Hidan held a letter in his hand.
The paper was covered in elegant handwriting, each word carefully crafted, detailing the White-Haired Leader's final plan.
Originally, the Leader had intended to use the secret methods of the Evil God Cult and Hidan's unique talents to create an immortal being—an undying apostle who would carry the teachings of their dark faith across the lands.
But then… he met Tsunade.
A woman blessed by the heavens.
The bloodline of Senju Hashirama, the contract with Katsuyu of Shikkotsu Forest, and the legendary Seal of the Hundred Heroes.
Three of the most vigorous and sacred life forces in the shinobi world, all flowing through the scar on Tsunade's chest, fell into the Leader's grasp under the influence of the Evil God's ritual.
And with that, the Kingdom of God had descended upon the village of the Evil God Cult.
The secret to infinite resurrection through bodily transference…
The power increase achieved by pleasing the Evil God…
All of it was based on that single principle.
Tsunade's vitality was simply too compatible with the so-called god.
This… this was fate.
The White-Haired Leader saw a new possibility.
He squeezed every drop of strength from Tsunade and Logan, using them as raw materials to mold Hidan into a "Holy Grail"—a sacred vessel to contain the Evil God's descent.
The irony?
Tsunade had only come to the Land of Hot Springs for a break, at Logan's suggestion, hoping to relax and recover.
But her path was blocked by the Evil God Cult.
That very obstruction had sparked the Leader's mad plan.
And yet—ironically again—it was Logan who ruined it all in the end.
Logan had been both the beginning and the conclusion.
Hidan never did become the Evil God's Holy Grail. He simply…
He looked down at his hand.
There was something new—a faint, eerie sensation clinging to his fingertips. A strange, silent power.
The ability to deliver death… at close range.
"But if it's that close, can't I just stab the guy?" he muttered.
Hidan scratched his head, bit into his pancake, and glanced again at the letter. His eyes dropped to the final lines:
> "...When you read this, I'll probably already be dead.
This is my fate.
Hidan, go find yours.
Good luck."
Hidan stood in silence, letter clenched in hand.
He stared blankly at the page.
"But… where is my fate?"
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew the letter from his fingers.
The parchment danced and twisted through the air before flipping and landing gently on the ground.
There was something written on the back—a small arrow pointing downward, and beneath it, a scribbled note:
> "By the way, if you don't know where to go, just take a step in any direction.
That's where you are."
A simple sketch of the Leader's head sat underneath the words, grinning cheerfully at Hidan.
Seeing that familiar smile, Hidan's eyes welled with red once again.
He knelt down and bowed toward the direction of the village, pressing his forehead to the earth.
Then he stood, picked up the letter, carefully folded it and tucked it into his robe.
Still holding his half-eaten pancake, Hidan strode forward—toward wherever fate might be waiting.
---
"Was 'Holy Grail Hidan' here?" Kakashi asked.
Logan looked around at the mutilated corpses littering the blood-soaked clearing.
"Other than the Leader, I didn't sense anyone special," he replied calmly. "He must have escaped."
Tsunade's brows unfurrowed, then pulled together in concern. "Can you track him?"
Letting a cultist like that escape was always a risk.
Logan shook his head. "No."
There was no direct link between him and Hidan, and the Left Protector's memories had shown that Hidan's body, appearance, and possibly even his soul had been altered during the transformation experiment.
No one knew what the final version of Hidan would look like.
Kakashi and Tsunade exchanged glances. In any battle, some fish always slipped through the net—especially ones the enemy had gone out of their way to hide.
"But still…"
Tsunade tilted her head back and gazed at the sky.
"Does a god really exist in this world?"
A blood curse.
A divine ritual.
An army of undying zealots.
It all sounded like a fairy tale—except they'd seen it with their own eyes.
If the Evil God Cult's teachings weren't so utterly inhumane, Tsunade might have believed them—if just slightly toned down.
"God…" Logan said softly. "I don't think it exists."
Tsunade turned to look at him, surprised by the certainty in his tone.
"But you saw it too—" she raised her arm and pointed skyward.
Logan raised his right hand in response.
During the battle against the Left Protector, he'd been infected by the Evil God's power. In desperation, he'd torn off his own arm—only for it to regenerate.
The skin tone was still subtly different. Not quite the same.
"I've felt up close what they call divine power."
When Logan channeled Ripple at full strength, he could tap into the energy of nature itself—listening to the breathing of the world.
In the midst of the fight, he had sensed it all.
The warped joy of the cultists.
The sorrow of the innocent who had died.
And the most terrifying thing—pure, unfiltered, suicidal desire—emanating directly from the Evil God's power.
"Everyone, under enough pressure, has a little desire to self-destruct," Logan said.
"High school students panic over their exams and mutter that they'd rather die.
Office workers wish for the world to end just to avoid another Monday.
Usually, it's just a passing thought."
He paused.
"But in this world—our world—the suffering runs deeper. The civilians here live through war, hunger, fear. Their thoughts of death… run far deeper."
He looked up at the darkened sky.
"It's like this: in some regions, too much sun causes the rivers to dry up. The moisture evaporates… and eventually it rains."
"The Evil God is that rainstorm. Born from war, misery, and the collective suicidal longing of the people."
Kakashi and Tsunade stood frozen, processing his words.
Tsunade slowly licked her lips and asked:
"So… you're saying the Evil God is a kind of… natural disaster?"
"Exactly. A weather phenomenon that reflects the will of the people, the structure of the world, and the force of nature itself."
"Of course," Logan added, "that's just my theory. The details are unclear."
He glanced sideways at Tsunade, eyes serious.
If this theory held true—if the Evil God was truly shaped by the desires of the world—then Tsunade's bloodline, as the direct descendant of Hashirama Senju, was…
Like the blood of the Joestar family was to Dio—irresistible.
"You should return to Konoha," Logan said. "Become the next Hokage as soon as possible."
His real message:
Stop running around with that priceless Senju bloodline.
The enemy had been defeated, and Tsunade, back to her usual self, laughed and placed her hands on her hips.
"Being Hokage can wait! I just crushed a powerful enemy today—I must be super lucky!"
She stretched, full of energy.
"Let's go grab Shizune and find a good spot to gamble!"
She winked at Logan. "You helped me a lot—I'll give you half of whatever I win!"
Logan's expression stiffened slightly.
There were two things he despised most in the world: drugs and gambling.
But considering she was a companion, he didn't lecture her too harshly.
"Most people lose when they gamble," he said, deadpan.
Tsunade waved her hand, brushing off the warning. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I won't lose today!"
Logan sighed and shook his head.
The three of them began their journey back toward town.
Logan took one last look at the ruined village behind them—red-stained, broken, silent.
This time, the death rain had been stopped.
But as long as the world remained the same, those clouds would return.
The storm would gather again.
---
But the path forward was not without reward.
Logan opened his system panel.
Soul Fragments Collected: 6,714.
He inhaled deeply.
Finally—he had enough.
"Upgrade: Star Platinum World."
The system responded:
> How many Soul Fragments would you like to invest?
Logan didn't hesitate.
"All of them."
Ãdvåñçé 60 çhàptêr àvàilàble óñ pàtreøn (Gk31)