Just as Madara Uchiha wished the earth would open up and swallow him whole—or that he could launch a spacecraft and escape the Shinobi World, blasting those punks still awkwardly hyping him as Konoha's "Dance King" into oblivion—the game saved him.

Yes, the match had started.

At that crucial moment, Madara was genuinely moved.

He had never felt the game's battle-start countdown sound so heavenly or so beautifully timed.

Because finally, those four loudmouths who kept praising him had shut up. One of them tossed out, "Watch closely when the game starts! Witness Lord Radama's dance on the battlefield!"—and then focused on prepping for the fight.

The girl named Muzi beamed and cheerily called out, "Well then, senpai, I'll see you on the battlefield!"

"..." Madara fell silent. He had no idea how to deal with this girl who reminded him so much of that damn Hashirama. In the end, he could only snort coldly and say nothing.

If Uchiha Kei had been here, he definitely would've roasted him: "You're a grumpy old man and you're acting tsundere now?"

A curtain of light fell. Everyone in the area was teleported.

When the players came to, they found themselves on high ground—a military fortress styled after the Shinobi World. Solid defenses, commanding view.

Inside the command room was an NPC—a veteran jōnin and the only NPC in this match. The defending players had to protect him. If he died, they'd lose.

This match was a fortress defense mode. Madara's team were the defenders. The enemy had 20 minutes to attack. If they didn't take down the commander in time, the defenders would win.

It was straightforward: survive 20 minutes—win. Lose the commander—lose.

Other conditions could also end the match: if reinforcements ran out, or one side surrendered.

Rules appeared in front of each player, clearly showing what it would take to win.

Being on the attacking side meant climbing a fortified high ground—always a disadvantage in war. But this was a game.

And the game aimed for balance. So, in most cases, attackers actually had more tools, more interactive objects, and better equipment.

Sure enough, the defenders had only traditional ninja weapons. Nothing special.

But the attackers? They had cannons—yes, chakra cannons—set up on the battlefield, sparking amazement from the players.

In theory, the Shinobi World had cannons in some lands, but they were weak—more 16th-century bronze artillery than anything truly threatening to a shinobi.

So, typically, only merchants or regional lords bothered installing them.

Chakra cannons had been hypothesized before, but no one had made a working model. Still, in this game, there it was. Unrealistic, but dazzling.

Of course, in the future, Kumogakure really *would* develop a chakra cannon that, allegedly, could blast the moon apart.

Whether that was actually possible was... questionable. The cannon had to drain the Eight-Tails' chakra to work. And without a proper combat record, those claims remained pure hype from the Cloud.

Everyone knew the so-called Neon crowd loved exaggerating. Like how Sarutobi's clan had the nerve to call themselves a "Sarutobi Corps."

Same vibes as nonsense like 'Empire's Dragon of Destruction' or 'Savage Tiger of Doom'—pure chunibyo energy.

Still, even if overblown, the fact that Kumogakure used it in canon proved it had bite.

Kei's in-game chakra cannon was a miniature version—less firepower, more for breaking fort walls and barriers.

Still deadly. But that wasn't its main role.

What was clear was this: gameplay was evolving. Environmental destruction was now part of it.

Add destructible terrain, and you add chaos. More strategy. More drama.

There were even controllable puppets—flying or land-based—players could use.

And this was just one map. Kei had added different features to each one. This was a full-scale overhaul.

He used the network to push this update—calling it *Ultimate Storm 2.0.*

This was a trial: could emotional engagement be harvested again in the same game, just with new content?

Answer: yes.

Players who had already drained their emotional investment returned—hooked again.

The system validated it. As long as new content kept coming, it would re-flag the game for emotion-based rewards.

But the update had to be big. Kei tested a smaller patch for *Left 4 Shinobi*—adding only a few weapons and tools. Players liked it, but the system didn't count it.

Kei had cracked the code: real updates needed new maps, characters, or mechanics. Just extra items wouldn't cut it.

This time, *Ultimate Storm* had all three. The system approved. Emotion-grind mode reactivated.

And the players? Even knowing Kei was manipulating them for emotion harvesting—they loved it.

Because it was free. Free fun. Free upgrades. And only gamers knew how good that felt.

The reaction? Overwhelming. Players shouted their joy.

When the news spread, those still hesitant to buy the genjutsu-network pass would break and finally commit.

Even if setting it up cost money, if Kei kept delivering free content post-release, it'd be worth every ryo.

But that was for later.

Right now, everyone was too busy enjoying the new online play.

On the battlefield, Madara stood atop the highest point of the fortress—arms crossed, eyes sharp, posture divine.

He looked down at the enemy assembling at the base of the hill. They had all kinds of weapons. Clearly, the fight was about to begin.

To Madara, this wasn't even a warm-up. Yet, his blood began to boil.

This scene… it stirred memories.

Back in the Warring States era, he had led the Uchiha into countless battles. What he saw now mirrored those days.

His followers stood below. He stood above—godlike.

Back then, his brother had always been beside him.

