Black Zetsu's Backstab

At the top of the God Tree, that flower was blooming.

The moment the light of the Infinite Tsukuyomi descended, the flower had already bloomed to its fullest. Its petals were no longer ordinary petals, but translucent, wing-like things made of pure Chakra. They slowly fluttered beneath the blood-red moonlight, like a giant butterfly beating its wings.

Madara stood at the center of that flower.

His three eyes looked down upon the earth, upon those cocoons, upon the entire world covered by the God Tree. The blood-red moonlight fell over him, reflecting a dull gleam from his purple-black Six Paths Chakra cloak. The Nine-Tomoe Rinnegan on his forehead reflected the Nine-Tomoe Rinnegan on the moon, like two mirrors facing each other, stretching their images endlessly into the distance.

There was a smile at the corner of his lips.

It was not the feverish, bloodthirsty smile with a trace of madness that he wore in battle. Nor was it the childish, competitive smile he showed when facing Hashirama. It was calmer, deeper—a smile like that of a man who had traveled too far and finally saw the light at his doorstep.

He did not laugh loudly, did not cackle, did not shout any declaration at the sky. He simply stood there, at the center of the flower, beneath the blood-red moonlight, the corners of his lips slightly raised, like a child who had finally finished his homework—no, like an old man who had finally fulfilled the wish of a lifetime, carrying a weary, satisfied calm that no longer needed to prove anything.

He slowly descended from the top of the God Tree.

His feet touched the ground—not the petals atop the God Tree, but the true ground of this land, though it was covered in the God Tree's roots. Loose stones