Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

Orochimaru’s words were delivered casually—like a handout, like dismissing a stray dog blocking the road.

”You—!”

”Bastard!”

”Orochimaru! How dare you speak to the Third Hokage like that?!”

The Konoha shinobi behind Hiruzen exploded in outrage.

Their eyes were bloodshot, fury blazing.

Orochimaru—Konoha’s traitor, an S-rank missing-nin, his hands stained with the blood of their comrades—was now speaking down to the Third Hokage as if granting charity. Telling him to leave. Saying he had ”no time to kill him”?

It was humiliation beyond measure.

An insult to Konoha. To the Hokage. To every shinobi present.

Hiruzen’s face darkened like storm clouds. Veins bulged across the back of his hand as he gripped the Adamantine Staff.

Every shinobi who had followed him here was loyal to the core. They could die for Konoha—but they would not endure this disgrace.

”Orochimaru,” Hiruzen said slowly, each word squeezed through clenched teeth, ”it seems you’ve decided… to remain here today.”

He raised Enma.

The suffocating pressure of the ”Professor,” the Third Hokage, spread like a lion stirring from slumber.

”Perfect,” Orochimaru’s slit pupils narrowed, danger flickering within. ”It’s been a long time since I properly experienced your teachings, sensei. I wonder… how much you’ve declined over the years?”

Kabuto adjusted his glasses and stepped back half a pace, hands already forming seals—clearly prepared to support, perhaps even to employ Edo Tensei if necessary.

Meanwhile—

Karin, still seated atop one of the raised heads of the Eight-Headed Serpent statue, seemed utterly indifferent to the tension below.

She tapped the stone lightly.

”Come on… stop hiding… I found you.”

”If you don’t come out, I’ll smash you, okay?”

”Please don’t,” the ancient, mysterious voice that had once appeared in the projection responded hurriedly, tinged with helplessness. ”I have no physical form. I cannot emerge.”

”Oh?” Karin pouted briefly, then brightened. She pointed cheerfully at Orochimaru and Kabuto below.

”Fine then. Just hand over the Devil Fruit. I’ll let them play with it.”

The cavern trembled with shock.

Hiruzen and the Konoha shinobi felt their hearts jolt violently.

This demon child intended to give the Devil Fruit to Orochimaru?

Orochimaru’s golden eyes blazed with unrestrained greed. His tongue flicked instinctively across his lips.

”However…” the mysterious voice hesitated, ”for those who possess chakra, the Devil Fruit is not a blessing. It may well be a fatal poison.”

Karin’s face darkened slightly.

The voice hurried to clarify.

”It is not refusal. You understand—chakra is not merely a blend of physical and spiritual energy. It carries… deeper imprints. Echoes of ancient existences.”

It paused, as if recalling something from antiquity.

”The Devil Fruit’s core power lies in the ’devil’ dwelling within it.”

”The eater must confront and merge with that devil’s consciousness through their own will. Only then can the power be gradually mastered.”

”But if one’s chakra already contains… other conscious impurities… introducing a ’devil’ consciousness—”

”Basically,” the voice simplified hastily, ”their chakra isn’t clean! It’s not just their own. There are other ’things’ mixed in!”

”Eating a Devil Fruit would be like stuffing three consciousnesses into one mind—yourself, the hidden impurities in your chakra, and the devil from the fruit.”

”If you win, maybe you control the fruit. But who knows if those other ’impurities’ won’t take advantage and twist you half-mad?”

”If you lose? Your body and soul become the battlefield—and the spoils. Best case, you become someone’s puppet. Worst case… boom. You explode. Or become something indescribable.”

Karin’s eyes lit up.

She immediately began glancing back and forth between Orochimaru and Kabuto with eager curiosity—like a child eyeing experimental subjects.

For the first time, Orochimaru’s expression turned truly unpleasant.

He had devoted his life to merging powers, to dissecting life’s essence. He prided himself on mastery over his own chakra.

But this touched upon something he had never examined closely—perhaps deliberately ignored.

The idea of ”impurities of consciousness.”

Behind his glasses, Kabuto’s gaze sharpened.

”In summary,” the mysterious voice concluded gravely, ”for those who possess chakra, forcibly consuming a Devil Fruit will most likely trigger catastrophic internal conflict. The probable outcome is loss of self—or total collapse.”

”Only beings born without chakra are suitable vessels.”

Hiruzen felt a fraction of the storm in his chest subside—though not his vigilance.

So that was the limitation.

Perhaps this would at least prevent Orochimaru from claiming it outright.

Karin seemed satisfied. Her displeasure faded, replaced by that playful smile again.

”See? It’s not that I won’t give it to you. You’re just… too dirty. You’d break.”

Orochimaru’s face remained shadowed, but the greed in his eyes did not vanish.

If not suitable for consumption—

Then what about research?

Extraction?

Grafting?

Or perhaps…

Creating a suitable vessel?

To him, limitations were merely puzzles.

The atmosphere in the cavern grew heavier, tangled with silent calculations.

Then—

Tap… tap… tap…

Heavy, irregular footsteps echoed from the rear tunnel.

Not hurried. Not slow.

Just steady.

The sound carried an unnatural, woody resonance.

Everyone turned.

Even Karin.

From the dim green glow emerged a tall figure clad in a dark-gray cloak, skin like rough bark.

And in his hand—

A severed head.

Its eyes were wide open, frozen in terror and disbelief.

”Danzō?!!”

Hiruzen’s voice broke in shock.

The cavern fell into absolute silence.

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