Three days had passed since Kabuto's attack on the village.
Three days of constant tension, reinforced patrols, and worried glances exchanged in the streets of Konoha. At the insistent advice of the White Council, Tsunade had convened a meeting of the Five Kage. This was no longer a local crisis, nor even a conflict limited to the elemental nations—the war that loomed concerned the very future of Arda itself.
In a desperate attempt to prevent another catastrophe, the Hokage recalled all shinobi currently on missions. Officially, this was to force them to rest and undergo intensive training in preparation for what was to come. Unofficially, she feared that some of them might already be marked by an unknown influence.
But amid this turmoil—within the noise of military preparations and endless strategic meetings—no one immediately noticed the disappearance of several young people from the village.
Root Base
What had once been the secret headquarters of Root was now nothing more than a sacrilegious slaughterhouse.
The walls still seeped with dried blood. The bodies of Danzō's former agents, mutilated beyond recognition, littered the floor in grotesque positions, frozen in their final moments of terror. Here, even death itself seemed unwilling to grant peace.
At the center of the chamber, the floor had been entirely covered with ancient ritual symbols, traced with manic precision. A gigantic eight-sided polygon occupied nearly the entire room, every line perfectly aligned, every rune carved with care. The blood of Danzō Shimura had served as ink, by deliberate choice. This place, already saturated with hatred, manipulation, and suffering, formed an ideal nexus for a ritual of such magnitude.
Eight blackened wooden pillars stood at each vertex of the polygon. A ninth—larger and more imposing than the rest—rose at its center.
Bound to this central pillar was Naruto Uzumaki.
His body was covered in complex sealing marks, engraved directly into his skin. Though unconscious, his chakra struggled weakly, like a beast trapped inside a cage that was far too small.
On four of the eight outer pillars were bound other familiar faces: Chōji, Shikamaru, Ino, and Sai. All were unconscious, kept alive by seals designed to prevent both resistance… and premature death.
Khamûl stood at the edge of the polygon, inspecting each symbol with obsessive care. The slightest flaw—the smallest imperfection—could doom the ritual, or worse, render it uncontrollable.
Three other Nazgûl entered the chamber, dragging behind them an unconscious Kiba Inuzuka, carried without ceremony like a mere burden.
Chains rattled as they secured him to a fifth pillar.
Khamûl approached one of his brothers, his low voice echoing like a funeral bell.
"Has the White Council noticed our movements?"
"No," the Nazgûl replied without emotion. "They are too occupied with the convocation of the Five Kage and their plans against the usurper."
An unseen smile seemed to pass through Khamûl's shadow.
"Good. Bring back the remaining sacrifices."
He turned toward the central pillar—to the young jinchūriki.
"We will perform the ritual tonight."
In the darkness of the abandoned base, something ancient and terrible seemed to stir… as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Akatsuki Hideout
The hammering never ceased.
Deep beneath the earth, at the heart of a subterranean forge hidden from the world, an event that should never have occurred again was unfolding—an act the ages themselves had sworn would never be repeated.
The forging of a new Ring of Power.
The flames were not fed by coal, but by something older and far more perverse: ambition, pride, and the will to dominate. Each hammer strike made the air vibrate, warping space itself.
Obito… or rather, Celebrimbor, had been working for days without rest. His mortal body bent beneath the strain, but his spectral mind burned with fanatical determination.
The Tailed Beasts were gone.His plans for the Empire had failed.Kabuto was dead.
And yet… the Bright Lord had never been closer to his goal.
He knew the White Council was preparing. He felt their movements, their decisions, their fears. Soon, they would raise an army to oppose him.
He was waiting.
His own army already existed—forged across the ages, composed of broken beings, monsters, fallen lords, and corrupted wills that had sworn loyalty to him in exchange for a taste of greatness.
The time of schemes and shadows was over.
The reign of the Bright Lord was about to begin.
Author's Note: I'm thinking of using creatures and characters from various works for his army—some from Elden Ring, for example. Just imagine Esdeath fighting Malenia… that would be an absolutely epic battle. If you have other suggestions, don't hesitate to share them!
Hokage's Office
The Three Immortals were discussing the preparations for war with the Hokage and the clan leaders.
Then—
The rings pulsed.
A dull, deep throb—almost organic.
Galadriel instinctively pressed a hand to her chest. A shiver ran through her entire being. This was not a simple warning… it was a resonance.
A sensation she had not felt since the Third Age.
The power of a Ring of Power, awakening.
Her gaze fell upon Tsunade's hand.
Upon the ring.
And horror struck her full force.
"No…" she whispered.
She understood at once.
Another Ring had been forged.
Celebrimbor had succeeded.
But before anyone could speak, screams echoed throughout the village.
Screams of terror.
A pillar of darkness erupted at the center of Konoha. A sudden explosion caused the main square to collapse, revealing a structure thought long forgotten… and sealed forever.
The former Root base.
"Sakura! Naruto!" Tsunade shouted.
