Chapter 392: Already Regretting It

The air still seemed to carry the scorching heat and aura of destruction left behind by the rampaging torrents of energy. Beneath their feet, the earth itself seemed to be silently convulsing and crying out in agony.

This world was like a patient who had been brutally operated on, nearly torn apart, and then carelessly abandoned—barely clinging to life.

Hagoromo's eyes trembled violently despite himself.

Within his newly awakened Rinnegan flashed a trace of wavering and pain that even he himself failed to notice.

But that hesitation was quickly replaced by an even firmer, almost obsessive resolve.

He steadied himself and spoke in a calm, resolute voice, as though making a vow to both himself and the world.

"No. We were not wrong. Stopping Mother was necessary."

"As for this world... I will spend the rest of my life restoring it. I will bring order to the chaotic natural energy, heal the wounds of the land, and guide the flow of chakra... Little by little, I will help it recover."

His voice was filled with an unquestionable sense of responsibility, as though he were trying to paint a future worth looking forward to after this bitter victory.

Hamura, however, shook his head grimly. There was not the slightest sign of comfort in his eyes—only an even deeper despair.

"It can't be restored, Brother... It never can be."

His voice was low, but every word clearly laid bare the cruel reality.

"Can't you feel it? The natural energy of this world has been completely thrown into chaos by our battle with Mother. It has been corrupted—it's even nearing depletion!"

"It no longer circulates peacefully. It has become violent, raging currents of energy... or simply vanished altogether!"

"This world... is thousands, tens of thousands of times worse than it was before the war!"

"Its ability to heal itself has completely failed in the face of this catastrophe! Left to itself, it will never return to what it once was!"

Hamura's words were like an icy scalpel, mercilessly cutting open the fatal wound hidden beneath the skin of their "victory."

Hagoromo fell silent at once.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he offered no response.

Because he knew that everything his younger brother had said was an undeniable fact.

His Rinnegan and senjutsu-enhanced perception told him more clearly than anyone just how grievously—and perhaps irreparably—the very foundation of this world had been wounded.

This so-called "salvation" had prevented one form of destruction, only to personally bring about another—one that might prove even more complicated and difficult to overcome.

Seeing the silent, somber profile of his older brother, the confusion and emptiness in Hamura's heart only grew heavier.

He stared blankly at the devastated, lifeless earth before him. It was as though he were speaking to himself, yet also questioning the unseen hand of fate.

"Brother... I understand less and less now..."

"We kept saying that we wanted to save the world, that we had to stop Mother from destroying it... We gave up so much. Brothers turned against one another, family fought family, and our convictions were put through endless torment..."

His voice was filled with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

"But what was the result? Because of our battle, this world has become... even more ruined, more desolate, and more hopeless than it was under Mother's rule."

"Perhaps fewer than one in a hundred living beings survived."

"Of the humans and other forms of life that once lived and multiplied under Mother's 'peace'... how many are still alive?"

"And how many of them can still find a way to survive in this wasteland, where energy rages out of control and the very landscape has been transformed?"

"All those sacrifices, all that fighting... and these ruins before us..."

At last, Hamura turned to look at Hagoromo. His eyes were filled with a confusion and pain so profound that neither could be dispelled.

"Was it really... worth it?"

The question struck Hagoromo's heart with crushing weight.

He stood there for a long time, like a silent statue.

The night wind whipped through his bloodstained, tattered robes with a mournful rustle.

Finally, a heavy sigh escaped his throat, as though it carried the weight of the entire shattered world.

His voice was filled with indescribable exhaustion and struggle, along with an almost instinctive determination to cling to the path he had chosen.

"Hamura... what's done is done."

"Whether we were right or wrong... there's no point arguing about it now. We can't undo what has already happened."

He looked at his brother, trying to draw his gaze toward that distant, intangible thing called the future.

"What we can do... is not dwell on the past, on right and wrong, or on regret. We have to keep moving forward. We can only look ahead."

He paused, raising his voice slightly, as though emphasizing the one thing—the sole prize of their struggle—that still allowed him to carry on.

"Besides... at the very least, the shinobi world will no longer be controlled and sacrificed by a ruler who stands above all others and sees every living being as insignificant!"

"It should belong to everyone who lives here—the survivors, and all the lives yet to be born. They should be allowed to decide their own future and write their own destiny!"

"That is the meaning of our fight! It is the most precious thing we gained at the cost we were forced to pay!"

Hagoromo's words shone with idealism and an unwavering belief in freedom.

Amid the ruins and his own self-doubt, it was the last—and strongest—pillar he had left to support himself.

Hamura listened quietly.

After a long while, he finally murmured in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

"Is that so...?"

He neither argued fiercely nor expressed agreement.

He merely nodded faintly, noncommittally.

Yet the deep confusion in his pale, once-clear and resolute eyes remained like an impenetrable mist. So too did the lingering uncertainty—and faint pessimism—he felt toward his brother's vision of the future.

And what makes you so sure that you won't become a dictator yourself?

The two brothers stood amid the ruins of the world. In one pair of eyes burned the determined fire of rebuilding and creating a new future; in the other lingered a fog of doubt over the price they had paid and uncertainty about what lay ahead.

Together, they had brought an era to an end. Yet together, they now bore the nearly unbearable legacy left behind by that era's collapse.

Above the ruins, the cold wind howled mournfully.

After a long silence, Hamura—who had remained quiet for so long—suddenly spoke again.

His voice was as faint as a breeze that could scatter at any moment, yet every word carried a heavy, inescapable regret as it fell upon the silent wasteland.

"Brother..."

"I don't know whether that peace and hope you speak of—the kind where everyone decides their own future—will ever truly come. Perhaps one day, it really will appear, as beautiful as you imagine it..."

He paused, as though it took every ounce of strength he possessed to speak the words that followed.

"But... I..."

"I already regret it."

"We... shouldn't have treated Mother this way."

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