He felt free again.
Around him, there was nothing but open plains and dense forest. Scattered among the trees stood ancient, Celtic-like stone structures — moss-covered, cracked, and ominously silent. On one of them, a woman lays slumped, her limbs draped lifelessly. Nearby, a masked figure stands still as if caught in a trance. A bell-like sound echoed through the air, not quite heard but felt — pulsing, insistent. It pushed him toward the woman, tempting him to crush her like the insect she was.
But… did he want to?
Elias looked at himself and found animal paws instead of hands, crimson tails swaying around him like whispers of blood and memory. He realized — or believed — that he had discovered his new form, his new purpose. He had always rolled with the punches in life, barreling through each situation until something broke. And now? He didn't know where he was. He didn't know who he was. He had no goal, no cause. Was understanding necessary? Or was there simply a need to make up for the 23 years of confinement?
The answer was clear. Obvious.
He closed his eyes and entered the same self-created behavioral modification trance he had once used to become a living masterpiece inside the mess hall of Litla-Hraun — that lovely, warm, psychotic little prison. Liberated now from his former chains, he opened his eyes and took in a deep breath. Not just any breath — a royal Sniffa. The ultimate Sniffa. The kind of inhalation you only get once per lifetime, if you're lucky. And in that breath, he caught it — the scent of society. A mass of humans, nearby. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. And did it matter anyway?
He was on a roll.
Awkward at first, then with rising grace, he surged forward. The world blurred around him. Air resisted his charge, wind screamed in his ears, and he realized — he didn't have a human face anymore, he had a snout. A fox's snout. Nine tails behind him confirmed it. Giant paws smashing the earth, he laughed. Not with his mouth — with his being.
The world responded with voices: high-pitched, giddy, almost childlike. "The cutest little fox in the world!" they seemed to cheer. If one could've seen Elias's eyes, they might've caught stars of manic joy dancing within them.
Then came the tiny men — ninja, leaping from branch to branch, trying to catch him. And beyond them, a sight: walls, faces carved into stone, rooftops adorned with Japanese symbols.
"America? Cazzo, sì!" he howled like a beast greeting the moon.
The sonic blast of his cry blew the ninja away and launched trees into the air — a four-kilometer radius of destruction as the forest took flight like a flock of wooden birds. Some looked like they were trying to reach the moon.
Of course, the traditional kaiju approach would be to slowly advance on the city and stomp buildings, roar here and there and launch a laser beam at the military. But Elias — Elias liked to play. His life had always been about messing with people. Friends. Family. Enemies. Strangers. Even locked in a cell he had always had choices.
Now, an entire village of tiny, screaming humans awaited him. Oh, he was elated.
He sprinted toward the hidden village — then stopped. Turned away. Dashed back toward it — then veered off again. One of the ninja shouted, "Quick! After it! It's trying to escape!"
Being referred to as an it? Refreshing. Delighted, Elias spun and rushed back toward the city again, repeating the loop like a demented amusement park ride.
In Konoha
Hiruzen Sarutobi and Danzō stood outside the gates, already geared for war, ANBU and Root operatives at their sides. Watching the fox spiral around like a deranged flame, they concluded the worst: the Kyūbi had lost its mind. After three more erratic loops, three ANBU squads were dispatched to support Minato and Kushina — if they were even alive.
The remaining ANBU teams took over the evacuation of villagers, the Root attempted surveillance. Meanwhile, Minato engaged Obito. But Kamui's phasing made the masked man untouchable. Still, Obito was a one-trick shinobi — and Minato, ever the genius, began adapting. With more ANBU arriving, Obito had no choice but to flee, furious that his grand plan was falling apart. In a distant cave, he bashed his head against the wall until Black Zetsu arrived to calm him.
Outside the village, Elias — or whatever it was now — was too fast. Minato tried to catch him using the Flying Thunder God jutsu, but Elias shifted direction too rapidly. The sheer turbulence of his movement blew even the Fourth Hokage away. This back and forth lasted for several minutes, Kyubi looked like a crazed dog hit with zoomies!
And then… he stopped.
He grinned. A wide, horrific grin full of needle-like teeth. This splendid beaming smile sent chills through every living thing witnessing it. He understood now. His body. His power. His right to exist.
This was his reward — for the deaths, the pain, the madness. The God of Blood was pleased.
Minato reappeared before him again, scroll in hand — but before he could do anything, the fox vanished.
In the center of Konoha, he materialized again. A colossal red beast, standing in silent malice. Nine tails rose around him pointing to the skies!
Three black spheres, five meters wide, floated from each of his tails stopping and their tips. A massive orb appeared in his ferocious maw. There was no charging time nor any dramatic warning animation like in a video game.
The spheres launched — the small ones hurling into the sky going after the large one, then crashed into it at high speed. No one had time to react. No explosion was heard at first — only a deathly silence as black dots rained down on the village.
Then… the impact.
The primary explosion came like a divine curse. Sound and shockwaves tore through the sky, and at same time going down toward the village. Smaller secondary detonations rippled in sequence, each one layered upon the last — a symphony of destruction, an opera of obliteration.
It was not war.
It was art.