"That's your plan, Madara?"
Obito's gaze darkened as he absorbed the explanation. The dim light caught the crimson spirals of his Sharingan.
"There is nothing wrong with it. Only this method can truly transform this false world."
Madara rose unsteadily, pressing his palm against White Zetsu's form beside him. Black fluid surged forth, swallowing half the creature's body in moments.
"I've infused my will into this one—a copy of me. A flawed one, naturally."
"Nagato Uzumaki in the Land of Rain. I've left my eyes with him."
"Go. This is the first step."
"And take White Zetsu with you. I have no further use for them."
---
After Obito departed, silence reclaimed the underground cavern.
Madara settled into his wide chair, his aged face tilted toward the darkness above, expression unreadable.
"Come out," he commanded.
His voice cut through the gloom like a blade.
"Worthy of an Uchiha. You truly detected me."
Applause crackled through the stone chamber. A figure emerged from the floor itself—silver fluid coalescing into humanoid form, viscous and deliberate.
Madara fixed his single Sharingan on the stranger with obvious caution.
"I've sensed prying eyes before. White Zetsu found nothing." His eye narrowed. "But you—you're something else. Similar to White Zetsu, yet entirely different."
The figure laughed.
"Is this why you sent everyone away? Because you know I only reveal myself when I choose?"
Madara said nothing.
"Who are you? What are you?"
"Ultraman."
The word hung in the darkness, delivered with absolute sincerity.
Madara's frown deepened. He'd never heard of such a shinobi in all his years. "Ultraman? You speak in riddles."
"Your vision is too narrow, Madara." The figure's tone carried amusement. "The shinobi world consumes all your attention. But have you ever considered what lies beyond this planet? Beyond the stars themselves?"
The silence that followed was heavy with revelation.
Madara had long since confirmed the world was spherical, yet never once had he looked upward.
"What does this matter?" Madara's voice was cold. "The Infinite Tsukuyomi will succeed. The world will achieve eternal peace."
"Ridiculous." The figure stepped closer. "You need to understand history better, Madara. Beyond the stars exists a clan called the Otsutsuki. This Earth is merely soil where they plant their Divine Tree. Your Infinite Tsukuyomi—it's only a wedding gown for them."
Madara's eye flashed. Something clicked into place. "Explain."
"The M78 Nebula lies three million light-years distant. It is my home. We Ultramen have always fought the dark forces of the universe. The Otsutsuki are among our enemies."
The figure's voice grew harder. "They search countless worlds, planting Divine Trees everywhere they look. Those worlds become wastelands. Nothing survives."
"The Divine Tree is born from the Tailed Beasts. Once Nine-Tails is sealed within the Outer Path Golem, resurrection begins."
Madara's jaw tightened. "You came to stop me."
"Misunderstanding." The figure spread his hands. "I believe we need not conflict. In fact, cooperation serves us both. Chaos begets new order. From destruction, perhaps a wholly new world emerges."
The figure spoke with conviction. His true plan: transform this planet into a base for striking back at the Otsutsuki. Madara's scheme could accomplish the first half beautifully.
Madara's eye narrowed to a slit. If this creature wouldn't submit to words, then action would suffice. His skeletal Susanoo materialized—a colossal arm of bone and energy crashing downward.
The figure vanished.
He reappeared across the cave, his eyelids twitching. Madara had no patience for negotiation—one eye or not, he was lethal. This avatar, however, couldn't match the body's true strength. The gap was significant.
But electromagnetic mastery had deepened lately. He could fight the old man.
Nanoparticles within him vibrated at catastrophic frequencies, energy building like a storm. He crossed his arms defensively.
"Specium Ray!"
A laser burst erupted—brilliant, devastating. Madara's face remained calm as Susanoo expanded violently, bones and muscle forming an impenetrable shield. The impact drove him back several steps. Cracks spiderwebbed across Susanoo's armor, yet the Uchiha's expression held something like excitement.
"Excellent! Ninjutsu can achieve such power. You've managed to stir my spirit." His laugh was wild, breathless. "Before I dance into death, dance with all you possess!"
The figure's eye twitched. Dance? Even now? Susanoo was keeping Madara animated—the old man was held together by sheer stubborn will.
Fine. If Madara wanted to burn out completely, he'd oblige.
Hands slammed into stone.
"Wood Release: Iron Tree Realm!"
Black metallic branches erupted from the cavern floor like a forest of thorns, surging toward the center with predatory grace.
"Wood Release?" Madara's laugh grew manic. "No, yet similar. I am burning now! Dance! Dance!"
Madara's eyes blazed red as Susanoo's arms formed into lightsabers—ancient weapons cutting through black branches. They fell severed, only to regrow in seconds, wrapping tighter, climbing higher. Within breaths, Susanoo was engulfed, surrounded.
A rear pipe—one not covered by Susanoo's bulk—was pierced clean through.
"Damn it!" Madara gasped. His oxygen tube. The kid had unplugged his oxygen tube.
Madara sealed the wound with urgent focus and poured everything remaining into his mouth. Chakra surged from depleted reserves.
"Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!"
Inferno erupted—a tidal wave of flame that consumed the entire underground chamber in white-hot rage. Without his direct control, Susanoo fractured. Black branches pierced through, their scorching metal puncturing deep into flesh and bone.
The fire faded.
Madara collapsed into his chair, trembling, gasping. Metal branches protruded from his body. His chakra was spent—only the barest thread of life remained.
The figure had vanished again.
Madara's pale, ruined face held a smile.
"Heh... good. Very good."
"Surely Madara-sama isn't upset?" A playful laugh echoed behind him.
Madara's entire body went rigid.
The figure emerged from the earth itself, steadying Madara's crooked form with a hand on the chair's back.
"Don't be angry with the elderly. There's no one to carry your corpse otherwise."
Madara's right hand trembled, reaching toward the figure.
The figure caught it and placed his other hand on Madara's chest.
"You are a relic of the old era, Madara. The new world has no place for you."
Madara's laugh was hollow, broken. "A relic. How fitting."
"When I rise again, when we meet once more... it will be interesting..." His voice faded. His eyes remained open, glinting with that eternal arrogance, even as life departed.
The figure exhaled slowly. Even dying, Madara had demanded everything. A legend deserved respect.
Using electromagnetic manipulation, he pulled particles from the cave walls, fashioning a coffin around Madara's corpse. The body might prove useful. Obito could not be allowed to have it.
His electromagnetic senses swept the cavern. No White Zetsu remained. This battle would stay secret.
With a subtle pulse of force, he erased the damage, scattered the evidence. Nothing would hint at what had transpired here.
Next came his true work.
On Konoha's side, his main body would shepherd the Hyuga transformation—a slow engulfing of the five shinobi villages. Contingencies required laying. Weak points needed exploitation.
---
Land of Rain.
Unlike the timeline that might have been, Nagato Uzumaki had known Yahiko's death earlier, had darkened sooner. Now he stood with Obito—the masked man pretending to be Madara—imagining futures of power.
"The Akatsuki is small," Obito said coldly. "We must recruit. You're capable enough for this task."
"Hmph! Do you take me for your subordinate?"
"A fair exchange."
White Zetsu's form stiffened suddenly. "Wait. Someone approaches."
They turned. Through heavy rain, a figure in black robes drew near. Slowly, deliberately, the hood fell away. A silver mask concealed the face, revealing only a pair of glacial eyes.
"My name is Zero. I wish to join the Akatsuki organization."
---
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