The secret is to listen.

Listen to your chakra. It sings of the soul.

Listen to your soul. It speaks to the world.

Listen to the world. What is it you hear now?

Snake-summoner. Sannin. Seal master. Whisperer. Orochimaru had been called many names, lauded with many titles. But one stood out above all others.

Genius.

For one whose life’s goal was to know everything there was to learn, such a title pleased him beyond measure. The only problem was, Orochimaru knew deep down that he didn’t deserve that title. Not really. ‘Genius’ was better reserved for people like Tobirama Senju and… and as much as it physically hurt to admit it, Minato Namikaze.

No, Orochimaru wasn’t a genius. He just listened better than other people.

Today, be a good listener. Tomorrow, you’ll be a good student, Sarutobi Hiruzen used to say.

Regardless of his differences with the man on a personal level, Orochimaru held tremendous respect for The Professor’s wisdom, a moniker he more than earned.

And today, he needed that bit of wisdom more than ever. For today was finally the day of his ascension.

He took a step back and carefully observed the setup in front of him.

The boy was drugged and unconscious on a raised platform, his entire body bound to the several arms of the mighty contraption built for that purpose. He’d been stripped bare, not a single piece of cloth adorning him. The experiment didn’t really have any chance of being hindered by organic materials, but modesty was no reason to entertain an easily avoidable risk.

He glanced at the boy’s belly, at the ornately designed seal that had been placed there by Namikaze mere moments before his demise.

An Eight-Trigrams seal.

A piece of fuinjutsu that was used as the basis for trapping the nigh-invincible sapient creatures known as the tailed beasts. A weapon that allowed mere shinobi to conquer titans that could destroy the world on a whim. And yet, for all its worth, it was imperfect.

Limited.

For one, these seals were designed to keep the tailed beasts in. They weren’t meant to serve as makeshift generators that used the near-infinite power of those monstrosities to create a limitless chakra-battery for their hosts. The more a host drew from the tailed beast’s power, the more the seal loosened. And in time, the tailed beast would eventually escape— a situation that only ever ended with immense carnage.

But also, humans were naturally emotional creatures. When faced with desperation, it was instinct for any human to seek the aid of an external power to better the odds. Such cases often caused tailed beast hosts to lose control and channel too much power from their tailed-beasts. To prevent that from happening, most hosts were kept under house arrest for the majority of their lives, content with the knowledge that their life was being sacrificed for the good of the village.

It was why these hosts were aptly named jinchuuriki— the power of human sacrifice.

There was a reason, after all, why Mito Uzumaki— feared as one of the greatest kunoichi hailing from the Uzumaki —had been reduced to a homely housewife after becoming the jinchuuriki of the nine-tailed fox.

There was a reason why Kushina, despite being one of the top jounins in Konoha, had never been sent out on anything above A-rank mission difficulty. And even then, she was always secretly monitored by multiple ANBU at all times.

And then Minato Namikaze, a civilian-born shinobi, had upset the table. His ingenious combination of the sheer power of the Shiki Fujin— a fuinjutsu that evoked the powers of the Shinigami himself — and a modified Eight-Trigrams seal, had resulted in the creation of the one thing believed to be impossible across the Elemental Nations.

A perfect jinchuuriki.

To be fair, there remained a decreasing health factor caused by prolonged use of the Kyuubi’s chakra for active regeneration, but Orochimaru had already worked a way around the issue.

“Really Namikaze,” he found himself murmuring, “if only had I recognized your potential back then… things would have been so different. We could have achieved great things together.”

Orochimaru glanced at Namikaze’s child, his lips twisting into a grin.

“I’ve finally completed your unfinished legacy, Minato. You and I have created the perfect jinchuuriki.”

He frowned.

“It’s a pity that you decided to give him to the village. To the old monkey and that old warhawk. One would cuddle him to uselessness, and the other would try to break him from within. Between the two, your child would never reach the zenith of his potential.”

He paused briefly.

“But talent always recognizes genius, Namikaze.” Orochimaru’s tone was almost hypnotic now. “You paved a new road, but lost your life before its forging was complete. It’s taken me thirteen long years, but I’ve finally reached it. Now the forging— our creation —will be complete.”

Something terrible shone in his eyes.

“You gave your village a savior. I’ll turn it into a god.”

He took a step back, pinning the nearby medics with a sharp gaze. “Everything is ready. Start the assimilation program. I want no complications.”

