Silence blanketed the hall.
Those who had been shouting moments ago instinctively stepped back, the fury on their faces instantly replaced by shock.
The Rinnegan… it's actually the Rinnegan?!
Wasn't this… a dōjutsu that only existed in legend?
How could it appear in this boy's eyes?
In an instant, countless Sharingan-wielding clansmen felt their pride shatter, suppressed by something that came from the depths of their souls.
They had always taken pride in the Sharingan, believing the Eternal Mangekyō was the absolute pinnacle—the ultimate form of the Uchiha bloodline.
But now, this youth—who hadn't even awakened the Sharingan—looked down on them all with a single glance.
Fugaku stared fixedly at those violet eyes, his heart pounding wildly, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.
He wanted to speak, but no words would come.
The only sound in the hall was Ryota's footsteps.
He walked past Fugaku and sat on the stone seat that symbolized the head of the Uchiha Clan, looking down at the crowd of uneasy, fearful eyes.
"Any questions?"
No one answered. Not because they hadn't heard—because no one dared.
The silence pressed in, the air almost solid.
Until Fugaku slowly turned around. Yet in the end, he did not waste time with the meaningless "Who are you?"
He looked at Ryota and finally spoke:
"You want to be clan head… What is it you're really after?"
"The Uchiha have never wronged you."
In Fugaku's mind, a being this strong—if he truly bore malice—could simply destroy them, or intimidate them into submission, or even wipe them out outright. There was no need to take the step of declaring himself clan head and assuming their authority.
So he had to ask. He had to know the man's true purpose.
Ryota only smiled—there was irony in it, and a clarity that was almost cruel.
"You think I actually care about this so-called position?"
Seated on the stone chair, his voice was quiet, but each word was like a blade:
"If I wanted to—I could kill every single one of you right now."
"But I haven't."
"Not because I'm merciful… but because you still have value."
The words dropped like a boulder into the stifling air, making every face tighten. Yet no one dared to retort as they had before.
Ryota rose to his feet, the purple glow of the Rinnegan glaring in the dim hall.
"A few days from now…"
"…the Uchiha Clan will be annihilated."
"Men, women, children—none will be spared."
The hall erupted with sharp intakes of breath, expressions frozen in disbelief.
"W-what?!"
"What nonsense are you spouting?!"
"Who would dare—!!"
"…!"
Some shouted in rage, some questioned, some clung desperately to reason—
But in more eyes than not, confusion and fear began to surface.
"The one pulling the strings is Shimura Danzō."
"You think you've been biding your time in the Police Force… but in truth, you've been nothing more than meat on the chopping block."
His lips curled into a cold sneer as his gaze swept the crowd:
"And as for this so-called Will of Fire you speak of…"
"A clan this large, wiped from existence—do you really think the Third Hokage hasn't been nudging it along from behind the scenes?"
"You think he truly knows nothing? That he can't stop it?"
"He simply doesn't want to stop it."
"Because he needs a stable overall picture… and you aren't part of that picture."
The words dropped, and the hall's temperature seemed to plummet.
Everyone froze.
It was enough to overturn their understanding, their beliefs—perhaps even the meaning of their lives.
And the worst part was, they couldn't refute it.
The cold shoulders, the ostracism, the constant reassignments, the restrictions over the years…
Every fragment now slotted into place, forming a complete picture within Ryota's speech.
And they suddenly realized a truth too cruel to accept—
They'd been sentenced to death long ago. The blade just hadn't fallen yet.
Ryota's gaze swept the room before finally settling on Fugaku.
"Uchiha Itachi."
"…He hasn't been back to the clan much lately, has he?"
Fugaku blinked, momentarily unsure of Ryota's intent, but still answered reflexively:
"…Yes. His missions have been frequent lately. He hasn't returned often."
A mocking light glinted in Ryota's eyes, as if he were watching a bird fly straight into a snare.
"Then guess…"
"…on the night of the massacre…"
"…whose hand held the blade?"
Boom!
The words struck Fugaku like a thunderclap. His expression froze, his body locked in place.
His pupils shrank violently, his throat constricting as if something were stuck there.
"You… what did you just say…"
Instinctively, he rejected the thought—rejected even imagining the possibility.
"You're joking…"
"That's my son… there's no way—"
"…what did you just say…"
Fugaku's voice trembled, as if the very declaration was erasing the ground beneath him.
"That's my son… there's no way—"
"You're joking…"
He muttered low, hoping for a denial from Ryota. But all he got was a cold snort.
Think about it yourself.
Ryota spared no more words for the clan head whose face had gone ashen. The Rinnegan turned, fixing instead on a man standing to the right of the crowd.
Ryota remembered him—Uchiha Setsuna.
A jōnin of the Uchiha, a member of the Konoha Military Police Force, a Hawk through and through.
"You. Step forward."
Ryota's voice was flat, but left no room for refusal.
Setsuna hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward.
"Senior…"
"Take off your shirt. Show me your back."
The sudden request made Setsuna blink, stunned.
"W-what?"
Ryota only tilted his chin slightly, eyes narrowing.
"Now."
Setsuna swallowed hard, a prickle of unease crawling up his spine. But faced with those Rinnegan eyes, he didn't dare disobey. His voice shook.
"…Yes."
He slowly removed his shirt, baring his back.
Dozens of eyes followed the movement, unsure what Ryota intended.
