[Hidden Lab – Southern Borderlands]
Thin trails of smoke drifted lazily upward, coiling into delicate spirals among dusty shelves and worn scrolls stacked haphazardly around the room. Kabuto leaned comfortably against a large bookshelf, cigarette pinched lightly between his fingers, his other hand casually leafing through the pages of an old, yellowed manuscript.
The silence stretched comfortably for a moment—until it was sharply interrupted by a loud snap as Sasuke closed the book he'd been reading. He looked pointedly at Kabuto, eyes narrowed in quiet annoyance.
"You know," Sasuke said dryly, "people generally don't smoke in libraries. Something about priceless books and burning embers."
Kabuto glanced up slowly, unfazed, the cigarette dangling loosely from his lips as he considered Sasuke with a mild smirk. "Funny—I didn't peg you for the bookworm type. But I guess when the old snake says 'jump,' you start reading."
Sasuke rolled his eyes slightly, leaning back in his chair with arms folded. "And I didn't peg you as the rebellious teenager sneaking smoke breaks where you shouldn't."
Kabuto exhaled smoke gently toward the ceiling, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "What can I say? Forbidden pleasures taste sweeter. Surely you'd agree."
Sasuke didn't dignify that with a response, instead arching an eyebrow and tilting his head toward the scroll in Kabuto's hand. "Find something interesting?"
Kabuto shook his head lightly, stubbing the cigarette on a nearby saucer he'd obviously repurposed as an ashtray. "Nothing new. Just ancient history—quite boring compared to recent events."
Sasuke glanced back at his own book, his eyes shadowed. "You're referring to a stir in Kumo?"
Kabuto gave a short, dismissive laugh, stepping closer and seating himself casually opposite Sasuke. "Kumo? No, they're predictable. You and your masked ANBU friend saw to that. I'm talking about the other village near the Leaf—the one called Tokai."
Sasuke looked up, genuinely puzzled. "What about it?"
Kabuto leaned forward slightly, his smile sharpening into something darker, amused yet vaguely troubled. "Word travels fast, Sasuke. I heard Hidden Leaf sent some shinobi to handle a minor riot there. I might've, uh…" he paused briefly, almost embarrassed, "nudged things along. You know how it goes."
Sasuke narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Define 'nudged.'"
Kabuto shrugged lightly, leaning back again. "A bit of misinformation here, a bit of provocation there. Just enough to raise some voices. Nothing that warranted the response they sent."
"And?" Sasuke prompted, sensing more beneath Kabuto's hesitation.
Kabuto's smile twisted wryly, half amused, half uncomfortable. "They didn't send regular shinobi. They sent an elite team—Kiba Inuzuka, Rock Lee, Kurenai—and your pink-haired classmate." He paused meaningfully, watching Sasuke carefully before continuing. "You know, the one with the sweet smile and homicidal tendencies."
Sasuke went rigid, eyes widening slightly in subtle disbelief. "Sakura?"
"Yeah," Kabuto said quietly, eyes glinting behind the lenses of his glasses. "Survivors I patched up after the fact said she was… enthusiastic. One called her the 'Scarlet Reaper,' of all things."
Sasuke was silent, gaze turning inward, troubled yet hesitant to show it. Kabuto took advantage of the moment, leaning in with teasing curiosity.
"Seriously though," Kabuto drawled lightly, "what the hell is wrong with that girlfriend of yours?"
Sasuke stared at him for a long moment, completely expressionless—then he surprised even himself by relaxing slightly, a faint smirk touching the corner of his lips. "She's not my girlfriend," he deadpanned. "Besides, you're one to talk. Two days ago you started a riot and forgot why."
Kabuto blinked, stunned at Sasuke's sudden and rare flash of humor, before he burst out into genuine laughter. "Did—did you just make a joke?" he asked incredulously, adjusting his glasses in disbelief. "The great Sasuke Uchiha, master of brooding silence, actually cracked a joke?"