“Yes sir!” they replied in haste, rushing in and out to gather their tools to begin. Soon, they were drawing the new seal on the plate to be inscribed and assimilated into the jinchuuriki’s body.

A pre-drawn seal would have been easier, but far less effective. The substrate for the ink had been harvested from a vitreous liquid found in the eyes of the serpents at Ryuchi Cave. Such substances tended to lose their potency very quickly, and as such, needed to be freshly prepared. The plate itself was a fusion of scales taken from the serpent’s hood.

Garaga and I will likely never see eye to eye again.

The act had been distasteful, but a necessary evil nonetheless. Garaga wasn’t as strong as Manda, but his innate capacity for Senjutsu far exceeded the latter’s. It made his body a far superior absorber of natural energy— exactly what he needed for his project to succeed.

Orochimaru grinned.

He watched as the seal was meticulously drawn across the boy’s body. And by god, it was perfect. All those hours of constant and diligent practice finally paid off.

The threat of losing a finger for each error probably helped as well.

Soon, the engraving was complete.

The contraption surrounding the boy expanded out, allowing the new plate to slide into place. The liquid shone brightly, activating the seal matrix by filling it with ambient natural energy.

The boy’s eyes flickered open, and almost immediately, he began to scream.

Orochimaru took a step back, his heart beginning to beat faster.

He could already tell.

This...

This was going to be his magnum opus.

Once the assimilation was over, his creation would finally be complete.

A host of the Demon would eventually become a demon.

It was a truth that Tayuya had discovered when the pact was first forged, marking her as the next host for the Demon God.

Holding the mantle of a priestess of Mōryō bestowed a blessing and a curse in the form of a unique eldritch power, one that allowed them to transcend beyond the limits of mortality. For some, it would be the absolute mastery of an element. For others, it was control over that which couldn't be seen.

For Tayuya, it was Sound.

Ever since she'd adorned the mantle of Priestess, sound had ceased to be a weapon to be used in battle. It had become a part of her. Like an organ. Genjutsu preyed upon the mind, but music played upon the soul.

Like every other priest before her, she could summon the exceptionally powerful slaves that served the great Demon.

The Oni.

But unlike them, the Oni were hers. Not just to summon, but to command.

It was a secret that she had told no one. Not even Lord Orochimaru.

Besides, using Moryo’s power came at a price.

A terrible cost, but one she was more than willing to pay if it meant getting to Naruto. Tayuya smiled, serenely ignoring the horrific pain that was ravaging her mind.

And then it happened.

A deathly aura descended upon the castle, an all-consuming feeling of rage and bloodlust backed by power as unyielding as a mountain. It was a terrible sensation, akin to the primal fear experienced by a rabbit surrounded by a pack of ravenous wolves.

A moment passed, and then he materialized.

It was just as she remembered.

The same pearly white necklace of skulls adorned his chest, contrasting against his dark crimson skin and ten-foot-tall frame. Thick locks of black hair fell down to his waist, his muscles thicker than tree trunks and powerful enough to level a building merely by flexing. The monster held a bloodied axe, crafted out of a strange golden metal unknown to shinobi lands, and the only pieces of attire on his entire form were a large waist-guard and a pair of metallic bracelets.

Tayuya let slip the monstrosity’s name from her lips.

“Zaraba.”

Guren, who stood with a supremely confident smirk mere moments ago, was now in a defensive stance, her countenance colored with apprehension and— if she read it correctly —fear. Already, crystals of all shapes and sizes sprouted out from the very ground, ready to be used against this new adversary at a moment’s notice.

“You….” A sneer marred the warden’s lips. “You think that some mindless summon,” she momentarily glanced at Zaraba, “will be enough to save you from me?”

Several dozen kunai manifested mid-air, all of them targeting Tayuya.

Zaraba hefted his ax and swung.

It was almost like a haze of… something had suddenly permeated in the area. One moment, scores of kunai were shooting towards Tayuya, aimed at every inch of her visible form. Sharp enough to cut through her flesh with ease. Strong enough to shatter her bones on impact.

None of them reached her.

“Wha— How?!”

The shock on Guren’s face was priceless. She couldn’t even blame her, really. Anyone who could pulverize an entire barrage of crystals faster than the eye could track was something to be afraid of.

Zaraba yawned.

“You were saying, bitch?” Tayuya grinned madly, ignoring the throbbing pain in her temples.

