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Suddenly the wall stopped.

Again everything fell silent.

But this silence was different.

Even though not a single sound seemed to rise into the air, their senses registered something faint. It was both like a ring and a howl, a bizarre combination of sounds that seemed quite unfitting, creating a debilitating, alien pitch. The sound was utterly disgusting – simply something about it that seemed as if it was not of this world. It was a melody, yet also a shrill howl. The resonance filled the mind with a compulsion to vomit. Not from nausea, but simply because the horrid melody seemed so absurd, so sweet yet at the same time, utterly terrifying.

Their run was successful. As the two approached the green light, the duo would once more feel as if they were being watched. The same voice as before rang in the ears.

”You walk close to a terror you cannot bear. Turn, or kneel and pray. Else, your will regret your every step, your every breath.”

Should they dare step through the door, a small room awaited. Ten by ten meters. That within – it was simply wretched.

It was something human eyes were not meant to see.

That, truly it was not.

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A beast, nay, a thing quivered in the center of the room. It was a sphere with limbs extending from its bizarre figure. Arms and legs extended from the body, trembling, as if attempting to tear free. The desperate attempt of the various limbs failed utterly as they simply shook. Tumors grew from the sphere, a compelling color – a bright combination of red and blue from which the gaze was difficult to avert. The tumors, too, quivered.

Faces covered the wall. Faces carved from the head. Eyes have been placed within them, all twenty of them turning to meet the two brave Konohagakure shinobi. Blood flowed from these faces, a constant stream pouring onto the grounds. But this blood was not red. It was blue. The cerulean liquid dripped, slithering along the grounds to a pedestal in the center. A book stood upon the pedestal, glowing with a green light.

The books cover was delicately carved from bone. Judging from their strength and texture, the bones belonged to children. Each page was fashioned not from parchment, but from soft, infant skin. A truly wicked mind was at work here. But the culprit was nowhere to be seen. The book waited to be opened.

Jiyuu smiled at hearing his comrades words. There was a certain humor to the naivity, yet also a sense of delight, for such a spirit is rare in a world torn by war. Yet, the Hokage felt the urge to retort,”You live someone else’s dream? That is not the way one should live.” he said rather callously. Shrugging, Jiyuu continued,”You live, you dream what you want to dream. Live someone else’s, and you will never truly be alive.”

The thin smile soon faded into a frown upon being referred to as great. Jiyuu was no great man; nay, he was a monstrosity destined for the fiery pits of hell. ”I am no great man. I have killed, I have murdered.” He extended his hands, palms held outwards as the frown deepened. Paper fluttered from his figure to envelop his shape, circling around the man’s lithe body. ”These hands are stained with blood. This paper, the catalyst.” A miniature, paper blade formed from a single sheet. A second formed into a fist, it’s texture changed to that of Jiyuu’s own skin tone. ”Your blade and fist will be stained with blood. You may think that you kill for the greater good. And you will kill, when chasing that dream. And no matter what you do, you will have taken a life. A mother, a father, a wife, or perhaps a husband, even children who will never see the fallen one again. Can you truly shoulder that burden?”

Absent-mindedly the Hokage stared into the waters beneath. His gaze was both reminiscent and regretful. With lips formed into a scowl, the man seemed angry, but the feature manifested from frustration. Frustration intermingled with lament. ”You do not lack the power. You are no less than I. We are both men, spat forth from the womb of our mothers in a world that wants us dead. You, Naota, are greater than I.”

From the heavens he descended, a mocking, black-winged caricature of an angel. While Jiyuu’s wings were formed from paper, they carried him through the skies nonetheless. His gray eyes shifted downwards, a vigilant, yet regretful gaze glancing at his village, Konohagakure. A frown spread across his face, corners of the mouth tilted downward as the horrors of the Hungerer’s Cult tore at his senses; the Hokage’s greatest failure, the death of many. In the finality of their lives, they faced terror while Jiyuu simply sat in the castle. Now he traversed the village through the skies, shoulders slumped.

The Hokage spotted a figure, no more than a child in his eyes. The frown deepened, for it was his duty to hone such warriors, prepare them for battle; so was his task, yet an utterly wretched one, for these young children must face the same pain and death Jiyuu himself looked upon during the wars. With his black wings he descended, landing on the bridge beside Naota.

”Well met.” Jiyuu grumbled, his voice deep and gruff, ”I apologize, but I do not know your name. I am Jiyuu, your Hokage.” he continued, turning his eyes to draw in the child’s figure. What a pity it is, that he has no choice but to corrupt this young child with the spirit of battle in the times to come, when Konohagakure faces the terrors of the rebellion and the Hungerer’s Cult.

The beast moved in a flicker, its movement barely traceable as it appeared several meters before Amon after only a few seconds had passed. With its black spike, the monstrosity lashed out at the swordsman, the tip flashing as the little light of the cavern fell upon it. It came from above, but the blow was rather inaccurate, landing two meters beside Amon. Yet, despite the mist, the strike possessed a fearsome strength, for it crushed the rocks beneath, sending rubble fluttering to the sides.