Sasuke allowed himself a rare, small chuckle, glancing back down at his book. "Even I have my moments."
Kabuto leaned back, smiling genuinely now, shaking his head slowly. "You're becoming dangerously human, Sasuke. Next thing you know, you'll be sharing heartfelt wisdom."
"Unlikely," Sasuke replied dryly, though the faint smile remained, lingering longer than he intended.
Their laughter quieted gradually, leaving behind a comfortable silence, the atmosphere now less tense. Sasuke regarded Kabuto thoughtfully, curiosity slowly overcoming caution.
"Honestly though," he asked after a moment, eyes narrowing again, this time sincerely concerned. "What were you really trying to accomplish there?"
Kabuto shrugged, serious now. "Information gathering. Understanding the limits. Probing weaknesses. Same as you—just different methods."
"And did you learn anything useful?"
Kabuto met his gaze steadily, humor fading slightly. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I learned your friend isn't the only one capable of frightening brutality. Hidden Leaf's changed. Something deeper is shifting beneath the surface."
Before Sasuke could respond, the quiet click of footsteps echoed softly into the library. Both men turned instinctively toward the doorway, where Orochimaru stood quietly observing them with a faint, enigmatic smile.
"Changed indeed," Orochimaru said smoothly, stepping closer. "But it's not just Konoha. It's the entire shinobi world. And I believe it's time we discussed what comes next."
---
Orochimaru stepped into the room like a shadow slipping through paper, hands tucked into his sleeves, golden eyes gleaming under the low candlelight.
"You're both in the library," he said calmly, almost amused. "I expected to find you either poking around my lab or breaking each other's egos over dinner."
Kabuto leaned back in his chair with a relaxed smile, smoke curling up from the still-burning end of his cigarette. "We were discussing how Leaf solves riots with kusarigama ballet and chakra-infused overkill."
Orochimaru chuckled softly. "Yes. I heard about that. Quite the performance."
Sasuke watched him quietly, his easy mood from before now replaced by a still, probing focus. "You came here with a reason."
"I always do," Orochimaru said, gliding toward a nearby chair and lowering himself gracefully. "I've made a decision. It's time for me to go."
Kabuto's smile faded. "Go… where?"
"To a land called, The Land of Freedom"
Sasuke watched him quietly, his easy mood from before now replaced by a still, probing focus. "Where is that, exactly? The Land of Freedom. I've never seen it on any map."
Orochimaru's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Naturally. Maps are made by those who benefit from what's included—and more importantly, what's left out."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "So it's real?."
"Oh, very real," Orochimaru replied. "Far across the western sea, past the reaches of the Five Great Nations. A continent where chakra is an unknown myth, and technology—raw, ugly, beautiful machinery—reigns supreme. They build with pressure, steam, combustion. No jutsu, no bloodlines. Just invention."
Silence fell. Even Sasuke, unflappable as he usually was, tensed slightly.
"You're leaving the shinobi world?" he asked.
Orochimaru nodded slowly. "It's become too small for me. Cycles of war. The same philosophies disguised under different banners. Even Akatsuki is little more than a cult trying to reshape power through fear and illusion."
Kabuto frowned. "So you're running away?"
Orochimaru's eyes glinted. "No. I'm migrating. To a society that values advancement through intellect—not inheritance, not chakra lineage. The Land of Freedom doesn't worship bloodlines. They worship innovation."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "They don't even use chakra."
"Precisely," Orochimaru said, visibly pleased by the observation. "Which is why my work is… exotic to them. My research—dozens of treatises on chakra biology, energy manifestation, and sociopolitical manipulation of power through metaphysical doctrine—it's all being submitted as part of an academic fellowship."
Kabuto blinked. "So… you're going to school?"
Orochimaru gave a slight, elegant nod. "University to be exact. I applied for a professorial scholarship. I didn't even need to bribe anyone."
Sasuke's eyes narrowed with skepticism. "And they accepted you?"
