The noisy and dense sound of rain from the outside world was cut off by Zetsu. After entering this space, it was replaced by a strange silence. It was not complete silence, but more like sinking into a thick liquid where the passage of time became blurred, filled with a raw and hard to describe presence.
What made Nagato feel most uneasy was the sense of being watched that existed everywhere. He could clearly feel that every inch of this space carried a cold, ancient will filled with malice. The shadowy outlines in the mist looked like pupils watching him, yet when he focused, there was nothing there.
"Who are you?" Nagato shouted, his voice traveling outward without end, as if the place had no boundaries. He frowned, took a step forward, and chose a direction to walk.
As Nagato moved forward, it felt like walking from the shore into the sea step by step. The heavy pressure rose little by little, passing his chest and making him uneasy and short of breath. His steps slowed, but he did not stop.
Then it happened. A drop of blood fell onto the ground beneath Nagato's feet, rippling as if it had landed on water. The red color spread across his vision.
He finally saw the sea of blood beneath him, with everything before his eyes filled by black and red. Within those colors were countless pale bones piled up into a mountain of corpses before him. At the top of that mountain, on a throne of white bones, a figure sat quietly.
One hand rested casually on a skull, while the other supported his chin. His eyes were not fully open, lids half lowered with thick lashes casting shadows. He looked as if he could not be bothered.
"You…" Nagato looked up at the figure atop the corpse mountain and opened his mouth when he saw that face. The figure slightly raised his eyes and looked down at Nagato.
Silence followed, heavy and absolute, more threatening than any words. That gaze did more than see, as Nagato felt his soul and essence being cut apart and examined piece by piece. The sensation made his soul tremble in fear.
Since mastering the Rinnegan long ago, he had not felt this way again. The last time was when Yahiko died before his eyes, when he felt truly weak and helpless. Now, under that high and distant gaze, Nagato felt it again and finally understood a fact.
"There is something within Hanzo that even Zetsu cannot touch."
Under the threat rising from deep within his soul, Nagato instinctively avoided the gaze and lowered his head. The shame and unwillingness that followed came from his heart. He was Pain, a god, yet he was showing fear.
The untouchable existence in Nagato's eyes was naturally Ryuji Hyuga, who dwelled deep within Hanzo's soul, and this scene did not surprise him. With Nagato's mental state already close to collapse from the Outer Path Statue and the Rinnegan, even after being subjected to Yakushi Kabuto's Impure World Reincarnation, he was still weak. Entering this place made him nothing more than prey on a board.
Here, Ryuji Hyuga was the master of all things and the only law of this space. He withdrew his gaze, as if he had seen an old object with brief interest only to find it poorly made. His expression returned to indifference.
"Whether you die or he dies makes no difference." His eyes were lowered, and his voice was low and slow, rough like stone grinding. "For the sake of those eyes, I will spare you once, but there will be no next time."
Nagato pulled himself out of fear and suddenly raised his head, his expression dark. He stared at the figure on the corpse mountain and said, "Why is it for the sake of these eyes and not for me?" These Rinnegan were clearly his, and he was born to lead the world to peace as a god.
Almost the instant the words fell, Nagato saw the corner of that mouth lift slightly. It was not a smile, but a faint trace of contempt and annoyance. A single sound escaped.
"Hm."
That one syllable carried no meaning, yet it was more frightening than any words. Ryuji Hyuga finally raised his eyes, and the deep blue pupils moved like currents beneath a calm sea. In that moment, Nagato lost all courage.
Ryuji Hyuga once again reproduced the full pressure of the Tenseigan. Under that gaze from above, Nagato felt an unfamiliar sense of smallness from the depths of his soul, sharp enough to hurt. It was not the look of a human at another human, nor the cold look of a god at mortals, but more like looking at an object.
The gaze was no longer an examination, but a fixation. Nagato felt that his form, soul, thoughts, and even his existence were completely seen through and pinned in place. He could not move or resist.
"Who do you think you are?" Ryuji Hyuga said, his voice cold and heavy, filled with impatience. "You are nothing more than a low container meant to carry those eyes." He continued, "Without eyes that do not belong to you, you would be nothing but a weak ant."
As the words ended, Ryuji Hyuga raised his arm and extended a finger. Nagato's soul froze as the Root finger pointed at his face and slid lightly. A silent force struck, and his right arm separated from his shoulder, broken by a Lie cut.
It was not over. Ryuji Hyuga made another light motion. His left leg separated from his body.
More Lie marks appeared across Nagato's spirit body. His limbs and torso separated yet floated in midair, making him look like a dismantled puppet. Pale white particles drifted from the broken edges.
"Ah!" The pain from the soul was more terrifying than any Kunai. Muscles, skin, bone, and even thought felt torn apart, forcing a shrill scream from Nagato. The hoarse voice that reached him seemed to carry a hint of pleasure, fed by his fear and cries.
"Treasure the rest of your hard-won life," he said softly. "Stepping over ants without crushing them takes control." He added, "Remember this. If you enter here again, no matter whose piece you are, you will be crushed."
As the words faded, the entire space seemed to come alive. The shadows in the mist surged forward, and the sea of blood beneath his feet began to churn. Nagato's shattered soul was roughly seized, wrapped by countless Root invisible chains, and dragged away.