Blood-red vapor erupted from every pore of Danzo's body as if it were tangible, outlining a twisted halo beneath the moonlight.
His skin cracked inch by inch, revealing the crimson muscle fibers beneath. Every vein bulged like red-hot iron wire.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, knelt beside the broken Adamantine Staff. His Hokage hat had long since vanished, and his disheveled hair whipped wildly in the gale.
"Hiruzen..." Danzo's voice no longer sounded human, like countless insects shrieking at once. "This is my final mercy to you, as your comrade."
The Third slowly raised his head. His clouded eyes reflected the comrade who had once fought at his side.
Danzo's fist grew larger and larger in his vision. Red vapor spiraled around its edge, compressing the air until it emitted a piercing shriek.
The Third suddenly remembered that rainy night fifty years ago. The young Danzo had held a kunai to his own throat and vowed to sweep away all darkness for Konoha. That gaze had been so much like it was now—just as resolute, just as mad.
"Danzo..." The Third's lips moved, but no sound came out.
The fractured end of the Adamantine Staff pressed into his palm, still carrying the last traces of Enma's chakra. It was warm, like a final embrace from an old friend. He suddenly recalled the first time he had met Danzo: a gloomy boy silently practicing hand seals in a corner of the Ninja Academy, his fingers always half a beat faster than the other children's.
The fist came crashing down with enough force to destroy everything. The Third could even see the beads of blood seeping from every crack across its surface.
Time slowed to an extreme in that instant. He saw Orochimaru's mouth open in terror in the distance, saw Jiraiya