Orochimaru nodded slowly, eyes glinting with self-satisfaction. "After a lengthy exchange through certain… channels of correspondence. A network I've cultivated over the years—foreign scholars, disillusioned traders, and one particularly enthusiastic engineer who once tried to reverse-engineer a chakra scalpel. I sent them a few research papers—well, several." Orochimaru smiled. "It turns out my paper on the long-term behavioral decay of shadow clones—especially when subjected to erotic transformation jutsu—was considered… bold."
Kabuto stared. "Wait. Was that…?"
"Yes," Orochimaru sighed. "The room you keep complaining about. The one that pulses."
Sasuke turned slowly toward Kabuto. "You told me it was something important."
Kabuto looked mildly horrified. "I-I thought it was a chakra experiment!"
"It was," Orochimaru said stiffly. "Initially. Then it evolved. For science."
Kabuto laughed, practically choking on his cigarette. "You made a shadow clone that—what, masturbates for weeks?"
Orochimaru frowned, clearly defensive now. "It was modeled after Tsunade. Perfect chakra feedback loop. I was testing resilience under hormonal saturation. Entirely valid."
Sasuke leaned forward, deadpan. "So you made a sex clone of the Fifth Hokage and locked it in a room."
"It's not locked. It's contained."
Kabuto leaned in toward Sasuke, barely containing laughter. "This is why some doors are better left closed."
Sasuke exhaled through his nose, almost—laughing. "No wonder the chakra signature was unstable. I thought it was some bio-weapon."
"It could be," Orochimaru muttered under his breath.
Kabuto wiped his eyes, still chuckling. "What else are you hiding back there? Chickens with Byakugan? Genjutsu-powered goats?"
Orochimaru, straightening his sleeves, responded coolly. "No. But I did once investigate the possibility of a goose that lays golden eggs."
Sasuke snorted, almost unable to contain his laughter while Kabuto fell over laughing.
Orochimaru sighed again, lifting a hand. "Enough. Laugh all you want. But as amusing as it is, not all my secrets are jokes."
He stood, that calm authority returning to his voice. "Come. There's one last thing I want to show you—something from my last visit to the Land of Freedom."
Sasuke and Kabuto exchanged a glance, the humor slowly fading into curiosity. They rose from their seats and followed as Orochimaru glided wordlessly out of the library and into the deeper chambers of his lair.
---
[Hidden Lab's Restricted Sector – Southern Borderlands]
The corridor descended gradually into the older part of the hideout—where walls were lined with thick pipes, rusted chains, and dust-laced lanterns powered by faint chakra seals. Orochimaru led them with quiet steps, his robe sweeping behind him like the whisper of ink over parchment.
Kabuto walked at his side, and Sasuke followed a few paces behind, eyes scanning the familiar shadows with practiced indifference—until Orochimaru suddenly stopped beside a sealed vault door.
He pressed his palm against a flat metal plate on the wall. With a subtle release of chakra, the lock clicked, hissed, and split open with a groan.
But instead of stepping through, Orochimaru turned.
"I imagine," he said smoothly, "you two still believe you've seen the world."
Kabuto blinked. "Compared to most? Probably."
Orochimaru gave a smile that was both knowing and disappointed. "And how many borders have you crossed, Kabuto?"
"Ten," Kabuto replied. "Give or take."
"Twenty-three for me," Sasuke said quietly.
Orochimaru raised an eyebrow. "And how many maps have you seen?"
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. "Enough."
"No," Orochimaru said calmly, stepping into the dimly lit chamber beyond. "You've seen the same map—twenty-three times. Reprinted. Revised. Sanitized."
Sasuke and Kabuto followed him in. The room was wider than expected—less a laboratory and more a study. In the center stood a single stone table, upon which lay an enormous, aged scroll. Carefully unrolled and pinned at each corner, it displayed a world map neither of them had seen before.
Sasuke stepped forward.
Kabuto let out a soft breath.
