Another explosion thundered through the battlefield, the sheer force of it rupturing through the Iwa shinobi ranks, tearing them apart like paper. Naruko Uzumaki stood amidst the chaos, her bolter pistol still aimed, the smoking barrel glowing faintly from the heat of its latest volley. The acrid scent of burnt flesh and gunpowder filled the air.
Kushina's eyes widened in horror, her breath catching in her throat. That weapon... that machinery... it had obliterated the Iwa forces in mere seconds. She had seen men die before—witnessed war and bloodshed firsthand—but never like this. It was like a thunderstorm had erupted from Naruko's very being, a maelstrom of death incarnate. The first five ranks of Iwa shinobi were gone, erased from existence before they could even scream. Their bodies—what was left of them—lay sprawled across the battlefield, torn limb from limb or bursting apart like overfilled waterskins.
Konoha's shinobi stood frozen, paralyzed by sheer terror. Only seconds had passed since the first shots, yet the Iwa forces had already begun to falter, their charge collapsing under the realization of their impending doom. Their comrades lay in ruin around them, confusion and dread thick in the air. The reality of Naruko's power dawned upon them, their war cries turning into screams of despair.
Naruko took her time, lowering her bolter, allowing the silence to fester. And then she moved.
She broke into a run, her speed unnatural, the ground trembling beneath her foot. Those Iwa shinobi who had merely been injured by her initial attack attempted to crawl away, but it was useless. They were beneath her. They were weak. She crushed their skulls beneath her heels without so much as a glance, the wet crunch of bone and brain matter splattering like crushed fruit.
Her chainsword revved to life, its hungry teeth vibrating violently as it roared, hungry for slaughter. And then, Kushina heard it—a sound she knew she would never forget.
It was not the sound of battle. It was not the clash of swords or the howl of jutsu. It was something far worse. It was the sound of flesh being carved from bone, of human bodies being shredded apart as if they were nothing more than livestock being butchered for meat. The chainsword's teeth tore into the first shinobi, and his scream echoed through the battlefield, his body rending into pieces before he had the chance to process what was happening.
The others began to beg.
"Mercy! Please! I surrender—"
Their cries were drowned beneath the wet, gurgling sounds of their bodies being torn apart. The air was thick with the scent of blood, viscera spilling onto the battlefield as limbs flew, torsos split, and heads rolled.
Two hundred Iwa shinobi. Gone within seconds.
Naruko kept swinging, her chainsword a whirlwind of death, reducing her enemies to shredded remnants of what they once were. Their screams filled the air, cries of pain, terror, and absolute despair. It was as if hell itself had opened upon them, and she was the reaper sent to collect their souls.
She reveled in it.
But it was not enough.
The seal that had bound her chakra for so long had finally broken, and she could feel the energy surging through her veins. It was intoxicating, raw power coursing through her, a reminder of what she truly was—an angel of the Emperor's wrath.
With a single motion, she slammed her fist into the ground.
The earth groaned beneath her power. The battlefield trembled as cracks formed along the ground, and suddenly, massive spikes of wood burst forth, skewering the remaining Iwa shinobi.
Their bodies were impaled in an instant, lifted into the air like grotesque ornaments on a nightmarish tree. Blood and viscera dripped from the impalements, staining the wood with the remains of the fallen. The Iwa forces who were still alive hung there, their bodies twitching as their lives slowly drained away. The screams that had filled the air moments ago had faded into eerie silence, replaced by the sickening sound of blood dripping onto the battlefield below.
Kushina's breath came in ragged gasps, her entire body trembling as she stared at the horror before her. She could feel Minato beside her, his hands clenched into fists, his face pale. Even he, the Yellow Flash, a man who had single-handedly slain thousands of Iwa shinobi in the last war, could not comprehend the nightmare before him.
This was not war. This was annihilation.
Naruko stood beneath the impaled forest of corpses, her face tilted upward as the blood rained down upon her. She let it coat her skin, her clothes, her weapons. She stood there, basking in it, her form a crimson specter of death.
She was not of this world.
She was the Angel of Death.
She was the Emperor's Maelstrom.
Blood soaked Naruko's face, dripping down her armor like war paint. The battlefield lay in utter ruin—mangled corpses, severed limbs, and pools of crimson stretching as far as the eye could see. The air was thick with the stench of burnt flesh and gunpowder, the screams of the dying already fading into silence.
And yet, among the sea of corpses, one survivor remained.
A young girl, barely into her teens, sat trembling, her body drenched in the blood of her fallen comrades. Short black hair clung to her sweat-slicked forehead, her pink eyes wide with sheer, mind-numbing terror.
She could barely move, barely breathe.
Naruko took a slow step forward.
The girl whimpered, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She reached for a kunai with trembling fingers—only to feel the cold barrel of a bolter pistol press against her forehead.
Naruko's golden eyes stared down at her, void of emotion.
Tears streamed down the girl's face, mixing with the filth and blood coating her cheeks. Her body shuddered violently. A faint hissing sound filled the air as her control failed her, warm urine pooling beneath her, merging with the blood of the dead.
