Sacrifice, Ritual

Deep within a desolate mountain hollow, the air was foul, thick with the stench of blood, sulfur, and an indescribably cloying smell, as if something were slowly rotting.

Jagged boulders and sparse dead trees surrounded a relatively level clearing. Several piles of strangely colored bonfires burned there. Their flames were not the usual orange-red, but a faint, nearly ink-green hue, flickering erratically and stretching the distorted shadows around them long and short.

At the center of the clearing was a circular pit, roughly three or four meters in diameter, built from crude stones and mud.

The pit's rim was stained with dark brown blood, some old and some fresh. At that moment, a nauseating scene was unfolding beside it.

Around twenty or thirty cultists stood around the pit. Men and women alike, they wore worn but matching gray burlap robes embroidered with strange, twisted symbols.

Every one of them looked abnormally excited, their pupils dilated and gleaming with a sickly, almost crazed light. They muttered low, chaotic syllables that sounded like the incoherent ramblings of countless people in their sleep, merging into an unsettling hum.

Five or six sturdy adult men lay sprawled on the ground beside the pit, tightly bound.

They were likely abducted travelers, mountain folk, or townspeople. Their faces were drained of color, their eyes filled with utter terror. Cloth gags stuffed their mouths, leaving them able to make only desperate muffled whimpers.

Several strong male cultists were using rough stone knives to cut shallow wounds across their bodies.

Dark red blood flowed steadily from the wounds, running through deliberately dug channels into the bottomless pit at the center.

As the blood flowed in, an extremely faint gurgling sound, like swallowing, seemed to come from deep within the pit. The cloying, rotten scent in the air grew even stronger.

The three scar-faced men whom Uchiha Shaoyu had controlled with genjutsu to lead the way now walked like puppets to the edge of the cultists' ranks and stopped mechanically, their gazes still vacant.

Shaoyu, meanwhile, lurked soundlessly behind a massive weathered boulder. His Mangekyō Sharingan pierced the dim light and warped flames, taking in everything before him.

He concealed every trace of his presence, blending into the rock's shadow.

He had no intention of saving those people.

He was no saint. In this situation, he was not about to act rashly. What if some evil god appeared and he could not defeat it?

It was better to wait and see.

As for whether these people lived or died, honestly, Uchiha Shaoyu felt it had nothing to do with him.

At most, he cared whether members of the Uchiha clan lived or died.

"Not enough... Not devout enough! Not pure enough!" a harsh, grating voice rang out.

The speaker was an old man standing directly before the pit, draped in a tattered dark-red cloak.

He was hunched over, his face covered in wrinkles and grime. He leaned on a staff topped with some kind of black beast bone.

His eyes were even more fanatical than those of the surrounding cultists, with an added hint of gloominess and greed. Clearly, he was this group's leader, or perhaps their priest.

"These filthy bodies are fit only to serve as kindling for the foundation! A true chosen one requires special qualifications!"

The old priest turned his gaze toward a crude wooden cage at the edge of the clearing.

Two cultists immediately understood. They turned and headed for the cage, roughly dragging a small figure out from inside.

It was a little boy who looked no older than five or six. His clothes were ragged, his body skin and bones, and his small face was covered in dirt. His eyes were empty and numb. It seemed that prolonged imprisonment and terror had robbed him of most of his reactions, leaving only his body trembling faintly on instinct.

The cultists around them grew even more excited at the sight. Their chanting rose higher, as if they had already seen a future in which divine power descended upon them and they would live forever.

The boy was dragged to the pit's edge. Facing the bottomless darkness below, which radiated an ominous presence, as well as the flowing blood and dying groans beside him, a flash of instinctive, absolute terror finally appeared in his vacant eyes. His tiny body stiffened like stone.

Hidden behind the boulder, Uchiha Shaoyu watched it all coldly through his Mangekyō Sharingan.

He could clearly "see" the true nature of that mass of energy at the bottom of the pit.

Mutated, chaotic, inferior—barely clinging to existence by feeding on the pain and emotions of living beings.

He also understood the cultists' intentions. They wanted to create a "human tool" capable of carrying that evil energy.

But if they somehow created someone like Hidan, he really might have a hard time dealing with it.

Shaoyu examined the old priest carefully. There was nothing dangerous about him. Judging by his movements, he was indeed a little stronger than an ordinary person, but only a little.

He should act.

Just as the old priest shouted for them to begin and the cultists prepared to push the boy into the pit—

"Excuse me."

A calm voice sounded. Like a ghost, Shaoyu appeared in the clearing on the other side of the pit, positioned where he could observe the pit, the old priest, and most of the cultists at once.

Rather than standing atop the boulder and looking down on them, he had chosen an angle better suited for movement and observation.

His appearance instantly drew every eye.

The sight of those scarlet eyes, their strange bands of light flowing in the dimness, made everyone's hearts tighten.

"Who are you?!"

The old priest was both shocked and enraged.

"Just passing through."

Shaoyu's answer was so brief it was almost dismissive. He did not even spare the trembling little boy another glance. Instead, his eyes went straight to the depths of the pit, as though they could pierce that darkness and stare directly at whatever lay within.

"Tell me, what exactly is this thing?"

The old priest and the cultists were all stunned by Shaoyu's blunt question, which even carried the air of a demand.

"Arrogant! Blasphemer!"

The old priest's beard trembled with rage.

"How dare you covet Jashin's power! Seize him! Use his blood and soul as a finer sacrifice to Jashin!"

The fanatical cultists were enraged. Howling, they charged at Shaoyu, their weapons and clubs flashing coldly beneath the dark green firelight.

Uchiha Shaoyu did not even furrow his brow. The bands of light in his left Mangekyō turned slightly.

The movements of the five or six cultists charging at the front instantly froze. Their eyes went blank, and then, without warning, the weapons in their hands swung around and slashed viciously at the companions beside them!

"Ah!" "Have you gone mad?!" "It's genjutsu!"

Cries of shock and screams immediately rang out as the cultists' ranks descended into chaotic infighting.

Those controlled by Shaoyu's genjutsu attacked every living thing around them like puppets that felt no pain and feared no death, including the old priest who tried to stop them.

The old priest was shocked and furious, retreating again and again.

Shaoyu paid no attention to the chaos before him. His gaze remained fixed on the pit.

Under the control of his genjutsu, the cultist who had been holding the little boy also let go and joined the melee.

The little boy collapsed beside the pit, ignored by everyone. He merely curled up on instinct, staring in terror at the bloody slaughter around him.

Shaoyu did not look at the boy. He slowly walked toward the pit's edge, avoiding the area of the brawl.

His objective was clear. He wanted to observe it up close, perhaps even...

Try to make contact with or absorb a trace of that evil energy for research and analysis.

If he could obtain a method to summon or control this energy, it might be even more valuable.