Chapter 418: Arrangements for Daimyo Chiba
The dimly lit laboratory was a wreck of shattered glass and sparking cables. In the darkest corner, the very fabric of space suddenly warped. A violent, spiraling ripple tore through the air, twisting inward before spitting out a figure cloaked in black. An orange, single-hole mask gleamed in the low light.
Uchiha Obito.
His lone eye swept over the ruined equipment, the pooling chemical fluids, and finally settled on Orochimaru's back. The Snake Sannin's shoulders were rigid, his usual serpentine grace fractured by a rare, poorly concealed loss of composure. A dark, mocking sneer echoed from beneath the orange mask.
"What's wrong?" Obito drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "Even the great Orochimaru, one of the legendary Sannin, has moments of such pathetic exasperation?"
Stepping over a shattered glass vat, Obito found a relatively intact metal chair and sank into it with lazy arrogance.
"You underestimated Uchiha Akira, Orochimaru."
The taunt snapped something in the room's heavy atmosphere. Orochimaru whipped around, his pale face contorted.
"Underestimated?" A low, hair-raising chuckle slithered from his throat, echoing off the damp stone walls. "Hehehe... Obito, what right do you have to sit there and throw stones?"
Orochimaru's golden, slit-like pupils narrowed into dangerous crescents. "Can you do anything about Uchiha Akira? If you were truly so capable, why crawl to me for cooperation? Why hide in the shadows like a sewer rat, spinning these endless, cowardly conspiracies? Admit it, Obito." Orochimaru leaned forward, his voice dropping to a venomous hiss. "In front of Uchiha Akira, we are both nothing but weaklings."
Beneath the orange porcelain, Obito's jaw locked. While his face remained hidden, the chakra bleeding into the air instantly grew suffocatingly heavy, pressing down on the room like a physical weight. Orochimaru had struck a raw, bleeding nerve. The humiliation burned hot in Obito's chest.
Yet, he merely offered a cold, dismissive snort, refusing to vocalize a rebuttal.
He couldn't. Orochimaru had spoken the absolute truth. Uchiha Akira's monstrous strength had reached a terrifying threshold—one where even the absolute dimensional defense of Kamui was no longer a guarantee of safety.
A suffocating silence stretched between the two conspirators.
Orochimaru turned back to his ruined workbench, his pale, slender fingers mechanically sorting through the surviving scrolls. His heart, however, felt like lead. There was a critical piece of intelligence he was deliberately withholding from Obito.
The First Hokage. The Second Hokage. The Third Hokage.
Earlier, those three pinnacle Edo Tensei combatants had severed his direct control, marching autonomously toward Konoha. By all logical calculations, the combined might of three Hokage should have unleashed catastrophic devastation upon the village, forcing Uchiha Akira into a brutal, mutually destructive stalemate.
But... nothing.
Hours had bled by, and not a single whisper of destruction had reached his ears. The wind blowing from the direction of Konoha was terrifyingly quiet, as if the village were merely sleeping.
That absolute silence was what truly clawed at Orochimaru's sanity. Those were three Hokage! One of them was Senju Hashirama, the legendary God of Shinobi! Could it be... had Uchiha Akira eradicated them so swiftly, so silently, that it didn't even warrant a shockwave?
If that were true, what ungodly world of power had Uchiha Akira ascended to? A cold sweat prickled at the base of Orochimaru's neck.
"Phew..."
Obito exhaled a long breath, finally shattering the heavy quiet. The crimson glow of his Sharingan flared in the darkness of his eyehole, his aura freezing over as he forced himself back into his cold, calculating persona.
"Failure was to be expected." He stood, his boots crunching over broken glass as he stepped up behind the Snake Sannin. "This operation was merely a probe. A calculated sacrifice to test Uchiha Akira's bottom line and divert Konoha's attention. Although we lost the Fourth Kazekage and the Second Tsuchikage, the primary objective stands fulfilled. We have fresh, vital intelligence on his current capabilities."
Obito shifted his gaze to a massive, blood-stained map of the Ninja World pinned to the stone wall.
"Continue with the grand plan, Orochimaru. Since we cannot crush him in a frontal assault, we will bleed him dry from the flanks. Let the entire Ninja World be engulfed in the fires of war. We will wait until Konoha is utterly isolated, surrounded by enemies, and Uchiha Akira is exhausted from constantly putting out fires across the continent. Only then... will we strike the final blow."
Orochimaru stared at the map, a sharp, venomous glint flashing in his golden eyes.
"As you wish."
...
Meanwhile, miles away in the desolate wilderness.
Uchiha Akira hovered effortlessly in mid-air, the violent desert winds whipping his dark hair around his face. Far below his boots, a colossal, pyramid-shaped structure of hyper-compressed sand dominated the cratered earth. Trapped deep within its crushing core was the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa.
"That should be enough," Akira murmured, his tone devoid of any exertion.
With a mere flicker of thought, a terrifying, invisible wave of pure ocular power erupted from his eyes, cascading down to envelop the monolithic sand dune.
"Six Paths Sealing Technique: Spirit Binding."
The very next second, the earth groaned. The massive sand pyramid began to tremble violently, its structural integrity failing under the weight of a divine law. Then, as if devoured by a localized black hole, the towering structure rapidly collapsed inward. It shrank exponentially, condensing into a blinding streak of golden light that shot straight up into the sky toward Akira.
