Behind him, white tubes protruding from the ground wriggled constantly, as a massive amount of life energy was pumped into Madara's body from the Gedo Statue.
His ancient white hair even began to turn black, and his hunched body straightened once more. The aura of death and decay dissipated, replaced by a sharp, piercing spirit forged through a lifetime on the battlefield.
"Let's go. I can't wait any longer. I was restricted the last time we fought, so today I must teach that youngster who doesn't respect his elders a proper lesson." Madara crushed the tubes behind him and crouched slightly. Then, with the rock shattering beneath his feet, he soared into the sky.
The hollowed-out island groaned under the immense force. Fissures spread across the boulders before they crumbled and collapsed under the onslaught of the sea, vanishing into the endless spray of foam.
"Hey, you Konoha brat... you Uchiha, what on earth are you planning?" the patriarch of the Kaguya clan shouted toward Makiya.
He was a towering, burly man. The Kaguya clan's Kekkei Genkai was perfectly suited for taijutsu, and combined with the warlike nature hidden in their genes, every member of the clan was hot-tempered, prone to violence at the slightest provocation.
Faced with Makiya's sudden intrusion, the Kaguya patriarch was already struggling to suppress his urge to fight.
By now, Mei Terumi had been woken up by her companions. She stood in the corner, glaring huffily at Makiya. She was still brooding over being taken down in a single glance, believing it was only a moment of carelessness. She felt that if she had been prepared, she would never have fallen for Makiya's Genjutsu.
The young girl was just as hot-tempered. Possessing two Kekkei Genkai, she had always crushed those her own age and outplayed her seniors. Having suffered such a setback, she hadn't quite adjusted her mindset yet.
"Keep your hair on. The person controlling you will be here soon," Makiya said, waving a hand to signal them not to be so impatient.
"The person controlling us?"
"That Uchiha hiding his face?"
"A rat hiding in a gutter playing tricks dares to show himself openly before us? Don't make me laugh..."
Another massive boom drew everyone's attention. The man who had just been mocking Madara was now lying peacefully in a deep pit, his face buried in the dirt. A mysterious figure encased in a white shell stepped onto his back.
*Crack!*
Madara applied a bit of pressure with his foot, and the Mist ninja's head smashed like a ripe watermelon, red and white matter splashing everywhere.
"To be able to break my Genjutsu... Makiya Uchiha, have your eyes already reached that realm?" Madara ignored the Mist ninja beneath him as if he were walking through a deserted land. He stood on high ground, looking down at Makiya with his arms crossed.
Due to his height, the nearly five-foot-nine Madara ostensibly didn't care about his stature, yet he always preferred standing on elevated spots to look down whenever he spoke to others.
"No, it's just that your Genjutsu is too weak. I broke it with just a little effort. There's really no technical skill involved," Makiya said, shaking his head. He acted as if the old man lacked experience and only had brute strength, solving everything with reckless force.
"My Genjutsu is weak?" Madara laughed in anger. "Back in the day, when I roamed the ninja world—"
"A hero doesn't dwell on past glories," Makiya interrupted his self-praise. "People who always talk about how great they used to be are usually losers now. You're all alone and quite pitiful, aren't you? Is that why you use Genjutsu to control so many people? Just to play house with you?"
"Vile brat! You dare speak to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am?" Makiya's words stung Madara's heart. His three-tomoe Sharingan spun rapidly as a massive amount of ocular power mixed with chakra erupted, forming an immense pressure.
Faced with the sudden, heavy pressure, the Mist ninja behind Makiya fell to their knees with a thud. Their arms trembled as they struggled to support themselves on the ground, their bodies shaking like sifting bran as cold sweat poured down.
"Who... who exactly is this person?"
"Damn it, how many people must one kill to develop such killing intent, such an aura... Is he a demon?"
"Why are the two Uchiha fighting? Aren't they family?"
"Shut up! Don't draw their attention. Let's get further away."
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the surrounding Mist ninja retreated quietly, leaving the center of the island to Makiya and Madara. A battle between top-tier powerhouses was terrifying, and they didn't want to be the unlucky ones killed by the shockwaves.
Some ninjas, confident in their own strength, didn't go far. They intended to watch the struggle from a close distance, harboring their own little schemes. If they could launch a sneak attack while both sides were wounded, then...
"I know exactly who you are." Makiya stood with his hands on his hips. "After you ran away last time, I've been investigating your identity in secret. Hard work pays off, and I've finally figured it out!"
"Oh?" Hearing this, Madara suddenly wasn't in a hurry to strike. "Then what did your investigation yield? Who exactly am I?"
Makiya rubbed his chin and spoke slowly. "Capable of Wood Style, harboring deep hostility toward the Uchiha, familiar with the Sharingan, old and aged, possessing a massive amount of chakra, and clearly a famous figure in your youth who likely faked your death to hide and stir up trouble in the shadows... Your identity can't be hidden anymore!"
The watching Mist ninja widened their eyes. They too desperately wanted to know who this masked man was.
"Hmph, is that all the intel you have?" Madara was a bit disappointed. He thought Makiya might have captured more crucial information.
No matter. After all, he had been gone for too long; the ninja world had forgotten his legend.
"That intel is enough." Makiya sneered. "You skulking coward, you are... Tobirama Senju! Right?!"
"That's right, I am indeed... wait..." Madara nearly lost his breath, almost dying of pure rage right then and there. "What Tobirama Senju?! I'm not that bastard! I am Madara Uchiha!"