Guren bared her teeth. Obviously, the woman hadn’t expected things to turn out this way. Then again, this was only the second time she had summoned Zaraba. The first time had been during the massacre of the Land of Demons, and nobody knew who or what caused that destruction.

After all, dead men told no tales.

Tayuya could already feel the corruption slowly trickling its way into her psyche like it always did. It seared through her like a branding iron, making her mind submit and lose itself to the torment as a primal instinct of fear consumed her, making her want to curl into a ball and scream. Soon, it would make her forget her reasons for summoning the Oni, fanning her bloodlust and turning her into a raging storm that left nothing but wanton destruction in its wake.

Just like before.

And yet, she embraced it anyway.

Because she had no other choice. She needed to save Naruto, and Guren was just the beginning. Another man, one far more dangerous and terrifying than the blue-haired bitch, stood between her and Naruto.

Lord Orochimaru.

And the man was many things, but unprepared wasn’t one of them. She needed to pull out all the stops if she even wanted a chance to walk out of this alive.

Her decision was made.

“Kill that cunt,” Tayuya growled.

Zaraba stepped forward and roared. It was a grating, metallic sound, like someone dragged a smoldering mass of iron across the floor. It fit him perfectly. After all, the one element that the Oni knew better than anything was fire.

Vengeful, accursed fire.

The Oni did not charge into combat. It walked. Striding forward like an indomitable giant, it easily shouldered the barrage of crystal spears that came raining down from the other end. Guren was constantly creating sharp spears and kunai and any other kinds of weapon she could think of, all of them aimed to pierce Zaraba's skin.

Most of them just shattered upon impact.

The ones that did stick, however, Zaraba merely shrugged them off, the waves of heat rolling off him causing them to slowly fracture and turn to dust. The accursed flames burned malevolently as the monster walked towards an apprehensive Guren, who was now trying to crystallize the very air itself.

It was useless. The ax moved at speeds incomprehensible to the human eye. It didn’t matter how many crystallized weapons Guren sent towards him. They all met the same fate.

Every swing from the massive infernal ax in its hand destroyed anything Guren sent with complete abandon. The heavy weapon belched dark crimson flames wherever it struck. It left no residue, emanated no heat. All it did was consume whatever came within its grasp, not even leaving soot in its wake. Zaraba laughed and laughed cruelly as he kept on slicing and shattering every single of Guren’s pathetic attempts, brushing them away like mere toys.

“Your crystals mean nothing, fuckface,” Tayuya snarled, leaning on the nearby wall doing her best to shut out the pounding headache that was overwhelming her senses. “Give up or URR-KKKK!”

Tayuya stared blankly at the thin wooden arrow that bypassed her protector and tore through the back of her left hand, painting the floor a dull crimson.

Naruto, she thought desperately as she collapsed onto the ground, her head pounding in agony.

The thing she recalled before drifting away was the sound of Zaraba’s roar.

His lungs were on fire.

As someone who was treated like a porcelain doll his entire life, Naruto was unaccustomed to the concept of pain— or, at least, pain as any shinobi knew it. Those white-coats had injected some kind of liquid into his body, making him feel a bit funny in all sorts of places.

At first, it seemed like everything was fine.

His mounting anxiety and fear had mysteriously vanished. He had nearly giggled when the medics had placed those weird-looking contraptions over his belly. The bargain he struck with the Master was shaping up to be a good idea, and he couldn’t wait to tell Tayuya that they could stay together.

And then, out of nowhere, pain ravaged his body.

It was negligible at first, but then it grew and grew over time, as if his entire being was compressed in all sorts of ways while his innards were being pulled inside out. Naruto screamed in agony as those contraptions seemed to engrave something into his body.

A large leaden weight fell into his belly, and now it was trying to tear him apart from the inside. His mind slowly eroded, surrendering to the pain of the torment as his vision slowly faded.

And then, all that was left was darkness.

…

…

…

“—mikaze?”

…

“Namikaze?”

Is someone calling me?

Naruto looked around. There was nothing but darkness. He knew he had hands, but for some reason, he couldn’t see them. His belly ached and throbbed, but he couldn’t feel it. Where was his body? What was this place? What had—

“Open your eyes, Namikaze.”

This time, the voice sounded almost… annoyed.

Naruto blearily opened his eyes, only to quickly shut them again as a sharp brightness inundated his world. After several bouts of blinking, he managed to turn his head and stare into the thin, fang-like pupils of his Lord Orochimaru.

