At those words, Ryota slowly raised his right hand.
At his fingertip, a faint azure glow began to gather.
With a single thought, the divine crest of the Ryota Familia imprinted itself on Orochimaru's back.
Crack—!!
It was the sound of a soul being pried open, the declaration of destiny's gears beginning to turn.
The next instant—
Orochimaru's body trembled violently, his pupils contracting as if his entire being had been ripped from its coordinates.
It was a sensation he had never known before—
Not like the shedding and rebirth of taking a new body.
Not like the violent upheaval of unleashing a forbidden jutsu.
But rather—like an entire cosmic flood pouring into his consciousness.
A feeling of… connection!
He felt an immense, boundless power surging from Ryota, spilling into the depths of his soul.
"This…"
He murmured, and the suspicion, vigilance, and probing curiosity in his eyes gradually faded.
What replaced them was a reverence and awe so deep it seared into his marrow.
It was the primal reaction of facing divinity itself.
When his soul finally realigned, Orochimaru lifted his head slowly. His expression was solemn. The gaze he turned toward Ryota now held—
No mockery.
No arrogance.
No contempt.
Only respect.
And a submission that rose from the very core of his being.
Ryota considered for a moment, then moved again.
From his palm bloomed a golden inscription, a complex array of runes, which shot forward in a flash and etched itself onto Orochimaru's brow.
It was an advanced formula of the Flying Raijin Jutsu—far more intricate, far more precise than the original. It even carried residual traces of space-time law.
"This is your first reward," Ryota said calmly.
"You can study it—but don't even think about replicating it. The core permissions within it can only be unlocked by me."
Orochimaru blinked, then chuckled lowly, nodding over and over.
"Of course… of course… This is more than enough. More than enough."
In his mind, the vast architecture of the formula unfolded.
Orochimaru took only the briefest glance—yet it was enough to shock him like a bolt of lightning, rooting him to the spot.
Space coordinates. Seal markings. Stabilization axis. Target-capture delay buffers…
Every single rune was carved to perfection. Every logic chain locked seamlessly into the next.
And there—something he had never even touched before—
"Cross-dimensional anchor computation logic"!
It was like staring into a living, flawless organism.
"This… this isn't a jutsu…"
His voice trembled.
"This is… a miracle…"
Even he—Orochimaru, master of forbidden arts, who had toyed with life and death itself—had no choice but to admit:
This formula had surpassed the very boundaries of ninjutsu.
It had surpassed the theoretical limits of the shinobi world itself.
Orochimaru raised his head once more. The eyes that fixed on Ryota burned with awe, with fanatic devotion.
Ryota met that gaze—like Orochimaru wished to carve him into his very soul—and his lips curled into a faint smile.
He nodded, satisfied.
Yes. That was the look he wanted.
Like a venomous worm bowing to the King of Poison.
Like a zealot kneeling before the true god.
Orochimaru's reaction was exactly as he had foreseen.
Men like him were ambitious. Their desires, boundless.
But if given the "future" they sought, they would willingly surrender everything.
To make Orochimaru obey?
Just give him a reason worth betraying Konoha for.
Ryota had always known: Orochimaru was not loyal. He had never served anyone but one thing—"evolution."
And at this very moment, Ryota himself was the path toward supreme evolution.
Ryota looked him in the eye and spoke evenly:
"Hoshigaki Kisame and Deidara… that should be wrapping up soon."
"The cleanup afterward, I'll leave to you, Orochimaru."
He paused briefly, then added:
"Fugaku will assist you."
The moment his words fell, Ryota's figure vanished without a trace.
Orochimaru blinked, about to ask questions—when suddenly an immense torrent of information slammed into his mind!
His pupils constricted violently, his entire body shuddering. He nearly staggered to his knees.
It wasn't genjutsu—these were real memories, directly granted by Ryota himself!
Ryota's rise as head of the Uchiha clan.
