A/N: Due to the sight going down, I was unable to edit, or post, anything in the last two days—I was also unable to answer any questions from the reviews, which I will remedy in a minute. I posted a chapter the morning of Friday, but due to the sight going down only a fews hours later, many people didn't get to read this chapter, and many more didn't even know this chapter existed. That also means many missed the chance to review, follow, or even read this story, which kinda saddens me :(

But don't worry. Here is a new chapter for you all to enjoy, and it is a very important one to the story. It will paint a picture of how Byleth's story will proceed, and hopefully the next chapter where we see her will be the chapter that shows how much she will change Fodlan.

Will now take this time to answer some reviews. Will also send a PM like usual, just in case you don't read this chapter.

sickboy398: It's more of an acknowledgement thing. Naruto hadn't had many acknowledge him much, if at all. Getting someone, even if its a stranger, to believe in him is a big ego boost for a kid.

Antex-The Legendary Zoroark: Byleth is 7 years older than Naruto. I stated at the beginning somewhere that the events happening in Fodlan and the Elemental Nations were separate until cannon. This is so I don't have to write every single thing that happened on either side and people could have an update on both characters. If I did it in order, then we would never leave the childhood arc until like 30 to 40 chapters in. Want this arc to be over as soon as possible lol. Sorry for the confusion.

thomascastillo9987: Yes. Yes they will meet. It won't be any time soon, but they will. However, Naruto must first meet someone else before he can meet Byleth. Hint: it has something to do with the summoning jutsu.

Warning: Dark themes ahead. Gore, death, and unsavory threats inside. If you are faint of heart, or do not wish to read such themes, feel free to skip this chapter at your own enjoyment.

Chapter 7

Fodlan

Location: Jeralt's Mercenaries' Camp

They were under attack.

Around the camp of the Jeralt Mercenaries, men screamed in agony, tents burned, and the sounds of combat spread throughout the forest. The fighting hadn't been dragging for long, yet men and women by the dozens lay dead on the soil, in their tents, or even on fire from the rain of arrows that started the mayhem.

The mercenaries were quick to act, grabbing shields and anything sharp to fight off the invasion. Many fell victim to the surprise attack, but many more pushed back to engage the enemy head-on.

In the center of the camp, where most of the battle currently takes place, Byleth removes her sword from a now-dead bandit's chest. Swiftly, she brought up her steel to deflect the incoming axe meant to split her in half. It slid cleanly off before she expertly countered with a slash to the man's neck—the spurt of blood hinting enough that the man would die before he hit the ground.

Leaving the man to die, she reached to her side and, with pinpoint accuracy, threw it into the neck of a nearby bandit poised to kill one of her comrades. There was no time to hear the man's thanks before she was engaging another bandit.

This is how the pattern continued.

Byleth would engage an enemy, leave them bleeding, then engage another who had either killed one of her allies or was in the process of doing so. The bandits were relentless in their assault, and despite Byleth's efforts to defend her allies, she was simply outnumbered. She knew not where they came from or how they gathered in such numbers without anyone being the wiser. All that mattered currently was staying alive, saving as many people as she could, and finding her father.

Amidst the burning chaos, she searched desperately for her father, but the billowing smoke made it almost impossible to see. It did not help that whenever her guard was down even slightly, there was almost always someone there to try and run her through. They did not succeed, yet every attempt caused her to tire more and more until she could barely breathe through her exhaustion and the smoke filling her lungs.

In the end, she was forced to abandon the camp and whoever was in it to get fresh air. Along the way, she found some of her fellow mercenaries doing the same, yet there was no time for banter. She could barely breathe, and she knew she was a few seconds away from blacking out when the edge of the forest came into view. Pushing her sore muscles forward, she charged the clearing. A clear sky greeted her upon her emergence from the forest.

An arrow to her shoulder was all she felt next. Pain filled her shortly after as she gripped the stick implanted in her shoulder. It only made the pain worse, the scream she let out being accompanied by ragged coughs as her body finally tried to get the smoke from earlier out of her lungs. Adding to her problems, tears blurred her vision, which meant she couldn't see whoever had just shot her.

