Fugaku glared at Radahn—
Fugaku's eyes began to bleed. Scarlet rivulets streaked his cheeks as an intricate, swirling pattern blossomed in his irises—crimson lines converging into a stylised lotus flower.
Gasps echoed through the crowd; even the most battle-hardened jōnin faltered.
The Mangekyo Sharingan…!
Whispers crackled among the shinobi; some stepped further back in instinctive awe. The clan heads—Hiashi's cousin, Choza, even usually serene Shibi Aburame—stared, openly shaken.
Hiruzen's pipe slipped from his hand.
Even in a century of legend, only Madara Uchiha had openly wielded the Mangekyo, the ultimate evolution of ocular power. For Fugaku to unveil it now—when and how had he obtained such pain, such clarity, in his own heart?
Before any could question, he leapt back, chakra flaring. He shouted—
"Kamaitachi no Jutsu! " [Wind Scythe Tornado!]
A roaring pillar of slicing wind erupted, laced with blades so sharp and dense they scoured stone to powder, a spiralling tornado surging down upon Radahn.
But Fugaku wasn't finished. His eyes burned again as he growled,
"AMATERASU!"
Jet-black flames—cold and endless—ignited in the heart of the tornado. The sight stunned every onlooker: the elemental pillar turned instantly from white to bottomless black, a vortex of destruction so absolute it seemed to consume colour, hope, and light itself.
To the assembled villagers, it looked as if nothing could survive such power—Radahn's figure vanished amidst roaring wind and hungry, shadowy fire.
But Fugaku gave no pause. An enormous, golden aura enveloped him:
"SUSANOO!"
A colossal humanoid form burst into being, forged from golden chakra, two grim scythes gripped in its spectral hands.
With a furious roar, Fugaku brought both scythes down, splitting the dark tornado at its heart. The force smashed into the ground, sending a shockwave through the street—shattering the nearest shinobi house, sending roof tiles and timber skyward on a wave of heat.
An explosion followed—a rolling boom and a blinding surge of black fire spilling through ruptured earth, licking at the burning debris.
The Mangekyo's power didn't abate.
Fugaku threw his head back, shouting a final, never-before-seen name:
"KURAI RAIJIN!"
His second Mangekyo technique: a beam of black, crackling lightning, shaped like a spear, tore from his bleeding eye and pierced the sky.
At its apex, the clouds coiled and howled; a monstrous three-headed dragon—black shot with purple, scales like obsidian—coalesced from the storm and let out an earth-shaking roar.
The dragon dove with impossible speed. Where it passed, even the clouds turned to smoke and cinders; street signs bent and stone cracked from the vibration of its approach. Civilians in their homes shrieked and scattered; the world itself seemed to shudder.
Hiruzen, reeling, snapped back into command:
"Everyone evacuate! Now!"
Clones erupted beside him.
He nodded to Minato, Tsume, Shikaku, Choza, Hiashi's cousin, and the Aburame head:
"Barrier teams—circle formation! Use Four Violet Flames Formation and Earth Release: Protective Mud Wall"
Within seconds, a massive dome of burning violet chakra, streaked with streaks of mud, psychic force, and ghostly shadows, formed a double-layered barrier around Radahn's location, cutting off the devastation from the rest of the village.
The dragon landed at the epicenter.
A shockwave split the flagstone road open; fiery cinders and black lightning shot into the sky.
For a moment, silence—a heavy, suffocating hush.
Fugaku, panting atop the golden Susanoo, stared into the deafening dust.
Burned homes smouldered; several shinobi stared at him with awe and, beneath it, fear. Hiashi's cousin, blood trickling from the nose, looked between Hiruzen and Minato—stricken speechless.
Choza muttered in disbelief,
"Mangekyo… I thought only Madara—"
Shikaku said nothing—he just held his breath, mind spinning through the new terror now standing in Konoha's midst.
Hiruzen stepped out-
"Fugaku, y-you…"
Fugaku slumped for a heartbeat, the exertion catching up with him, but his pride was cold and clear.
"Sorry, Hokage-sama, for keeping my Mangekyo Sharingan a secret." He straightened atop his titanic Susanoo, trying for steadiness.
"But as you can see, there was never any need until—"
Before he could finish , He saw the shocked Expression on Hokage's face and the others , His words got caught up in his throat as he thought of the worst.
Fugaku slowly turned , his eyes trembling as he saw the giant emerging from the smoke. His Amaterasu flames were still faintly visible on him but they had no effect, he didn't suffered any damage , more like no scar whatsoever.
Wind howled.
Fugaku's Susanoo—already towering—suddenly doubled, tripled, expanded as if answering the call of forgotten gods. Armor took final shape, a golden behemoth materializing out of shuddering ether: feet planted like mountains, four massive arms gleaming, each hand brandishing grim, curved scythes. The Susanoo's eyes burned with wrath, hair wild and free, cascading behind its helmed brow. Its armor was engraved with ancient spirals and the stylized faces of countless Uchiha forebears, each detail seeming to flicker with chakra fire.