“...Master?”

“Congratulations are in order, Namikaze. You’re alive.”

“I— I’m—”

“Alive, yes,” the Master grinned, with true happiness upon his face. It was a rare sight, at least as far as Naruto knew. “And dare I say, you passed with flying colors. All we have left are a few more tests to conduct. It’ll be all over soon.”

“And then I’ll be free to—”

“Of course,” Orochimaru answered, the soft grin never leaving his face. “Once this is over, you’re free to go. In fact, you’ll likely never see me ever again.”

What does he—

“But first,” the Master continued, “get up. Tell me, are you feeling alright?”

Naruto scrunched his face, perplexed at the Master’s wildly excited behavior. The constant headache gnawing at the back of his mind made it difficult to fully concentrate on anything, but he figured he was mostly fine. Besides, there’d be lots of time to think when this was all over. When this was all done and—

“Focus,” Orochimaru’s voice chided, shaking him out of his reveries. “This experiment is going to be done in two stages. The first is using these pieces of paper,” the Master lifted up tiny strips of paper from the table next to them. “This is what we call chakra paper. Kabuto mentioned he taught you to feel your chakra. Is that correct?”

Naruto gave him a slow nod.

“We’re going to check your affinity. Now,” he handed him a single strip of chakra paper, “hold it, and channel your chakra through it. I’m told you are able to do so.”

Naruto bobbed his head again. Interestingly enough, he had also done this before with Tayuya, during one of their random conversations, when she had agreed to teach him how to channel his chakra. She explained the feeling to be like opening a pipe of sorts inside one’s body and allowing the chakra to trickle out.

Instead, what he felt back then was more like a tidal wave.

And Tayuya jerked back, shaking her head and muttering something about ‘freakishly abnormal chakra capacities’.

Glibly, Naruto held the strip of paper between his fingers, holding it far away from him and latching onto the very edge, as if to touch it as little as possible. He’d come this far, and he didn’t want anything to go wrong when he was so close to finally getting his freedom.

“Now, channel your chakra through the paper.”

Naruto reached for the chakra within him and allowed it to go… free.

The paper was sliced into two.

“Wind!” Orochimaru exclaimed with a burst of childlike laughter, clapping his hands. “I suppose you’re more like your father than your mother in that regard. Isn’t that right, Namikaze?”

“Wind,” Naruto repeated, tasting how the word sounded. According to the introductory book on nature transformation Mr. Yakushi gave him, Wind was one of the rarer elemental natures out there. And while it was technically possible to develop a second affinity, the general consensus agreed that Wind was an extremely difficult element to master unless you were born with it.

“My father had Wind chakra too?” It hurt to speak, but he knew the chance to learn about his parents might never come again.

“Wind and Lightning, actually,” the Master answered in a chipper tone. “Your father was one of those rare shinobi to be born with a dual affinity from birth, unlike the rest of us poor folk who were born with just one.”

And wasn’t that interesting? It seemed even the Master held Minato Namikaze in great respect. Naruto couldn’t help but wonder just who his father had been to have gained this much attention from the Master. His life may have been secluded, but even he knew that the Master was notorious and exalted among shinobi.

A king among killers.

“Now that we are done with the basics, let’s get on with the interesting bits,” the Master spoke airily. “The next test might be a little stressful for someone as young as yourself, but shinobi don’t have long lifespans anyway.”

“I’m not a shinobi,” Naruto pointed out. He was promptly ignored.

“In any case, let us proceed. If you die or go insane, you have permission to hate me.”

“....”

As if on cue, four shinobi were brought out by the medics.

The first two were brown-haired men, their hair long and falling past their shoulders. Both of them were bare-bodied, with identical blackish attire covering below their waist. The only accessories they wore was a pale-blue belt, with the word Lightning written on it. To Naruto’s knowledge, there was only one particular kind of shinobi that wore that sort of attire.

Kumo shinobi.

The third was a woman, clad in a revealing attire of black with white bandages entwined around her waist. Her most iconic feature was dark green hair, which developed into bright orange streaks near the edges of her parted bangs.

The fourth one was heavily disfigured, and Naruto could barely make out any of the person’s features— let alone gender. All he could see was a human body covered head-to-toe with countless gashes and burns.

All four were bound, their hands and feet in manacles. All four were wounded. He suspected they had been brought from the dungeon.