Byleth grew frustrated. The whistling of arrows over her hadn't stopped since she'd first hit the ground, and she was not ignorant to the sound of her men's screams of agony as they fell by the dozens. A slaughter was being had, and she was on the receiving side of it. For the first time in her life, she desperately wished for the demon to come out. To kill anyone and everyone who would dare harm her allies—her friends.

And yet, the demon within her was silent. She felt no sudden rush of anger or surge of power.

But why? Why did it choose now, of all times, not to help her? To abandon her? It frustrated her to no end.

A sudden tug against her hair brought her out of her thoughts. Instincts immediately kicked in, and she immediately went for her dagger to jab at the one yanking her, but was stopped when two pairs of arms restrained her own.

"Found her!" A man's voice yelled over her, the tugging on her becoming more violent the more she resisted. At some point, the blade she had hidden was dropped thanks to a sharp twist of her arm that nearly snapped it out of place. Moments later, she was being dragged across the dirt despite her resistance. When they reached wherever they were heading, she was forcibly pulled up to her knees, the two arms from before holding her steady. No longer feeling the itchiness of smoke, she peeled her eyes open to take in her new surroundings.

She was immediately met with a sight straight out of a nightmare. Surrounding her were men, both in red armor and without. She couldn't see over the wall of men, but she saw many more behind them, their numbers likely in the triple digits.

And being forced to kneel in front of them was her gagged father, along with a handful of his followers, with steel poised to run them all through. She immediately met her father's gaze, relief filling his features, yet she could see the grimness hidden beneath. He was obviously worried about her, yet she knew there was more behind it.

So lost was she in thought that she didn't even notice the man standing in front of her father until he started walking her way. Stopping in front of her, he knelt down until they were eye level with each other.

He was old. If Byleth were to guess, the man was likely in his seventies, yet he walked as if the heavy armor he wore weighed nothing. He was balding, but his lack of hair did nothing to diminish his presence. His face was drawn and wrinkled, and his watery steel-blue eyes further hinted at his age. He was either putting on a really good show to not look weak, or the man's bone structure hadn't yet grown brittle.

His armored hand came out to grab hold of her jaw, turning it to and fro before an almost disappointed sigh left his lips.

"A beautiful thing too... Such a shame." He spoke, the meaning in his words not meaning anything to her as she watched him walk back towards her father. She was dragged along, stopping just meters away from her father as the man began speaking once more. "Now that you are both present, we can begin the trial."

Trial? What trial? What kind of trial involved attacking a legal mercenary band and burning down a forest? What farce was this?

"Four years ago, on this very day, a life was taken. A life of a boy no older than 16 name days. He was a misguided youth, yes. Angry at a system he thought unjust, he ventured out to a world unknown, eventually finding purpose in a group of sellswords known as the Jeralt Mercenaries. There, in a place I thought him safe, with a man I myself thought worthy of his name, he found a purpose, found love, and became a man I was no longer ashamed to call my son. He was safe, and that's all that mattered."

"Then, on the 23rd of the Blue Sea Moon, my boy, my innocent son, was publicly executed—brutally and without mercy or a trial." The reason for this farce was revealed, Byleth watching as her father's eyes widened in realization. She knew, like her father, who the old man spoke of and who he likely was. How could she forget when the memory of that day had been so embedded in her thoughts for weeks after?

Yet 'innocent' wouldn't be the word she used for the traitor. He was a member of Jeralt's Mercenaries Company. As the leader, her father held the right to pass judgment on him. As for a trial? There was no need for one. He tried to have her killed, and failed. He committed treachery right before her father's eyes. His fate was practically sealed—more so if she hadn't survived. If they'd known he was the son of a noble, they would have had the Church of Seiros deal with him, seeing it would be a noble's issue then, but it became a mute point if the boy hid his identity—especially seeing he had no crest.

This 'trial' was truly a farce.

