Sasuke found himself in Itachi's signature genjutsu world.
Black and white reality. Red moon hanging in a gray sky. He was crucified to a wooden cross, kunai piercing his body. Multiple copies of Itachi surrounded him.
"In here, I control everything," Itachi's voice echoed. "Time. Space. Mass. For the next seventy-two hours of subjective time, I will make you understand the weight of what you've done. Every Uchiha you killed—I will show you their final moments from their perspective. Every child who begged for mercy—you will feel their terror. Every—"
"No," Sasuke interrupted calmly.
His Mangekyo blazed—all fifty-one nodes activating simultaneously. But not just his pattern. Every absorbed Sharingan within his collection activated at once, overlaying his vision with dozens of different perspectives.
Forty-one Sharingan versus one Mangekyo.
The Tsukuyomi world cracked like glass.
Itachi's control shattered. The genjutsu collapsed in seconds instead of holding for hours.
They snapped back to reality. Itachi staggered, blood streaming from both eyes. His Mangekyo flickered—he'd put significant chakra into that Tsukuyomi, expecting it to last.
"Impossible," Itachi gasped. "My Tsukuyomi has never been broken so quickly. How—"
"Because I have forty-one Sharingan contributing their power to my resistance." Sasuke's voice was cold with satisfaction. "Your genjutsu is impressive, Itachi. But you're trying to trap one person with one Mangekyo. I'm defending with the collective power of forty-one Sharingan, including Shisui's Kotoamatsukami. Your technique never stood a chance."
Itachi's hands moved desperately. "Then Amaterasu!"
Black flames erupted from his eyes, streaking toward Sasuke with the speed of thought. The inextinguishable fire that burned through anything—
Sasuke didn't dodge.
The Amaterasu struck him directly. Black flames engulfed his body, burning with heat that could melt rock.
For a moment, Itachi allowed himself hope. Amaterasu never failed. Once marked, the target burned until nothing remained—
Then Sasuke walked out of the flames.
His Dragon Sage Mode-enhanced body regenerated the burns as fast as Amaterasu could create them. The Hashirama cells worked overtime, his natural energy-infused chakra providing the power for continuous regeneration.
"Is this it?" Sasuke asked, flames still licking at his shoulders harmlessly. "Is this the legendary technique that made you famous? Amaterasu—the inextinguishable fire?"
He brushed the black flames off his body like they were annoying insects. They dissipated at his touch, his natural energy overpowering even Amaterasu's nature.
"Underwhelming."
Itachi stared in genuine shock. "Nothing should survive Amaterasu. How are you—"
"Dragon Sage Mode provides regeneration beyond your comprehension. And my Hashirama cells evolved to process natural energy so efficiently that your flames can't damage me faster than I heal." Sasuke formed his own seals. "Let me show you real fire."
"Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!"
The technique erupted from his mouth—massive beyond anything Itachi had ever seen. Enhanced by the absorbed Dragon Vein's power, it was less a fireball and more a tsunami of flames that engulfed the entire monastery.
Itachi substituted at the last second, appearing outside. His breathing was labored, his movements sluggish. The disease combined with chakra exhaustion from Tsukuyomi and Amaterasu was destroying him.
"You're dying," Sasuke observed, walking through his own flames unharmed. "Minutes left, maybe. The disease has progressed to terminal stage. You can barely stand."
"Perhaps," Itachi admitted, coughing blood. "But I still have one technique."
His chakra flared. Ribcage of red energy materialized around him. Then arms. Then a skull. The skeletal warrior took shape—
"Susanoo," Itachi said. "The ultimate defense. Even you can't—"
Sasuke activated Ame-no-Sakahoko.
Black-red crystalline chakra coated both his hands, enhanced by Dragon Sage Mode's natural energy. The defense-breaking technique materialized with power that made the air itself scream.
He moved forward casually. His crystalline chakra-coated fist struck Susanoo's ribcage—
The legendary perfect defense shattered like glass.