Naruto’s eyes widened.

“What— what are—” he began taking a step back instinctively. There wasn’t a single shinobi from the dungeons who wasn’t dangerous. Despite the fact that they were shackled, there was just something about them that made him instinctively uncomfortable.

“Do not fret, Namikaze. They aren’t here to attack you. They are here to… help you grow. To evolve. To transcend.”

Transcend?

Before the teen could actually register the thought, the Master put his right hand onto the strange seal-like thing on his belly and made a twisting motion. The strange-looking seal began to glow malevolently in a pale crimson shade as the circular engravings began to shift, almost like a lock was being opened or something strange was being released.

And then Naruto’s hand moved.

He didn’t know why or how, but the appendage moved automatically on its own, grabbing the shackled shinobi closest to him— the disfigured one, he idly noted —and placing his palm upon the man’s chest. The strange engravings flowed into his hands, before replicating at an alarming speed as they pushed out of his skin and spread all over the shinobi’s body.

The encapsulated man’s face twisted in an expression of sheer horror, and he began to scream.

Frightened, Naruto tried to pull his fingers away, but his whole hand felt glued to the man’s body, and something alien and taboo and strange began to leave the shinobi and enter his own body.

It hurt.

His chakra network felt like it was set aflame. Naruto opened his mouth to scream, but it was too late— the pain once again knocked him unconscious.

…

…

...

What the—?

The chamber had vanished. So had the Master and the unfortunate shinobi who had been put through heinous torture by whatever the Master had done. Instead, Naruto was in—

Wait. What is this place?

It was empty. Not exactly dark, but not illuminated either. All he could feel was emptiness and a roaring wind that, by all reason, should have blown him away. So great was the pressure behind the circulating air currents.

And then, the floor beneath his feet erupted. The earth itself cleaved open, as giant rocks tore their way through the ground like tombstones in a graveyard and surrounded him. They only stayed erect for a moment, as they immediately shattered and sent the shards flying towards him, puncturing his skin and entering his body.

His chakra burned as the taste of ash and dirt filled his mouth and—

“Open your eyes, boy.”

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Blinking, Naruto looked up and gazed at the Master, before glancing at the other shinobi.

And threw himself back out of sheer instinct.

The man, or whatever remained of him— was convulsing in agony. His entire body trembled, and by the sound of the liquid hitting the stone floor, the man had lost control over his bowels as well. His eyes were glassy, and if not for the random twitching of his legs, Naruto would’ve thought that the man was dead.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s in a state far worse than that,” the Master spoke up, as if reading his mind. Meeting Naruto’s horrified gaze, he arched an eyebrow. “What? I’ve performed this experiment dozens of times. This is hardly the worst-case scenario.”

“I— I did that?”

“Congratulations are in order, Namikaze. You’re a shinobi now.” The Master had an impatient grin on his face. “Now test your affinity again.”

A second piece of chakra paper was shoved in his hands.

Naruto channeled chakra through it once again. The paper snapped into two, just like earlier, but not before it also crumbled to dust and floated away.

“As expected,” the Master smirked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What— what happened?” Naruto was shaking now, consciously holding back his desire to throw up. The very idea that it was he who caused this man to become… whatever he was, made him uneasy. “What did I just do?”

The Master clasped his arms behind his back. “You see Namikaze, this is an Iwa shinobi. He has a natural affinity for the Earth nature, and a strong one at that. What you did there was drag that ability out of him and take it for yourself.”

“But then— why is he— what happened to him?”

The man shrugged. “A major imbalance in his chakra? The mutilation of his chakra networks? It could be due to any number of reasons. Personally, I just expected him to fall apart and die, but he somehow survived. Hmmm…” He cupped his chin, “I suppose you learn something new every day.”

“You made me do that knowing—” Naruto coughed, more and more uneasy with each passing second. “Knowing he’d die?” His face paled even further and his hand leaned back to grasp something— anything —to help keep him steady.

“Come now Namikaze, don’t be like that,” the Master playfully chided. “You’re a kid, aren’t you? Don’t you ever break your toys open to see how they work?”

This is bad.

For as long as she remembered, she was nigh undefeatable.

Apart from Lord Orochimaru himself, there was no one— no one —that stood a chance against the diverse and terrifying effects of her Crystal Release. After all, no matter how strong or agile a shinobi might be, no matter how many jutsu one boasted in their arsenal, there was very little they could do against someone that turned Nature itself into crystal. Air, Earth, life, non-life, organic or inorganic— anything and everything could be converted into jade with nary a thought.

