Ocean Planet, above Navy Headquarters.
The acid rain had stopped, but the sky had not cleared.
Wind Release tore through the dark green clouds, revealing a deeper, ink-black darkness beyond.
The air was thick with a scorched smell and an indescribable, heart-pounding pressure-not the pressure of chakra, but of "rules."
Ōtsutsuki Fūshū stood in midair, his long silver-white hair drifting in the currents. Dust and blood stained his white robes-not his blood, but that of the Shadow Servants. A faint smile still lingered on his lips, but something else had entered his eyes. Not seriousness, but "impatience."
"To think I'd actually need the Rinnegan to fight a lower life-form."
His voice was calm, as though he were discussing the weather. It was not a complaint, but a statement. Like someone walking down a road who found his path blocked by ants and had to bend down to brush them aside. Not because the ants were strong, but because the road was too narrow. Nagato stood opposite him, his dark red hair tousled by the wind, his Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan slowly rotating in their sockets. Cracks covered his Susanoo armor, and several notches marred the edge of the Shadow Devouring Sword. His breathing was ragged, and more than half his chakra was gone. He had been fighting for a long time. He had used Shadow Servants, Monarch Domain, Perfect Susanoo, its armor form, and Space Slash. He had used everything he could and thrown every attack he had. Fengshou was still standing. His wounds had already healed, his chakra remained abundant, and his breathing was still steady. It was not that he "couldn't be killed," but that he "hadn't been hit anywhere vital."
Nagato looked into Ōtsutsuki Fūshū's eyes. Those eyes-pale purple Rinnegan without ripples-were not the kind the Sage of