Main World.
Konoha Year Twenty-Two, winter.
Planet No. 1, the Mechanical God Cult's base.
This was Planet No. 1's first winter. The sky was gray, the clouds hung low, and fine grains of snow drifted down from them, gathering in a thin white layer on the base's stone walls. The base was much larger than it had been a few months earlier. Its perimeter walls had expanded outward twice, its dozen or so houses had grown to several dozen, and its three watchtowers had become seven. The fields had already been harvested, and the granaries were packed with enough food to feed everyone in the base for an entire winter.
Nagato stood on the top floor of the main tower, his dark red hair stirring in the cold wind. His eternal Mangekyō Sharingan was active, the spiral in his left eye and the Triangular Blade Pattern in his right slowly rotating within his scarlet pupils. His gaze rested on the snowfield outside the base-several black dots were moving there, tribespeople who had gone out hunting. They moved much faster than they had a few months earlier, and their bodies were much sturdier too.
Sasori stood before the Control Console, holding a test tube filled with pale golden liquid—the basic form of the Gene Serum. Rows of Growth Chambers stood behind him, with various biological tissue samples soaking inside. His glasses reflected the light, and his Golden Serpent Eyes flickered faintly behind the lenses.
Kushina stood beside him, holding Jilan. Jilan was already over two years old, his scarlet Sharingan wide open as he watched the Growth Chambers curiously. Liuli stood on the other side, holding a cup of hot tea, a trace of weariness on his face-not physical weariness, but weariness of the heart. Yutian stood at the doorway, some