"Don't… underestimate me…"
Danzō's voice suddenly turned hoarse and shrill. A final surge of madness and resolve erupted from his oil-lamp-dry body.
He still had one last trump card—one that would drag them both to death.
But—
"Behold—"
His roar cut off abruptly.
His vision spun.
He saw his own headless body slowly kneel. He saw blood geysering from the severed neck. He saw the black sealing formula on his chest flicker to life—only to dim and scatter before it could activate.
And finally—
He saw the bark-skinned man standing casually at his side, as if he had always been there. One bark-covered hand flicked nonexistent blood from its fingertips. The other held Danzō's severed head by the hair.
"…Reverse Four Symbols Sealing Technique?" the man scoffed softly—the last words Danzō would ever hear. "Child's play."
Darkness swallowed him.
The bark-skinned man glanced at Danzō's cooling corpse on the ground.
"Annoying."
With a casual wave, several thick, dark-purple vines burst from the earth like massive serpents. They coiled tightly around the body—
—and constricted.
Within seconds, the corpse that had once belonged to Shimura Danzō—the vessel of countless ambitions and schemes—was absorbed, broken down, and reduced to nothing. Not even bone fragments remained.
Utter eradication.
The forest swallowed him as though he had never existed.
The bark-skinned man—more precisely, the special puppet created by Yin An—shifted his grip on Danzō's head, weighing it thoughtfully.
He had crafted this puppet purely to stir chaos. At first, he'd been cautious about exposure.
But since Danzō had conveniently crossed his path, why not eliminate him?
Leave him alive for what—New Year's celebrations?
Besides, with Danzō dead, any future mess could simply be blamed on him.
It wasn't as though the man could crawl out of the grave to refute it.
A natural-born scapegoat.
"A fine 'gift,'" he murmured, a trace of malicious anticipation in his voice. "This should… give them quite a shock. Especially that old monkey. And Tsunade and Jiraiya, rushing over in such a hurry."
Carrying Danzō's head openly, he no longer bothered concealing himself.
He began walking toward the cave entrance at an unhurried pace.
Deep Within the Cave
The scene inside was both grotesque and eerie.
The cavern stretched far deeper than it appeared from the outside.
Broken corpses littered the ground. Blood had soaked into the rough stone floor, staining it dark red. The air was thick and suffocating with the metallic stench of death.
The Konoha shinobi, centered around Hiruzen Sarutobi, maintained a loose but functional defensive formation.
All of them were wounded. Bloodstained. Breathing heavily in the cavern's oppressive silence.
Of the dozens who had entered with Hiruzen, fewer than half remained.
Scattered around them lay the bodies of shinobi from other factions—Kumogakure, Iwagakure, Sunagakure, rogue ninja, wandering samurai. Their varied wounds testified to the brutality of the melee.
In the end, only Konoha remained standing.
And…
Another presence.
On one side stood a small group led by Orochimaru.
He still wore his loose kimono, pale face curved in a playful smile. His golden snake-like eyes scanned the Konoha forces—lingering especially on his former teacher.
Beside him stood Kabuto Yakushi, adjusting his glasses with that ever-present gentle smile.
Further back—
Karin seemed utterly unconcerned by the carnage.
She was perched atop one of the raised heads of a massive Eight-Headed Serpent statue at the deepest part of the cave. Her legs swung idly as she tapped the cold stone with her pale hand.
Her eyes remained fixed on the statue as she muttered softly:
"Hey… come out. Come on, come out…"
She sounded less like someone searching for a terrifying Devil Fruit—
—and more like someone coaxing a mischievous pet out of hiding.
Hiruzen's gaze lingered on her for less than a second before shifting away. Fine beads of sweat formed on his temple.
Apprehension.
Deep apprehension.
The "demon child" displayed in the mysterious projection had exhibited power beyond comprehension—casually manipulating the reincarnations of Indra and Asura.
That was beyond conventional shinobi logic.
He would rather face ten Orochimarus than provoke that seemingly harmless little girl.
As long as she didn't attack Konoha, he would gladly let her "play" atop that statue.
His full attention returned to Orochimaru.
The Adamantine Staff struck the ground, supporting his weary body. But his eyes remained sharp as blades.
"Orochimaru," Hiruzen's voice trembled with suppressed fury and sorrow, "what are you planning?"
It was Orochimaru's faction that had incited the greedy rabble to turn their blades toward Konoha—leading to devastating losses.
This twisted disciple was using borrowed knives to weaken the village.
"For what reason?" Orochimaru extended his long tongue and licked his cheek, producing a damp, unsettling sound. His golden eyes gleamed with greed and amusement.
"Surely… everyone here knows why, sensei."
His gaze shifted toward the Eight-Headed Serpent statue.
"For that fruit?" Hiruzen tightened his grip on Enma. "You know how dangerous it is. The projection made that clear."
"Dangerous?" Orochimaru chuckled as though amused. "Danger means the unknown. The unknown means possibility. Possibility means… transcendence."
His eyes burned with fanatic intensity.
"That is the true essence of evolution."
"Sensei… you are too conservative. And Konoha is too stagnant. In your hands, such a thing would only be buried, sealed away, feared—just another forbidden technique gathering dust."
"I will not allow it to fall into the hands of someone who desecrates life without restraint," Hiruzen said firmly.
"Oh?" Orochimaru tilted his head, tone suddenly light—almost indulgent. "And can you stop me?"
He smiled faintly.
"Old man… you should leave. Take your people and go."
"I'm not in the mood to kill you today."
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