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Influenced by Qianyu, Madara Uchiha had lost all patience to wait for the Ten-Tails to reach its perfect state.
He would become its jinchūriki now. He would seize this legendary, primordial power said to "give rise to all creation"!
WHOOSH!
As Madara formed hand seals, the Ten-Tails' colossal form shrank in an instant, warping into a distorted shadow that slammed violently into his body.
The next moment, the two merged seamlessly, forming a grey, sand-textured egg adorned with feathers mid-air. It looked both ornate and profoundly mysterious.
"Madara Uchiha, you stubborn old bastard," Qianyu's voice cut through the tension. He appeared beside the shattered Four Crimson Ray Formation, looking up at the grey feathered egg with a glint of cunning in his eyes. "I told you, explicitly and implicitly. And you didn't listen to a single word, did you?"
He chuckled. "But this is fine. Better, actually."
He'd gone to all this trouble, gathered all these people, for this exact reason—to stop Madara from collecting all the Tailed Beasts and guide him toward becoming an imperfect vessel for Kaguya.
"What's happening?! The blue giants from before… they're all gone!"
"That ten-tailed monster vanished too… Wait, where's Madara Uchiha?!"
"Look! That grey egg in the sky! What is that? Why does it feel… like I shouldn't even look at it?"
With the enemy's sudden disappearance, the battlefield descended into brief chaos. The assembled shinobi stared at the bizarre object in the sky, whispering nervously.
Qianyu was the only one who knew what was really happening. He'd read the script.
"THE OLD MAAAAAAAAAN—!"
Jiraiya's voice, raw with grief, ripped through the air, snapping Qianyu from his thoughts. Damn, for a second there, the tone almost made him think it was Shikamaru crying for Asuma.
"Qianyu," Jiraiya leapt down from his toad, his voice trembling as he cradled the bloodied form of Hiruzen Sarutobi. "I know you and the old man had your… disagreements. But he did this for the village. Can you… can you save him?"
Don't let Orochimaru's sickly sweet "Lord Sarutobi" fool you. Of the Sannin, the one with the heaviest heart was always Jiraiya, the one who called him "old man" to his face.
The Jiraiya of twenty years later might have accepted Hiruzen's death. But the Jiraiya of now? He couldn't.
Hashirama and the others arrived beside Qianyu.
"Boy." Tobirama glanced at his unconscious student in Jiraiya's arms. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his stoic eyes. "Save him. I know you can."
Hiruzen might have been a disappointment in many ways, might have done things that made Tobirama's lip curl… but he was still his student.
"Since you both ask, how could I refuse?" Qianyu nodded slightly. Honestly, Hiruzen's self-sacrificial move had actually shifted his opinion of the old geezer a bit. Saving him wasn't a problem.
Haa… but my new dōjutsu has a limit—twenty, thirty uses a day, max. Wasting one now means my odds of winning drop by a fraction.
Hiruzen's wounds were worse than the Raikage's or Tokiwa's. His chest was nearly split in two. With Madara likely to emerge any second, saving Hiruzen meant relying on his newly acquired ocular power.
"Then… Izanami!"
Under the confused gazes of Tobirama and Jiraiya, Qianyu stood perfectly still. His eyes widened, fixing on the dying Hiruzen. The black tomoe within his irises spun into a furious, complex pattern.
[Izanami: Consumes ocular power to reset a target's state. Cost varies with injury severity. Upon complete exhaustion, the Sharingan temporarily reverts to Three Tomoe.]
SHWOOP!
Hiruzen jerked upright from Jiraiya's arms, his body reversing in a rapid rewind, snapping back to the position he was in just before Madara's attack. Jiraiya stared, dumbfounded.
Simultaneously, the pool of blood on the ground unraveled into thin crimson threads. They danced in the air, spiraling before weaving back into the gaping wound on Hiruzen's chest. The horrific injury sealed itself shut before their eyes.
"This… this is…!" Jiraiya and Hashirama gaped. Only Tobirama remained composed, stroking his sharp jawline with a thoughtful look.
"A healing-type dōjutsu? Similar to the Uchiha clan's Izanagi… or Izanami?"
Ding! [Rescue successful. Congratulations, host, on acquiring the Aura: 'Hope of the Village'!]
