Naruto: End of the Shinobi World

The Evil Corpse’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at those words.

He did not answer immediately. Instead, he slowly raised his eyes, his gaze seeming to pierce through the thick mountain rock and reach the gray, overcast sky beyond the cave—the very sky that had witnessed the true body being forcibly ”taken away.”

His gaze was as heavy as iron, while an extremely complicated light churned in the depths of his eyes.

There was lingering fear of that power beyond all comprehension, the residual agony of having his soul torn apart that had accompanied the loss of the true body, and perhaps... a strange, restless emotion that even he himself had yet to fully understand.

”Can he come back?”

Black Zetsu did not press him. Instead, he silently glided half a step closer, lowering his voice. Hidden within his tone was an almost imperceptible probe, like a snake flicking out its tongue.

The answer to that question concerned both his plans and the position of the ”being” before him.

The Evil Corpse remained silent.

Only the sound of water dripping from the cave walls and the faint hiss of unstable Chakra circulating around the Evil Corpse remained within the cave.

The silence seemed to stretch, solidify, and grow unbearably heavy.

After a long while, the Evil Corpse slowly shook his head.

There was no explanation. No speculation. No unnecessary emotion.

Just a simple gesture of denial.

Yet the meaning contained within that gesture weighed more heavily than a thousand pounds.

It almost declared that the hope of the true body’s return was remote—or perhaps... nonexistent.

Seeing his response, the deeply rooted wariness and fear Black Zetsu had always held toward the very existence known as the Sage of Six Paths quietly began to loosen.

It was as if the enormous weight hanging over his heart had finally been lifted.

A ”clone” that had lost its true body, no matter how powerful it might be, seemed several degrees less threatening—and far more manageable.

As most of his apprehension faded, it was replaced by more complicated thoughts, a mixture of calculation and opportunism.

Black Zetsu’s pitch-black ”body” leaned forward slightly, like a curious observer—or a conspirator carefully guiding the conversation.

He raised a ”hand” formed from shadows and stroked the outline of a chin that did not exist, speaking in a deliberately contemplative tone.

”The true body is gone...”

He paused, allowing the weight of those words to settle.

”Then what exactly are you?”

Black Zetsu raised his ”eyes” and stared directly at the Evil Corpse.

”From now on, what identity—what kind of existence—will you assume in this... shinobi world?”

He placed subtle emphasis on the words shinobi world, as if reminding the other man that this was no longer the shinobi world envisioned by the true body—a world he was meant to protect or guide.

It was now a world of people that had lost its highest authority and could descend into chaos at any moment.

Those words were like a pale bolt of lightning tearing through a silent night sky!

Or a spark cast into the depths of a tranquil pool, instantly detonating the dormant volcano beneath it!

The Evil Corpse shuddered violently!

Within those Rinnegan filled with ferocity, the former heaviness, pain, and lingering fear were swept away like mist before a raging gale.

In their place appeared a sharp, blazing light of sudden realization.

There was the clarity of someone who had been awakened.

There was the ecstasy of long-suppressed ambition finally being unleashed.

And there was a desperate, resolute determination—as though he were willing to stake everything on a single path.

”Of course I’m the true body.”

The Evil Corpse’s voice was no longer hoarse or weak.

Instead, it was cold and domineering, firm beyond all doubt.

The corners of his lips slowly curled upward into a smile devoid of all warmth—a chilling grin that even carried a hint of savagery.

”The true body is gone. Therefore, I am the true body!”

As his words fell, the unstable Chakra surrounding him seemed to be infused with a violent new soul and erupted into a furious surge!

An even more solid, vicious, and utterly unrestrained aura burst from his battered body like a ferocious beast breaking free of its final shackles!

The cave trembled violently. Fragments of stone rained down, while the glowing minerals embedded in the walls flickered erratically.

Gone was the subtle sense of restraint that came with being a ”clone.”

What remained was only an expanding will of self and an absolute declaration of power!

He abruptly rose from the boulder. His movements no longer carried the sluggishness of someone gravely injured. Instead, they were filled with the restless strength of new life.

He raised a hand and casually brushed nonexistent dust from his robes, every movement carrying the solemnity of a ritual in which he redefined himself.

Then he lifted his eyes.

His gaze was like lightning, as though it could pierce through the mountain itself and shoot straight into the heavens.

His voice rang through the sealed cave like clashing steel, carrying the domineering force of an unquestionable verdict.

”From this day forward, there will be no Evil Corpse in this world!”

He took a step forward, and the stone beneath his feet cracked.

”There is only me—”

Another step.

His aura climbed to its peak, and his Chakra nearly took on the form of tangible flames.

”The Sage of Six Paths.”

He hurled those final four words into the air like a roar, filled with the force of an absolute proclamation.

”I am the true Sage of Six Paths!”

As his declaration faded, deathly silence filled the cave.

Only the violent Chakra surrounding him continued its silent roar—and Black Zetsu’s complicated, unreadable gaze remained hidden in the darkness where no one could see it.

The Heavenly Curtain fixed upon that most shocking and chilling moment: the Evil Corpse’s arrogant figure declaring himself and replacing the true body, set against the gray skies outside the cave, where unseen currents were already beginning to surge.

The usurpation of the clone had begun.

Hearing the Evil Corpse’s decisive declaration, so arrogant it seemed as though he intended to redefine the laws of heaven and earth, Black Zetsu neither agreed nor challenged him immediately.

Instead, from within that mass of writhing darkness came a low, brief, yet deeply meaningful chuckle.

”If you’re the true body...”

Black Zetsu’s voice was like a venomous snake slithering across dead leaves, sticky with malice and carrying undisguised provocation.

”Then... what is the Good Corpse?”

It was a simple question, spoken lightly.

Yet it was like a poisoned needle, striking with perfect precision at the most sensitive and vulnerable point in the Evil Corpse’s newly inflated sense of self—the existence born from the same source as him, equal in strength, yet embodying the exact opposite nature.

The effect was immediate.

The arrogant grin of dominion froze on the Evil Corpse’s face before turning completely cold, as though swept by an icy wind.

Contempt and fury surged through his Rinnegan like erupting magma. He practically forced out a sneer through clenched teeth.

”The Good Corpse? That softhearted fool who never stops preaching about righteousness thinks he’s worthy of competing with me?”

He raised his hand, the Chakra swirling around his fingertips as though he were weighing the worth of an invisible opponent.

”In what way is he superior to me? Power? Decisiveness? Or his understanding of this cruel world?!”

Black Zetsu still said nothing.

His pitch-black form swayed slightly as he gently and slowly shook his head at the furious Evil Corpse.

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