The map was… wrong.
Or rather, it was larger. Far larger. The Shinobi Nations—Fire, Wind, Earth, Lightning, and Water—were there, tucked together like puzzle pieces. But they only made up a fraction of the landmass. To the west: uncharted territories, sea routes. And beyond that—entire continents.
"This is fake," Kabuto said, though his voice lacked conviction.
Orochimaru didn't answer. Instead, he posed a question:
"Why," he asked, "does no academy teach you oceanic navigation?"
Sasuke frowned. "Because it's not useful. Most shinobi operate inland."
"Is that the reason?" Orochimaru replied, tone even. "Or is that the reason you were given?"
Kabuto leaned over the table, tracing one route westward. "The Land of Freedom. It's actually on here."
"It always has been," Orochimaru said. "In old records. Traveler logs. Banned cartography. You just have to know where to look."
Sasuke's voice was low. "So the Shinobi Nations… we're just one region?"
"A province, really," Orochimaru replied. "An influential one, yes. But not central. Not dominant. Just loud."
He tapped his finger to the western edge, just beyond the sea route. "This is the Land of Freedom. Industrial, steam-based civilization. They use machines to amplify human potential—no chakra, just applied energy and math. Their soldiers carry cannons the size of scrolls, and their cities breathe smog, not chakra."
He shifted his hand southward to a dense jungle continent etched with swirling runes. "This… is Aetheris. They don't use chakra. They use mana—a spiritual force not tied to the body, but to nature itself. Their people commune with elemental spirits, cast spells through harmonics, and alter reality by aligning with natural rhythms. In their world, power is a covenant."
Kabuto narrowed his eyes. "That sounds like a contradiction."
"To a chakra user, yes," Orochimaru said. "But to them, we are the unnatural ones. Our chakra is brute force to their song. They've once considered the Shinobi Nations a threat—not militarily, but philosophically."
Sasuke stared down at the map, absorbing the names: Aetheris, The Sable Dominion, Skydweller, and others written in forgotten calligraphy. "Why are none of these ever mentioned?"
"Because if people knew there were other ways to live—other ways to become powerful—they'd stop obeying," Orochimaru answered. "Imagine a shinobi child hearing there's a land where you don't need bloodline, clan, or chakra to matter. Where power comes from making something—not inheriting it. Entire governments would collapse."
Kabuto rubbed his chin, quiet now. "And the others?"
"There are more. Some civilizations built entirely on memory," Orochimaru said, pointing to a floating island chain with shifting borders. "These are the Skydwellers. They bind their power through ancestral pacts. Their leaders are chosen by who remembers their lineage best, not by strength. To them, the past is more alive than the present."
He moved again—this time north, to a twisted continent riddled with black veins and shifting boundaries. "And here… is the Sable Dominion. A parasitic society. Their power comes from bonding with organic entities—symbiotes, spirits, even thought-forms. Their people are hosts, and their strength fluctuates depending on what they've fused with. Some call it monstrous. Others… evolutionary."
Sasuke spoke without looking up. "So all this time, we've been blind."
"No," Orochimaru corrected softly. "You were made blind. The Shinobi system is built on carefully curated ignorance. Every scroll, every rule, every story you were taught… was selected to reinforce the cage."
Kabuto exhaled, hands on the edge of the table. "And what happens when the cage cracks?"
"Then the truth leaks in," Orochimaru said with a faint smile. "And the first to see it are always labeled madmen… or revolutionaries."
Sasuke's gaze sharpened. "Do they know about us?"
"Some do," Orochimaru nodded. "But to most of them, we are folklore. The 'chakra lands.' A place of bloodline sorcerers and eternal war. They don't fear us. They pity us."
"And you're going to them?" Kabuto asked.
"I'm already in" Orochimaru reminded, gesturing to a scroll tucked near the table. "I've been accepted—based on research, not rank. I will teach them what I know of chakra, and learn what they know of the world."