She rushed forward, followed by the clan leaders—by fathers and mothers who understood instantly what this meant.
Root Ruins
The scene before them was a waking nightmare.
The youths were there.
Crucified by the hands, pinned to wooden pillars with kunai. Their blood flowed slowly, collected with meticulous care by eight hooded, masked figures.
The Nazgûl.
They were chanting.
An ancient language—heavy, vibrating with curses—a chant the modern world had forgotten, yet one the soul instinctively recognized as blasphemous.
The shinobi tried to intervene; in response, countless seals flared crimson.
A black fog rose at once, warping reality. Those who ventured into it were repelled, disoriented, trapped in illusions so perfect they no longer knew where they were.
They were powerless.
Condemned to watch.
"Get away from my friends!" Naruto screamed.
He regained consciousness.
Bound at the center of the ritual, he saw the horror with his own eyes.
Sakura.Chōji.Shikamaru.Ino.Sai.Kiba.Hinata.Shino.
They were all there.
Mutilated. Drained of blood. Offered as sacrifices.
Hatred surged within him like a tidal wave—deeper even than during Pain's attack.
He called out to Kyūbi.
He expected rage. Violence. Release.
But nothing came.
Instead… a strange anticipation. A cold excitement. A deeply unsettling sense of familiarity.
Within his mind, he stood before the cage.
"Kyūbi… what's happening?"
The groans of his friends echoed.
He looked up.
They were looking at him.
Sakura whispered, her voice broken:
"N-Naruto… run…"
Then the fog swallowed her again, and she collapsed.
Khamûl stepped forward.
"The time has come to bring our brother back."
The Nazgûl raised their arms. The blood forming the seal around Naruto ignited.
"By the blood of the Eight New Companions…""By the power of the Dark Lord…""Rise from the dead and reign once more among mortals!"
The symbols flared with an infernal red glow.
"By the blood of your brothers…""Return, Lord of the Nine.""Take your place once more under the command of the One."
Black blood seeped from beneath the Nazgûl's hoods, writhing like serpents as it mingled with the human blood pooling on the ground.
[Minas Morgul Theme]
A vast, dark-green light suddenly burst from the heart of the ritual, tearing through the night sky like a gash in reality itself. Chakra exploded outward in a wave so violent that the entire village—and even the surrounding lands—could see that sickly light pulsing above Konoha.
Then came the roar.
An ancient, primordial cry, laden with millennia of hatred.The roar of the Kyūbi.
Naruto screamed.
A scream so agonizing it shook even the most hardened shinobi. Pain tore through him as he felt something change—something fundamentally wrong.
He was waiting for the fox.
He expected the chains to shatter, the nine tails to unfurl, to be drowned in a familiar, burning rage.
But it was not the Kyūbi that answered.
Above his clenched hand, another hand slowly formed.A massive, inhuman hand, encased in a black gauntlet bristling with claws.
A crown of spectral thorns materialized upon his forehead, sinking into his flesh as though it had always belonged there. His body twisted, bones cracking beneath an alien force, as dark armor fused itself to his skin.
"Naruto!" his friends cried, their voices breaking.
Dozens of shinobi were now rushing toward the area, drawn by the light and the thunderous noise. Even Zetsu, hidden at a distance, watched the scene in an unusually tense silence.
The eight Nazgûl stood unmoving around the seal, only a few meters from Naruto. Their forms seemed unreal, carved from shadow itself, as they continued to chant in the Black Speech—each syllable driving the ritual deeper into reality.
Tsunade felt her heart tighten.
What was emerging from the seal bore no resemblance to the demon fox of legend.This was no beast.
It was worse.
A humanoid entity wreathed in pure terror, evoking a demonic king rather than a wild spirit. A presence so overwhelming it made the soul itself tremble.
The shinobi tried once more to push through the black fog—again in vain. The illusions closed in like invisible fangs, hurling them back violently.
Then—
A titanic bolt of lightning struck the heart of the ritual.
The world seemed to freeze.The ground split apart.The sky was torn open by thunder.
The lightning crashed into the fog, consuming it in a deafening explosion. The green light vanished like a flame snuffed out by a supernatural wind.
When they were finally able to open their eyes again…
Naruto was gone.
In his place stood a being clad in black armor engraved with ancient runes, draped in heavy, dark robes that billowed like shreds of night itself. A towering figure crowned with a glacial presence that made all who beheld it instinctively recoil.
The Witch-King of Angmar.
Kurama's true form had finally been restored.
He slowly turned his head toward the eight youths who had forged bonds with his former host. Though his gaze was hidden beneath his helm, it seemed to pierce straight through their souls.
"Through your bonds with Naruto," he intoned in a low voice that echoed like a funeral toll,"I am finally free."
He paused—almost amused.
"If you survive the poison, you will be spared.""Consider this the final act of mercy granted by my former host."
He straightened to his full, terrifying height.
Tsunade tried to intervene.
She never even had the chance to strike.
