The killing above continued, the air thick with iron and heat. Then, deep below, the seals cracked.
The coffin's lid split apart with a sound like thunder under the earth.
From within, a surge of power erupted, black and red, raw and furious.
The energy tore through the ground in spiraling veins, racing upward like molten roots.
It spread across the entire valley, burning symbols into the rocks, staining the mist a darker crimson.
When Indra's eyes opened, the world shuddered.
The ritual had worked too well.
The merging of Zetsu's essence with Indra's body had produced something far beyond his expectations.
The air trembled, the forest momentarily went silent, and the ground beneath them faintly vibrated.
But it wasn't truly Indra anymore. Nor was it Black Zetsu.
It was something caught between the two, a fusion of Zetsu's ancient malice and Indra's buried pride.
The black veins beneath his skin pulsed once, then slowly faded, dissolving into him until not a trace remained.
The fusion was complete; Black Zetsu's soul and Indra's body had fully become one.
His eyes opened.
The familiar red had darkened to an almost black hue, with faint crimson threads spiraling within like molten cracks in obsidian.
It was a distorted, evolved version of the Eternal Mangekyō, ancient and sentient in its gaze, something far beyond human eyes.
He sat up, flexing his fingers, feeling the new form settle around him. "So this is what it's like to breathe again," he murmured.
His voice was deeper, smoother, unsettlingly calm.
He still remembered Kaguya.
But the way he remembered her had changed.
She wasn't just the distant goddess or mother figure anymore.
Somewhere in the fusion, the perspective had warped.
Now she felt closer, more personal, beautiful even.
He tilted his head slightly, smirking at the thought. "To think, I once called her "mother". How… limiting."
It wasn't devotion now; it was fascination.
The way she had tried to protect the world, to save mankind from the invaders, and yet had been betrayed by her own children, it all struck him as tragically perfect.
He admired it, idolized it.
Even loved it, in a strange, twisted way.
"Those two wretched sons," he muttered, rising from the coffin. "Blinded by that disgusting frog and its sermons. They called it peace, but all they did was destroy her dream."
In fact, Indra could already feel faint traces of Kaguya's essence flowing through him, carried within the fragments of Black Zetsu's code that now intertwined with his own being, and it thrilled him.
The idea of awakening that dormant presence, of seeing Kaguya in her true, unrestrained form, filled him with a strange anticipation.
He almost smiled at the thought.
He wanted to witness her perfection again, not as a son before a goddess, but as an equal before divinity itself.
The thought was dark, almost feverish, and yet it felt completely natural to him now. Indra's eyes gleamed faintly as the idea deepened.
He couldn't wait for her to return.
He stretched his hand, chakra rippling out in waves that made the walls tremble.
The ground cracked as he floated upward through the layers of earth, emerging into the open valley.
The red mist parted around him.
Bodies lay scattered, blood mixing with the iron pools.
The surviving Chinoike froze where they stood, staring up at him as if some forgotten god had returned.
One of the leaders at the edge tried to speak, a muttered prayer, or maybe disbelief.
Indra's new eyes flicked toward him once. Just once.
In an instant, their wills shattered.
The survivors dropped to their knees, their expressions blank, eyes glazed.
The most powerful genjutsu in existence slipped into their minds like silk threads through cloth, binding thought and will alike.
Within moments, their consciousness fell silent.
The valley grew still.
Indra, no, whatever he was now, smiled faintly. "Obedient already. Good."
The earth quaked beneath him, as if even the land itself was wary of what had just awakened.
"The Chinoike clan… they've served their purpose well," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. "It would be rude not to share some of this power with them."
His aura flared again, black and red light spilling outward like a rising tide.
The energy wrapped around the remaining Chinoike, sinking into their flesh.
Their bodies began to twist and swell, the energy accumulating beneath their skin like living fire. Veins darkened, eyes bled faint light, and the air filled with the sound of cracking bone.
Indra turned his gaze toward the horizon. He could already sense it, that familiar presence drawing nearer. Ryusei Senju.
Of all powerful shinobi in the world, he was the closest and, by far, the most perceptive.
Indra could feel that keen sensing ability brushing faintly against his own aura already.
"This ritual… It's a masterpiece," he said quietly, almost admiring his own work. "A technique born of Yin and Yang, using the essence of one life to empower another. The stronger the essence, the greater the gift."
His smile deepened. "And that Senju boy… his essence will make quite the offering."
During the past few months since escaping from Madara, he had done everything possible to stay hidden, not only from Madara and the White Zetsu still loyal to him, but also from Ryusei, who operated dangerously close by.
Fortunately, this valley had once been one of his oldest hideouts, heavily reinforced with ancient sealing barriers.
Here, he had spent his time refining Indra's body and extending his quiet control over the Chinoike clan.