Sasuke looked at the map one last time. "So what now?"
"Now," Orochimaru said, stepping back, "I show you what I've brought back from my visit in the past."
---
Orochimaru walked toward a sealed cabinet and gently pressed his hand to a chakra lock. It clicked open with a hiss. Inside was a black, compact metal case—mundane in shape but sealed with a reverence that suggested danger.
He opened it.
Inside, wrapped in oiled cloth and fitted precisely, was a sleek, black M9 handgun. The shape was foreign—angular, weighted, built with functionality that seemed completely out of place among scrolls and kunai.
Kabuto peered over Orochimaru's shoulder. "That's… not a chakra weapon."
"Correct," Orochimaru replied. "This is called a handgun. Specifically, an M9—a sidearm commonly used in the Land of Freedom. It fires small, solid metal projectiles at high velocity through a contained explosion."
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. "It kills with force?"
Orochimaru smiled. "Yes. Direct kinetic damage. No chakra. No technique. Just physics. It solves… many problems." He glanced at Sasuke meaningfully. "Even a child could kill a jounin with it—provided their hand doesn't shake."
He held it up gently, as though it were some sacred relic.
"I had to trade six sealed scrolls and two rare summoning contracts to obtain this," he said, almost bitterly. "But it was worth it."
He turned toward them, tone shifting into something almost professorial.
"Let's say you're five years old," Orochimaru began, "and someone tells you they've made a tiny cannon small enough to fit in your hand. You'd laugh, yes? You'd ask—where's the chakra seal, the trigger formula, the nature alignment?"
He raised the handgun slowly.
"But there's none of that. Just this."
He pulled out a small metal magazine and a loose round. "This is the bullet. A slug of copper-jacketed lead, seated in a cartridge of propellant. When struck, it ignites, expanding gas inside the barrel—forcing the bullet out. The grooves inside the barrel spin the projectile for stability."
He demonstrated with deliberate clarity: sliding the magazine in, racking the slide, and engaging the safety.
"Pull the trigger, and a small controlled explosion propels the bullet at supersonic speeds. Simple as that. No chakra pathways. No hand seals. Just muscle."
Kabuto watched, fascinated. "So anyone can use it."
"Precisely," Orochimaru said. "Which is why they fear it. You don't need power or lineage to wield it. You just need a steady hand and intent."
He turned toward a reinforced wall panel marked with faint scorch marks.
"I've deconstructed the original and created a modified blueprint," he continued. "My version is… intentionally weakened. Shorter range, lower pressure, a built-in safety seal that jams under certain chakra interference—just in case some fool decides to mass-produce it here."
He gestured toward the gun. "If you want to make it potent, do it yourself. But I take no responsibility for the outcome."
Sasuke tilted his head. "You're really going to demonstrate it now?"
"Of course," Orochimaru replied.
He took a stance, flicked off the safety, and leveled the weapon at the wall.
"Now, watch closely."
He pulled the trigger.
The sound was deafening.
A sharp, thunderous crack ripped through the chamber, rebounding against metal and stone like a lightning strike. A puff of smoke trailed from the barrel, and the impact point on the wall now bore a precise, fist-sized crater.
Silence.
Then—
Kabuto clutched his ears. "WHAT THE HELL?!"
Sasuke staggered a step back, wincing, one hand over his left ear. "Tch—warn us next time!"
Orochimaru blinked, ears ringing, lips pursed in mild regret. "Ah. Right. Guess I should've used the suppressor."
Kabuto blinked at him, still unable to hear. "DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?!"
Sasuke muttered something lost to static, pacing slowly to regain balance.
Orochimaru gently lowered the gun, rubbing his ear. "Well. Effective, isn't it?"
Kabuto gave him a flat look, still mouthing what looked like curses. Sasuke merely glared, though his curiosity now outweighed his irritation.
Orochimaru placed the weapon back into its case like a priest returning a relic to its altar.
The sharpness of the blast still hung in the air, like a phantom echo rattling just beyond the walls. The ringing in their ears had started to fade, replaced by a tense silence broken only by the faint hum of distant equipment.
Sasuke stood still, gaze fixed not on Orochimaru—but on the wall.
The crater left by the projectile was still warm, the stone around it flaked and cracked—but it wasn't the only mark.
Below and around it were faint black burns, some old and smoothed over by time, others shallow like surface gouges from repeated strikes. They weren't new, but neither were they ancient. The stone had been used—not just once.
He glanced at Kabuto, who now squinted, still rubbing one ear, his grin slowly returning.
"…Wait," Kabuto muttered, pointing. "Those marks aren't from today, are they?"
Sasuke took another step forward, his tone dry. "Looks like this wasn't his first time playing with the thing."
Orochimaru, casually clicking the case shut, offered a mild shrug. "Late nights. You two are out more often than not. Someone has to enjoy the silence."
Kabuto chuckled. "So that's what you do when we're gone? Run your own private target drills?"
Sasuke crossed his arms. "I always figured it was just weird breathing exercises."
There was a beat.
Then Kabuto leaned toward him, lowering his voice with mock gravity. "You mean the same breathing exercises locked behind the pulsing room?" earning a chuckle from Sasuke.
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed faintly. "It was an experiment."
Kabuto nodded, lips twitching. "Sure. A chakra feedback study using a shadow clone that just happens to look like Lady Tsunade."
Sasuke tilted his head. "Did it learn anything useful?"
"Resilience," Orochimaru muttered defensively. "And hormonal loops."
Kabuto burst out laughing. "Shinobi science at its peak."
Sasuke smirked, tapping the wall gently. "And this is the aftermath of his other nightly rituals?"
Kabuto leaned closer to one of the blackened patches. "This one looks like it struck wide."
"It was a calibration trial," Orochimaru said flatly.
Kabuto glanced over his shoulder. "So was the clone, I bet."
Orochimaru inhaled slowly, as though counting backward from ten.
Sasuke's smirk grew slightly. "I never pictured you the type to get excited about imported trinkets from the other side."
"Adaptability is a shinobi's true strength," Orochimaru replied, smoothing his sleeve. "You'd both do well to remember that."
Kabuto grinned. "Right. So what's next? Building your own steam-powered doll to keep the clone company?"
Orochimaru gave a slow, ominous smile. "Don't tempt me."
Sasuke glanced sideways at Kabuto. "He's not joking."
Kabuto whispered, "Not even a little."
The three stood there for a quiet moment in the lingering scent of smoke and oil, surrounded by shadow, reinforced stone, and the increasingly evident truth that their reclusive master had more hobbies than either of them ever wanted to know.
"Right. And now," he said with a faint smirk, "you understand why I applied as a research professor."
Kabuto leaned against the wall, arms crossed, still recovering from the last laugh. "A research professor… with chakra sex clones, golden-egg geese, and high-velocity imports from across the sea. What's next? A shinobi cookbook?"
Sasuke added, "You'll have to publish under a new name. No one's going to take a shinobi war criminal seriously at an academy--or university in your term."
Orochimaru tilted his head, vaguely amused. "Funny you mention that."
Both Kabuto and Sasuke paused, half expecting sarcasm.
"I've already been called Mr. Orochi by a few of my contacts over there," Orochimaru said with a slight grimace. "I didn't choose it. One of them started it as a joke. It stuck."
Kabuto blinked. "Mr. Orochi? That sounds like a traveling snake-oil salesman."
"I know," Orochimaru replied, unamused. "But it's better than Solid Snake."
Sasuke squinted. "What?"
"I'm told it's a cultural joke," Orochimaru muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Something about how the things I share or trade with them are always 'solid.' Solid data. Solid samples. No embellishment."
Kabuto looked like he was about to break again. "That's… actually kind of fitting."
Sasuke cracked a small grin. "Solid Snake. The legendary underground merchant of chakra science."
Orochimaru groaned softly, adjusting his collar. "I should've burned that alias when I had the chance."
Kabuto grinned, then gave a more sincere nod. "Still. You really going through with it, huh?"
"I am," Orochimaru said, stepping back toward the center of the room. "I've already sent off my final papers. They're preparing housing, a laboratory, and even a class slot under my pseudonym. I'll be teaching advanced biological theory to people who think chakra is still a bedtime story."
Sasuke's expression shifted—not in disbelief, but in quiet calculation. "And us?"
Orochimaru turned back to face him.
Sasuke's voice lowered. "What about the labs you've hidden across the continent? The ones filled with your inhumane trials. The victims who never made it out—and the ones still alive. The people you used and discarded. Some of them are still breathing."
He didn't say any names, but they both knew who he meant.
There was a pause.
Then Orochimaru sighed, and for once, his smirk vanished.
"There are things I've done in pursuit of knowledge that no redemption will ever clean," he said quietly. "I know that. I stopped pretending to be forgiven a long time ago."
Sasuke didn't respond.
Orochimaru looked up, steady.
"I won't make excuses. I acted without morality because I didn't care to. The world—this world—was already built on blood and silence. I just peeled back the curtain."
He stepped away from the vault, hands behind his back.
"And now… it's your call."
Kabuto frowned. "What does that mean?"
"I'm not assigning you orders," Orochimaru said. "The facilities I once operated are dormant. Some survivors are in stasis. Others... less fortunate. I've marked their locations. If you choose to liberate them, bury them, study them—whatever you decide—it's up to you. You're both capable of judgment."
Sasuke looked away, jaw clenched. "You're dumping your sins on us."
"I'm entrusting consequences to those I trust most to carry them," Orochimaru said plainly. "I'm not running from guilt. I'm just done pretending to hold onto the leash."
Kabuto was quiet, shoulders tense. Then, finally: "So what happens to this place?"
Orochimaru glanced at the floor beneath their feet.
"This particular lab is rigged with a progressive seal-lock. Once I'm gone, certain chambers will become inaccessible. The more dangerous relics—the incomplete ones—will be locked behind layered decryption. Not destruction. Just... containment."
Sasuke raised an eyebrow. "Why not just wipe it clean?"
Orochimaru gave the faintest smile. "Because truth, no matter how ugly, deserves to be found. Even if it's buried. If either of you can open it later, then you were meant to."
Kabuto exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "You always were a bastard."
"But an honest one," Orochimaru replied.
He turned to Sasuke.
"You chase truth in systems. Structure, power, lineage, consequence. Keep digging. Not just for strength—but to understand why strength matters."
Then to Kabuto.
"You bend people without jutsu. You read intentions, guide them. But you're more than a manipulator. You're a mirror. One who knows when to crack a reflection just enough to show someone their real face."
Kabuto blinked. "…That's actually the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
Orochimaru nodded, faint smile on his lips. "Don't get used to it."
He turned, stepping toward the exit of the vault.
The weight in the room changed—not heavy, not grief-laced—just real. Like the closing of a door behind someone who knows it won't open again.
Sasuke folded his arms. "So this is it?"
Orochimaru paused at the threshold.
"I've done all I can here," he said softly. "I'll let the world rot, rebuild, or reinvent itself without me. But if you two ever uncover something I didn't expect—send me a letter."
Kabuto raised a hand in mock salute. "To Mr. Orochi?"
But just as he was about to step through the exit, Sasuke's voice cut in again.
"Hold on," Sasuke said, brows narrowing. "What about your research into Void Release? Didn't you study it?"
There was a pause.
Orochimaru turned, slowly retracing his steps toward the unrolled world map still pinned across the central table. He approached it like a scholar returning to an unsolved riddle.
"…Ah. Right. That," he said, almost to himself.
Kabuto blinked. "You forgot?"
