The souls came fast. Within the fifty-meter range of his Ten'gan, over a dozen trails of faint blue light twisted upward, fading into the night air like fireflies dying in reverse.
It hadn't even been five minutes. That many souls in such a small circle—Naruto could barely wrap his mind around it.
Dozens. Hundreds. Maybe more.
He didn't need to count. He just knew this was only the beginning.
Those first dead? Civilians—powerless, unarmed, unlucky.Root operatives always started with the weak. Easier to clean up the noise before the real storm hit.
The real battle, the one that would shake the Uchiha name out of the world, would happen deep inside the compound.
And right on cue, Naruto saw it—the faint shimmer of a barrier rising over the district.It crept up like a mirage, sealing everything within.
His golden eyes traced its surface.The technique was simple but clever: it didn't just block outsiders—it twisted perception, whispering to every passerby, "Nothing's happening here. Keep walking."
If Naruto hadn't already known the truth, even he might've believed the lie.
So he crouched again in his familiar spot behind the wall, looking as lost and lonely as ever.To anyone watching, just another strange habit of the village outcast.
He knew better.
If he wanted to harvest souls tonight, the best way was to stay still.Wait for the Root to clash with the Uchiha—and take whatever drifts into his radius.
Move too much, and Danzō's dogs might notice.Draw attention, and the elders would start asking questions.And right now, survival mattered more than pride.
He'd play the fool until he didn't have to.
Still, that helplessness cut deep.It made his teeth clench, made his blood itch.He wanted to be stronger. Strong enough to stand above everyone.To never have to hide again.
For now, though, patience was its own weapon.
Within fifty meters, the world went silent under his Ten'gan.Naruto was bored out of his skull. He couldn't move, couldn't hunt, couldn't train.
So he shifted his vision into one of the nearby homes—one already emptied of life.
Curiosity is a cruel thing.
The moment his sight entered, he gagged. Hard.He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.
A family of four.All killed the same way—swift, efficient.Their heads nearly severed, blood fanned across the walls like grotesque calligraphy.
The copper scent seemed to pierce through even the spiritual link of his vision.He shut his Ten'gan at once, choking down another wave of nausea.
One-hit kills weren't frightening.But seeing them—the reality, the rawness—was.
He waited until his heartbeat steadied, then forced his eyes open again.Another retch. Another attempt.
Over and over.
Look. Gag. Breathe. Look again.
Each repetition dulled the edge of fear just a little.By the tenth corpse, the sickness had become a strange kind of calm.
It wasn't pride. It was survival.The human body adapts, even to horror.
He learned something important that night: disgust is just weakness wearing manners.
Through his Ten'gan, he could see that every Uchiha civilian had died in the same way.Quick. Clean. Routine.
The Anbu killed like surgeons.Root killed like machines.
The massacre burned fast and ended faster.
Naruto's vision drifted higher, to rooftops splashed with moonlight.The air was still again. The clan was gone.
No fight had broken out within his range—no souls from true shinobi combat.He'd expected as much. Danzō wouldn't risk letting the Uchiha fight near the perimeter.
If even one escaped, the consequences would be catastrophic.
There was nothing left to collect.
Naruto exhaled quietly, eyes dull.He'd stay for a while longer, just enough to make his usual routine look convincing.
Then he'd leave.
No one would suspect anything.He'd been visiting this area for months—long before the elders finalized their plan.Back then, no one paid attention to the lonely boy sitting outside the Uchiha walls.
And after tonight, he wouldn't return.Coming back would only raise questions.
The clan was ash now, and their home—haunted ground.
But even so, Naruto had gained much.
Dozens of souls fed into the Rikudō Shingon.He didn't know how much it would strengthen him yet, but the harvest was rich.
More importantly, he'd faced death and didn't flinch away.He'd learned what fear feels like, how it smells, how it tastes.And how to choke it down until only resolve remained.
That was the true reward of the night.
Strength begins where innocence dies.