For the first time in as long as he could remember, Orochimaru felt it. The cold, unyielding grip of fear. It coiled around him like a venomous snake, squeezing tighter with every second as he looked up at Yami. The demonic presence radiating from the young warrior was beyond anything Orochimaru had ever encountered.
Yami's dark, otherworldly form loomed above him, his golden eyes gleaming with an unnatural light. The sheer pressure of his aura pressed down on Orochimaru, suffocating, leaving him no room to breathe or even think. This was more than power—it was a force of nature, something primal and ancient, as if the darkness itself had taken on flesh.
Orochimaru's thoughts raced, disjointed and erratic, his mind unable to fully process what he was seeing. Itachi… The memory of that haunting gaze flickered through his mind, the one time he'd come face to face with the overwhelming strength of the Uchiha prodigy. But this… this was different. This was something darker, something born not only from raw power but from an unholy pact that went beyond anything he'd ever studied or encountered.
"What… is this generation?" he whispered, the words escaping him in a tremble. How could such monsters exist, these young prodigies who defied the natural limits of power and reason?
Orochimaru's gaze flickered to Sasuke's crumpled form nearby. Is this… the future? Is this the world they are to inherit? The question gnawed at him, tearing apart the pride he'd built over years of seeking immortality, of believing he alone could master the forces of the world. Now, staring up at Yami, he could see the folly in his ambition. This young warrior had crossed boundaries that Orochimaru had only dreamed of—he hadn't simply wielded power; he had transcended it.
Yami's energy pulsed, a reminder of the pact that had transformed him, binding him with a demon so fierce that its power seemed limitless. The cloak of dark energy, reminiscent of something Orochimaru had only seen in legends, shrouded Yami's form, amplifying his every movement and breath with an aura of undeniable supremacy. This wasn't just strength—it was dominion, a power that bent everything around it to its will.
What DNA… what lineage could produce something like this? Orochimaru's mind spun, obsessively searching for an explanation. But the scientist in him was helpless, outmatched by the primal terror that clawed at his thoughts.
For once, he felt small, insignificant in the presence of something so vast, so terrifyingly unknown. His dream of transcending death, of achieving a perfect vessel, seemed fragile in comparison. He wasn't standing against a human—he was facing something more profound, something that had already surpassed the limitations of mortal understanding.
In that moment, Orochimaru understood what true fear was. It wasn't the thought of death or the loss of his ambitions. It was the realization that he was no longer the one in control—that he, the seeker of eternity, was outmatched by a mere human fused with the demonic, a power that had shattered his illusions and laid bare his vulnerability.
And as Yami's gaze bore down on him, Orochimaru knew that there was no science, no forbidden jutsu, no experiment that could protect him from what lay before him. For the first time, he was staring at something beyond even his comprehension. And for the first time… Orochimaru trembled.