The eyes within the stalagmites opened wide, gaze averting from Amon and the beast. Eyelids closed again and again before these eyes fell forward, out of the rock, onto the ground and began to spin wildly. The scene was utterly bizarre, for soon the eyeballs melted as they merged with the grounds, a sickening odor rising into the air.

The crimson liquid that Amon had seen before went on its way again too as it slowly flowed from the walls, pulsating slowly as the light of the cavern fell upon it; curiously, the reflection took on a rather bizarre form, a rainbow of unusually mixed colors – black, green, white, silver, and light blue.

Kohana

From ten meters away, the thug scarcely had enough time to react, and in the middle of performing his hand seals, he inhaled the cloud. His eyes widened in shock as his body began to feel numb. Plummeting forward on the ground, he collapsed face first with a grunt, incapable of moving for the next few moments.

Yet, a rather cruel turn of fate struck shortly after the man was paralyzed…

Another thug ran towards Konoha, this one surely an utter strike at her will, for the assailant was another Hyuuga. A man much older than her, brow creased. Age wore heavily on him as seen with the wrinkled both on his face and his hands. With a narrowed gaze he stared at Konoha, from twenty meters away, hands held out, eager to begin the battle.

Amon

The creator finished his hand seals, but did not yet complete the technique. As the last seal was held, he began to dash backwards, feet at a quick haste as he attempted to continue to increase the distance. For two seconds he ran, awaiting the move of the foe before unleashing the fiery fury.

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”My fury knows no bounds.” the Hokage roared, fingers once again dancing to perform the next set of seals. Flying towards the right, he avoided the kunai.

The three swords, meanwhile, reached the thug that attacked Jiyuu. From three sides, simultaneously, they struck – the top, left and right, impaling him fiercely as he feebly attempted to evade the curious paper blades. The two clones, meanwhile, continued their charge, close to joining Amon and Kohana.

Steps.

Steps that shook the very grounds.

Step after step.

From the wall, a fearsome beast walked forth, truly utterly disturbing. Pseudonatural. The monstrosity stood at ten meters, with a torso similar to that of a man, but that is where recognizable traits ended. In place of a head, the thing had a black spike, pulsing with green ooze. Instead of arms, the beast had tentacles, both slithering from side to side, dragging along the grounds, scraping the rock with each step. The creature had no legs. It dragged forth its massive figure with the tentacles, moving rather swiftly despite the unconventional method of movement.

”You moved. You fell.” the man said, again with a wicked smile. He grabbed the old man by the head and slammed his face against the throne again and again. Desperately, the elderly victim attempted to tear himself free, but the Whisperer was simply too mighty. Within moments, the old man’s skull cracked, brain matter flowing forth as the corpse was carelessly pushed onto the ground. ”So, it seems as if you are…hesitant. Then, fight. Once you lie in a bloodied mass, you will change your mind.”

With a nod, the Whisperer sat on the throne once again, simply shrugging at the blood that now covered it.

The short man sat broodingly, left, calloused hand caressing his beard. His fingers hinted at a life of hard work, but likely tasks of the disturbing kind, for his hands were doused in blood, some of it fresh. The crimson fluid dripped from his hands onto the grounds, the splash echoing along the cavern walls. He nodded slowly at hearing Amon’s words, that sickening smile still upon his face.

”What you say, truly, is insignificant.” the man boomed, voice sending the caverns into a rumble. The eyes upon the stalagmites twitched as he roared, eyelids closing and opening multiple times before the pupils turned to stare at Amon yet again. ”Their gaze is judging, but mine is divine. They simply watch and judge, but I command, with a divine voice blessed by the Hungerer himself.” he came to a short pause and chuckled quietly, the laughter utterly unfit for the situation at hand. He pulled forth a kunai from his pack in a flash and stabbed the young boy with it, movement so fluid that there was no time whatsoever to protect the boy.

The child yelped in pain as the metal tip protruded his back. With eyes widened in fear, he plummeted forward onto the rigid, cavern floors, bones breaking as his nose slammed into the ground at full force. Desperately the boy attempted to gasp, but it was of no use, for he vomited soon after, the pain resulting in nausea. He gagged and gagged as the vomit came forth, scarcely having the strength to turn onto his back. By the time he turned to his back, saliva dripped from the mouth and his eyes rolled back in the head. One last, gagging sound rung out, and like the Watcher’s voice, it echoed throughout the cavern. The reverberation was truly disturbing, for it was the sound of a dying child.

The Watcher’s wry smile turned into a horrid frown, brow furrowing as he spoke yet again, voice soft again. ”The old man will, too, meet his death. Do not dare step forward, else he will die. More brutally than the child.” The Watcher snapped his fingers and the red hued liquid he had seen in the swordsman room flowed forth from each eyeball on the stalagmites. ”Move and the old man will die. So. Your choices are as follows: Remain still and die. Move and watch the old man die. Or join me.” After the offer was made, the cavern became eerily silent.

Then it shook. Shook so heavily that Amon could barely remain standing.

A wall eighty meters to the left of Amon slowly began to open.

What horrors lurked behind…?