A/N: Being sick has affected my update schedule. Apologies. Dark has been helping to keep me afloat while I recover.
This cough is driving me crazy even two weeks later! Hopefully it's not bronchitis or pneumonia. No fun.
Every review truly does help, large or small, anything is better than nothing at all.
I'm well aware that this story isn't anywhere near as popular as "Grace" and the rest, but here we go. Hopefully someone, somewhere, enjoys this.
Do let me know in the reviews!
Just wanted to say, I appreciate you all! More feedback means faster updates! It's especially important, in these, trying times, with the main site notifications down. Every word counts and i appreciate you all! All these reviews really keep me inspired! Looking forward to hearing from you~!
As ever, I own no references, quotes, themes or memes. They're tributes to legends far greater than little 'ol me.
I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time.
Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that.
In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know~!
This chapter's sheer shenanigans were written by Dark himself, I believe the words he used were "Eiichiro Oda levels of insanity."
Funny thing, that...he'd be right.
"Beware the meek, for they are often the strongest."
~A Proverb.
Have at Thee
The winds howled over Castle Morne, a graveyard of shattered stone and bloodstained steel. The scent of burnt wood, rusted iron, and the lingering stench of the dead clung to the air, refusing to be forgotten.
Standing amidst the wreckage, Edgar did not move. His hands, rough and calloused from years of battle, wrapped around the hilt of a grotesque monstrosity of a sword. It was no ordinary weapon—a colossus of suffering, fused with twisted limbs, iron thorns, and the essence of war itself. The blade looked less like something meant to be wielded and more like a throne that had devoured its last ruler.
And yet, Edgar wasn't looking at the sword. His eyes, shadowed by grief yet sharpened by experience, were locked onto the blond menace standing before him—Naruto Uzumaki.
A storm. No. A calamity in human form.
This brat had torn through the castle's ranks like a natural disaster, leaping from enemy to enemy, crashing into them with the force of an avalanche, breaking armor with his bare fists, and somehow looking like he was having the time of his life while doing it. The demonic creatures of Castle Morne—warped, furious, cursed—had tried to cut him down. They failed.
And now, standing amidst the bodies of those who had dared to challenge him, he grinned. His arms were crossed, his stance was cocky, and his expression screamed "Who's next?" even though there was no one left.
Edgar sighed. This idiot... he was perfect.
He lifted the colossal sword, its overwhelming weight making the very air groan in protest. A blade meant for kings. A burden meant for monsters.
"Here." Edgar's voice was heavy, as if he were passing down an unspoken legacy. "If anyone's earned the right to wield this, it's you."
For a moment, Naruto was silent.
Then, his grin widened like a kid who had just been told Christmas came early.
"HOH!?" His hands snapped forward, grabbing the hilt before Edgar could even blink.
And then it hit him—not just the weight of the sword, but the sheer, monstrous presence of it.
His arms trembled for a brief second before his chakra surged, adjusting to the weapon's absurd density. He could feel it… the rage, the history, the sheer destruction woven into its iron bones. A blade forged in conquest. A throne meant to be held, not sat upon.
His eyes gleamed. His face stretched into an even bigger grin.
"I AM SOOOO KEEPING THIS SWORD!"
Edgar let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Aye, lad. It suits you."
For a moment, silence settled between them, save for the distant crackle of dying flames. Edgar, however, wasn't done.
With a slow breath, he turned to Naruto, his voice carrying the weight of something far greater than battle.
"One more thing..."
Naruto blinked. "Huh?"
Edgar's eyes narrowed slightly, cutting through the usual mirth in Naruto's gaze like a blade through parchment.
"Be good to Irina."
Naruto tilted his head. "Wait, what?"
Edgar's stare sharpened. "You heard me."
A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.
Naruto's brain sputtered. "Yeah, but—wait, be good to her how?! Be good in what way?! Is there something I'm supposed to—?!"
Edgar suddenly turned away. A smirk curled on his lips.
"You'll figure it out."
"OI! OLD MAN, THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!"
Naruto stood there, gripping his new weapon of mass destruction like it was the last solid thing in his crumbling reality.
The wind roared, carrying Edgar's laughter into the distance.
(.0.0.0.)
Somewhere within the hallowed halls of Roundtable Hold, a battle of motherly fury and stubborn defiance was underway.
"YOU DID WHAT?!"
Roderika's voice shook the very walls, her hands flailing with the intensity of a mother hen discovering her chick had rolled through poison ivy, fallen off a cliff, and then picked a fight with a dragon for good measure.