['Hope of the Village': Recognized by the past Hokage, you have undoubtedly become the hope of the entire village. As long as Konoha stands, you gain a +10% permanent boost to all attributes.]
"Holy shit. An unexpected windfall!"
Qianyu's eyes went wider than when he'd used the dōjutsu. At his current level, even a 5% boost to a single stat was a qualitative leap. A permanent 10% to everything?
This isn't just a small win. This is stratospheric. The old geezer actually dropped loot this good?
Then again… he basically was the ceiling for non-reincarnation cheat characters. The undisputed strongest 'Hokage' in history.
Good. My ocular power increased by 10% too. My odds of resisting the Infinite Tsukuyomi's light just went up another notch.
"Qianyu… you saved me?" Hiruzen's voice was weak, his gaze complex as he looked at the young man. "Thank—"
"Save it for later, Third Hokage." Qianyu cut him off, his senses already pulling his attention skyward. "We have a bigger problem now."
CRACK.
In the brief moment they'd been talking, the grey feathered egg shattered. Its fragments dissolved into streams of grey light that cascaded downward.
Amidst the falling radiance, a powerful figure stood as if carved from divinity. Waist-length white hair. The sage's robes of the Six Paths. And behind him, six black orbs—Truth-Seeking Balls—floated in perfect formation.
The Ten-Tails Jinchūriki. Or rather… Six Paths Madara.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU SEE, QIANYU?" Madara looked at his hands, savoring the overwhelming power coursing through him. His laughter, brimming with confidence, echoed across the entire battlefield. "This magnificent power answers to me alone! Your tales of 'outsiders' are fiction! Everything is proceeding exactly as I planned!"
Even among these elite shinobi, chosen from across the world, faces paled. The pressure Madara emitted now felt alien, terrifying, belonging to another dimension entirely. It was a suppression they felt in their very bones… a difference in life form itself.
"Hehehe… Foolish Madara." From a shadowy corner at the edge of the battlefield, a dark, lumpy head emerged from the ground. It watched the triumphant figure in the sky with a grotesque smile. "Still so pleased with yourself. You are nothing but a vessel for Mother's revival."
"Mother can return at any moment now. Qianyu… Isshiki Ōtsutsuki… just wait to become her nutrients."
…
"How are we supposed to fight a monster like that? He's on a completely different level!"
"Hey! This is no time for defeatist talk! We haven't even tried yet!"
"He's right! With the past Hokage here, we still have a chance!"
Across the field, shinobi tightened their grips on their weapons, holding their breath. Their eyes were locked on Madara Uchiha, defiance burning even in the face of impossible odds.
"I believe in Qianyu." Fugaku's firm voice rose from the Konoha ranks, his gaze fixed on the young man's back. "He has created miracles every step of the way. I believe he will lead us to victory this time, too."
"Yeah. I'm with you on that." Another voice, just as certain, chimed in.
Fugaku turned, surprised. A Kirigakure shinobi with a massive sword slung over his back grinned back at him, sharp teeth on full display.
…
After several minutes of triumphant laughter, Madara Uchiha ignored everyone else. He floated down until he was directly above Qianyu.
"Boy," he declared, his voice echoing with divine authority. "As my thanks… I will personally weave you a 'perfect' dream later." He emphasized the word perfect.
"You know, Madara," Qianyu said, utterly unaffected by the oppressive aura. His voice was calm. "The last person who tried to weave my fate died. Horribly. Not even ashes remained."
"Oh? Is that so?" Madara's lips curled into an amused smile. As a Ten-Tails Jinchūriki, he was invincible. He could afford to play. "And how, pray tell, do you intend to stop me, bearer of the Six Paths' power?"
"With this… how about it?!"
Qianyu smiled back. He crossed his arms over his chest. The chakra within him roared to life, surging like a raging river, a tangible whoosh of power audible as it blasted through the internal gates restricting his body.
"BURN! EIGHT GATES—EIGHTH GATE: GATE OF DEATH, OPEN!!"
With Qianyu's furious roar, a torrent of crimson steam erupted from every pore. It stained his jet-black hair a violent shade of blood-red.
He stood wreathed in flames—not literal fire, but the intense, burning aura of released life force. Veins, glowing like embers, mapped his entire body.
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