Power always has a price.
Orochimaru had understood that truth from a very young age.
And over the years, as he communicated more deeply with the lamp god, that understanding only grew.
Every sip of water, every grain of food—it all had a cost. Nothing in the world came without balance. A cause leads to its effect, a seed to its fruit.
In his quest to escape death, Orochimaru had once split his soul into fragments, embedding them into his most powerful subordinates via curse marks. It bought him time—gave him a way to cheat death—but the cost was devastating. His soul was marred, his potential for growth nearly destroyed.
Much of his effort over the past years had been spent resolving the consequences of that decision.
Learning from past mistakes, Orochimaru had become careful, calculated. He would not make the same error twice.
In the present world, there were only two places left where he could absorb natural energy without a direct fight: Ryūchi Cave and the Shikkotsu Forest. Yet the Immortals of both places—the White Snake and the Slug—were not exactly friendly, nor were they willing to support Orochimaru's evolution.
Worse still, the energy there was already processed—altered. Absorbing that kind of filtered natural energy might have unpredictable consequences. Dangerous ones.
So instead of accepting a half-safe offer, Orochimaru chose the harder path. He would take nature's power by force.
---
The yellow sandstorm roared, pelting the underground shelters with gravel and wind. The protective white barrier shimmered under the pressure, but despite the constant bombardment, it held firm.
Judging from the ripples on its surface, it could endure for another full day.
"Huh... this shell is tougher than I expected," the lamp god commented, withdrawing his gaze from the barrier. He turned to Orochimaru with a slight grin. "The dragon vein's power is stronger than I thought. Your storm alone won't break through."
He knew well that while Orochimaru's body was enhanced, controlling a disaster of this magnitude was draining him fast.
Orochimaru licked the sweat from his lips, smirking. "The stronger the dragon vein, the more valuable it becomes. Maybe its energy surpasses mine—but the Queen of Roran, who wields it, does not. No one understands better than me—human strength has limits."
If mortals could resist time and nature so easily, why had he struggled for decades?
Just as Orochimaru predicted, the barrier's light was slowly dimming.
It wasn't that Queen Roran and her daughter had exhausted their strength. They were conserving energy, trying to strike a balance. She knew full well: if she used everything now, there'd be nothing left for what came next.
"A cautious one," the lamp god observed. "Experienced, too."
He glanced at Orochimaru and asked with mock concern, "Are you really planning to drag this out until you bury everyone with her?"
"Oh, not at all," Orochimaru replied smoothly, smiling like an innocent bystander. "Besides, if the people of Roran die, so does their Queen. And I need her to cooperate. What good is a throne with no subjects?"
He didn't care for their lives—this entire display was just to break their spirit.
When a city is protected by divine power, the only way to truly conquer it is to defeat that power head-on. Shatter the people's faith, and the rest will crumble on its own. Orochimaru knew this well.
And he didn't need to kill them. All he had to do was scare them—show them their "patron saint" couldn't save them anymore.
Once they left Roran and stepped outside that protection, whether it was Suna or Konoha, there would be no shortage of ways to deal with a helpless crowd.
By starting with overwhelming force, he could avoid the need for bloodshed later.
Trusting in his name alone—"Konoha's Sannin"—would be laughable.
Orochimaru couldn't kill Queen. He needed her strength. Threatening her daughter or her people might work—but it would only breed hatred, and betrayal might follow.
He couldn't afford that.
"No… it's better to leave them a way out, to make their exile feel like their own choice."
"That's clever," the lamp god said with a thoughtful nod. "Still, there's a flaw in your method."
He tilted his head. "Natural disasters follow natural rules. Sure, these people can't tell the difference between your storm and a real one—but Queen might. She seems to have direct access to information others don't."
Orochimaru was not a native of the Land of Wind. He had studied sandstorms in Suna, observed a few firsthand, but he still lacked the instincts that came from generations of surviving the desert.
He could fool most people—but maybe not her.
