The dying Obito suddenly regained a sliver of clarity amid the bone-piercing agony. His aged face was covered in mud and cold sweat, and his throat produced a hoarse, wheezing rasp. He stared at Black Zetsu, half of whose body had bored into his flesh and seized control of him. A flash of resolve passed through his remaining left eye. The life force within him was rapidly flowing toward the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path behind him as though sucked away by a pump. He knew that once that technique was fully completed, the Death God would drag his soul down to the underworld.
"Zetsu... you damned... black mud..."
Obito gritted his teeth so hard that the dry skin on his lips split apart, dark red blood seeping out and filling his mouth with a sickly sweet taste.
"Even if I die... I won't let some gutter-born worm like you... get what you want!"
A lump of bloody phlegm rolled from his throat, carrying a pungent earthy stench. Beneath his mask, his voice was so hoarse that it seemed to leak air into the wind.
"Obito, you worthless trash, stay still!"
Black Zetsu let out a piercing shriek from the hollow of Obito's neck. Its two yellow eyes trembled wildly in panic.
"The Samsara of Heavenly Life Technique has reached its final stage! If you move around now, you'll only blow both of us to pieces!"
Its sticky black hand clamped down hard on Obito's collarbone, trying to use black rods formed from Yin-Yang Release to nail down the last of Obito's will.
But it was useless.
When people were about to die, they could always unleash a madness they never had before.
The Mangekyō Sharingan pattern deep within the pupil of Obito's right eye—the eye Black Zetsu had