Madara raised his hand, aiming his palm toward Imu as the patterns in his six-tomoe Rinne Sharingan slowly revolved.
His voice was quiet, yet it rang clear through the howling wind and the thunder of the distant battlefield.
"For eight hundred years, you've ruled this world, believing yourself a god."
Madara tilted his head slightly, watching Imu's shifting expression.
"But you have no idea that the true Divine Clan has never been anything like you-a fraud playing god with a Devil Fruit and demonic energy."
There was no mockery in his tone, not even arrogance.
He was simply stating a fact he had long known.
Imu fell silent.
His Demon Wings slowly spread, and his soul rings lit up again, though their glow was far dimmer than before.
Most of the twenty King's Blades had been shattered or hurled away by Super Shinra Tensei. The few that remained flew back to his side, but their formation was in disarray, no longer capable of mounting the seamless assault they had before.
He glanced down.
The Navy's lines had collapsed beneath the Night Owl Guard's crushing onslaught. Akainu's face was ashen from the torment of Kei's Seed of Plague, Aokiji was pinned in place by Yashiro's Year-Punishing Deity, Kizaru was fleeing Amaterasu in utter disarray, and Ryokugyu was struggling to hold out in the forest.
Garp was being driven back steadily by Fugaku and Setsuna's joint assault. Sengoku's Golden Giant Buddha was locked down by Yaoyu and Yakumi's Susanoo, while Tsuru's Wash-Wash Fruit could not break through the brothers' chakra defenses.
Navy and CP0 soldiers fell in droves, their blood pooling into streams that flowed into the churning sea.
Imu slowly withdrew his gaze and looked back at Madara Uchiha.
"I... still have one last move."
His voice was soft, as though