Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Two extreme variables.

Combined.

Under Orochimaru’s deliberate guidance and calculated research, what kind of monster would they create?

What kind of disaster would they unleash?

The mere thought was chilling.

”We have to find them as soon as possible,” Jiraiya said gravely, all humor gone. ”Before this spirals beyond recovery.”

”Agreed.” Tsunade slammed her fist down. ”Alert every intelligence network. Raise the priority to the highest level. Whatever the cost—find Orochimaru and Karin. This time, we cannot let them slip out of sight.”

Deep within one of Orochimaru’s hidden bases, at the end of a dim corridor, the space suddenly opened up into a vast underground chamber.

Even one of the Legendary Sannin froze at the sight before him.

Karin stood atop a raised stone platform.

Her small, still-childlike frame contrasted sharply with the hundreds of experimental subjects kneeling below her in dense rows.

She waved her arms, cheeks flushed with excitement, her voice echoing through the cavern.

”…This filthy world has blinded you! Only the great power of the Lord of Demons can cleanse all things!”

”The destruction of Kusagakure was merely the first step in sweeping away the dust!”

”Under the radiance of the Lord of Demons, we shall be reborn! We shall see the truth!”

Her speech was chaotic. Illogical. Even Orochimaru found it difficult to endure.

If not for his desire to understand her abilities, he would have already walked away.

His golden snake eyes narrowed.

What exactly this so-called ”Lord of Demons” was—he didn’t know.

What truly interested him was how Karin was using these people—his experimental ”materials,” individuals who should have been broken by fear or numbness.

Then something changed.

The subjects’ expressions shifted.

The emptiness faded.

Fear transformed into fervor.

Their backs straightened. Their heads lifted. Their gazes locked onto Karin as if drawing strength from her presence.

Orochimaru prided himself on persuasion. He had lured followers with promises of power and purpose.

He had witnessed Root’s brutal brainwashing methods.

But this—

Was different.

Karin offered no concrete rewards. Displayed no new power.

She merely repeated phrases—”The Lord is great,” ”The world is filthy”—again and again.

And somehow, a fire ignited within them.

The efficiency was beyond anything Orochimaru had ever seen.

Suddenly, Karin’s voice rose to a crescendo.

She spread her arms wide and shouted with all her strength:

”All glory to the Lord of Demons!”

It was a spark to dry tinder.

”Lord of Demons!”

”Lord of Demons!!”

”Lord of Demons!!!”

Hundreds of voices merged into a frenzied torrent that shook the underground chamber.

They bowed repeatedly, faces twisted in ecstatic devotion.

It was absurd.

It was grotesque.

It was real.

Orochimaru’s pupils contracted.

”…They’ve been converted already?” he murmured hoarsely.

He had thought Karin relied purely on brute strength and notoriety.

Now he saw something far more dangerous.

This ”Demon Child” could implant belief.

And then—

The situation escalated beyond even his expectations.

Amid the thunderous chants, a visible transformation occurred.

The kneeling bodies began to swell.

Muscles bulged grotesquely beneath their skin. Veins writhed like coiled serpents. A violent aura radiated outward.

Individuals once weak—some even physically damaged—now emanated power several times greater than before.

”How… is that possible?!”

Orochimaru nearly lost composure.

He had dedicated his life to forbidden techniques, genetic modification, ritual experimentation.

Power required sacrifice. Procedure. Risk.

Never had he witnessed strength manifest through belief alone.

Faith… directly converting into physical power?

It shattered every framework he understood.

Shock quickly gave way to hunger.

If this phenomenon could be analyzed…

Replicated…

Controlled…

His gaze shifted between Karin—standing as though bathed in invisible radiance—and the empowered subjects.

A thought surfaced, unbidden.

What if I call out that name?

The idea felt absurd. Even humiliating.

But curiosity devoured pride.

He licked his lips and muttered softly, almost awkwardly:

”Lord… Lord of Demons… Lord of Demons.”

His voice was swallowed by the roar of fanaticism.

He monitored his chakra carefully.

Nothing changed.

Perhaps his faith wasn’t sincere enough?

Perhaps he hadn’t shouted loudly enough?

Orochimaru’s expression shifted. Finally, he suppressed his dignity as a powerful shinobi and raised his voice slightly.

”Lord of Demons!”

”Lord of Demons!”

Still—

Nothing.

No surge of strength.

No transformation.

No divine response.

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