Chapter 62: Chapter 62: Itachi vs Zeldris
As Zeldris’s words echoed, Uchiha Itachi blinked—just once—but in that single blink was an entire internal monologue of suspicion.
This man... something about him didn’t sit right.
Zeldris, the supposed "partner" of that masked lunatic pretending to be Madara Uchiha, now stood in front of him talking like they were old friends—or business associates.
Itachi wasn’t here just to halt the Uchiha coup. No, he had accepted the mission for a second, far more personal reason:
To investigate the mysterious masked man.
The moment he met the so-called Madara, red flags popped up faster than Konoha’s budget reports after a disaster.
The guy didn’t act like Madara. He didn’t fight like Madara. Heck, he didn’t even monologue like Madara.
So, Itachi had joined their organization, hoping to gather intel and uncover the masked man’s true identity.
Now here stood Zeldris—confident, calm, mysterious—saying things he probably shouldn’t know.
Itachi narrowed his eyes.
"...Why are you telling me this?" he asked quietly.
"What’s your angle?"
Zeldris tilted his head slightly, like a bored noble amused by a peasant’s question.
"Well," he said,
"While the paycheck for this job was... generous, let’s just say I had other motivations."
He let the words hang in the air like a punchline with no joke.
"...I’m here to recruit you, Itachi. To my organization."
Itachi stared.
A pause.
A longer pause.
"...Excuse me?"
This guy... thinks I’m an actual traitor? Really?
He almost laughed—but Itachi didn’t laugh. Ever.
"I’ll have to decline," he said flatly.
"I’m not interested in playing along with your side project."
He didn’t bother explaining the part where he was planning to take Zeldris down as soon as the masked man arrived. That was just good manners.
In fact, Danzo was supposed to do this job already. But that fossil ran away with his tail tucked between his bandaged legs. Disappointing.
Still, the mission was simple now: stall Zeldris, wait for the masked man to arrive, and wrap this up.
"But,"
Itachi said after a moment, stepping forward and reaching for the hilt of his blade,
"I am interested in seeing just how strong you really are."
Sharingan. Activated.
Zeldris blinked as the red glow flared in Itachi’s eyes.
"Oho?"
Zeldris raised an eyebrow, still smiling.
"That wasn’t very polite. I was hoping for a nice little chat."
His eyes shifted—not red but a strange, soft purple. Dim, eerie, unnatural.
Itachi felt a chill crawl up his spine.
...What the hell is that?
He didn’t wait to ask. His chakra surged silently.
Genjutsu: activated.
An invisible wave rushed toward Zeldris. Within seconds, Zeldris’s body went still. Not a twitch. Not a blink.
Got him.
Itachi took a slow step forward, hand on his sword. His voice was cold, calm, clinical.
"Forgive me. We have no personal grudge, but your presence is... a variable Konoha cannot afford."
He unsheathed the blade with a soft shing.
"Farewell."
But then—Zeldris smiled.
A wide, slow, knowing smile.
Uh-oh.
Itachi instantly jumped back.
That smile... I don’t like that smile.
Zeldris chuckled softly.
"Oh, Itachi," he said, amused.
"When exactly... did you think you had me under your illusion?"
Itachi froze.
Wait... what?
No. No, this wasn’t possible. His genjutsu never failed. Not unless the enemy had...
No.
Not even Kisame could shrug off his illusions—and that guy was practically a chakra tank.
He stared at Zeldris’s purple glowing eyes—eyes that looked back at him with calm condescension.
"Your Sharingan’s neat,"
Zeldris said casually, walking forward like they were on a stroll.
"But against my eyes?"
He stopped a few feet away.
"They don’t do anything."
He raised one hand, then dramatically pointed to his face.
"These beauties?"
"They grant me one very fun little perk."
Zeldris smirked.
"Complete. Illusion. Immunity."
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