All Of The Worlds Will Be Mine

To the average eye, the man approaching them looked utterly unremarkable.

He wore a plain, monk-like robe that fluttered lightly in the breeze. His expression was neutral, his posture humble. Perhaps only his eyes—cold, detached, and piercing—hinted at something unusual. But even that could be explained away. Perhaps he was a wanderer. Perhaps he was just another lost soul passing through.

To an ordinary person, there was nothing threatening about him.

But Renji Uzumaki was no ordinary person.

As a high-ranking ninja of the Uzumaki clan and one of the few masters of the Kagura Eyes, his perception extended far beyond the visual. He could feel chakra like others could feel warmth. Even the faintest signature of life had a unique presence. A rhythm. A pulse.

But this man—

This man was a void.

Renji narrowed his eyes, trying to focus, to scan, to sense something—anything. But all he got was… silence.

Nothing… No chakra at all.

It was like looking into a black hole.

If the stranger had overwhelming chakra, that would have been fine. Renji could prepare. If he had abnormal chakra flow, that was manageable too. But this was complete emptiness. Blankness.

It chilled him to the core.

"Sir… This is Uzumaki Village," Renji said cautiously, voice tight with tension. "Do you need something?"

The man did not answer.

Instead, his head tilted slightly as his cold golden eyes drifted from Renji… to the boy behind him.

"Is that your son?" the stranger asked.

Renji hesitated.

Every instinct screamed don't answer—but something deeper, something more cautious, warned him that antagonizing this man could lead to disaster. So he took a breath and nodded.

"…Yes, sir."

Behind him, Elric had just bounded back toward his father, unaware of the looming threat.

Then the stranger spoke again.

"I want to buy him."

Renji blinked.

"…What?"

"Fifty billion ryo. Or sixty. Name your price."

Renji's mouth opened, then shut again. For a full second, his brain refused to process what he'd heard.

"Are… are you joking, sir?"

His voice was louder this time. Sharper. There was anger rising beneath the confusion now.

The man didn't flinch.

"So, I take your answer is no," he said flatly.

His voice carried no disappointment, no frustration. Just a dead calm.

Renji's fists clenched. "There's no need to talk any further then, Mister. I don't know who you are, but—"

Suddenly, he stopped.

His throat seized up.

His chest locked.

He gasped—then coughed. Violently.

A metallic taste filled his mouth.

He dropped to one knee, hands trembling as he brought them to his lips—and saw blood.

"Wha—"

His body shuddered as pain erupted across his torso. In multiple places.

He looked down.

Six black rods had pierced him clean through—each one impaling a vital point with surgical precision.

They had come out of nowhere.

His blood spilled freely now, soaking into the grass, dyeing it a deep crimson.

His vision blurred.

Darkness crept in from the edges.

He turned his head with what little strength remained—to look at the man.

The stranger had not moved.

Still standing in the same spot. Still staring. Still emotionless, but eyes change from the previous black to a yellow stripe.

Behind him, Elric's face had turned ghostly pale, eyes wide with terror.

"D… Dad…?"

No... not now. Stay awake!

Renji clenched his fists. Blood dripped from his mouth. His legs gave way. He crashed to the ground.

I didn't even see the attack… When? How?!

It was too fast.

He hadn't even felt the chakra.

Because there hadn't been any.

It wasn't a normal jutsu.

It was something else.

Something far beyond the shinobi world.

Isshiki Ōtsutsuki stood still, his robes fluttering ever so slightly in the wind.

His face betrayed no emotion.

But inside, he was satisfied.

 he may be proud, but he is not a fool.

He had lived too long, seen too much, to believe in things like "honor" or "fair fights."

Especially now.

He had one goal: the red-haired child.

And now, the only obstacle in his way—the strongest one present—lay dying in a pool of his own blood.

The six rods he had launched—crafted with his own yin yang elese, and lauch by his Dōjutsu from his dimension, in an instant—had done their job. It had taken a toll on his vessel, already deteriorating from time and stress, but it didn't matter.

He felt a faint tremor in his arm. A crackle of decay ran up his fingers.

But he didn't care.

He looked at the boy again.

This child… this perfect vessel…

Even from a distance, Isshiki could feel it. That absurd vitality. That boundless chakra. That legacy buried deep in his flesh.

With this body… I will rise again.

His deadened gaze fixed on Elric.

The boy was frozen in place.

Still pale.

Still trembling.

Isshiki took one step forward.

Then another.

His hand began to rise slowly—toward the boy's chest.

Toward the heart that would soon be his.

And just as his fingertips reached out—

The boy whispered something.

"...Dad?"

Isshiki paused.

The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

Not joy. Not cruelty.

But satisfaction.

Yes. That's right. Watch.

This is the moment your old world ends.