Time rewinds to the night when Sarutobi Hiruzen led the remnants of Konoha in an assault on the City of Peace.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, Jiraiya, Might Guy—several Kage-level shinobi—were all killed in action. More than half of the remaining elite forces perished as well.
As the sun rose, Sasuke pushed open the door to his home, a cheerful smile on his face.
A new day. A new beginning. He had even changed into a new outfit, naturally putting him in a good mood.
His old clothes had been ruined during the battle the night before. He had no choice but to rip some material off Jiraiya's corpse and stitch together a makeshift outfit. Surprisingly, it worked quite well. Old skin and leather have their merits—tough, elastic, and durable...
The battle wasn't over. Or rather—it had only just begun.
The City of Peace was about to undergo a brutal and bloody purge. There was no room here for traitors… or dissenting voices!
Sasuke floated midair like a sage, his feet resting on swirling mist. His gaze turned to a white figure in the distance. He looked on with meaning in his eyes.
"Neji… so you've finally decided to show yourself."
Lowering his head, his gaze swept over the ground—over those weak, insignificant lives that crawled like ants. He raised his right hand high into the sky. In his palm, a massive, rotating cloud sphere began to form.
"Prepare to meet your end."
His arm came down with a sudden sweep.
The sphere plummeted straight down. Countless tendrils sprouted from its spinning surface like outstretched tentacles—shaped like some grotesquely oversized virus model.
The scent of decay and death swept outward.
There was no earth-shattering explosion—no dramatic roar. The terror came silently.
Buildings aged and crumbled in an instant. Roads cracked and sank into ruin. Screams and wails echoed without end. At times, you could even glimpse the corpse of a shinobi collapsing into a bubbling pool of pus and rot.
Screams pierced the air one after another, high-pitched and shrill, stabbing through the eardrums. Countless people poured into the streets in panic, swarming like ants on a burning pan—terrified, furious, helpless.
A group of the surviving Konoha rookies had gathered near Ichiraku Ramen, staring blankly at the outbreak of chaos. This was far more terrifying than the destruction of Konoha. A suffocating horror filled the air.
—They'd heard stories of tragedy before. But living through one? That was something else entirely.
Yamanaka Ino's gaze was locked on Sasuke. Her face twisted in terror, pale as a sheet. Her body trembled, and she gasped desperately for breath.
Sakura clenched her fists tight—so tight her lip bled from biting it. Beside her, Rock Lee stood in his trademark skin-tight jumpsuit, veins bulging on his forehead, eyes burning with fury. He had already heard the news—Might Guy was dead. To Lee, Guy wasn't just a sensei… he was family. The fire of vengeance burned in his chest, consuming his reason.
Tenten, hair tied up in her usual buns, glanced at Lee and hesitated, her mouth twitching as if she wanted to speak. But in the end, she said nothing, quietly slipping to the back of the group.
She turned her head—only to see Nara Shikamaru also inching backward. They exchanged a sheepish, awkward smile, silently agreeing to make themselves as small and invisible as possible.
...
Elsewhere, on another street, Neji suddenly appeared.
He wore a spotless white robe, like a celestial being untouched by the mortal world. Strange power coiled around him. Wherever he passed, every living creature collapsed—faces frozen in expressions of bliss, pain, or sorrow… until death claimed them.
"So weak…" Neji muttered, voice low and disdainful. "People like you don't even deserve to live. All that's waiting for you is more suffering."
He walked past two corpses, locked in a final embrace. The emotions around him—joy, rage, sorrow, madness—took on tangible form, twisting wildly through the air, ripping life after life from the world.
"I hate the smell of blood."
He pinched his nose in disgust. His clear gaze swept over the grotesque corpses killed by the rotting mist—twisted, malformed bodies, reeking of rot and mucus. If any living person so much as touched the slime, they'd be infected instantly.
Sasuke's efficiency at killing far surpassed Neji's.
Unlike Sasuke, Neji seemed to have a strong aversion to gore. He didn't like the sight or smell of blood. Yet despite the carnage, not a single drop of blood stained him. His pale eyes swept over the battlefield—corpses everywhere—but he remained immaculate from head to toe.
Of course, to an average shinobi, it didn't matter which of the two they faced.
The result was the same.
The rotting mist continued to spread. Ninjutsu of every element burst within it—but to no effect. Worse, the attacks seemed to provoke the mist, inviting even more savage retaliation.
Some were devoured by its tendrils, their flesh dissolved entirely. Others choked as it invaded their noses and mouths, rotting them from the inside out—until only tattered human skin remained on the ground.
Wherever the mist passed, life and soul were severed alike.
Boom!
Suddenly, countless vines and tree branches erupted from the earth, swiftly covering an entire district. It was the vibrant force of Wood Release, barely managing to resist the decay of the mist—and buying a few survivors precious time to breathe.
Yamato, clad in a standard shinobi flak jacket, kept his hands in a sealing stance, chakra surging from his body. He shouted back over his shoulder to Nara Shikaku:
"Find a way to stop Uchiha Sasuke and Hyuga Neji! Whatever they want—give it to them!"
He had no faith in his or Konoha's ability to win. The destruction of Konoha had already proven that. Sasuke and Neji together were invincible. All Yamato wanted now… was to survive—and maybe negotiate a less miserable surrender.
But Shikaku shook his head in despair.
"It's useless. They won't stop."
If surrender had worked, the Nara clan would've thrown their hands up long ago. Shikaku himself was a fence-sitter through and through. He'd thought no matter who won—Sasuke or Hiruzen—the Nara could use their intelligence to carve out a role for themselves. After all, serving someone was still better than dying.
But Sasuke didn't follow the script.
He flipped the entire table.
Shikaku had realized long ago that Sasuke held an equal amount of malice toward everyone. He thought once Sasuke became a shogun-like ruler, he'd at least try to maintain some image… but after Hiruzen's last resistance, Sasuke stopped pretending.
He didn't want control.
He wanted everyone dead.
How the hell was Shikaku supposed to "meet his demands"?
There was no choice but to run. The chances were slim—but he had to try. At the very least, he had to fight for a sliver of hope for his son.
...
"You're stronger than I expected, Yamato," Sasuke murmured.
Yamato's Wood Release couldn't compare to Senju Hashirama's—but it wasn't just good for landscaping either.
With a flick of his hand, waves of rotting mist surged forward again, transforming into countless tendrils that tore into Yamato's forest.
Wood chips flew through the air.
Vitality faded in an instant.
With a wet crackle, holes began to open up in Yamato's summoned trees. The vibrant greenery withered into lifeless husks.
Sasuke vanished into the mist.
Only a pair of glowing crimson eyes remained, locked onto Yamato like a death sentence.
An overwhelming wave of malice surged up like icy tentacles...
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Pls Drop some Power Stones
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