The night air was thick with the stench of blood. Fifty Root shinobi—Danzo's carefully cultivated operatives—lay lifeless, scattered across the ground like broken dolls. Their once disciplined formation was nothing but a ruin, their weapons rusted red with their own spilled life.
Indra Uchiha stood at the center of it all, his chest rising and falling with slow, heavy breaths. His Sharingan gleamed like burning embers in the darkness, casting a crimson glow upon his pale face. His black hair swayed slightly with the faint breeze that carried the iron tang of slaughter.
Each drop of blood at his feet seemed to echo louder than the silence that followed, until even the shadows recoiled from him.
His blade dripped with crimson, but what was far more terrifying than the corpses littering the ground was Indra himself.
The boy—no, the figure—who stood in that field of death was not just human anymore. His aura was warped, twisted, suffocating. A demonic hunger radiated from him, one that could not be concealed.
And he felt it.
He felt the pounding rhythm of his own heart, the intoxicating high of battle, the overwhelming thrill of extinguishing lives as if they were mere sparks. His bloodlust surged like a storm, spreading across the battlefield in crashing waves.
Indra blinked once. For a moment, he almost startled himself. Why… why do I like this so much? Why does this feel… natural?
But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't care. The sensation of cutting down Root shinobi, one after another, filled his veins with fire. It felt like destiny, like the very path he was meant to walk.
At that moment, Indra didn't resemble a shinobi. He resembled something far darker. His silhouette against the moonlight was that of a reaper—a god of death. His eyes, red as the abyss itself, glowed like torches in hell.
Danzo Shimura, who had watched the entire slaughter unfold, unconsciously stepped backward. His hand trembled slightly beneath his cloak, though he clenched his cane tightly to mask it.
The elder had witnessed countless scenes of carnage in his lifetime. He had seen war, betrayal, and massacres. Yet this—this was different.
The aura emanating from the boy standing before him was beyond human. It was cold, absolute, merciless.
Danzo's heart raced, though his lips twisted in defiance. Impossible. He's just a child. Just another Uchiha.
But deep inside, he knew.
This was no ordinary Uchiha.
Indra turned his gaze slowly, his Sharingan glimmering like molten gold-laced scarlet. First, his eyes drifted to the broken form of Itachi, lying unconscious on the ground. For a moment, his expression softened—only slightly. Then, his gaze shifted, locking directly onto Danzo.
"Danzo…" Indra's voice was low, yet it carried like thunder across the battlefield. "Now it's your turn."
The words cut through the night air like a blade, chilling everyone who heard them.
Danzo scoffed, though his jaw tightened. He tried to mask the unease gripping his chest.
"For you…" he said slowly, his voice edged with disdain, "my two subordinates are more than enough."
He lifted his hand. Two figures appeared beside him, stepping out of the shadows with fluid precision.
Fu Yamanaka.
Torune Aburame.
The two most trusted members of Root. Danzo's final shield. His hidden blades.
Fu stood calm, his eyes sharp, his posture perfect. His presence was like still water, unshaken, cold.
Torune, beside him, radiated menace. His entire body was hidden beneath special high-collared clothing, gloves concealing his deadly touch. Yet the faint hum of the nano-insects within him could almost be felt by those nearby, a constant reminder of the silent death crawling beneath his skin.
Indra's gaze narrowed. Recognition flashed across his face. He remembered them.
Fu Yamanaka. Master of the mind. A specialist of the Mind Body Switch Technique, the Mind Puppet Switch Curse Technique, and the art of mental domination. Danzo's spy and interrogator, loyal to the end.
Torune Aburame. Carrier of the nano-sized poisonous insects, more lethal than any venom. A touch of his skin could rot flesh, crumble cells, erase life in moments. He alone was a walking plague, feared even within the Aburame clan.
The memories of his past life played in Indra's mind like a second vision. He knew their abilities, their strengths, their weaknesses. He knew how dangerous they were—not as mere shinobi, but as Root's most perfected weapons.
