The outside world's noisy, dense rain was cut off.
Upon entering this space, it was replaced by an eerie silence.
Not a complete lack of sound, but rather like sinking into the depths of a viscous, heavy liquid, where the passage of time became blurred and indistinguishable, filled with a more primitive, indescribable aura.
What made Nagato feel the most trepidation and solemnity was the omnipresent "sense of being watched."
He could clearly feel that every inch of this space was imbued with a cold, ancient, utterly malicious will.
The shadowy outlines within the mist seemed like eyes, coldly staring at him, the uninvited guest, yet if one looked closely, there was nothing there.
"Who are you?"
Nagato's questioning voice echoed into the distance, endlessly, as if this place were boundless.
So, he frowned, took a step, and chose a direction to walk in.
As Nagato drew closer, he felt as if he were walking into the sea, step by step from the shore. The heavy pressure gradually rose, little by little, submerging his chest, making him feel uneasy and suffocated.
Just then.
Drip.
A drop of blood fell onto the ground beneath Nagato's feet, yet it seemed to land on the surface of water, rippling outwards. A crimson color gradually dyed his vision.
He finally saw the sea of blood beneath his feet; everything before him was dominated by black and crimson.
But amidst the black and crimson, countless pale skeletons piled up before Nagato, forming a mountain of corpses, looking up.
Upon the rugged throne constructed from white bones, a figure sat quietly, one hand resting casually on a ghastly white skull, the other lazily propping up its chin.
He hadn't even fully opened his eyes; his eyelids were half-closed, long lashes casting shadows over his eyes.
"You..."
Nagato looked up at the figure on the mountain of corpses. Upon seeing that face, he instinctively opened his mouth.
However, the person slightly lifted their eyes, looking down at Nagato.
"..."
Silence, a deathly silence, yet more intimidating than any words.
That gaze wasn't merely "seeing"; Nagato felt his soul and essence being sliced open and scrutinized, bit by bit, by that gaze. This feeling made one's soul tremble in fear.
Ever since he gained control of these Rinnegan eyes long ago, he hadn't felt this way in a long time.
The last time was when Yahiko died before his eyes, that utterly real sense of weakness and helplessness.
And at this moment, under that condescending gaze, Nagato re-experienced that feeling, and he finally realized a truth.
"Inside Hanzo's body, there is an existence that must never be touched."
Under the threat and unease originating from the depths of his soul, Nagato almost instinctively dodged the gaze and lowered his head, yet he also felt an overwhelming sense of humiliation and unwillingness from within.
He was "Pain," he was "God," yet he was so cowardly.
Who exactly was this person?!
The untouchable existence in Nagato's eyes was, of course, Hyuga Kawa, residing deep within Hanzo's soul. This scene did not surprise him.
Given Nagato's mental state, which was almost dragged down by the Gedo Mazo and Rinnegan, he still looked sickly even after being Impure World Reincarnated by Kabuto Yakushi.
Now that he was in Kawa's domain, he was merely fish on a chopping board.
Here, he was the master of everything, the sole law of this space.
Hyuga Kawa shifted his gaze, as if looking at an antique that held a slight sense of novelty, but then discovering it to be a shoddy imitation, leading to silent disinterest.
"Whether you die, or he perishes, it matters not."
He lowered his eyes, his voice deep and slow, carrying the husky rasp of metal grinding. "For the sake of these eyes, I'll spare you this once, but there will be no next time."
Nagato snapped out of his fear, and at those words, he abruptly raised his head, his expression grim. He looked at the figure on the mountain of corpses and said in a deep voice, "Why for the sake of these eyes and not me!"
These Rinnegan eyes were clearly his; he was born a "god" to bring peace to the world, and he would nurture peace through pain.
However, almost as his words fell, Nagato suddenly saw a slight upward twitch at the corner of that face.
It wasn't a smile, but an extremely subtle, contemptuous annoyance.
"Hmph."
Just a single syllable.
It contained no substantial content, yet it was a thousand, ten thousand times more terrifying than any words.
Hyuga Kawa finally lifted his eyes. Those deep blue pupils swirled, like a vortex beneath a calm sea, taking away all of Nagato's courage.
Hyuga Kawa once again simulated and reproduced the full might of the Tenseigan.
Under the condescending gaze of those pupils, Nagato experienced for the first time a profound sense of insignificance originating from the depths of his soul, utterly alien to him. Even his soul was stinging.
That wasn't how humans looked at other humans, nor was it the cold indifference with which he, in his self-proclaimed divinity, looked upon "mortals." It was more like looking at an "object."
Hyuga Kawa's gaze was no longer scrutinizing, but observing.
Nagato felt everything about himself—his form, his soul, his thoughts, even his very existence—completely seen through and pinned in place by that gaze.
"Who do you think you are?"
Hyuga Kawa's voice was cold and heavy, carrying the cruelty and impatience of one who saw through everything. "You are merely a lowly vessel meant to contain those eyes, nothing more."
"Without these eyes, which are not yours, you are nothing but a weak ant."
As his words fell, Hyuga Kawa raised his arm and extended his index finger. Nagato's soul froze solid, and that finger, pointing at his face, gently glided.
Pfft!!
A silent, invisible stillness struck. His right arm, like dismembered building blocks, suddenly detached and broke away from his shoulder.
But it wasn't over.
Hyuga Kawa lightly swiped again.
Pfft!
His left leg separated from his torso.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!!
Several cracks appeared on Nagato's spiritual body. His limbs separated from his torso, yet remained eerily suspended in mid-air, making him look like a disassembled puppet.
Some shimmering white particles drifted from the severed ends of his limbs.
"Ah!!"
The pain originating from his soul was incredibly terrifying. It felt as if his muscles, skin, even bones and brain, everything was being torn apart, causing Nagato to let out a desperate shriek.
Perhaps due to the mournful sound created by Nagato's wailing and fear, the hoarse voice reaching Nagato's ears finally gained a hint of pleasure.
"Cherish the remainder of your hard-won life," he said softly. "Stepping over ants without crushing them, it's hard to gauge the strength."
"Remember, step into this place again, and no matter whose pawn you are, you will be crushed by me."
As the words fell, the entire space seemed to "come alive." It was no longer the previous calm stillness. The shadows in the mist transformed into a malevolent wind, and the sea of blood beneath his feet began to surge and churn.
Nagato's shattered soul was crudely kneaded by a force, and several invisible chains tightly wrapped around him, pulling him out.