Baptized by a Rain of Blood! The Sharingan First Reveals Its Might

The next morning, all of London lay shrouded beneath a misty curtain of rain.

Ryuichiro Uchiha and his son, Kentaro Uchiha, walked along the cold, damp brick paths of Chinatown.

Rainwater mingled with blood, dripping slowly from their black kimono embroidered with the Flame Fan Crest.

But the blood was not theirs.

Like emissaries of death, the two entered the lairs of various factions.

To Kentaro, yesterday's suffering felt like it had happened in another lifetime.

His first mission was simple: eliminate a small group of dark wizards who had trespassed into Uchiha "planned territory."

To Uchiha Madara, they were nothing more than insignificant dust.

But for Kentaro, this was his first opportunity to use this "gift."

The targets were inside the crude shack ahead.

Four exhausted, malnourished dark wizards, their vigilance laughably low.

Kentaro did not even need to sneak in. He walked straight to the door.

Rain streamed down from the loose strands of hair over his forehead, revealing only his left eye, which glimmered with an eerie red light—

The cursed, yet "blessed," One-Tomoe Sharingan.

The door was violently kicked open.

The people inside turned toward him in surprise.

The lead wizard reacted first. Trembling, he drew the wand at his waist as obscure magic swirled around its tip.

"Who?!"

Kentaro did not answer.

He merely raised his head, and his crimson left eye locked onto the terrified eyes of the leader.

Illusion Technique: Hell Viewing Technique!

It was not a particularly sophisticated illusion, but against a mentally fragile and wholly unguarded target, it was enough.

"Ahhh—! No! No! Don't come any closer! Don't eat me!"

The world in the wizard's eyes collapsed in an instant. He saw a vision of his deepest fear made manifest—

A rotting maw, twisted dead souls, and icy tentacles dragging him into the Abyss!

He threw away his wand, clutched his head in both hands, and let out a shriek that barely sounded human as he frantically clawed at his face until blood streamed down it.

Fear.

Intense, pure fear steeped in despair rose from the near-breaking wizard in the form of pale-blue humanoid smoke, almost tangible.

At that very instant—

The wildly spinning tomoe in Kentaro's left eye suddenly shuddered!

A cold, greedy force of suction appeared from nowhere, like an invisible vortex!

Bzzzt—!

Kentaro shuddered from head to toe!

It was not pain, but an indescribable, shiver-inducing sense of comfort!

The emotion born from the enemy's extreme fear could actually convert and absorb the enemy's magic!

That magic flowed backward along his optic nerve, instantly flooding the body that had been drained dry by the use of this special eye.

The agonizing pain in his eye vanished!

The burning pain and foreign-body sensation that had gnawed constantly at his nerves like maggots burrowing into bone since the modification rapidly ebbed and settled like a receding tide.

In its place came a cold, brimming sense of power, as though the eyeball itself had been reborn.

The magic that had been continuously devoured and exhausted by the Sharingan due to the seal was recovering!

Within his body, nearly drained by long-term pain and suppression, a faint yet distinct warm current of strength began to form and flow.

His fatigue was swept away, and vitality seemed to return to his body.

A strange pleasure quietly emerged alongside the recovery of his strength and the disappearance of pain.

This pleasure did not come from revenge, but from control, from plunder! He had seized the other man's power and turned it into nourishment for himself!

Watching the enemy before him collapse and mutilate himself under his illusion, hearing those heart-rending screams gradually fade, and seeing him slowly disintegrate into black ash, the deep hatred Kentaro felt for Madara began to melt and warp like ice tossed into a furnace.

"Next."

His voice was dry, yet it carried an unprecedented delight that even he did not notice.

The other three wizards had long since been terrified out of their wits. One tried to flee through the back door, but Kentaro easily caught up with him.

Kentaro's One-Tomoe Sharingan locked onto him again!

This time, he saw more clearly. When the illusion took effect and the other man sank into boundless terror, that pure spiritual energy was madly drawn into his eyeball like delicious nectar!

The comfort in his body grew stronger, and his magic recovered even faster! He could even feel the black tomoe spinning faster and brighter within his vision, as though it were cheering with joy!

Slaughter! Torment! Absorption!

The mission targets quickly became four corpses with miserable deaths and faces twisted in extreme agony.

The shack was filled with the heavy stench of blood and despair.

Kentaro stood amid the bodies as rainwater dripped through the ruined roof, washing the blood from his hands.

He slowly raised a hand and covered his left eye.

