The low hum of chakra dissipated into silence as the final pulse from Iwami’s gauntlet flickered out, leaving behind a trio of foreign shinobi frozen mid-step—now solid stone. Their contorted expressions were trapped in time, mouths agape, hands half-formed into seals that would never complete. Dust settled gently in the office courtyard as the Tsuchikage, calm and resolute, lowered her arm.
Clad in crimson and gold, her cloak billowed with the sharp gust that followed her command. She turned to the Iwagakure shinobi now standing at attention, her voice clipped and commanding.
“Secure these three. I want them sealed and stored in the lower vault beneath the office until we can properly interrogate them. Do not chip the stone. I need them intact.”
Her lone eye scanned the petrified intruders with cold scrutiny, then shifted upward toward the smog-hazed peaks of the Hidden Stone. Iwami's gauntlet still pulsed faintly—warm from its use, ready to be activated again if necessary. She didn’t look back as she added:
“And double the patrols at the southern gate. If these scouts made it this far, they weren’t the only ones sent.”
Without another word, the Tsuchikage turned and strode back into her office, the stone echo of her steps as heavy as her resolve.