Ocean Planet, Navy Headquarters, the top-floor conference room. Sunlight streamed through the glass dome, casting dappled light and shadows across the long conference table.
Outside the windows, the sea lay as smooth as a mirror, showing no sign that a battle between gods had taken place here just hours earlier. But the cracks in the walls, the rubble on the floor, and the lingering smell of scorching reminded everyone-a god had died here.
Nagato sat on the left side of the conference table, his dark red hair gleaming purplish-black in the sunlight. His Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan had faded, returning to an ordinary violet. His face was expressionless, but something indescribable lingered in his eyes-not exhaustion, but the calm of someone who had "seen a god." Before him sat a transparent container in which Ōtsutsuki Fūshū's Rinnegan was submerged. Pale purple, without ripples, glowing faintly. Yahiko sat beside him, his short orange hair somewhat disheveled. His dark blue navy uniform was still stained with dust and blood; he had not changed. Not because he had lacked the time, but because he had not wanted to. That dust and blood were proof that he was "still alive."
Konan sat beside Yahiko, her cool face expressionless as she folded a paper crane, its wings trembling slightly between her fingertips. She had been folding it for a long time without stopping. Her paper cranes had never been toys. They were weapons, eyes, and ears. Every person in the conference room, every movement, every expression, was within her paper crane's "sight."
Yutian sat opposite Nagato, his deep purple Governor's Robe immaculate, Ksitigarbha King's dark gold token hanging at his waist. His face was composed, his gaze deep. He had rushed over from the British Continent-through Void Gate, in an instant. He did not know what