The Grand Master finally turned. Shigure's pulse froze. His skin was ghastly pale, stretched tight across bone. Hollow eyes gleamed with fanatical fire. The sight was unnervingly similar to tales Shigure had once recalled of Hidan's blood-soaked form—twisted, skeletal, yet pulsing with unholy vitality.
"Catch him!" the man barked with shrill fervor.
From the dark corners of the chamber, cultists emerged in droves. Dozens of fanatics, eyes shining with lunacy, charged straight for Shigure.
But he didn't panic. He snapped his hands into seals with practiced speed. "Shadow Clone Technique!"
Puffs of smoke ruptured around him, and five identical clones appeared. Six Shigures formed a protective circle, shielding the bound Hizashi and Noguchi at the center. Kunai drew in unison, their steel glinting in the wavering torchlight.
"Shigure!" Hizashi rasped desperately, his breath shallow from his bindings. "These ones… they're stronger than they look. Be careful!"
But before the first fanatic reached them, Shigure stepped forward. A kunai flashed, slicing clean through his teacher's bonds. Hizashi staggered up, flexing stiff hands in readiness to join the fight.
"They're coming!"
Shigure inhaled deeply, hands flying into rapid seals. "Fire Style—Great Fireball Technique!"
A roaring sphere of flame burst from his lips, engulfing the chamber. Screams filled the darkness, fanatics silhouetted in flame before vanishing into ash. The stench of burning cloth and flesh suffocated the air.
The cultists collapsed in piles, smoking heaps twitching in final spasms.
But Hizashi, eyes wide, whispered urgently, "Don't let your guard down. They're not ordinary men… They have special abilities."
Barely had the words left his lips before the proof revealed itself. Shigure's Sharingan spun, watching what should have been corpses twitch unnaturally. Limbs shifted. Lids snapped open where moments ago there had been only death. One by one, bodies clawed upright, burned skin knitting back together with grotesque regeneration.
"They're… coming back," Shigure muttered darkly. "Not true immortality like Hidan, but suspended death… and instant revival afterward. Troublesome."
A chilling laugh echoed through the chamber. The Grand Master raised his skeletal arms. "Hahahaha! You think fire will save you? Bleed for the Evil God instead! All of you—collect his blood! Blood is the path of sacrifice, the Death Blood Ritual will claim them all!"
At his command, the fanatical believers surged again, scorch marks still smoldering but movements renewed with even greater frenzy.
Shigure's mind flashed with Asuma's tragic fate at Hidan's hands. If they draw my blood, it could be over instantly.
He clenched his teeth, forming signs again. "Shadow Clone Technique!" More figures burst into the misted chamber, scattering his image across space. Now the enemy could no longer tell which form was his true body.
Before they adjusted, he took his chance. "Water Style—Hidden Mist Technique!"
Vapor surged from Shigure's lungs, rolling out in thick, suffocating waves. Visibility collapsed to nothing but eerie shadows in white fog.
"Shigure!" Hizashi hissed from somewhere nearby. "You just launched Fire Style… to use Water Style on top of it will drain you dangerously. Think!"
"There's no choice." Shigure's voice was cold steel wrapped in vapor. "We're outnumbered. If this drags on, we'll be overwhelmed. Better to risk chakra exhaustion now and wipe them all at once. We fight all-out, or we die."
Hizashi's tone softened but held grim weight. "If your chakra runs empty, I'll hold them off with my life. You… must survive."
Outwardly Shigure nodded—"Understood"—yet inwardly he smirked. If only they knew… The chakra I carry already exceeds many Kage. If I wasn't so young, I'd already be counted among the strongest in the world.
The fog deepened. Cultists cried out, clumsy and blind. The Grand Master's shrill orders rang hollow: "Search! Find them! Bring me the Uchiha's blood! Our Lord will reward you!"
But in this new world of shadows, only Shigure's crimson Sharingan pierced true.
He stalked silently, slipping behind one distracted zealot. His hand snapped forward, driving a Gentle Fist strike directly into the man's veins. Blood vessels ruptured. The fanatic collapsed, chakra flow severed, heart stilled.
Shigure crouched back, eyes wary.
For a breath, the cultist lay still. Then—unnatural. A burst of malignant force erupted from his skull like invisible fire, reviving muscle and blood with an alien vitality. The body convulsed, knitting once more to stand.
"I see it now…" Shigure muttered under his breath. "It's Hidan's blasphemy all over. If we want to kill them, I'll need something stronger. Much stronger."
"Over there!" one fanatic roared, pointing at the echo of earlier sound. The Grand Master surged with them, voice shrill. "Reinforce! Capture him! For the Evil God!"
But Shigure had no intention of waiting. Standing among his clones, he clapped his hands together.
Chakra surged—three distinct elements blossoming and coiling into one devastating pattern.
"Compound Style—Water, Earth, Thunder Dragon Bullet Jutsu!"
A roar reverberated through the cavern. Coiling dragons of black soil, crackling sparks, and surging streams tore forward, merging into an elemental massacre. They slammed into the wave of cultists.
The impact carved devastation through stone. The chamber erupted in a catastrophic blast, believers thrown like ragdolls, bodies charred and torn apart. The Grand Master himself reeled, blasted across the altar to slam heavily against the wall.
No pause.
No mercy.
Shigure's seals danced again. "Fire Style: Great Fireball!" Another wave of heat swept the fog.
"Fire Style: Dragon Fire!" Burning coils lashed through smoldering mist.
"Fire Style: Phoenix Fire!" A scatter-shot inferno rained ember after ember.
"Fire Style: Fire Dragon Flame Bullet!" A serpent of flame swallowed half the chamber.
Not content, he pushed his lungs raw: "Wind Style: Wind Dragon Bullet!" The flames combined with wind, igniting into cauldrons of devastation.
The cavern shook like it would collapse.
From behind, Hizashi could only gape in stunned silence. Even as a Hyūga elder and seasoned Jonin, his eyes couldn't reconcile what he was seeing. This boy—barely a genin—poured chakra into technique after technique without falter, unleashing enough killing power to annihilate entire platoons.
His Byakugan activated instinctively. Then Hizashi froze.
Through the all-seeing vision, Shigure's chakra nearly blinded him. This wasn't the flicker of youth, nor the controlled portion of normal shinobi. This was a raging ocean. A brilliance that coursed powerfully through every coil, divine in density, relentless in supply. It dwarfed even many Konoha Jonin.
"…Impossible," Hizashi whispered, shaken to his core. "He's been hiding… all this time?"
The fog raged, fire roared, and the cult screamed their insane devotions to an evil god that would not answer.
Yet in the middle of destruction, only one truth became clear—
Uchiha Shigure wasn't merely a promising genin. He was a monster cloaked in the guise of one.
And the cult was about to realize just how wrong they were to corner him.
--
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