As I neared my eighth year in this world, a considerable amount of time had passed since the battle against Obito. I considered myself the strongest of my generation, but not because I had neglected constant training—on the contrary, I never left it aside—but because my true strength came from a different path: building my own power from knowledge, understanding the hidden laws of this world to exploit them.
My Sharingan had only evolved to two tomoe, which might seem insignificant for someone at my level. However, it didn't worry me; I was so immersed in parallel projects that I didn't have time to force its growth. My priority was something else: forging paths that no one else even dared to imagine.
At that moment, I was at a secret base that the clan had prepared exclusively for my research. There, with the help of several shadow clones, I was carrying out what in my previous world barely existed as theory: a fusion reactor, inspired by the same principles that gave energy to the stars and the Sun.
In front of me stood a metallic platform about five meters in diameter. From it emerged eight colossal arms, six meters high and one meter thick, all covered with complex copper formations and seals inscribed with millimeter precision. They were advanced models of coils, capable of generating and manipulating enormous magnetic fields. Together, these structures formed a spherical dome that, for now, remained empty. Around it were lined gigantic tanks containing the chosen fuel: hydrogen, obtained through electrolysis thanks to electrical jutsus that I myself had designed.
The platform was protected by two main seals. The first was a spatial seal inspired by the works of Minato and Kushina: whatever was inside its field could never escape. Its complex web of symbols covered the base and climbed the metallic arms, like living roots. Unlike Minato's conventional seals, this one functioned constantly as long as it received an adequate supply of chakra. The second seal was a heat generator—a perfected fire jutsu that, through the inclusion of pressurized oxygen, could theoretically reach temperatures of up to four thousand degrees.
Added to all this were long, ten-meter copper cylinders, connected directly to the hydrogen tanks. These conduits accelerated particles using magnetic fields, ionizing them before they entered the platform's core.
This project had consumed more than a full year of work. It was born from the need to find a more powerful energy source than solar for my future spacecraft. Renji's experiments had shown that it was possible to generate natural energy from heat, but the results were insufficient for what I was looking for.
That's how I ended up a hundred kilometers from Konoha, prepared for the first real test of the reactor. I knew everything could go wrong, or right. Of course, I wouldn't expose myself directly; I left the operation in the hands of several shadow clones while I observed from a distance.
The launch was almost a ritual. One of my replicas activated the lever that released the chakra accumulated in a battery that I had been patiently filling for a whole year. In an instant, a blinding light erupted in the center of the platform. A roar of amplified fire ignited the vacuum, and the whiteness of the glow intensified until it looked like a miniature sun. The spatial seal was already active, containing the heat and ions in the sphere's core.
At first, the light contracted until it vanished, but then new sparks emerged one after another: four, then ten, then eleven… they seemed to reproduce on their own, dancing in spherical patterns that enveloped the platform. From the outside, it was already impossible to see what was happening inside; if the experiment had been at night, it would have illuminated several kilometers around as if it were broad daylight.
Then came the real tension. Chakra consumption skyrocketed. The coils devoured energy to maintain the atoms' polarization, but the plasma's instability caused the magnetic fields to begin to deform. In the center, ionized particles collided violently, generating spatial fractures that threatened to tear the fold designed to contain the heat.
There were too many problems at once, but my clones looked at each other and smiled. The thrill of experimenting on that scale was more addictive than any drug.
Suddenly, a sepulchral silence enveloped the area. A white sphere of energy emerged and expanded, devouring everything in its path until it reached a three-kilometer radius. Then it exploded upward in a column of fire that ascended until it was lost from view.
The sound came later, with a powerful roar that seemed to concentrate all the thunder in the world into a single explosion. The wind was sucked into the fiery column, and finally, the expansive wave swept through the forest, uprooting trees as if they were straws.
From Konoha, the sky filled with lightning. It was as if nature itself was reacting with fury, illuminating the dark silhouette of the column in the distance, which continued to rise tirelessly.
Minato was the first to arrive. With a hardened face, he advanced as far as the heat would allow, observing the scene with a heavy heart. The magnitude of that destruction made him feel small, vulnerable, as if human power meant nothing in the face of that monster of energy. "I want to believe this isn't a weapon from another village…" he murmured, with a bitter taste in his mouth. "If it were, we'd be lost."
Soon more ninjas arrived. Hyuga Hiashi with several members of his clan, Fugaku accompanied by Itachi, leaders of other families, and even Hiruzen, the elderly Third Hokage.
Hiruzen approached Minato with a somber face. "Minato, do we know anything about this? An enemy? Any suspicious movements in neighboring villages?"
Minato shook his head gravely. "For now, only destruction. Fortunately, it happened far enough from the village, but it doesn't seem to be the work of nature… or any known shinobi. We must form a research team with the best specialists immediately."
Itachi, to one side, watched everything in silence. He felt neither happy nor sad: failures were part of the learning process. He understood that containing the fusion ions was much more complex than anticipated; the energy released had been so immense that it even tore space.
But he was not discouraged. He was convinced that the spherical shape was still the key, although he needed to perfect the stabilization methods. Two ideas were already forming in his mind. The first: injecting natural chakra into the core, creating a kind of "natural energy Rasengan" to force the plasma's stability. The second: redesigning the spatial folds to be flexible. If space itself could deform and distribute the impact of the tears, it would be possible to prevent fractures and keep the sphere intact.
He knew he would need at least six months before attempting a new experiment. But inside, a certainty grew stronger: what he was forging there was not just a reactor but one more step toward a power that transcended even the rules of the universe.