In front of her, Aurelia, the little jellyfish-girl, pouted with all the graceful indignation of a child who thought they had done nothing wrong.
"You need to be careful! I know you're all… spirit-y now, but you can still get hurt! And what was that stunt back there?! SPITTING POISON IN A DEMIGOD'S FACE?!"
Roderika waved her hands wildly, as if trying to physically grab the concept of recklessness and shake it out of existence.
"What if he had dodged and TRIED TO EAT YOU?!"
Aurelia huffed, folding her transparent, spectral arms across her chest.
"Papa said I did great."
A beat of silence.
Then—
Roderika's eyes twitched. Her entire body trembled with the weight of unspoken frustration. And then—
"PAPA HAS ROCKS FOR BRAINS!"
The words exploded from her mouth like an incantation, shaking the Roundtable Hold with motherly rage. The sheer force of the statement was enough to make some poor tarnished trip over themselves in the other room.
Then realization dawned.
Her eyes widened.
Her hands clamped over her mouth like a prisoner sealing away a forbidden truth.
Because at any moment—
At ANY moment—
A blond, orange-clad whirlwind of indignation and pure, unstoppable stubbornness could come CRASHING THROUGH THE WALL SCREAMING ABOUT HIS INFINITE WISDOM.
Aurelia smirked, her jelly-like glow pulsing mischievously.
"Oh-ho? Should I tell Papa you said that?"
"Don't you DARE," Roderika hissed, her face turning red with panic.
But before the tiny spectral menace could push her advantage, a third voice entered the room—
A voice colder than the deepest nights of Nokstella.
"I see thou art as spirited as I have heard."
The air shifted.
The temperature plummeted.
A wave of arcane presence swept through the room, sending a chill down even Roderika's spine.
The candles flickered. The very walls seemed to bow under an unseen force.
Slowly—as if the very world itself demanded reverence—Roderika turned, her hands unconsciously curling into fists.
At the entrance stood a woman bathed in the glow of the moon.
Tall. Ethereal. Four arms cloaked in midnight robes. A porcelain face untouched by time. A gaze that seemed to pierce into the very fabric of fate itself.
Ranni the Witch had arrived.
For a brief moment, neither woman spoke.
The sheer weight of their opposing energies clashed in silence.
A noble spirit tuner, protector of lost souls.
A Lunar Witch, bearer of an unfathomable destiny.
Aurelia looked between them like a child watching two adults argue over the last piece of cake.
Then—
Roderika's eyes narrowed.
"So. You must be Ranni."
The witch of the cold moon tilted her head slightly, an almost imperceptible smile flickering onto her otherwise unreadable face.
"…I am."
Her gaze was unreadable, but there was an amusement behind it—a cautious, studying amusement.
Then, slowly, her piercing eyes met Roderika's.
"And who art thou?"
Aurelia, ever the cute spirit, slowly raised a tiny, spectral finger.
"Um...? Should I get the popcorn?"
(.0.0.0.)
A flicker of something dark passed through Roderika's gaze.
Something primal. Unspoken. Ancient.
The spirits within her stirred.
Invisible presences whispered, snarled, howled at the unnatural force before her.
And then—realization struck her chest like a warhammer.
Ranni… was a spirit.
And Roderika… was a Spirit Tuner.
The one person in the world truly capable of unmaking the Lunar Witch at the present moment. The very air thickened between them, as though the room itself had taken a sharp breath and refused to exhale. The shadows deepened. The flickering candlelight wavered, uncertain if it should dare to illuminate what was about to unfold.
Then, in a single motion—
Roderika stepped forward.
Her voice was calm, but her words cut through the air like a death sentence.
"He is MINE. You will stay away from him."
A shadow of amusement danced across Ranni's face. A ghost of a smirk.
"I made no claims upon that silly boy," she mused, her voice cool as moonlight. "'Tis no fault of mine that he might enjoy my company."
Roderika's eyelid twitched.
The entire Hold trembled.
A wooden cup on the nearby table tipped over and rolled away.
Aurelia, clinging to Roderika's robes, felt the shift. Her little spectral body pulsed nervously.
Roderika's voice, deceptively soft, carried the weight of a gathering storm. "Oh, is that right? And why, pray tell, does a supposedly detached witch have an interest in some 'silly boy'?"
"Perhaps because he is interesting," Ranni replied smoothly, the picture of untouched grace.
"Or mayhap because he is useful. Does that trouble thee?"
"Oh, no," Roderika replied, smiling through gritted teeth. "No trouble at all. In fact, it's giving me clarity."
Her fingers curled, and the air itself seemed to ripple.
