"So… you're really going back to your own time?" Garuda asked after a long silence. She wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes and looked at Isamu with reddened eyes.
"Yes, that's right." Isamu nodded. He reached out and gently touched her face, speaking softly. "But if you're willing to wait for me, I promise we will meet again in a thousand years."
"A thousand years later?" Garuda looked up at him, stunned. A person's lifespan was limited—how could anyone live for a thousand years? Even the Six Paths Sage couldn't do that. Still, despite the doubts swirling in her heart, she chose to believe him. How could she not want to see Isamu again? Even if it was nothing more than a distant dream, she refused to let it shatter.
"Isamu, I believe you. I'll wait for you, no matter how long it takes. Even if I die, my soul will keep waiting. I'll always remember your promise and the day we meet again." By the end, Garuda could no longer hold back her emotions. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. Whether the promise was possible or not, this beautiful hope would surely become an obsession, accompanying her through countless years of longing.
Seeing Garuda so heartbroken, Isamu felt at a loss. He had countless words of comfort in his heart, but none of them would come out. After a long moment of hesitation, all those unspoken words turned into a single tight embrace. He held her close—perhaps that was the best comfort he could offer.
"Garuda, wait for me. A thousand years from now, we will meet again." Isamu kissed her forehead gently, then took out a small bottle. He hesitated briefly before continuing, "Before that, though, I need to collect some of your blood. Don't misunderstand—I've mastered a forbidden technique that can summon the souls of the dead back to the living world, but it requires some of the person's physical essence as a medium. A thousand years is…"
Before he could finish, Garuda placed a finger over his lips, shaking her head softly. She took the small bottle from his hand.
"You don't need to explain. I understand. As long as it's your word, I'll believe it no matter what." Garuda gave him a small, gentle smile. Without hesitation, she sliced open her palm. Bright red blood flowed steadily into the bottle.
Her unconditional trust moved Isamu deeply. Just like the Uchiha clan members of old, Garuda trusted him without reservation. Such faith was incredibly precious. Isamu silently swore to himself that the moment he returned, he would resurrect her. Only then could he live with peace of mind.
Soon the small bottle was full. The wound on Garuda's palm healed at a visible rate; in moments, even the scar had vanished. She handed the bottle back to Isamu and said softly, "You must come as soon as possible. I'll always be waiting for you—even if I'm no longer alive."
"I will. Thank you, Garuda. I won't betray your trust." Isamu nodded solemnly. He stored the blood-filled bottle carefully inside his Kamui dimension. This was the key to resurrecting her; he could not afford even the slightest mistake.
At that moment, the Old Man arrived with Mandala and the others. Half an hour had passed, and they had run out of patience. Seeing them approach, Isamu and Garuda quickly composed themselves. Now that everything had been said, the path ahead was clear—even if the wait would be painfully long.
"Garuda, Isamu, how did your talk go?" The Old Man glanced at the pair. His instincts told him their demeanors had changed significantly; they must have reached some kind of understanding.
However, he chose not to dwell on it. Looking at Isamu, he asked again, "Young man, I'll say it once more: if you wish to be with Garuda, you must come with us. From the looks of it, you've come to an agreement, but I'll ask one final time—are you willing to join us?"
If it were anyone else, the Old Man wouldn't have pressed the issue. But he genuinely admired Isamu's strength. If Isamu came to the moon, the seal on the Ten-Tails would be even more secure, and he could help protect Hamura's lineage.
"Ah, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you this time," Isamu replied calmly. "I still have things I must do in my own era, so I cannot go with you. As for Garuda, you may take her with you for now. But one day, I will personally come for her and bring her back." His gaze remained fixed on Garuda as he spoke.
The Old Man frowned slightly, then nodded. "Is that so? What a shame. Since you have your own path to follow, I won't force you. This is a matter for you youngsters to resolve as you see fit." Though disappointed, he respected Isamu too much to pressure him.
"Isamu, what the hell is this?!" The Old Man might have accepted the answer, but Mandala could not. Though he disliked Isamu, the deed was already done—how could he let him leave so easily? This was unfair to his sister.
"Mandala, be quiet!" the Old Man snapped, turning to reprimand him. "This is between Garuda and Isamu. It has nothing to do with you!" Mandala immediately shrank back, though he continued glaring at Isamu with clear dissatisfaction. If Mandala possessed even half of Indra's courage and recklessness, the world would likely be far more chaotic. Fortunately, the Old Man was there to keep him in check.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Suddenly the ground shook violently. Everyone staggered, struggling to keep their balance. Once they steadied themselves, all eyes turned toward the source of the tremors—the battlefield where Indra and Ashura were fighting.
What they saw was an incomparably massive giant, hundreds of meters tall. Equally terrifying was the three-hundred-meter-high tsunami roaring across the land. A wave of that magnitude was nothing short of a world-destroying force.
Wherever it passed, the earth was torn away, mountains crumbled, and ancient forests vanished beneath the flood. Seawater spread relentlessly, crashing toward distant continents. Because of Indra and Ashura's battle, countless ordinary people suffered, and countless lives were lost in an instant. The sight moved everyone present—including Isamu.
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