Chapter 8: The Ghost of The Uchiha's Rebellion

Madara Uchiha moved like a phantom through the Land of Earth, his crimson Sharingan gleaming in the cold mountain air.

The world believed him dead.

A relic of the past.

A fool who had walked away from Konoha, leaving Hashirama to build his dream without him.

But the world was wrong.

Madara was not a man of the past.

He was the future.

And tonight, he would remind them all why his name was feared.

The Assault on Iwagakure

The Hidden Stone sat nestled within towering cliffs, a fortress of unbreakable rock and unwavering pride. Its shinobi were hardened warriors, built for endurance and war.

But even mountains could fall.

And tonight, they would.

Under the cover of darkness, Madara descended upon the village alone.

He did not bring an army.

He did not need one.

A wave of fire swept through the outskirts, igniting the homes of unsuspecting shinobi. The alarm was raised. Iwa-nin flooded the streets, weapons drawn, chakra flaring.

Then—

"Fire Style: Majestic Destroyer Flame."

A wall of searing fire engulfed the village, turning night into day. The flames consumed everything in their path, melting stone, reducing buildings to ash.

Screams filled the air.

Madara walked through the chaos, untouched.

This was not war.

This was a message.

A reminder that the Uchiha were not to be forgotten.

And then, from the heart of the village—

Two figures emerged.

One old. One young.

Mu, the Second Tsuchikage.

Onoki, his apprentice.

Madara smirked. "Ah. Finally, something interesting."

The Second Tsuchikage vs. Madara

Mu's blank, bandaged face revealed nothing, but his chakra flared dangerously.

"You're a fool to come here alone, Uchiha."

Madara chuckled. "Alone? No, no, no… you are the ones who are alone."

Mu wasted no time. Hand signs blurred.

"Dust Release: Detachment of the Primitive World!"

A white-hot cube of pure annihilation shot toward Madara.

But the Uchiha vanished.

In the blink of an eye, he was above Mu, his gunbai swinging down like a guillotine.

Boom!

The earth shattered beneath Mu's feet as he barely dodged, his body flickering away. Invisible.

Onoki launched forward next, stone-coated fists aimed for Madara's ribs. "Earth Style: Fist of Adamantine!"

Madara caught his fist effortlessly.

"Not bad, brat."

Then he slammed Onoki into the ground with a casual flick of his wrist.

Mu reappeared behind him.

"Too slow."

Madara's Sharingan spun. His Susano'o erupted into existence—a massive spectral warrior swatting Mu out of the air before he could attack.

The Tsuchikage crashed into the mountainside, the impact sending tremors across the land.

Onoki struggled to rise, pain flashing across his young face. "This… this isn't a man."

Mu coughed, wiping blood from his lips. "No. This is a demon."

Madara's Mangekyō Sharingan burned.

And in the next instant—

The battlefield was silent.

Mu collapsed, his body broken.

Onoki could only watch in horror as Madara ripped a scroll from Mu's vest—a forbidden document detailing experiments on Hashirama's cells.

The Uchiha smirked. "This will do."

Then—

He vanished.

Iwagakure burned behind him.

A warning to the world.

The Uchiha was not finished.

The Hunt for the Nine-Tails

Weeks passed.

The world reeled from Madara's assault on Iwagakure.

Rumors spread like wildfire. The dead Uchiha had returned. He had defied history itself.

And he wasn't finished.

Far beyond the borders of Konoha, deep within a dense, uncharted forest—

The Nine-Tails stirred.

A towering mass of hatred and malice, Kurama prowled through his domain, his tails lashing against the earth.

But then—

He felt it.

A presence.

Dark. Overwhelming.

A pair of crimson eyes pierced the darkness.

Madara stepped forward, calm, composed. His Sharingan burned brighter than ever.

Kurama growled. "Uchiha."

Madara smiled. "Fox."

Tonight, the greatest beast in the world would bow.

And the real war would begin.