There was a reason, after all, why someone like Lord Orochimaru had made a fourteen-year-old Guren the warden of an underground fortress— one that imprisoned powerful and rare shinobi from throughout the Elemental Nations.

But now, for the first time in her life, Guren felt a strange emotion.

Fear.

Not for her life, for there could be no great honor than to die as a tribute or sacrifice in the service of her Lord. No, it was the fear of failure. She never failed.

Not when she had been asked to kill the very person that had saved her life.

Not during any of the several rebellions among the prisoners.

For more than ten years, she had resolutely held her post. Not once in that entire duration was there any sort of incident.

And now, in front of this girl that was her junior in every respect, in front of this monster that the girl had summoned to fight for her, Guren felt the long-forgotten primal instinct of fear rise up within her.

It was... wrong. Shameful, for someone in her position, to think of anything other than victory and fulfilling Lord Orochimaru’s orders. As her fight grew increasingly desperate, the lingering thought in her mind continued to grow stronger.

In all my years of serving Lord Orochimaru, I have never failed him. I will not do so now.

But this monster in front of her, this unstoppable juggernaut, was some kind of freak of nature— immune to her Crystal Release. Spears, kunai, knives. No matter how many times she tried, it always ended the same way. And after throwing around her chakra from every angle without pause, she was now close to exhaustion.

Her infallible image was on the verge of cracking. And if that happened, she’d lose everything.

How could this have happened?

She had single-handedly fought the entire horde of prisoners in this dungeon and took down every single one of them. None of the prisoners could be accused of being average, yet she stood head and shoulders above them. But after all these years, she was inches away from losing her life at the hands of someone that didn’t even care about all that?

Peace has made you weak, Guren told herself. Victory has defeated you.

No more.

This monster needed to be taken out, and fast. She would not let Lord Orochimaru’s experiment be interrupted because some uppity little girl decided to betray their leader. Not on her watch.

She placed her palms down upon the ground, calling upon the layers of crystal she had slowly grown into the very foundations of the castle itself over the years. It saddened her to use her greatest technique like this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

There were no superfluous hand movements. The crystals would always answer to her.

‘The God’s Crossing.’

And the ground erupted.

Like tombstones atop a graveyard, large crystalline formations erupted out of the floor, rushing ahead to impale the juggernaut above them with extreme prejudice. And yet, the monstrosity kept swinging its massive ax, tearing the crystals apart before they could come remotely close to his crimson skin. One moment, it was airborne— the next moment, its ax swinging downwards, clearing entire layers of crystals and making them explode in all directions.

“Guess you really can’t teach an old bitch new tricks,” the impudent girl sneered at her.

Guren gnashed her teeth, preparing for a last-ditch attempt at an omnidirectional strike. Surely the monster wouldn’t be able to mount a defense in every angle at once, could he? The only way to escape something like that was a spherical force, like the Hyuga’s Revolving Heaven technique, and this monstrosity— whatever it was —was no shinobi. It couldn’t use jutsu.

It was a savage, something armed with pure physical strength and agility and nothing else.

No technique or finesse.

Yes, that will do.

She spread her hands in opposite directions into a Boar seal, gathering the last dredges of her chakra to power her most powerful technique.

Her infamous Falling Dragon.

“Give up,” Tayuya was speaking, “Give up or GAA—AAKK!”

The average shinobi would probably pause, cautiously looking around for the source of whatever had injured their opponent, before making a move. Guren called these people amateurs.

She finished gathering her chakra and shoved her palms ahead, directing the full power of the attack to converge upon her enemy.

The ground shook.

A crystalline dragon emerged.

And its nine heads arose from nine directions, their wings and claws spread across the floor as it charged at the enemy. Not a single angle was left unaccounted for, as crystal converged upon her enemy and covered it with no route of escape.

Guren held her breath.

The juggernaut rushed in, throwing its ax in a cyclic orbit, tearing through the masses of crystal like they were paper, and smashing it into the ground, creating a massive shockwave that shouldn’t have been possible at all. Just like before. The crystals were still no match for it.

But that wasn’t her sole aim.

From the corner of her left eye, she spotted Kidomaru leaping down from one of the pillars to stand beside her, his yew bow taut and laden with arrows. The six-handed shinobi pulled the string a second time and launched a volley of arrows at Tayuya, who had fallen unconscious.

