System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 357: Chapter 356: The False God and the Anomaly

Amegakure - The Central Tower

The highest tower in Amegakure was a brutalist monument of steel and stone, perpetually shrouded in a tapestry of mourning. The air within its desolate halls was as it always was: damp, heavy, and profoundly gloomy. Here, the endless weeping of the sky was not merely a meteorological phenomenon; it was the heartbeat of a nation locked in eternal sorrow.

Inside the cavernous expanse of the throne room, shadows clung to the cold, metallic walls. The only source of illumination was the faint, gray light bleeding through the massive, open viewing portal that overlooked the drowned city.

Sitting upon a throne of welded pipes and iron, bathed in the dim light, was the undisputed deity of the Rain.

”Pein,” Konan greeted, her voice a monotonous, melodic whisper that barely disturbed the stillness of the chamber. She stepped gracefully out of the shadows, the subtle rustle of her paper-infused robes accompanying her approach.

She stopped at the foot of the dais, her amber eyes devoid of their usual warmth as she delivered the intelligence report. ”Three hundred million Ryo from Iwagakure... it’s here. The transfer was completed through the secure underground channels precisely on schedule.”

Pein’s eyes... the rippling, violet expanse of the Rinnegan... were entirely devoid of human emotion. He remained seated on his iron throne, a statuesque figure wrapped in the black and red of the Akatsuki.

”Good,” Pein acknowledged, his voice a flat, synthesized resonance that echoed hollowly off the metal walls. ”Then it’s time we mobilize our forces and go to Ko—”

The decree died abruptly in his throat.

Konan halted, her perfectly arched brows furrowing in rare confusion as the silence stretched awkwardly. Pein was not a man who hesitated, nor was he one to leave a command unfinished. He operated with the absolute, uncompromising certainty of divine will.

”...Pein?” Konan asked, stepping a fraction closer, searching his pale, pierced face for any sign of distress.

He didn’t reply to her. Instead, Pein shot up from his throne with a sudden, uncharacteristic urgency. He didn’t walk; he dashed, his black cloak whipping sharply around his ankles as he crossed the vast expanse of the throne room, closing the distance to the massive open window in a blur of motion.

”My jutsu...” Pein muttered, his hands gripping the cold steel frame of the viewport.

Konan raised a puzzled brow, her internal alarms flaring as she quickly followed him to the precipice. For years, the Rain Tiger at Will technique had functioned as an infallible, omniscient sensory net, blanketing the village in Pein’s chakra. To disrupt it was to sever the very nervous system of their god.

The moment Konan reached his side and her eyes landed on the impossible spectacle unfolding outside, they widened in absolute, unadulterated shock.

”What’s going on?” she gasped, her usual stoicism fracturing entirely.

The perpetual downpour that defined their isolated nation had shuddered to a halt. The raindrops, normally driven into the earth by the relentless gravity of the storm, were hovering mid-air like millions of suspended, glittering glass beads. And then, defying every fundamental law of the natural world, the rain began to float upward.

”...”

Pein did not answer her. His jaw tightened as he focused his absolute attention on the catastrophic reversal of his domain. He could feel the violent, tyrannical invasion of foreign chakra seizing control of the moisture, physically ripping the water molecules away from his sensory tether.

Channeling the visual prowess of the Rinnegan, Pein focused his gaze, peering upward through the inverted rainstorm, piercing through the gray gloom to look as far into the stratosphere as his divine eyes would allow.

There, hovering directly above the focal point of the anomaly, was a lone figure.

Pein’s eyes narrowed into dangerous, violet slits as the identity of the intruder registered.

”Alaric...”

”What!?” Konan didn’t even know her eyes could widen any further, her breath catching violently in her throat.

High above the city, the millions of gallons of ascending water violently converged. The sheer, staggering mass of the artificial ocean slammed together, boiling and churning as it formed into one colossal, spherical leviathan that briefly blotted out the pale light of the sun. Then, under the crushing pressure of an invisible, god-like grip, the massive ball shrank, hyper-compressing until it was no larger than a modest house, turning a deep, terrifying shade of midnight blue.

The still, impossibly dense sphere of water then shot out of the sky, plummeting directly toward the high tower with the shrieking, apocalyptic velocity of a falling meteor.

”...Pein!” Konan gritted her teeth, her combat instincts hijacking her paralysis. She threw her arms out, immediately drawing upon her vast reserves to gather as much chakra as she could, fully intending to manifest a tidal wave of explosive paper to intercept the projectile.

But before she could unleash her defense, a pale hand shot out, blocking her path.

Pein held out his arm to stop her, his gaze never leaving the descending threat.

Without a word of explanation, Pein stepped off the edge of the tower. He did not fall; utilizing his control over attractive and repulsive forces, he began floating smoothly upward into the chilled air, positioning himself directly in the path of the incoming destruction. Yet, he made no hand seals. He gathered no visible chakra to block, nor did he make any attempt to dodge the strike.

Just as the hyper-compressed water bomb was mere milliseconds away from obliterating the Deva Path and the tower behind him, a second figure blurred into existence.

