The night sky hung over the Isle of Whirlwind, dark and heavy, like a blanket of wrath unwilling to let the starlight through.
Dark clouds gathered, obscuring the full moon as if reluctant to allow this night to be seen by the heavens.
Waves crashed against the shore with a heavy thud—rhythmic yet wild, carrying the scent of salt, blood, and a torturous silence.
On the beach still wet from the remnants of the previous battle, only thirty-one ninjas remained.
Their bodies stood tall, but their spirits had bowed.
Some of them lowered their heads, not daring to look directly at Reiji, while others stared blankly into the dark horizon.
Reiji's footsteps could be heard on the sand, light yet filled with a piercing confidence like a dagger.
As Reiji walked slowly, his eyes swept over their faces one by one.
Reiji's smile was thin—a predator's smile, sated not by food, but by victory.
Reiji then glanced at the sky for a moment, as if sneering at the night itself, before lowering his gaze back to the ninjas who were now nothing more than a collection of shadows of defeat.
"Well, you all…" Reiji's voice rang cold, with a mocking tone like a whip that cut through the air.
"It's time to sign the Slavery Contract."
With a theatrical gesture, Reiji used the Storage Gloves and pulled out something—a large scroll, almost the size of an adult human.
The fabric was pitch black, dark as a starless night, absorbing the surrounding light like a black hole swallowing hope.
As it unfurled, the scroll cascaded onto the sand with a heavy rustle, like the tongue of a devil just extended to taste a soul.
"This is not an ordinary Cursed Contract like the ones your comrades signed," Reiji said, his voice laced with a cruel amusement.
"This… is more than that. This is the Slavery Contract."
Reiji let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing with a mocking smile.
"Of course, you can call it 'prisoner of war'—if that helps you close your eyes tonight."
"But the reality remains: once this contract is signed, you no longer belong to yourselves."
"You belong to me."
"To the Uzumaki Clan."
"And before that signature is complete… your chakra will remain sealed."
"So if you still want to feel your own chakra… you better finish this process quickly."
With a sharp flick, Reiji fully opened the scroll.
Its surface was filled with rows of blood-red sealing symbols that pulsed faintly, as if alive—or hungry.
"Bite your thumb until it bleeds."
"Write your name."
"Stamp it with the same thumb. Hurry!" Reiji shouted sharply.
"I'm hungry! I haven't eaten since morning, and I don't have time for slow slaves!"
Reiji's tone rose, his expression changing—not angry… more like bored.
Like a little king dealing with rough work.
The thirty-one ninjas fell silent.
Silence hung thick and suffocating.
Not one of them spoke.
Only the sound of heavy breathing, creaking joints, and the whisper of sand blown by the wind could be heard.
Then, one ninja stepped forward; it was Yukina.
Yukina's left hand trembled.
Where Yukina bit her thumb—too hard, causing blood to spurt more than necessary.
Then Yukina wrote her name on the scroll, the letters shaky, her blood dripping down to the side of her leg.
As Yukina stamped her thumb next to her name… she let out a stifled scream.
On Yukina's back, the seal glowed.
Then Yukina bent over, gritting her teeth, as if something was gripping her bones from within.
The other ninjas watched.
Some swallowed hard.
Others began to step forward.
One by one.
Each thumbprint, each name written, each muffled scream or groan—everything added weight to the night air.
They felt their skin burning from the seal, branded by a contract they could not escape.
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