She knew.
She was going to die.
Naruko pulled the trigger.
A deafening boom rang across the battlefield—
And the girl vanished.
Naruko's sharp eyes darted forward. There, standing in the distance, was a young man.
Tall, lean but well-built, his golden hair tipped with crimson. His arms cradled the girl, his red eyes burning with fury as he stared her down.
A strange feeling settled in Naruko's chest.
Something familiar.
But she didn't know why.
She studied him carefully, then turned her gaze toward the remaining Konoha forces.
Their faces were frozen in horror.
Jiraiya, the legendary Sannin, stood rigid, his jaw slack, sweat dripping down his temple. Even the great Yellow Flash, Minato Namikaze, looked shaken, his breath unsteady as he gripped a kunai tightly.
They feared her.
Naruko let her gaze sweep over them, until it settled on one woman.
Kushina Uzumaki.
Bloodied, battered, but standing firm.
Her violet eyes were locked onto Naruko, wide with something between disbelief and anguish.
And then—she moved.
A sudden roar of determination filled the air as Kushina gripped her Uzumaki sword and charged.
Naruko arched a brow.
She could sense the fear in the woman's body—her breath was uneven, her heart pounded like a war drum.
And yet, despite it all, she still charged.
Hmph. Brave.
With a flick of her wrist, Naruko revved her chainsword. The deadly weapon roared to life, its jagged teeth spinning violently, eager to tear through flesh and bone.
Their blades met.
Clang!
The impact sent shockwaves through the ground, the sheer force causing the dirt beneath them to crack. Kushina gritted her teeth, using all her strength to push against Naruko's blade.
But it was like pressing against an immovable wall.
Naruko barely moved, her stance unwavering.
Kushina leaped back, then lunged again, her sword flashing in the dim battlefield light. She aimed for the gaps in Naruko's body, targeting weak points like a seasoned warrior.
Naruko smirked.
Good instincts. But it won't be enough.
She parried each strike effortlessly, her chainsword singing as it met Kushina's steel again and again. Sparks erupted between them, their blades dancing in a deadly rhythm.
Kushina spun, attempting a low sweep—only for Naruko to sidestep with ease.
Then, Naruko countered.
Her chainsword screamed as she swung it down with devastating force.
Kushina barely managed to block, her arms buckling under the sheer power. The impact sent her skidding backward, her boots digging trenches into the bloodied earth.
She panted, sweat dripping down her brow.
Naruko cocked her head. "You're not bad."
Kushina wiped blood from her lip and tightened her grip. "And you're a monster."
Naruko calm expression. "I've been called worse."
Kushina lunged again, and Naruko met her halfway. Their blades clashed once more, the battlefield filled with the sound of steel and roaring chains.
But Kushina was slowing down.
Her arms trembled from the strain, her movements just a second too late, a fraction too slow.
Naruko saw it.
And she exploited it.
With a brutal twist, she disarmed Kushina, sending the Uzumaki sword flying into the dirt.
Kushina gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
Before she could react, Naruko slammed a fist into her gut.
The impact was devastating.
Kushina's body folded as she was launched backward, crashing into the dirt with a sickening thud.
She choked, coughing up blood, her vision swimming.
And then—she felt a shadow loom over her.
Slowly, she forced her eyes open.
Naruko stood above her, chainsword humming, golden eyes cold and calculating.
For the first time in her life, Kushina felt true fear.
This wasn't just another shinobi.
This wasn't just a warrior.
This was something beyond human.
Naruko lifted her chainsword.
The teeth spun rapidly, blood from past victims still dripping from the edges.
Kushina braced herself—
But the killing blow never came.
Instead, she felt something drop beside her.
Her sword.
Kushina's eyes snapped open, staring at Naruko in disbelief.
Naruko merely tilted her head.
"Stand." Her voice was calm, emotionless. "If you want to stop me—fight."
Kushina clenched her teeth.
Her body screamed at her to stay down, to accept death.
But she refused.
With shaking hands, she grabbed her sword and pushed herself to her feet.
Even as blood dripped down her chin.
Even as her muscles ached and her breath came ragged.
She stood.
Naruko's lips curled into a faint smirk.
"Good."
And then, the battle continued.
Kushina surged forward, Uzumaki sword flashing in the crimson light of the battlefield. She moved with practiced precision, her strikes swift and deadly. But no matter how hard she fought, Naruko pushed her back.
The younger woman fought like a force of nature.
With every clash of their blades, Kushina felt herself losing ground. Her arms trembled from the sheer force behind Naruko's strikes. Her breathing grew ragged, her muscles screamed for relief, but she refused to fall.
Naruko's movements were effortless, each swing of her chainsword calculated and merciless.
Another strike.
Another block—barely.
The force sent Kushina skidding across the bloodied dirt, her boots dragging trenches into the ground.
She barely had time to react before Naruko was upon her again, slashing downward in a devastating arc.
