A crimson moon hung high in the sky.
Tonight, the Uchiha district was no longer filled with its usual bustle and pride—only darkness and deathly silence remained. The faint, metallic scent of blood lingered in the air.
Under the moonlight, Uchiha Itachi dragged his weary body away from the Hidden Leaf. His expression was eerily calm—too calm, bordering on numb. His eyes occasionally flickered with pain and struggle, but the emotion never reached his face.
"A bit of bad news," said a voice suddenly, tinged with mockery.
A masked man stepped out from the shadows, his orange spiral mask concealing everything but a single eye.
Itachi glanced at him but said nothing.
The man didn't seem to mind.
"A lucky little one got away."
Itachi's expression didn't change, but his hand, hidden beneath his sleeve, clenched slightly.
The entire district had been surrounded by Root. How could anyone have possibly escaped?
Though a lone survivor wasn't likely to stir up much trouble, he still hoped—perhaps prayed—that whoever it was wouldn't be clever enough to uncover the truth of that night... or worse, ruin the future he'd planned out for Sasuke.
"Konoha will take care of it," the masked man said flatly.
"Now take me to your organization."
Itachi didn't respond, but he turned and walked. The two figures soon disappeared into the distance.
...
Back in the Root base, a shinobi knelt on one knee before an old man wrapped in bandages.
"Lord Danzō, after verifying the bodies, it appears one Uchiha is unaccounted for."
Danzō's brows furrowed. "Someone escaped?"
"No signs of anyone leaving the village. The missing Uchiha was just a civilian—not a shinobi."
Danzō was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"Understood. Keep searching. If you find them, eliminate them."
"Yes, sir."
A mere civilian. Danzō didn't think someone like that could possibly evade Root for long.
But then—a violent explosion shattered the stillness.
The ground shook. Dust and smoke surged into the air.
A terrible premonition gripped Danzō's chest.
Moments later, the entire village stirred. Blazing firelight rose into the sky, reflected against the broken stone faces of the Hokage Monument. Danzō's expression darkened.
His instincts had been right.
"What's going on?!"
"An earthquake?!"
"Don't tell me... is the Nine-Tails back?!"
In the dead of night, panicked civilians flooded the streets. A crisis response meeting was immediately called. Chūnin and jōnin organized search and rescue teams.
Thanks to the disaster readiness from the Nine-Tails' attack years ago, the evacuation process ran smoothly. Still, something felt off.
"Where's the Uchiha?" a Leaf genin shouted angrily. "Why aren't those bastards helping with the rescue?!"
His voice rang loud and clear, filled with agitation—and it struck a chord. Resentment spread like wildfire among nearby villagers. Back during the Nine-Tails' rampage, the Uchiha had stayed holed up in their compound. People remembered the Sharingan pattern flashing in the beast's eyes...
Could it be them again?
The good news: there was only one explosion. The worst-hit location was the Hokage Monument.
The bad news: the Uchiha Clan was gone.
By dawn, one of Konoha's founding clans had been wiped from the earth. Only the clan head's younger son—Uchiha Sasuke—survived.
Everyone else was dead: pregnant women, infants, elders... all gone.
The news sent shockwaves through the village.
The accusations against the Uchiha died out instantly, replaced by stunned silence. But it didn't last. Whispers filled with sympathy, suspicion, and schadenfreude began to stir.
The higher-ups hadn't released an official statement yet. They were too busy arguing behind closed doors.
The Hokage's office was thick with tension.
There were plenty of attendees, but only four elders truly held decision-making power. Everyone else was just window dressing.
Those in the room weren't fools—they could guess the truth behind the massacre. It was an open secret: a sanctioned slaughter. But no one dared speak it aloud.
Now the real problem loomed: who had planted all those explosive tags without anyone noticing? Who dared to bomb the Hokage Monument?
And how the hell were they supposed to explain this to the villagers?
The face of Konoha had been blown to pieces—literally!
Most people in the room wore grim expressions. All except Shimura Danzō, whose eyes gleamed with suppressed satisfaction.
The wicked Uchiha were finally gone. That alone made him feel ecstatic.
The village might be a little unstable now, sure—but maybe he could use the chaos to weaken Hiruzen Sarutobi's position?
After all, even if he tried to assassinate the Hokage, Hiruzen would probably still forgive him...
"Lord Third!" an ANBU suddenly burst in, visibly shaken.
Sarutobi's heart tightened. "What is it?"
Every gaze in the room snapped toward the messenger.
The ANBU swallowed hard, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
"Ten kilometers outside the village... there's a large force of unknown shinobi."
He didn't even need to finish.
Everyone present instantly understood—they were being invaded.
The Uchiha were gone. Konoha had lost one of its arms. Its overall power had dropped. Naturally, someone had noticed the weakness and was making a move.
Sarutobi narrowed his eyes, shooting a cold glance toward Danzō.
The Uchiha Massacre had been top secret. So why had the enemy struck at this exact moment?
