For the first time, an emotion called "confusion" appeared in the Hand Demon's eye.
The inescapable net it had laid was what it had relied on to dominate this mountain for nearly fifty years.
Not a single swordsman had ever survived the attacks of those hundreds of arms, which left no blind spots.
They were either torn to pieces in an instant or caught in despair, then slowly crushed.
But the brat before it was different.
He was like a slippery loach.
No, he was more like a black phantom.
Its arms had clearly sealed off every space he could dodge into.
Yet every time, he slipped through the gaps at an unbelievable angle, by a hair's breadth.
As though he could foresee the paths of its arms' attacks.
"Impossible!"
The Hand Demon was enraged, its attacks growing even more frenzied in speed and frequency.
More arms burst out of the ground, coiling toward Sasuke's ankles like twisted venomous snakes.
But in Sasuke's eyes, all of this was meaningless.
In his right eye, two black tomoe slowly rotated.
The entire world was deconstructed anew in his vision.
The Hand Demon's seemingly frenzied attacks were nothing more than clear, slow trajectories to him.
The extension and contraction of every arm, the twisting of every joint, even the way the muscles on them exerted force.
All were clearly captured by his scarlet eyes, analyzed, then anticipated.
He was like a god standing at the center of a storm, yet able to see the path of every raindrop.
Sasuke calmly analyzed as he dodged.
Attack pattern: monotonous.
Aside from sheer numbers and tricky angles, there was no technique to speak of.
The only trouble was its neck.
That fragile, sole weak point was wrapped in layers of dozens of the thickest arms, leaving no opening to strike.
"In that case..."
Sasuke's gaze grew even colder.
"I'll just cut off every last one of those claws."
He stopped merely dodging.
As he once again turned sideways to evade an arm attacking from behind, the pitch-black Wakizashi in his hand moved to meet it for the first time.
Whoosh!
A cold gleam flashed.
The arm, thicker than a grown man's thigh, was severed at the elbow.
Green blood gushed out.
The Hand Demon let out a shriek of pain.
But this was only the beginning.
Sasuke's figure was like a reaper dancing on a blade's edge.
Instead of retreating, he charged straight into that "forest" of arms.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Black blade flashes began flickering wildly.
Every flash meant one or several arms had been severed.
The Hand Demon discovered to its horror.
Its arms' regeneration could not keep up with the speed at which he severed them at all.
This brat was too fast!
So fast that its enormous single eye could not even track his figure.
It could only see black afterimages leaving swaths of mangled flesh within its attack range.
A grotesque rain of flesh and blood made up of severed arms fell over the clearing.
Those twisted arms landed on the ground, still twitching spasmodically, a horrifying and disgusting sight.
"Aaaaaah!"
The Hand Demon let out a terrified roar.
For the first time, it felt an emotion called "fear."
It wanted to retract its arms, to protect itself.
But it was already too late.
Sasuke grew faster and faster.
Every swing of the Wakizashi in his hand struck precisely at the arms' most vulnerable joints.
Not a single unnecessary movement, not a fraction of wasted strength.
Efficient, precise, cold.
Like a perfect killing machine following a preset program.
In just a dozen or so breaths.
More than half of the hundreds of arms the Hand Demon took such pride in had already been severed.
Its own mangled limbs lay piled around its enormous body, leaving it looking utterly wretched.
Sasuke finally came to a stop.
He stood atop the mountain of severed arms, his black Wakizashi angled toward the ground, blood slowly dripping down its blade.
Those scarlet two-tomoe Sharingan eyes pierced through layer upon layer of obstructions, coldly locking onto the Hand Demon's enormous single eye, filled with terror.
At that moment, the roles of hunter and prey were completely reversed.
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