"Huh? Gramps, we're not fighting anymore?"
Kurotsuchi blinked at Ōnoki, her face blank with confusion.
Ōnoki snorted. "We're done fighting!"
Fight? With what? You think you can win?
"Okay then! Hehehe!" Kurotsuchi giggled, then suddenly shouted,
"Then I'm going to find Deidara-nii!"
"You little brat! You are not going anywhere near that fool!"
Ōnoki's beard practically flew off as he bellowed, furious that his granddaughter still wanted to see that no-good disciple of his.
"Come back here! Come back!"
But by then, Kurotsuchi had already darted off like a puff of smoke, heading straight toward Deidara's direction.
"Damn that old Ōnoki!"
The elder of the Hidden Mist, Master Genji—who usually needed a cane just to stand—suddenly jumped to his feet. His frail figure was gone, replaced by a warrior about to march into his final battle.
"All Mist-nin, heed my command!"
The atmosphere grew solemn and heavy; his voice stirred the hearts of the Mist shinobi around him. They stood ready, prepared to die if they must.
And then—
"I, as the elder of the Hidden Mist, declare—we surrender!"
The Allied Shinobi Forces: ???
"Ōnoki?! Genji?! You cowardly, spineless old men!"
The commander of the Hidden Cloud contingent roared in rage. He was the last of the Allied Commanders still holding the line.
Three Great Nations:
One surrendered, one defected—only the Cloud shinobi were still fighting to the bitter end.
"Cloud shinobi! Fight to the death! We will never surrender!"
But no matter how bravely they resisted, the outcome was already decided.
The front lines collapsed, the rear ranks followed soon after. One by one, the shinobi of the Allied Forces scattered in all directions.
The battle was lost.
The Allied Shinobi Forces were defeated.
Meanwhile, in the Land of Frost—
At a heavily guarded, secret stronghold where the lords and nobles of the ninja world had gathered, a lavish victory feast was already underway.
From their lofty view, how could anyone possibly stand against an army of hundreds of thousands of shinobi?
Even the legendary Third Raikage, they reasoned, had been killed by ten thousand Iwa-nin.
How strong could this so-called "Akatsuki" truly be?
A few years old, no real history—self-proclaimed gods?
Please. Even if a real god descended upon this world, they would have him cut down and his ashes scattered.
A celebration feast before victory?
Perfectly reasonable—at least, to those who had never known what true power looked like.
But as they toasted and laughed, they didn't realize—
their impregnable fortress, this hidden haven they thought no one could find—
had already been infiltrated by silent shadows.
A squad of black-clad shinobi, faces hidden behind animal masks, slipped in without a sound.
"The shinobi world does not need privilege."
"The shinobi world does not need nobility."
Their leader spoke softly, standing amidst a field of slain samurai.
He raised his right hand and gave a single, cold command:
"Kill them all."
In an instant—steel flashed.
The nobles, once untouchable and arrogant, treating human lives like dust,
were cut down mercilessly—just like the countless victims of their greed.
At the same time, in Amegakure.
"Come out. Your chakra signatures stand out like flames in the dark,"
Nagato said coolly, standing atop one of the metallic, rain-slick towers that defined the industrial skyline of the Hidden Rain.
The Six Paths of Pain stood silently behind him.
"Nagato!"
Space rippled—and three figures emerged before him:
Madara Uchiha, Black Zetsu, and Obito.
"Well, if it isn't Madara himself," Nagato said flatly, his eyes drifting over to Obito. "What brings you here?"
When Obito had first approached Nagato years ago, he had done so under the name of Uchiha Madara—and Nagato had believed him.
Madara stepped forward, his tone calm and absolute.
"He merely borrowed my name. I am the real Uchiha Madara."
With that, the elder warrior tore away the human-skin mask on his face, revealing his true form—
red armor gleaming once more, the aura of a war god reborn.
He had no reason to hide anymore.
If Obito hadn't been so weak, he never would have resorted to this shadow play in the first place.
Dominating the ninja world outright—that was Madara's way.
"It doesn't matter who the real Madara is," Nagato replied evenly. His tone remained calm, unshaken.
"If you have nothing else to say, leave. I have a war to finish."
By "war," of course, he meant the final blow to the Allied Shinobi Forces.
"Oh, I do have something to say."
Madara clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze locking with Nagato's.
"You have something that belongs to me."
Nagato's voice stayed cold. "Something that belongs to you?"
Madara pointed at his own eyes.
"Those. Your eyes."
"You mean my Rinnegan?" For the first time, Nagato's composure shifted. He turned slowly to face Madara fully.
"So, your goal is my Rinnegan?"
"To be precise," Madara said, his own eyes gleaming,
"they are my Rinnegan."
The two stared each other down, their combined pressure crackling through the air like thunder.
Madara continued, his tone almost like that of a teacher addressing a pupil:
"The Sharingan is a bloodline limit capable of evolution—
a power with infinite potential.
When it evolves from three tomoe to the Mangekyō Sharingan, it undergoes a quantum leap.
Each Mangekyō gains its own unique abilities.
But the Mangekyō's power comes at a cost—
use it too often, and your vision fades into darkness.
However…"
Madara's lips curled into a thin smile.
"Beyond the Mangekyō lies a higher evolution—
the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan."
He tapped the corners of his eyes, the eternal pattern swirling within.
"In this form, the eyes' power can be used without limit,
no longer bound by sight or strain.
It is the pinnacle of ocular strength.
With it, I earned the title of the Demon of the Shinobi World,
and stood equal to the man called the God of Shinobi—Hashirama Senju.
For years, I believed that was the peak of our power—
until I uncovered the words left behind by the Sage of Six Paths.
There exists yet another stage—
a final evolution beyond even the Eternal Mangekyō.
The conditions for its awakening, however, are... exceedingly rare."
Madara's voice lowered, deep with the weight of history.
"When I finally attained that evolution,
I was already over ninety years old...
That evolution is what you now possess—
the Rinnegan.
But to cultivate the Rinnegan requires immense chakra—
something even I, in my old age, no longer had.
So I sought out the only clan with chakra on par with the Senju—
the Uzumaki.
And in the end, I chose a boy from Amegakure—
a boy of Uzumaki blood.
I transplanted my eyes into him...
And that boy—was you, Nagato."
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