Madara left the city of Kyoto under the cloudy night sky.
Of course, he knew he was being followed. He deliberately walked into the forest, knowing it was where they would attack. Ambushes in forests—as a shinobi—were nothing new.
Then, suddenly, deep in the woods, he stopped.
Arms crossed over his chest, his onyx eyes lazily followed the swaying trees, as if he could see something others couldn't.
A vampire—faster than any human—lunged from the bushes, claws aimed at Madara's throat.
Madara tilted his head slightly, letting the strike glide past. His hand shot out, gripping the vampire's arm—and it snapped like dry wood before the creature could even scream.
Madara rotated and slammed his elbow into the vampire's ribs, sending him crashing through multiple trees.
He didn't bother replying. Two more vampires attacked in tandem—one high, one low.Madara ducked the first blow and caught the second vampire's kick midair, yanking him forward and driving a knee into his face. The bone mask shattered on impact.
The second vampire recovered instantly, fangs bared. He feinted left and aimed for Madara's blind spot.
Madara smirked."Predictable."
He spun, grabbed the vampire by the throat, and slammed him into the earth with enough force to crater the mud and grass. Before the creature could react, Madara's foot came down—crushing his skull into the dirt.
The vampire's body twitched, already beginning to reform.
Madara scoffed."Annoying regeneration. But it's not like I didn't kill you instantly."
Another blur—this vampire slightly more clever—dodged Madara's counter and landed a solid kick to his side.
Madara barely moved, glancing down at him."That's all?"
His fist blurred forward like lightning, caving in the vampire's chest with a single strike. The force sent him flying through ancient oaks until he finally crumpled against a boulder.
From the shadows, a noblewoman watched, her cold eyes narrowing.
"He's toying with them… like they're ordinary humans. This is…"
Another vampire stepped forward—one of their coven's strongest. Still cannon fodder to Madara, but slightly more competent.
He moved with precision and experience. Then again, all vampires had experience. Some had lived for thousands of years—if they survived that long.
Madara's face remained neutral, though the faintest flicker of interest passed across his features. The vampire didn't hesitate. He attacked in a flurry—elbows, knees, claws. Madara countered with perfect blocks, smooth parries, and fluid evasions.
Then he stopped dodging—just to test him.
A punch connected with Madara's jaw.
Silence.
The vampire froze, staring at his broken hand.
Madara's head hadn't even tilted. He was completely unharmed.
"This is saddening," Madara said flatly.
The vampire's instincts screamed—but Madara was faster. He grabbed the vampire's arm, twisted—SNAP—and hurled him into the ground like a ragdoll.
Madara knew none of these vampires had truly died. With his keen eyes, he saw the signs—bones knitting, wounds closing. They were healing.
Because he let them.
He was testing this world's strength—its so-called "supernaturals": vampires and werewolves alike.
The vampires regrouped, their forms already regenerating.
The noblewoman's fear sharpened into command."Enough games. Kill him!"
A dozen vampires lunged—blurs of pale flesh and fangs.
Madara exhaled, already bored."Very well. Burn."
His hands moved in a smooth, practiced seal.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu."
A tornado of flame erupted from his mouth, engulfing the forest. The vampires had no time to scream. Though their bodies were built to resist ordinary fire, chakra-fueled flames incinerated them instantly.
The noblewoman stood just beyond the blast radius, eyes wide in horror. Her coven—the family she had walked with for centuries—burned like paper.
They crumbled to ash.And then—nothing.
"Pitiful," Madara muttered.
The noblewoman hissed, fangs bared."You yok—"
She never finished.
Madara's hand shot out like a bullet. She dodged—barely—but still slammed into a tree, gasping in pain.
How is he this fast?
She could barely track the red blur of his scarred armor. A cold, primal fear gripped her—a fear she hadn't felt since her first night as a vampire.
Madara didn't let her think. His hand still hung in the air where she had been moments ago.
"Well, at least you have faster reflexes than that other one," he said, amused.
Enraged, she lunged—fury overtaking reason. She locked eyes with him, filled with rage… and a flicker of terror.
But as she flew at him, it felt wrong.Dreamlike.Surreal.
She ignored the sensation. It had haunted her ever since she first saw him in Kyoto.
Then, for the first time—she touched him.
And the illusion shattered.
A ripple of cold shot through her. Her breath caught.
She stood frozen, crimson eyes wide in horror.
The forest was different.
The trees were shredded. Clawed. Burned. Her coven lay scattered—bodies mangled, torn, incinerated.
Madara had already killed them all—with fire... and with deception.
"It was quite interesting," Madara said, calmly surveying the aftermath."To see vampires kill each other."
He had planted a genjutsu in her eyes the first time they met in Kyoto—a subtle seed that activated the moment they crossed paths again.
He hadn't even needed eye contact this time.
While she thought she was attacking Madara...
...she had been slaughtering her own coven.
What had felt like a single lunge...Had lasted minutes.
She had been in genjutsu the entire time since the fight started,all according to my wishes.
Madara watched her impassively, his Sharingan glowing in the dim moonlight.
"You…" she whispered, voice hoarse."You made me kill them?"
Madara tilted his head, as if pondering."No. You destroyed them. I merely... guided your instincts. And finished the rest."
He stepped closer. She collapsed to her knees—broken.Not from wounds.From truth.
She had been utterly outplayed.
By a human.
Madara gripped her throat and lifted her easily into the air. Her eyes met his one last time as he cast another genjutsu.
Her pupils dilated. Her gaze dimmed.
"Italy… Volterra… Roman…" she murmured.
And then—he burned her alive.
Flames consumed her just like the others.
Only ash remained.Then—not even that.
As he walked through the night, the names she had whispered—Volterra and Rome—lingered in his mind.
"Europe it is, then," he mused aloud.
He would travel the world. Experience new powers. Test new creatures. Learn new truths.
Let's hope it proves… interesting.
After extracting the name Volterra from the noblewoman's mind, Madara scoured Kyoto's underworld for information. He discovered that while rare, European ships occasionally arrived—trading silk and steel.
One such vessel was captained by a Danish trader named Hrorek, who boasted of sailing to Frankia.
Madara considered his options: take a ship...Or simply walk.
After all—his legs were transport enough.
The route would be simple:Silk Road → Constantinople → Venice → Volterra.
He walked to the nearest waterway in the forest. Chakra surged into his feet. He stepped forward.
His foot did not sink.
He stood atop the surface.
Then, with a burst of speed, he ran—hypersonic—tearing across the water. Waves split apart behind him, a trench forming in his wake.
He vanished into the night.
Europe awaited.