The ninjas attempting to escape were no weaklings. Most of them were Chūnin, and among them was even a Jōnin-level shinobi.
Riku could feel the pressure from that Jōnin — a sharp, instinctive sense of danger that made his pulse quicken.
If the strength of these people were combined, they might have been capable of taking down an average Elite Jōnin. Yet despite that, Orochimaru's cold voice cut through the air with disdain.
"Trash," he called them.
Riku frowned. At first, he didn't agree. These were strong shinobi — disciplined, skilled, experienced. But the moment the battle began, his doubts shattered like glass.
He finally understood what it meant to face a true veteran Kage-level expert — a monster who had danced on countless battlefields during the Great Ninja War.
Orochimaru didn't even use any flashy ninjutsu. No explosive seals, no grand summoning techniques. He simply drew the Kusanagi Sword, its blade glinting like a fang of death, and called forth a few pale white snakes that slithered from his sleeves.
Within mere heartbeats, the entire underground laboratory turned into a living nightmare — filled with the shrill screams of dying men, the crunch of shattered bones, and the splash of fresh blood against the walls.
It was over in less than a dozen breaths.
When silence finally fell, there wasn't a single survivor left in the lab.
The corpses had been… erased. Only faint streaks of blood and shredded cloth remained, proof that anyone had even been there.
No one had the chance to weave hand seals for ninjutsu. Orochimaru's speed was so overwhelming that their chakra never even had time to respond.
There were no clashes of taijutsu, either — because his taijutsu crushed them completely. Every movement was efficient and merciless; each strike ended a life before the victim even realized it.
Riku's throat felt dry. His palms were cold.
He finally grasped it — the despair of standing before a Kage-level monster. Ordinary ninja were nothing more than leaves in a hurricane, powerless to resist.
Even he, with his own growing strength and special dōjutsu, doubted he could last more than a few moves against Orochimaru.
Still, he managed to swallow, steady his breathing, and clap softly.
"Lord Orochimaru," he said, his voice trembling slightly, "that was truly… a magnificent dance."
Orochimaru's lips curved into that familiar, unsettling smile.
"A dance, you say? Fufufu… an interesting way to put it. But this level was merely a warm-up."
He lazily flicked the blood from the tip of the Kusanagi Sword with a flick of his wrist. Then, as if nothing had happened, he dispelled the white snakes and began tidying up the damaged lab equipment.
Riku watched, his spine prickling with cold dread. He's serious… this really is just a warm-up to him.
No wonder they say a single Kage-level ninja can decide the course of an entire war. Such overwhelming power wasn't just strength — it was pure domination.
Riku clenched his fists, muttering under his breath.
"I've barely reached Jōnin-level strength. Even with my eye technique, at most I could fight like an Elite Jōnin. I'm still far… far from Kage-level."
But his eyes burned with determination.
"No matter. I still have time. Kage-level, Super Kage, even the power of the Six Paths — I'll reach them all one day!"
He opened his skill panel, watching the steady glow of progress fill his vision. His confidence slowly returned.
Before long, the lab fell quiet again. The nightmare that unfolded here would never be known to the outside world. Everyone who could speak of it was already gone.
After securing a new agreement with Orochimaru, Riku quietly took his leave.
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the faces carved into the Hokage Rock. The golden rays breathed new life into Konohagakure, and the villagers gradually filled the streets once more.
With the Third Great Ninja War nearing its end, smiles had begun to return to people's faces. The air felt lighter, warmer — as if peace were finally within reach.
But inside the Hokage Building, that same sunlight failed to brighten the atmosphere.
In the Hokage's office, the air was thick with tension.
Danzo Shimura sat in front of Hiruzen Sarutobi's desk, one eye bandaged, his expression as cold and sharp as a blade. His single uncovered eye glimmered with accusation.
"Hiruzen," he said, his voice low and hard, "order Orochimaru's arrest."