The Witch-King brushed her fist aside as though it were nothing, then seized her brutally by the throat. He lifted her effortlessly and pulled her close. A black mist poured from beneath his helm and flooded into the Hokage's lungs.
Tsunade's eyes glazed over.Her body collapsed heavily to the ground.
Darkness consumed her gaze.
Cries erupted beyond the perimeter as villagers rushed toward the scene. The Nazgûl knew they could not remain any longer without drawing the White Council's full attention.
They summoned their mounts.
With a thunderous beat of unnatural wings, they vanished into the night—carrying the Witch-King with them.
At last, the black fog dispersed.
When it fully lifted, the shinobi beheld the horror left behind. The ground, the pillars, the symbols—everything spoke of a demonic ritual whose true meaning they had yet to grasp.
Until the White Council arrived.
"Everyone, stand back!" Elrond commanded.
He rushed to the wounded, his legendary calm intact—until his expression changed.
First, concern.Then, horror.
The youths' hands had been pierced and nailed to the pillars with their own kunai. Severe wounds—but survivable.
What truly froze Elrond's blood were the injuries to their abdomens.
Black.Fetid.Reeking of death.
"Morgul blades…" he whispered.
As proof, the hilt of one had been left behind.
Like a message.
And to worsen matters further, they all suffered from the effects of the black fog—a slow, insidious corruption.
"Gandalf! Galadriel!" Elrond called."Bring athelas!"
They immediately grasped the gravity of the situation and moved without a word. Elrond instructed the medics to detach the youths with the utmost care.
It took several hours simply to keep their bodies from slipping back into death. The Morgul poison was still gnawing at their flesh, the corruption of the black fog refused to dissipate, and their minds remained trapped in a nightmare that would not release them.
Only after several full days did the first signs of awakening appear.
They opened their eyes at the same time.
All of them drew in a deep, violent, desperate breath, as if each had been torn from unfathomable depths. Their bodies tensed, their hearts raced, and their frantic gazes swept across the white room in which they lay.
The silence lasted barely a second.
Then the truth struck them full force.
In the darkness where their consciousness had drifted, they had seen everything.They had not slept.They had not forgotten.
They had been forced to witness, helplessly, the transformation of their friend.
No matter their screams, their prayers, or their will, they had been nothing more than spectators—nailed in darkness, compelled to watch Naruto fall into something ancient, cold, and terrible.
And then…
He had stood before them.
A being with a human shape, yet stripped of all humanity. Heavy black armor, a voice resonating in a foreign tongue—and yet perfectly understood.
A voice that was not Naruto's.
"There is nothing in the Void… only… death."
The memory was too brutal.
"Naruto!" they cried almost in unison.
Their panicked heartbeats sent the medical sensors spiraling. Nurses and doctors rushed into the room, trying to assess the physical condition of the injured, while Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel immediately stepped in, fully aware that the visible wounds were not the most dangerous ones.
The youths kept trying to sit up, to speak, to warn them—voices overlapping in a chaos of panic, rage, and despair. Their bodies refused to obey, but their minds screamed.
Galadriel stepped forward gently, raising her hand as if to calm the very air itself.
"Children," she said in a calm voice laden with ancient gravity,"why are you so eager to rise and return to the fight?"
Hinata answered first, her voice trembling, her eyes still clouded with tears and lingering visions.
"Ghostly figures…Monstrous men… they crucified us…Then another was born from our blood.A fusion of the two…"
She drew in a painful breath.
"They took Naruto. The blood changed him… he became like them."
At those words, an absolute cold fell over the room.
The White Council exchanged a heavy look. Almost instinctively, each of them reached for their ring, as they once had in the face of the greatest threats of Middle-earth.
They called upon the power.
Nothing answered.
Silence… then a collective breath, mingling relief and dread.
Their Rings of Power were inert.Just as they had been since Sauron's fall.
The Dark Lord had not returned.His Ring had sunk into the lava.And with it, the power of their own rings had vanished.
Darkness was no longer their concern.
What terrified them now was something else entirely.
The light—grown arrogant.A blazing, absolute light, convinced of its own righteousness.A light capable of burning the world in the name of salvation.
But then…
How had Celebrimbor summoned the servants of Sauron from beyond the Realm of Death?
Had he broken the first seal?
No.
If they had been freed by Sauron himself, they would have felt it. Even weakened, his presence could not be hidden. It would have resonated in their rings, in their souls, in the very fabric of the world.
There was only one possible explanation left.
A chilling truth.
Celebrimbor had forged his own Ring of Power.
Uzugakure
In his dark tower, Sauron watched as the leader of the Nine knelt before him.
His most powerful servants had returned to his service.His armies stretched beyond seas and worlds.His enemies, blinded by their own pride, were already tearing each other apart.
The fruits of millennia of patience, manipulation, and sacrifice were finally ripening.
Only one thing remained.
The seal had to be broken.
Only then would the war cease to be a struggle of shadow against light, and become a battle for the throne of Arda itself.
And this time…
The entire world would be the battlefield.