"His body? Left to rot. His honor? His justice? Denied by the Church of Seiros. And his killer? Allowed to roam free while my boy rots six feet under a pile of dirt!"

The soldiers surrounding them began to become rowdy, jeers and other unsavory insults being thrown their way as the Old Man's speech became louder and more passionate.

"I ask you, good men and women of Fodlan: was justice truly served? Can it truly be called 'justice' when the man who brutally murdered a child is free to continue living unchecked and unpunished? When his bravery to do what needed to be done was responded to in kind with a punishment only fit for rapists, thieves, and murderers? Who is more evil? The one they deem fit for such a punishment, or the ones passing it down? Tell me truly, who is more evil?"

The man had charisma; she would give him that. If their blood wasn't boiling before, it definitely is now. Most, if not all, were calling for the blood of her father. People who likely didn't even know the traitor or the full story were invigorated by the old man's speech and ready to lop her and her father's heads off.

It sickened her.

And it was beginning to seriously piss her off.

"But his crimes of murder aside, what if I told you there was a secret he has been keeping? A secret that not only threatens the people around him, but maybe even the entire continent of Fodlan?"

Now what nonsense was he speaking? For as long as she'd known her father, he had always been truthful with her. In fact, the man was practically an open book. Anything she wanted to know, he would tell her. Anything that was important, he would tell her. That's just the kind of man he was. What did this old fossil know about her father that she didn't already know?

"On this continent, there are dark secrets. Secrets within the Church of Seiros, The Adrestian Empire, The Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and even the Leicester Alliance. Secrets so grave, so terrifying, entire villages have been burned to the ground simply to keep them buried. I once called it all a bunch of hogwash—just rumors passed down to create unrest and propaganda. Yet, the night before my son's murder, a letter reached me. In that letter, he spoke of one of these secrets—of the truth behind the disappearance of the town in Hevring."

Byleth froze. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she suddenly felt cold all over. He couldn't be about to do what she thought he was. He couldn't possibly reveal that to all these people?

"He spoke of no unnatural force that day. To the rest of the world, they were told it was a Demonic Charge that caused the deaths of untold numbers and that it was the Jeralt mercenaries who put the beasts to the sword. Yet my boy knew the truth because he was there. A truth that ultimately got him killed! It was not Demonic beast who slaughtered the townspeople, but a girl. A single girl. A girl he said was capable of slaying Demonic Beasts with but a swipe of an arm. A girl, once the daughter of a prestigious noble house, now corrupted through inhumane experiments condoned and carried out by the Church of Seiros. A girl I myself once thought dead, now used as a weapon to carry out Rhea's twisted system of oppression! And now, that girl now kneels before you!" With a flourish, he pointed at her, his face as convincing as his speech. "Lorelai Citri, heir the lost House of Citri!"

There was an unsettling silence following the man's 'reveal' of her 'lineage'. Every eye turned to focus on the bound 'heir of Citri', mixes of horror, disbelief, and anger on their faces, while Jeralt stared at the back of the old man as if to burn a hole through his skull with his eyes.

And Byleth?

She was unmoved.

The words of the man continued to play through her head over and over, yet she still couldn't fully process it.

No. It wasn't that she couldn't process it, just couldn't believe what he'd just said.

This man wasn't just revealing one of the worst days of her life. This man wasn't just reviving a memory she wished to remain locked in the deepest parts of her mind. This man wasn't just using her memory as a way to get whatever twisted sense of justice for his son.

No, it was worse.

Far worse.

He was using her. He was slandering her father while using his son's death as an excuse to further his own goals in dealing with whatever grievances he had with the Church of Seiros.

This was never about revenge for his son at all. This was about politics. And though Byleth didn't understand what his gain was, she understood that-

"YOU DASTARD!" She couldn't stop the roar that left her lips. The familiar feeling of anger was back, and it shone brighter than it ever had before. The signs of the Demon's energy merging began doing its job of altering her body, yet she could care less about something so trivial. All she currently cared about was using every bit of strength her small body had to break free from the men holding her and get to the man using her for his own selfish deeds. "YOU LYING DASTARD! HOW DARE YOU! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU! I'LL KILL YOU! I SWEAR IT ON THE GODS I'LL KILL YOU!"

