Bloodline Inscription! The Bestowal of the Sharingan

The side hall of the main palace had been temporarily converted into a solemn, oppressive stone chamber.

The ukiyo-e paintings had been removed from the walls, leaving only stark, cold patterns. Several torches sat in iron brackets along the walls, their flickering flames casting the entire room into alternating light and darkness—shadows bared their fangs and claws in the corners.

Uchiha Madara stood at the center of the stone chamber.

Kentaro Uchiha sat kneeling on a cushion before him.

The boy's face was pale, and his body trembled involuntarily. Yesterday's terror had yet to fade, and now he was enveloped by this unknown ritual.

Ryuichiro Uchiha stood respectfully by the doorway with his hands lowered, his eyes downcast. He did not dare look directly ahead, but his tightly clenched fists exposed his nervousness—and a trace of... secret anticipation.

"The Uchiha bloodline requires corresponding power to bear it." Madara's emotionless voice echoed through the stone chamber.

"Foreign blood flows within you, but it is not entirely worthless. Today, I will grant you the true source of Uchiha power—the Sharingan."

Kentaro abruptly raised his head, disbelief flashing through his eyes before fear swallowed it whole. Grant him one? He recalled Madara's scarlet eyes, eyes that seemed capable of freezing one's soul. Was that truly something that could be "granted"?

Madara gave him no time to think.

He raised the index finger of his right hand—at its tip curled a condensed, ominous dark-red energy. It was highly concentrated Yin Release ocular power.

A gentle, life-filled milky-white radiance surfaced in his left palm. It was Yang-aspected magic power that had been forcibly converted.

"The process may cause a slight amount of discomfort," Madara added blandly, as though he were discussing something utterly trivial.

The next second—

He moved!

His right index finger, like the sharpest surgical scalpel, shot toward Kentaro's left eye with lightning speed! The dark-red ocular power entered the eyeball instantly like a living creature!

"Ahhh—!!!"

A shriek so miserable it barely sounded human burst from Kentaro's throat! That was no "slight discomfort"—

It was agonizing pain beyond description, pain that came from the deepest part of his soul!

It felt as though his entire eyeball had been gouged out, then violently pierced by a red-hot Brand, savagely tearing at every nerve ending!

His entire body convulsed violently. He wanted to struggle, but an invisible force pinned him firmly to the cushion!

Madara's left hand followed immediately, pressing near Kentaro's temple. Milky-white Yang Release magic power poured in—

Not to relieve his pain, but like the most precise support frame, forcibly stabilizing the eyeball structure on the verge of collapse and preventing it from dying outright under the brutal transformation of the Yin Release ocular power.

It was a dangerous, cruel balancing act—

Using the power of life to keep vitality hanging on while using the power of destruction to reshape it.

Kentaro's screams continued without pause. Tears and snot streamed down his face as his body thrashed like a fish out of water, yet he could not break free in the slightest.

The excruciating pain rose like a tide, nearly drowning Kentaro's consciousness entirely.

Humiliation, fear, helplessness... all manner of negative emotions multiplied wildly under the catalyst of pain.

Madara watched it all coldly. His voice was like ice as it pierced precisely into Kentaro's mind, which was flooded with agony.

"Trash will always be trash. Is this all the Magic Institute's top student amounts to? It seems I overestimated you."

Madara lowered his voice, yet it became even clearer, branding itself into Kentaro's soul like a curse. "Can't you even... hate me?"

Hate?!

The word was like a bolt of lightning, instantly piercing Kentaro's muddled consciousness!

Hate whom? Hate what?

The agony... the humiliation... being forcibly transformed... being treated as garbage... having the value of his existence denied...

Being stripped of every shred of dignity as a "person"...

Who?!

The face before him! The owner of those cold eyes—

Uchiha Madara!

Yes, he had to hate. This was the dignity of a Magic Institute top student who had been trampled underfoot. It was the purest, most violent, most despairing emotion born after he had been torn apart and toyed with, after the magic pathways in his body had been sealed—

Hatred for the one who had inflicted this violence! Hatred for his own fate as the weak!

Hatred for these eyes that had been forcibly bestowed upon him and brought endless pain! Bone-deep hatred, enough to burn the soul, for the very existence of "Uchiha Madara"!

