The crescent moon hung silently in the sky. When this clash between Shanks and Madara first began nearly ten days ago, the night had been illuminated by a brilliant full moon. Now, after ten relentless days of combat, its shape had completely changed—and the same could be said for the world below.
The once-vast landscape had been reduced to utter ruin. Scars stretching for miles, deep craters, and shattered earth covered the ground, bearing silent witness to the unimaginable devastation.
Shanks stood amidst the wreckage, breathing heavily. An invisible hand protruded from the left side of his chest; to any onlooker, there was nothing there, but it was one of Madara's Limbo clones that had pierced him, while another again trying to restrain him. Moments earlier, Shanks had channeled a powerful shock through this Limbo cclone using the Black Lightning Vitalization Technique, forcing a brief release. But the instant the grip loosened, the Limo clone moved to finish him.
The clone inside his chest ripped its hand free, spilling a torrent of blood, as both Limbo clones lunged forward once more.
However, Shanks had already anticipated the strike.
The instant they moved, both of his palms struck the seemingly empty air. Though it appeared he was swinging at nothing, his hands landed squarely against the invisible clones. Black sealing marks immediately erupted from his palms, spreading across both figures until they were completely bound. Simultaneously, Shanks unleashed his Conqueror's Haki without restraint, activating the Heaven's Judgment Technique.
High above, the moon was instantly swallowed by dense, suffocating clouds.
Rumble!
Thunder echoed across the heavens. Countless bolts of lightning surged through the storm, illuminating the ruined landscape in blinding flashes of white and blue before locking onto Madara.
Madara's eyes narrowed. He had been preparing to striking Shanks down, but now he was forced onto the defensive. His regeneration had slowed considerably after the prolonged ordeal, and taking these heavenly strikes head-on was no longer an option.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Massive pillars of lightning descended from the heavens in rapid succession. While Madara focused entirely on evading and deflecting the onslaught, Shanks finalized the incantation. With a final surge of effort, the two Limbo clones were successfully sealed away—leaving Madara entirely stripped of his invisible clones.
Blood flowed continuously from the corner of Shanks's mouth as his breathing turned rough and ragged. The wound in his chest was severe enough that simply remaining upright required a monumental act of will.
But only for a moment.
Soon, the flesh around the cavity began to squirm. Muscles knit themselves back together, bones reformed, and torn lung rapidly repaired. The horrifying hole visibly closed until, within seconds, Shanks's body had completely recovered.
Yet, such miraculous healing did not come without a price. Shanks could feel the heavy toll it exacted; his chakra reserves, already severely depleted by days of fighting, plummeted dangerously low.
Madara was in no better condition. Though the lightning strikes of Heaven's Judgment had failed to kill him due to his extraordinary resilience and Truth Seeking Orb defence, every injury he healed consumed a massive portion of his remaining energy. Multiple direct hits had forced his body into a taxing cycle of continuous repair.
Now, both warriors had truly reached their limits.
The battlefield fell dead silent. The storm above continued to rumble, but neither man moved. Shanks took a slow, deliberate step forward, tiny crackles of black lightning dancing around his frame. Madara merely tightened his grip on his black staff, his gaze locked onto his opponent.
Neither spoke. There was nothing left to say. After ten days of bloodshed, victory would be decided in the next exchange.
One step. Another.
The distance between them rapidly dissolved.
Then—Shanks vanished.
Madara's eyes widened. In the very next instant, Shanks materialized directly in front of him, so close their faces were nearly touching.
The sword was already there.
A blade had pierced straight through Madara's heart.
Silence blanketed the area as Madara slowly looked down at the steel protruding from his chest, then back up at Shanks. For the first time in a long while, genuine surprise flickered in the Uchiha's eyes. It had happened too fast. Far too fast.
The reason was simple: earlier in the fight, when Madara was defending himself from the Heaven's judgment, Shanks had secretly applied the Astral Imprint Technique directly onto Madara's body. Under normal circumstances, Madara would have detected it instantly. But after ten days of ceaseless combat, his senses were dulled by exhaustion, his chakra had fallen drastically, and his concentration was frayed. He had neither seen nor felt the mark's placement.
When the decisive moment arrived, Shanks used that hidden anchor to bypass space, appearing close enough to drive his sword in chest. Madara had fallen for the trap.