"Moron, you can't even tell a good lie. If you're Madara Uchiha, then I'm Tajima Uchiha." Makiya curled his lip and spoke deliberately. "Anyone can transplant a Sharingan, but Wood Style can't be faked. You naturally evil Senju ghost, you actually thought you could trick me by impersonating Madara Uchiha."
"Damned brat!" Madara's face darkened. He decided to punish this arrogant child and let him know that a master is always a master.
The proud Madara refused to keep hiding. While it had been a necessity before for the sake of his grand plan for world peace, he was willing to sacrifice his identity for a while. Now that the plan was proceeding smoothly, he no longer needed to hide. He immediately shed his mask, revealing a face that didn't look particularly aged.
Makiya was somewhat surprised. He had expected Madara's appearance to be much older, but he looked only sixty or seventy. Was the chakra from the Gedo Statue really that miraculous?
"Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!"
Makiya's comment about being Tobirama Senju had completely enraged Madara. His wrinkled face trembled as his hands formed signs with lightning speed. A massive amount of chakra gathered in his chest.
Madara still held the habit of traditional hand signs, while Makiya followed Hashirama's lead, clapping his hands and shouting for whatever he wanted: "Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!"
An equally massive surge of chakra erupted from Makiya. Before the jutsu even took shape, a searing heat spread rapidly. The moisture in the air seemed to evaporate instantly, and Mist ninja standing close by even found the hems of their clothes spontaneously combusting.
Mei Terumi patted out the fire on her sleeve and retreated further, her face full of resentment as she looked at the battlefield.
Two torrents of flame erupted simultaneously, sweeping forward with the force of an avalanche, turning everything in their path to ash.
The golden flames were like agile beasts, roaring as they pounced toward Madara, a dazzling golden sea of fire occupying half the sky.
On the other side, Madara's flames were just as formidable. Having grown up in an era of constant war, he was intimately familiar with this jutsu. In terms of pure mastery, he was even a notch above Makiya.
The two-colored seas of fire were clearly divided, annihilating each other where they met. Immense heat radiated outward, distorting the air and causing it to crackle and pop.
A deafening roar echoed across the entire island. The surrounding Mist ninja retreated again and again. Even just looking at the flames made their eyes sting, as if the heat were roasting the last bit of moisture out of them.
Mei Terumi fell back rapidly until her foot stepped into the seawater. Only then did she realize she had retreated all the way to the shore.
Looking at the surging sea of fire before her, a sense of powerlessness welled up in Mei's heart. The gap in strength was too vast; she couldn't even summon the will for revenge.
Although she hadn't been on the team for long, Ao was her captain. Now that he had died at the hands of an enemy, how could she easily let go of that resentment?
Gold and red intertwined and clashed, neither willing to yield. The golden flames were like a spear piercing into the red sea of fire, full of aggression, while Madara's flames were like surging waves—calm in the face of Makiya's assault, wave after wave, endless and unrelenting.
The confrontation between the seas of fire lasted for three minutes until both sides tacitly withdrew their chakra, allowing the flames to slowly dissipate.
The ground between the two was now a mass of orange-yellow molten rock. Smoldering black smoke rose into the sky, and the once-uneven surface of the island had been completely filled in by lava. Plants, tents, and other debris had all vanished.
"Not a bad Fire Style. It has the same spirit I had in my youth." Madara nodded in approval. The Uchiha had a worthy successor. Based on this Fire Style alone, Makiya was no weaker than the Madara of the past. If Makiya had been born in the Warring States period, the Uchiha would have certainly surpassed the Senju.
"From what I know, weren't you a Water Style user? Water Shockwave and all that..." Makiya made a Water Style hand sign, suggesting Madara shouldn't get too into character. He felt the 'Senju ghost' should just stick to Water Style or Wood Style.
"What a bothersome brat, still talking back even now." Madara pointed at his own face. "Look at this face. Does it not resemble the statues I left in the clan?"
Makiya put his hands on his hips and said righteously, "Give it a rest. There are no statues of Madara Uchiha in the clan at all."
Madara fell silent. He suddenly remembered that when he had called for the clan to leave Konoha with him, no one followed. In a fit of rage, he had destroyed all his own statues and taken the clan's sacred weapon, the Gunbai.
He couldn't blame the youngster for not recognizing him; they really had never seen him. Besides, the Wood Style...
Madara gave a cold laugh. "No matter. I'll just fight you until you submit."
Makiya's strength had piqued Madara's desire for battle. He fully absorbed the Gedo Statue's chakra that he had originally planned to use to extend his life. His wrinkled skin smoothed out instantly, as if he had suddenly grown twenty years younger.
This state couldn't be maintained for long; he had to settle this quickly. To better enjoy the battle, Madara discarded his original plan. He believed that Nagato and Black Zetsu wouldn't have any problems.
Nagato might have his own ideas, but Black Zetsu was a manifestation of his own will and would carry out his wishes faithfully. With Black Zetsu overseeing the big picture, Madara could discard all distractions and devote himself entirely to the fight.
This exchange with Makiya reminded Madara of Hashirama Senju. It felt like the excitement of a secret tryst with a mistress behind his wife's back—the mere thought of it was thrilling.
Makiya didn't know what was going on in Madara's head, but the rising battle intent from his opponent was unmistakable. Though the mighty warrior had aged, his majesty remained. He silently refined his chakra and stood ready.