At the edges of reality, something stirred.
A pulse of energy.
A shimmering force of spirits—restless, waiting, ready to answer their summoner's call.
Roderika's voice dropped to a whisper—not meant for Ranni, not meant for Aurelia, but for herself.
"Could one kill a Demigod that was technically dead?"
A pause.
Then, the barest hint of a smirk.
"Because I am rapidly finding myself consumed with the desire to find out."
The room groaned under the pressure of two forces meeting head-on.
Ranni, the Lunar Witch, unshaken by fate itself, felt something for the first time in centuries.
A sliver of uncertainty.
A twitch of her fingers.
The faintest shift in her expression.
But Roderika saw it.
And she grinned.
"Beware the wroth of a gentle woman…"
Ranni's smirk vanished.
Her voice, still like ice, now carried a dangerous edge.
"Do not challenge me, girl…"
But Roderika took another step forward.
The air grew thick with the weight of countless souls.
The temperature dropped.
The walls shuddered.
The Hold itself, a place meant to withstand warriors of untold strength, now felt like it might crack under the weight of two titanic forces.
Roderika's voice was no longer soft. "Funny, I was about to say the same."
Aurelia clutched onto Roderika tighter, her little body glowing anxiously, face writ with concern.
Somewhere, an old tarnished warrior paused mid-drink, his cup rattling in his hand.
The battle had begun—not one of steel, but of sheer, unrelenting will.
Moonlight against the spirits of the fallen.
The weight of cold fate against the fury of the restless dead.
Then—
The door creaked open.
A new figure stepped in.
A warrior, cloaked in orange, bathed in battle-sweat, dragging a grotesquely massive sword behind him.
Naruto Uzumaki.
His eyes took in the scene.
He saw Ranni, her presence a force of the cosmos itself, her expression edged with warning.
He saw Roderika, her very stance an unbreakable wall of fury, the unseen dead rising around her.
He felt the pressure. The sheer, suffocating presence of two beings who, at any second, might unleash devastation upon this very room.
And in that moment—
Naruto immediately turned on his heel and walked straight back out.
"Nope. Not dealing with that. Not today."
Aurelia, watching him go, blinked.
"Papa? Where are you going?"
Naruto never stopped.
Never even glanced back.
And with that, he disappeared down the hall.
Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of his warrior soul, Naruto knew—without a doubt, with the certainty of a thousand lifetimes—
If he got in the middle of this battle?
Not even the Sage of Six Paths would be able to save him.
He was reckless, not suicidal.
(.0.0.0.)
And so, the night went on.
Outside, beneath the cold moonlight, Naruto swung his brand-new Grafted Greatsword around like a child who had just been given an oversized toy and absolutely zero adult supervision.
"WHOAAAA! THIS THING IS SO HEAVY! BUT ALSO SO COOL! BUT ALSO, IT'S REALLY HEAVY!"
The ground shook with every impact. Every swing sent small craters forming in the earth, and the poor Roundtable Hold groaned under the sheer recklessness of its newest tenant.
Somewhere, a wandering merchant paused, looking up from his wares at the distant sky.
"Why do I feel like some absolute idiot is causing seismic disturbances again…?"
Inside, however—within the hallowed halls of Roundtable Hold—
A different kind of battle raged on.
Roderika and Ranni stood toe to toe, locked in a verbal war of wills so intense that even the spirits of the dead dared not speak.
The tension was thick.
The air felt heavy, charged with an unspoken storm of emotions, threats, and incredibly petty posturing.
The two women glared at each other, their voices laced with deadly politeness.
"Oh? So thou would stake thy claim upon him?" Ranni said, her words slow, deliberate, cool as the moonlight that draped her form.
Roderika's eyes narrowed. The very air around her shimmered with the restless spirits, awaiting their tuner's command.
"He is under my care. And I don't appreciate interferences."
Ranni's smirk grew sharper.
"Oh? And if he chooses to seek mine instead?"
Something cracked in the air.
A fork on the nearby table spontaneously bent.
A chair creaked under the invisible force of absolute, world-ending passive-aggression.
Aurelia, the small jellyfish spirit, slowly scooted under the table, too young and too tiny to comprehend the sheer gravity of the battlefield she was witnessing.
Meanwhile, in the corner of the room, Melina sighed deeply.
She had rubbed her temples so much this night that she was genuinely considering whether the Frenzied Flame might actually be the preferable option to dealing with these people.
She exhaled, voice flat.
"Why do I get the feeling this will only escalate?"
(.0.0.0.)
Somewhere, a certain Loathsome Dung Eater sneezed so violently that he almost dropped his latest cursed effigy.
