The trait was undergoing a metamorphosis.
Within Fanma’s mind, the characters twisted and coalesced, agonizingly slow yet inevitable.
A new ability was being forged.
He reflected on his life: his ascetic childhood spent wrestling with tigers and leopards, training under gravity that crushed heavier with each passing year.
His first kill, meticulously dissected to learn the most efficient methods of ending a life.
The moment he truly grasped the intrinsic connection between body and soul.
And the first time he had shattered an opponent’s ninjutsu with his bare hands.
These countless experiences converged in his mind, colliding and fusing.
As they did, his aura sharpened, becoming infinitely more dangerous.
Simultaneously, a frigid, viscous energy seeped from his eyes—a special catalyst synthesized by stripping away the ocular power and specific properties of the Sharingan.
This energy poured into the forming characters, staining them with an ominous, foreboding hue.
The trait gradually shifted from black to grey, then violently erupted into a bewitching, red.
Predator’s Malice!
Predator’s Malice: The Predator Realm emits a vast quantity of blood-qi.
When you lock onto a target, the enemy experiences overwhelming malice and existential dread, causing severe psychological and physiological disruption.
Enemies within the realm are continuously drained of energy by the blood-qi until death.
In the assembly hall, the clansman seated next to Fanma gasped sharply, an unspeakable wave of anxiety and sudden exhaustion washing over him.
A ninja’s senses are exquisitely sensitive, almost neurotic, making them uniquely susceptible.
Fanma slowly opened his eyes and cracked a cruel, predatory smile.
The sensation reminded him of a game from his past life… a Dungeon crawler.
Berserker!
Fanma unleashed the Predator Realm at maximum output.
The entire clan compound was instantly plunged into a gloomy, heavy atmosphere.
Blood-qi coiled through the air like thick fog, instilling an instinctual, unknown terror in everyone present.
Weaker clansmen began hallucinating their own memories of imminent death.
Their minds could no longer retain rational control; their chakra reserves drained away uncontrollably, like water bursting through a dam.
Even Setsuna felt the sickening wave of anxiety and agitation.
He stood up, his brow furrowed in deep alarm.
Whoosh.
Almost every Uchiha present activated their Sharingan, scanning the vicinity defensively, desperately searching for the source of the blood-qi.
The most tense among them already had their hands formed in seals, ready to strike.
“Fanma-senegal…
Have you achieved another new insight?” Fugaku asked, his crimson eyes wide, staring at Fanma in sheer disbelief.
Fanma rose slowly.
As he stood, the blood-qi retracted into his body, strand by strand, bringing with it a substantial influx of recovered chakra.
“Hahahahaha, forgive the unsightly display, everyone.” Fanma laughed heartily.
“I am the type to train anytime, anywhere.
I lost control of a new technique for a moment.
My apologies for the disturbance.” “Now then, if you’ll excuse me.” He offered a casual, shallow bow to the room and strolled unhurriedly toward the exit of the meeting hall.
“Well…
that is a monster of a man,” muttered Tekka.
“Indeed.
Fanma-kun is truly a monster,” added Yashiro.
Several talented young Uchiha, who had initially resented Fanma’s eccentric behavior—viewing his abandonment of the Sharingan as a betrayal of the clan, a heretical clown—had shifted their perspective entirely as they watched his strength grow.
Now, they secretly idolized him.
“Enough!
You are Uchiha; look at yourselves!” Setsuna barked, clearing his throat to regain some authority.
“The rest of you must continue to train relentlessly.
Whether we are opposing the Hokage’s faction or revitalizing the Uchiha, strength is paramount!” “The clan meeting is adjourned.
Dismissed!” The clansmen filed out in twos and threes.
Setsuna remained, his expression grave as he replayed Fanma’s display in his mind.
A chaotic storm raged within him.
A monster has arisen within the clan…
A killing intent that can affect Uchiha even with their Sharingan active…
What terrifying power.
Setsuna wiped the cold sweat from his palm, sighed, and walked slowly toward the Uchiha archives.
Ancestor Madara, in all the records you left behind, did you ever document a taijutsu ninja of this caliber?
Konoha, Gourmet Street, Yakiniku Q.
A blond-haired boy was furiously working his chopsticks over a grill.
“Ah…
juicy grilled pork belly over a bowl of white rice is truly paradise…” he mumbled.
