Chapter 26: Fortunately, There Is a Way Out
For more visit and support
Patreon.com/47Roninz
The forest whispered with the rustle of leaves as Orochimaru moved like a phantom between the trees. His pale cloak rippled behind him, his serpentine body weaving through the shadows in perfect silence. To a casual observer, it might have seemed like any other day — the sun high, the sky clear, the forest alive with the hum of insects and the distant calls of birds.
But Orochimaru felt it long before he reached his destination.
The warmth of the sun above seemed… hollow. Its rays fell upon him, yet the light carried no heat, no comfort. The air grew thinner, the forest quieter, until the sounds of life themselves seemed to retreat from some unseen boundary. His golden eyes narrowed, the faintest trace of unease coiling in his chest.
And then he saw it.
The edge of Raizen's domain.
A wall of silence stretched before him — not a literal wall, but a curtain of dim, suffocating stillness. It was as though a sheet of frosted glass had been placed across the world. Beyond it, the air shimmered faintly with frost, and snowflakes drifted slowly downward despite the cloudless sky.
Orochimaru's tongue flicked across his lips, tasting the air. Cold. Sterile. Dead.
He stepped closer, the sunlight behind him growing faint as though the domain itself swallowed light. It wasn't simply shadow — no, this was worse. Light itself was being devoured, its reflection and refraction lost, leaving only a murky gloom. Even from the edge, Orochimaru could see bodies inside: animals, insects, plants, all frozen mid-motion, their energy drained to nothing. They stood preserved like statues, yet lifeless — even the bacteria that should have decomposed them could not survive.
This was not merely cold. This was consumption.
For once, Orochimaru's expression was grim.
"So… they weren't exaggerating after all."
He had thought Nagato's words carried the usual melodrama of Akatsuki's "Kami of the New World" act. But standing here, the truth pressed on him like a heavy hand. This was no mere jutsu. This was annihilation.
He muttered to himself, voice almost a hiss: "If this domain expands without limit, then this planet's future is already written… a world of statues, a frozen hell, not even rot surviving…"
He imagined the Earth itself shrouded in this silence, the oceans gone still, forests reduced to black husks, even the air stilled into glass. The thought almost made even him shiver.
Still, a flicker of relief crossed his eyes as he studied the strange horizon. "Fortunately… it hasn't reached absolute black body levels yet. If it had, not even light would escape. Then even the legendary Sage of Six Paths himself, if he ever truly existed, would be unable to pierce through and glimpse Raizen within."
The thought was almost amusing — a mythic god brought low by physics itself. Yet the humor faded quickly. Even Nagato with the Rinnegan, even Madara Uchiha in his prime — all would be helpless here.
Orochimaru clicked his tongue. "Turtles that live long enough may become gods… and yet, what of men who become disasters?"
He crouched, hand brushing the frost-hardened soil. His mind worked furiously. The Mangekyō Sharingan had never been spoken of in legends as a world-ending weapon. Yet Uchiha Raizen had warped it into something beyond reason. This wasn't a kekkei genkai anymore — this was a natural law rewritten by a single man.
And that unsettled even Orochimaru.
Still, he would not risk himself carelessly. He had seen what became of Jiraiya. His eyes gleamed as he raised his hand and summoned a shadow clone. The copy looked back at him with the same cold golden eyes, then without hesitation, stepped forward into the domain.
The results were immediate.
The clone lasted mere seconds before its body unraveled, chakra streaming from it like vapor sucked into a vacuum. It didn't burst or dissolve — no, the process was clean, surgical. Its structure was drained away until nothing remained, and Orochimaru received… nothing. No memories, no sensations, only emptiness.
His tongue flicked. "Interesting. So thorough it leaves no trace, not even memory feedback…"
He created another clone, this time instructing it to retreat the instant it felt the drain. The clone leapt inside, chakra surging out of it at a terrifying rate, and barely scrambled back before collapsing into smoke.
This time Orochimaru staggered as the memories hit him. His clone's chakra had been pulled as though a river dam had shattered, impossible to control, unstoppable. The sensation was one of drowning, being squeezed hollow by invisible hands.
He exhaled slowly. "So… even with preparation, it is inevitable. A true vacuum for chakra. No matter what measures are taken… one cannot resist."
He considered the possibilities. A physical body might last longer than a clone, but the principle remained the same. Chakra flowed out like blood from an open wound. Jiraiya's fate made sense now. Even if one were to crawl, the further in you went, the weaker you became — until you were nothing but another statue in Raizen's growing graveyard.
The corners of Orochimaru's lips curled into something between a sneer and a grimace. "Nagato, Zetsu… for once, your panic was not misplaced. This is indeed troublesome."
And then, like poison surfacing in his thoughts, another name came to mind.
"Shimura Danzo…"
Orochimaru's voice dripped with venom. "All of this because of your meddling. You attacked the Uchiha clan out of arrogance and paranoia, and in doing so, you birthed something far worse than anything that clan alone could have achieved. You're dead now, rotting in the dirt — and yet you've dragged us all into the grave with you."
He laughed softly, but it was devoid of amusement. "Poetic, isn't it? The so-called Darkness of Konoha snuffing out not just the village, but the world itself."
His gaze returned to the horizon where snow drifted endlessly.
Still, he was not a man who surrendered to despair. Orochimaru's eyes narrowed, and a sly smile curled his lips.
"Fortunately… there is still a way out."
Nagato and the others had spoken of their ark, their salvation hidden within Obito's Kamui dimension. Orochimaru was no fool; he knew Zetsu's silver tongue and Obito's secret motives. But survival… survival was always worth dirtying your hands for.
Better to hide within that twisted space and emerge later than to stand proudly and die meaninglessly.
"Even I would be helpless against this," he admitted quietly. "But if the Akatsuki's plan holds… if there is a place to retreat, then perhaps this calamity is not the end. Perhaps it is only… a reshuffling of the game board."
The forest behind him rustled faintly, but even there, the usual vibrance felt muted. It was as though Raizen's domain leached hope itself from the air.
Orochimaru turned, his white cloak swirling like the coil of a serpent, and began his retreat. His mind was already racing with plans — experiments, contingencies, the need to secure his own place aboard this so-called ark.
Behind him, the silence crept forward inch by inch, devouring another sliver of the world.
And Orochimaru, for once, felt the faintest chill that no sun could warm away.