Tonight, the skies over Konoha were darker than usual, as if soaked in ink.
In the suffocating blackness of the Forest of Death, just outside a stone cavern embedded into a fractured hillside, shadows of serpents slithered silently through the underbrush.
Hiss... hissss...
As though sensing something, the heads of the serpents rose slightly, blood-red tongues flicking into the air.
In the distance, upon the branches, several black-clad figures wearing masks emerged noiselessly, like silent owls descending upon prey. The snakes, however, did not react.
"Is it here?"
The leader, Sarutobi Hiruzen, clad in light armor, wore a grim expression. He stood upon a tree branch, staring at the bottomless cave with a heavy, complicated murmur.
"Scatter," Sarutobi ordered in a low voice.
Shff! Shff!
The shadows behind him instantly dispersed, unfurling like massive black wings, swiftly covering the entire perimeter with sharp talons and predatory eyes.
They were the ANBU, the elite assassination squad known for their ruthless efficiency and cold precision.
Recently, a disturbing number of Genin, Chunin, and even ANBU operatives had gone missing without a trace. These were not common shinobi—every ANBU was at least a skilled Chunin, a pillar of Konoha's strength.
Even with Shimura Danzo covering things up in the shadows, the trail couldn't be completely erased.
What puzzled and enraged even Danzo was that a Hyuga clan elder from the Main Family had been found dead, and the Director of Konoha Hospital had mysteriously vanished right under their noses.
Had Orochimaru completely lost his mind?
The matter had finally drawn the attention of Sarutobi Hiruzen, who had been preoccupied with border skirmishes in the Land of Fire. At once, he recalled whispers from weeks ago of Orochimaru acting unusually.
"Orochimaru..."
After a long silence, Sarutobi and two ANBU vanished from the treetops, leaving behind only a sigh tinged with disappointment and regret.
—
Meanwhile, deep beneath the cave, in the damp, labyrinthine maze of Konoha's drainage system—
Drip... drip...
Only the sound of wastewater echoed through the stagnant pools.
Yet in one hollowed-out chamber, the space had long been transformed into a secret laboratory.
"No matter how many times I look at it, I'm still in awe of how perfect and miraculous this body is."
Orochimaru stood over a surgical table, gazing at a lifeless, flawless corpse. Desire and greed brimmed in his amber eyes.
He had traveled across the shinobi world and seen many well-preserved ancient cadavers. Most were twisted—bulging skulls, grotesquely swollen limbs that burst through clothing.
But this body was different. Otherworldly beautiful. Pale skin like porcelain, hair soft as silk, eyelashes intact, eyes gently closed as if merely dreaming.
Though the limbs were withered and the torso showed signs of dehydration, Orochimaru was certain: this boy was dead.
Yet somehow, the body still radiated a lingering vitality.
It felt as if the "soul" had left, but the shell remained.
"So this is the Ōtsutsuki clan…" Orochimaru's breath quickened. He licked his parched lips with his tongue.
According to ancient records from the Hyuga clan, the Ōtsutsuki were the progenitors of chakra and ninjutsu—beings of immense spiritual and physical might.
But even the Ōtsutsuki bled red, not divine ichor.
If he could transplant every organ from this body, he could reverse-engineer its bloodline and rebuild his own—gaining not only unmatched chakra potential but the vitality of a demigod.
This surgery… only he could perform. Not even Tsunade could hope to replicate it.
It was as if fate had prepared this for him.
His gaze shifted to the figure on the adjacent table.
A teenage boy, barely fifteen, his long black hair cascading like silk. His pale face was taut with tension, the "卍" caged bird seal carved into his forehead a mark of cruel subjugation.
His eyes, snow-white and trembling with fear, were unmistakably of the Hyuga branch family.
Hyuga Sho.
That was the boy's name.
It was Sho who had willingly delivered this Ōtsutsuki corpse to Orochimaru, along with the Hyuga clan's forbidden ancient scrolls.
The texts confirmed it: the Hyuga were direct descendants of the Ōtsutsuki. Meaning Sho was likely the most compatible vessel. Transplant rejection and complications would be minimal.
"Sho, only the heart remains. Are you ready?"
Orochimaru's voice was eerily gentle, deliberately omitting honorifics, calling him simply "Sho."
Such familiarity was usually reserved for loved ones or subordinates. But in this case, it was the arrogance of one who believed you already belong to me.
And he wasn't wrong.
Once the transplant was complete, Orochimaru would brand Sho with a new curse mark, unlock the technique of Soul Reincarnation, dismantle the Caged Bird Seal, and seize the boy's perfected body for himself.
He wasn't worried. Sho was just a weak, spineless branch member—a "failure," by Hyuga standards.
"Lord Orochimaru, please begin."
Sho's expression trembled with fear, but his voice was firm. His eyes glimmered with reverence and gratitude.
"You killed that old man for me. You avenged my parents. I offer you this pitiful body in return."
Orochimaru chuckled. Indeed, assassinating a Main Family elder had taken effort, and his dear old teacher must already suspect him.
But the ritual needed every ounce of his concentration—no illusions, no genjutsu to dull the pain. The host had to remain awake.