Kushina barely dodged, feeling the whoosh of the chainsword cutting through air, missing her by inches.
She lunged again—only for Naruko to parry and slam her boot into her gut.
Kushina choked, her body flung backward from the sheer power behind the kick. She crashed into the dirt, coughing up blood.
She wasn't winning this.
Damn it... she's too strong.
Kushina gritted her teeth, gripping her sword tighter. She wasn't about to give up.
But she needed something—anything—to break through.
Then, an idea struck her.
A desperate, reckless idea.
It might not work.
But she had to try.
With a deep breath, she stood up, shaking, battered—but still standing.
Then, she started to sing.
Her voice was soft at first, a gentle melody that wove through the chaos of battle.
"Don't try to live so wise..."
Naruko lunged—
And then stopped.
Her chainsword hovered mid-air, her entire body freezing as the words reached her ears.
Kushina continued, her voice steady despite the pain in her body.
"Don't cry 'cause you're so right..."
Naruko's breath hitched.
Why... why do I know this song?
A memory.
Faint.
Distant.
A woman's voice, weak but warm.
She was small. Barely an infant.
And someone—someone had sung this to her.
"Don't dry with fakes or fears..."
Naruko staggered back.
Her grip on her chainsword trembled, her golden eyes widening.
Images flickered in her mind. A blurred face. Crimson hair. A voice whispering to her in the dark.
Who...?
Kushina's voice grew stronger, and despite herself—despite the confusion twisting inside her—Naruko whispered the final line.
"'Cause you will hate yourself in the end..."
Silence.
Naruko stood frozen, her entire body numb.
She stared at Kushina, her mind racing.
And then, before she could stop herself—
A single word escaped her lips.
"Mama..."
She didn't even realize she had said it.
Tears leaked from her eyes without her permission. She didn't understand why.
Kushina let out a broken sob, a wobbly smile forming on her face.
"Welcome home, my little maelstrom..." she whispered.
Before Naruko could react, Kushina's hand shot forward.
Her palm pressed against Naruko's neck, and a seal flared to life.
Naruko's vision swam.
Her limbs grew heavy.
The world tilted.
She barely registered the feeling of falling before darkness took her.
The last thing she saw—
Was the gentle, loving smile on Kushina's tear-streaked face.
Naruko seal
Inside Naruko's mindscape, Kurama stirred, his massive form stretching as he finally awoke from his forced slumber. His red eyes opened, scanning the familiar yet altered landscape of Naruko's subconscious. His whiskered face scrunched in irritation.
Damn those humans, he thought, cracking his neck as he stood. They must have sealed her chakra again. I just hope the brat didn't get herself killed while I was out.
But then—he felt it.
A presence.
Something... wrong.
Kurama stiffened, his ears twitching. His instincts screamed danger. Naruko's soul—her very essence—was twisted, laced with something dark and vile.
Rage.
Bloodlust.
It was familiar. Too familiar.
With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. Didn't think this would happen again...
Kurama slammed both massive paws together, and the entire mindscape glowed—a deep, unnatural blue light pulsed through the void, like veins of energy splitting through the sky.
And then he saw it.
The corruption.
Dark blue energy pulsed and twisted within Naruko's core, spiraling chaotically like a storm barely contained.
At first glance, someone might mistake it for his own chakra—his malice, his rage.
But it wasn't.
It was something else.
Something older.
Something worse.
A growl rumbled deep in his throat. Khorne.
So that's how it got in.
Naruko had fought on the battlefield, soaked in the blood of her enemies, drowned in it. And in that moment, the corruption had slithered into her. The Chaos God's influence had taken root, growing stronger while she was unconscious, her mind vulnerable, her chakra sealed.
Kurama's claws flexed.
Well, shit.
He had no interest in the Blood God, nor did he care about the so-called 'powers' it granted. But this... this was dangerous. If left unchecked, Naruko wouldn't just lose herself—she'd become something else entirely.
But Kurama wasn't worried.
If there was one thing he had learned, it was that he—and only he—owned Naruko's soul.
And there was no room for any damn Chaos God in it.
Time to clean house.
Kurama focused, diving deep into Mito Uzumaki's memories. Seals, ancient and powerful, flickered in his mind. Techniques long forgotten.
He had always been good at devouring power. Even back when he had been nothing more than a weapon for the Sage's sons, he had learned to consume and repurpose energy, turning it into his own.
This was no different.
With a smirk, he extended his claws, weaving a new seal—one of his own making.
If Chaos wanted to worm its way into Naruko...
Then he would eat it first.
A red-black glow spread from his claws, mixing into the deep blue corruption. The energy twisted, screamed, resisting at first. But Kurama's smirk widened.
It didn't matter.
In the end, all power belonged to the strongest.
And that was him.
As the corruption was devoured, Kurama licked his lips, savoring the power.
Not bad.
Free food.
He wasn't complaining.
But now, he had an even bigger question.
What the hell did I miss while I was sleeping?
To be continued...,