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Itachi and Orochimaru remained where they were, motionless.
For Itachi, the masked man could leave, but he couldn't.
He hadn't yet fulfilled the promise he made to Konoha.
Naturally, Konoha wouldn't uphold their end of the agreement until he did.
So, he couldn't leave—at least, not yet.
As for Orochimaru, he was merely a spectator.
He was confident that if he wanted to leave, no one could stop him.
But with Itachi and Uchiha Haru—two of the most formidable Uchiha geniuses—locked in a life-and-death battle, how could he bear to miss the show?
The masked man looked from Orochimaru to Itachi.
He could more or less guess why Orochimaru hadn't left. He didn't care.
But Itachi… his organization was recruiting, preparing for something big.
A ninja as powerful as Uchiha Itachi was exactly the kind of asset he needed.
He wasn't willing to give up a potential ally that strong.
But the situation wasn't ideal.
Itachi clearly had no intention of leaving.
And he wasn't about to start a fight with someone like Uchiha Haru just to bring Itachi back.
Especially not now—when Konoha's forces were surrounding the area.
No matter the outcome, whether victory or defeat, the cost would be too high.
Konoha would surely swoop in to clean up the mess.
Just as Itachi had always been wary of him—he, too, remained wary of Konoha.
Especially of Danzo.
Their relationship was purely transactional—mutually beneficial but completely devoid of trust.
So, the masked man made his decision swiftly.
Since Itachi refused to come, he would withdraw.
It was unfortunate to give up on such a powerful ninja, but Itachi wasn't the only candidate in the world.
He couldn't afford to gamble too much on one man.
A vortex of spiraling space opened up beside him.
The masked man's body began fading rapidly into the swirl.
But just then, in the firelit darkness, more figures began to emerge.
They wore black uniforms, similar to Konoha's ANBU—but their masks were more grotesque, eerie.
Root.
Konoha's secret foundation—Danzo's private army.
In the blink of an eye, dozens upon dozens of these Root operatives poured in from the shadows. From a distance, they looked endless, a tightly packed formation.
There had to be nearly a hundred of them, and they surrounded Uchiha Haru in the center.
At the rear of the formation, Danzo emerged slowly from the gloom.
The masked man, whose body had nearly vanished into Kamui, paused and remained.
His eyes narrowed as he stared coldly at Danzo, clearly still displeased by the elder's decision to sit back and watch until now.
Uchiha Haru smirked as he watched them.
Again?
In the last simulated battle, he'd been forced into retreat by the combined efforts of nearly a hundred Root operatives, the masked man, Itachi, and Danzo.
And now the same thing?
No variety?
Still—he had to admit—it was effective.
An ordinary Root ninja might not be threatening.
But nearly a hundred of them, attacking in unison? That was something else.
Even Haru felt the immense pressure bearing down on him.
Danzo gave the signal without hesitation.
Immediately, all the Root ninjas launched their coordinated assault.
"Water Style: Water Dragon Bullet!"
"Earth Style: Earth Flow Spears!"
"Lightning Style: Thunderball Jutsu!"
In an instant, nearly a hundred elemental jutsu erupted simultaneously.
Flames, lightning, water, earth, wind—all of it launched in a synchronized bombardment at Uchiha Haru.
Individually, none of these techniques were remarkable.
But together—they became a force of destruction.
The sight was spectacular from afar, like a storm of chakra tearing through the night.
Uchiha Haru stood still, hands clasped behind his back.
The glow of fire danced across his sharp features, casting flickering shadows on his face.
The wind tugged at his clothes and blew a stray lock of hair across his forehead.
Not even a ripple of emotion crossed his face.
Let the world collapse—he would remain unmoved.
Even if this weren't a simulation—even if this were reality—no matter how dire the situation, not even the slightest fear would touch his heart.
With his current strength, if he wanted to escape, no one here could stop him.
But he stayed.
He stayed for the Uchiha Clan's massacre.
He stayed to face Uchiha Itachi, Orochimaru, and the masked man.
He stayed for Danzo and his secret army, watching from the shadows like a venomous snake.
Because this was his forge.
This was where he would refine his power in the heat of life-and-death battle.
Rather than scrambling to survive on the night of the massacre, he would prepare—here and now.
As nearly a hundred jutsu rained down on him, Haru's expression remained calm.
He began forming hand seals.
"Wood Style: Wood Dragon Jutsu!"
From beneath his feet, an enormous tree burst from the earth.
It expanded rapidly, growing at a speed visible to the naked eye.
A moment later, it took shape—a colossal dragon of living wood, towering nearly a hundred meters high, its form rippling with power.
The dragon coiled protectively around Haru, snarling with ancient might.
"Th-That's…!"
"The Wood Style of the First Hokage!"
"When did the Uchiha… master Wood Style?!"
Even Danzo couldn't suppress the shock in his voice.
Wood Style.
The bloodline of Senju Hashirama—the legendary First Hokage and God of Shinobi.
For decades, Danzo had experimented in secret, pouring time and resources into unlocking the mysteries of Wood Style.
All he'd achieved were pitiful fragments—far from the power wielded by Hashirama.
And yet, now he was witnessing it—flawless, majestic—cast by a Uchiha.
By this Uchiha.
Uchiha Haru performed it with ease—unfathomable power emanating from his frame.
The initial shock in Danzo's expression gave way to something darker.
Greed.
"Possesses the Mangekyō Sharingan… and Wood Style…"
"Uchiha Haru… this boy is a treasure."
Danzo narrowed his eyes and gave an order to the two Root operatives flanking him.
"Go. Capture him. Bring me the body—alive or dead."
The two shinobi nodded without a word and vanished into the shadows.
On the other side of the battlefield, Orochimaru's golden eyes glinted coldly.
He'd long since marked Uchiha Haru as his personal target.
Mangekyō Sharingan. Wood Style. That beautiful, perfect body.
Excellent.
Marvelous.
A vessel like this—he could surpass every limit he'd ever known.
But not yet.
His instincts screamed that Haru wouldn't fall here.
The time wasn't right.
And far away, beneath his mask, Uchiha Itachi's expression darkened with a strange mix of awe and loneliness.
He'd once thought Haru was merely on par with him.
But now—after watching him unleash power after power…
Izanagi. Wood Style. Impossibly deep chakra reserves…
It was overwhelming.
Uchiha Itachi, once hailed as a prodigy of the Uchiha clan and all of Konoha…
The one everyone else tried to chase…
Now, he was the one struggling to catch up.
The masked man, too, remained silent.
But behind that spiral-patterned mask, thoughts churned.
He wasn't just surprised.
He was impressed.
If someone like Uchiha Haru could be recruited—turned into an ally…
It would be a tremendous gain.
Back on the battlefield, the wooden dragon coiled into the air, its vast body shielding Haru from the storm of elemental ninjutsu.
The Root ninjas' attacks slammed into the dragon in waves.
Boom!
Boom!
Shockwaves thundered across the battlefield. Flames and lightning burst against wood reinforced by nature chakra.
The sky filled with smoke and fire.
And at the center of it all—untouched, unmoving—stood Uchiha Haru.
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