With the unwavering resolve of a true warrior, Uchiha Madara began his long hunt across Hueco Mundo.
He continued adapting to the Reiatsu within his Hollow body, refining his ability to manipulate it as a substitute for chakra. Although his current Reiatsu was still weak, and he could only reliably cast the Great Fireball Technique, that alone was sufficient for now.
At this stage, he remained on the outskirts of Hueco Mundo, where only the lowest forms of Hollows roamed—weak, mindless creatures, driven purely by instinct. No matter how large or menacing they appeared, to Uchiha Madara, they were nothing more than ants.
His tall, shrouded figure flashed across the endless expanse of ashen sand. He wasn't wandering blindly—his newly attuned spiritual senses were weak, but sharp enough to detect nearby presences. He was actively hunting, seeking prey to feed his growing power.
Days passed.
With time, Madara's control over his Hollow body improved drastically. The initial manifestation of Susanoo had begun to stabilize. Though still in its early skeletal form, it was taking a humanoid shape—proof that his spiritual strength was solidifying. Even in this strange world, Madara remained destined for greatness.
Yet, power invited danger.
His unusual spiritual pressure and humanoid appearance made him a magnet for other Hollows. Unlike the faceless masses, he was different—a Hollow with form, power, and presence. The moment they saw him, a primal instinct overtook them: "If I devour him, I will become stronger."
But instincts meant nothing against overwhelming force.
One by one, they fell—obliterated without effort.
Three days blurred together.
By now, Madara had lost count of how many Hollows he'd slain and consumed. Each one added a sliver of Reiatsu to his core. Even if the gains were minuscule, they accumulated—like drops forming a river.
More importantly, the consistent consumption had begun to yield concrete results.
His Reiatsu surged, and with it, his finesse. Not only had his control over his spiritual energy improved, but he had also regained several more Fire Style jutsu—Phoenix Fire Technique, Fire Dragon Flame Bullet, and Blazing Ash Cloud—all of them restructured through Reiatsu, not chakra.
Most significant of all, however, was the unexpected boon of absorbed memories.
Some Hollows carried remnants of experiences from before their minds dissolved into instinct. Through devouring them, Madara glimpsed fragments of knowledge. From one such Hollow, he saw something unforgettable: a fleeting image of a Menos Grande—specifically, a Gillian-class Menos, the lowest but still overwhelmingly powerful tier of the Menos species.
That glimpse changed everything.
Even the memory of standing before a Gillian evoked dread. It radiated colossal Reiatsu, dwarfing anything Madara had encountered thus far. That particular Hollow had managed to escape a Gillian's pursuit, and its memory of the event—now part of Madara—revealed a critical truth:
A Hollow that consumes hundreds of others may eventually evolve into a Menos Grande.
That revelation opened a door in Madara's mind. If ordinary Hollows could evolve through consumption, then so could he. And given the speed of his current hunting rate, his own evolution into a Menos Grande was no longer a distant fantasy—it was inevitable.
More than just power, such an evolution might also trigger transformations in his abilities. His Sharingan, still at the One Tomoe stage, could mature with enhanced spiritual energy. His Susanoo, too, would change—perhaps becoming fully armored, or even surpassing its original form through the fusion of Hollow and Uchiha power.
This was what Madara truly craved.
Driven by the desire to evolve into a Gillian, Madara pressed onward into the sands, his gaze locked with purpose.
Somewhere beneath the scorching twin moons of Hueco Mundo—
ROAR!
A harsh, guttural howl shattered the silence.
Five grotesque Hollows emerged, clawed and bestial, their eyes devoid of reason but filled with hunger. They stood before Madara, snarling with primal hostility.
Madara narrowed his eye, unimpressed.
"Mindless beasts… All instinct, no thought. Even the Tailed Beasts in the shinobi world had personalities. Compared to them, you're nothing."
With a flash, he vanished from view—his speed now nearly imperceptible.
He reappeared directly in front of them, hands weaving through precise seal patterns.
"Si - Wei - Shen - Hai - Wu - Yin!"
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
Reiatsu surged into his throat like magma. A fiery orb exploded from his mouth—a massive sphere of compressed heat and spiritual power, streaking toward the five with annihilating force.
Boom!
The fireball struck with the power of a volcanic eruption. It burst into a pillar of flames, engulfing the Hollows in a torrent of blistering heat. Even as they sensed death approaching, their sluggish reflexes betrayed them.
They didn't stand a chance.
Their shrieks of agony echoed, only to be drowned by the roaring blaze.
This wasn't a battle. This was a massacre.
Uchiha Madara, reborn as a Hollow, remained as unstoppable as ever. His superiority was absolute. There was no blood, no glory—only the quiet certainty of power that crushed anything beneath it.
As the flames died down, five charred corpses collapsed, their forms crumbling into ash on the pale desert floor.
Madara stepped forward, unimpressed. His eye scanned their remains with disinterest. Just as he prepared to absorb their remnants, a thunderous roar echoed across the horizon.
It was unlike anything he'd heard in this world—deeper, vaster, charged with dense Reiatsu that prickled across his skin like static.
Madara froze.
"This sound…"
For a moment, his mind was silent. Then recognition struck him like lightning.
That roar.
He'd heard it before—not with his own ears, but within the absorbed memory of the Hollow who had fled.
His Sharingan widened, blazing with sudden clarity.
Menos Grande.
Gillian.
And it was coming this way.
Madara's lips slowly curled into a smile—not of arrogance, but of excitement. This was the challenge he had been waiting for.