Near midnight, most of Konoha had sunk into dreams.
Most—but not all.
There were always a few people who refused to waste something as precious as time doing the same things ordinary folk did.
To Orochimaru, time was the rarest treasure in the world.
Even at this hour—after even the workaholic Third Hokage had gone home to rest—Orochimaru was still in his lab.
As the Third's disciple and one of the "Legendary Sannin," he had more than enough status to justify a dedicated research complex. The building was fully equipped, well-staffed, and even wired with rare electrical lighting.
The lab was bright as day.
Orochimaru, dressed in a white kimono, stood quietly watching the result of his latest experiment.
"L-Lord Orochimaru…"
The researcher in charge of logging the data was sweating through his clothes. He wiped his brow and swallowed hard.
"The experiment failed. The subject… couldn't withstand that power."
Through the glass of the isolation room, they could see it clearly.
A man writhed and screamed in agony as his flesh stiffened and turned to wood.
In the span of a few blinks, a living person was completely overtaken—transformed into a life-sized wooden sculpture. Tender green branches burst out from his limbs and torso, grotesquely lush.
Orochimaru's slit-gold eyes shifted, cold gaze pinning the recorder in place.
"L-Lord Orochimaru…"
The man trembled all over. Being stared at by those eyes felt like having a serpent coiling around him, fangs poised. Terror erupted from somewhere deep in his gut; he staggered back a few steps without meaning to.
After a moment of silence, Orochimaru relented.
"Go."
His hoarse voice slid through the air like a snake's tongue.
"Report the results to the Third."
"Y-yes, Lord Orochimaru!"
The researcher all but bolted, exhaling in relief as he fled.
Too terrifying. The man was simply too terrifying.
Just being pinned by those pale-gold vertical pupils made him feel like prey about to be swallowed whole.
Watching the panicked retreat, Orochimaru felt… nothing.
He'd never cared much about anyone else's opinion. He certainly didn't waste energy on how people looked at him. The only thing worth caring about was the truth of life.
"Another failure…"
He drew his thoughts back in, a hint of cold amusement flickering through his narrow eyes.
"The First Hokage's power really isn't easy to control. Looks like I've disappointed sensei again. And we're running low on test subjects…"
He walked over to his desk, sat down, and pulled out a scroll, carefully logging the experiments of the past few days.
After a moment of consideration at the end, he wrote:
"Wood Release research remains slow. At least another hundred test subjects will be required."
When he finally set the brush down, even someone on the cusp of Kage-level like Orochimaru couldn't deny a wave of fatigue.
Days of sleepless work and ceaseless thinking caught up all at once, melting into a heavy drowsiness that dragged him downward.
"Mm. I'll just rest for a little while."
He allowed himself to relax. His narrow eyes slowly drifted shut.
Just as that thought formed, the darkness thickened.
Viscous black mist surged in, thick with a bass murmur, like thousands of voices whispering at once. It swallowed him in an instant.
I'm under attack—?!
That was Orochimaru's last clear thought.
Then his consciousness was swept away, dragged down into a bottomless dark.
When awareness returned, he moved in a blur—dropping into a fighting stance, eyes raking across his surroundings.
A vast, towering cathedral. A dome built from countless white bones, stacked from creatures of every kind. Legions of empty sockets stared down at him like a silent jury.
Eerie and sacred.
Two opposite auras, woven together perfectly in this place.
"Looks like the Lord has chosen another one."
The voice came from beneath a towering bone cross.
A figure stood there, shrouded in haze, tone calm.
"There's no need to be so tense. At least here, no one can threaten your life."
When did this person appear? Orochimaru snapped his head toward the sound, pupils narrowing.
I never sensed him at all.
He wasn't a sensory type, true—but you didn't reach near-Kage level with any obvious blind spots.
Yet this stranger had slipped past his perception like a ghost.
"Who are you? Invading Konoha like this—are you trying to start a war?"
Orochimaru's mind raced, but his face stayed composed. His tongue flicked over dry lips as he let menace creep into his tone.
"And if you think some cheap illusion can trap me… you're sorely mistaken."
A bone cathedral. A mysterious figure. Being swallowed by darkness the moment he drifted off.
Put together, the answer was obvious: he'd been caught in some kind of genjutsu.
He clapped his hands together in a rapid seal. Chakra surged.
"Genjutsu—Release!"
Boom.
A blast of force rippled through the cathedral's hall.
When the air steadied, nothing had changed. Orochimaru was still standing in the same place, under the same bone dome.
His face darkened.
"What a powerful illusion… Just what are you?"
"I am the Lord's regent. The King of His angels. You may call me…"
The figure under the cross stepped down the stairs, voice serene but threaded with a strange authority that echoed through the hall like a hymn.
"Adam."
"This place is neither genjutsu nor dream."
Sogetsu—wrapped in obscuring mist—smiled faintly.
"It is my Lord's kingdom. And you, Orochimaru… have been chosen as His emissary. Our meeting is fate. Everything that led you here was for one purpose: to awaken the slumbering Primordial Creator."
Who am I? Where is this? What am I supposed to do?
Orochimaru's head was a snarl of question marks.
He understood every word, but together they refused to form a coherent picture.
"Do you believe in destiny, Orochimaru?"
Adam's voice was mild.
Orochimaru frowned. A prickle of unease crawled up his spine.
"What are you getting at?"
"My meaning is very simple."
Adam's tone stayed almost gentle.
"If you knew every step of what your future held… would the "you" standing here now feel happy?"
"Ridiculous."
Orochimaru snorted, folding his arms, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
"You're saying you can see my future?"
"If you were told your final ending in advance, and shown every hardship on the road leading there… could that be called enlightenment?" Adam went on, more to himself than to Orochimaru, pacing slowly around him in a wide circle.
"In other words: the awakened are always happy. What do you think, Orochimaru?"
"Heh. Now that's an entertaining question."
The strange phrasing hooked his interest despite himself. He licked his lips, a low, amused chuckle rumbling in his throat.
"If you know your fate and still can't change it, how could that possibly be happiness?"
"Everyone is a slave to destiny. You can struggle against it, but you will never truly win."
Adam's voice was as calm as ever.
"In that case, why not accept it peacefully? If you possess enlightenment—if you fully understand what awaits you—then even knowing the future, you can face it without fear. Isn't that a kind of happiness, in its own way?"
"Seems we won't agree on what 'fate' means."
Orochimaru snorted. The pale violet shadow around his eyes narrowed.
"If you have nothing else, you'd best let me go soon. Otherwise…"
His hand moved behind the cover of his sleeve, fingers flashing through a hidden seal.
Several snakes slid silently from within his wide kimono cuffs, tongues flicking.
"Stand down, Orochimaru."
In the next instant, a shadow appeared behind him like a ghost.
Clink.
A flash of cold white steel brushed the skin of his neck.
Orochimaru felt the chill bite into his throat. He glanced down, pupils tightening. A short blade rested against his neck, the edge so keen he had no doubt that the slightest wrong move would send his head flying.
"This knife…"
His eyes locked on the weapon. For a heartbeat, real fear cut through his composure. He turned his head, staring at the one holding him.
Long silver hair tied back in a short ponytail. A face on the older side of middle-aged, the kind you'd forget in a crowd.
Utterly ordinary… yet seared into his memory.
The sight froze Orochimaru in place, a thunderbolt running down his spine.
"You're… White Fang? Hatake Sakumo?"
His voice cracked.
"You're not dead?!"
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