The grizzled old man took a step back, his composure broken briefly from her outburst, yet regained it upon realizing the girl wasn't capable of breaking her men's grip on her. Turning to his soldiers, he spoke out once more, "Witness it, soldiers! See with your own eyes the truth! See what the Church of Seiros has done to one of our own! A Noble! See for yourselves what has become of her and what could become of anyone, no matter their lineage! But fear not, for I shall not allow the Church to sully her no longer!"

Through the bloodlusted haze, Byleth watched as the man pulled the sword at his side from its scabbard. If she were in her right mind, she would have noticed from its strange rusted coloring and the way it seemed to glow that it wasn't a normal sword. She would have also noticed the way her father's face suddenly twisted into desperation as he tried breaking free from his own captors. She would have realized the severity of the man's words before and now and understood what was coming next. Unfortunately, her anger at the man overwhelmed all her senses, the need to break free and tear the man's head from his shoulders being her one and only concern.

Now standing before her, her efforts to break free increased. She could feel the hands on her struggling to hold her, and the liar was just within reach. He wouldn't even see it coming when she ripped his throat out.

"Hear me, brave soldiers of Merceus! On this day, we finally put to rest one of our own." Almost there! She was almost free! Just a bot more and she would have him! "But rest assured, soldiers, for on this day, justice shall be served!" The grips were breaking! She was almost there! "I shall rid this world of evil, and we shall all rest easy knowing Fodlan will be safer tomorrow than it was today!" Byleth felt the exact moment the arms around her lost their grip. At that same moment, her legs were pushing off the dirt and charging the liar. She was just inches away, and she would have his-

She was suddenly halted mid charge.

Out of nowhere, she felt weak, and all of her limbs felt too heavy to keep up.

But why? She was fine just a moment ago—great even. So why? Why was her body refusing to move? The liar was right in front of her. She could kill him if she just reached out, so why were her arms refusing to move? And what was that he was pointing at her?

Byleth looked down and was further confused. Something long, rusty, and glowing was embedded into her chest. Following the rusty-looking object up to the one holding it, she saw a hilt.

Ah, it all made sense now.

He had run her through.

Straight through her heart.

"Rest, child of Citri. Rest knowing you have been freed from the clutches of that witch Rhea and her ilk. Rest easy knowing there will be justice for you and your family." The man actually sounded sorrowful, but why? And who was Citri again? Why couldn't she think straight anymore? Why did her chest hurt again?

Ah, she remembered. She'd been stabbed.

This man had run her through.

She couldn't breathe. Why couldn't she breathe? Where did the pain suddenly come from? Why did it hurt so much? Why wasn't it stopping? Where was her father? Why wasn't he stopping the pain like he always did?

Her chest was moved once more. The rusty object was leaving her chest.

It hurt.

It really, really, really hurt.

The world was suddenly turning.

She was now on the ground, but...why?

Why was everything suddenly getting blurry?

Why were those soldiers just looking at her? Why were they not saving her?

Where was her...Dad? Why...was he...not...helping...

Why...was it get..ting...dark?

Where...fa...ther...

Whe...

Location: ?

Sharp teeth grinned down at the still form of his jailer. Around them, the mindscape was falling apart. Stone slabs fell from the ceiling, breaking apart violently as they smashed against the ground. The chakra he had typically flooded through the place began seeping out through the newly formed holes in the walls, bringing glee to the Fox.

The girl was at death's door.

If the blood pooling around her wasn't an indication of her coming demise, then the rapid decline of her mindscape surely was. It was happening a lot sooner than even he would have expected, yet he wouldn't be one to complain when a blessing was put in front of him.

