soon reach their breaking point.

Frustration surged within Haruto, brushing dangerously close to panic. He scanned the clearing, taking in their surroundings. The forest that once felt like an ally now felt oppressive, the towering trees offering no refuge from the relentless assault of Chiyo's puppets. His gaze shifted to Daichi, whose face was pale and drawn with exhaustion, hands shaking as he struggled to secure their last few explosive tags. They were out of resources, and their backs were against the wall. A cold certainty sank into Haruto's chest—they were cornered, with nothing left to shield them from Chiyo's mechanical onslaught.

Every challenge he'd faced in his training, every test of endurance, every limit he'd pushed seemed insignificant in the face of this foe. His body had been conditioned to withstand pain, to defy exhaustion, to face down stronger opponents—but nothing had prepared him for this. Not for the relentless skill of an opponent who seemed to control every facet of their battle.

And then, in a single sharp moment, a forbidden possibility flickered into his mind: the Eight Inner Gates.

This was no simple power boost. The Eight Gates were a forbidden technique, an extreme measure that unleashed immense power by overriding the body's natural restraints on chakra, temporarily drawing on reserves that were otherwise untouchable. He had trained with the Gates in a controlled setting, aware of their devastating effects, and had always intended to save this option until his body was fully developed, perhaps until he was older. But as he felt his own endurance slipping, and saw Daichi's strength begin to flag, he recognized with clear, unshakable certainty that now was the time.

With a steadying breath, Haruto let the decision settle within him. His body would shoulder the toll. It was a risk he'd have to accept, if only to give them a chance. He braced himself, feeling the weight of his resolve harden in his chest, and with that decision, he began to unlock the Gates, preparing himself for the surge of power—and the consequences—that would follow.

The forest, scarred and broken, lay like the aftermath of a forgotten war. The air was thick with the acrid scent of scorched earth, and smoke clung to the ground in ghostly tendrils, wrapping around shattered tree trunks and jagged craters that punctuated the battlefield. Haruto and Daichi stood silhouetted amidst the wreckage, their figures flickering in the dying glow of smoldering fires, each breath they took stirring faint wisps of ash and dust. Every step crunched against splinters of wood and scorched earth, the ground beneath them unstable, pitted by explosions.

On the far side of the field, Chiyo's gaze honed in on Haruto, her eyes sharpening as she noticed something within him shift. A faint, knowing smirk touched her lips as she sensed the subtle, rising tension in the air.

"Interesting…" she murmured, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of battle. Her fingers twitched in a delicate rhythm, as if she were savoring the moment. "Let's see what he's truly capable of." Memories surfaced, flickering at the edges of her mind—memories of her son and daughter-in-law, both of whom had failed to eliminate these very children. Both had fallen to Sakumo and a mere genin. The bitterness surged in her chest, reigniting her focus with an edge of vengeance. Today, they would not slip through her fingers.

Haruto caught Daichi's eye, and with a practiced set of hand signals, they formed a silent strategy. Daichi understood instantly, adjusting his stance and carefully allowing the Fourth Puppet to drift closer, his face composed, his movements controlled as he feigned distraction. Haruto drew a steadying breath, feeling his chakra pool and build, reaching deep into reserves he'd honed over years of training, calling on something he had yet to fully unleash.

The Gate of Opening—the first of the Eight Gates—broke open like a flood, releasing a torrent of energy that coursed through his body. Haruto felt his muscles fill with a raw, electric strength, his fatigue melting away as his body surged with newfound power. His limbs felt weightless, his movements smooth and unrestrained, his focus razor-sharp as his mind and body aligned in perfect synchronization.

Then, with a forceful mental command, he released the Gate of Healing. A second surge pulsed through him, renewing his stamina with an intensity that felt almost primal. He felt his muscles pulse with life, micro-tears and battle strain healing in real-time, his endurance rekindled. Each step he took was steady, his movements brimming with an almost unearthly energy, as if he were untethered from his former limitations.

The Gate of Life followed, igniting him from the inside out. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each beat faster and fiercer, filling his veins with a blazing warmth that heightened his senses to an almost painful clarity. The world around him seemed to slow, each flicker of movement within the battle's chaos sharp and vivid, every detail etched into his mind. His gaze zeroed in on the Fourth Puppet, his focus so absolute that everything else faded away. This puppet was his target, and he would dismantle it with no hesitation.

Chiyo's eyes narrowed as she registered the sudden, seismic shift in Haruto's chakra. A faint glimmer of interest sparked in her gaze, her expression turning almost predatory. "So, you're not just another child after all," she murmured, a trace of intrigue coloring her tone as she deftly manipulated the Fourth Puppet, urging it forward. The mist within it coiled and writhed, ready to spew forth its lethal cloud of poison at her command.

But Haruto was done waiting. With a final, fierce surge of willpower, he opened the Gate of Pain. The raw, searing power that flooded his body was almost overwhelming, his muscles screaming under the intense pressure as his strength and speed amplified to incredible levels. His veins pulsed with chakra, his entire being lit up from within as he became a vessel of pure, unrestrained energy. He felt the strain, the brutal cost of such power, but he accepted it, channeled it, let it drive him forward.

In an instant, Haruto was in motion—a blur of chakra-infused speed and purpose. He closed the distance between himself and the Fourth Puppet in a heartbeat, his movements faster than Chiyo could track. He reached the puppet with a single, powerful leap, his fist arcing down with unstoppable momentum. Chakra spiraled around his knuckles, compressing into a brutal punch that struck with the force of a hammer. The puppet's metal shell crumpled, its poison canisters shattering with a sickening crunch. Dark mist dissipated into the air, rendered harmless as the puppet collapsed in a heap, broken beyond repair.

Yet he wasn't finished. Haruto's hand closed around the remains of the puppet, his grip unyielding as he spun, building momentum in a deadly, fluid motion. With a fierce shout, he unleashed the Reverse Lotus, slamming the puppet's remains into the ground with a force that shattered it into fragments. The twisted metal and broken mechanisms scattered across the battlefield like ashes, the Fourth Puppet utterly destroyed.

Across the clearing, Chiyo's composed facade fractured, her eyes widening ever so slightly—a flicker of surprise breaking through her practiced calm. This was no mere genin standing before her; Haruto's power was raw, untamed, a force she had not anticipated.

Haruto straightened, his breath labored, each inhale a strain as the toll of the opened gates pressed heavily upon him. His muscles ached, protesting the overwhelming release of energy, but his resolve had only solidified. Six puppets remained, each one a meticulously crafted weapon under Chiyo's control. He glanced at Daichi, whose gaze reflected a mix of awe and determination, the fires of battle still burning in his eyes.

The weight of the Gates bore down on him, but Haruto steadied himself, his resolve unwavering as he fixed his focus on the remaining puppets. The battle was far from over, and he was ready to see it through—no matter the cost.