Bit by bit, he deceived them into participating in his grand ritual, disguising himself as a divine messenger, a being from beyond the world.
The clan, or better said, a part of it, had believed him easily.
Their exile had long driven them toward desperation and worship of strange powers, and since ancient times, Zetsu's influence had already brushed their bloodline.
He had noticed their overwhelming affinity for Yin-Yang Release long ago, which made them perfect tools for this rebirth, and more, just in case he ever needed it.
The Chinoike clan was a very unique one, in the sense that it was maybe the only clan naturally gifted in Yin–Yang Release.
Their Ketsuryūgan could both cast illusions and manipulate living, blood itself, representing both Yin and Yang in perfect balance.
It was a pity they had always underused that potential.
However, with Black Zetsu's ancient manipulation, intellect, fragments of Kaguya's memories and instincts, and the clan's own decades of torment from being imprisoned in this valley, especially, they began to innovate desperately.
Under his subtle guidance, their studies in blood and spirit turned into ritual, their ritual into worship, and their worship into doctrine.
From this, Jashinism was born, a faith born out of confinement and vengeance, a twisted hope to one day break free, reclaim their dignity, and make the world fear their name again.
The ritual they were now performing was the pinnacle of that path. their most refined creation ever, called Rite of the Crimson Divinity.
During the Warring States Period, the Chinoike were one of many mercenary ninja clans active in what would later become the Land of Lightning.
At one point, a woman of the Chinoike married the future daimyō.
His first wife, jealous and bitter, accused the Chinoike of cursing and murdering him when he died shortly after.
The lie spread like wildfire, and the entire clan was condemned.
The Uchiha were hired to carry out the exile.
In fact, who's to say that the entire tragedy in that noble's household hadn't been orchestrated by him from the start?
Black Zetsu had watched the Chinoike for ages, waiting patiently for the right moment.
He had subtly twisted events himself, feeding jealousy, stirring whispers, guiding fate, until the clan was cornered, desperate, and broken enough to believe in his divine act, his carefully crafted aura of an ancient, otherworldly savior.
Black Zetsu had then witnessed that battle firsthand, the clash between Sharingan and Ketsuryūgan, their genjutsu canceling each other out, illusion against illusion.
But outside that field, the Uchiha held every other advantage in ninjutsu and close combat.
The Chinoike were crushed and forced into the Valley of Hell in the Land of Hot Water.
When the Uchiha later joined Konoha, they forgot about them entirely.
But the Chinoike could never leave.
The son of the first wife had become the new daimyō of the Land of Lightning, ruling through Kumogakure and extending his reach to Yugakure.
Under his orders, the valley was watched for generations. They remained trapped by politics and bloodlines both.
So they made their own god.
They turned their suffering into faith.
With their strange powers and desperation, they forged a new religion and began to gather believers from outside, peasants, drifters, and the hopeless.
Thus, the Jashinist cult spread quietly beyond the valley, its roots tied to Chinoike blood.
But their isolation and madness deepened, and soon the clan split into two factions.
The hardliners wanted to break free immediately, convinced their rituals had made them divine. The doves urged patience and secrecy, waiting for the right moment.
Black Zetsu appeared among them then, veiled in the form of a mysterious being, and fanned their conflict with careful precision.
He whispered to both sides, feeding their pride, their fear, their faith.
Soon, they turned on each other.
The hardliners were stronger and should have won easily with an element of surprise, despite the somewhat smaller numbers, but Zetsu had already warned the doves in advance, ensuring both sides bled out completely.
The valley drowned in blood.
The hardliner leader, a tall, broad-shouldered man with white hair and a hardened body, believed he was performing the ultimate sacrifice, channeling all life into his own chalice to ascend as a god.
But Zetsu had twisted the seals.
The blood and chakra didn't flow into the chalice; it sank beneath the earth, siphoned directly into Indra Ōtsutsuki's preserved body.
And as the leader stood laughing, thinking divinity had chosen him, his life drained away into the darkness below.
Indra smiled faintly. The Chinoike had finally done their part.
In the end, he commanded his new followers to practice those formations of Chinoike-Jashinism, sealing the valley in layers of chakra and ensuring that Ryusei and his little group would never escape once they arrived.
Indra, however, felt no concern about them.
In his mind, there was no being left in the world capable of threatening him.
He believed himself even greater than that intruder from the Moon, the one who had once clashed with Madara to a standstill before his very eyes at that time.
He was no longer merely a wielder of Yin Release or the Sharingan.
He was Yin Release itself, the very essence of the Sharingan given form.
His eyes had transcended their limits, radiating a power that could perhaps rival the Rinnegan.
After all, the only thing that kept them from evolving further was the absence of the one missing key, the proper Senju genetic code.