“Mmhmm, and wash it down with an ice-cold orange soda.
Yakiniku Q, Banzai!” Opposite the blond boy, a young red-haired girl stuffed her cheeks like a squirrel, chewing aggressively.
“What a perfect day.
It would be absolutely flawless if Fanma-sensei didn’t make me train this afternoon…” “Hmm?…” An inexplicable wave of panic seized him.
The blond boy’s face stiffened as he realized his mistake.
A large hand descended quietly onto the top of his head, scrubbing his hair violently.
“Yo, my foolish student, Minato.
Is this your girlfriend?” PFFT!!!
The red-haired girl, Kushina, spat her orange soda across the table.
Fanma chuckled, pinched Minato with two fingers, and lifted him into the air, shielding himself from Kushina’s projectile “attack.” “What is wrong with you, Fanma-sensei!
You could have just dodged!
You’re so fast!” Minato complained, wiping soda from his face.
“You can call me strong, little Minato, but never call me fast.” Fanma grinned, deftly grabbing a slice of grilled beef with his chopsticks and signaling the waiter.
“Bring us thirty more plates of honey-glazed beef ribs, twenty orders of grilled chicken wings, and five buckets of rice!” The restaurant owner, Akimichi Akimichi, shouted back enthusiastically.
“Ohhh!
Mr.
Fanma is here!
Please wait just a moment!” Fanma happily snatched Minato’s chopsticks and began a merciless demolition of the meat on the table.
Minato pouted and poked Fanma in the arm.
“Teacher, I’m the only one on our team right now.
You aren’t seriously going to take me on missions alone, are you?” Fanma shrugged, chugged a bottle of orange soda, and grabbed a pair of chicken wings.
“Don’t act like taking care of an idiot like you is easy work, kid.
If I get another student dumber than you, I might not be able to handle it.” Minato huffed.
“I was top of the graduating class, you know!” He continued, “Lord Jiraiya wanted me to be his apprentice, but I refused!
I’m still pretty great!” Fanma flicked Minato’s forehead.
“Don’t act like you weren’t crying when I took you out for your first real meal at age five.” “Forget Jiraiya.
The village is holding an Elite Jonin selection exam the day after tomorrow.
Watch closely how your teacher deals with him!” Minato’s eyes lit up, and the “little pepper,” Kushina, looked over curiously as well.
“Elite Jonin,” Fanma continued between mouthfuls.
“When you strip it down, they’re just Jonin.
But since a war might break out soon, the various proud members of the Jonin squad need to be ranked beforehand to avoid command issues later on.” Minato blinked.
“Teacher, can I go watch?” The little pepper raised her hand as well.
“Kushina wants to go watch, too!” Fanma sized them up, having finished the freshly served meat and rice in a blur of speed.
“It wouldn’t hurt you two to see it.
Meet me at the Hokage Tower at eight o’clock the day after tomorrow.
I’ll take you inside.” Fanma stood up, dropped a stack of money on the table, and left a final sentence trailing in the wind: “Alright, my foolish students, the master is going to train.
You stay here and entertain your little girlfriend.” Watching Fanma vanish as if using Body Flicker, Kushina ignored the tease and asked excitedly, “Who is this uncle?
He looks so cool!” Minato wiped his face, looking slightly exasperated.
“He’s my sensei, and also my big brother.
He’s looked after me since I was little; we’re very close.” “He was just promoted to Jonin a few days ago and is now my jounin instructor!” Minato added, “But don’t let his unserious demeanor fool you.
In my heart, he is the second strongest person in the village, right after the Hokage!” Kushina pinched her chin, curious.
“This uncle looks pretty strong, but he’s just a newly promoted Jonin.
You don’t think he’s going to make a fool of himself the day after tomorrow, do you?” Minato suddenly patted Kushina on the head.
“It’s alright.
Don’t you worry.” He beamed.
“Come on, let’s go get ice cream.
We can’t waste the money Sensei gave me!” Kushina’s face turned beet red at the unexpected head pat, and she stammered, “Th-then let’s go…” Minato felt a surge of triumph.
His teacher was always right!
When pursuing a girl, as long as you are willing to spend the money and lower your pride, you are already halfway to success.
Minato silently cheered himself on.
Ganbatte!