Now, he stood alone.

Later peace with the Senju? Fighting beside Hashirama? That came later.

Those days were gone. Now, he was just a lone reaper in the Shinobi World.

But then—someone patted his shoulder.

"Senpai! There you are! I was wondering why I couldn't find you. But wow, the view up here is amazing!"

Madara flinched.

Muzi had arrived—smiling, bouncing, squinting at the distance through her hand like a human periscope.

"Whoa—what are those down there? Are those their weapons? Oh! There's a label… Chakra Cannon?! Feed it chakra to launch powerful shots? That's crazy!"

"Is the Shinobi World really that advanced now?!"

Her innocent awe shattered Madara's aura like a rock to glass.

Gone was the cool. Gone was the composure. His inner 'cool guy moment' had been thoroughly interrupted.

And her ditzy tone—so reminiscent of someone else—made Madara's eye twitch.

All his pent-up frustration boiled over.

"You IDIOT! That's clearly an in-game item! Where in the Shinobi World would you find something like this?! Chakra Cannons don't exist yet—they're still theoretical! Don't go treating everything in a game like it's real, you moron!"

He paused. Realizing he had lost control.

This wasn't him. The stoic, terrifying Madara would never yell like that. He hadn't done this since his days bickering with Hashirama.

He inhaled deeply, about to smooth things over—

But Muzi's reaction hit harder.

She froze, then looked like she might cry. Finally, she sank to the ground, hugging her knees in a ball of pure depression.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just a stupid idiot… I don't know anything… I'm really, really sorry…"

Madara froze. Eyes wide. His mind reeled.

Because in that moment—Muzi overlapped perfectly with the image of Hashirama in his mind.

Same energy. Same mood. Same guilt trip.

He wanted to deny it. But it was impossible to ignore.

She really was like a reincarnation of that idiot.

He clenched his fists. Lips tight.

"Hey… little girl. You're Muzi, right?"

Muzi peeked up, only to spiral further into despair.

"Even my name's not worth remembering… I'm such a hopeless idiot…"

Madara's fist trembled.

"Quit embarrassing yourself already, you fool! Get up! The battle's about to begin!"

Muzi flinched, then softly stood up, black aura gone.

She brightened almost instantly. Eyes sparkling with renewed energy.

"Okay! Let's do this together, senpai!"

Madara flinched again.

That voice—it echoed a memory.

"Let's go, Madara!"

Hashirama's words.

No. No, he had to separate them. Hashirama was dead. Muzi wasn't him. Don't mix them up.

Even as he warned himself internally… he didn't correct her.

Instead, Madara threw his gaze down at the enemy lines.

"If you can keep up—then follow. If not, stay out of the way."

And with that, he leapt.

Muzi followed with a grin.

Their stats were normalized to jōnin level, so even with Madara's speed, she wasn't far behind.

He snorted—but didn't shake her off.

Their charge stunned the other players.

This was a defense match. Why were they charging downhill against better-equipped enemies? That was suicide.

Just then, someone discovered the team chat feature. Text and voice commands could now be broadcast to everyone on your side.

Strategic discussion began immediately.

Most were Shinobi, so this form of real-time group comms excited them. If this could be applied to real battle… the Hidden Leaf would become even more powerful.

But just as planning began—Madara and Muzi broke formation and charged.

Everyone panicked.

"What are they doing?!"

"This is reckless! Are they trying to get us all killed?!"

Others were outraged.

In real war, this kind of behavior would doom an entire unit.

Of course, they didn't know who Madara was.

Some thought 'Konoha's Dance King' was just a joke. Strong maybe—but not god-tier.

Besides, the game's stat system balanced everyone.

No matter how good you were in PvP, this was different. This was a 36-player war mode—with revives.

How far could one 'Dance King' go?

Still, the four fanboys from the village arcade stared in awe.

"He's incredible! Lord Radama is leading the charge!"

"In a defense match—he dares go on the offensive! That's the true weight of the title!"

"I can't take it anymore—I'm following him!"

"Right?! Even that girl is going! We can't lose to her!"

"CHAAAAARGE!"

The four of them howled and bolted downhill.

Others were furious.

"This isn't a game to them—it's a joke!"

Their morale plummeted.

Some even considered surrendering.

Thankfully, a few 'pep talk pros' stepped in to rally the team.

"It's only the first match," they said. "There's still plenty to learn. The enemy's probably just as confused."

Sure, they had a few reckless players. But that didn't mean all was lost.

Besides, if those lunatics got wrecked… maybe they'd learn their lesson and come back to help.

With that, the defense side began organizing. Spreading out, taking positions.

Meanwhile, at the base of the hill, the attackers were testing chakra cannons and gear—prepping their push.

But before they could begin… Madara landed.

Without a word, he struck the nearest enemy—a real-world special jōnin.

This guy was no slouch. But no one expected a defender to rush the hill.

Madara's ambush was flawless.

In a brutal flash—it began.

The Dance King's true performance.

The rose of the battlefield was about to bloom.