Hiruzen said nothing, his pipe resting between his lips as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke that curled like fog around his weary face.
Danzo's tone grew sharper.
"Last night, all of our informants around Orochimaru disappeared. You know what that means."
In the world of shinobi, a missing informant wasn't just "lost." There was only one possible explanation — they were dead.
Which meant Orochimaru had slain Konoha's own ninja.
Though he didn't say the words outright, the implication was clear.
Hiruzen's silence lingered, heavy and suffocating. The smoke from his pipe obscured his eyes, making it impossible to tell what he was thinking.
Danzo leaned forward, his voice icy.
"Hiruzen, you can't keep indulging him just because he's your disciple. You know what he's doing — and clearing out the informants means he's achieved something dangerous. Some kind of breakthrough."
Danzo's tone darkened further.
"That kind of power doesn't belong in his hands. It belongs in ours — in the hands of those who have always protected Konoha. Orochimaru's heart is too twisted, too dark. He's unsuitable."
There was a grim kind of logic in Danzo's words. He was cunning, but his instincts were rarely wrong. From only a few hints, he could piece together the truth — and he was right to suspect something monumental.
But Orochimaru had already planned for that.
He didn't care if Danzo knew something was happening — as long as he didn't know what kind of breakthrough Orochimaru had made, or that Riku had successfully fused Hashirama's cells, the game was still in his favor.
Danzo's words were laced with ambition, but Hiruzen couldn't deny that there was some truth in them.
The power of the First Hokage — even the mere possibility of recreating it — couldn't be ignored. That kind of power, Hiruzen believed, must remain under his control.
And yet… Orochimaru was his disciple. The one who had inherited his will and brilliance.
To order his capture now, for the deaths of a few nameless ninja, felt… excessive.
Besides, Hiruzen believed in the power of words. He truly thought that if he spoke to Orochimaru himself, he could still reach him — appeal to the ideals of the Will of Fire that he had once taught.
After a long silence, Hiruzen tapped his pipe against the edge of the desk.
"Things haven't reached that point yet," he said at last. "Orochimaru is still one of Konoha's finest ninja. Without clear evidence, we cannot simply use force against him."
He paused, his voice softening.
"However… I will speak with him. After all, I am his teacher. He will listen to me."
Danzo's expression darkened instantly.
Personally talk to Orochimaru?
He saw right through it. Hiruzen wasn't protecting the village — he was protecting his own interests. He wanted to keep Orochimaru's discoveries for himself.
Danzo's composure cracked. He slammed both hands on the desk, the wood trembling under his grip.
"Hiruzen! You're too soft! Dangerous men like Orochimaru must be controlled, not coddled! If you would just let me—"
"I said," Hiruzen interrupted, his voice suddenly cold, "don't touch Orochimaru. He is my disciple. I'll handle this matter personally."
Danzo's teeth clenched, fury twisting his face.
"Hiruzen, you'll regret this."
"Danzo," Hiruzen said firmly, "I am the Hokage."
The words hit like a hammer. The power dynamic was clear.
The confrontation ended, as always, with Danzo's defeat.
He turned sharply, cloak flaring as he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
But as he walked down the corridor, his single exposed eye glimmered with a sinister light.
"Hiruzen," he muttered under his breath, "your greed is shameful. You won't even share your spoils with an old friend."
A smirk twisted across his lips.
"But just you wait. What this old man desires — power, authority — I'll claim it all."
His voice lowered into a venomous whisper.
"Orochimaru… what exactly have you accomplished? Hiding won't save you. As long as you're in Konoha, nothing escapes my eyes."
Danzo's sneer deepened.
He tapped the ground twice with his cane, and instantly, several ninja wearing animal masks appeared from the shadows and knelt before him, silent as ghosts.
The Root had been mobilized.
And once again, the gears of Konoha's darkness began to turn.
(End of Chapter 32 — "I'm Angry, You Regret")
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