"I hereby sentence you to two hundred and fifty thousand years of eternal solitude in the depths of Tartarus. Should you ever die, your body will be burned and fed to the clan. Your soul will be fractured into a thousand pieces and scattered across the universe for eternity."
The judge's voice boomed through the chamber, gavel striking like a death knell.
At the center stood the prisoner—no, the monster. His body was bound in layers of sealing cloth, covered from head to toe, inscribed with seals so dense that not even a breath of chakra leaked out. His form resembled a mummy, yet more grotesque still: nailed to a cross of black stone, chains binding every limb, every joint, and even his neck.
This day would be etched forever in the annals of the Otsutsuki. For the most wanted criminal in their history—Otsutsuki Shunsei—had finally been captured. And with him came the longest sentence ever declared.
…..
*Ten Thousand Years Later*
Footsteps echoed in the endless dark.
Tartarus was forbidden to all but the highest-ranking Otsutsuki. Time moved strangely here: a minute outside could mean years inside.
The air was hostile; the atmosphere itself could kill if not careful: freezing and burning, corrosive and poisonous, all at once. Even the ground and water carried venom that eroded both body and soul. It was a place no life could endure—yet only one person was sealed at this level all alone.
At the final gate, the footsteps stopped. A pale light fell on the cross. Shunsei still hung there.
Chains gripped his wrists, ankles, and throat, each link engraved with advanced seals.
Layer upon layer of binding cloth cocooned his body, so suffocatingly complete that not a trace of flesh could be seen.
He did not move. He did not breathe. He did not react.
And yet his presence pressed against the intruder, forcing him to maintain his distance.
"It's an honor," the visitor whispered. "To meet the legendary immortal sinner—Otsutsuki Shunsei."
Shunsei remained as still as the stone behind him, a corpse that refused to rot.
The intruder chuckled nervously, though his voice wavered under the crushing stillness. "It seems these seals make even thought itself a burden… how terrifying."
He pulled a ring of keys from his robes. "Smuggling these in wasn't easy. Tartarus rejects spatial storage. I had to carry them inside me to pass inspection. If anyone knew, I'd be executed instantly."
He stepped closer, each footfall echoing. "But I didn't come here to die. I came to make a deal."
His tone shifted, confidence creeping back into his words. "When the news spread that you wounded our god—Shibai Otsutsuki—the entire clan mobilized, willing to sacrifice everything to erase you. There are some who fear that killing him outright would rupture karmic balance and doom us all… but others among the high council secretly longed for it. After all, we are a clan that can grow stronger by consuming our own."
The man stopped before the bound figure. The silence felt heavier than gravity.
"As heir of the Otsutsuki and next head, I offer you freedom—and a chance to kill Shibai. In exchange, I want your core origin technique. What do you say? Taste fresh air… take your revenge."
He slid one key into the seal across Shunsei's face, channeling chakra into the lock. With a hiss, a single strip of cloth unraveled, revealing the faintest sliver of untouched flesh beneath—skin that, even after millennia, looked pristine, unmarred by time or Tartarus.
The man's breath caught awaiting his response. Even in silence, even chained and bound for tens of thousands of years, Shunsei radiated an aura that threatened to kill him if he approached any further.
For a moment, the air was still. Then—
A sound escaped. A breath? A whisper? No—it was laughter. Low, rasping at first, then smooth, as though mocking the silence that had bound Tartarus for millennia.
"…Ten thousand years," Shunsei murmured, his voice unmistakably calm. "And you insects haven't become any smarter, I see."
The heir straightened, gripping his keys tighter. "You'll learn your place. I offered you—"
"—Silence."
The word cut him off. His hand holding the keys fell. Severed.
Shunsei tilted his chin, amused. "Do you really think I endured all this to trade scraps with a child? I don't need your help leaving. As for that 'thing'… we will undoubtedly meet again."
The seals around his body pulsed faintly, reacting as his chakra stirred for the first time in eons.
"Ten thousand years of accumulation… this should be enough to activate it."
The heir's eyes widened as the air tore open beside the cross. A jagged rupture of space itself formed in front of him, a swirling abyss straining against Tartarus's walls.
From within Shunsei's chest, a faint glimmer tore free—a fragment of his soul, burning like a star.
The chains rattled violently as if trying to contain the escaping fragment, but to no avail.
The heir staggered back, shouting, "Impossible! That should be—!"
Shunsei's lips curled. "Impossible? No seal is perfect. Even if you hadn't undone the first one, I would have done this in a thousand years."
The fragment vanished into the rupture, streaking into the void.
Shunsei slumped, but his presence lingered. This vessel may have to remain… for a long time.
The rupture snapped shut. Silence fell.
The heir stared in horror. For the first time in Otsutsuki history, a prisoner had escaped Tartarus—and it was his fault.