The behemoth immediately jumped back and blocked the arrows.

Gurren smiled.

That right there was her opportunity.

As the Oni protected its summoner from the arrows, it left itself wide open. In a split second, the crystalline dragon reformed out of the ground and impaled the creature. Guren could only watch with surreal fascination as the Oni, despite the crystal dragons impaling into his skin and tearing through its tendons and muscles, kept breaking through them as it swung its ax.

She smirked coldly. It was too late.

SPLAT!

A tenth dragon, one that had come down from the ceiling, had pierced through the juggernaut’s brain, splattering its contents all over the floor.

All over Tayuya.

Guren smiled.

Victory was hers.

The boy was shaking.

How annoying, Orochimaru thought wryly, as he watched the fourteen-year-old instinctively shrink back into the leather-bound contraption. Somehow, seeing Minato Namikaze’s son behave like an innocent civilian made him want to throw up.

You were a natural born-killer who decimated an entire legion of shinobi with nothing but a pair of kunai, but your offspring flinches at the sight of death. Seriously, Namikaze, your son is a disappointment. You should thank me for my magnanimity.

Strangely enough, the brat reminded him of Sarutobi Hiruzen, as uncomfortable as the thought was. Even now, the old man’s words about love, friendship and ideals of the shinobi world came to mind.

Useless drivel, Orochimaru scowled.

The shinobi world wasn’t about love or friendship or anything so ludicrous, and peace was a fool’s errand. It was about blades of cold iron cutting through soft flesh. Lofty ideals were all well and good so long as you had a stick big enough to enforce them. The old professor had never understood that principle, unlike his successor, who had single-handedly turned Konoha into the most feared hidden village in an instant.

Orochimaru felt the slightest tinge of jealousy when he thought of him. Even fourteen years after his death.

Enough dillydallying. He looked at the boy, before glancing at the remaining person kneeling on the floor. After the initial attempt with the Iwa shinobi, he had repeated the experiment with the two Kumo brothers as well, both of whom were significantly skilled with the Lightning Release. Lightning was the second rarest element in the Elemental Nations, after Wind.

Naturally, Orochimaru wanted it before anything else, especially considering his pet jinchuuriki had a Wind affinity by birth.

Named after the primeval dragon god of the oceans, his seal— the Ryujin —was a man-made marvel. Upon activation and initializing contact with the victim, the seal would act like one of his Cursed Seals of Heaven and spread itself into the victim’s body, before dragging their chakra nature out and assimilating it into the host’s body.

The removal of the chakra nature often had an aggressive reaction in the victim’s body, with a drawn-out and painful death being the most common outcome. Some, like the Iwa shinobi, managed to survive, though there wasn’t much difference, not really— spending the rest of one’s natural life in a vegetative state wasn’t far off from death in his opinion.

Still, it wasn’t his problem. As the warden, it was one of Guren’s duties to take out the trash on a regular basis. She was good at taking care of annoying tasks like that.

But despite the annoying deaths, one thing was quickly made clear. Because the seal had a direct connection with the host’s chakra pathways, a complete quantification of all variables was possible. The individual amounts of chakra natures, their ratios to other complementary and contradictory natures, the amount of chakra production, and its efficiency— everything was quantifiable.

And it was absolutely glorious.

There was only one tiny little problem. Alteration in the host’s chakra pathways by insertion of new natures caused them to fracture, leading to a horrible death that no amount of healing could negate. His best-case test subject had the host surviving for forty-two hours of increasing agony and insanity before succumbing to a cruel death.

But not Naruto.

As he predicted, the Nine-tailed beast’s chakra— infamous for its unparalleled regenerative powers— had been able to instantly reverse any and all forms of damage to the boy’s chakra pathways, while the seal ensured that the new natures were added in.

In other words, the seal represented endless growth.

As for the bit of pain, it wasn’t a big deal. After all, great pains had to be undertaken in the name of research.

The only problem now was that the interface designed to quantify the host body and its chakra affinities had failed. This was primarily due to the boy’s Eight-Trigrams seal. It acted as a middleman between the chakra pathways and the Ryujin seal, and as such, left the inbuilt quantification seals inactive.

Oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Besides, he had all the time in the world. He’d correct this minor inconvenience later on.

For now, he had to complete the final stage of his experiment.

Pakura.

