As Fugaku murmured softly, the three tomoe within his crimson Sharingan once again converged, forming that eerie spiral pattern.
It was as if space itself had been torn open.
A massive swamp-like vortex materialized out of thin air in midair—over a hundred meters in diameter.
At its center lay pitch-black darkness, while its edges churned with thick, viscous mud.
The sea of fire that blotted out the sky collided with this enormous vortex.
Yet there was no deafening explosion.
No sound of flames scorching or evaporating the sludge.
Instead—
glup… glup…
Like some unseen beast drinking deeply.
And with that grotesque sound, the boundless inferno was swallowed whole, vanishing without a trace.
“…What… what kind of jutsu is this?”
On the city wall, Shikaku Nara’s pupils shrank.
His reaction mirrored that of most of the shinobi present.
But the one who truly understood what was happening… was the Mist shinobi within the marketplace—Ao.
Through his Byakugan, he could see it clearly.
The chakra from the flames, once absorbed by the vortex, was flowing through an invisible channel—directly into Fugaku’s body.
That was why Fugaku now glowed with a molten, golden-red light, as if lava itself surged beneath his skin.
…Would he explode?
For a fleeting moment, Ao couldn’t help but think so.
“Susanoo!!!”
Fugaku’s roar shattered that thought.
The world trembled.
Golden-red chakra erupted from his body, condensing and shaping itself in the air.
Massive ribs burst forth from the ground, forming a colossal cage that enveloped Fugaku, Mikoto Uchiha, Mei Terumi, along with the Uchiha clan and Mist forces behind them.
Then came the spine… the shoulder blades… the skull…
Flesh and sinew spread across the skeletal frame.
Finally—
Armor.
Dark golden armor covered the upper body of the Susanoo, its surface etched with crimson patterns that flowed like molten lava.
Its towering form resembled a fortress—larger even than the walls of the Mist marketplace.
“…So this… is the true power of the Mangekyō?”
Mei gazed upward, unable to suppress her awe.
The Mist had records of Susanoo, but records were one thing—witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely.
“I… I’m seeing it for the first time too…” Mikoto whispered.
High above, within the Susanoo’s head, Fugaku looked down upon everything like a king surveying his domain.
“Fugaku, are you alright?!”
At last, Mikoto couldn’t hold back her concern.
“I’m fine.”
His voice rumbled like distant thunder, yet the satisfaction within it was unmistakable.
In truth, if not for maintaining his composure, he might have burst into the signature, almost manic laughter of the Uchiha.
After all—
Everything he had planned had led to this moment.
He had gambled.
The ability of his Mangekyō—Yomotsu Shokufu—allowed him to devour enemy techniques and convert them into chakra.
The stronger the enemy’s jutsu, the greater the chakra he gained… and the stronger his Susanoo would become.
That was why he provoked Danzo Shimura.
If the gamble had failed, his Susanoo would have been no more than a skeletal ribcage—like the incomplete form Sasuke Uchiha first used.
Against an army of this scale, it would have meant nothing.
But now—
Thanks to Danzo’s fury—
He had reached the third stage.
A form comparable to the Susanoo seen when Itachi Uchiha battled Sasuke and sealed Orochimaru… yet even larger, even more solid.
And this… wasn’t just for show.
Suspended at Susanoo’s side—
A massive blade.
His weapon.
The Blade of the Underworld Mire.
Like Itachi’s Totsuka Blade and Yata Mirror, it possessed a unique ability—
One that would decide everything.
On the wall, Danzo stared at the towering Susanoo, veins bulging on the hand gripping his cane.
He understood.
Far too well.
This was power he had seen before—on the night of the Uchiha massacre.
But this… was on another level.
Larger.
Denser.
Equipped with its own weapon.
In simple terms—
He had been played.
The provocation… the rage… the forced use of combined jutsu…
All of it had been part of Fugaku’s trap.
“Danzo-sama… shall we prepare a second combined jutsu?”
A Root jōnin asked quietly.
Danzo’s eye turned cold.
“…Do you want to make it even bigger?”
Silence.
If they attacked again, it would only feed him more chakra.
And then?
They’d be facing something rivaling the Nine-Tails in sheer scale.
“No.”
Danzo made his decision instantly.
“Form up.
Regroup.
Withdraw.”
Experience spoke louder than pride.
This massive Susanoo had a flaw—
It couldn’t move.
And the larger it was, the more chakra it consumed.
So why fight it now?
Wait until his chakra runs dry—
Then strike.
Under Danzo’s command, the shinobi leapt down from the walls, reorganizing into five detachments and retreating in different directions.
But then—
“Since you’re already here…”
Fugaku’s voice echoed like thunder from the heavens.
“Why not stay?”
The Susanoo moved.
Its right hand gripped the hilt.
With a low, heavy sound—
The blade was drawn.
But what emerged was not steel—
It was a flowing, wave-like mass of black mire.
“The Blade of the Underworld Mire…”
Fugaku whispered.
Then—
He drove it into the ground.
BOOOOOOM—!!!
The earth shook violently.
The entire eastern coast of the Land of Whirlpools trembled—
As if a natural disaster had descended.
Hundreds of black geysers erupted at once.
From beneath the earth, thick, tar-like sludge burst upward, like countless deathly springs suppressed for a thousand years finally finding release, surging toward the retreating shinobi of Konoha.
One chūnin dodged again and again, barely avoiding several attacks, but in the end, the sludge splashed across his body.
