Although Uchiha Mikoto's strength did surprise Ichiro a little, everything was still well within his control.
Even if she had elite jōnin-level strength, it wouldn't matter. No one in the Uchiha Clan could escape his grasp now—not when he was the strongest among them.
"Mikoto, you know what I'm capable of. If I wanted your grandfather dead, it wouldn't be difficult."
"As a staunch supporter of Fugaku, your grandfather is naturally my enemy. I've already been considering eliminating him. What do you think—should I go through with it?"
He looked like a noble gentleman, but his words were like a devil's whisper in Mikoto's ears.
"My grandfather is the Great Elder. You wouldn't dare touch him."
"I already killed the clan head indirectly. Do you really think I wouldn't dare kill an old man?"
Ichiro's words shattered the last shred of hope Mikoto had been clinging to.
According to her grandfather, Gen's sudden death from internal injuries was no coincidence—and it was absolutely related to Ichiro.
Her grandfather was old. Even in his prime, he might not have been able to stand against Ichiro, much less now.
If Ichiro dared kill the clan head, then killing the Great Elder would be nothing to him.
Suddenly, Ichiro released Mikoto and turned his back on her.
"I'll give you ten seconds to decide. After that, I'll leave. I'm not someone who enjoys forcing others."
A bald-faced lie if there ever was one—Ichiro could lie with a straight face better than anyone.
Still, this wasn't the time to let her think too long. He had to cut the knot with a sharp blade.
"Ten… nine… eight… seven… two… one."
Just as Ichiro stepped forward to leave, Mikoto grabbed his hand.
Ichiro grinned—an unrestrained, wicked smile.
"…I'll agree."
Tears welled at the corners of Mikoto's eyes. She looked pitiful, heart-wrenching—enough to make a softer man hesitate.
But Ichiro? He had a heart of stone. There was no way he would let her go.
He lifted Mikoto into his arms and carried her into her room.
The paper screen slid shut with a quiet click.
Inside, Ichiro was no longer patient.
He wasn't kind.
He wasn't gentle.
He pinned her down with the same commanding presence he held over the Uchiha clan, his Sharingan spinning faintly beneath narrowed eyes. Mikoto resisted—once, twice—but she already knew she had no chance of stopping him. The fear in her eyes mixed with shame and something unspoken.
She tried to turn her head, to look away, but Ichiro caught her chin again and forced her gaze back to him.
"You agreed. I'm just collecting my reward."
"You're a monster…" she whispered.
"And you knew that before you opened the door."
When her black kimono slipped from her shoulders, revealing pale, trembling skin, Ichiro didn't even hesitate. He leaned down, breath brushing the curve of her neck, fingers trailing across her waist like cold fire.
Each motion was deliberate—possessive.
It wasn't just desire that drove him.
It was domination.
Control.
He didn't just want Mikoto's body—he wanted her sense of power to vanish under his hands. To see her pride fracture, her sense of duty bend, until all that remained was obedience.
What followed wasn't love.
It was conquest.
And Mikoto, for all her pride, gave in—if only to protect her last living family member.
When it was over, Ichiro stood at the threshold of the door, fully dressed and calm as ever.
Behind him, Mikoto sat on the futon, half-covered in the disheveled bedding, her hair a mess, lips trembling. Her eyes no longer met his.
She held her arms tightly around herself.
He looked over his shoulder, smirking faintly.
An hour later, Ichiro emerged, fully dressed.
Mikoto followed him, fists clenched tightly. Her gait was clearly unsteady.
"Don't forget what you promised," she said tiredly. "Don't hurt my grandfather."
Since childhood, her parents had been gone. Her grandfather had raised her—he was her only family.
"We'll see… Depends on how you behave from now on," Ichiro replied coldly. "Your performance today wasn't exactly satisfying."
Though Mikoto was beautiful, she hadn't exactly been cooperative—so Ichiro wasn't too thrilled.
"You—" Mikoto tried to speak, but Ichiro had already walked away without another word.
"What… am I supposed to do now?"
Mikoto wiped away her tears, completely at a loss.
She'd lost the one thing most precious to her. What happened today went against everything she believed in.
And her identity—how was she supposed to face Fugaku now?
Marriage was no longer possible.
Ichiro didn't know what kind of storm raged in Mikoto's heart—nor did he care. He lived for strength, not emotion.
"System, report my gains again."
The system had already notified him once during the act, but Ichiro had been too busy to pay attention.
[Ding! Congratulations, host. You've obtained: Mangekyō Sharingan. Evil Points +50,000]
"Damn—this much?!"
The reward left Ichiro stunned.
Even extorting one billion ryō from Gen hadn't yielded anywhere near this kind of gain.
He had just acquired the one thing he wanted most—the Mangekyō Sharingan. And with it, fifty thousand Evil Points.
Taking Mikoto had given him far more than he'd expected. The immense power surging in his eyes now was proof it wasn't a dream.
"I wonder what my Mangekyō abilities are? System, extract the reward."
A cooling energy surged into his eyes, followed by a sharp burst of pain—quick, but intense.
The pain faded swiftly, replaced by a tide of terrifying power. His ocular strength now dwarfed his previous three-tomoe Sharingan.
Not only that—his chakra reserves had expanded dramatically.
He had been a step away from Kage-level. Now, he'd crossed that threshold completely.
Ichiro was now, without question, a Kage-tier shinobi. With the Mangekyō, his combat power was easily among the strongest of his level.
"My right eye's ability is… Tsukuyomi? But my left eye… that's something terrifying."
His right eye had awakened Tsukuyomi—a powerful genjutsu that trapped the victim in an illusionary world where the caster controlled time, space, and perception.
Simply making eye contact would trigger it—nearly impossible to defend against.
But the left eye?
Time Stop.
A technique that could freeze time itself, the duration depending on the amount of chakra and ocular power used.
It was nearly invincible—its only flaw was the immense energy cost.
And aside from those two unique techniques, just having the Mangekyō meant he could now use Susanoo.
A godlike ability known for its destructive power. Legend said that those who had witnessed it rarely lived to tell the tale.
"This is too good. Thank you, Mikoto."
What Ichiro desired most was control. The power to dominate everything. Compared to that, women, money, and status were all secondary.
For nineteen years since transmigrating into this world, he had focused entirely on training chakra. He hadn't even touched a woman—until now.
Mikoto was the first.
"Still… even with the Mangekyō and my breakthrough to Kage-level, it's not enough."
The Mangekyō had one fatal flaw—overuse would eventually lead to blindness.
To overcome that, he needed the Eternal Mangekyō Sharingan.
But the only way to obtain it was through transplanting a sibling's Mangekyō.
Ichiro had no siblings. No true family at all.
So his only hope was the system.
Until he evolved his eyes further, he would have to use the Mangekyō sparingly.