Deep inside a dim, unknown cavern, a pale, human-shaped creature stood before an elderly man seated upon a stone throne, giving its report.
"War really is terrifying, isn't it? It's even bloodier than the one you sparked back then. Konoha's casualties alone have already reached three thousand. If this keeps up, Konoha's going to collapse. Madara, doesn't that make your heart ache, even a little? That was the village you built with Hashirama, after all."
The one speaking was White Zetsu.
And the old man before him—despite his hair having turned stark white, the unmistakable spiky silhouette and his angular features revealed his identity at a glance:
Uchiha Madara — the man who once shook the entire shinobi world.
Hearing Zetsu's half-mocking tone, Madara replied calmly:
"This is the darkness Konoha chose. I foresaw this long ago. Why should I feel pain?"
White Zetsu saw that even this bait didn't stir Madara's emotions and felt a bit disappointed.
This White Zetsu was the same playful one who later accompanied Obito—always eager to tease—but Madara was too composed, too worldly. He didn't get shaken easily.
Madara said he didn't care, but then added under his breath:
"Hashirama… can you see it? Your path was wrong. This is the seed that will one day destroy Konoha. Only my Eye of the Moon Plan can erase hatred and create true peace…"
He muttered it to himself—something he repeated so often that White Zetsu no longer paid it any mind.
Suddenly, White Zetsu remembered something amusing and quickly continued:
"You always compare yourself to Hashirama, but you know, there's a newcomer in the shinobi world everyone's calling the next Shura of the Shinobi World!"
Madara's immediate reaction was a cold snort.
"They've never seen my peak. They're just ants amusing themselves. My realm is far beyond theirs."
Dismissive words—yet White Zetsu noticed Madara speaking more than usual.
Emotion—however faint—had stirred.
Good. Hook set.
So he pushed further:
"Oh, but this one might interest you. His name is Arata Itsuki—just 19 this year. I saw him fight. He faced three Kage-level opponents at once. He crippled the Third Raikage at his peak, killed the Eight-Tails jinchūriki, and forced the Two-Tails to retreat!"
Madara's eyebrow twitched.
Three Kage levels at once…
Even he knew that wasn't something ordinary shinobi could accomplish. Anyone capable of that must at least be Super-Kage level.
Hashirama and Tobirama were long dead—by Madara's estimation, there should be no Super-Kage left in the world.
Though intrigued, Madara still gave a disdainful reply:
"At most a fledgling Super-Kage. Such people appear on occasion. Still far beneath me."
But White Zetsu laughed softly.
"Are you sure? He's 19. How old were you when you reached Super-Kage level? I remember… you weren't exactly a child anymore."
That hit its mark.
Nineteen years old… already a Super-Kage.
That put him nearly on par with Madara's own pace.
Madara fell silent for a moment—then asked sharply:
"Which clan is he from? A Senju descendant? A branch Uchiha? A Hyūga heir? Or perhaps Uzumaki blood?"
Madara, more than anyone, understood the truth:
Only those with Six Paths lineage—or their branches—could reach Super-Kage.
Senju and Uchiha were direct heirs.
Hyūga and Uzumaki carried diluted ancestry.
So Arata had to be one of those.
But White Zetsu shook his head slowly.
"Nope… none of them."
Madara's gaze sharpened.
White Zetsu felt the temperature in the cave drop and quickly blurted:
"Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm not joking!"
Madara's tone chilled even further.
"Speak. Or die."
White Zetsu instantly caved.
"He's a civilian. Completely ordinary origins. I checked his ancestry—four generations were enslaved laborers during the Warring States era. His parents barely had enough talent to become genin. No special bloodline. Nothing."
Even Madara's expression shifted.
A civilian…
A nobody from a lineage of servants…
Reaching Super-Kage?
That defied everything Madara believed about the world.
"You're certain? You understand the price of lying to me."
White Zetsu nodded vigorously.
"You can check my memories yourself. I remember everything I saw—his ancestry, his battles. If you use genjutsu, it'll show up exactly as it happened."
Madara's genjutsu mastery was legendary.
He could peel open memories as easily as turning pages in a book.
Deciding caution was best, he placed his hand on White Zetsu's head—
—memories surged forth.
And the moment Madara saw Arata unleashing a jutsu nearly identical to the Perfect Susanoo, he shot to his feet.
His voice trembled—
"Impossible!"