The earth trembled, and a flood of serpents surged from the ground like a living tide.
On a small hill in the wilderness of the Land of Stone, a group of villagers huddled together. Women and children were protected in the center, while the men and elders formed a defensive ring around them.
They held hoes, axes—whatever tools they could find—but their faces were bloodless, pale with fear. None of them felt safe.
At the base of the hill, snakes and pythons of all sizes stretched out like an endless, writhing river, submerging the land in every direction. It was a sight that would break the spirit of any ordinary person. And yet, these villagers held on—not because they were brave, but because the snakes hadn't attacked.
Not yet.
Strangely, these serpents didn't behave like the deadly ones they knew. They were... herbivores.
Grass, shrubs, saplings—even wooden houses. The snakes devoured them all, like locusts stripping the land bare. Their mouths weren't filled with venomous fangs, but rows of thick, flat molars, chewing through everything in their path. The greenery was vanishing before their eyes.
"What the hell are these monsters…" someone muttered, their voice swallowed by the sound of thousands of chewing mouths.
Terror had paralyzed some, making it impossible to stand. Others trembled in place.
"Don't be afraid. They won't hurt you."
On the outermost edge of the group, a young, broad-shouldered man helped a nearby villager to his feet. His voice was calm, but his eyes never left the serpents below.
This was Jūgo.
He didn't understand what was happening. He had been warned of an earthquake—but not of this. Where had all these snakes come from? Was there a nest beneath their feet?
But Jūgo could sense something strange. Since childhood, he had been attuned to the energy of living creatures—able to hear the thoughts of beasts.
And what he sensed now wasn't hunger or aggression.
It was fear.
It was as though the snakes were fleeing from something even worse. Eating seemed to be a reflex, not a goal.
Despite the overwhelming numbers, they were deliberately avoiding the hill where the villagers stood.
Still, Jūgo remained tense. The danger hadn't passed.
Then a mocking voice echoed from below.
"Well, well... how strange. A human using our power?"
Jūgo spun toward the voice, but the ground at the base of the hill began to writhe. A massive, unnatural purple serpent emerged from the earth, casting a shadow that enveloped the villagers.
Screams broke out. Many collapsed where they stood, overwhelmed with fear.
Even Jūgo felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. This was no ordinary snake.
And yet… the voice had seemed human.
The serpent's eyes locked onto him.
"You? What are you, exactly?" the snake asked with amusement. "A weak little human wielding the power of us?"
"I don't know," Jūgo replied cautiously. "My name is Jūgo. I'm human. The ability... I just naturally knew how to use it."
He wasn't lying. And he hoped honesty would avoid conflict.
"A human, you say?" the giant snake—Manda—laughed coldly. "Then why don't these little ones see you as one of them?"
Jūgo looked back—and felt his heart sink.
The villagers were staring at him, not with gratitude, but with suspicion and fear.
They always had.
Jūgo had long been considered dangerous—barely tolerated, isolated. The villagers had only called on him now out of desperation.
And now that it was revealed he shared a connection with these terrifying serpents... all remaining trust shattered.
They backed away from him in revulsion.
Jūgo remained still, shielding the villagers behind him with his body, even as he saw their hatred.
"Master Manda," came a voice from Manda's scales. Several ghostly figures emerged, one of them stepping forward with a servile grin. "Allow me to handle this one."
Manda said nothing, his eyes narrowed in disinterest—but he didn't object.
The specter dropped down—Shisha, one of Orochimaru's many discarded pawns.
He'd once served the Snake Princess. Now, with her fall, he sought to curry favor with Manda instead.
His goal was simple: prove his worth. And if that meant turning Jūgo's body into his own new vessel—so be it.
Shisha and several of his followers descended like specters.
Jūgo roared, his body morphing hideously. His skin turned gray, hardening into leaden plates. Bone armor grew from his limbs like scythes.
The villagers gasped and backed away in horror.
"Just what kind of monster is he?!"
Even Shisha hesitated, unnerved by the overwhelming presence Jūgo now gave off. He wasn't supposed to be this dangerous. Not physically, at least.
But then Shisha had an idea. He directed his followers to ignore Jūgo—and target the villagers.
Before Jūgo could stop them, the specters slipped into the bodies of several bystanders.
Screams echoed.
The possessed villagers swelled grotesquely, their skin tinged red, veins bulging unnaturally. They turned on their own kin, hurling others aside with monstrous strength.
"Uncle!"
"Grandfather!"
Cries rang out—but they were met only with blows.
Jūgo tried to stop one of the possessed men—only to see dead, bloodshot eyes staring back at him.
"I caught you," the man sneered.
And suddenly, Jūgo was grabbed—his limbs and throat restrained by those he once protected.
"If you resist," the man hissed, "they die. We'll make sure you see them torn apart."
Jūgo froze. His mind screamed to fight, but he couldn't risk their lives.
"Good," the voice mocked. "You see? You're not one of them. They fear you. Hate you. I'm just giving you an excuse to return the favor."
Jūgo said nothing. But his armor retracted. His form shrank back to its human state.
He didn't trust them. But he couldn't take the risk.
That was all the opening Shisha needed.
A crimson glint flashed in his spirit-form's eyes. One of the villagers collapsed, and Shisha's ghost slipped out—only to dive straight into Jūgo's body.
Pain ripped through Jūgo's soul. His consciousness wavered as the spirit attacked from within.
"Resist," Shisha whispered, "and the villagers suffer."
Still, Jūgo resisted.
It was agonizing. His soul felt like it was burning—but Jūgo had spent his life wrestling with madness. With hunger. With violence.
He wasn't easy prey.
Shisha hadn't expected that. He tried to force dominance, but Jūgo's will refused to break.
Manda, watching the struggle, grew impatient.
"What a pathetic waste," the serpent hissed. "You disappoint me."
And without warning, he struck.
In one swift motion, Manda devoured Jūgo—swallowing both him and the invading spirit whole.
Then, eyes narrowed in distaste, Manda glanced at the cowering villagers.
He had no use for them. Ordinary humans were beneath him.
But the lesser snakes didn't share his restraint.
With Jūgo gone and no more deterrent present, countless cold, hungry eyes turned toward the villagers.
And just as the snakes began to slither forward—
—a deep, ancient serpent call echoed from the earth below.
All movement stopped.
Manda hissed in irritation. "The Great Sage's order…"
He narrowed his eyes, muttering to himself.
"That damn Orochimaru... he hasn't dealt with her yet?"
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