A shiver ran down his spine.
A deep, primal sense of dread crawled over his rotting soul.
He glanced around, narrowing his beady, filth-ridden eyes at the empty darkness.
"Tch. Someone must be speaking ill of me…"
Little did he know—his relevance in this world was rapidly being overshadowed by two supernatural women fighting over a loud, ramen-obsessed ninja.
(.0.0.0.)
Outside, Naruto continued to swing his brand-new Greatsword like a lunatic let loose in a blacksmith's workshop.
Each swing shook the very balance of the Lands Between.
Each impact sent shockwaves through the air, causing nearby Tarnished to reevaluate all their life choices.
"HAH! TAKE THAT, IMAGINARY ENEMY! AND THAT! AND THIS! AND—OH WAIT—!"
CRASH~!
Naruto accidentally buried the sword into the ground, where it lodged itself so deep that it refused to budge.
"…Oh."
He yanked.
It didn't move.
He yanked harder.
Still nothing.
Naruto frowned, rubbing his chin.
Then, he nodded sagely.
"Alright. There's only one way to fix this."
He took three steps back, cracked his knuckles—
—And then promptly entered Sage Mode, preparing to suplex the ground itself.
A poor, tired knight, who had been watching from a safe distance, turned pale as death.
"OH GODS, HE'S TRYING TO FIGHT THE CONCEPT OF THE EARTH ITSELF."
(...MEANWHILE, BACK INSIDE – THE FINAL MOMENTS BEFORE WAR...)
The battle between Ranni the Witch and Roderika, the Spirit Tuner, had entered the realm of absolute, undeniable pettiness.
"Perhaps thou art simply jealous, spirit tuner," Ranni mused, lifting a delicate hand to examine her fingers with casual amusement. "Thou hast no means to captivate a man, and thus, thou lash out."
Roderika's right eye twitched.
The entire room trembled.
Somewhere, a nearby pot shattered into pieces.
The very SPIRITS IN THE ROOM tensed, recognizing the moment before absolute annihilation.
Then—
"Jealous?"
Roderika let out a sharp laugh, low and utterly without mirth.
"You think I need to 'captivate' him?"
She took a step forward—and for the first time, Ranni felt something unfamiliar creep down her spine.
An edge of true danger.
The air grew suffocatingly thick, as if the very souls Roderika had tuned were watching, waiting.
A flicker of something unnatural stirred behind her eyes.
"You know nothing of bonds, Witch."
Ranni narrowed her gaze.
The room tensed.
The very Hold itself quivered as the spiritual presence of countless lost souls began to rise like a vengeful tide.
Somewhere, Melina pinched the bridge of her nose.
"This is going to destroy the Hold, isn't it?"
Then—
THE DOORS BURST OPEN.
A panting, disheveled Naruto stormed inside, dust-covered, looking like he had just gone ten rounds with gravity itself.
Everyone turned to look at him.
He froze.
Silence.
…Then his eyes darted to Ranni.
Then to Roderika.
Then to the invisible battle raging between them.
Then back to Ranni.
Then back to Roderika.
Then back to the fact that he had just walked directly into the middle of something truly, undeniably apocalyptic.
Naruto, in all his years of reckless, unhinged bravado—instantly knew.
There was no winning here.
His face broke out in a cold sweat.
Then—
With the calm, deliberate movements of a man who had suddenly realized he was in the most dangerous situation of his life—
Naruto wordlessly turned around, walked right back out, and shut the door behind him.
Aurelia blinked. "Papa?"
His voice was muffled through the frame. "Nope. Not dealing with that. Not today."
And thus, the Lands Between had just become a far more entertaining, and significantly more dangerous, place.
A/N: And thus, we have entered a new level of chaos. Will Roderika actually throw hands with Ranni? Will Naruto ever figure out why people keep making comments about Irina? How long until Aurelia calls Melina "Auntie" and Naruto cries? Stay tuned!
Do you want this to be a story? Yes? No? Maybe so? Make yourselves heard!
Once more, we're sticking with the "Embers" rule for this particular story, and others. If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular? POOF! Gone. Completely. I'm working two jobs -might need a third soon!- so I barely have time to write; as such, I cannot afford to write something folks don't enjoy.
So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. Working nearly all hours of the day keep me absurdly busy, and I can't bring myself to write something folks don't like.
Aaaand there we go. As ever, reviews keep me alive. Without them, I cannot write. So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly?
No previews this time~!
Looking forward to chatting with you all after work!
Warm regards,
~Nz.
R&R~!