"The world claims that Hashirama ended the Warring States and created a new era.
But is that really the truth?"
Madara's voice was calm at first, but there was a cold fury beneath it.
"Do you know what vow Hashirama and I made all those years ago,
atop what is now called the Hokage Rock?
It was to end the Warring States completely—
to create a new world without war.
But the current shinobi world has strayed far from that ideal."
He clenched his hands slightly, eyes burning with conviction.
"During all these years underground,
I have witnessed three great ninja wars.
People never truly understood one another.
All I had to do was lightly stir the surface of the lake,
and their greed and ambition would erupt into towering waves."
"Money, land, hatred, resources…
For such things, the scale of war has grown larger each ti.
Even in the Warring States period, we never saw conflicts so vast and devastating.
All of this—every last bit of it—proves that Hashirama's dream was wrong."
Madara's withered body trembled slightly as he raised his voice—
it was almost unimaginable that such a frail figure could still speak with such thunderous passion.
"That is why I survived!
I lived on to end this era—
to create a new world without war or hatred,
to accomplish what Hashirama could not.
That is the will that has sustained all these years!"
If Hoshiyomi hadn't been a transmigrator,
if he had simply been an ordinary person of this world,
perhaps he might have been swayed by Madara's words—
they carried conviction, even grandeur.
But unfortunately for Madara, Hoshiyomi knew the truth.
He knew the true course of the story.
He knew that Madara, from beginning to end, was rely a pawn manipulated by Black Zetsu.
No matter how passionate Madara's speech was, it couldn't shake Hoshiyomi's resolve in the slightest.
Looking at the ancient, desiccated figure before him, Hoshiyomi felt not anger, but pity.
Madara had spent his entire life chasing a dream shared with Hashirama,
yet he never realized that everything he pursued was only part of another's sche.
Hoshiyomi let out a long sigh.
"You've rely been blinded by what you see before you.
You see the chaos, but not the progress.
From the era of endless war, Hashirama carved out a new world.
This so-called 'new age' has existed for less than a century,
and you dare to declare it a failure?
How can you be so sure that the world won't one day beco
exactly what you and Hashirama once dread of?"
As Hoshiyomi's words fell, Madara's earlier fervor gradually cooled.
When Hoshiyomi finished, Madara's face twisted into a cold smile.
He looked at Hoshiyomi with the sa pity Hoshiyomi had shown him.
"So that's how it is…
Those who've never tasted true despair will never understand my resolve.
There's no point in continuing this conversation.
Stay here, Gekko Hoshiyomi.
Consider it a reward for having found —
I'll make sure your corpse remains intact.
And perhaps your comrades, once they experience the pain of losing you,
will finally co to understand how I feel."
As he spoke, the tomoe in Madara's Sharingan began to spin.
His seemingly lifeless body suddenly exploded with ghostly speed and power.
He was already at death's door—
but he poured all of his remaining life into this one battle.
Like the Eight Gates technique, he was burning his own existence to strike down Hoshiyomi here and now.
From the start, Madara had resolved to fight Hoshiyomi head-on,
even if it ant dying in the process.
Because in the heart of Uchiha Madara,
there was no such thing as retreat.
He was Uchiha Madara—
the man who had once stood shoulder to shoulder with Senju Hashirama at the peak of the shinobi world.
No one… could make him step back.
His frail body now radiated explosive strength.
Each punch he threw split the air, producing deafening sonic booms.
Hoshiyomi, seeing this, refused to yield.
Planting his foot firmly on the ground, he t Madara's charge head-on.
He didn't even draw his blade.
Instead, he t Madara's attack fist to fist.
"Keep here?
With that decrepit body of yours?
Don't get ahead of yourself, old man!"
Their fists collided with a thunderous impact.
The shockwave shattered the rock walls around them,
a testant to the sheer force behind that single exchange.
Truth be told, Hoshiyomi had underestimated him.
He hadn't expected a man so close to death
to be able to unleash such terrifying power in an instant.
The exchange of punches did not leave Hoshiyomi at a disadvantage, but he also failed to suppress Madara, instead falling into a stalemate once again.
The fact that Madara, on the verge of death and burning his remaining life, could still erupt with such power gave a small indication of how terrifying Madara in his pri must have been.
In the midst of the deadlock, Hoshiyomi couldn't help but speak:
"Old man, I really can't underestimate you. Don't go saying I'm bullying the elderly next."
On the other side, Uchiha Madara's mouth twitched slightly. Although burning his remaining life force had allowed his body to briefly return to its forr peak, the intense strain was taking its toll on him.
But Madara was not soone who would ever admit defeat. Seeing the excitent on Hoshiyomi's face, he replied:
"They say you're the strongest of this era. Let see that strength for myself — don't disappoint too much."
Though his expression didn't show it, Madara could feel it clearly — his long-stiff body was warming up again.
Ever since that fateful battle against Hashirama Senju in the Valley of the End, he had been hiding in the shadows, clinging to life.
His once-boiling blood had nearly frozen over during all those years of dormancy. But now, facing Hoshiyomi, he could feel his blood stirring once more, recalling the thrill of his youth.
As they exchanged another fierce round of blows, Hoshiyomi grew increasingly shocked. He could clearly sense Madara's movents becoming smoother and more fluid.
It was obvious that their clash had reawakened Madara's rusted body.
Though Hoshiyomi wasn't being overpowered, his true specialty was swordsmanship, not hand-to-hand combat.
Sidestepping one of Madara's cannon-like punches, Hoshiyomi drew his blade, Mikazuki Munechika, from his waist like a flash of lightning and slashed toward him.
The strike was blindingly fast — like a teor streaking through the sky. Even a typical jōnin, or even an elite jōnin, would stand no chance of surviving such a blow.
Madara's eyes narrowed, the three tomoe of his Sharingan spinning sharply. But Madara was still Madara — with his vast combat experience, he managed an almost impossible evasive maneuver in that instant.
He narrowly dodged the blade at the very limit of his speed, but not completely — Hoshiyomi's Mikazuki Munechika tore through his clothes and left a shallow cut across his body.
As Madara retreated, he glanced at the wound, his eyes strangely alight with excitent. He touched so of the blood, brought it to his lips, and his face showed an almost intoxicated expression.
"How long has it been since I last tasted the blood and thrill of battle? Gekko Hoshiyomi… I must admit, you've made excited again."
"As thanks, allow to show you so of my true skills. But don't die too quickly now."
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