Itachi's eyes went wide with genuine terror. "No... Susanoo is absolute defense... it can't be broken by—"
"By anything except a technique specifically designed to break defenses." Sasuke's other fist struck again, shattering Susanoo's arm. "Ame-no-Sakahoko—Heavenly Reversed Halberd. It breaks all protection at a conceptual level. Your Susanoo. Your reputation. Your legendary power. All meaningless."
Susanoo collapsed completely. Itachi fell to his knees, chakra completely depleted.
Sasuke stood over him. His draconic pupils gleamed in the moonlight. His Mangekyo spun lazily—fifty-one nodes representing fifty-one stolen eyes.
"It's over, Itachi. You lost before we even began. Your disease weakened you. Your techniques failed against my collection. You never stood a chance."
Itachi looked up, blood streaming from his eyes. "Then do it. Take my eyes. Complete your collection. But know this—"
He coughed violently, more blood.
"You'll never be satisfied. You'll collect every eye in existence and it still won't fill the emptiness inside you. You're not Sasuke Uchiha anymore. You're just a ghost wearing his face. A collector who forgot what he was collecting for."
"You're wrong." Sasuke grabbed Itachi's face, forcing eye contact. Both their Mangekyo blazed—his complex fifty-one node pattern dominating Itachi's simple pinwheel. "I know exactly what I'm collecting for. Ultimate power. The strength to face the Otsutsuki. The ability to stand against gods."
"Takama-ga-hara."
The absorption technique activated at maximum intensity.
Itachi's Mangekyo Sharingan began transferring. But this was different from every previous absorption. Mangekyo weren't just eyes—they were individualized, containing unique abilities and the user's very soul.
Tsukuyomi's structure—the genjutsu that controlled reality—flowing into Sasuke's left eye.
Amaterasu's essence—the black flames that burned eternally—integrating into his right eye.
And beneath both techniques, the fundamental pattern of Itachi's Mangekyo itself. The power that had made him legendary.
"No..." Itachi gasped. Not from pain—he was beyond that. From the sensation of his very identity being stolen. "This isn't... this isn't how it should end..."
Forty seconds. The absorption of Mangekyo took longer than regular Sharingan. The power was too complex, too developed, too individual.
Itachi's eyes began to fade. The pinwheel pattern dissolving as its structure transferred.
"I wanted... you to understand..." Itachi's voice was barely a whisper. "The massacre... Konoha's orders... I did it to prevent... civil war..."
"I know." Sasuke's voice was completely flat. "I've always known. About the coup. About Danzo's ultimatum. About your sacrifice for peace. I know everything, Itachi."
Itachi's fading eyes widened in shock. "You... knew?"
"And I didn't care." Sasuke's technique pulled harder. "Your reasons were irrelevant. Your sacrifice was meaningless. I only cared about your eyes. That's all you ever were to me—a source of Eternal Mangekyo."
Sixty seconds. The absorption completed.
Itachi's eyes—now ordinary black, empty of all power—stared up at Sasuke with pure despair.
"What are you?" Itachi whispered.
"A collector. The Dojutsu Hunter. The one who will surpass even the Sage of Six Paths." Sasuke released him.
Itachi collapsed. His body was already shutting down—the disease combined with chakra exhaustion and the trauma of having his Mangekyo stolen.
He had maybe seconds left.
"I'm sorry," Itachi breathed. "I failed you... little brother..."
"I'm not your brother." Sasuke's voice was empty. "Your brother died the night you left for Akatsuki. I'm just someone who took his place. Someone who saw your eyes as valuable resources and nothing more."
Itachi's mouth moved, trying to form words. But his body gave out.
He died staring at the sky, his now-powerless eyes reflecting only darkness.
Sasuke stood over the corpse, checking his own eyes in a puddle's reflection.
His Mangekyo had transformed.
The fifty-one node pattern had shifted, reorganized. Fifty-three nodes now—Itachi's Mangekyo counting as two due to its individual abilities. The geometric design was almost impossibly complex.
But more importantly—
He could feel it. The change happening in real-time. His eyes weren't just Mangekyo anymore. They were evolving.
The eternal light was awakening.