Chapter 56 The Crumbling Veil of Mist

The room had grown tense, the once speculative glances of the Uchiha clansmen now replaced with furrowed brows and steely gazes. Kaito stood at the center, his back straight, the weight of his lineage settling upon his shoulders like a royal mantle. The flickering candles cast long, eerie shadows across the stone walls, adding an ominous undertone to the proceedings.

There was something about the way Kaito spoke, with such certainty, that sent a shiver down the spine of each clansman present.

He had spoken of power before, the necessity of it, the cold truth of their world. Now, Kaito would deliver a revelation that would shake their very understanding of the ninja world.

"You all remember the rumors of the Mist Village," Kaito began, his voice low but firm, a deep resonance that commanded attention. "A nation shrouded in mystery, cut off from the rest of the world. A place that bred bloodshed as if it were part of their very nature. The Blood Mist."

The mention of the Blood Mist sent a ripple through the room. Some exchanged wary glances; others shifted uncomfortably, the mere memory of the village's reputation enough to make the atmosphere feel heavy, suffocating. The name alone invoked images of terror—of blood-soaked fields where children were forced to kill their comrades just to survive.

But it wasn't just fear. No, there was something more—a creeping dread, a sense of something foul festering in the shadows, unseen but always present. Like the Mist itself, the truth had been hidden, shrouded in secrecy, until now.

"You've heard the stories. The tales of their strength during the Third Great Ninja War, when their forces were feared across the continents." Kaito's voice grew sharper, more intense. "But I am here to tell you that the Mist Village you fear no longer exists."

A soft, collective gasp filled the room, followed by an uneasy silence. It was hard to believe. Mist Village had always been a pillar of power, a nation as feared as it was respected. Now, Kaito stood before them, telling them that all of that—all of it—was an illusion.

One clansman, his voice hesitant, spoke up. "But… how can that be true? We've heard nothing of their downfall. No word of any weakness or collapse."

Kaito's gaze found the speaker, his eyes dark and piercing, a predator's focus. He took a deliberate step forward, the sound of his boots echoing in the now silent room. Thud. Thud. Thud. "That's exactly what they want you to believe," he said coldly. "The Mist has isolated itself for a reason. They have hidden their decay, their ruin, behind a veil of silence."

The clansman swallowed, his unease evident. Others murmured quietly, but there was no protest. It was as if a shadow had passed over the room, an invisible force that gripped their throats with cold, skeletal fingers. They could feel it, creeping at the edges of their consciousness—the truth Kaito was about to reveal.

"What you all don't know," Kaito continued, his voice barely above a whisper now, forcing them to hang on his every word, "is that the Mist has been tearing itself apart for years. From the inside."

A soft murmur spread through the crowd, but Kaito didn't let it grow. "The masked man you all saw last night, claiming to be Uchiha Madara, was not who he appeared to be."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the very mention of the masked figure dredging up the unsettling memories of the previous night. His presence had been like an unnatural weight, a darkness that pressed on them all.

"His true identity is Uchiha Obito."

The name sent a shockwave through the room. Gasps erupted, some of the clansmen visibly recoiling, wide-eyed, their mouths opening in disbelief.

"Obito?" one voice exclaimed, barely able to process the information. "The one who fell at Kannabi Bridge? But… that's impossible! He's—"

"Dead?" Kaito finished for him, his expression hard. "So we were all led to believe. But the truth is far darker. He survived, but he was no longer the boy who once fought beside Kakashi Hatake. He became something else. A twisted remnant of his former self, consumed by hatred and grief."

A cold silence swept through the room, like a frigid wind crawling through their very bones. Some shifted uneasily, others clenched their fists, struggling to reconcile the revelation with what they thought they knew.

"Obito controlled the Mist Village from the shadows," Kaito pressed on, his voice dripping with a quiet intensity. "He manipulated their Fourth Mizukage, Yagura, like a puppet, forcing him to enact the Blood Mist Policy—a policy that drove the village into madness. Families turned on each other, bloodline clans were hunted to extinction, and the very lifeblood of the Mist was drained in endless, senseless slaughter."

The words Blood Mist Policy echoed in the chamber, filling it with a dark, foreboding weight. Kaito's voice dropped lower, colder. "Entire clans wiped out. Thousands of shinobi killed by their own comrades, forced to fight in brutal civil wars, all orchestrated by Obito from the shadows. Their strength didn't grow—it withered. They became their own undoing."

A chilling silence settled over the room. The once stoic expressions of the clansmen were replaced with a growing horror. This was not the Mist they had feared—it was something far more grotesque. A village that had turned its blade inward, slicing at its own throat while the world watched, ignorant.

Kaito's eyes glittered with fierce determination, his confidence unwavering. "Do you understand now?" he asked, his voice rising ever so slightly. "The Mist is a husk of its former self. Their once-glorious shinobi forces have been whittled down to nothing. I suspect they barely have three thousand left."

Another stunned silence followed. The once mighty Mist, reduced to this? It seemed almost impossible.

One of the younger Uchiha, his voice filled with uncertainty, spoke up. "But even if they've lost so much… isn't it still risky? We are only a few hundred strong…"

Kaito turned to him, his gaze softening for just a moment. "I understand your fear. But remember who you are. You are Uchiha. We are not just another clan. We possess the power to shape this world, to bend it to our will. The Mist is crumbling, and we will be the ones to crush what remains beneath our heel."

He took a step forward, his presence dominating the room, his voice rising with fervor. "This is not just a battle. This is the first step in reclaiming what is rightfully ours. We will take the Mist, not just for territory, but to send a message to the entire ninja world: The Uchiha are done waiting. We are done watching from the sidelines."

The clansmen shifted, a new energy stirring within them. They weren't mindless followers—Kaito knew that. He could feel their doubt, their hesitance, the lingering fear in their hearts. But he also knew that beneath it all, the fire of the Uchiha still burned.

One of the older clansmen, his voice laced with both admiration and concern, stood up. "Kaito, you speak with great confidence. But do we really have the strength to pull this off? If we strike and fail…"

Kaito met his gaze, his expression unyielding. "We won't fail. I've never embarked on a mission without absolute certainty in our success." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "I have a plan. And once I explain it, you'll see that the Mist's fate is already sealed."

The older man nodded slowly, the spark of doubt fading from his eyes. Others in the room began to follow, their fear giving way to something stronger—determination.

Kaito's lips curled into a dark, confident smile. "This is our time. We will take the Land of Water. We will tear down the Mist's illusion of strength. And from there, the rest of the ninja world will follow."

His words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and undeniable. The clansmen exchanged glances, their doubts dissolving under the force of Kaito's vision. They were ready now—ready to take that first step toward their destiny.

The Mist would fall. The Uchiha would rise. And the world would never be the same again.