"You don't know me, but you have certainly earned my ire," Isamu said, his voice dropping to a glacial chill.
"Lord Tsuchikage, are you alright?" At that exact moment, the Tsuchikage's personal Shadow Guard burst into the room, weapons drawn.
"It seems this is our first meeting, young man. I haven't the faintest idea how I've managed to offend you," Ōnoki remarked, raising a hand to signal his guards to hold their positions as he studied Isamu.
"You don't know? Let me give you a hint. The Land of Hot Springs—does that ring a bell?" Isamu's gaze remained locked on Ōnoki, completely dismissing the elite ninja surrounding him.
"Ah, the Land of Hot Springs? That isn't Konoha territory, is it? Whatever we do there is none of your concern." Upon hearing the location, Ōnoki immediately connected the dots—but since it involved a minor nation like the Land of Hot Springs, he simply didn't care.
Seeing Ōnoki's blatant indifference, Isamu's eyes narrowed, his anger simmering toward a boil.
"You launched a covert invasion of a sovereign nation—an act no different from inciting war. If I hadn't witnessed it myself, perhaps I could look the other way. But I saw it, and I will not ignore it."
"More importantly," Isamu continued, his voice tightening, "my teammate lies injured because of your schemes. Based on that alone, don't you think you owe me an explanation?"
"So, you've come all this way just because a comrade got a scratch? And here I thought you Konoha shinobi were supposed to be 'ambassadors of peace,'" Ōnoki mocked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Enough talk, Ōnoki. About my teammate's injury—how do you intend to make amends?" Isamu asked impatiently. He had no interest in a debate; he wanted to goad the old man into a fight.
"Make amends? Hah! You're nothing but a lowly Konoha brat. I don't know how you managed to sneak in here, but you're alone. Do you honestly believe you're walking out of here alive?" Ōnoki gave a sharp flick of his wrist, and the Shadow Guard instantly closed the circle around Isamu.
Faced with a dozen blades, Isamu let out a faint, hollow laugh. "Ōnoki, you've certainly changed since becoming Tsuchikage. Killing without a second thought… do you place no value on life at all?"
"Hmph! I've never had never feared of the Hidden Leaf. Even if I strike you down today, Sarutobi wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, you arrogant brat!" Ōnoki snapped.
"Kill him!"
At the command, the Shadow Guard struck with lethal precision. Steel flashed as they lunged from all sides, their movements a testament to their absolute obedience and elite training.
Yet, Isamu didn't flinch.
Deep within his sockets, the Mangekyō Sharingan began to spin in a slow, rhythmic whirl.
Seeing him stand motionless, the guards assumed he had frozen in terror.
They drove their kunai home with ruthless intent.
Got him! one ninja thought, a surge of triumph rising in his chest—only for Isamu's voice to shatter the illusion.
"You're celebrating a bit early, don't you think?"
The ninja's expression morphed into a mask of confusion.
The others didn't hesitate, pivoting to strike again.
Clang! Thud!
The weapons passed straight through Isamu's torso as if he were made of mist. There was no resistance, no blood—just the hollow sound of metal meeting metal as the guards' own weapons collided with one another.
"What…?"
The squad scrambled back, exchanging frantic, bewildered glances.
"This brat came here alone for a reason. He's… strange. The blades passed right through him. What kind of jutsu is this?" Ōnoki narrowed his eyes, his tactical mind immediately sensing the anomaly.
"Your turn is over," Isamu said, his tone flat. "Now, it's mine."
"Flame Release: Kagutsuchi!"
Black flames erupted from thin air, twisting into jagged, obsidian spikes that tore through the Shadow Guard.
In a heartbeat, the elite squad was decimated. The flames didn't just burn; they hungrily devoured everything they touched.
Within seconds, not even ash remained to mark where the men had stood.
Ōnoki's composure finally shattered.
"Those terrifying black flames… that intangibility… and such raw destructive power… This isn't going to be a simple skirmish."
After a tense silence, the Tsuchikage spoke again, his voice lower now.
"Killing my personal guard should be enough to satisfy your grudge. Leave now, and I will choose not to pursue this matter."
"Heh… are you actually backing down?" Isamu laughed, the sound devoid of mirth. "Kill when the mood strikes you, and let go when you're afraid? Ōnoki, I can't decide if you're incredibly naive or just a fool."
Ōnoki's face hardened into stone.
"Don't push your luck, boy. This is Iwagakure. I may not fully grasp your ability, but every power has its limit. I refuse to believe you can maintain that state forever. If you push me, I will bury you under the weight of an entire army."
"Numbers?" Isamu's smile turned razor-sharp.
"Ōnoki, let me remind you of something. Long ago, when you and the Second Tsuchikage traveled to Konoha to propose an alliance… who was it that you encountered?"
"Do you really think that man feared numbers?"
Ōnoki's face contorted, his skin turning a sickly shade of pale.
That memory—
That suffocating, overwhelming presence.
The man who had crushed both him and his master without breaking a sweat… who had humiliated him so thoroughly that he had been unable to even lift his head from the dirt.
"Unfortunately for you," Ōnoki growled, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "you are not him."
"It seems your memory is still intact." Isamu met the old man's gaze, his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan burning with a brilliant, predatory scarlet light.
"That's right… those eyes… that look in your soul…" Ōnoki's breathing became ragged.
"Uchiha Madara… it has to be! It's you!"
Years of buried humiliation surged to the surface, drowning his logic in a sea of resentment.
"Today… I will reclaim the dignity you stole from me!"
"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World Jutsu!"
"Uchiha Madara—die!"
A translucent white cube expanded instantly, trapping Isamu within its boundaries before collapsing inward with a flash of molecular-level destruction.
The floor and the air itself disintegrated, leaving nothing but a perfect, hollow void in the structure of the tower.
"Hahaha! So this is the great Uchiha Madara? Proud to the very end—erased by my hand!"
Ōnoki's laughter echoed through the wreckage.
But then—
Isamu stepped out of the shadows.
He was untouched. Not a speck of dust marred his cloak. At the moment of the blast, he had simply slipped into the Kamui dimension.
"Impossible… I saw the cube take you…" Ōnoki muttered, his bravado crumbling into disbelief.
"Ants will always be ants… No matter how strong they are."
"Susanoo!"
A titanic surge of blue chakra erupted from Isamu's body. The ground groaned and buckled, the very walls of the Tsuchikage's office splitting apart as a skeletal, ethereal form began to coalesce.
"This… this can't be…!" Ōnoki's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
That ancient terror—
That towering shadow—
It had returned to haunt him.
"No… this is impossible!"
In a flash, the upper body of the second-stage Susanoo manifested. Isamu rose into the air as the construct's massive legs took shape beneath him.
"ROAR—!"
The colossal titan smashed through the roof of the Tsuchikage's tower, growing larger and more imposing with every passing second.
It continued to expand until it towered over the Hidden Stone Village, a six-hundred-meter god of destruction looking down upon the world.
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