The Preta Path, a heavyset man with shoulder-length hair and matching Rinnegan eyes, vaulted seamlessly from a higher tier of the tower, intercepting the airspace directly in front of Pein. The corpse threw both of its hands forward, palms facing the roaring projectile.

Blocking Technique Absorption Seal.

The impact was entirely soundless. The devastating kinetic energy and the tyrannical density of the water bomb collided with the Preta Path’s outstretched hands, only to be instantly, violently dismantled. The jutsu collapsed inward, the water vaporizing into harmless mist as the sheer, suffocating volume of Alaric’s chakra was rapidly sucked into the Preta Path’s core, neutralizing the continent-shattering attack in a matter of seconds.

With the immediate threat nullified, Pein did not linger near the safety of the tower.

He accelerated, floating upward fast, his black cloak billowing wildly as he pierced the cloud layer, ascending until he finally met the staggering altitude where the blonde anomaly hovered. However, Pein deliberately kept a cautious distance of fifty meters. Despite his arrogant belief in his own divinity, his tactical mind recognized the extreme peril of the situation; he knew absolutely nothing of this man’s true capabilities, only that Alaric possessed enough raw power to warp reality on a whim.

As Pein stabilized his elevation, the five remaining Paths of Pain seamlessly emerged from the village below, launching themselves into the sky. They took up strategic, flanking positions on the surrounding high-altitude spires and floating debris, silently forming a flawless, omnidirectional combat formation around the intruder.

Pein stared across the freezing expanse of the sky, his Rinnegan locking onto the striking blue eyes of the man in the crimson coat.

”You have shown incredible audacity by intruding upon this sacred airspace,” Pein spoke, his synthesized voice echoing across the heavens with the cold, unyielding weight of judgment. ”To casually shatter the rain that cleanses this land... you have finally appeared in front of a god, Alaric. Tell me, are you actively seeking your own death?”

Alaric, who had been lazily observing the coordinated arrival of the Six Paths, let out a rich, booming chuckle that completely undermined the apocalyptic tension of the standoff.

”Seeking my own death?” Alaric repeated, shaking his head as he brought his cigar to his lips, taking a long, deeply amused drag. He exhaled a plume of smoke that instantly scattered in the high-altitude winds. ”I have to admit, Nagato... I’m really, genuinely amused by this whole ’mighty god’ act you put on.”

The air between them seemed to freeze.

”It’s a very theatrical performance,” Alaric continued, a sharp, mocking smirk curving his lips as he casually leaned forward, completely disregarding the lethal perimeter surrounding him. ”Especially when your original body is currently sitting in a dark, damp cave somewhere miles away, completely emaciated, coughing up blood, and filled to the brim with black chakra rods just to keep yourself alive while you play with corpses.”

Pein’s expression remained carved from stone, but his violet eyes widened by a microscopic fraction.

The reaction was nearly imperceptible, a fleeting tremor in his absolute composure, but it betrayed a profound, internal shock. No one outside of Konan and Obito knew the truth of his physical condition, nor the esoteric mechanics behind the Six Paths. To have his deepest, most vulnerable secret so casually laid bare by a foreigner was a jarring violation of his omniscience.

Yet, Pein expertly masked his reaction, his face smoothing back into its detached, divine apathy. He said nothing, merely shifting his chakra to silently command the surrounding Paths to tighten their formation, preparing to execute the threat before any more secrets could spill from his mouth.

High above, hidden within the thin, icy veil of the stratosphere atop the blazing back of Emberis, Jiraiya observed the confrontation.

The Toad Sage was gripping the golden feathers so tightly his knuckles were stark white. He looked down at the six figures surrounding Alaric, his eyes locking onto the distinct, spiky orange hair of the Deva Path. He gritted his teeth, a profound, agonizing sorrow twisting his weathered features.

’Yahiko...’ Jiraiya thought, his heart aching as he recognized the physical shell of his beloved student, now hollowed out and utilized as a weapon of terror. ’What in the world happened to you all to become this way? Nagato... I never thought that it would end up like this.’

Back in the lower sky, the tension had reached a critical mass.

Alaric’s smirk deepened into something remarkably predatory. His piercing blue eyes, aided by the Mind’s Eye of the Kagura, easily read the massive, gathering surge of chakra pooling within the Deva Path’s core.

”Do you really think,” Alaric called out, his voice laced with patronizing clarity, ”that I don’t know you’re just stalling for time to charge your jutsu?”

Pein raised a single, pale brow, maintaining his facade of absolute, unbothered superiority.

”I don’t know what you are talking about,” Pein replied coldly.

With a swift, decisive motion, Pein raised his right arm, holding his pale hand out directly toward Alaric. The gravitational forces of the world bent to his absolute will, compressing violently into a singular, devastating point of repulsion in his palm.

”Shinra...” Pein commanded, his voice echoing with the promise of destruction.

Alaric didn’t flinch. He merely removed his cigar, his smile turning razor-sharp as he finished the god’s sentence.

”...Tensei.”

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