Not content with just the stabbing, Shanks's hands immediately blurred into hand seals despite his profound fatigue. The moment the final seal was formed, he slammed his palm onto Madara's forehead.
Black sealing formulas erupted from the point of contact, crawling across Madara's face, neck, chest, and limbs like living chains. Within moments, they shrouded his entire body, locking away whatever residual chakra remained. Shanks had no intention of leaving anything to chance; a wounded Madara was still Madara.
The moment the seal set, Shanks pulled his sword out of Madara's chest and readied himself to strike again. His intention was brutal and absolute: decapitate the Uchiha, destroy his brain, and incinerate the remains with lightning to ensure zero possibility of resurrection.
However—a sudden spike of danger flared within his God's View.
Shanks pivoted instantly.
Clang!
A powerful strike caught him from the side. Reacting on instinct, he deflected the blow and retreated several meters, his eyes narrowing.
The attacker was Obito. But he wasn't alone.
Kisame appeared in front of Madara, acting like a defensive wall that barred Shanks from delivering the finishing blow. His posture made his intentions clear: protect Madara at all costs, and eliminate Shanks if necessary.
Naturally, the Uzumaki siblings weren't about to stand by. The moment they saw the Akatsuki move, they intercepted them, appearing right in front of Shanks.
The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense. Both factions stared each other down, neither willing to make the first move in their exhausted states. A complete stalemate had formed.
At that moment, another figure emerged from the shadows: Black Zetsu. Without drawing attention, he slid beside Madara, offering a hand to support his slumped body.
Internally, Madara felt a wave of relief. He had survived. The Infinite Tsukuyomi had failed this time, and his grand plans were in ruins, but as long as he drew breath, there would be another opportunity. He could recover. He could plan. He could succeed another day.
Those thoughts had barely crossed his mind when a hand erupted through his back.
Madara's body froze. His eyes dilated, and blood spilled over his lips. Slowly lowering his head, he stared in horror at the pitch-black hand protruding from his chest—right through the wound Shanks had already carved open. Whatever healing his body had managed was instantly obliterated by this new trauma.
Madara knew instantly: this wound was fatal. Far more fatal than the sword through his heart. He was standing at death's door.
He slowly turned his head, his face a mask of utter disbelief. "Why...?"
Black Zetsu's expression remained cold and detached. "Just as Obito was your pawn, you were mine."
The battlefield went quiet as everyone listened to the betrayal.
Black Zetsu continued calmly, a strange, twisted excitement creeping into his voice. "After all, I have lurked in this world for thousands of years just for this day... the day my mother is finally unsealed and revived."
Madara's pupils shrank. For the first time in decades, absolute shock paralyzed him.
Before he could utter a word, the roots of the God Tree came alive. Massive wooden tendrils erupted from the earth, wrapping around Madara's body one after another, completely binding him. They began dragging him toward the massive trunk, Black Zetsu remaining fused to him the entire time.
Madara struggled, but it was futile. He was exhausted, sealed, and mortally wounded; there was nothing he could do. Within moments, his body was pulled into the enormous trunk of the God Tree, the wood absorbing him until his face sank entirely into the bark.
Immediately, the God Tree began to mutate. The colossal structure that towered over the land began to shrink, its gigantic roots and branches receding and compressing inward, as if the entire entity was being swallowed by Madara's body.
The transformation lasted for several grueling minutes until the towering tree condensed into a single point, leaving only a massive black sphere floating eerily in the sky.
No one spoke. No one moved. Every eye was fixed on the floating mass.
Shanks narrowed his eyes. He had been waiting for this. Gazing up at the sphere, he muttered under his breath, "Here she comes."
The moment the words left his lips—crack.
A small fracture splintered the surface of the sphere, followed by another, and another, until countless fissures webbed across the giant egg.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The shell shattered completely, scattering fragments in every direction as a terrifying, suffocating tide of chakra erupted from within. The sheer pressure forced everyone present to tense up.
From the center of the ruined shell, a figure slowly emerged. It was a beautiful woman with impossibly long white hair and skin as pale as snow. Two horns swept back from her brow. Her expression was entirely serene, yet her mere presence felt heavy enough to crush the earth.
The power radiating from her completely eclipsed everything that had come before.
The progenitor of chakra. The Rabbit Goddess.
Kaguya Otsutsuki had finally returned.