There was no pain.

Only a cold, satiated satisfaction surged in the depths of his eyeball.

The magic within him was brimming, even stronger than before the modification.

Ryuichiro stood in the shadows on the second floor of the warehouse, his fingertips nearly digging into the wooden railing.

Below, the dark wizard who had been wanted by the Ministry of Magic for half a year was wildly brandishing his wand. A giant serpent made of Fiendfyre was nearly swallowing the entire space. Ryuichiro instinctively wanted to intervene—until he saw Kentaro merely raise his head in silence.

The crimson One-Tomoe Sharingan turned gently in the firelight.

The next second, the once-arrogant dark wizard suddenly froze.

The cruel grin on his face stiffened, then turned into utter terror. His wand clattered to the ground, and he began howling madly at the air and clawing at his own face. Moments later, foam spilled from his mouth as he collapsed to the floor. Even as the out-of-control Fiendfyre burned over him, he did not react.

The concern and tension on Ryuichiro's face instantly froze, then shattered bit by bit like ice.

His mouth hung slightly open as his gaze swept back and forth between his son's cold profile and the dark wizards on the ground. An unprecedented tremor raced from his spine to the top of his head.

He had originally thought this "Sharingan" was merely a powerful magical organ, a tool that required a price to obtain.

But now he understood—this was not a tool at all.

This was... authority!

A power of law that stood above magic and spells, directly manipulating souls and reality!

He slowly lowered his head and looked at the hands he had spent years using to practice magic, hands he had once been so proud of. For the first time, he felt how pale and powerless they were. A feeling mixed with extreme awe, fervor, and a trace of fear at being crushed beneath the tide of the times grew wildly within him.

"...A miracle."

He finally forced the words from his throat, his voice so soft it was nearly inaudible.

When he looked up again, all hesitation in his eyes had burned away, leaving only resolve.

Kentaro looked at the bodies on the ground, at their faces twisted by fear.

Hatred... the hatred for Madara that had once sustained him and set his soul ablaze now seemed somewhat... distant and blurred.

A cold, twisted thought curled around his consciousness like a poisonous vine:

My suffering... that heart-rending pain... what was it caused by?

Was it because Lord Madara forcibly gave me power?

No... that's not right...

It was because I... was too weak!

Because my capacity... was simply unworthy of this power!

Just like this trash, they do not even have the capacity to endure a single glance from me! Their fear is only fit to become my nourishment!

The thought was like a curse, instantly crushing the last remnants of resentment in his heart.

The object of his hatred shifted from Madara, who had inflicted the pain, to his own incompetence!

He no longer hated the pain Madara had given him. Instead, he began to hate himself for being unable to endure that pain, hate himself for being unable to adapt to this power more quickly!

This immense power... had been bestowed upon him by Lord Madara!

Without Lord Madara, he would still be that useless fool who had taken pride in entering the Magic Institute!

Lord Madara had given him new life, had given him a status above others! He had allowed him to draw power from the suffering of others!

A fervent and twisted worship ignited in his cold heart like wildfire.

"Ha ha ha ha ha, hee hee hee hee hee..."

He clutched his head and laughed wildly, then suddenly turned and dropped to one knee toward the family compound.

He let the icy rain wash over his body, the crimson One-Tomoe Sharingan gleaming with fanatical devotion through the rain.

"Lord Madara..." he murmured, his voice trembling with excitement yet filled with unprecedented resolve and fervor.

"Thank you for your gift... these eyes... this power..."

"I will prove my capacity! I will clear away every obstacle for you! I will... devour more fear and become stronger!"

At that moment, he was no longer a victim forced to endure power.

He had become a slave to power, a predator of fear.

Every time he used the Sharingan to torment an enemy, every time he absorbed that delicious fear, deepened his dependence on power, twisted his perception, and bound him more deeply to Madara's will.

The hatred in his heart had been completely twisted into pain over his own incompetence and fanatical worship of the one who had bestowed power upon him.

That One-Tomoe Sharingan was no longer merely a symbol of power.

It was also the Brand of his soul's fall into darkness and complete submission.

He rose to his feet, turned toward Ryuichiro, and said fervently:

"Come, Father. Let us continue carrying out Lord Madara's will!"

"London will surely become Uchiha territory!"

Ryuichiro nodded, his eyes especially bright in the darkness.

He had to contact all the scattered Yagyu Collateral Branches immediately.

The Uchiha bloodline had to continue on this land in the most glorious, and most thorough, way possible...

At any cost.