In a place unknown to the shinobi world—
A vast underground cavern lit by flickering candlelight.
At its center sat an old man, his white hair like withered grass, his body hunched and shriveled to the point of resembling a skeleton, leaning against a cold stone throne.
Deep wrinkles carved across his face, his skin clinging tightly to bone, tinged with the ashen gray of one on the brink of death.
This was the once-legendary figure, long thought dead—
Uchiha Madara.
"Haa…"
The sound of his breathing echoed like a broken bellows in the silent cavern.
Madara's sunken eyelids trembled faintly.
Then—
They slowly opened.
Revealing a pair of blood-red, three-tomoe Sharingan.
Despite being set in such a decayed and dying face, the moment those eyes opened—
The cold, sharp will within them, as though piercing through time itself—
Drove away the surrounding decay and deathly stillness.
Even the darkness seemed to stiffen.
The three tomoe rotated slowly, reflecting the flickering firelight, carrying a trace of satisfaction—and something distant, almost nostalgic.
His body was indeed on the verge of collapse.
Thick white tubes extended from his frail limbs, connecting him to the darkness behind.
There, barely visible, loomed a colossal shadow—
A massive statue, blending into the cavern walls.
Ancient.
Oppressive.
The Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
Summoned by the Rinnegan he had already removed, it sustained his dying body, feeding him life through those tubes.
Madara let out a low, pleased sound—
As if savoring the aftermath of battle.
His gaze seemed to pierce through stone and distance—
Watching the eastern battlefield unfold.
He saw—
The emerald Susanoo towering into the heavens—
The Mangekyō controlling a Tailed Beast—
The perfectly synchronized pair, like wings of a bird, defeating his puppet.
After a long while—
His cracked lips curved slightly.
Not quite a smile.
More a mix of memory, judgment—
And faint interest.
"The new generation of Uchiha…"
"…not bad."
"I wonder, when the end arrives…"
"Will you still be standing?"
"If so… perhaps we may dance once more."
On the battlefield—
He had seen familiar faces.
Uchiha Setsuna.
Uchiha Honoka.
Old subordinates—
Changed by time.
Setsuna's blade was faster, deadlier—less madness than before.
Honoka's strikes were heavier, steadier—his past impatience tempered.
As for the younger Uchiha—
They were strangers.
Over thirty years had passed since he left the clan.
All the noise, the bonds, the faces of the past—
Had long since eroded into dust.
What remained—
Was not people.
Not relationships.
Not memories.
Only—
That ideal.
A truth beyond clans—
Beyond villages—
Beyond fragile peace and false prosperity—
The ultimate answer.
The Eye of the Moon.
A world without loss.
Without pain.
A dream where every person lives their most perfect happiness.
What could be wrong with that?
His crimson eyes closed—
Then opened again—
A sharp light flashing within them.
"Hashirama…"
"Wait."
"The flawed reality you built with your own hands…"
"I will correct it."
"Piece by piece."
His voice carried decades of emotion—
Nostalgia.
Anger.
Defiance.
And excitement.
"Then I'll beat you properly."
"That day… is coming soon."
His thoughts settled.
"White Zetsu."
The rock wall beside him rippled—
A pale humanoid figure emerged.
"Madara-sama~"
White Zetsu spoke cheerfully.
"What is it?"
"…How is Obito?"
"Oh, that kid~"
White Zetsu tilted its head.
"Still training underground. Keeps mumbling about wanting to see Rin."
"His progress is decent. Combat ability is acceptable. Sharingan control is improving…"
"But he's still not 'qualified.'"
"Mentally, he's still impulsive."
"Should we… speed things up? Maybe cause an 'accident' for Rin?"
Madara fell silent.
The rise of Infinity City.
The power of the new Uchiha.
Kirigakure's defeat.
The board was shifting.
Perhaps—
It was time to adjust.
Let Obito see the world early.
Let him witness loss—
Even if not yet his own.
Then—
At the moment of his greatest happiness—
Let despair fall.
"…No."
Madara spoke coldly.
"Release him."
"…Eh?"
White Zetsu blinked.
"Now? Where to?"
"Do nothing unnecessary."
"His strength is enough to survive."
"Follow him."
"Do not interfere unless necessary."
"Observe."
"When he meets… certain people…"
"Coordinate with Black Zetsu."
"Understood~"
White Zetsu grinned.
"Let the pawn move on its own, huh?"
"Also—"
Madara added—
"Spread the news of this battle."
"Let me see… how the shinobi world responds."
"Got it, Madara-sama!"
White Zetsu disappeared.
Silence returned.
Madara sank back into shadow.
Only his Sharingan flickered in the dark.
"Obito… everyone…"
"…will be happy."
…
Land of Earth — Iwagakure.
Deep night.
Ōnoki sat under dim light, reading a report.
The lines deepened on his aged face.
"…Call Kurotsuchi. No—call Kitsuchi. Now."
Moments later—
Kitsuchi arrived.
He read the report—
And froze.
"Impossible…!"
"Kirigakure… annihilated?!"
"Seven Ninja Swordsmen—dead?!"
"Mei Terumī—captured?!"
"Third Mizukage—killed?!"
"Elder Genji—surrendered?!"
Ōnoki added grimly—
"Two Tailed Beasts… controlled by the Mangekyō."
Kitsuchi inhaled sharply.
This wasn't a battle.
It was annihilation.
"…Uchiha are this strong?"
"That no longer matters."
Ōnoki stood.
"After this battle… their strength rivals peak Konoha."
Silence fell.
Then—
Orders were given.
"Maintain pressure."
"Recall Rōshi."
"Contact Sunagakure."
"We move."
"Yes!"
…
Land of Wind — Sunagakure.
Dawn.
The Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, read Ōnoki's proposal.
An alliance.
To divide Konoha.
He stood in silence—
Then walked into the underground puppet factory.
Rows upon rows—
Endless mechanical soldiers.
Cold.
Efficient.
Mass-produced.
Powered by the Dragon Vein.
An army that did not tire.
Did not fear.
Did not die easily.
His eyes gleamed.
"With this…"
"Konoha… is nothing."
"The entire shinobi world…"
"…will belong to Sunagakure."
He turned.
"Send the reply."
"Sunagakure… accepts the alliance."