As Zeldris finished speaking, Uchiha Itachi’s pupils narrowed sharply.
Illusions... immunity?
Wasn’t that sothing only the legendary Rinnegan could pull off?
But Zeldris’s eyes didn’t look anything like Rinnegan. Not even close.
Though he’d never seen a real Rinnegan in person, he’d done his howork.
Thoroughly.
And this guy... this guy was clearly running so terrifying, off-brand pupil technique.
Itachi ntally sighed. Great. Another walking mystery with glowing eyes.
As he processed, Zeldris gave a casual smirk and said:
"Okay, Uchiha Itachi. I don’t want to fight you right now... because honestly?You’re no match for ."
Blunt. Arrogant. But sohow... annoyingly confident.
Itachi’s eyes darkened slightly, though his face stayed unreadable. Poker face level: Jonin.
Zeldris had good reason to be cocky.
He knew that although Itachi had awakened the Mangekyō Sharingan, he hadn’t yet unlocked Amaterasu.
Susanoo? Still locked behind a spiritual paywall.
If Itachi did have Amaterasu, Zeldris (or "Shiroha" as he was sotis called) might’ve had to take things seriously.
But right now? All Itachi had was so basic Sharingan moves and his trusty Tsukuyomi.
Too bad for him—Zeldris’s Purple Demon Eyes laughed in the face of illusions.
So Zeldris stopped advancing. Hands behind his back. Casual. Calm. Slightly smug.
Itachi, anwhile, kept a sharp eye on him and spoke in his usual tone of cool indifference:
"I don’t know what kind of jutsu you’re using... but—"
He suddenly closed his eyes.
Then—snap—opened them again.
The red gleam of his Sharingan flared as the pattern began to swirl and shift...
From the standard triple tomoe to the unmistakable shape of a Mangekyō Sharingan.
"Let’s see if you’re still ’immune’ to these eyes."
His trump card was out. The big one. Mangekyō Sharingan—his pride and weapon of choice.
Zeldris? Not even blinking. Just tilted his head and smiled like soone watching a kid try to fight Wi-Fi issues with a katana.
"You really don’t get it, do you? I said it’s useless—"
But Itachi wasn’t buying it. In his mind, Zeldris was bluffing.
Nobody just shrugs off Tsukuyomi. Nobody.
He took a breath, locked eyes with Zeldris, and then—
"Tsukuyomi!"
The ultimate illusion.
An instant later... absolutely nothing happened.
Zeldris just... stared back.
Itachi blinked. Once. Twice. His inner voice scread: Where’s the shift? Where’s the ntal torture realm?!
Nothing.
"...?!"
Zeldris didn’t even flinch. No ti distortion. No visual warping. Just... blinking purple eyes and mild amusent.
"What’s the matter?" Zeldris asked innocently.
"Did you drop your illusion mid-cast? That’s embarrassing."
Itachi’s calm facade cracked for just a second.
Did... did his Tsukuyomi just fail?!
That had never happened. Not once. Not even in training.
The technique was supposed to be foolproof—like a microwave popcorn button.
Zeldris leaned in slightly, smirking like soone who’d just watched a magician ss up a trick.
"What’s wrong?"
"The legendary Uchiha Itachi making that face? This is a collector’s mont."
Itachi stood frozen.
He’d just t soone whose eyes broke his illusion.
Soone more irritating than the guy who claid to be Uchiha Madara.
Have I been underestimating him this whole ti? Itachi wondered.
This wasn’t just "mysterious strong guy" territory. This was major Konoha-threat levels of danger.
While he was deep in thought, Zeldris spoke again:
"Listen, Itachi. If you don’t want to join my organization, I won’t twist your arm."
He paused.
"But if you do join, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.Including... that masked weirdo you’ve been chasing."
That hit the nerve.
Itachi’s eyes widened slightly. He knows?!
Zeldris grinned wider. "Yup. That’s the one."
Just then—whoop-whoop-whoop—a distortion ripple appeared in the space nearby.
A swirling vortex opened up like so cosmic drain unclogging itself.
And out stepped a figure in a black cloak, slowly erging like the late arrival to a very awkward dinner party.
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