The obliteration of the Root organization.
The instant disappearance of the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen.
The fall of Kakuzu, Hidan, and even the Six Paths of Pain…
The memories flickered through his mind like a reel of film.
"What… what is this…"
Orochimaru's throat was dry, his voice shaking.
He hadn't even seen ten seconds, yet cold sweat already drenched his back, running down from his brow.
Powerful.
Too powerful!
This was not something a shinobi could achieve.
This was an absolute existence—one capable of reshaping the entire shinobi world as a chessboard.
Orochimaru, for the first time, felt a flash of relief.
Relief that he had not clung stubbornly to his old path.
This was the wisest choice he had ever made in his life.
And just as he was caught between horror and release, a great shadow suddenly plummeted from the distant sky, slamming into the ground with a deafening crash!
It was Kisame.
His body covered in wounds, and on Bete's back hung Samehada.
Looking at the fallen shinobi, Bete gave his arm a casual shake and scoffed coldly:
"Annoying. Handled."
Almost simultaneously, in the skies on the other side—
Brilliant fireworks blossomed in the air.
But it was no festival.
It was Deidara's end.
["Art is an explosion!"]
The words had barely left his lips—his hand still clutching the ultimate clay
when the Hiryute sisters struck from both flanks, shattering his wrists in tandem before driving a punch into his gut so hard his vision went black.
And with that, Akatsuki was annihilated.
Only one exception…
Zetsu.
That elusive shadow. Not man, not beast. A monster that knew far too many of the forbidden truths.
From beginning to end, it had never appeared on the battlefield.
Ryota didn't believe for a second that it had given up spying on this upheaval.
But he wasn't in a rush.
Because Ryota knew—Zetsu would show itself eventually.
…
At the same time—
On the border of the Land of Fire, an elite shinobi force was advancing rapidly toward Konoha.
Their headbands all bore the same insignia.
Sunagakure.
At the front, cloaked in rust-red, half his face hidden by a sand scarf, only his eyes visible, marched a man.
His name was Maji. The newly appointed battle commander of Sunagakure.
And he had come personally, with one clear goal—
To strike the Land of Fire while Konoha was in chaos, and drive it into ruin.
Behind him, a chunin stepped forward and whispered a report:
"Captain Maji, we've entered the Fire Country border. According to prior intel, Konoha is in complete disarray. The Third Hokage's death has been confirmed."
Maji nodded.
"Hmph. Those arrogant Konoha shinobi… finally tasting the retribution they deserve."
"In the Second Shinobi War, we lost too much. In the Third, the disappearance of the Third Kazekage, and Konoha had the gall to deny responsibility…"
"This debt was always going to be repaid."
His eyes narrowed, gaze stretching toward the sea of trees ahead, burning with hatred and ambition.
"Konoha is bleeding dry of elites right now."
"If we strike now, even if we can't destroy it outright, we can pierce deep into its heart and shatter its foundations!"
"Those old foxes of Konoha… no longer deserve to dictate the balance of the shinobi world!"
Though Granny Chiyo had strongly opposed this plan to "invade" Konoha—
The Fourth Kazekage had chosen otherwise.
Maji, a jōnin, was placed in command, with a handpicked strike team of Sunagakure elites.
The core strategy was simple: precision strikes.
Their goal wasn't occupation.
It was disruption. Weakening. Retaliation.
To make Konoha bleed. To force the shinobi world to recognize Sunagakure's strength once more.
Maji's troops were all hardened fighters, with several masters of Wind Style among them.
They weren't here to negotiate.
They weren't here to threaten.
They were here to shatter Konoha's "myth."
A true suicide squad.
With only one objective:
Penetrate Konoha's border defenses as fast as possible, sow maximum fear and destruction, then withdraw completely!
Sabotage. Assassination. Shattering morale. Provoking war.
What they didn't realize was—
Ryota in Konoha was thinking the exact same thing.