He simply reached out his hand. The light slammed into his palm, vanishing instantly into his skin without a trace.
With Rasa permanently dealt with, Akira slowly descended to the ruined earth. His boots touched the ground with a soft thud. He turned his gaze toward his two disciples standing nearby. Both Naruto and Gaara were staring at him, their eyes burning with absolute, unshakeable fervor.
Akira offered them a slight, approving nod. "Since the trash has been cleared, it is time for us to head back."
As he spoke, Akira casually waved his hand. The fabric of reality tore open behind him, unfolding into a pitch-black, swirling spatial vortex. It was the gateway leading directly into his personal domain—the Tianyu Space.
"Naruto. Gaara." Akira's voice brooked no argument. "You do not need to follow me for the remainder of this journey. Go in."
Hearing the command, Naruto's face immediately fell, his shoulders slumping dramatically. "Ah? Back to the hellish training already?"
Despite his loud complaints, the blonde jinchuriki's body was entirely honest, already shuffling toward the swirling portal.
"Stop complaining," Akira said, his lips twitching upward in dry amusement. He lifted his leg, delivering a swift, phantom kick through the air. "Get in!"
"Waaah!" Naruto let out a comical yelp as an invisible force booted him squarely in the rear, sending him tumbling headfirst into the vortex.
Gaara, on the other hand, remained perfectly composed. He placed a hand over his heart, bowing deeply and respectfully to his master, before stepping into the dark portal without a single moment of hesitation.
The vortex snapped shut behind him. Having secured his two disciples, Akira's eyes flashed. His figure blurred, instantly vanishing from the desert winds without leaving a single footprint behind.
...
A few seconds later. The Capital of the Land of Fire, the Daimyo's Residence.
Inside the magnificent, gold-leafed main hall, the atmosphere was suffocatingly heavy. Daimyo Chiba was kneeling dead center on the tatami mats, his opulent robes pooling around his violently trembling frame. A primal fear, originating from the very depths of his soul, gripped his throat, forcing him to draw every breath with agonizing caution.
Suddenly, the air in the center of the room warped. A familiar spatial ripple bloomed outward.
Chiba flinched violently. He didn't even look up before slamming his forehead against the floorboards, the crisp thud echoing loudly in the empty hall.
"W-Welcome back, Hokage-sama!" he stammered, his voice cracking with terror.
Uchiha Akira stepped out of the void, his dark robes settling perfectly around him. He cast a cold, indifferent glance at the pathetic ruler prostrating himself like a dog, then bypassed him entirely. Akira walked up the short steps to the Daimyo's elevated throne and sat down, claiming the seat of absolute power as if it were his birthright.
"The trouble has been dealt with," Akira stated, his voice calm and flat.
Hearing those six words, Chiba felt as though he had been violently yanked from the gates of hell back into the world of the living. He raised his head, his pale, sweat-drenched face stretching into an extremely exaggerated, fawning smile.
"Hokage-sama's divine might is truly unrivaled!" Chiba praised, his voice pitching higher in his desperation to please. "Those blind, ignorant thieves who don't know life from death actually dared to offend Hokage-sama's supreme majesty! They were simply begging for their own destruction! With Hokage-sama protecting us, it is truly the ultimate fortune of the Land of Fire, and the supreme blessing of the entire Ninja World!"
Chiba's skill in sycophancy was practically an art form, his string of desperate praises flowing endlessly like a surging river.
Akira did not bother to interrupt him. He rested his chin on his knuckles, watching the groveling man with dark, impassive eyes. Such hollow words were entirely useless, but they were mildly amusing to listen to, serving as a brief, pathetic form of entertainment.
Only when Chiba's throat ran dry and his praises finally sputtered to a halt did Akira speak again.
"Chiba."
"P-Present!" Chiba immediately straightened his spine, kneeling at strict attention, his ears practically twitching to catch every syllable.
"Although this specific assassination attempt was resolved by my hand," Akira began, his tone dropping a few degrees, chilling the room. "The war has only just begun. There are far more than just those two fools eyeing your head."
All the blood instantly drained from Chiba's face, leaving him looking like a powdered corpse.
"T-Then... then what should I do?" he gasped, scrambling forward on his knees. "Hokage-sama, you must save me! I beg of you! I don't want to die!"
Looking down at Chiba's utter cowardice, a fleeting trace of cold contempt flashed through Akira's eyes. This was the Daimyo of the Land of Fire. A pathetic, spineless puppet. But he was obedient enough, and his fear of death was absolute. Only a man this thoroughly broken by fear was truly easy to control.
"Do not panic," Akira commanded, his voice slicing through the Daimyo's hysterics. "Since you are the Daimyo I have personally chosen, I will not allow you to die so easily. Find a body double. Someone whose build, voice, and appearance perfectly mimic yours. Let that double act in public, handle the court, and attend all those insignificant political banquets."
Akira leaned forward slightly, his deep, crimson-ringed eyes locking directly onto Chiba's trembling pupils, pinning the man in place like a terrified insect.
"As for you... until the entire Ninja World is completely unified beneath my banner, you will stay hidden in the deepest shadows. You will keep your head down, and you will not make a single sound." Akira's voice dropped to a deadly, absolute whisper. "Am I understood?"
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