The air in the room was Pungent with the coppery smell of blood, the silence broken only by the goon's ragged, panicked breathing.
Madara stood amidst the carnage he'd wrought, his crimson eyes, glowing faintly with the Sharingan's power, fixed on the last man standing or rather, the last man slumped against the wall.
The goon had been babbling, words tumbling out in a desperate flood about local churches, the ruling empire, some nonsense about heroes, and, most curiously, these so-called "otherworlder heroes."
It was a strange, unsolicited stream of information, spilling from the man like guts from a wound.
Madara hadn't asked for any of it, and the sheer panic driving the outburst made him pause. Why waste precious final breaths on this?
He tilted his head, a subtle, predatory movement. His gaze sharpened, cutting through the man's terror. "Are you just rambling nonsense because you feel death breathing down your neck?" Madara asked, his voice smooth, almost casual, yet carrying an edge that promised pain.
He casually raised a hand, examining the blood splattered across his fingers, then gave it a sharp flick, sending droplets arcing onto the already stained floor.
"Or," he continued, his eyes narrowing further, "are you trying to warn me? Trying to say that challenging this world, its churches and heroes, is pointless? That I'd be facing everyone?" The question hung in the air, less a query and more a dare, laced with a quiet, chilling menace.
The goon's desperate, almost crazed energy seemed to drain away, leaving behind a hollow shell. His eyes went wide, blank with confusion, the fear still present but now overshadowed by sheer disbelief. Madara's next words shattered what little grasp the man had left on the situation because of how hollow his voice sound.
"You might be right, in a way," Madara said, his voice dropping, losing its sharp edge and taking on a quiet, almost introspective quality. He wasn't looking at the goon anymore, but through him, his gaze distant. "For all my pride, for all the strength I've gathered, even after living close to a hundred years… I know failure intimately. Deep down, I carry its weight."
The goon's jaw went slack. A hundred years? He stared at the figure before him a young man, impossibly youthful, radiating deadly power but looking barely out of his teens.
The face was smooth, unburdened by age, the body lean and coiled like a viper. A century? It sounded like the ravings of a lunatic, yet the man's calm delivery, the weight behind his words... it sent a different kind of chill down the goon's spine.
Was he insane? Or was he something else entirely, something ancient and terrifying hiding behind a young mask? His fear twisted, knotting with a bewildering confusion.
Madara seemed utterly indifferent to the goon's internal turmoil. His attention remained elsewhere, lost in the vast, bleak landscape of his memories.
"I failed," he murmured, the words heavy, touched by a flicker of genuine, raw emotion that seemed alien on his face. "I couldn't save my own brother, Izuna." A shadow passed over his features, brief but profound.
"Then, I failed to strike down the one responsible, the one who built this so-called peace on sacrifice... because his brother," the name Tobirama went unspoken but hung in the air like poison, "was stronger in that moment, protecting him and everyone."
He took a slow step forward, the sound of his boot sole soft on the blood-slick floor. As he moved, the crimson glow in his eyes vanished, the intricate tomoe patterns receding, leaving behind only blackness.
Pure, empty black, like twin voids that seemed to drink the dim light in the room. They held no anger, no hatred, just an unnerving, soulless emptiness.
The goon flinched violently, pressing himself harder against the wall, his trembling escalating uncontrollably under that dead gaze.
"I saw something and tried to warn my clan of it," Madara continued, his voice a steady, low monotone now, colored only by the bitterness of memory. "I warned them. I told them the village, Konoha, would never accept them as equals or will treat them fairly even if they are doing now, that the peace was a lie, a cage. I urged them to break free, to reclaim their pride." A humorless, almost invisible smile touched his lips.
"But they wouldn't listen. Deafened by the lullaby of temporary peace, blinded by pathetic hope. They turned their backs on me, called me a traitor, a warmonger no less… saying I will lead my own clan to its end."
He stopped just feet from the terrified goon. "So, I set myself a new path. A plan so unreal that even kids would laugh at that." His voice regained a sliver of its former intensity, fueled by conviction, by the ghost of his ambition.
"To create a world where such things don't exist. No discrimination, no winners and losers born from conflict and hatred. A world of true unity, true peace, where everyone is victorious, bound in a shared dream." He paused, the silence stretching, heavy with the weight of unspoken history.
"And what happened?" His voice became flat again, laced with self-directed venom. "I failed there too. Betrayed. Not by an enemy I could fight, but by my own self. By trusting too much in my ownself, my own power, failing to see the that I too was nothing but a sacrificial pawn."