Soon, very soon, he would be free. Soon, his chakra would be free of this vessel, and in 5 years time, he would know freedom once again. He would seek out the bearer of those accursed eyes first, then he would lay waste to-

A sudden spout of dizziness had him stumbling to the ground. It wasn't exactly odd. The death of his host meant his as well, however temporary. He had expected the feeling of fading away, yet this was different. His chakra was leaving him, as it was meant to, but why couldn't he feel it entering the atmosphere?

It was with that thought that the unexpected happened.

His cage began glowing. Looking around frantically, he watched as the lights began glowing brighter and brighter before it all began to gather towards the gate where the girl lay. As if it were never there, the light vanished. When it returned, it did not do so in its bright color, but in red. In front of his very eyes, a symbol was being drawn. The state of confusion soon turned to dumbfoundment as he realized what was being drawn in front of him.

The symbol for 'death'.

The moment the character was fully drawn, Kurama, the Kyuubi no Kitsune, felt pain unlike anything he'd ever felt rock his entire body. Blood and chakra were being forcibly pulled from every pour in his body. His screams were enough to shatter eardrums, yet no one was there to save him.

This was wrong! This was all wrong! Why was this happening? He was meant to be free after her death! Meant to finally seek his vengeance! So why?! Why was this happening?! Why was the seal-

Through the haze of pain and anger, he suddenly understood.

The Yondaime.

This had to be his doing.

The seal.

It wasn't what he thought it was. It wasn't meant to simply keep him contained. No, the Yondaime was smarter than that. He surely knew it was impossible to keep him sealed. He knew his child and descendants would forever be in danger as long as he, the Kyuubi, continued to draw breath.

He knew this the day that woman spoke of a new seal.

The Yondaime was smart. Too smart to be a clanless nobody with not an ounce of special blood. His reactions, his smell, his soul—everything about the man was wrong!

Then he saw the seal. Through Kushina's eyes, he saw the seal he once said would 'solve all their problems'. He should have taken it more seriously.

But now he knew. Now, as his body began to shrivel as the seal wrung him like a dirty rag, he knew he should have taken the Yondaime as a serious threat to his continued existence. The seal wasn't meant to simply keep him contained. It wasn't even meant to have his child, the original host, merge with his chakra over time.

It was meant to be used as a failsafe. It was meant as a means of protecting the child. It was meant to be used as a threat. A threat that Kurama now knew to take very, very seriously.

A threat that could carry out, and succeed in, killing the Kyuubi no Kitsune—for good.

The beast growled at the symbol of death, which might as well have been its embodiment. Even in death, the Yondaime spites him. For the first time he could ever remember, the Kurama was afraid. He did not wish to die. To die with no chance of ever coming back.

He truly hated this world.

Desperate to cling to his existence, the fox looked at the still body on the floor. He was getting weaker, and his vision was growing dark, but he still had time to reverse this outcome. What he was about to do went against his pride; every vein in his body was screaming against the actions he was about to commit. And yet it was the only way to ensure his survival.

Pushing his will to live over his pride, he allowed what meager chakra he had left to move towards the still form. Her eyes had completely turned to glass, but he was sure she could be saved. With a growl, he watched as the chakra engulfed the human, immediately doing its work to repair the girl back to normal.

His gamble paid off.

Instant relief coerced through him as the mindscape around him paused in its self-destruction. The sound of a heartbeat echoed throughout the mindscape, bringing further relief to the immortal being. One by one, the slabs of stone began to return to their rightful place in the ceiling and walls, while the darkness began to recede.

In the cage, Kurama glared at the symbol of death, still hovering over him like a threat despite everything going back to how it was. Eventually, the light it emitted began to fade before the symbol melted back into the seal on his cage. Breathing heavily, the fox did his best not to look at his feeble arms as he observed the girl on the ground. Her eyes were still glassy, yet there was no doubt in his mind that she was alive. He'd pumped more than enough chakra into her to bring her back from the brink of death, along with dealing with whatever had killed her on the other side.

All he needed to do now was wait. Wait for his body to regenerate, and wait for the aftermath of the one who dared kill his host.

