Monster?
The "monster" in the eyes of Akimichi Dōtō and the others… was, of course, none other than Hyūga Kumokawa himself.
Looking at the throats of the distant onlookers bobbing up and down, he knew well: the Wind Style ninjutsu he had spent hours gathering chakra for, consuming more than half his reserves, had achieved exactly the effect he desired.
Uchiha Madara had once unleashed the Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame, a B-rank technique, yet with terrifying, world-shaking power.
Now, with the innate gift of the Ōtsutsuki bloodline, Hyūga Kumokawa could naturally reproduce a similar effect.
This entrance was flawless.
It had instantly shaken everyone present.
But this much… was far from enough.
He had to carve fear into their very bones.
For his first true appearance before the shinobi world, he needed to leave behind an impression none would ever forget.
"Lowly creatures."
The aged, hoarse tone drifted once again into everyone's ears.
Aburame Ryōma, who had nearly died to that strike just now, snapped back to himself, trembling, and instinctively turned to look at that black-clad figure within the curtain of rain.
"Tell me," Hyūga Kumokawa asked loftily, towering over them all, "what year is it now?"
"…"
No one answered. Or rather, they were still too stunned.
What year? How were they supposed to answer that?
Why would he even ask such a strange question?
And more unsettling still—why did his voice carry such a weight of age?
"…No answer?"
Hyūga Kumokawa's voice was soft.
He slowly closed his eyes, opening his mind completely to sense the power that lay far above, beyond the night sky.
Ōtsutsuki Toneri had done so even without eyes.
With both Byakugan and the Ōtsutsuki bloodline in his veins, Kumokawa had no reason to fall short.
His spiritual power extended outward like strands of silk, reaching toward the moon veiled behind storm clouds.
Until, at the limits of his reach.
Finally, he touched that strangely familiar force.
Even if the connection was faint, the sheer terror and strength of it was unmistakable.
It was the Tenseigan, born of countless Byakugan merging together, transformed by quantity into quality.
At that moment, though separated by hundreds of thousands of kilometers, Hyūga Kumokawa leveraged his bloodline to pry open a sliver of its "authority."
Something called ocular power began pouring into him.
The world before his eyes grew sharper, and the latent force in his Byakugan stirred awake.
Following pure bodily instinct, he raised his hands into a seal.
Vmm!
In an instant, an overwhelming aura burst forth from within him.
Everyone who looked upon him felt an indescribable terror seize their bones—like a blade pressed against the back of their neck, like a predator at the top of the food chain dragging its tongue across their skin. Instinctively, they wanted to step back.
But when Hyūga Kumokawa slowly opened his eyes, thin lids rising to reveal crystalline, glasslike blue orbs, it was as though centuries had passed, and those eyes had returned to gaze upon this world again.
That gaze alone pinned everyone in place, like a thousand blades driving through their bodies!
"Such power…"
Hyūga Kumokawa lowered his gaze to his own hand, fingers slowly curling until they cracked audibly.
Crack… crack!
Just prying open a fraction of it… and it was already this strong?
"Not enough." He licked his lips lightly, whispering, "Not enough!"
Meanwhile, as Kumokawa's attention shifted, adapting to this newfound force.
"Hhh—haa!"
The others, frozen like statues, suddenly gasped for breath, breaking free from the suffocating pressure, lungs desperately pulling in air.
"Damn it! Damn it!"
Aburame Ryōma finally snapped out of the fear, sweat and rain running down his trembling throat.
His pupils shook as he stared at that distant figure.
Beneath his terror, hatred and unwillingness flared, twisting his blood-streaked face into something hideous.
He could not die here.
He must not die here!
He had to live—and deliver word of this nightmare to Lord Danzō!
Now Ryōma understood what that question—"What year is it?"—had meant.
That terrifying chakra, that dreadful aura, there was no way this was some nameless figure.
They had truly unleashed a monster.
A monster once sealed away, now released.
A monster who had lived who knew how many years.
If such a being ever regained full power, none of them would survive. They had to act now.
"Akimichi Dōtō! Toroi!"
Like a cornered beast thrashing against death, fear ignited into madness. Aburame Ryōma roared:
"If you don't want to die here—strike now, before he regains all his strength!!"
His cry jolted Akimichi Dōtō and Toroi awake.
They realized instantly: if they didn't act now, it would be too late.
That suffocating aura was only growing stronger.
Soon, just one glance from that monster would shatter their will to resist.
And so, former enemies cast aside hesitation.
They were shinobi—those who walked with their heads tied to their belts, those who licked rust from the blade's edge.
They would never surrender without a fight. Even if their foe was truly a monster.
Given the scale of that Wind Style technique, escape was impossible anyway.
But if they could hold out until reinforcements from Konoha or the Hidden Cloud arrived, there was still a chance to kill this monster!
To fight a monster, they would have to become madder than the monster.
No matter what he was—if they went mad enough, they would dare to bite even a demon.
Anyone could tear off a piece of bloody flesh!
Whoosh!
The very air seemed to boil. Hyūga Kumokawa lifted his lowered eyelids, and a spark of fire gleamed in his blue gaze.
Flames surged, a sea of fire erupting—
"Fire Style: Dragon Flame Bullet!"
"Fire Style: Grand Blaze Technique!"
"Wind Style: Gale Palm!"
"Wind Style: Great Breakthrough!"
From afar, the Konoha shinobi puffed their cheeks with chakra, weaving signs, spitting torrents of flame and storming winds.
Wind fed flame.
Fire swelled into a sea.
It roared toward Hyūga Kumokawa, as though to consume him utterly!
Boom!!
The searing heat warped the very air, crashing over them like an invisible hand grasping their throats.
Toroi and the Konoha shinobi instinctively held their breath.
Their pupils shook as they stared into the inferno, searing the sight into their minds.
The crimson tide of fire rolled forth like a flood, a blazing torrent dividing the world in two.
Everything distorted in the heat. Everything burned away in the crimson maelstrom, as if they had stumbled into a nightmare of scarlet fire, unreal and dreamlike.
Sheets of rain evaporated instantly into steam, a thick white fog engulfing the entire battlefield.
"How is it? How did it go? Did he die?!"
Toroi's eyes locked on the distance. His scorched skin peeled away, exposing crimson veins beneath, making him look more monstrous than human.
But as the mist slowly parted, his eyes widened in horror.
There, within the ocean of fire, a warped silhouette grew clearer.
The raging flames—when they reached him—parted, flowing obediently around.
Hyūga Kumokawa raised his hand before him.
An invisible repulsive force diverted the fire away, the rain as well sliding harmlessly to either side.
Only the firelight licked across his face, illuminating those abyssal blue eyes—half god, half demon.
Almighty Push—the power shared by both the Rinnegan and the Tenseigan.
"Insects."
Ash swirled about him as he fixed his gaze on the shinobi ahead, voice cold:
"Your power is as weak… as your lives."
Vmm!
Blue chakra surged outward, wrapping around his body like flowing robes.
His feet slowly lifted off the ground. Under the horrified stares of all present, his figure rose into the air.
Meanwhile, several hundred meters away, dozens of figures lurking in the shadows suddenly halted.
The leader lifted his head, staring at the floating figure in the distance.
Rain-soaked white bangs covered his left eye, but the pupil of his right eye constricted sharply.
"…What… is that thing?"