As soon as Uchiha Itachi's presence descended like a storm cloud on the Land of Rice Fields, the Masked Man didn't hesitate—his body flickered, slipping soundlessly into the Kamui dimension like a phantom dissolving into mist.

Watching silently from the shadows, Orochimaru narrowed his golden eyes.

"Interesting…" he murmured.

He had seen it—clearly this time. The activation sequence, the spatial distortion pattern, the delay between phase entry and reappearance. Orochimaru committed it all to memory, every precise motion of that peculiar Sharingan technique.

Then, without a sound, his body melted into a viscous stream of mud, sliding beneath the surface of the earth like a serpent burrowing into the deep.

A Forest Clearing, Minutes Later...

From the earth, Orochimaru rose once again, pale and smiling beneath the eerie moonlight. Standing not far ahead, at the entrance to the clearing, was Uchiha Itachi, as silent as a stone monument.

"Itachi..." Orochimaru's voice slithered from his lips with mock pleasantness, tinged with provocation. "Did you come all this way... to check on me?"

Itachi's reply was short, his tone devoid of warmth. "The leader demands your return to Amegakure within three days."

"Oh? So urgent?" Orochimaru gave a casual laugh. "I still have some... celestial data left to analyze. That falling planet won't track itself."

But Itachi's eyes remained fixed on him, unblinking.

"The Akatsuki will make its move at the Five Kage Summit," Itachi said flatly. "Nagato plans to reveal our true power. He believes unity will follow exposure."

"Unity through intimidation," Orochimaru muttered. "How very... idealistic."

Inwardly, Orochimaru sneered.

So that's the plan. Use the crisis to force the Five Great Nations into submission? How laughably naive. Nagato, for all his power, still believed in salvation through spectacle.

Orochimaru gave a small, amused bow. "Very well. You have my word. I'll return within three days."

As Itachi turned to leave, Orochimaru's eyes flickered, and a thin serpent shot like a whip from his sleeve, its venomous fangs aiming straight for Itachi's nape.

But the snake halted mid-air—frozen by a single, unblinking gaze.

Itachi had turned, and with him, came the hypnotic power of the Sharingan.

Time itself seemed to slow. Orochimaru's muscles locked. His pupils dilated.

That suffocating pressure—the paralyzing clarity of Itachi's Mangekyō—flooded his mind again, just like all those years ago.

"You still think you can surpass me?" Itachi's voice was quiet, but it cut like steel. "Before this Sharingan, you're helpless. Always have been."

Orochimaru's lips twisted in humiliation. First Danzo. Now Itachi again.

Always this cursed eye.

The genjutsu broke after a few breathless seconds. Itachi turned and walked away, disappearing into the forest like a fading nightmare.

Orochimaru remained still, drenched in cold sweat. Not from fear—but exhilaration.

From the darkness behind him, the Masked Man reappeared. His voice was tinged with mild reproach.

"Orochimaru. Provoking Uchiha Itachi is unwise."

"Heh… I was only confirming the extent of his Sharingan," Orochimaru replied, his eyes glinting. "Fascinating as ever. Terrifying, yes—but fascinating."

The Masked Man ignored the commentary. "How is the Edo Tensei progressing?"

"Almost ready," Orochimaru answered, recomposing himself. "But I'll need more support."

"You require corpses?"

"Specimens," Orochimaru corrected with a soft smile. "Rare ones. And only someone with your... mobility and reach can procure them."

"Simple enough," the Masked Man replied. "I'll handle it."

To him, grave-robbing and infiltration were effortless. While the world watched the skies and summoned armies, he would slip through their defenses like a shadow.

"You're quite the efficient collaborator, Lord Madara," Orochimaru said, voice almost sincere. "Oh, and... one more thing."

The Masked Man tilted his head slightly. "Another request?"

"Yes," Orochimaru's smile widened, like a wolf baring its teeth. "Bring me Uchiha Sasuke."

The Masked Man paused—then gave a faint nod. "Consider it done."

There was no obligation anymore to honor Itachi's prior demands. And Sasuke, still a child, was more liability than threat.

But to Orochimaru, this meant far more.

The Masked Man's willingness to offer Sasuke so easily—that was the real experiment. That was proof.

Proof that Gen's Mangekyō didn't fully dominate his thoughts.

If Danzo had been subtly steered toward control and tyranny, the Masked Man was being nudged differently. Orochimaru now saw the pattern—not full mind control, but subconscious suggestion. Not a puppet, but a magnetized compass slowly rotating under invisible force.

Orochimaru's gaze turned upward, to the stars.

Uchiha Gen... just what kind of person have you become?

Even Orochimaru couldn't tell whether Gen's will was truly working through others—or simply creating ripples in the ocean of their thoughts.

And yet...

"I want to meet you, Uchiha Gen," Orochimaru whispered to the night. "Face to face."

He chuckled, low and serpentine.

"This game... is just beginning."