Five years had passed since the fall of Thanos.
The world had changed. Cities had begun to rebuild, families were reunited, and peace—albeit fragile—settled like dust upon the lands. But not for him. Not for the shinobi who walked alone.
Itachi had disappeared the day the Titan fell. The Avengers thought he returned to his realm. They were wrong.
His body had been torn, but his spirit even more so. Lily's disappearance—no, her erasure—had left a void in him deeper than any wound a blade could inflict. He blamed himself. For not protecting her. For caring. For loving.
In a forgotten corner of the cosmos, beyond known galaxies and star systems, lay Nihilon—a forsaken land cursed by ancient celestial forces. A place where the universe discarded its mistakes, its horrors, its forgotten nightmares. A place that whispered to those broken enough to hear.
Itachi heard it. And he answered.
His cloak, once pristine and bearing the proud symbol of the Uchiha, now hung in tatters. His hair had grown, tangled and rough. The cold winds of Nihilon cut through the silence as he wandered its obsidian plains.
He hadn't spoken in months.
The first beings he encountered were remnants of the Voidborn—creatures of ink and bone, birthed from shadow, driven by pure instinct to consume. He faced them without hesitation. Kunai in hand, Sharingan ablaze, genjutsu flowing not just through illusion, but intent.
It wasn't a battle. It was an execution. A warning to the land.
But Nihilon wasn't impressed.
Time became fluid in the silence. Days? Weeks? Maybe years had passed. He fought, bled, recovered, and fought again. Each time, the enemies grew stronger, darker, more aware.
He had found a cavern—a makeshift home where he rested his body, though his mind never slept. The stone walls bore the marks of his fingers—etchings of faces long gone. Lily. Sasuke. His clan. Himself.
At night, he heard their voices. Not from memories, but from Nihilon itself. It spoke in sorrow. It fed on grief. And he was a feast.
Yet he stayed.
He chose to suffer. To redeem. To atone.
But even in darkness, destiny plots its course.
One day, the ground trembled. A presence, heavier than anything before, approached. It wasn't like the mindless Voidborn. This one was intelligent. It watched him. Studied him.
Tenebrix.
An ancient entity sealed eons ago. It spoke in whispers that made the air bleed. It offered him power, release, reunion. All he had to do was submit.
Itachi responded with silence—and steel.
The battle was unlike any before. Tenebrix twisted reality, turned memories into weapons. Lily's voice called out to him in the midst of combat. Sasuke's scream echoed. Flames of Amaterasu fought shadows that screamed.
Still, he did not falter.
His eyes bled. His chakra faded. His limbs trembled.
But he did not fall.
When the beast lay vanquished, the land grew quiet again. But something within Itachi had changed. He wasn't just a man anymore. The pain had reshaped him. Sharpened him.
He stood at the edge of a cliff, cloak fluttering in the void wind, gazing at the eternal darkness.
"This world doesn't forgive," he murmured to himself, voice hoarse and rough. "But I'll make sure it remembers."
And so, the Crimson Raven turned.
Back to a world that had moved on without him.
But he had not moved on.
He was no longer just Itachi of the Uchiha.
He was something more.
Something feared.
Something broken.
Something reborn.