But for now, he was tired. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his eyes open, and he welcomed the peaceful serenity of his dreams.

"Live," he mumbled, cursing the Yondaime, cursing his weakness, and cursing how much this moment had potentially changed he and his hosts future symbiotic relationship. "Live...and know, this is the last time, I shall give... my..."

Fodlan

Valbar Maxwell

Valbar Maxwell sheathed his sword upon the Demon girl's passing. It truly was a shame. A few years, and she would have surely grown to be a beauty. It was just unfortunate that her involvement with that man aligned all too well with his ambitions. He knew not her true origins, nor how she was given such a curse, yet it all mattered not in the end. With her death and the story he forged, he would have the army he needed to challenge the Church. They would finally stand a chance against Rhea and end her reign of lies once and for all.

Drowning out the cheers of his men after the murder of a child, Valbar marched to the bound man, whose eyes spoke of disbelief. Even when he was before him, those eyes never left the girl.

It was honestly sad.

Despite his crimes, he held no ill will towards the mercenary. His first son was a pariah in the family. Loud, brash, and often prone to violence, it was inevitable that the boy would cause him trouble somewhere down the line.

Which was why it was a blessing in disguise when he left the manner with his own free will. The letter he left behind was rushed; his idiot of a son likely wrote it the same moment he decided to leave. It spoke of wanting adventure and to see the world, yet he wasn't fooled. The Jeralt Mercenaries, along with the woman he couldn't get off his tongue every second he got, had left town that night. It didn't take a genius to know the boy was infatuated, nor did it take many cells to know where his so-called 'adventures' were taking him. He knew where he was, and he had no problem with the decision he had made. It was unfortunate to hear of his death, but let it be known that Valbar didn't waste an opportunity when one was presented.

With his boy's death and the details of his letter, it gave him all the reason he needed to gather the forces he needed. Finally, he was able to get his houses under one banner. Finally, he had the troops to be taken seriously. Finally, he had the opportunity to make a change where it was needed. It was just all unfortunate that the small price for it was a child and a group of sellswords.

Unfortunate indeed.

Kneeling down to the still shocked man, Valbar opted to at least look into the eye of the man whose daughter he'd just murdered and who he'd soon condemn to the same fate. There were no words he could likely say to quell the man's heartbreak, yet he at least deserved final words. With but a tilt of his jaw, the man holding the mercenary at sword-point cut the rag in his mouth, the cloth dropping unceremoniously to the ground.

Jeralt still remained unmoved. Unbothered by the man's lack of response, Valbar spoke, "As a commander, I shall grant you final words before your beheading." It took a while for the mercenary to even acknowledge him. When he finally did, it wasn't the reaction he expected. The face that turned to meet him was carved from stone. The shock on his face had vanished as if it were never there, and though he could feel the killing intent from the man, he showed not even a hint of it on his features. When he spoke, his voice was calm yet held a hint of a warning. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?"

Valbar did not give the man the incredulous brow he wished to give. "I think you, of all people, should know the significance of what has just occurred, Jeralt. I thought you many things, but lacking an understanding of politics was never one of them. You took my boy, my son, Jeralt. It is only right, as a noble, that I seek justice."

"You and I both know this had nothing to do with that boy." Jeralt replied just as calmly. "But seeing that you dodged my question, I take it you have no idea the true ramifications of your actions."

Valbar's brow furrowed at the man. This was not simply the ramblings of a desperate man. He was too confident—too detached. It spoke of something he wasn't privy to, and that honestly worried him.

"Then enlighten me, Jeralt. Educate me on the mistakes I have made." Valbar decided to humor the dead man. He was to die anyway, so what harm would it be if the man wanted to give him information that he was apparently lacking?

The mercenary's gaze went to the dead girl once more before returning to the noble. "That girl...my daughter, meant something to Rhea." He revealed, as if it was supposed to be some threat that would have him quell in fear and retract his well-laid plans. "I know not what her purpose was to be, nor what she truly is, but I know Rhea favored her. With her death, you've not only doomed your entire house, but every ally, man, woman, and child, you hold under your banner."

