Chapter 476: Crushing the Reanimated Uchiha Itachi
"Arrogance?"
Uchiha Akira's voice was a soft, chilling murmur. He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over the towering, crimson-armored Susanoo looming before him. A contemptuous smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Orochimaru... you know absolutely nothing of true power. To me, you are nothing."
"Bastard!" Orochimaru's hoarse voice tore from Itachi's throat, twisted by complete fury. "Go to hell!"
Crimson chakra erupted like a volcanic geyser, scorching the very air. The skeletal framework of Itachi's Susanoo rapidly expanded, layering muscle and armor in a blinding flash of red light. The ethereal gourd at its hip flared, and the Sword of Totsuka thrust downward, a blazing streak of sealing fire aimed directly at Uchiha Akira's heart.
Facing the descending blade, Akira merely shook his head. The concentric ripples of his Rinnegan narrowed, cold and utterly unimpressed.
"Since you are so eager to play with the Susanoo..." he murmured, his voice cutting through the roaring winds. "...then I suppose I must show you. I will show you what true power really looks like."
A terrifying pressure—a chakra so dense it defied human comprehension—detonated outward with Akira at its epicenter. The ground fractured instantly under the sheer weight of his presence.
Miles away, deep within a damp, dimly lit underground laboratory, Orochimaru's golden serpentine eyes widened. The smug sneer on his pale face froze, replaced by a mask of absolute horror.
"This... what kind of chakra volume is this?!" he gasped, his cold blood running like ice through his veins.
Back on the battlefield, the deafening crack of condensing bone echoed like rolling thunder. A colossal ribcage materialized, enveloping Akira in an impenetrable fortress of chakra. In the blink of an eye, the construct evolved. Giant skeletal arms formed, followed by a surging network of glowing meridians, woven muscle fibers, and finally, thick, impenetrable armor.
A towering Susanoo rose from the shattered earth, casting a long, dark shadow.
But the transformation was far from over.
"Watch closely, Orochimaru," Akira's indifferent voice echoed, amplified by the colossal avatar, vibrating through the very bedrock. "This is the realm you have spent your miserable life pursuing, yet will never, ever reach."
Akira's Susanoo surged once more. The chakra boiled, solidifying into massive, armored legs that anchored themselves into the earth. The giant's torso shot upward, tearing through the clouds. With a deafening roar of displaced air, a pair of colossal, majestic wings unfurled from its back, stretching wide enough to completely blot out the sun.
One hundred meters.
Two hundred meters.
Three hundred meters.
The moment the behemoth finalized its form, a deathly silence descended upon the ruined battlefield. The wind itself seemed to hold its breath. Uchiha Itachi's crimson Susanoo, which had appeared so majestic just moments ago, was now utterly dwarfed. It looked like a mere toddler standing at the feet of an ancient, wrathful god.
It was a ridiculous, pitiful sight.
"This... this is..." Orochimaru's voice trembled, the connection transmitting his raw, unfiltered terror through Itachi's vocal cords. "The Perfect... Susanoo!"
How could it be so massive? The sheer scale of it defied every record, every theory he had ever studied. But that suffocating fear quickly twisted into cornered madness.
"So what if it's big?!" Orochimaru shrieked, his sanity fracturing.
The crimson Susanoo let out a desperate, mechanical roar. The ethereal flames of the Sword of Totsuka flared violently, leaving a trail of searing heat as it thrust upward toward the towering titan.
Suspended within the glowing pentagonal crystal embedded in the Perfect Susanoo's forehead, Akira looked down. His eyes were devoid of pity, watching the pathetic struggle of the red giant below.
With a mere thought, Akira slowly raised his right hand.
Mirroring his movement, the Perfect Susanoo lifted its massive arm. A colossal blade of pure, concentrated chakra—hundreds of meters in length—condensed into its armored palm.
Susanoo Divine Artifact: Sword of Kusanagi.
Akira's titan gripped the hilt and swung the colossal blade downward in a smooth, merciless arc.
The two divine blades collided violently. The impact sent a shockwave tearing through the atmosphere, ripping the clouds apart. But the clash was not a contest. The Sword of Totsuka, the legendary sealing weapon Orochimaru had pinned all his desperate hopes upon, did not even last a single second.
It shattered.
The ethereal blade snapped under the overwhelming weight of the Kusanagi, dissolving into a shower of useless, fading sparks that rained down upon the battlefield.
Orochimaru was scared out of his wits. The cold sweat of true mortality drenched his real body in the hidden lab.
"No! Block it! Block it for me!" he screamed frantically.
Through his frantic puppetry, Itachi's Susanoo hastily raised its left arm, bringing up the Yata Mirror. The legendary shield, an artifact claimed to possess all nature transformations and the absolute power to deflect any attack, was raised high. Yet, bathed in the colossal shadow of the Perfect Susanoo, the shield looked pitifully frail.
"The Yata Mirror?" Akira sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "In the face of absolute power, there is no such thing as an absolute defense."
He commanded the blade. "Slash."
The towering Susanoo warrior shifted its stance, gripping the massive hilt with both hands. With devastating momentum, it brought the Sword of Kusanagi crashing down in a fierce, vertical hack. Even before the glowing edge made contact, the sheer, crushing wind pressure preceding the strike caused the earth below to buckle, crack, and cave in.
The feet of Itachi's crimson Susanoo sank deep into the collapsing bedrock. Its red armor let out a horrific, overburdened groan as the Sword of Kusanagi slammed heavily against the surface of the Yata Mirror.
