Dance, Rakshasa.
Show your strength. Your potential.
In this world, there is no one besides Hashirama who matters in my eyes.
Entertain . Prove yourself worthy.
On the distant hilltop, Uchiha Madara's ancient form trembled—not with weakness, but with sothing that had been dormant for decades. Excitent. Anticipation. The blood in his veins, long grown cold with age and isolation, was finally beginning to burn again.
If only—if ONLY—this body were still in its pri. If only he could descend to that battlefield himself, et this boy face to face, and test his ttle with his own hands.
But even from afar, even through the eyes of a controlled beast, this was… exhilarating.
On the battlefield, King Mu had stopped its indiscriminate destruction. Its massive head was fixed on Ragnar, its Sharingan eyes burning with malevolent purpose.
Through those three tomoe, Ragnar could sense it—a presence behind the beast. A consciousness lurking in the darkness, watching, judging, controlling.
Uchiha Madara.
The na crystallized in Ragnar's mind with cold certainty. Only one Uchiha in history could seize control of a fully manifested Tailed Beast and bend it to their will. Only one had ever achieved true unity with these ancient creatures.
But why? Ragnar wondered. Why target the Three Villages? Why reveal yourself through this attack?
The answer, when it ca, was simpler than he expected.
He's testing .
A strange calm settled over Ragnar. All his training, all his battles, all his relentless pursuit of power—it had all led to monts like this. To standing against legends. To proving that his ambition was not empty pride.
If Madara wants a show, he thought, then let him watch.
His hands ca together with a thunderous SLAP.
*"Golden Body Transformation: Manifest Buddha!"
Golden light exploded from his form.
It began as a faint glow on his skin, then intensified, brightened, beca blinding. Ragnar beca a sun—a radiant, burning presence at the center of the battlefield.
From the void, a sound erged. Distant at first, then growing. Chanting. The deep, resonant intonation of ancient sutras, echoing across the plains. The sound carried peace, calm, transcendence. Ninja who had been frozen in terror felt their hearts steady, their fear quiet, their spirits soothed.
Behind Ragnar, sothing took shape.
Golden. Massive. Divine.
The Buddha erged.
Last ti, it had been sixty ters—an awe-inspiring giant, but still within mortal comprehension. This ti, it was more. Over one hundred ters of pure, radiant gold, towering over the Five-Tails like a parent over a child. Behind its head, a halo of golden light floated—a mark of true transcendence, of power that had moved beyond re technique into sothing sacred.
Ragnar's body rose, rging with the Buddha's center. He beca its heart, its mind, its will.
The Buddha opened its eyes.
And the world held its breath.
"Iwa's ninja fell to their knees.
Not from gravity. Not from fear. From reverence.
"A god," one whispered, tears streaming down his face. "A true god has descended!"
"Buddha… the Buddha has co to this world!"
Even Suna ninja, raised in a different spiritual tradition, found their knees bending. So force beyond their control—beyond any control—pressed them toward the earth in worship.
The Third Kazekage watched his ninja kneel and could not stop them. His eyes were fixed on the golden colossus, and behind the horror, behind the shock, sothing else was forming.
A thought. A desperate, mad, beautiful thought.
If that power… if that presence… could be turned… could be used…
He pushed the thought away. For now. But it lingered at the edges of his mind, waiting.
In the Konoha camp, the Sannin stared in stunned silence.
"Stronger than last ti," Orochimaru murmured. "So much stronger."
Jiraiya's jaw worked, but no words ca. Finally, he managed: "I need to train. I NEED to train. Mount Myōboku. The toad sages. Ten summons, nine failures—I have to get serious!"
Tsunade said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on the golden figure at the Buddha's heart, and her heart swelled with sothing too large to na.
Ragnar. My little brother.
On the hilltop, Madara's composure finally broke.
"YES!" The roar tore from his throat, raw and powerful despite his failing body. "YES! THIS IS IT! THIS IS WHAT I CA TO SEE!"
His ancient eyes blazed with a fire that had been cold for decades.
"The Buddha! The power of the Senju! And the will—the will of the Uchiha! This boy carries both! He IS both!"
Black Zetsu watched with growing unease. This Rakshasa grew too fast. Too powerful. If he could not be used, he would have to be removed.
But for now, he said nothing.
On the battlefield, King Mu faced the Buddha.
For the first ti since its manifestation, the Five-Tails seed to hesitate. Its massive form, seventy ters of pure destruction, suddenly looked small before the golden colossus.
But the Sharingan in its eyes flared, and hesitation beca rage.
*"ROOOOAR!"
King Mu charged.
Its massive horns—weapons that had once pierced the Eight-Tails—lowered like spears. Its five tails lashed behind it, propelling it forward with terrifying speed. The ground shattered beneath its hooves. The very air scread as it was displaced by the beast's mass.
The Buddha watched its approach with serene, compassionate eyes.
Then it raised one massive golden fist.
*"Shockwave: Buddha's Wrathful Fist."
The fist descended.
Not fast. Not rushed. Simply… inevitable.
*BOOM!
The impact was cataclysmic. Shockwaves radiated outward in visible rings, flattening everything for miles. Mountains in the distance cracked. Rivers vaporized. The earth itself seed to flex under the force.
King Mu was hurled backward like a child's toy. It tumbled across the devastated landscape, carving new canyons with its passage, before finally—finally—coming to a stop.
Before it could rise, the Buddha moved.
One golden hand reached down, massive fingers closing around the Five-Tails' neck. It lifted the ancient beast as easily as a man might lift a dog.
*"Roooar…?" The sound was different now. Uncertain. Afraid.
King Mu struggled. Its tails thrashed, each blow powerful enough to level mountains, but against the golden flesh of the Buddha, they might as well have been whispers. Its hooves kicked. Its horns jabbed. Nothing worked.
The Buddha held it aloft, serene and terrible, and looked into its Sharingan eyes.
And through those eyes, Ragnar looked back at the man in the darkness.
Is this enough? that gaze asked. Is this enough to prove myself?
(End of Chapter)
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