Akira's voice resounded across the entire Desert of Death.
It was not loud.
Yet it carried—clearly, unmistakably—cutting through wind, distance, and even perception itself.
Sasuke's expression hardened. Both Yamanaka Ino instinctively straightened, their chatter gone without a trace. Karin's hand tightened slightly over her stomach as she looked toward Akira, her eyes filled with a seriousness she rarely showed.
At the center of the formation, the thousand future Akiras surrounding the present one moved in perfect unison.
A single black feather drifted down.
Then another.
Then hundreds.
Black feathers began to radiate outward from every Akira, spinning, accelerating, merging.
Within seconds, they formed rotating currents—tornadoes of feathers—each one perfectly aligned. ( Ten future Akira in a circle combine their feathers to form a tornado)
Around the present Akira, one hundred concentric tornadoes took shape.
They did not clash. They did not collapse.
They rotated in flawless harmony.
And they didn't stop.
The tornadoes grew higher. Higher still.
The wind screamed as the black currents stretched upward, piercing the sky. What began as a ritual formation transformed into something colossal—as though a pillar had been driven straight through heaven and earth.
A black column stood in the desert.
Its outermost diameter spanned nearly two kilometers. Yet its core—the innermost vortex surrounding Akira—was only ten meters wide.
Sasuke's Sharingan burned. Even with his perception pushed to its limits, he could not fully comprehend what he was witnessing.
Shock wasn't limited to the Desert of Death.
Across the entire Chronarch World, every individual above S-Level felt it.
Not as chakra. Not as pressure.
But as instinct.
Something fundamental was changing.
They activated sensory ninjutsu. They opened dōjutsu. They scanned the land, the sky, space itself.
And yet— They found nothing.
No source. No disturbance. No anomaly.
Only a deep, unsettling certainty that the world they knew was no longer the same as it had been moments ago.
Far away—
Madara Uchiha paused.
Standing atop a ruined plateau, he turned his head toward the distant horizon—the exact direction of the Desert of Death.
A slow smile formed on his face.
"So that's it…" he murmured.
Madara understood. But he did not move.
If Akira had wanted him there, he would have been invited. If not—then Akira had his reasons.
Madara respected that.
---
Pure Land.
A place that had known only stillness for countless years.
White mist drifted endlessly. Souls rested, dormant, waiting.
At the center of it all, the Sage of Six Paths slept.
Then— His eyes suddenly snapped open.
Anger surged through them.
But before he could rise, before chakra could gather—
Black feathers fell from the sky.
They did not drift gently. They spread violently, swallowing the Pure Land in seconds.
The white mist was devoured. Replaced by black fog.
The Sage of Six Paths raised his hand, attempting to draw upon chakra—
And failed.
Nothing responded.
No chakra. No authority. No law.
Black feathers wrapped around him, binding without touch, suppressing without force.
For the first time since his death, fear crept into his expression.
"No—"
His resistance was absolute. His will unyielding.
And yet—
Slowly. Inevitably.
His eyes grew heavy.
As if sleep itself had been imposed upon him.
Within moments, the Pure Land was no more.
In its place stood a domain of black mist and feathers—silent, oppressive, eternal.
If anyone from Akira's previous world had seen it, they would have recognized it instantly.
This was not heaven.
This was hell.
---
One minute passed in the ninja world.
Just one.
The towering black pillar began to collapse inward.
The outermost tornado was the first to dissolve—its feathers drawn inward, devoured by the next layer.
Layer by layer. Circle by circle.
The phenomenon consumed itself with terrifying efficiency.
Until finally—
Everything vanished.
The sky cleared. The desert returned to stillness.
At the center, Akira and Yatagarasu dropped heavily to the ground.
Not wounded. Not bleeding.
Simply exhausted.
The chakra drain alone had been overwhelming.
---
Ten minutes later.
Akira remained standing at the center of the formation.
Sasuke, Karin, and the two Ino finally allowed themselves to relax, their tense postures easing as they confirmed that the catastrophic pressure from earlier had completely vanished. Whatever Akira had done—it was over.