Yet instead of fear, a wild grin spread across his face.
"Interesting…" he muttered. "So the rats finally send out their fangs."
The two Root operatives stepped forward in unison, their synchronization perfect.
Fu's cold voice broke the silence.
"Danzo-sama. We will eliminate him."
Torune's voice followed, deeper, steady.
"Even an Uchiha cannot withstand our combination."
Their tone was emotionless, free of hesitation. Their loyalty to Danzo was absolute.
Indra raised his blade slightly, the moonlight catching its bloody edge. His Sharingan spun faster, burning with delight.
"Come, then."
The ground quivered as the battle began.
Fu's hands formed rapid seals, his chakra sharpening to a razor edge. His eyes locked onto Indra, waiting for the perfect moment to strike with his Mind Body Switch Technique.
Torune, meanwhile, moved like a shadow. He advanced swiftly, his gloved hands poised to make even the faintest contact with Indra. If he could land a single touch, the nano-insects would swarm, tearing apart Indra's cells from the inside.
Indra dashed forward, his speed blistering. His Sharingan tracked every movement, predicting each step, each twitch of their muscles. His blade slashed at Torune in a blinding arc—yet Torune twisted his body with inhuman reflexes, avoiding the strike by inches.
In that instant, Torune's hand reached out, brushing the edge of Indra's sleeve.
A faint sizzling sound filled the air. The fabric began to disintegrate where Torune's glove made contact, eaten away by the invisible swarm of nano-insects.
Indra's eyes gleamed. He leapt backward, severing the infected fabric instantly with his blade, letting it fall. Sparks of chakra flared around him as he steadied his stance.
"So… touch alone is death."
Torune said nothing, his silence more menacing than any words.
Fu suddenly stepped forward, his fingers weaving signs. His eyes glowed faintly.
"Mind Body Switch Technique!"
A stream of chakra surged outward, a piercing invisible thread aimed directly at Indra's consciousness.
But Indra's Sharingan spun violently. His eyes locked onto Fu's.
"Too slow."
He twisted his body, letting the chakra pass him by, and lunged forward. His blade flashed toward Fu's neck—only to be intercepted at the last second by Torune, who thrust his arm into the path, forcing Indra to retreat lest he be touched.
The air crackled with intensity. Each second stretched like an eternity.
Indra exhaled slowly, his lips curving upward.
"This… this might actually be fun."
The dance of death had only just begun.
The battlefield was silent for a few seconds after Danzo's words. Only the faint dripping of blood from Indra's sword echoed in the night air. Then, Fu and Torune stepped forward, their presence sharp and disciplined.
Fu's gaze locked on Indra with the calm scrutiny of a hunter waiting to strike. Torune adjusted the bandages around his hand, the faint hum of his kikaichū insects audible if one listened closely. Together, they stood not as mere shinobi, but as Danzo's personal shields — Root's most loyal and dangerous weapons.
Indra exhaled once, tightening his grip around the hilt of the Kusanagi sword. He raised it slightly, the blade pointing down at an angle, his body posture relaxed yet prepared to strike at any moment. His sharp eyes darted between the two Root elites, reading their movements before they even began.
"Come," Indra said flatly, his tone void of arrogance, filled only with the certainty of victory.
Fu moved first, faster than the eye could comfortably track. His body blurred as he closed the distance, aiming for Indra's blind spot with a sharp kunai slash. At the same time, Torune extended his hand, unleashing a swarm of nano-sized venomous insects that spread through the air in a wave, threatening to consume Indra's flesh on contact.
Indra pivoted sharply, his sword flashing like a streak of silver. He parried Fu's kunai with perfect precision, the clash ringing out. Without hesitation, he rotated his wrist, sliding the blade forward in an attempt to cut through Fu's arm. Fu twisted at the last second, narrowly avoiding a crippling wound, but the edge of the Kusanagi still grazed his sleeve, shredding the fabric.