So he'd granted Sho's request, murdered the elder who had driven Sho's parents to death, and secured the boy's obedience.
And really, what did it matter? He was long disillusioned with Konoha. If gaining Ōtsutsuki power meant desertion, so be it.
"What are you trying to do, Orochimaru?"
The speaker was an old man in a lab coat—the very same Director of Konoha Hospital, now revealed to be one of Danzo's medical operatives. Codename: Owl.
His voice trembled with fear, but Orochimaru ignored him. Soon, Owl would obey anyway.
Discarding all distractions, Orochimaru activated the intricate seal array beneath the table.
Vmm—
Dark patterns lit up, binding Sho's body and channeling chakra into him. Tubes fed blood through an artificial circulatory system. The heart was next.
Shick.
Orochimaru conjured a chakra scalpel and cut along Sho's chest. With surgical precision, he removed Sho's living heart—leaving only part of the left atrial wall and the right atrium intact.
He turned and retrieved the Ōtsutsuki heart from its cold shell. Though still, it was vibrant red.
He raised it with near-reverence. Then, without pause, implanted it into Sho's chest.
"You're replacing his heart?" Owl gasped. "You think the two of us can pull this off?"
"I think you can," Orochimaru replied coldly. "Because if you can't, things are about to get messy."
Owl flinched, but reluctantly stepped forward.
The heart transplant began.
It was a gamble—every vessel stitched by hand, any error fatal. Yet the chakra flooding Sho's body kept him barely clinging to life.
Time passed. Orochimaru's chakra reserves thinned.
At last, the vessels began to fuse. Even the cruciform incision across Sho's chest began to close under Mystic Palm.
"One last step," Orochimaru murmured. "I'm releasing the life-sustaining barrier now."
He was pale, drained. So was Owl. Orochimaru stared intently at Sho's body.
"Sho… don't disappoint me."
Everything hinged on this moment.
Would Hyuga Sho survive the power of the Ōtsutsuki?
Thump.
A deep drumbeat echoed. Veins bulged across Sho's body like leaf veins under frost.
The monitors went wild.
"AAAH!!"
Even prepared, Sho couldn't bear the pain. His scream split the chamber.
Blood surged like molten iron through his veins. His skin blistered with burst capillaries. His temperature soared.
"Use your chakra! Suppress the heart! Control it!" Orochimaru barked.
Vmm!
Sho's Byakugan pulsed. Chakra surged—and then his body went limp.
The monitors flatlined.
"Damn it!" Orochimaru's face darkened. "The Hyuga were supposed to be the perfect match! Why is he crashing?!"
If Sho failed, he'd have to resort to targeting the Main Family next.
No time.
He gathered the last of his chakra to retrieve the heart before it necrotized—
Thump...
A soft sound froze him. He looked up.
THUMP.
Sho's chest echoed again, louder this time.
The lab fell silent.
THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.
The heartbeat grew louder. Fierce. Relentless.
"…It's happening," Orochimaru whispered in awe, stepping closer as if toward a divine revelation.
The monitors stabilized. Sho's vitals were… inhuman. Unbelievably strong.
Finally…
"Yes."
A voice answered Orochimaru.
It was soft, like a bedtime story.
"At last. We've succeeded."
Startled, Orochimaru looked to the table.
Sho's eyes opened.
No longer the timid boy he remembered.
His once-pure Byakugan now shimmered with iridescent hues—fluid and layered, like molten glass between pale blue and white.
But it wasn't the color that unsettled Orochimaru.
It was the gaze—emotionless, bottomless, like a dead sea. Calm. Unfathomable.
Blood evaporated into red mist around him, cloaking his face in a soft, terrifying glow.
Strength erupted in his body. Cells rejoiced. Veins surged like spring rivers thawing.
"You—"
Owl's eyes widened, mouth opening in shock.
Shick.
A clean, cold cut. No pain—only silence.
The sound was softer than the wind. The flesh parted like silk.
Orochimaru turned instinctively. A red line bloomed across his cheek.
Owl's headless body collapsed with a splash. Blood rained in the chamber.
His head rolled with a hollow thud, expression still frozen in confused horror.
Blood sprayed like a fountain.
Only two figures remained.
"I've waited long enough."
Hyuga Sho sat up, gazing at his bloodstained hand.
He smiled.
"A night like this… ought to be silent."
Three years.
Three years to perfect this weak vessel. Three years to unlock his Ōtsutsuki bloodline.
And now…
[Ding!]
[Your lie: "Ōtsutsuki Corpse and Descendant" has been judged as: [Entering the Game], [Honeyed Words, Hidden Blades], [Falsehood Turned Truth]. Orochimaru experiences intense emotional resonance: [Deeply Convinced]. Gained 10,000 Fabrication Points.]
[Evaluation: A deceptive performance, like shadows on a wall—even a small man can cast a towering figure.]
[Remaining Fabrication Points: 10,041]
Orochimaru stared at the face he once called cowardly and weak.
Now it smiled like a child watching ants writhe beneath a fingertip.
Pure evil.