For them, the mission had failed, costing them a precious Six Paths Tool of mysterious origin, an elite squad, and Toroi, a Kekkei Genkai Shinobi. They had already suffered a devastating loss.
Cutting their losses and preserving their remaining forces was what mattered most.
The battlefield fell silent in an instant, leaving only the mournful wind sweeping over scorched earth and the stench of blood.
Once Pakura confirmed that Kumogakure had fully withdrawn, she immediately flashed to Uchiha Makoto's side, standing guard while glancing toward where Tufeng had fallen nearby.
Tufeng lay motionless, a gaping hole in his chest and broken black tendrils scattered around him. All three hearts inside him had stopped beating. He was utterly lifeless.
With Pakura's support, Uchiha Makoto barely managed to sit up. He looked at Tufeng's corpse and sighed.
"What a waste..." he murmured.
Though Tufeng was only a modified puppet, he had been fairly handy and hard to kill, making him a decent meat shield and support unit.
This time, every last one of his hearts had been smashed apart while he held off those Kumogakure elites.
Still, Uchiha Makoto felt little sorrow.
Just as he had thought, Tufeng was merely a tool to him, a test subject, far from someone close to him.
He did not count toward the system's manifested condition of "the death of someone who is not close to you."
"A mirror," Uchiha Makoto told Pakura, his voice still a little hoarse.
Pakura took a small round mirror from the pouch she carried and handed it to him.
Uchiha Makoto accepted the mirror, drew a deep breath, and looked at his reflection.
The first thing he saw was his pale, haggard face, covered in blood and dust.
Then came his eyes.
They were no longer the familiar Four-Tomoe Sharingan.