The goon was pressed hard against the cold stone wall in the corner, shaking like a leaf in a storm. A cold sweat dripped down his face, mixing with the grime.
His mind felt like a scrambled mess, buzzing with pure fear. He tried to swallow, but his throat was bone dry.
He managed to push out the words, his voice thin and cracking, "Why… why are you telling me all this?" None of it made sense.
Living a hundred years?
Failing a brother?
Betrayal?
It sounded crazy, like something you'd hear from a man lost in his own head and this man thought this because Madara was now a young boy no older than 19 years old.
But the look in Madara's eyes… that cold, hard certainty… it stopped him from laughing it off. It felt terrifyingly real.
Madara sighed, a soft sound that barely disturbed the tense air. He slowly ran a hand through his long, dark hair, like he was a little annoyed at having to explain.
"No reason, really," he said. His voice was calm, almost bored, but it had a heavy feeling behind it, like a hidden threat. "It's just… well, your life is about to end. So, I thought I'd chat." He paused, looking thoughtful for a second.
"I've felt that deep hopelessness before, you know? Trying to force change on the world. I got so close, but failed right when it mattered most." He waved a hand loosely, taking in the dingy room.
His red eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
"But this world? It's not right. It doesn't match the picture I have in my head. So, I'm going to keep breaking it and reshaping it until it does."
A spark of anger pushed through the goon's fear. Maybe it was stupidity, maybe just desperation. "You didn't listen, did you?!" he shouted, his voice going high and shaky. "You can't just do whatever you—!"
Madara's words sliced through his protest like a knife. "I don't care." Simple. Final. He took a step forward, then another.
He seemed to get bigger, casting a long shadow over the terrified goon. The air felt thick, heavy, like it was being squeezed out of the room. Just being near him was suffocating.
"I'm no saviour. If you're trying to slap a label on me, get that straight. I'm the opposite of whatever you call a hero. But those kids?" His gaze quickly flicked over to the small, trembling shapes of the demi-human children still huddled together.
"They were under my protection. And some worthless noble and a piece of trash slaver thought they could just take them from me?" Madara's voice dropped lower, colder. "That's not just a mistake. That's like spitting right in my face. A huge insult."
The goon's breath hitched loudly in his chest. His eyes went wide, trying to process Madara's chilling words. He opened his mouth, maybe to beg, maybe to curse, but no sound came out.
Before he could even form a thought, Madara's hand shot out like a snake striking. Faster than he could blink, strong fingers wrapped around his neck, shutting off his air instantly. An iron grip.
Panic exploded inside the goon. He gasped, making strangled, wheezing sounds. His hands flew up, clawing desperately at Madara's unyielding arm, but it was like scratching solid rock.
His vision started to blur, spots dancing in front of his eyes. His legs kicked wildly, thrashing against the floor in a desperate, useless fight for air. But Madara's strength was absolute, crushing.
Then, with a sudden, sickeningly precise twist, Madara snapped the goon's neck. There was a horrible crack sound that echoed in the small space.
It wasn't enough to kill him, not quite. It was calculated. It severed something vital, cutting off all signals from his brain to his body below the neck.
Instantly, the goon's body went limp, all the fight draining out of him. He collapsed onto the dusty floor like a sack of potatoes, his head lolling at an unnatural angle.
His eyes, however, stayed wide open, staring straight ahead, filled with a silent, screaming terror.
He could still see the room, hear the faint whimpers of the children, feel the rough floor beneath his cheek, feel the agonizing throb in his neck.
But he was trapped. A prisoner in his own deadened body, unable to move a finger, unable to make a sound. A living nightmare.
Madara crouched down beside him, bringing his face close. His voice was a low, mocking whisper right near the goon's ear.
"See? I didn't kill you. You gave me some useful information, so you get to live." He paused, and a faint, cruel smirk touched the edge of his lips. What Madara had done felt infinitely worse than death.
Getting smoothly to his feet, Madara cast one last, dismissive glance down at the paralyzed man trapped in his own horror.
"Well," he said, his voice returning to that casual, yet intent tone, "I suppose it's time I pay a visit to this someone who was foolish enough to spit in my face." He turned, his dark cloak swirling around him, leaving the goon alone in his silent, motionless hell.
….
A/N: Sorry guys i just got a little too focused on this and made this scene longer than what i had hoped for. Next chapter will be about madara visiying the fat slave merchant man.
And if you want to read jjk(gojo, megumi, yuji and nobara) x shield hero crossover or like i would like to say it (Four Idiots Against The Wave)
Them you join my discord: https://discord.gg/5Y7uZ2kN2Y
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