Gamamaru slowly raised his eyes toward the starless sky. His voice was filled with exhaustion, as though he were recounting a tragedy whose ending had already been decided.
"When Hagoromo saw that I had lived for such an extraordinarily long time, he stubbornly became convinced that I—or rather, Mount Myōboku—possessed the secret to transcending death and attaining immortality."
"He attacked me from the shadows. His target was... the inherited treasure passed down through generations at Mount Myōboku, an object containing the mysteries of nature's origin."
"What he sought was not greater power, but... the means to achieve immortality."
"Only immortality could make his ambition of 'eternal rule' possible."
Every word was like an icy chisel striking against everything Indra thought he knew.
He stood frozen as if struck by lightning, his blood seeming to turn to ice.
Cold calculation. Greed for immortality. An obsession with eternal rule...
Those words were utterly incompatible with the image he carried of his wise and gentle father—the man who had taught him about love and understanding.
The figure Indra had admired, feared, and wished to surpass was now distorted by Gamamaru's account into something unfamiliar and terrifying: a cold silhouette seated upon a throne of power and desire.
"So, Indra," Gamamaru said, withdrawing his gaze and shaking his head wearily, as though looking at a child destined to enter a forest of thorns, "forget everything you heard tonight. Don't ask any more questions, and don't try to involve yourself."
"Where this world ultimately goes, and what your father eventually becomes... those are no longer things you or I can change. Perhaps all we can do is... leave it to fate."
With that, Gamamaru said nothing more. His body seemed heavier than before as he slowly turned and limped into the thick, impenetrable darkness of the forest.
His lonely back resembled that of a witness to an entire era, silently retreating into the shadows of history.
Indra remained alone, standing like a statue.
The night wind swept past him, bringing a piercing chill, but it could not calm the storm raging in his heart. Shock, disillusionment, betrayal, and overwhelming uncertainty about the future swallowed him like a swamp.
He didn't know how much time passed.
Perhaps it was an instant.
Perhaps it was eternity.
Then he suddenly took a deep, long breath.
The cold air filling his lungs seemed to carry with it the strength of a decision.
The confusion and shock on his face receded like a tide, replaced by an unprecedented cold determination rising from the depths of his soul.
He murmured quietly, his voice not loud, but every word was absolute—as though he were burning away his old beliefs and forging a new will.
"Fate?"
A nearly mocking smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, his eyes sharp as a freshly drawn blade.
"Why should the future of Indra be decided by something as vague and intangible as 'fate'?"
"My path, my will, my power... should always be ruled by me alone!"
As his words fell, it was as though he had undergone a baptism and transformation of the soul.
The last trace of attachment and confusion he held toward his father's path vanished completely. In its place remained pure, cold resolve—and a blazing light in his eyes as he prepared to walk a path that truly belonged to him, a path of resistance and conquest.
His Three-Tomoe Sharingan emerged automatically and spun wildly before transforming into a unique pattern.
Indra no longer hesitated. He stepped forward resolutely and continued toward the Ninshū.
But this time, his steps were steady and powerful as he walked through the moonlight, without the slightest hesitation—and without even the faintest trace of the filial admiration or illusions he had once held toward the father who had now, in his eyes, "changed."
Ahead lay the Ninshū.
His father.
And the beginning of the path on which they were destined to part ways—perhaps even... to one day raise their weapons against each other.
Yet the shadows of the forest did not return to peace after Gamamaru's departure.
A moment later, space rippled faintly, and Gamamaru's figure slowly reappeared where he had stood.
He had never truly left.
He had merely concealed his presence.
Now, his ancient eyes watched the direction in which Indra had disappeared. The exhaustion and pity from earlier were gone, replaced by deep, cold calculation.
"Will this move... truly succeed?" he murmured, a barely perceptible trace of doubt in his voice. "The gap between Indra's strength and Hagoromo at his peak is as vast as the distance between heaven and earth. Even if Hagoromo's condition is unusual now, Indra alone..."
"Hehehe..."
A cold, slippery, hoarse laugh—like a serpent crawling across the ground—suddenly sounded from the darkest shadow beside him.
The darkness writhed and gathered like melting tar, eventually taking the distinctive, unnatural form of Black Zetsu itself.
Its peculiar voice, neither male nor female, was filled with amusement and malice.
"A gap? That depends on which version of Hagoromo you're comparing him to."
"Indra's ocular power has evolved once again through hatred and resolve. Compared to the Hagoromo who once sealed Lady Kaguya, of course, he's still insignificant."
Black Zetsu paused. Then its tone shifted sharply, carrying a cold note of malicious delight.
"But the current Hagoromo is no longer the 'Sage of Six Paths' he once was."
Gamamaru's brows rose sharply, a gleam flashing in his eyes as he immediately demanded, "What exactly happened to Hagoromo? Ever since he forcibly took the inherited treasure from me, I moved away from Mount Myōboku's original location and remained hidden in secret. I've never seen him since. Could he truly...?"
Black Zetsu laughed even more pleasantly, as though savoring a wonderful secret.
"For the sake of his grand dream of 'connecting all living beings,' Hagoromo has spent the past year or two tirelessly dividing his own source chakra and distributing it among those so-called 'chosen ones.' The larger the chakra network of the Ninshū grows, the weaker his own body becomes."
"You could say that while he still bears the name 'Sage of Six Paths,' he's actually little more than a hollow shell—far weaker than he appears."
It paused, its voice filled with temptation and malice.
"Even if Indra can't kill Hagoromo on this journey, he'll certainly cause him tremendous trouble. He'll leave him overwhelmed and perhaps even... shake the conviction that supports his seemingly unwavering path."
"A father and son turning against one another. Ideals collapsing. Is there anything that could strike a greater blow against a 'god'?"
Gamamaru fell silent for a moment and gave Black Zetsu a long look. Numerous complicated emotions passed through his gaze—an assessment of the plan, wariness toward Black Zetsu, and an indescribable feeling regarding Hagoromo's current state.
In the end, he shook his head. His tone carried both caution and confusion.
"Is causing him 'trouble' truly all you want? You've gone to such lengths, woven lies, manipulated Indra, and even exposed part of the truth... Is your objective really limited to that?"
"The 'meaning' behind all this hardly seems worthy of the effort you've invested."
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