"...That's it?" Valbar finally showed his incredulousness. "That's the reason why you're so confident? Because you thought I would fear Rhea's wrath?"

"I know her wrath is the last thing keeping you up at night. If it was, you wouldn't have conjured up such a scheme. Seeing that it took you four years to retaliate, I'd say you were extremely thorough in your planning. No one would be the wiser of what had happened here, and you'd have accomplished your goals... Not that it'll matter soon." Unexpectedly, the mercenary began scanning his surroundings. "I can see why you'd think to be confident. How many men did you gather for such a small band of mercenaries?"

"Enough," Valbar said simply, to which a smirk twitch on the merc's face so fast one would have missed it if they'd blinked.

"You should have brought more."

Valbar suddenly felt uneasy after the words. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, and he had the sudden urge to get as far away from here as possible. Standing, he drew his sword and placed it at the merc's neck. The time for talking was over, and he truly needed to leave this place before whatever bad feeling he had fell on his shoulders.

"Any last 'wisdom' you wish to pass?" He didn't know why he asked. He'd already heard enough, yet his honor demanded he give the man that much.

"Just a few words. The very same someone should have given your son." The sound of fear behind the noble began to crescendo. In front of him, men were backing away, a look of absolute terror on their faces as they watched something behind him.

Valbar almost didn't want to turn around. That bad feeling had turned into alarm bells, constantly ringing and telling him danger was extremely close. When he finally built up the courage to turn, he wished he hadn't.

The girl, the one he made sure to twist his blade in not a few minutes prior, was on her feet. She was slumped forward, her hair covering her features, while standing on unsteady feet.

All of that was not as unsettling as the bubbling energy surrounding her.

Then her skin began to peel, revealing not blood and muscle but a blackened flow of red that seemed to be constantly moving. Slowly, her head lifted, and Valbar came eye to eye with not blue but bright red eyes, the color of blood.

Then she let out a feral scream to the heavens before a pillar of red consumed her hole—the beam splitting the clouds while the shockwave that followed nearly knocked Maxwell off his feet. Winds stronger than any typhoon he'd witnessed blew trees and men in full plate armor to the ground. Through the man-made storm, he could see the one who had created it.

A sphere of incandescent red and purple circled her form. Even from here, he could feel the heat and raw fury rubbing against his skin. Power, stronger than any crest or divine will he'd witnessed, was before him, and it brought true fear to his heart. When it all stopped and he was able to see clearly once more, he didn't even know if what he was seeing could be called human anymore.

Where the girl once stood, she was now on all fours. Where her skin was unmarked, it was now red and black in a constant flow of moving lights. Where her eyes were red and her mouth was delicate, now there were white voids with sharp spikes for a mouth.

And behind her, flowing back and forth lazily, were four tails.

Even through his fear and the sound of his throbbing heartbeat, he could still hear the almost cocky voice of the mercenary.

"You should have aimed for the head."

Konoha

"Is something wrong, Onee-san?"

Sothis looked down at the boy calling for her attention. She blinked, completely forgetting what had suddenly interrupted her train of thought. She felt it was important, like something major had just occurred, yet she couldn't put a finger on what it had been...

"It's, nothing Child. Now, where were we?... Ah, yes! On with the-"

A/N: A Byleth centered chapter. Safe to say, things got real here. This was originally two chapters, yet didn't feel right to break this up then have Naruto's regular life breaking the flow and mood, so just put it all together.

Next chapter is a Naruto centered one, along with introducing an important character. It will be posted on the afternoon of Tuesday, so hope you all look forward to it!

Thank you all for the follows and favorites. If you like this story, consider giving my other work 'The Fate We Have Chosen' a try. Reviews, both good and bad, give me motivation to write, so please keep them coming, and I hope you all have a damn good day.

Current Age in Scene:

Byleth: 12

Jeralt: 300+