The moment the Golden Wheel Reincarnation Explosion descended, Susanoo drew its divine blade. The crimson edge clashed with the colossal golden chakra sword, and the impact shook heaven and earth.
The resulting shockwave punched upward through the moon's crust and sent monstrous tides surging through the ocean below. Island after island vanished beneath the apocalyptic tsunami.
The lunar space began collapsing. With the moon breached, gravity shifted—everything was being dragged toward the newly-formed void.
Below, countless ordinary clansmen screamed, flailing helplessly as they were sucked toward the opening. Many from the branch family trembled—their families, friends, and children were among those swallowed by the chaos.
Feeling the resistance against his chakra blade, the branch leader's expression twisted—part agony, part resignation—as he poured even more power into the massive hundred-meter-wide Tenseigan beside him.
Under that escalating force, even Susanoo's towering posture bent—its blade shrieking under strain, cracking like metal at its breaking point.
Impressive. Truly worthy of standing beside the Rinnegan.
Soren grinned.
"But in the end—an eye is only as strong as its wielder."
His mocking voice echoed across the moon.
"Your eyes are magnificent. Shame the same can't be said of the man behind them."
Before the branch leader could react, crimson fragments of Susanoo's shattered weapon scattered—and a broken blade tip now protruded from his chest.
With a casual flick, Soren sent blood spraying across the last trembling shadow-rank branch ninja.
His cold gaze swept across the survivors.
"Submit… or die."
Before the echo faded, the moon ruptured—an entire quarter sheared away with a thunderous detonation.
Under the black void of space and storms of lunar debris, the surviving branch members collapsed to their knees, foreheads pressed to the ground.
Soren laughed—deep, wild, triumphant.
His colossal Susanoo manifested once more. With one motion, its hands grabbed the broken halves of the moon and forced them back together.
The sound was unbearable—like mountains grinding, reality itself resisting.
Yet slowly—impossibly—the moon fused. A twisted, stitched-scar formation spread across the heavens like a repaired porcelain vessel.
"Fixing celestial bodies on my first trip here… tch. Truly exhausting."
He nudged the artificial sun to cover the scarred surface, dusted sweat from his forehead, and stood proudly—hands on hips.
Then—
His expression changed.
The nearest branch ninja nearly fainted.
"…I should've summoned Juno! How did I forget that!? Without that big-mouthed cat, the legend of the shinobi world is incomplete!"
The branch shinobi were now drenched in cold sweat. This man was unpredictable—and terrifying.
Recovering from his theatrical outrage, Soren looked back at them.
"The surname Ōtsutsuki? Drop it. Sounds tacky."
"You'll use Hyūga from now on. The moon and the shinobi world are now one family."
His tone was calm—but absolute.
"…We obey."
The former branch lieutenant—now Hyūga Takajo—bowed deeply, rallying the survivors.
"Good."
Soren nodded.
"You're useless here. Go below. Look at your ruined world."
"Tell me—would you still laugh while destroying others, knowing this is the fate you'd share?"
He waved a hand—and nearly two hundred shinobi vanished, reappearing on the one surviving island.
As they surveyed the devastation, despair broke through their numbness.
"What… have we done?"
"My parents… my children… all dead because of the Golden Wheel…"
"We were wrong. The main family was right. The moon should never have interfered."
"It was our arrogance that caused this calamity…"
Takajo gritted his teeth hard enough to draw blood.
"Enough crying. Survivors still remain—we search. Now."
With the Byakugan, they swept rubble and ocean, retrieving bodies and searching for life. Less than one-tenth remained alive.
Soren stood beneath the colossal golden Tenseigan. Compared to the Rinnegan, this eye was grander—proud, regal, almost divine.
And that Golden Wheel Reincarnation Explosion… flashy, devastating, stylish.
If Susanoo could wield it?
Perfection.
(If I could refine this thing into a divine artifact…)
(Then even if Madara, Hashirama, and Hyūga Tennin teamed up—hell, even if Hagoromo dragged himself back into the world—they'd kneel and sing "Conquest" in apology.)
But first—another stubborn fossil needs handling.
Soren flicked his gaze upward.
"So? Ōtsutsuki Hamura. Done hiding yet?"
His enhanced Eternal Sharingan pierced the golden construct—revealing a hazy figure within.
Step by step, a spirit emerged—dressed nearly identical to Hagoromo, complete with horned brow, but softer in expression and holding a black shakujo staff.
"Descendant of my brother Hagoromo… your growth is beyond expectation."
Hamura's tone held awe—not disdain.
Even the Golden Tenseigan could no longer see Soren's true form—only distorted power layered like the Six Paths.
"Where my brother and I once struggled, you have already stepped forward onto another road."
Soren said nothing—but he remembered the words.
Hamura continued:
"In six years, when the fusion of worlds begins… I pray I too will succeed."
With a wave of his hand, chakra rippled—and hundreds of Byakugan appeared, swirling like stars before merging into the golden eye.
A deep breath seemed to come from the Tenseigan—like waves crashing gently on a shore.
Soren asked quietly:
"Those were your descendants."
Hamura closed his eyes.
"After hundreds of generations… sentiment becomes distance. One day, you too will understand."
A scroll materialized and floated into Soren's hand.
"This contains the method to forge a great Tenseigan. Whether with the Byakugan—or the Sharingan."
"And this moon… will remain mine."
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