"It doesn't matter," Orochimaru said coolly. "This was never meant to be a secret. I want her to understand."
People's opinions may differ, but leaders—real leaders—must act for the collective good. Now that she knew of the dragon vein's potential and had witnessed Orochimaru's might, her choice was already made. She would yield.
But the common folk were another matter entirely.
When too many voices rise, even the right decision becomes complicated.
That's why this storm had to appear natural.
Let the Queen and her people choose to leave.
Later, when Orochimaru came offering shelter, they'd see him as a savior—not the one who caused the disaster. With this, both he and Queen could act freely.
"This is far more tedious than your old methods," the lamp god teased. "Didn't you used to crush everything with force?"
Orochimaru smiled. "That was then. Now, I prefer longer-lasting solutions."
The genie chuckled. Orochimaru had changed. He was no longer the impatient seeker of power who treated people like tools.
But that didn't mean he'd grown soft.
Sooner or later, these people would be squeezed dry.
"I have a few suggestions," the lamp god added after some thought.
"Oh?" Orochimaru raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"No need to stretch this out. You could retreat now and approach the Queen directly. Talk before the storm passes completely. No casualties yet—it's a good window."
Orochimaru shook his head. "Her attitude isn't the issue."
He looked out toward the shelters.
"These people won't leave until they have to. If they don't suffer at least a little, they'll cling to their hope."
He'd seen it in Suna. The desert made people hard. Even without strength or resources, they were stubborn. Just like the Roran people.
You couldn't just scare them. You had to break their resolve.
"Still," the lamp god said, "Roran is different. It's an oasis. A paradise, almost. Their lives have been stable and protected. They might not be as tough as you think."
Orochimaru fell silent, considering.
"Don't overestimate their courage," the genie continued. "And don't underestimate their fear of losing food and water. A day or two in a sealed shelter is fine. But if they believe this storm will return again and again? Their hope will die."
"…Alright," Orochimaru finally said. "We'll try it your way first."
There would always be more opportunities. Another storm. Another approach.
---
Inside the altar chamber, Queen and Sara knelt side by side, pale and drenched in sweat.
But despite their exhaustion, their expressions were bright.
Through the dragon vein, they could feel it—the storm was moving away.
The danger had passed.
Still, they didn't lower their guard. This was the most fragile moment. One misstep now, and everything could be lost.
Time passed slowly.
When they were finally sure the storm had left Roran's borders, both mother and daughter let out a long breath.
"Sara," the Queen said gently, brushing her daughter's hair, "it's your first time connecting with the dragon vein. You've done well. You can rest now."
"…Okay."
Sara didn't resist. The moment her connection to the dragon vein was severed, exhaustion hit her like a wave. Her body slumped to the ground, panting.
Queen smiled fondly but quickly turned her attention back to monitoring the area.
Once she confirmed the danger had passed, she exited her prayer state and exhaled deeply.
Sara was already on her feet, dabbing sweat from her mother's forehead with a handkerchief, admiration in her eyes.
"Mother, you're amazing."
"You'll be even better than me one day," Queen said, brushing her daughter's cheek with affection.
But Sara only shook her head.
A boy might have been thrilled to survive such a moment—eager for adventure. But not her.
The memory of the storm still chilled her.
What if it had lasted longer? What if we hadn't been strong enough?
She couldn't shake the fear.
"Mother," she said quietly, "why do we stay in Roran? Even with the dragon vein, it's dangerous here. What if…"
Her voice trailed off. It felt wrong to question things after just surviving a disaster.
But the Queen smiled kindly.
"I'm glad you're thinking about that," she said. "But remember—natural disasters are frightening… but they pass."
"People's hearts, though—they're far more dangerous."
Sara didn't fully understand, but she nodded.
"Enough heavy talk," the Queen said, rising to her feet. "Go tell the people the storm has passed."
"Alright!" Sara nodded quickly and ran out of the chamber.
As she disappeared down the corridor, Queen Loulan's smile slowly faded.
Her face turned grim.
_____________________
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