A crisp, agonizing sound of shattering glass echoed across the wasteland. Spiderweb cracks exploded across the legendary shield.
Without a moment's hesitation, Akira's titan raised the colossal sword and brought it slamming down a second time.
"Nooooo!"
Orochimaru's desperate roar was drowned out by the apocalyptic crash. The giant blade cut through the air with unstoppable, world-ending force. It smashed into the fractured Yata Mirror, obliterating the divine artifact into a million glowing shards.
With its momentum entirely unchecked, the Sword of Kusanagi slammed violently into the main body of Itachi's Susanoo.
The red giant instantly disintegrated. The chakra framework collapsed like a house of cards in a hurricane. A terrifying shockwave swept outward in all directions, literally scraping a thick layer of topsoil off the surrounding landscape and uprooting the distant tree lines.
Stripped of all defenses, Itachi's reanimated body was smashed mercilessly into the depths of the earth by the sheer force of the blow.
The dust began to settle.
Akira deactivated the Perfect Susanoo. The towering titan dissolved into wisps of fading chakra as he slowly floated down, descending gracefully into the center of the massive crater.
At the bottom of the ruined pit lay the broken, battered form of the Edo Tensei Itachi. His paper-like flesh was flaking and shifting, slowly attempting to stitch his shattered limbs back together under the regenerative curse of the reanimation jutsu.
Akira stood over him, looking down with eyes as cold as the abyss.
"It is time to end this farce."
He extended his right hand, aiming his palm directly at Itachi's skull.
Rinnegan: Visual Prowess Eruption.
An invisible, crushing psychic storm instantly enveloped the reanimated Uchiha.
"Aaaaaah!" Orochimaru's shrill, agonizing scream tore from Itachi's mouth.
The reanimated body twitched and convulsed violently. Under the overbearing, magnetic pull of Akira's visual prowess, a phantom-like White Snake Shadow was forcibly dragged out from Itachi's chest, writhing and hissing in the air.
"No! Uchiha Akira! You cannot—!"
"Noisy," Akira muttered.
He waved his hand with casual disdain. A concentrated wave of repulsive force blasted outward. The White Snake Shadow was struck head-on, instantly dispersing into a cloud of nothingness.
The remote link was completely severed.
Thousands of miles away, in the damp darkness of his underground base.
"Pfft!"
Orochimaru violently coughed up a large mouthful of black blood. His entire body slumped heavily into his stone chair, his pale skin turning an unhealthy, sickly gray. His breathing was ragged, his expression extremely haggard. The mental backlash of having his Edo Tensei connection so brutally and forcibly severed tore at his mind.
"Monster..." Orochimaru wheezed, wiping the thick blood from the corner of his mouth with a trembling hand. His golden snake-like eyes, usually so full of cunning arrogance, were now dilated with deep, unadulterated fear. "Uchiha Akira... just what kind of monster are you...?"
Back on the silent battlefield.
With Orochimaru's parasitic will entirely expelled, the hollow, deadened look in Itachi's sclera-blackened eyes gradually faded, replaced by a flickering hint of clarity.
Itachi blinked, his consciousness returning. The first thing he saw was the desolate, dust-choked sky.
And then... a familiar face.
Uchiha Akira stood over him, hands clasped loosely behind his back, looking down with an expression utterly devoid of warmth.
Itachi's pupils instantly constricted to the size of pinheads.
A primal, uncontrollable terror seized him, completely consuming his usually stoic reason. His body reacted before his mind could process the reality of the situation. He scrambled backward on all fours, his fingers digging frantically into the loose dirt. Even though he was housed in an immortal Edo Tensei vessel, the psychological trauma was so deep that his paper-ash form began to tremble violently.
"Akira... Akira..." Itachi gasped, his voice cracking.
Scenes from the past flashed wildly before his eyes, spinning like a blood-soaked lantern.
That night. The night he had stood in the compound, self-righteously intending to slaughter his entire clan, his own flesh and blood, all for the twisted sake of Konoha's peace.
Only to be effortlessly, brutally trampled underfoot by the man standing before him.
He remembered the agonizing sensation of his defeat. He remembered Akira standing over him, reaching down, and forcibly gouging his Mangekyo Sharingan straight from his skull. The phantom sensation of that piercing, blinding pain still echoed in his hollow eye sockets, leaving him paralyzed with lingering dread.
And then came the Clan-wide Public Trial.
He remembered being bound and forced to listen as the very clansmen who had once revered him as a genius spat on him, cursing his name to the heavens. He remembered the absolute, crushing despair that had hollowed out his chest when his beloved little brother, Sasuke, looked him in the eye and declared that he hated him more than anything in the world.
Every agonizing detail was still vividly burned into his soul.
"It seems you haven't forgotten," Akira noted, observing the pathetic, trembling wreck before him.
He slowly crouched down, the hem of his dark robes brushing the ruined earth. He reached out, his gloved hand gently patting Itachi's cold, ash-covered cheek. The gesture was terrifyingly intimate, mocking the gap between them.
"Don't be afraid," Akira murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, almost gentle whisper. "You are already a dead man, Itachi. Dead men cannot feel physical pain."
A cruel smirk finally broke through Akira's indifferent facade.
"However..."
Akira's fingers slid down, his grip suddenly tightening like a vice around Itachi's jaw. He jerked the reanimated shinobi's chin upward, forcing Itachi to lift his head and look directly into the captivating, inescapable rings of his Rinnegan.
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