Fugaku could barely withstand the pressure in his mind—his entire world felt like molten glass, his skull alight with Mangekyo's toll.
'Impossible!'
His hands flexed. The Susanoo raised all four scythes in a challenge that shamed the fury of earthquakes.
But before Fugaku could give a command, the earth answered for him.
A sharp, violent tremor ripped through the arena. The ground cracked, stone flagging buckled and split as if struck from far below by a giant's fist. Even the barrier of chakra and earth—raised by Konoha's finest—wobbled with the force, pulsing violet and blue as it strained to keep the devastation in check.
The tremor became a quake. Shinobi, already off-balance from terror, fell to one knee or clung to comrades. Fine dust billowed, reducing the world to a haze.
Then the ground at Susanoo's feet burst open as if sundered by a forgotten god. A fissure shot up—straight under the golden titan's armored legs.
From that cosmic wound, Radahn erupted.
He tore through stone and dust as if neither existed. It was not a jutsu or a technique.
It was movement so raw, so primordial, it felt like the world's own vengeance: a comet trailing golden flame, radiating a force that made every onlooker's heart miss a beat.
Radahn shot upward—not around Susanoo, but directly through it.
The Susanoo, the Uchiha's pride and ultimate shield, met an attack no legend had ever described.
At first, it resisted; four arms crossed, scythes braced, an unbreakable wall of chakra centuries in the making.
Then, the Susanoo screamed—its eyes flickered, armor bent in a dozen places as Radahn's presence pressed forward, unstoppable.
In a single, thunderous act, Radahn punched—no, tore—his way through the very core of the Susanoo. The immense construct split from groin to crown—the "unbreakable" shattered like stained glass, fragments of blue, gold, and red rushing outward with hurricane force. The scythes spun skyward, ripped from spectral hands, and the air sang with the sound of history breaking.
In one mighty hand, Radahn seized Fugaku by the face, fingers closing over the Uchiha leader's head like a monstrous vise. The contact lasted only an instant—enough to transmit power like none Fugaku had ever known. His sight exploded in white, vertigo snaring him as Radahn yanked him bodily from the broken Susanoo's core.
The titanic construct flailed once as its master was wrenched away, then collapsed—armor and arms and burning eyes snuffing out instantaneously. The entire Susanoo burst apart: what remained of its enormous shape split horizontally, glasslike chunks spiraling before dissolving into the ether, not even dust left behind.
The screaming hush was replaced by the terrified shouts of Konoha's finest, the sharp commands of clan heads trying desperately to regain order. But Radahn hardly heard them.
With a lazy, almost contemptuous turn, he hurled Fugaku at the ground like a broken doll.
Fugaku's body was weightless, powerless now. He cut a ragged arc over the cracked plaza, blood and dust trailing after him.
Hiruzen, launched himself from the scorched earth, arms extended, staff spinning away. His body caught Fugaku—
But Fugaku's mass—combined with Radahn's throw—was too much. Hiruzen skid through the debris, foot catching on the ruptured stone, knees folding. The two collided with the inner barrier, a low-dome of earth and chakra that shuddered at the collision—a sound like a temple bell run through with despair.
The breath left both leaders almost instantly.
Hiruzen fell, coughing up blood. Fugaku slumped in his arms, barely conscious, vision filling with swirling darkness. The only thing more painful than his battered body was the echo of defeat, the shattering shame in his soul.
All around, time seemed to slow.
For a heartbeat, nobody dared move.
The Susanoo fragments, still drifting, finally dissipated. The world was painted in the gold and crimson afterimage of lost hope.
Radahn hung in the sky.
He hovered just above the wreckage—halfway between earth and heaven—a silent, glowing colossus whose shadow fell across half the ruined plaza. The air shimmered with rippling heat, as if the world itself acknowledged his presence and altered for it.
From above, his cape flowed gently, each movement sending eddies through the dust.
He scanned the battered shinobi below—Hiruzen and Fugaku slumped against the barrier, clan leaders wearing expressions of awe, terror, and ruined pride. His gaze swept over Minato, Kakashi, the trembling young Inuzuka and sweating Yamanaka, over the bloodied remnants of the Nara, Akimichi, Remaining Senju, and Aburame elites.
No one spoke.
The survivors watched as if waiting for a pronouncement.
Radahn's voice, utterly calm and pitiless, resonated over the plaza—gentle, but with a weight more dreadful than any shout:
"Perhaps I've been too lenient with you."
His words fell like stones into a still pond.
He looked down, crimson glare lingering a moment on Fugaku—at the proud Uchiha who had been reduced, in minutes, from legend to object lesson.
The declaration was not a threat.
It was a decree.
"Mark my words," Radahn continued, voice rising just enough for every soul—from the lowliest genin to the highest elder—to hear,
"Any further confrontation will mark your end."