"Urgh... Aaaah—!!!"

It was a roar torn from shredded vocal cords, filled with venom and curses!

Kentaro's body suddenly arched upward, and the restraints groaned under the unbearable strain!

His face twisted to the utmost extreme, like an evil ghost crawling out of hell!

At the same time—

His left eye, once dull and lifeless, suddenly erupted with an unprecedented scarlet radiance, eerie and blinding!

Just as his will was about to be completely swallowed by pure pain—

The One-Tomoe Sharingan in Madara's eye, which had been slowly rotating, abruptly froze!

His left hand pressed slightly harder against Kentaro's temple, while the dark-red ocular power at his right fingertip completed its final engraving!

"Transcription: One-Tomoe Inscription!"

A cold, evil force carrying a powerful mental Brand completed its "shaping" within the depths of Kentaro's left pupil, like the most precise engraving knife!

It was no longer vague energy, but a clear, cold pattern carrying the curse-like aura unique to the Uchiha Clan—

A black Magatama!

At the instant that pattern took form—

A completely different negative emotion from the depths of Kentaro's soul, one bearing boundless fear and an intensity powerful enough to distort reality—

Utmost terror, the despair of approaching death, and resentment toward his tormentor—erupted like an ignited powder keg!

This surging torrent of emotion instantly resonated violently with the trace of Sharingan source ocular power that had just been forcibly "transcribed" and sealed into his eyeball!

Bzzzt—!

Kentaro's ruptured, bloodshot left eye suddenly bloomed with newly born bloody light, carrying an aura of violence and pain!

At the center of that blood-red backdrop—

The black Magatama began to rotate slowly and steadily, like a living thing.

The One-Tomoe Sharingan!

At last, a truly meaningful curve of cold pleasure rose at the corner of Madara's mouth.

It had worked!

He slowly straightened, calmly watching the One-Tomoe Sharingan dance wildly in hatred. That radiance, that rotation speed, those pure negative emotions contained within it—this was the true "finished product" he had wanted to see.

Kentaro seemed to have been drained of all strength and collapsed onto the cold floor, soaked through with cold sweat. Only unconscious spasms and broken groans remained. Yet his newly born left eye continued turning amid the lingering aftershocks of pain, its scarlet glow appearing especially eerie beneath the torchlight.

"See? Wasn't it possible after all?" Madara's voice returned to its lofty calm, as if his vicious verbal provocation had never happened.

"Negative emotions are the key that opens this door."

"And hatred... is the path through which you will increase your power."

Madara turned toward Ryuichiro Uchiha, whose mouth had fallen slightly open in shock at the doorway.

He walked over to him, his scarlet Sharingan sweeping over the man.

"Even the lowest rank of Sharingan is a power beyond the reach of the mediocrities of this world."

Madara's voice carried absolute confidence. "From this day onward, he is a true Uchiha."

He paused, his gaze seeming to pierce through the walls toward London's night sky.

"You must raise the banner of Uchiha high and make all of London, even all of Britain, follow Uchiha's will."

His voice suddenly turned cold, like the frigid wind of winter.

"If you encounter resistance, if there is any disrespect..."

Madara's gaze fell back on Kentaro, sprawled on the ground, then swept over Ryūichirō as well.

"Use these eyes to make them... destroy themselves in eternal fear."

Ryūichirō looked at his son's left eye, still faintly bleeding yet radiating a cold, powerful aura. A surge of emotions mixed with fear, excitement, and fanaticism rose within him.

How was this punishment? This was clearly a divine blessing! It was the symbol of the Uchiha Clan's rise!

He lowered his head deeply, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

"By your command, Lord Madara! The Uchiha bloodline shall be honored by your will!"

Madara said nothing more and waved his hand. Ryūichirō immediately understood. He carefully stepped forward, helped up his nearly collapsed son, and withdrew from the stone chamber.

Only Madara remained in the stone chamber. The flickering firelight illuminated his cold profile and the pair of deeper Scarlet Magatama slowly rotating in his eyes.

The seeds of power had already been planted, accompanied by hatred and fear.

He looked forward to it—

What kind of brilliant, cruel flower would this seed one day bloom into upon this unfamiliar land?