Ten minutes later, the survivors of the disastrous meeting had been moved into a second conference room.
But the atmosphere was nothing like before.
The room was silent — funeral silent, world-ending silent — every shinobi sitting stiffly in their chairs as if the slightest noise might attract the attention of the unseen monster who had just erased a portion of reality itself.
No arguments.
No whispers.
No political posturing.
Everyone simply… sat.
Breathing shallowly.
Waiting.
A single word could feel like a death sentence.
It was as if a demon capable of ending nations with a flick of its hand stood in the room with them, unseen.
Finally — after several suffocating minutes — the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, spoke.
His voice was low. Steady.
But his hand trembled on the table.
"That attack…" he said, "was similar to Dust Release — Jinton — of the Third Tsuchikage, Ōnoki."
A few clan heads stiffened.
Hiruzen continued:
"But Dust Release always emits significant chakra fluctuations. And it cannot be activated instantaneously. It requires forming the dimensional construct, compressing it, and firing it. That technique… had none of those signs."
He exhaled slowly.
The elders stiffened. This was the Ninjutsu Doctor speaking — the man who catalogued thousands of techniques across nations. If he called it similar to Dust Release, then the attack was no mere trick.
Hiruzen exhaled. "It reminded me of the Flying Thunder God. Except instead of teleporting the caster or an object, the attack itself was teleported. Space folded, and the annihilation zone expanded from Aburame Fū's position."
The council exchanged grim looks.
As expected of the Ninjutsu Professor…
He had dissected the entire phenomenon after witnessing it only once.
From the Uchiha's side of the table, Itachi finally spoke.
"Before it activated… the pendant on Yamanaka Fū's neck glowed blue."
That single statement locked the truth into place.
Uchiha eyes did not miss.
Kakashi stood behind Hiruzen, silent, arms folded. But beneath his composed mask, his eye flickered with thoughts.
He knew.
This was Chronarch's technique.
But why Chronarch acted now… Kakashi couldn't decrypt the intent.
He kept his silence.
Everyone exchanged uneasy glances.
Nara Shikaku let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
Aburame Shibi adjusted his glasses, hands slightly shaking.
Hyūga Hiashi's Byakugan veins had not fully faded from earlier panic.
Why kill Koharu?
Why maim Danzo?
Why reveal such a terrifying power so openly?
The questions swirled — but there were no answers yet.
Not in Konoha.
Not in this room filled with the strongest shinobi in the village.
Silence fell again.
Heavy.
Crushing.
Because now, every single person in that room realized:
Konoha had an enemy who could kill any of them at any moment.
Distance did not matter.
Barriers did not matter.
Rank did not matter.
Only a single mark or seal.
And worst of all…
They didn't even know the man's name.
Only the traces of a myth.
Only the whisper of a ghost.
Chronarch.
_____
Danzo awoke drowning in pain — a pain so sharp it felt like his body was being erased piece by piece.
He forced his eyes open.
A medical room.
Mask-faced Root operatives lined the walls, monitoring instruments, running chakra scans.
For a moment he thought it was all a dream — an absurd nightmare that evaporated with consciousness.
But then he tried to move.
A jolt of agony ripped through him.
He glanced down.
And the world shattered.
Half of his right torso, an entire portion of his right arm, and even a section of his right leg… were simply gone.
Not crushed.
Not cut.
Erased — as though space itself had refused to acknowledge he once had a right side.
Danzo's heart pounded.
His ninja career… was over.
Before, when he lost an arm, he grafted Hashirama cells and Sharingan to compensate. There had been something to attach them to. Something to reinforce.
This time?
It was like trying to replace a punctured tire on a car whose entire wheel assembly had vanished.
You could swap Ferrari tires onto a junk car… but replacing the entire chassis was another dimension of impossible.
Even Hashirama's cells couldn't rebuild half a missing body without the host collapsing into mutation and death.
If Danzo truly had the physical capacity to withstand that much Hashirama reinforcement… he would've done it years ago.
Finally, he rasped:
"Mouse…"
A Root operative in a blank mask stepped forward.
Danzo's voice was hoarse.
"Report."
Mouse bowed, then delivered the nightmare.
"Danzo-sama… in the meeting hall yesterday, around Yamanaka Fū's position, a 2×2×2 meter cube manifested. Everything inside that cube was annihilated instantly."
Danzo's fingers tightened.
Mouse continued.
"Hokage-sama determined the technique resembled Dust Release… but differed in three ways.
One: No chakra fluctuations.
Two: Activation was instantaneous — or performed from extreme distance.
Three: The jutsu was teleported via a seal… placed on Yamanaka Fū's pendant. This was confirmed by Uchiha Itachi."
The room grew colder.
Mouse inhaled before dropping the next bomb.
"Yamanaka Fū died instantly. Elder Koharu as well. They did not have time to speak a word."
Danzo's expression darkened.
"And the investigation?"
"Last night, a clue appeared. The pendant originated from Shop 13 in the Central District — a souvenir store. A dozen identical pendants were available. There was no purchase record. When the Anbu attempted to apprehend the shopkeeper… the shopkeeper was killed."
Danzo's reiatsu-like fury filled the room.
"How?" he hissed. "What are the Anbu even doing? If they cannot handle a single investigation, they might as well—"
Mouse cut him off gently, as if he hadn't heard the insult.
"The shopkeeper was killed by the same jutsu used on you. A 1×1×1 meter cube manifested — his upper body was erased. Including the brain. All memories gone. All clues vanished."
Danzo froze.
He understood.
The attacker had tied loose ends with surgical precision.
Whoever it was… had planned every step ahead.
Finally, he asked, voice low, hoarse:
"When can I leave this bed?"
"Danzo-sama," Mouse replied, "you may leave whenever you wish. Root's medical facilities surpass even Anbu standards."
Danzo nodded.
Without waiting for doctors, healers, or clearance, he swung his remaining leg off the bed.
Mouse lifted him onto his shoulders, steady, controlled.
Together, they left the ward — Danzo half a man, but twice as enraged.