The city was restless tonight. Gotham's skyline was painted in smog and neon, its shadows alive with whispers of crime and retribution. Itachi walked calmly, the night breeze tugging at his cloak. Then, the familiar ding of the system echoed in his mind.
Quest Unlocked:Defeat a major young hero — Dick Grayson, Robin.Reward: 80% template completion.
Itachi exhaled slowly, almost tiredly. "So, this is what it comes to…"
He didn't hunt Robin. Gotham did that for him. The boy wonder appeared from the rooftops like a blur of color, cape billowing, acrobatics flawless. Robin landed before him, twin batons spinning in his hands, his youthful voice sharp.
"You. You're the one Batman warned me about."
Itachi said nothing, only tilted his head slightly. Crimson eyes gleamed under the hood.
The fight began instantly. Robin was fast, trained by the Dark Knight himself, his movements crisp with martial discipline. But to Itachi, it was child's play. His taijutsu was fluid, an art honed by war itself. Every strike Robin threw was countered, every flip predicted. A kick sent him sprawling, a chop disarmed his baton, a sweep put him flat on the ground.
Robin gasped, struggling to rise—only to be met with a single seal.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu."
The Great Fireball roared forward, heat washing over the rooftop. Robin was thrown back hard, his cape smoldering as he collapsed unconscious. Itachi stood over him, his breath even, his heart unshaken.
The system's voice chimed again:
Template Progression: 80% Unlocked.Access Granted: Fourth Stage Susanoo.Genjutsu: Apathetic Tier — illusions beyond perception.Sharingan: Greatly enhanced.Chakra reserves: +50%.
The power surged into him like a storm. His vision expanded, his chakra felt bottomless, his very soul sharpened into a blade. He saw it then—the skeletal arms of his Susanoo looming in the void, the Totsuka Blade and Yata Mirror within reach. He could feel the sheer invincibility pressing at his fingertips.
And in that moment, a sobering thought struck him.
"This is what Itachi could have been," he whispered, looking at his own hands. "Without illness… without sacrifice… he would have been a monster. And now…"
He clenched his fists. The truth was undeniable. He was becoming that monster.
Around him, Gotham slept unaware that a child with the power to crush nations now walked its streets. Even Batman, even the Justice League—none of them had yet seen what he had become.
And he was only at eighty percent.