Danzo's right arm had originally been embedded with ten Sharingan.
Now, under Orochimaru's personal hand, new Sharingan were slowly implanted into the depths of his body, one by one.
The number rose from eleven, to twelve, all the way to twenty...
With each one implanted, the chakra fluctuations intensified, as did the cellular fusion reaction.
Those Sharingan were precisely placed along Danzo's shoulder blades, back, and even the gaps near his collarbones were not spared.
His right arm, consumed by the First Hokage's cells until it resembled tree roots, could barely be called a human limb anymore. It was more like an extension of some grotesque creature.
Stimulated by the new ocular power, the First Hokage's cells did not collapse. Instead, they stirred restlessly like a beast awakening from slumber.
Yet during this new round of fusion, that unrest strangely eased.
Chakra surged back and forth like tides between the Sharingan and the Wood Release Cells, eventually weaving together into a terrifying equilibrium.
In the shadows, the gentle ocular power that had originally come from Shisui's Sharingan had long since been tainted by this chain of violent fusions, becoming cold and profound, exuding an unfathomable sense of danger.
Danzo was now enveloped in an almost demonic, frigid killing intent.
He stood silently in the shadow beside the operating table, beyond the reach of the lights. The bandages on his face had yet to be rewrapped, exposing half of a pale, angular face, his gaze unfathomable.
"The last Sharingan seems to be Fugaku's?"
"Yes... What a pity. It would have been nice if his eyes could have evolved into Mangekyo."
"How terrifying..."
Before the operating table, Orochimaru's face remained half-veiled in shadow, but his movements were as precise as ever.
He removed the Sharingan preserved in a glass container and gently embedded it into the palm of Danzo's outstretched right hand.
This time, unlike the eyes placed along his shoulders and back, it was installed in his palm, as though symbolizing some absolute control.
The instant it was transplanted, the Sharingan seemed to tremble faintly, as though a sliver of consciousness was struggling.
"Fugaku's left eye."
Orochimaru spoke softly, with a trace of regret in his tone.
Of Uchiha Fugaku's two eyes, one was in Danzo's hands, while the other had fallen into Hiruzen Sarutobi's possession, kept as a memento...
"Orochimaru, isn't this form of mine exactly what you wanted to see?"
Danzo spoke blandly, his voice low as a deep pool, without the slightest ripple.
His palm slowly closed, as though that Sharingan had already become an inseparable part of his body.
The Mangekyō Sharingan that belonged to Shisui trembled almost imperceptibly in his right eye, its ocular power surging like a tide.
For some unknown reason, Shisui's and Fugaku's eyes began to resonate within his body.
An icy chakra aura swirled through him like a vortex, making even the surrounding air seem several degrees gloomier.
Danzo rose to his feet, his entire presence becoming even colder and stranger.
He slowly lowered his arm, the palm embedded with Sharingan quietly clenching into a fist.
He rolled his shoulder. Several Sharingan opened and closed in an eerie rhythm, while the veins beneath his skin tangled like roots, faintly pulsing with the throb of life.
The air throughout the laboratory seemed to freeze.
Orochimaru still wore a smile at the corner of his lips, but he did not step any closer.
"I still need to warn you once."
Danzo slowly walked out of the shadows, his steps steady.
"Do not attempt to revive Lord Tobirama."
There was no anger in those words, yet they carried an unquestionable pressure.
Orochimaru froze slightly, then lowered his head and let out a raspy chuckle. The sound was as harsh as scales scraping together, carrying deliberate concession and perfunctory compliance.
"Of course I would not do such a thing... Lord Danzo."
Though quiet, his voice echoed clearly off the walls around them.
He would not contradict him openly, but neither would he obey sincerely.
Danzo understood that perfectly well.
He snorted coldly, a frigid killing intent flashing through his eyes, but said no more.
Orochimaru was still useful for now.
"Do not think I believe you."
Danzo spoke in a low voice as he slowly raised the arm covered in Sharingan.
Twenty-one Sharingan slowly opened beneath the lights, scarlet patterns emerging one by one within their black pupils.
It was as though twenty-one resentful spirits were silently watching this world.
Orochimaru did not answer.
He merely watched quietly, and a rare trace of something appeared in his gaze...
Was it fear?
Was it excitement?
Or perhaps... curiosity?
Perhaps it was all of them.
Danzo stood before him, draped in an eerie chakra aura...
A great many Sharingan had been transplanted into his body...
"Uchiha have reunited in this way, too."
Land of Fire, noon...
There were 43 days left until the Shinobi World's destruction...
Sunlight spilled over a bustling commercial street. Pedestrians came and went, as though the whole world were still immersed in the illusion of peace and liveliness.
Kakashi, wearing an Anbu cloak, slowly passed through the crowd, his gaze settling on the entrance of a somewhat deserted tavern at the street corner.
The door curtain fluttered slightly, and a faint scent of alcohol mixed with charcoal smoke drifted out, carrying an ancient, weighty air.
He pushed the door open and entered.
Under the dim yellow light, Jiraiya sat alone at a wooden table in the corner, with half a pot of sake already gone.
He leaned forward slightly. His usual carefree grin had long vanished, leaving him looking exceptionally quiet.
"Kakashi, you're here."
He did not look up, merely speaking softly. His tone was calm, yet held the certainty of someone who had expected this all along.
Kakashi paused in surprise for a moment, then walked over and sat across from him.
"Lord Jiraiya."
Jiraiya finally raised his head. His weathered eyes were filled with gravity and clarity.
He lifted his cup and took a light sip. Yet rather than drinking boldly as he usually did, he gazed deeply out the window.
"The Great Toad Sage of Mount Myoboku has already contacted me."
His voice was low, yet its gravity was impossible to conceal...
"The Shinobi World... is going to be destroyed."
Kakashi's heart trembled slightly. So it was true.
Jiraiya had not been kept in the dark.
With a meteor about to fall, heaven and earth would naturally sense it. As a native summoning race of the Shinobi World, the toads of Mount Myoboku had already sensed, in the unseen, that fate was collapsing.
"So you were waiting for me here."
Jiraiya nodded, picked up the sake pot, and tipped it back in one gulp. That familiar bold gesture now carried a touch more sorrow.
"I thought that after enduring three Shinobi World Wars, this world could at least gain a little lasting peace."
He murmured to himself, as though speaking to Kakashi, yet also to himself...
"What a pity... In the end, it still could not be avoided."
The Great Toad Sage's voice still echoed endlessly in Jiraiya's mind, low and ethereal, like a prophecy from the end of fate:
"The Cursed Eye shall begin on the night of the blood moon... and curse the entire Shinobi World until the moment of its destruction."
That voice seemed to pierce through time and space, echoing in the depths of Jiraiya's consciousness and making his heart involuntarily tighten for an instant.
"But I still need to bring one more person back..."
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