He stared in horror as the black substance spread rapidly, hardening like fast-setting resin—first encasing his calves, then his thighs, his torso… and finally his face, frozen in terror.
The entire process took less than three seconds.
A living man became a black statue, locked forever in a pose of desperate struggle.
“Earth Style: Earth Flow Wall!”
“Water Style: Water Formation Wall!”
Some higher-level shinobi attempted to resist with ninjutsu, but the moment their chakra-based techniques touched the sludge, they were devoured completely.
Even those who tried to use chakra to isolate their feet from the ground soon realized, to their horror, that the chakra they gathered beneath them was also being drained away—and because that chakra remained connected to their bodies, even their internal reserves were siphoned off.
Once their chakra was gone, their bodies went limp.
Then… they too became statues of mud.
This wasn’t a battle.
It was a massacre.
Konoha’s elite forces could execute perfect combined jutsu on the training grounds and carry out coordinated tactics with flawless precision, but in the face of something that defied all known rules—something that ignored conventional defenses—every ounce of their training and experience became meaningless.
Even the jōnin could do nothing but struggle.
“Get to me!!”
Suddenly, Choza Akimichi roared.
His body expanded instantly, swelling into a massive form like a small mountain, before he slammed down onto the ground.
Several sludge geysers were blocked beneath his bulk.
But in the next instant, the black mire began climbing over his body.
Within a few breaths, the mountain-like figure became nothing more than a giant mud statue.
And his sacrifice… bought almost nothing.
He had blocked the geysers beneath him, but more erupted from all directions—stronger, faster—like a fruit bursting open under pressure, its juices spraying everywhere, engulfing even the shinobi standing atop him and turning them into statues alongside him.
In the blink of an eye—
Only two people remained able to move on the battlefield.
One was a white-haired young ninja.
Beneath his mask, one eye gleamed crimson.
In the years following the Third Great Ninja War, he had risen to prominence as the Copy Ninja—Kakashi Hatake.
With the help of the Sharingan that once belonged to Obito Uchiha, and his mastery of Lightning Release, Kakashi barely managed to survive until now—but he was already gasping for breath.
The burden of the Sharingan was not something he could ignore.
The other—
Was Danzo Shimura.
Compared to Kakashi, he seemed almost composed, not even a speck of dirt on his clothing.
His Wind Release wasn’t directly countered by the sludge.
The mire devoured chakra—but not the effects produced by it.
Wind Release manipulated the air itself, and between the sludge and chakra, there remained that thin, crucial layer of air.
“Danzo-sama… what do we do next?”
Kakashi arrived at his side.
Though he belonged to the Anbu, Danzo was the commanding authority here—his orders had to be followed.
“Kakashi.
I order you to retreat.
Take this information back to Hiruzen.”
“…You’re not coming with me?”
“Carry out the order.”
Danzo’s voice was calm—utterly devoid of emotion.
At the same time, he raised both hands.
Two shuriken spun rapidly between his fingers, instantly infused with an immense amount of chakra.
The surrounding air currents twisted violently, sharpening into blades.
The shuriken shot forward with a piercing howl.
Wherever they passed, sludge, ground, and geysers alike were torn apart, carving out a narrow path—
A path of survival for Kakashi.
“…!”
With a flash of lightning, Kakashi dashed through the opening, escaping the reach of the mire.
Danzo watched him go, then turned back toward the distant Susanoo.
Compared to before, it had already dimmed considerably, its form beginning to fracture.
As expected.
After all, that massive construct had been fueled by the chakra of a thousand shinobi—it was never purely Fugaku’s own power.
But that didn’t diminish the truth.
On a battlefield, Uchiha Fugaku was almost invincible.
At the very least, no enemy army would ever dare use a combined jutsu against him again.
“The Uchiha… truly terrifying potential…”
Even as an enemy, Danzo couldn’t help but acknowledge it.
One man had annihilated an army of a thousand.
One man had pushed him—the “darkness of Konoha”—to the brink.
Of course… he could still escape.
But suddenly—
He didn’t want to.
Not for righteousness.
Not for duty.
Simply to prove one thing—
That back then, he had only been a single step too slow.
That in his entire life…
He had never been inferior to anyone.
Now, with the Uchiha joining the Hidden Mist all but certain, by the time Konoha’s main forces arrived, they would already be beyond reach, back in the Land of Water.
So the only thing left—
Was to kill Fugaku.
Without him, even if the Uchiha entered the Mist, they would be fragmented, divided, unable to rise again for many years.
It wasn’t a perfect solution.
But it was the best he could do.
And he did have a chance.
Though it would cost him his final trump card.
At last—
The massive Susanoo shattered.
The surging mire subsided.
Silence descended upon the battlefield.
All around lay Konoha’s shinobi, transformed into mud statues, frozen in expressions of terror, resistance, or futile defiance.
The entire army—
Gone.
Except for one man.
Danzo Shimura stood alone at the center of the battlefield.
The wind whipped his dark robes, snapping loudly.
There was no anger on his face.
No fear.
Even his usual gloom had faded, leaving only a cold, absolute calm.
Then—
He moved.
No hand seals.
No shout.
No hesitation.
He simply tapped his cane lightly against the ground—
And in the next instant, his figure vanished like an arrow released from a bow, becoming a blurred shadow as he charged straight toward the marketplace, his speed completely at odds with his usual frail demeanor, carrying an unstoppable, almost suicidal resolve.
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