Or at least… mostly.
Akira had not canceled his Mangekyō ability.
Ashihara no Michi was still active.
The thousand Akiras surrounding him remained in place, standing motionless in their concentric circles. Their eyes were closed now, expressions serene, as if waiting for a verdict that had yet to be delivered.
The desert wind brushed past them, carrying grains of sand that glittered faintly under the sun.
At the center of it all, Akira stood with his eyes closed, regulating his breathing, calming the turbulent aftereffects within his body. This technique—whether it was called a ninjutsu, a Devil Fruit ability, or something beyond classification—had demanded more than raw power.
Slowly, Akira opened his eyes.
The Rinnegan still spun quietly, heavy with authority.
Without speaking aloud, Akira addressed the system—asking a question only he could hear
"Hey system," he said calmly.
"Confirm this for me. Will there be any threat to life? Any severe aftereffects, backlash, or irreversible consequences after doing this?"
Silence followed.
Not the kind that felt empty—but the kind filled with calculations beyond comprehension.
After several seconds, the system responded.
[All possible outcomes calculated.]
[Result: Positive effects outweigh negative effects.]
[No threat to life detected.]
[No severe or irreversible consequences predicted.]
Akira exhaled softly.
A faint smile curved his lips.
He lifted his gaze toward the sky.
Yatagarasu was hovering high above, its massive black wings spread wide as it circled slowly, surveying the endless desert below—like a sovereign overlooking its domain.
"Yatagarasu," Akira called.
The divine raven paused midair, then descended gracefully, landing before Akira. Its head tilted slightly, eyes sharp and attentive—questioning.
Akira looked at it steadily.
"Do you remember," he asked quietly, "what your name means?"
Yatagarasu nodded.
Long ago, it had asked Akira the same question. And Akira had answered.
Yatagarasu—the divine three-legged raven ( or crow ).
A being tied to destiny, will, fate, strength, and direction.
It's three legs symbol of Heaven, Earth, and Humanity.
An omen of guidance.
Seeing the nod, Akira continued.
"Yatagarasu," he said, his voice steady,
"Do you wish to become a god?"
The raven stilled.
Akira's words did not end there.
"A god who oversees the entire karmic cycle."
"The cycle of reincarnation."
"A being not bound to cause and effect."
"An immortal guide."
For the first time in a long while, Yatagarasu did not respond immediately.
Confusion flickered in its eyes—not fear, but uncertainty.
It knew Akira well enough to understand one thing clearly:
If Akira asked such a question, there was always a reason.
So Yatagarasu thought.
Years ago, if someone had asked it what it wanted, the answer would have been simple.
Endless food.
A safe territory.
A warm, comfortable nest.
Perhaps a female raven.
A peaceful, instinct-driven existence.
But that was before Akira.
Since following him, Yatagarasu had seen how vast the world truly was.
As its strength grew, so did its intelligence—rapidly, relentlessly.
It learned.
It observed human emotions.
Human relationships.
It studied chakra—not just as power, but as technology, as engineering, as structure and system.
Somewhere along the way, instinct had been replaced by curiosity.
A deep, burning thirst for knowledge.
If it were immortal…
It could explore endlessly.
The entire ninja world.
The depths of chakra science.
Perhaps even the sea of stars Akira so often gazed at in silence.
Worlds Akira had spoken of—
A planet of endless oceans and scattered islands.
Worlds tens of thousands of times larger than Chronarch World.
Countless realities beyond imagination.
Time would no longer be a limit.
As these thoughts settled, Yatagarasu slowly nodded.
Firmly.
Akira watched the gesture, his smile widening—not with pride, but with quiet resolve.
"Good," he said.
Then he spoke clearly, his voice carrying absolute authority.
"Yatagarasu"
"I, Akira Uchiha—"
"—will fulfill your wish today."
FORBIDDEN LAW —
FORBIDDEN HEAVEN —
TENTH HEAVEN —
YATAGARASU
---