The hero of Sunagakure. The wielder of the infamous Scorch Release. The one betrayed by her own village because their elders valued paltry politics over a shinobi’s loyalty.

Kneeling before him was an S-rank kunoichi who was, for all intents and purposes, dead to the world. An extremely precious piece of research material that Orochimaru had managed to save from a gruesome death in the misty wastelands of Kiri, before promptly imprisoning her in the dungeons.

And now, her time had come.

The final test.

He had never used Pakura to test his seal before. After all, if she died, he’d lose the infamous Scorch Release and have nothing to show for it. But now, he was ready. Her borrowed time had finally come to an end.

“Will you—” the woman murmured in an ethereal, slightly drowsy tone—a product of being dosed with a mix of several chemicals that kept her in a trance-like state. She was too dangerous to remain lucid.

“Are you going to kill me, Orochi— Orochimaru?”

“Why of course I’m going to kill you, my dear,” he drawled, all the while carefully observing Naruto’s expressions. The boy had been pushed beyond his limits today. Would he do something unconventional? Perhaps even try to attack him? It wouldn’t really mean anything, but it’d make things a little less boring.

“What— what have I ever done to you?”

Orochimaru shook his head. “Why does death always come as such a shock to shinobi? Kill or be killed, isn’t that our daily bread and butter?”

“But… why?”

“Because you have a unique bloodline, of course. One of the more precious ones. There are just too many applications of being able to create desiccators out of thin air. Why, I’m almost… giddy at the thought of having it assimilated into my seal.”

“Please….” It wasn’t clear if the woman was laughing or weeping. Her movements were bordering on extreme catatonia, while her trance-like facial expression gave the impression that she was only half-aware of what was actually happening to her.

Meanwhile, the boy was curled up into himself, shaking madly as he watched Orochimaru casually converse with her.

Orochimaru smiled. That was okay. There was no need to burden the boy with any future expectations.

“Please…” Pakura repeated. “Do not— do— do not— do— kill. Don’t— me.”

Orochimaru cocked his head, a quizzical expression on his face. “I thought you’d be more grateful. Do you know how many of my prisoners want to die and never receive the opportunity? You’ve spent so long in that dark and dingy prison— don’t tell me you’ve grown fond of it.”

“Spare— me— spare— ”

“Don’t worry,” Orochimaru leaned forward, a kind smile on his face. “Think of this as an opportunity. If you survive, I’ll let you go! And if not… well, at least you won't spend the rest of your life in the cell. You can’t lose, really.”

He grabbed Naruto’s trembling hands and forced them onto her breasts, activating the seal a third time.

Pakura screamed and screamed and screamed, her entire form convulsing and twisting and turning as her mind frayed from the extreme pain that coursed through her body.

And just like that, she keeled over. Dead.

“Well…” Orochimaru frowned. “Unfortunately, Scorch Release won’t show on the standard chakra paper, so I just have to accept in good faith that it worked, otherwise it’d be such a waste. Don’t you agree, Namikaze?”

He turned his gaze to the boy.

Goodness. He looks like he’s about to throw up. Better maintain a distance.

“You— she— why did—” the boy struggled to form the words. His face was ashen, his blue eyes covered in a glossy sheen while tears trailed nonstop down his cheeks. The boy looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“Why did—” the boy tried again.

Orochimaru sighed. “Why did I what, Namikaze?”

“Why did— why did you— kill her?” the boy stammered. “She did nothing to you— she just— she just wanted to— to live.”

“She did,” Orochimaru smiled warmly. “And that's absolutely fair. But you see Namikaze, sometimes an end can be a blessing. The world is a cold and cruel place. People kill each other every day for the most inane of reasons. Brother against brother, student against teacher… parent against child. Death, on the other hand, is a path to peace. It’s the mountain top from which your whole life is visible. For instance, look at yourself. You want to spend the rest of your life here with Tayuya, who, by the way, is probably having her grave dug by Guren by now.”

He paused for a moment, taking in the horror growing on the boy’s face.

“And before you accuse me of being a liar, I did keep my promise. You’ll never see me again after tonight, and you and your sweetheart can stay in this castle together… forever.”

Orochimaru gripped the boy’s arms with inhuman strength and dragged him closer, their noses nearly touching.

“So welcome, as I like to say,” he hissed, his serpentine fangs extending past his lips, “to the mountain top.”

And then he buried his teeth into the boy’s neck.