Later that day, far from the ruined valley where Danzo stood, the same endless rain fell over another corner of the Land of Rain.

Inside a hollowed cliffside, dim torchlight wavered against the slick rock walls.

The air smelled of wet stone and iron.

Nagato lay on a crude cot, his longer hair messy and lost its usual crimson luster, his breathing shallow, skin pale from exhaustion.

The pressure around his eyes had receded, but the faint ripples of the Rinnegan still pulsed beneath his lids, like a storm refusing to fade.

Konan sat beside him, silent and composed, her paper cloak half-soaked. She hadn’t left his side since the battle.

Her eyes stayed sharp, calm, and unreadable, watching over him as if guarding both a patient and a purpose.

Even in stillness, she looked ready to kill the next thing that breathed too close.

White Zetsu leaned against the wall, watching lazily.

“He’s alive, barely. Pretty impressive, actually. Most people explode when they pull that statue stunt.”

Black Zetsu’s voice cut in, low and rasped. “Silence. Let him regain awareness.”

Obito stood across from them, half of his mask glinting faintly in the torchlight.

Twin Zetsu’s body lingered in the background, the white half humming idly, the black half quiet as a whisper.

Only the sound of dripping water filled the silence.

When Nagato finally stirred, his eyelids twitched, and he exhaled a shaky breath.

He didn’t need to look to know the state of his body. His legs were gone.

His chakra coils burned and frayed. Even moving his arm sent pain through his ribs.

Konan leaned closer. “Don’t move yet,” she said quietly. “You were out for hours.”

He blinked slowly, then turned his head toward Obito. “You… came back.”

Obito stepped forward until the torchlight caught half his mask.

“Of course I did. You weren’t finished yet.”

Obito knew what he meant. Nagato was referring to his earlier approach a few days ago, the first time they’d met, when Yahiko was still alive, and the first time they’d turned him away.

Nagato’s voice came faint but steady.

“My legs are gone. My body’s useless. I can’t even walk anymore. Tell me, what use am I now to your plan?”

“You still have the eyes,” Obito said simply. “And the will.”

Nagato let out a weak laugh, a sound that carried more bitterness than humor. “A will doesn’t win wars.”

Obito crouched down to his level. “No, but it decides who does.”

For a moment, only the rain outside filled the silence.

Then Obito continued, calm and deliberate. “You wanted peace. The world mocked you for it. The same world that destroyed Yahiko, crippled you, and turned this country into a graveyard.”

He gestured toward the cave mouth, where the dim outlines of rain poured endlessly over ruined stone. “I’m offering you a path to force peace. One that doesn’t depend on mercy.”

Nagato’s gaze flickered, not with trust, but curiosity. “Force peace…”

“It’s the only kind that lasts,” Obito replied. “You and I both know that.”

Konan’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you gain from it? You didn’t come here out of compassion.”

Obito took a few steps forward, lowering his head slightly. His voice was calm, deliberate.

“Then I’ll be just as direct. We want to join you. We’ll act under your banner, but with the freedom to move as we see fit. In return, we’ll help you reshape what your group stands for—to give it a purpose that can truly realize your dream of peace.”

He paused briefly, letting the rain outside fill the silence before continuing. “We’ll show you the real method, step by step.”

“A new purpose, after everything that happened today? You expect us to trust you?”

Obito didn’t flinch. “Not right away. Trust isn’t given overnight. We don’t fully trust you either. But remember, we saved you. We could have left you to die or taken your Rinnegan. Instead, we’re here, offering to help you recover. We respect that power. It was given to you by fate itself to change this world.”

He straightened slightly, his tone softening. “All we offer is guidance. A path to use that power as it was meant to be used.”

Nagato’s expression didn’t change, but suspicion edged his voice this time.

“You knew where to find me. You appeared the moment I collapsed. How?”

Obito nodded, almost pleased at the question. “We didn’t know you personally, but I control something very few can even imagine, a sensory network that spans the world. You see that one there?”

He gestured toward White Zetsu, who gave a lazy wave.

“He’s one of my creations. A living sensor, part of a species that can feel chakra through the earth itself. There are countless others like him. When you unleashed the Rinnegan’s full power, the surge was impossible to miss. I had Zetsu mark the site, and I arrived the instant we confirmed your location.”

Even Konan, who rarely reacted to anyone’s words, found herself watching him a little closer, silently gauging how much of that was truth and how much was illusion.

Nagato’s voice came out quiet but still sharp, as if testing him this time. “So you appeared at the perfect time, with limitless resources, claiming coincidence. What are you really after?”

Obito crouched slightly so that their eyes met. “You, Nagato, are the reincarnation of the Sage of Six Paths, the man who dreamed of ending conflict. I’ve been searching for someone like you. Someone who can become the center of a world without pain.”

His voice deepened, calm but heavy with conviction. “Together, we can make that happen. I have the means. You have the Rinnegan. With the tailed beasts, we can build a deterrent so powerful that the world will be forced into peace.”

Nagato was silent for a long moment.

The idea was dangerous, but it struck at the core of his own despair. A weapon to end all weapons.

Finally, he spoke, his tone still restrained. “A world without war through fear. You make it sound so simple. But how do you know so much about the Sage, or about me? What proof do you have that any of this is true?”

Obito’s single eye gleamed faintly behind the mask. “Because it’s my inheritance. The Uchiha were born from the Sage’s elder son. His teachings and his mistakes were passed down through us.”

He rose slowly, the firelight catching the faint curve of his mask. “My name is Madara Uchiha.”

The cave fell still. Even the dripping water seemed to pause.

White Zetsu tilted his head, silent for once. Konan’s gaze shifted between them, sharp but uncertain.

Nagato’s eyes lingered on the masked man, his Rinnegan reflecting the torchlight like a fading storm. For a long time, neither spoke.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, steady and endless, as if the whole world were listening.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep