NARUTO: GOD LEVEL FORGING SYSTEM

Kazuki's heart pounded with excitement.

But when he recalled the brutal conditions necessary to accomplish this mission, a moment of hesitation crept in.

The requirements for success were undoubtedly severe.

The Sharingan—what was it?

It was the coveted dōjutsu that Orochimaru, Danzo, and countless others sought desperately.

And tonight—tonight was the Uchiha Clan Downfall. By sunrise, the number of surviving Uchiha who possessed the Sharingan would be so few they could be counted on one hand.

Aside from Sasuke Uchiha, who had yet to awaken his dōjutsu, every remaining wielder was an elite warrior, making the chances of obtaining a Sharingan as slim as plucking the moon from the sky.

Tonight was the only opportunity.

Kazuki's fingers tightened around the mask in his grasp.

A bold, reckless idea took shape in his mind.

A full moon hung like a watchful eye over Konoha, casting an eerie glow.

In the dead of night, even the usual chirping of insects had fallen silent.

The Uchiha district—once a proud and sprawling settlement—stood at the very edge of Konoha, isolated both physically and politically.

After the death of the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, his brother, the Second Hokage, Senju Tobirama, had taken power. His distrust of the Uchiha ran deep, and his policies subtly but effectively marginalized them.

Tobirama, a genius in both ninjutsu and political maneuvering, had placed the Uchiha in charge of the Konoha Military Police Force. To outsiders, it seemed like an honor, but in truth, it was a calculated move, stripping the clan of real political influence while burdening them with maintaining order—a role that bred resentment among the village's civilians.

Thus, over time, the Uchiha were pushed from their once-central position in the village to its outskirts.

This very isolation made it easier for Konoha's leadership to cover up the truth of the massacre that was about to unfold.

In the dense woods just outside the Uchiha compound, a shadowy figure stood among his subordinates.

Shimura Danzo watched, eyes cold and calculating, as his elite operatives—the elite of Root—maintained their silent vigil over the Uchiha's final hours.

Beside him stood Uchiha Itachi, clad in his black ANBU cloak.

Itachi's gaze flickered across the Root members standing behind Danzo.

They were lifeless. Mere tools of war, devoid of emotion, trained to obey without question.

Their presence was unsettling. Could beings who had been stripped of their humanity still be called human?

Itachi's thoughts darkened.

These men had not simply been trained into unfeeling weapons.

Danzo had ensured their absolute obedience by branding them with the Curse Mark of the Tongue.

A single word of betrayal would paralyze them—rendering them speechless, immobile, helpless.

A cruel but effective measure.

Danzo was, without a doubt, a dangerous man.

"Itachi," Danzo's voice finally broke the silence.

The old war hawk's single eye scrutinized him before he nodded. "Go. Leave the rest to me."

Then, with a smirk, he added, "And don't let unnecessary thoughts cloud your judgment. Remember—your brother is still in our hands. You wouldn't want anything… unfortunate to happen to him, would you?"

Itachi's expression remained blank. "Understood."

Without another word, he turned and strode toward the Uchiha district.

His steps were measured—not hurried, yet not slow.

Yet, with every step, an invisible storm seemed to follow in his wake.

A storm of quiet, inevitable destruction.

As Uchiha Itachi stepped into the Uchiha district, Shimura Danzo extended his right hand in a commanding gesture to his Root operatives concealed in the shadows.

In the next instant, dozens of masked Root ANBU, previously hidden around the district's perimeter, moved into position. Their swift, precise hand seals synchronized, triggering a large-scale fūinjutsu.

From all directions, chakra surged and interconnected, forming a multi-layered barrier jutsu that enclosed the entire Uchiha compound, cutting off any potential escape routes.

"The Uchiha have been sealed inside," one operative reported.

Danzo's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Hmph… Tonight, the Uchiha will vanish from Konoha for good."

His single visible eye gleamed with anticipation. "I wonder how many Sharingan I'll acquire this time…"

Scoffing, he muttered, "That fool Hiruzen fears tarnishing his name, so he left this necessary task to me. Heh…"

Suppressing a sinister chuckle, Danzo sneered, "This only proves one thing—I am the only one fit to lead Konoha! Once I obtain the Sharingan, the Hokage's seat is mine!"

Lost in his ambition, he failed to notice the faint warping of space behind him.

Silently, a masked figure stood at his side. His presence undetectable.

Hearing Danzo's arrogance, the figure—an elite ANBU codenamed Tenma—murmured under his breath:

"I'm trained to stay silent… But sometimes, I just can't help but laugh."

---

Meanwhile, within the Uchiha district...

"Itachi, what's with this attitude?! You didn't even attend the meeting tonight!"

As Uchiha Itachi stepped further into the clan grounds, several guards stationed at the entrance quickly approached, their gazes filled with suspicion.

Though Itachi held a high-ranking position in the ANBU, resentment toward him had festered among his kin. Many viewed him as a traitor who prioritized Konoha's interests over his own clan.

One scoffed, "No matter how much time you spend in the ANBU, don't forget your roots. You're still Uchiha."

Another sneered, "Heh, maybe he's grown too comfortable as the Hokage's lapdog and forgotten where he came from."

Their distrust was evident. Though Itachi had been discreet before, tonight, his presence felt… different. Unsettling.

"The Uchiha name…" Itachi murmured, almost to himself.

In the next heartbeat—

His crimson eyes snapped open. The three tomoe of his Sharingan spun rapidly, radiating an ominous glow.

"Then tonight, the Uchiha name shall take on new meaning."

As his chilling words settled, the guards barely had time to react.

Their expressions shifted—first to shock, then to sheer terror.

Before they could scream, their bodies froze. Their minds trapped in an instant of paralyzing Genjutsu.

In mere moments, the elite Uchiha guards fell, unable to resist the overwhelming illusion.

With eerie precision, Itachi moved.

Kunai gleamed in the moonlight.

Throats were slit.

Bodies collapsed soundlessly.

And in a matter of seconds, the ground was littered with lifeless corpses.

For Uchiha Itachi, this was only the beginning of the night's carnage.

The massacre had begun.

Within the Uchiha district, the power of a fully matured Mangekyō Sharingan reigned supreme.

Itachi, wielding this higher-tier dōjutsu, carved through his clan members effortlessly. Against a standard Sharingan, his ocular prowess was absolute.

However, the growing chaos soon alerted the elite forces of the Uchiha Police Force.

"Itachi! What the hell are you doing?!"

"You dare betray your own clan?!"

"Kill him!"

The police force—comprising Uchiha elites, all of whom had awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan—moved as one. Their battle-honed reflexes and combat skills made them formidable adversaries.

Even for Itachi, the sheer numbers posed a challenge.

Just as the Uchiha police force lunged forward—

Space distorted.

A masked figure emerged before them.

And then, they saw it.

A single eye.

A sinister Mangekyō Sharingan gazed upon them.

A low, eerie chuckle echoed from beneath the mask.

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