The insects swarmed closer, a black haze of death hovering in the air. Indra retreated two steps, his movements calculated and efficient. He adjusted his breathing, gauging the swarm's spread and Torune's control. With a sudden burst of speed, he lunged sideways, swinging his sword in a wide arc. The sharp wind pressure generated from his swing scattered part of the swarm, forcing Torune to withdraw and redirect the insects before they were sliced apart.
Fu pressed forward again, his hands forming quick seals. His pupils dilated unnaturally, and Indra felt a faint pressure press against his consciousness — the signature of the Yamanaka clan's mind infiltration technique. Fu's intent was clear: seize control of Indra's body, even for a second, to create an opening for Torune's insects to finish the job.
But Indra's eyes sharpened, his mental willpower cutting through the intrusion like steel. His chakra flared violently, rejecting Fu's attempt. With a cold glare, Indra advanced, his sword slicing downward with lethal precision. Fu dodged, rolling to the side, but the blade cleaved through the ground where he had just stood, sending a crack through the dirt.
Torune took advantage of the moment. His insects surged forward again, surrounding Indra from multiple angles like a suffocating net. Their speed was overwhelming, their poisonous nature even more so. One touch could rot flesh and chakra alike.
But Indra did not falter. He stepped into the swarm instead of retreating, his sword flashing in continuous arcs. His kenjutsu was merciless — every swing clean, every motion efficient. The insects were cut down in clusters, their black bodies scattering lifelessly to the ground. Torune gritted his teeth; his swarm regenerated quickly, but even he knew his opponent's precision was extraordinary.
Fu returned at Indra's flank, striking low with another kunai, aiming to disable rather than kill. Indra sidestepped, his sword turning in a rapid counter-thrust that grazed Fu's shoulder. Blood spurted, and Fu hissed, but he forced himself to stay composed.
The battle intensified. Fu attacked with relentless feints, quick and unpredictable, while Torune manipulated his swarm to pressure Indra from every angle. Together, they worked seamlessly, a two-pronged assault designed to suffocate their opponent.
But Indra was unshaken. His movements grew sharper, his reactions faster, his control absolute. He flowed between defense and offense effortlessly, his blade cutting through insects, steel, and even the air itself with ruthless precision. Each clash between him and Fu rang with sparks, the sound of steel meeting steel reverberating through the night.
At one point, Fu attempted a direct strike at Indra's throat, only for Indra to tilt his head slightly and let the kunai pass harmlessly by. His counter came instantly — a slash aimed at Fu's abdomen. Fu barely twisted away, but not without cost; the blade grazed deep enough to leave another bleeding wound.
Torune tried to cover him, sending a concentrated swarm at Indra's legs to immobilize him. But Indra leapt high into the air, twisting mid-motion, his sword spinning in his grasp. He descended like a falling spear, his blade striking the ground with explosive force. The shockwave scattered the insects once again, forcing Torune backward.
Danzo watched from a distance, his expression grim. Even his two most loyal guards, warriors he trusted above all others, were being overwhelmed. Indra was fighting with nothing but his sword and kenjutsu — no ninjutsu, no Sharingan illusions, no elemental techniques — yet he was still dominating.
Fu panted lightly, blood dripping from his wounds, but his eyes remained focused. He exchanged a brief glance with Torune, their silent communication clear. They couldn't underestimate him; this boy was no ordinary Uchiha.
Torune adjusted his stance, chakra flaring as more insects poured from his body. They gathered around his arms, forming dense clusters, their venomous hum filling the air. Fu steadied his kunai, preparing for another close exchange.
Indra simply smirked, the Kusanagi gleaming under the moonlight, stained with the blood of his enemies. His eyes scanned them both, calculating, unshaken. His breathing was steady, his steps unwavering, his posture that of someone who had already decided the outcome.
The fight wasn't over.
It was only just beginning.
Fu tightened his grip. Torune readied his swarm. Indra lifted his sword.
The second round was about to begin.
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End of Chapter
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