Far outside the Uchiha compound, the battle had already reached a critical point.
Several Root operatives were gasping for breath, their movements slowing as exhaustion set in. Opposing them was a large force of Uchiha clan members, surrounding them layer upon layer, leaving no path of escape.
Individually, the Root ninjas were elite. Each one possessed exceptional combat ability, trained in assassination and covert warfare. But this—this was not their battlefield.
They were forced into open combat.
And worse—
Their opponents were Uchiha.
Facing the Sharingan head-on was already a nightmare. Every feint, every hidden trick, every deceptive move they relied on—became meaningless the moment those crimson eyes opened.
Under the gaze of dozens of Sharingan, nothing could be hidden.
Nothing could succeed.
Even escape had become impossible.
Aburame Ryoma stood among them, his expression hidden behind dark glasses, but his eyes had long turned grave.
He was young, yet already one of the most outstanding members of the Aburame Clan—which was precisely why he had been chosen by Danzo Shimura to join Root.
But here—
His strength felt insufficient.
His insect techniques, usually silent and lethal, were completely exposed under the Sharingan. His taijutsu couldn't compete either—not against Uchiha enhanced by predictive vision.
Worse still—
The Uchiha weren't fighting recklessly.
They moved in coordination.
Supporting each other.
Covering blind spots.
Leaving no openings.
It was clear from the very beginning—
This wasn't a coincidence.
They had been waiting.
The Uchiha had anticipated Root's involvement and prepared a countermeasure in advance.
But that made no sense.
Root was supposed to be a secret organization, hidden personally by Danzo himself. Even within Konoha, very few truly understood its existence.
So how—
How did the Uchiha know?
A traitor?
Ryoma's gaze subtly shifted toward the man beside him—the one wearing a grotesque demon mask.
There had been rumors…
That Orochimaru had once fought alongside Uchiha Ryujin against Hanzo of the Salamander.
Comrades, at least for a time.
And earlier—
During the chaos—
Orochimaru had clearly held back.
The more Ryoma thought about it—
The more something felt wrong.
"Everyone, stop resisting."
A calm voice suddenly cut through the battlefield.
One of the Uchiha leaders—a middle-aged ninja—stepped forward, his tone steady but firm as he addressed the Root operatives.
"We have no intention of killing you."
His gaze lingered briefly on Ryoma.
"The Aburame Clan is one of Konoha's founding families. There's no need for us to destroy each other like this."
The implication was clear.
This fight—
Was pointless.
But the man continued.
"Our objective is simple—we're only here to hold you in place."
He paused, then added with quiet certainty:
"By now… our clan leader has already killed Danzo."
Silence.
Even behind their masks—
Shock rippled through the Root operatives.
Danzo…
Dead?
Impossible.
To them, Danzo was more than a leader.
He was the root of Konoha itself.
The foundation.
The one who shaped their existence.
How could someone like that—
Be killed?
Especially by someone—
Not even twenty years old?
Most of them rejected the idea instantly.
But one person didn't.
The man with the demon mask.
Orochimaru's pupils narrowed slightly, a strange light flickering within them.
If there was anyone here who could believe it—
It was him.
Because he had seen it.
He had witnessed—
How Ryujin erased Hanzo's summon in an instant.
And if that same power—
Could be used again…
Or worse—
If it worked on humans—
Then Danzo…
Would stand no chance.
Orochimaru's breathing slowed, his mind racing.
He had spent countless hours trying to analyze that ability.
Breaking it down.
Understanding it.
But no matter how he approached it—
It made no sense.
It defied logic.
Defied ninjutsu.
Defied everything.
Which meant—
There was only one conclusion.
That power—
Was beyond conventional understanding.
And if that was true…
Then staying here—
Was no longer wise.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile formed beneath his mask.
Perhaps…
It was time—
To prepare an exit.
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