Ryota stepped down from the stone seat, raising a single finger.
Shhh—
A faint line opened on his fingertip, a single drop of blood welling up.
Drip.
It fell onto the very center of Setsuna's back—
And in that instant—
Vmmm!!!
The entire hall seemed to suddenly ignite with an unseen force, the air thick with a mysterious, almost divine aura.
The moment that drop of blood seeped into Uchiha Setsuna's skin, vine-like patterns began spreading rapidly across his back.
It wasn't a curse mark, nor was it any kind of sealing jutsu—it was an ancient, profound structure, spiraling outward. At its center, a scarlet light pulsed irregularly, like the beat of a heart.
And the instant those markings appeared, Ryota's eyes were filled with Uchiha Setsuna's personal Status:
[Name]: Uchiha Setsuna
[Status]: Strength: i0, Endurance: i0, Dexterity: i0, Agility: i0, Magic: i0
[Development Abilities]: None
[Magic]: —
[Skills]: —
A flicker of satisfaction passed through Ryota's gaze as he looked over the data.
"As I thought—it works."
The system's Main Quest was to [Take control of the Uchiha Clan], but it had never specified how that control should be achieved.
He knew that relying solely on force, slaughter, and intimidation could indeed crush the clan in an instant—could even grind them into dust and swallow them whole.
But that method wasn't just inefficient—it would also trigger the system's rejection.
That wouldn't be "control." It would be "annihilation."
What the system wanted was sustained, controllable consolidation of power—order, structure, integration.
And so, after some thought, he came up with a solution: introducing the Falna system from Orario's world.
But unlike the blessings bestowed by the gods, the Falna he gave was a version reconstructed by his own hand.
In addition to Ability Scores, there was one core rule:
Those who receive my blessing will have their strength remade by me, and their fate shall be mine to command.
In other words, it was an enhanced version of the Falna system.
Once branded with the Falna Engraving, not only would their growth be tied to Ryota, but their very right to live—and even their free will—would belong to him.
While in the Naruto world, shinobi didn't grow through abstract things like Excelia or Level Ups, the power Ryota was granting wasn't just a numerical status—it was something far more potent.
So, from Setsuna's perspective, the instant the markings appeared, a warm current surged through his limbs. His Chakra began flowing with unprecedented ease, and he could feel a strange power slowly expanding inside him.
"I… this is…"
Setsuna's voice was hoarse, laced with shock.
Ryota looked at him and said slowly:
"This is my gift to you."
"Accept it, and your limit will no longer be the Three Tomoe, nor even the Mangekyō Sharingan."
"It could even be… the Rinnegan."
Looking down at the countless pairs of eyes filled with fear and astonishment, Ryota continued:
"From now on, you can perform the Falna Engraving in my place."
"If I did each one myself, I'd die of exhaustion sooner or later."
"Though you won't need to cut your finger—just place your palm on their back."
At his words, the hall broke into another wave of murmurs. Instinctively, all eyes turned to Setsuna, their gazes filled with hesitation, doubt, and an uneasy wariness.
Then Ryota's tone suddenly shifted:
"Oh, and—"
"Everyone is required to receive it."
"Anyone who refuses—just kill them."
The moment those words fell, the hall seemed to grow even colder.
The corpse of the white-haired elder from earlier was still lying there, not yet cold. Everyone knew the boy would not repeat himself, nor issue a verbal warning.
Refusal meant death.
"Yes!"
Setsuna nodded heavily.
"I understand, Lord Ryota!"
It wasn't flattery, nor an attempt to curry favor—it was submission from the depths of the soul.
From the moment Ryota's blood merged with him and branded the Familia seal, Setsuna had lost the possibility of defying him.
This was not genjutsu, nor brainwashing—it was a reconstruction of the very logic of his soul.
From that instant onward, his existence revolved around a single core:
To carry out Ryota's will.
He could no longer feel fear, nor hesitation—only excitement and a burning sense of purpose.
Ryota cast a glance at Uchiha Fugaku, still standing there dumbfounded, and his expression twisted with open disdain.
"Pathetic."
…
Konoha Village, central district.
A towering red cylindrical building rose here, its imposing presence overlooking the entire settlement.
It stood like a silent totem, the very symbol of Konoha's highest authority.
This was the hall every shinobi dreamed of setting foot in, the pinnacle of countless careers—and also the invisible heart that kept the village's political machinery running.
Even the shinobi patrolling outside the building weren't ordinary guards, but elite operatives selected and tested from the ANBU.
At this very moment, inside the Hokage Tower's conference room—
Four elderly figures sat around a round table, each with a different expression.
At the head sat an old man in the Hokage's robes.
Sarutobi Hiruzen's eyes were lowered, his gaze deep and unreadable.
He looked like nothing more than an aging villager—yet in truth, he was the man who had ruled Konoha for decades.
Directly across from him sat Shimura Danzō, eyes closed as if resting.
Beside him were two elders with solemn expressions—Mitokado Homura and Utatane Koharu.
Konoha's power structure had always been complex.
By Hiruzen's generation, with the postwar structure firmly in place, there were many matters he could no longer decide alone.
After a long silence, shrouded in drifting smoke, Hiruzen finally spoke in a slow, measured voice:
"…The great clans."
He paused, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the others.
"What is your opinion… on wiping out the Uchiha?"
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