Despite the scorching sun outside, the forest here felt as if it plunged into darkness, enough to slightly obscure vision, though not pitch black. But for three members of the Uchiha clan, all with active Sharingan, it hardly mattered. Shisui perched atop a massive branch, his eyes fixed on the ominous structure a hundred meters ahead, forming a tight "ten-thousand-man" array of perception.
The building lay on the forest floor like a monstrous beast, eerily dark and foreboding. A crow swooped in, landing on Shisui's arm and cawing sharply. His expression instantly turned stern.
"For two days now, bodies have been dumped out here. My contacts say screams echo from within this so-called ruin," Shisui said coldly, and the crow dispersed into smoke. It was one of his and Itachi's summoning animals.
They had patrolled the surrounding woods thoroughly, even setting traps at key spots. Several robed cultists had emerged in recent days—none captured, but their words hinted at larger forces at work.
"Ninjas from Kirigakure were here a few days ago," Shisui continued, "but two of them are dead, and only a couple escaped. So the cultists may be linked to the Mist Village."
Konoha had sent no intel, so Shisui insisted on a methodical, cautious approach. "Rushing in now would be deadly."
At that moment, Tō raised his hand and the Sharingan spotted two cultists stepping out of the ruin, moving toward the forest edge. It was time. "Should we capture one and interrogate?" he asked.
Shisui nodded at Itachi, and the three silently followed.
"What a dull mission—it feels like nothing ever happens; we haven't had a real fight," one cultist complained.
Another sneered: "Maybe soon enough, though." With a flourish, his wide sleeve revealed a blood-red scythe in midair.
He gestured toward the forest. "Come on out—are you hiding?"
The second cultist removed his robe to reveal a black spear about fifty centimeters long, well-crafted and sharp.
Suddenly, Tō stepped on a twig. "Are… you the cult of the Evil God?"
The spear-wielder shot a glance, sneering: "Ha! A child—I didn't expect Konoha to send a kid here!"
He watched as crimson sigils ran from his forehead down his cheeks like a chain, glowing darkly.
Suddenly, the black spear sprang forward. The cultist chanted, "Hail the Evil God! Hail the Evil God!" The seal lights flickered on his face as he lunged.
Tō leapt aside, from precise thanks to months of training. Itachi murmured, "His taijutsu has leveled up—nearly Genin level, maybe even C-rank Chūnin… Tō can keep up."
In midair, Tō drew his ninjatō with a sharp slash. The cultist leapt off the ground, avoiding the blade, and speared forward again. Tō deflected it with a spinning swing of his sword, then landed.
In barely a second, they exchanged two slashes and a few snarls.
"Heh, you're something," said the scythe cultist. His face began to glow with new, round sigils that connected like tadpoles across his cheeks.
"Want to choose your death? Shall I carve you into pieces as the last ninjas, or offer your head to the Evil God?" he hissed.
Tō smirked. "Try me," he said, sheathing his blade and crouching.
The cultist roared and charged—slow, uncoordinated, inferior taijutsu. Not like Hidan's speed. So it's a seal power only, Tō thought.
As he swung the scythe, Tō's Sharingan snapped wide. "Iai Slash!" he yelled, pulling out his blade in a split-second strike.
A powerful clang rang out. An artery spurted crimson across the forest floor. The scythe shattered and flew toward Tō's head.
"Itachi, Shisui—watch out!" they shouted, and Tō vaulted back.
Drawing again, his foot shot out and connected with the cultist's stomach, propelling him into Tō's open arms. The ninjatō swiveled, slicing clean through the opponent's chest.
Without breaking rhythm, Tō punched the cultist's chin. He spun, and the blade severed both legs at the knees—or so it seemed.
Tō backflipped out to distance himself, finally stopping four meters away.
"I've seen immortal god-tier seals before… but try walking on those legs now," Tō taunted—though his thoughts whispered, from comic lore—but effective, too.
The second cultist advanced, but Itachi and Shisui threw shuriken. The spear cultist blocked and dodged, but the scythe bearer had gone pale.
White smoke seeped from his chest and waist—his life energy visibly burning away.
"Tō, are you okay?" Shisui rushed over.
Tō shook his head with a grin. "If his taijutsu was that weak, I could handle it. But I now understand how those Mist shinobi died."
Shisui smiled: "You've uncovered the seal's secret already?"
Itachi's eyes narrowed as realization dawned.
Tō spoke calmly: "From the first strike, I was cautious. His taijutsu was inadequate, yet he charged directly. The other cultist hardly helped. So I stayed alert. When he unveiled his next technique, I already predicted the strike."
Shisui nodded, impressed—Tō's battle awareness was extraordinary.
Tō confessed to mentally reciting from manga: If they're immortal, maybe cutting the legs will slow them. He executed that without hesitation.
Itachi chimed softly: "And I noticed—while you spoke earlier, the scythe cultist was hand-sealing a jutsu under his sleeve. The moment he completed it, the sigils showed on his face. He gained confidence—that's what sealed it."
Tō glanced at him—A hand-sealed chakra jutsu that wrote the sigil and strengthened him? Not quite Hidan's ritual…
If he'd severed the throat, the seal would have failed. But legs… maybe they could regrow, maybe not. That uncertainty was enough.