Clad in the traditional black robes of the Uchiha Clan, a samurai sword strapped to his back, the figure stood silently. His long black hair was loosely tied up, and a mask—identical to those worn by Konoha's Anbu—obscured his face.
Even though his face was hidden, Haru instantly recognized the figure below his window.
After all, there were only two individuals who had participated in the Uchiha Clan Massacre.
One was the masked man—Uchiha Obito—disguised as Madara.
The other was Uchiha Itachi.
And the masked man never wore an Anbu mask. That left only one possibility.
A Kage-level shinobi who had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan.
Haru had long wanted to gauge the true distance between himself and a genuine Kage-level powerhouse. Especially now that he possessed the legendary Otsutsuki physique. But he had always intended to be the one to initiate that confrontation, not stumble into it .
The timing was too sudden.
Still, now that it had happened, Haru wasn't afraid.
There was no escaping it. The battle would come eventually.
Might as well get a preview of Uchiha Itachi's strength now.
But just as Haru prepared to make his move and leap into combat, the world around him turned blood red.
Even the moon overhead took on a crimson hue.
In the blink of an eye, Itachi—who had been standing a short distance away—was now right in front of him. Katana in hand. Eyes cold, merciless.
Haru was strapped to a massive cross, his body frozen in place.
Only those with the Mangekyō Sharingan could cast it—a mental genjutsu of devastating power.
The illusion dragged the target into a separate mental realm, where the caster could control every detail—time, environment, even the flow of agony.
Haru had no power to resist. The Otsutsuki physique was helpless here.
As a transmigrator, Haru understood just how dangerous Tsukuyomi truly was.
If this had been an ordinary genjutsu, he could have broken it—either through chakra disruption or another countermeasure.
But this was Tsukuyomi.
Inside its realm, time held no meaning. What lasted a second in the real world could feel like three days of unrelenting torment.
And every second of suffering was fed directly into the mind and soul—breaking the will, shattering the consciousness.
This was not just an illusion. This was psychological annihilation.
No wonder it was feared as one of the most powerful genjutsu in the entire Naruto world.
There might be people capable of breaking it.
But not Haru. Not now.
Trying to use a three-tomoe Sharingan to overcome a Mangekyō technique was a bad joke.
Before him, amidst an endless sea of blood, Uchiha Itachi stepped closer.
Each step brought more shadows. More copies of him split off and surrounded the cross.
Dozens of Itachis. Same katana. Same crimson Sharingan. Same indifferent gaze.
Then, without a word, they all stabbed downward.
As the floating system message blinked into existence, Haru was pulled out of the Tsukuyomi realm and returned to reality.
His brow was furrowed. His breath shallow.
Even after exiting the simulation, some subconscious part of him still trembled.
Tsukuyomi... and Uchiha Itachi... were on a different level.
Even against real Kage-level shinobi, Tsukuyomi could tilt the battlefield in an instant.
Haru wasn't even close to that yet.
It was an absolute and unyielding suppression. There was no resistance, no chance.
He had to admit, he was fortunate.
In the real timeline, Itachi had chosen to be decisive and clean with his clan's extermination. Otherwise, if he had used Tsukuyomi to mentally dismantle every Uchiha, the clan wouldn't have just died—they would've been utterly ruined.
Even though this had been only a simulation, the mental trauma was very real.
Death in the simulation wouldn't affect his body. But his mind? That was another matter.
The pain lingered in his psyche.
His senses could still recall the torment—the helplessness, the blood, the cold stares, the simultaneous piercing of dozens of swords.
Haru exhaled slowly and deeply to center himself.
No time to rest. The countdown to the Uchiha Massacre was ticking faster than ever.
He had to use every remaining second—every system run—to grow stronger.
Even if it meant pushing himself beyond what his nerves could handle.
"System, start simulation," he said in a low, steady voice.
The last batch of talents were all mediocre—nothing but blue and white-ranked skills.
And if he solidified one now, it would block future ability refreshes.
So Haru chose to begin immediately, skipping the selection phase for a better reroll next time.
[Uchiha Clan Extermination Night Simulation Begins]
[Current Solidified Ability: "Otsutsuki Physique" (Golden Ability): Grants ultra-high-speed regeneration, near-immortality under extreme conditions, the ability to absorb ninjutsu, and nearly infinite chakra reserves.]
[Also known as the "Immortal Body."]
[Current Selectable Ability: Taijutsu +100...]
The rest were similarly unimpressive—ten blue and white talents with negligible impact.
Haru glanced through them quickly, randomly selected a few, and confirmed the choices.
Following the system's prompt, he entered the simulation again.
A familiar room greeted him.
The same dim moonlight.
The same rustling wind.
Without hesitation, Haru opened the window and leapt out into the night.
His movements were sharp, refined—like a black panther in the dark.
He sprinted a few steps.
Then stopped abruptly.
A figure had appeared directly in front of him.
No sound. No warning.
Even with his three-tomoe Sharingan active, Haru hadn't sensed a thing until the moment the figure materialized.
Alarmed, he instinctively looked forward.
The same Uchiha robes. Katana on his back. Black hair tied casually.
Standing with arms crossed, his eyes gleamed crimson.
Inside the glowing red pupils, the tomoe rotated and merged—forming the three-pronged shape of the Mangekyō Sharingan.
In the next instant, the world shifted again.
A blood-red crescent moon.
Haru found himself crucified once more, bound and immobile.
Itachi walked toward him, blade in hand, gaze devoid of mercy.
"Damn it, Uchiha Itachi... do you have a personal vendetta against me or something?!"
Once might've been chance. Twice? That was pushing it.
Even Haru, usually composed and cold, couldn't help swearing under his breath.
But despite his frustration, he noticed something strange.
Something had changed...