"I'm old, Kabuto," Orochimaru said, dry as desert air. "Like Jiraiya. Or Tsunade. Especially Jiraiya."
He placed his hands on either side of the parchment and scanned the continents with a quiet, almost reverent gaze.
"Void Release," he said softly, "defies every known framework in this world. It does not come from chakra, like the Five Nations—our system, our tradition. It does not flow like mana in Aetheris, nor sing with elemental spirits. It bears no resonance with memory-forged astral fields of the Skydwellers. No known compatibility with the biological merges found in the Sable Dominion. Nor with the technological currents from the Land of Freedom."
He tapped one region after the next.
"Chakra is tied to the body. A biological engine—tempered by control, refined by lineage. It shaped the great shinobi and birthed the gods we know: the Sage of Six Paths. Kaguya. The Ten-Tails. Even the Shinigami—the god of death feared in sealing rites—falls within this ecosystem. A known variable."
He shifted further west.
"Mana," he continued, "comes from harmony—an external flow that must be invited, respected, sung into action. The people of Aetheris don't command it. They court it. Their gods are voices in nature, not tyrants. When they speak of divinity, it's the elemental balance, not hierarchy."
Then north.
"The Skydwellers? Their power is ancestral—a pact of memory. The past fuels the present. Their entire belief system hinges on the reverence of lineage. Their gods are not singular—but collective. Ghosts turned into legacy."
Then to the twisted southern coasts.
"In the Dominion," Orochimaru went on, "power is organic. Symbiotic. Host and parasite become one. Their rites are not prayers, but contracts—mutual evolution. They revere transformation, not stillness."
Then to the industrial steppes.
"And the Land of Freedom... has no gods. Only progress. Their tools are built, not inherited. They worship ingenuity, not fate."
He stood tall again.
"And yet Void Release… connects to none of these."
Kabuto folded his arms, voice quieter now. "You think it's alien?"
"I think it's wrong," Orochimaru said, his tone strange—not angry, not fearful. Just honest. "The oldest fragments describe it as anti-structure. Not just an energy we don't understand—but one that rejects understanding."
Sasuke's gaze sharpened. "Where does it come from?"
"I don't know," Orochimaru admitted. "But nearly all credible scraps point upward—not to heavens, not to some divine plane—but to the sky. As if it fell. As if it was never supposed to be here."
He looked back down at the map.
"There is one recurring term. No symbol. No story. Just a term—Gate. Scrawled like a warning, or a scar."
Kabuto stared. "…A god?"
"More than a god," Orochimaru said. "Older than Kaguya. Older than the Shinigami. Older than Jashin. A being without system, without symbol, without cycle. No shrine. No bloodline. No worshippers. Just… implication."
He stepped away from the table now while also taking the case containing the gun noticeably seems to also forgotten the first time. His eyes dimmed in thought.
"And I've compiled what I could. Notes. Diagrams. Hypotheses. It's the one study I never submitted to the universities in the Land of Freedom."
Sasuke looked at him sideways. "Why?"
Orochimaru exhaled through his nose. "Because everything I've written amounts to inference. And worse—none of it agrees with itself. Each discovery breaks the last one. Each theory cancels out another. The more I uncovered, the more I lost the frame."
He glanced over his shoulder.
"It's there if you want it. All of it. In a sealed drawer beneath the map table. But I warn you… it won't give you answers. Just better questions."
With that, he turned fully once more, coat swaying softly as he strode toward the corridor.
And this time, he didn't pause.
Only just before he disappeared into shadow, his voice carried back—low and almost fond.
"Take care of each other, will you?"
A beat
"And if you two find yourselves chasing whispers… keep your ears open for a black-robed faith with spiralling eye patterns and no gods. They're more patient than they look."
He began to walk again, then added, almost absently:
"And don't worry about the boy. He knows what he's doing."
Kabuto's brow furrowed, but Sasuke didn't ask.
He already knew who he meant.
Then Orochimaru was gone.