Chapter 186: The King's Gift
Sharingan.
Even Ragnar, with all his power and experience, felt a flicker of shock at this sudden development.
The Sharingan—the bane of Tailed Beasts. In the hands of a sufficiently powerful user, even the three-tomoe form could enslave these ancient creatures. And according to everything he knew, no Uchiha were present on this battlefield. Hatake Sakumo had explicitly kept them in reserve, watching for Rain ninja movements rather than committing them to the front lines.
Yet here, in the dying body of Gōki, a Sharingan had manifested.
And something far more ominous was awakening.
*"ROOOOAR!"
Gōki's body convulsed. Scarlet chakra erupted from his pores—not in the controlled cloak of before, but in torrents. Waves of raw, primordial power flooded the battlefield, dwarfing everything that had come before.
This was not Jinchuriki transformation.
This was release.
Behind Gōki's convulsing form, a tail emerged. White. Massive. Then a second. A third. A fourth. A fifth.
*"ROOOOAR!"
The roar that followed was not human. It was not even partially human. It was the voice of something ancient, something primal, something that had existed since the dawn of chakra itself.
Gōki's body vanished—consumed, absorbed, gone. In its place, a massive sphere of white flesh began to expand. It grew and grew, swelling to impossible size until it towered over the battlefield like a living mountain.
Behind the sphere, five colossal tails thrashed and writhed, each movement causing earthquakes, landslides, rivers to reverse their courses.
Then the sphere began to shape itself.
Horns emerged—two massive, curved horns like those of a rhinoceros. A head took form, smooth and sleek, resembling a strange fusion of seahorse and dolphin. A body stretched forth, equine in its general shape, but massive beyond comprehension—seventy, eighty meters of living destruction.
And covering its entire form, a brilliant, pure white hide.
The Five-Tails. King Mu. In its complete, unfettered, true form.
*"ROOOOAR!"
The roar shook the heavens. Dark clouds gathered overhead, responding to the beast's presence. The earth trembled. Mountains in the distance cracked and crumbled. Forests were flattened by the sheer pressure of its chakra.
King Mu snorted once—just a snort—and two jets of superheated steam blasted from its nostrils, obliterating a hill in the distance as if it were made of sand.
But most terrifying of all were its eyes.
Red. Swirling. Marked with three black tomoe.
Sharingan.
In the Konoha camp, recognition struck like a thunderbolt.
"WHO DID THIS?!" Hatake Sakumo's voice was sharp, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Uchiha presence. "Is there an Uchiha here?!"
"Sir, our sensory ninja report no Uchiha chakra signatures in the area," an ANBU reported quickly. "None at all."
"Then how—" Jiraiya's voice failed him. He stared at the massive beast, at its impossible eyes, and felt something he hadn't felt in years: true, primal fear.
"A complete Tailed Beast," Orochimaru breathed, his analytical mind racing even as his heart pounded. "The only one who could control a Tailed Beast with Sharingan like this…" His snake eyes narrowed. "Uchiha Tōzan, the clan head. He has the strongest ocular power in the clan."
"The clan head isn't here!" Jiraiya protested. "He never left Konoha!"
"Then who?" Orochimaru demanded. "WHO?"
In the Iwa camp, Nōhei had collapsed completely.
"The Five-Tails… the REAL Five-Tails…" His voice was a whisper of pure horror. "How? HOW? Gōki is dead! The seal is broken! But this—THIS—"
"Lord Nōhei!" a jonin shouted, pointing. "Look at its eyes! Sharingan! Konoha—KONOHA DID THIS!"
Nōhei's face twisted with fury and despair. "KONOHA! You unleashed the beast! You'll pay for this! ALL of you will PAY!"
The Third Kazekage watched the massive creature with an expression of grim awe. He thought of the One-Tail, slumbering restlessly in Suna. Compared to this… compared to THIS…
The gap was terrifying.
King Mu's rampage began.
Without warning, a dozen searing energy bombs erupted from its form, streaking across the sky in every direction. They fell upon Konoha positions. Upon Iwa positions. Upon Suna positions.
Indiscriminate annihilation.
Explosions rocked the battlefield. Screams filled the air. Ninja who had survived the chaos of war, who had endured the terror of Ragnar's power, now fell to the mindless destruction of a true Tailed Beast.
Konoha, with its forces most intact, suffered the least—but still suffered.
Suna, with the Third Kazekage's remaining sand iron, managed to shield many of their ninja.
But Iwa—Iwa was devastated. The beast that had been their weapon, their trump card, their hope—now turned against them with a vengeance. Energy bombs rained down upon their positions, and there was no defense, no escape, no mercy.
Nōhei watched his forces being slaughtered by their own ultimate weapon and could only scream his rage to the uncaring sky.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the attack stopped.
King Mu's massive head turned, its Sharingan eyes scanning the battlefield with terrible purpose. It searched. It sought. It hunted.
Until its gaze settled on one figure.
Floating calmly above the devastation. Black robe. Dark eyes. Unwavering.
Ragnar.
"So," Ragnar murmured, his voice carrying only to himself, "someone is pulling strings from the shadows. And their target is me."
He understood now. This was not random chaos. This was directed. Someone had seized control of the Five-Tails at the moment of Gōki's death, overriding its will, bending it to their purpose.
There was only one person in the history of the ninja world capable of such a feat.
Uchiha Madara.
Other Uchiha could control Tailed Beasts, yes—but to usurp the beast's will entirely, to make it a extension of one's own purpose? That required power beyond any modern Uchiha. That required the original master of the Nine-Tails. The one who had first placed armor on a Tailed Beast. The one who had achieved true unity of man and beast.
Madara was here. Watching. Playing.
On the distant hilltop, Uchiha Madara slumped slightly, his breathing labored. The effort of seizing control of a fully manifested Tailed Beast with a body held together by will and the Gedo Mazo's life support had cost him.
But his eyes—his ancient, terrible eyes—blazed with satisfaction.
"Rakshasa," he breathed, the name a prayer and a challenge. "This is my gift to you. Show me your strength. Show me you are worthy of my interest."
"Madara-sama," Black Zetsu ventured carefully, "your health—"
"A minor concern." Madara's lips curved into a bloody smile. "This Sharingan still has some life in it. Long enough, at least, to destroy every ninja on that battlefield if the boy fails."
His gaze fixed on the distant figure of Ragnar.
"Dance for me, Rakshasa. Dance. "
Below, King Mu's massive form oriented itself fully toward Ragnar. Its Sharingan eyes locked onto him with terrible focus. Steam curled from its nostrils. Its tails lashed with anticipation.
Ragnar floated motionless, meeting the gaze of the ancient beast without fear.
"So," he said quietly, "you want to see what I can do."
The Kusanagi blade rose in his hand.
"Then watch."
(End of Chapter)
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