Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

”Hmph!”

A barely perceptible snort echoed through this mysterious space, yet it seemed capable of making the very laws of reality tremble.

The vast power surrounding Hagoromo—a power that had lain dormant for who knew how long and whose essence far surpassed ordinary Chakra—stirred slightly in response to his irritation, disturbing the eternal silence around him.

Deep within his eyes, the phantom image of the Rinnegan flashed and vanished, carrying a chill cold enough to freeze time and space.

The Heavenly Curtain—or rather, the ”existence” behind it—had stirred up turmoil and overturned people’s understanding time and again. Its purpose was clearly not mere amusement or entertainment.

From twisting his original intentions to outright ”denying” his very existence, it had pressed forward step by step. Whatever it sought, its ambitions were clearly far greater.

I’d like to see just what the one behind all this is trying to accomplish.

For the first time in a long while, his detached state of mind was disturbed by this absurd narrative—one that struck at the very foundation of his existence—and a coldness belonging to a participant rather than a mere observer stirred within him.

”Good Corpse and Evil Corpse... Hah.”

Regarding this fabricated ”Three Corpse Technique” and its seemingly self-consistent theory of clones acting in his place, he could only offer a cold, inscrutable sneer.

It might appear to patch the plot holes, but in his eyes, it was riddled with flaws and merely made the whole farce even more ridiculous.

The Moon — Sealing Space

Unlike Hagoromo, with his irritation and cold detachment, Ōtsutsuki Kaguya—who was likewise ”watching” the Heavenly Curtain—was in an entirely different state of mind.

As the Heavenly Curtain replayed the scene of her being sealed away by her two ”unfilial sons,” not a ripple appeared in her pale, Byakugan-like eyes. She watched as though it were a play that had nothing to do with her, with even a trace of detached indifference.

A thousand years of imprisonment had long since caused certain intense emotions to settle and solidify—or transform into something deeper.

However, when the story reached her ”dear eldest son,” the Sage of Six Paths—who first stole the spotlight with that fabricated ”Three Corpse Technique,” only to be effortlessly hooked by an inexplicable fishing line moments later, screaming miserably as he was dragged helplessly into an unknown void...

No expression appeared on Kaguya’s eternally frozen, flawless face.

But if anyone could have sensed her thoughts at that moment, they would have discovered a peculiar, almost satisfying feeling stirring within.

Fake.

Having personally experienced everything, she naturally knew that everything shown by the Heavenly Curtain was complete nonsense.

What fisherman? What true body of the Sage of Six Paths being reeled away? Utter absurdity.

And yet...

Watching that son of hers—the one who had always cast himself as the ”savior,” the ”founder,” and the one who stood on the side of righteousness, the very son who had sealed his own mother here—suffer in such a pathetic, helpless, and absurdly laughable manner...

From the depths of Kaguya’s heart arose an irrepressible sense of satisfaction.

It was the most instinctive and direct pleasure imaginable: the long-suppressed feeling of a victim seeing the one responsible for her suffering finally receive retribution.

Logic had nothing to do with it.

It was purely emotional.

It was as though a faint current of malicious warmth had seeped through the icy stone walls of her thousand-year prison.

Or as though a twisted yet dazzling firework had suddenly exploded within an eternity of suffocating darkness.

Watching her ”son” suffer misfortune—even if it was fake—was actually... rather satisfying.

Within the Heavenly Curtain, Black Zetsu remained hidden in the shadows, watching from afar as the residual presence of the Sage of Six Paths lingered in the distance. He remained concealed, his eyes gleaming with a dark and sinister light.

He had personally witnessed the Sage of Six Paths’ true body being dragged into ripples of space-time by that bizarre fishing hook, while the Good Corpse and Evil Corpse were sent flying by an overwhelming force and severely injured.

The fear brought by that mysterious fishing line still churned within him, but an even stronger desire for revenge had already overwhelmed everything else.

The opportunity he had been waiting for had finally arrived.

Without the slightest hesitation, Black Zetsu transformed into a traceless shadow and sped toward a mountain cave where the Evil Corpse had fallen.

Elsewhere, Gamamaru crouched atop a stone platform, staring blankly at the fishing line in the Heavenly Curtain that had pierced through time and space.

That unfathomably terrifying power made every hair on his body stand on end. The shock it brought was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

He raised a forepaw and rubbed his furrowed brow, his voice trembling as he muttered to himself.

”So the origins of Senjutsu and the Three Corpse Technique... weren’t fortunate opportunities at all. Someone deliberately arranged for them to exist?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Gamamaru seemed to connect all the pieces at once. His expression immediately turned grave, his eyes filling with lingering fear and alarm.

”No. No one can be allowed to continue practicing these two techniques!”

He gritted his teeth, his voice filled with determination.

”Otherwise, sooner or later, I’ll end up just like Hagoromo!”

After a brief moment of thought, Gamamaru wasted no more time. With a kick of his hind legs, he hurried toward the place where the Good Corpse had fallen, not even sparing a glance for the vegetation swaying behind him.

The scene descended into the shadows of a jagged mountain range before finally settling upon the entrance to a deep, secluded cave.

A pitch-black figure, almost completely merged with the surrounding darkness, stood there in utter silence.

It was Black Zetsu.

His pupil-less ”eyes” were fixed upon the depths of the cave, where a faint yet unmistakable pulse of Chakra could be felt—violent and chaotic, weakened by severe injuries, yet still retaining a terrifyingly vicious nature.

Black Zetsu did not enter immediately.

Like the most patient hunter—or perhaps the most cautious visitor—he remained motionless at the entrance for a long moment before finally sinking deeper into the shadows and silently slipping inside.

Deep within the cave, a figure sat cross-legged upon a broad, flat boulder with his eyes half-closed.

It was the Evil Corpse, who had been blasted away by the invisible force of that ”fishing line.”

Sensing an intruder’s presence, the Evil Corpse abruptly opened his eyes.

Those eyes possessed the same Rinnegan as the Sage of Six Paths’ true body, but they were now filled with lingering ferocity and pain. His gaze was like poisoned shards of ice as it pierced toward the cave entrance.

”Black Zetsu. It’s you.”

The Evil Corpse’s voice was hoarse, weakened by his injuries.

Yet the aloof, superior tone inherited from the original still remained.

His expression was utterly calm, as though Black Zetsu’s arrival came as no surprise. Only the violent Chakra that he could not completely suppress—an aura that seemed capable of tearing apart space itself—silently revealed the terrifying impact he had just endured.

Black Zetsu stopped several yards away from the Evil Corpse, maintaining a distance that gave him enough time to react while still allowing them to speak.

The darkness surrounding him rose and fell faintly like a wary tide.

After an even longer silence, as though repeatedly confirming and assessing the condition and nature of the being before him, he finally spoke.

His voice was low, carrying a penetrating note of interrogation.

”The true body was reeled in.”

Black Zetsu deliberately emphasized the words true body, his gaze sharp as a hook as he searched the Evil Corpse’s face for the slightest change.

”Then who... are you?”

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