"Bang!"
A muffled sound echoed through the space.
"Ah…"
Sanjin Akai responded enthusiastically to Uchiha Itachi.
Itachi frowned slightly, staring at the blood blooming like a flower on Sanjin Akai's thigh. He felt insulted...
At a distance of less than ten meters, missing the mark by this much—what was going on?
Ignoring the gun barrel emitting faint wisps of smoke, Itachi landed lightly on the ground.
With a swift transformation, he donned a white trench coat.
The back of the coat bore two large embroidered characters for "justice."
At some point, a cigar appeared in Itachi's hand.
Although his small frame seemed slightly out of place, the sheer aura of dominance was undeniable.
This invisible pressure amplified his charisma to extraordinary levels.
Especially with the combination of the white shirt, vest, pants, and shoes, he resembled a mafia boss cloaked in righteousness.
Itachi felt something was missing but couldn't immediately pinpoint what it was.
…
Watching Sanjin Akai cheering in front of him, Itachi touched his chin with his delicate hand.
Suddenly, it hit him—he was missing a pair of glasses.
Removing his hand from his chin, he snapped his fingers.
A pair of black sunglasses instantly appeared on his face.
Taking out a mirror, Itachi glanced at his reflection but seemed dissatisfied.
Then, as if struck by inspiration, he snapped his fingers again.
The sunglasses transformed into a pair of platinum-framed glasses.
Examining the sleek glasses and the kaleidoscope Sharingan visible beneath the thin lenses, Itachi felt somewhat pleased.
Immersed in his own style, he vaguely heard Sanjin Akai praising his good looks…
…
At this moment, Sanjin Akai, looking pale, watched Itachi's transformation after landing.
Regret and confusion flashed in his eyes.
The pain from his injured thigh tormented him relentlessly.
Noticing that Sanjin Akai had stopped cheering, Itachi felt a bit irritated.
"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you looking down on me?"
Itachi's cold gaze locked onto Sanjin Akai, radiating an icy aura.
Especially given Sanjin Akai's taller stature, Itachi felt a pang of annoyance.
He hated looking up at others.
"Hmph, you fool!"
Despite his battered appearance and inner fear, Sanjin Akai smirked defiantly and insulted Itachi.
"You're really brave…"
Itachi puckered his lips and replied softly, either as a compliment or a taunt, while his white shoe mercilessly struck Sanjin Akai's injured thigh.
Blood gushed out.
…
"Ahhh…"
Sanjin Akai cried out in pain but quickly suppressed it, trying to appear tough.
Itachi, dressed in his refined attire, remained displeased.
If his opponent didn't cooperate, it made him look foolish.
He pondered deeply about how to crush Sanjin Akai's spirit.
But why did his thoughts drift to ropes, whips, and candles?
Itachi sneered at himself internally and shook his head lightly, dispelling the inappropriate thoughts.
As his dark humor faded, his gaze turned cold once more, restoring the commanding aura of an untouchable king.
For now, he didn't change his attire further—he was quite satisfied with his current look.
"Kneel…"
…
Itachi sat down casually as a throne materialized in the air.
Alongside it appeared several armored figures.
Upon closer inspection, their faces beneath the helmets were identical to his.
These weren't shadow clones—they were entities he had created within this space.
---
Itachi took a casual puff of his cigar, his gaze falling on Akai Sanjin, who was forced to kneel on the ground through sheer violence.
"What's one thousand minus seven?"
As Itachi smoked, a figure clad in armor—his creation—spoke in a calm, emotionless voice.
The only unfortunate thing was its lifeless expression and robotic tone, as though it lacked a soul.
Seeing this, Itachi couldn't help but feel a hint of regret.
...
As a modern individual, the Tsukuyomi realm was no longer the classic torment of killing and resurrecting the victim repeatedly.
Instead, it had transformed into a modernized amalgamation of stitched-together nightmares.
After all, modern people could take a $98 game and turn it into a $9,800 spectacle...
Though admittedly, the style had gotten a bit chaotic.
Akai Sanjin, showing his resolve, remained silent. He thought to himself that this brat was nothing special.
He had expected this genjutsu to be more advanced, but it turned out to be mediocre at best...
However, just as he refused to respond, he suddenly realized he was now sitting in a chair.
A nightmare was about to begin.
Unbeknownst to him, his outfit had somehow changed into an ancient costume.
The style was unfamiliar, but the large "Prisoner" character emblazoned on his clothes exuded a grandeur that made even modern Japanese writing feel like a derivative.
The armored executioner standing before him was also dressed in a solemn, ancient outfit, evoking a deep sense of reverence.
...
"What's one thousand minus seven?"
The emotionless voice echoed once again in front of Akai Sanjin.
Still, Akai Sanjin did not respond. In fact, there was even a hint of contempt in his eyes.
This kind of childish trick could never intimidate someone as skilled as him, a top-tier jonin.
His earlier reaction was merely due to the fear of the unknown and the initial pain he had experienced.
He resolved to endure this immature brat's genjutsu in silence from now on.
"Ah, no, please... I'll talk!"
When the scene failed to change and the intimidating figure before him picked up an unfamiliar tool and began working on his nails, a sense of foreboding crept into Akai Sanjin's heart.
The excruciating pain and the sight of someone destroying his body right in front of him made him involuntarily scream something incomprehensible.
"Incorrect answer... What's one thousand minus seven?"
Itachi quietly smoked his cigar, watching the pixelated scene unfold.
In his mind, he began brainstorming new ideas. After all, with 72 hours to fill, what would happen if visitors to the Tsukuyomi realm left bad reviews because the experience was too monotonous?
...
Akai Sanjin, staring at the strange tool now poised over another one of his nails, felt his scalp tingle.
Despite all his rigorous training, he had never encountered such cruel methods.
"Nine hundred ninety-three..."
Sensing that the executioner was about to act again, Akai Sanjin finally broke down and gave an answer.
"Too late..."
The monotone voice rang out once more.
The pain that followed caused Akai Sanjin to cry out in agony, involuntarily echoing the executioner's cadence.
"What's ten thousand divided by one hundred twenty-seven point three two?"
As Akai Sanjin mentally calculated what nine hundred ninety-three minus seven equaled, the executioner's next question made his pupils constrict.
"What the hell?!"
A curse slipped from his mouth instinctively.
"Incorrect answer..."
...
...
Looking at his first customer, whose eyes were now empty and who sat paralyzed in the chair, Itachi stroked his chin thoughtfully.
The guy seemed a bit numb at this point...
With no new brilliant ideas coming to mind, Itachi stood up, feeling a bit bored.
He decided to find something else to do.
After all, there was still plenty of time left in the 72 hours.
Better to leave this unsuitable-for-children scene alone, lest it affect his mental well-being.
...
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