Fugaku in Existential Crisis
What came next was Uchiha Fugaku personally experiencing the effects of the genjutsu game.
He launched it directly in the training room without summoning anyone else to observe or supervise—an unmistakable show of trust and support for Uchiha Kei.
Say what you will, even if their cooperation was rooted in mutual benefit, Kei couldn't help but feel genuinely moved by Fugaku's boldness and trust.
Honestly, given Uchiha Fugaku's personality and style, tragedy was bound to strike if he clashed with Konoha's old guard. But if he had befriended someone like Minato Namikaze, the Uchiha clan might have truly found a way out of their plight.
In the original Naruto series, Uchiha Fugaku indeed sought to follow Minato's path. Sadly, he was ultimately betrayed by one of the clan's most infamous turncoats—Obito Uchiha. Not only did Obito dump a steaming pile of blame on the Uchiha clan, but his actions also led to Minato's death, dragging the entire clan into ruin.
Honestly... let's blame the author for writing tragedies on purpose. *\\[Tragedy.jpg]*
Once inside the genjutsu game, Fugaku, much like Minato before him, was completely caught off guard by the haunting visuals.
Though he kept a straight face, trying to look serious and composed, when a female ghost crept up and whispered by his ear—his Sharingan popped open on reflex.
Clearly, despite that calm exterior, the man was completely terrified.
Truthfully, Fugaku's mental fortitude wasn't bad—in some ways, it might have even surpassed Minato's. At the very least, when it came to stoic endurance, Minato couldn't hold a candle to him.
Sure, it looked embarrassing... but sometimes, true strength lies in being able to endure.
Right now, even though his heart was pounding and his Sharingan was spinning in alarm—if you only looked at his face, Fugaku appeared completely unfazed, like a mountain in the middle of a storm.
With such composure, it's no wonder the entire Uchiha clan was bluffed into believing he was the alpha of all alphas—the natural-born ruler of the Uchiha.
Honestly, if Kei hadn't known the truth, he would've started admiring Fugaku for having such terrifying willpower. The guy looked destined to be a legendary warlord.
But unfortunately, clearing the game required real courage—Fugaku still had to continue on his own.
And truth be told, they hadn't even reached the three-way fork yet, and Fugaku already looked like he wanted to quit.
He was seeing ghosts for real.
Kei had repeatedly warned him the game was realistic, even said there'd be yokai from old folklore—but he hadn't mentioned it'd be this terrifying!
Before the game: calm and collected, thinking folk tales were nothing to fear.
During the game: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! WHY IS THIS SO SCARY?! I WANT TO GO HOME!!!
That about summed up Fugaku's emotional journey. When he finally reached the three-path fork and saw the three ominously colored roads, he seriously considered turning back.
This brand-new kind of experience maxed out the fear of the unknown—and was close to leaving a psychological scar.
Frankly, Fugaku really wanted to turn to Kei and say, "Let's call it a day. The genjutsu test was a success. We can stop now."
But... he was the clan head. If he backed out now, the image of himself in Kei's mind would collapse—and that was absolutely unacceptable.
So in the end, Fugaku forced himself to keep going, telling himself over and over: "It's all fake. Just get through it." Basically, self-hypnosis.
Classic example of dying for pride.
From Kei's godlike vantage point, it was like watching a streamer from his past life play a horror game. Some streamers, despite being scared out of their minds, had to power through for the viewers—leading to countless hilarious clips and iconic moments.
Like, "My cabinet just moved—I'm done!"
If the spiritual network could be expanded, this kind of business might really take off. But for now, it wasn't feasible. The system only allowed for basic single-player games.
To bring his game ideas to life, Kei would need the system to drop more golden spirit points.
Meanwhile, in the genjutsu game, Fugaku picked a path and moved forward.
Unlike Minato, he chose the red path—the one symbolizing combat and bloodshed. ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝~𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖~𝕟𝕖𝕥
Maybe he chose it because the Uchiha's Sharingan is red.
Not that it really mattered. All three paths had to be cleared before moving on to the next stage. The only question was whether Fugaku, like Minato, would get addicted to the combat high and stay stuck in the red zone.
Entering the red domain, with crimson tinting everything in sight, Fugaku felt a chill run down his spine. Despite being mentally prepared from earlier, the experience still felt overwhelmingly intense.
But the thing that shocked him most wasn't the vivid realism—it was the fact that he couldn't dispel the illusion at all.
That's what truly terrified him.
You see, the Sharingan isn't just great for casting genjutsu—it's supposed to be able to see through them, especially once you've awakened the three-tomoe form.
As clan head, Fugaku's Sharingan wasn't just any three-tomoe—it was elite. Breaking illusions should've been child's play.
Yet now, the same eyes that had never failed him were utterly useless. It was as if even his Sharingan had been absorbed into the illusion and become part of it.
It made no sense. It flipped everything he thought he knew.
He honestly wanted to grab Kei and yell, "Are you sure that's a one-tomoe Sharingan and not a disguised Mangekyō Sharingan?!"
Yes—Fugaku was seriously starting to believe that Kei's eye was secretly the legendary Mangekyō Sharingan.
After all, only illusions cast by the Mangekyō could render even a powerful three-tomoe user completely helpless.