Orochimaru's expression darkened.
"Why? With your constitution, the cursed seal wouldn't harm you at all—it would only make you stronger."
Ishiki Kujo shook his head.
"One of my favorite things in life is looking at self-important people like you and saying… No."
And besides, I know exactly what a cursed seal truly means—far more than you think.
Orochimaru froze for a second. Then he let out a slow, eerie laugh.
"Hahaha… that really is your style, Ishiki. But like I said—you don't get to choose."
As he finished speaking, the ground beneath Ishiki exploded into a nest of vipers, venomous snakes snapping up at the floating shinobi.
But before they could reach him, they were instantly suspended—caught in midair by patches of white cloud.
Thunder crackled.
One by one, the snakes crisped to ash.
Yet Ishiki's attention had already shifted—he wasn't looking at the snakes, but at Orochimaru, who was standing atop the now-gargantuan, snailified snake summon.
His right eye—Saint's Right Eye, scanning in real-time.
His left—Sharingan, the three-tomoe spinning.
Time slowed through the Sharingan, while the Saint's Eye scanned deeper—and there it was: Orochimaru's chakra, real but subtly distorted.
An afterimage. A decoy. A shadow clone.
Even as the realization hit, Ishiki's hands formed seals for a Great Fireball.
His gaze shifted—down at the forest floor, something darting fast like a burrowing eel.
His mouth opened wide, a fiery sphere swirling with chakra blasting out.
Wind roared. The flame ballooned—oxygen and air currents surging together.
But before it could hit, a Rashōmon gate slammed down from the heavens, crushing the fireball under titanic weight.
At the same time, a Kusanagi sword shimmered into existence beside Ishiki, lunging for his chest.
Orochimaru's ambush was swift and deadly, but through the Sharingan, it played like a slow-motion reel.
Ishiki tilted his body, avoiding the strike with minimal effort.
His hand flashed up—chakra scalpel forming—and swiped at Orochimaru's left ribs.
But Orochimaru's body bent like boneless rubber, contorting to evade. His sword-wielding arm burst into a dozen snakes, all snapping toward Ishiki.
Hidden Shadow Snake Hands.
But just like before, the clouds spiraling around Ishiki captured every last serpent—suspended mid-lunge, sizzling under the storm-charged mist.
Then—a stand emerged, coalescing from cloud.
It moved like a flowing current, slammed its fist into Orochimaru with such force the mere wind shear split his cheek open—and then flames detonated where the punch grazed.
Orochimaru's form went limp as Ishiki's chakra scalpel swept horizontally—
—but in that same instant, a giant serpent surged up from below, swallowing Orochimaru and the flames in one massive bite.
Then—three Orochimaru shadow clones surrounded Ishiki from different directions, hands locked in identical seals.
He had used Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu the moment he engaged.
The snake that devoured Orochimaru began slithering again. Dozens of snails burst from its skin, yet within its jaws, another soaking-wet Orochimaru emerged.
The real one.
He and the three clones formed a diamond—hands forming seals in perfect sync.
Suddenly, four purple energy barriers erupted between them, forming a sealing jutsu meant to trap Ishiki in the center.
But Ishiki didn't move.
He just hovered there, floating among the clouds, watching.
That pause—that arrogance—made Orochimaru hesitate.
And then… Orochimaru saw the eyes.
Three-tomoe Sharingan.
Genjutsu.
Orochimaru instantly realized—but too late.
It wasn't during the gaze.
It was when the stand's punch sliced his face. That's when the illusion was triggered.
And it was a Sharingan illusion.
But Ishiki didn't have Uchiha blood—how did he have that eye?!
A thousand thoughts surged through Orochimaru's mind, but he knew: to dispel a genjutsu cast via dōjutsu, he'd need an outside source to disrupt his chakra.
Too late.
Ishiki's eyes, both spinning, held nothing back.
The Saint's Right Eye had elite perception, but limited offense.
The Sharingan filled that gap perfectly.
He'd waited, baited, and struck with ruthless precision.
Orochimaru had shown poor resistance to Itachi's illusions in the past, but Ishiki knew—based on databooks—Orochimaru actually had a 10/10 in genjutsu.
Itachi only beat him through overwhelming power.
So Ishiki couldn't afford to hold back.
He had to end this now.
No bonds. No apprenticeship.
A dead Orochimaru was the best Orochimaru.
Golden markings bloomed across Ishiki's body. Sage chakra surged.
In his palm, a giant mass of energy spun into existence—
Sage Art: Ultra Great Flame Rasengan!
Larger than any standard Rasengan. Even greater than the Giant Rasengan.
A swirling inferno, bright red—like a miniature sun.
It screamed downward—directly at Orochimaru's face.
BOOM.
The entire mountainside shook. A crater 30 meters wide blasted into existence.
But as the dust settled, only a shattered snake corpse remained—massive, lifeless.
No sign of Orochimaru.
Ishiki's Sharingan swirled—searching. His Saint Eye scanned.
And then—his clouds rippled.
A serpentine form slithered through the mist, wrapping around him like a python.
A mouth opened wide—a long blade shot from it, piercing Weather Report's compressed air shield.
But before it could reach Ishiki—
A fist struck the blade, sending it flying.
Yet from the collapsing snake's head, another body emerged.
A new Orochimaru, jaw wide, two fangs gleaming—aimed straight at Ishiki's neck.
Then he saw it—the golden sage marks etched across Ishiki's skin.
Orochimaru froze.
Mouth open, eyes wide.
His fangs never landed.