Someone had leaked the intel.
There was no time to investigate. Sarutobi immediately began organizing a counterattack.
Even weakened, Konoha was still a force to be reckoned with.
The war machine rumbled to life once more.
...
Naka Shrine
A boy in black robes stood before a stone tablet, his fingers glowing with a cold, sinister light. The energy seeped into the stone, rewriting the secrets hidden within.
It was a trap—a casual snare left behind by a hunter, waiting for some clueless prey to wander in.
His name was Sargatanas.
A demon from the Abyss—and more importantly, a demon who had escaped it.
In the infinite realms of existence, demons had many origins. Some came from the Burning Legion. Others were born in twisted demon realms. Even fallen monks could be called "demons" in the broader sense.
But true Abyssal demons were servants of the Abyssal Will, soldiers in its endless conquest of other worlds.
Demons could die. They could even be used as rare alchemical ingredients—some shady mages liked summoning lesser demons just to dissect them.
As far as Sargatanas knew, no demon had ever escaped the Abyss's control—not even the mighty Demon Lords. They all obeyed the Will.
Of course, maybe he was just too young to know better. Maybe, somewhere in the abyss of history, someone had broken free before.
If he were a high-ranking demon, he probably wouldn't even want to leave.
But he wasn't.
He was just a grunt—cannon fodder for some middling lord.
Wanting to escape that fate? Reasonable.
But that alone wasn't enough to justify betraying the Abyss.
He closed his eyes.
From the void, thick gray mist surged around him, creeping like ancient sea creatures, filling every crack. At its core, reality seemed to fold inward—there hovered an ornate oil lamp, golden and etched with warped, alien patterns. It looked almost like a teapot, its spout ending in an unlit wick.
This was his secret weapon.
The Wishing Lamp—his golden finger, his ticket out of the Abyss.
The mist parted. From the lamp's spout burst a massive hand, followed by a coiling arm and a smoky upper body. The figure twisted through the air and took shape—a humanoid upper torso, tapering into a tail of mist still connected to the lamp.
It had no eyes. Only twin golden flames burned in its sockets.
Gray-blue skin. Gleaming bracelets. A radiant crown atop its head.
"I am the Lamp God ██████, dear contractor," it boomed. "I smell the scent of a sacrifice. Will you be making another wish?"
Sargatanas shook his head.
Instead, he reached into the shadows and pulled out a small glass vial—like a test tube—filled with clear liquid.
Floating inside were two bloodshot eyes, crimson pupils gleaming faintly with a single tomoe.
"Single Tomoe Sharingan. Uchiha Sasuke's eyes," he said, and dropped them into the lamp.
A faint spark ignited on the wick.
"That's it?" the Lamp God scoffed. "I thought it'd be worth more."
"Consider it a down payment for the next wish."
The Lamp God rolled its eyes dramatically—then retreated into the lamp.
Sargatanas glanced at the object with deep caution.
He'd first found it during the Abyss's invasion of a high-magic realm, wrested it from an elven queen. Her diary had contained the rules:
[1] The lamp can grant any wish of the contractor.
[2] A sacrifice of value increases success and lowers risk.
[3] Wishes can still be made without a sacrifice.
[4] Every wish will manifest in a twisted, unpredictable way.
[5] Sufficient sacrifices reduce distortion and danger.
The elven queen had wished to save her realm's dying World Tree.
The wish succeeded—by attracting the gaze of the Abyss.
Her world fell. The tree was stolen and turned into a bonsai in a demon lord's garden.
To this day, it thrives.
The lamp wasn't native to the magical realm.
Maybe it came from somewhere beyond the multiverse.
Sargatanas kept it hidden—and had made only one wish.
That time, with death on his heels, he'd gambled everything on the lamp.
He'd asked only to escape—to a place no one could find him.
No sacrifice. Just desperation.
The wish worked.
But the lamp's light had drawn something—Umr, an unknown entity whose arrival broke the very logic of the Abyss.
The old chaos of the Abyss was mere disorder.
Now it was full-scale rule-collapse.
The Abyss tried to expel Umr.
In the chaos, Sargatanas was torn apart—body destroyed, soul on the brink of annihilation.
The lamp snatched him up and fled.
On the way out, it tore off a fragment of power from the Abyss itself:
[Authority: Concealment]
In the Abyss, demons could use Authorities like [Greed], [Envy], [Fear]—but they never truly owned them.
They belonged to the Abyssal Will.
But Sargatanas held full ownership of Concealment.
His body was gone. His soul cracked.
He was constantly on the verge of collapse.
But with Authority in hand, his potential soared.
Even a crude use gave him stealth, anti-meme shielding, presence nullification, counter-divination...
He was invisible—unknowable.
Safe from pursuit.
And if he could fully fuse with it, he would become a new god.
A God of Concealment.
The lamp was still his last resort.
But back when he first used it...
That so-called Lamp God hadn't even existed.