Several figures rushed to the scene at top speed. The moment they took in the sight before them, even these shinobi—veterans tempered by the fires of war—felt their scalps prickle and their stomachs churn.
Severed limbs littered the ground. Blood had soaked the earth a dark crimson, and the overpowering stench was nearly suffocating.
At the center of this hell on earth, a petite figure drenched head to toe in blood slowly straightened up beside a twisted corpse.
That was… Karin?!
"Karin! Stop right there! Don't move!"
One jōnin shouted sharply, forcibly suppressing his shock.
No matter how unbelievable the scene was, they understood one thing clearly—something terrifying had happened to this Uzumaki girl.
She had become an extremely dangerous existence.
Karin halted at his command.
She raised her small hand, sticky with coagulating blood, and casually wiped her face. The gesture only smeared the gore further, making her features look even more feral and horrifying.
She looked at the Grass Village jōnin facing her like mortal enemies, and a bizarre smile—innocent yet cruel—spread across her face.
"You…" Her voice was clear and childlike, yet carried a chill that seeped straight into the marrow.
"…should all be purified."
Those words became the last clearly heard sounds in those jōnin's lives.
In the next instant, a crimson storm of death swept over them.
"AAAAH—!"
"No!!"
"Monster!!"
Screams rang out once more, this time mixed with the thunder of ninjutsu being released and the sharp crack of weapons snapping apart.
Yet all resistance proved utterly futile before Karin's absolute speed and overwhelming power.
The slaughter spread from the outskirts, creeping relentlessly toward the core of Kusagakure.
That day, the Hidden Grass Village迎ed a blood-red dusk.
The ninja who once stood high above, who had treated Karin and her mother as mere tools…
The villagers who had mocked and bullied them…
All of them died painfully, indiscriminately, in the so-called "purification," leaving behind nothing resembling whole bodies.
The village burned. Wails echoed without end.
A living hell descended upon the land.
From a high vantage point, the leader of Kusagakure stared down at the region ravaged by a crimson storm—and at the red figure rampaging freely through ruins and corpses.
His first reaction was utter shock and disbelief.
"That's… Karin?! How is that possible?!"
He could scarcely believe his eyes. That timid, submissive girl—treated as nothing more than a reserve resource for the village—possessing such terrifying power?
It completely defied reason.
But then, that shock was replaced by a far more intense emotion—
Greed.
His eyes lit up, and uncontrollable ecstasy spread across his face.
"An inheritance! She must have obtained some kind of powerful inheritance—just like the Spring Sakura shown in the sky!"
He muttered excitedly, convincing himself more with every word.
"That's the only explanation! Power that changes everything overnight… yes, it has to be that!"
His gaze locked firmly onto Karin, as though admiring an unparalleled treasure. The fervor in his eyes was almost blazing.
"An inheritance… Since it appeared in my village, it belongs to me."
He clenched his fist, his heart completely consumed by the desire to monopolize that power.
As for the villagers and ninja who had died?
In his eyes, as long as he could obtain that strength, every sacrifice was worth it—even a necessary "price."
"ANBU!" he barked coldly.
"Immediately gather all ninja still capable of fighting and surround Karin! Remember—I want her alive! No matter the cost, you must capture her for me!"
"Yes!"
The ANBU answered and vanished in an instant.
Beside him, a more clear-headed senior official looked down at the infernal scene below, at Karin's clearly abnormal state, and spoke with deep concern:
"Leader, Karin's condition is extremely unstable, and her power is unnaturally strong. For the sake of the village's future, shouldn't we first evacuate some of the ninja and civilians—to preserve our remaining strength?"
The leader's eyes shifted, delight surging through his heart.
He had been worrying about these officials getting in the way—now they were conveniently removing themselves!
Putting on a façade of prudence and responsibility, he patted the official's shoulder.
"You're right. I was careless. Very well—leave the evacuation of civilians and personnel to you. Go immediately. Make sure the village's future is preserved."
His tone was heavy, as if he had made a painful decision.
The official suspected nothing, gave him a grateful look, and turned to organize the evacuation.
Watching his retreating back, the leader of Kusagakure curled his lips into a cold smile.
Go. Leave. All of you…
By the time you return, the inheritance will already be mine.
Then not just Kusagakure—no, the entire shinobi world—will kneel at my feet!
He placed all his hopes and ambitions on that crimson figure below, still carrying out her "purification."
With the leader's command, the remaining Grass ninja surged toward Karin like a tide, attempting to subdue her through sheer numbers.
Kunai. Shuriken. Wind Release. Fire Release.
A storm of attacks poured down upon her.
But instead of showing any sign of slowing, Karin only grew more excited.
"So happy! So many filthy things that need purifying!"
She weaved through the barrage, her movements ghostlike. Most attacks couldn't even brush the edge of her clothing.
On the rare occasions a jutsu or weapon struck true, it was like throwing mud into the sea—it didn't even slow her down.
That blood-soaked regenerative ability kept her in an almost perpetual peak state.
Her small hands were like the most precise—and most merciless—scalpels. Every strike sent up a spray of blood:
sometimes ripping out a still-beating heart,
sometimes tearing a person cleanly in two.
"After purifying you all, Lord Demon God will surely be pleased!"
She laughed as she slaughtered—laughter like silver bells, yet horrifying beyond words.
"For Lord Demon God! Die! All of you die! Hahaha! Hehehehe—!"
The initial fire of revenge had already begun to change.
Amid the endless killing and the corrosive influence of the dark power lurking within her, Karin's hatred for Kusagakure remained—but what drove her now was increasingly an intoxication with destruction itself, and a twisted desire to please the being that had granted her this power.
Piercing wails and despairing screams became the background music of the massacre.
Karin's delighted, frenzied laughter formed the most jarring main theme of this hellish symphony—shattering the courage of every remaining survivor.
After paying a price in lives too great to count—after watching elite jōnin cultivated over years be harvested like weeds—the leader observing from afar felt his face drain of all color.
The greed and fervor that once burned in his eyes were gone.
All that remained was ashen despair.
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