I don't own or co-own Naruto or That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime, the rights belong to Fuse and Masashi Kishimoto. Based upon Characters created by Fuse and Masashi Kishimoto.
Rated M - For Strong Language, Blood and Violence, and other stuff.
"Talking."
"Thoughts."
[Jutsus, Techniques, and Spells]
Author Note:
First off, there will be no Rimuru.
Second: Pairing is undecided. Maybe there will be a single pairing. Maybe there will be no pairing at all. Or maybe it will be a harem. I don't truly know(I know, I just don't want to reveal it just yet).
Third: I don't think I will ever update my other stories, so I'm sorry about that.
Fourth: I will make some additions to the world-building of That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime and add new races. I have been playing Dungeon and Dragons and studying its lore lately, so I have come up with some great ideas for this story.
Fifth: You may me this question: "Is this story going to be like canon?" The answer to that is yes and no.
"[Chapter 7: Preparation and History]"
Two men of distinct appearance and disposition were situated within the confines of a well-appointed office, one standing with an air of nobility and the other seated in contemplative repose.
Baron Veryard, a prominent figure hailing from the illustrious Blummund Kingdom, bore the hallmarks of his aristocratic lineage with dark blond hair meticulously groomed to frame a parsimonious beard and moustache.
His attire was a testament to his status, comprising a rich brown vest nestled beneath a coat of regal purple, the fabric whispering of his lineage and rank.
Facing him was his counterpart, Fuze, the esteemed Guild Master. His raven-black hair was accentuated by a stark white streak, a curious contrast that spoke volumes of the tumultuous journey he had traversed. Dressed in a white collared shirt, which peeked out from under an unbuttoned red overcoat, he exuded an aura of authority and wisdom.
The ambiance in the room was one of gravity, as the two men were deeply engrossed in a topic that could not be taken lightly.
Their expressions mirrored the solemnity of the situation: the unexplained vanishing of the Storm Dragon, a creature whose very existence had maintained a delicate balance in the region. This disappearance had sent ripples of concern throughout the land, for it heralded potential upheaval and chaos.
The conversation between the two had been ongoing for quite some time, a dance of words and strategies, each trying to grasp the full implications of the crisis at hand.
"Fuze," began Baron Veryard, his voice steeped in urgency, "I must insist that you enlighten me on the measures your esteemed guild is planning to implement in light of this alarming development."
Fuze's response was measured and cautious. "At the moment, Baron, we have not formulated any definitive course of action."
"What?!" exclaimed Veryard, incredulous. "You must realize the ramifications of this situation! With Veldora's absence, the monsters in the vicinity will become emboldened and more active!"
Fuze nodded solemnly, the furrows on his brow deepening as he acknowledged his friend's concern. "Indeed, I am all too aware of the potential perils. However, we must also consider the political implications. The Eastern Empire may seize this opportunity to extend its malevolent grasp over our lands. Any overt display of weakness or disarray could serve as an invitation to invade."
Veryard observed the unspoken anguish etched on Fuze's features and pressed further. "Your stress is palpable, my old friend. Is there something more to this than you're revealing?"
With a heavy exhalation, Fuze replied, "Before the Storm Dragon's disappearance, we recorded a cataclysmic surge of power, unlike anything we've ever encountered. It sent shockwaves through the region, causing monsters to flee in terror to nearby human settlements, wreaking havoc in their wake. Others remained eerily still, as if stunned into immobility. The prevailing theory is that Veldora exhausted his might in a futile bid for freedom, but the true cause of his disappearance remains a mystery."
"And you suspect it could be another majin?" posited Veryard, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and curiosity.
Fuze's nod was solemn. "The power was vast, almost incomprehensible. If it indeed belonged to another majin, we could be facing a being as formidable as the current 10 Great Demon Lords. Their emergence could be the harbinger of a new era of strife and turmoil."
The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on Veryard's shoulders. "Then let us hope, for the sake of our realm, that your investigations yield substantial results and that this enigmatic force remains dormant for the time being."
The two men, bound by friendship and shared concern for their world, understood the delicate tapestry of fate they were attempting to navigate.
The absence of the Storm Dragon, Veldora, had opened a Pandora's box of uncertainties, and their collective wisdom and resolve would be tested in the days to come.
Fuze's gaze grew distant as he contemplated the monumental task ahead. He had dispatched a contingent of the guild's most skilled adventurers to unravel the mystery and assess the true nature of the power surge.
Yet, the fear of what they might discover gnawed at him. If a new majin had indeed emerged, it could threaten the very fabric of their world, and the balance of power could shift dramatically.
Baron Veryard, recognizing the burden his friend bore, offered what reassurance he could. "We must stand firm and remain vigilant. The Blummund Kingdom and the Adventurers' Guild have faced adversity before and prevailed. Together, we shall navigate these troubled waters and ensure that peace is restored."
Fuze nodded, the bond between them serving as a beacon of hope amidst the gathering storm. The fate of their world now hinged upon the actions they would take and the secrets they would uncover.
The disappearance of Veldora was not merely a crisis; it was the dawn of a new chapter in their history, one fraught with peril and potential, and it was up to them to shape its outcome.
"However, there is one problem with that."
Baron Veryard looked at Fuze with a furrowed brow, "What is it?"
"A day prior, a man by the name of Madara Uchiha appeared at the Guild looking to join."
"And?"
Fuze's voice grew more serious. "His presence was exactly the same as that of the Storm Dragon."
Baron Veryard's eyes widened in shock. "The same power as Veldora? Are you certain?"
"The Hero; Shizu Izawa herself confirmed it."
Baron Veryard leaned forward, his interest piqued. "The Hero of the Flaming Sword? What does she have to do with this?"
"She felt the pressure of Veldora approaching the City and rushed to come here. Only to see that the power came from none other than this man named Madara."
Baron Veryard's hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. "This is... alarming. Could he be the one behind the dragon's disappearance?"
Fuze shrugged, his eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. "Madara claims to know nothing about Veldora's fate, but his timing is suspicious. He disappeared into the Jura Forest after seeking out a midwife."
Baron Veryard's mind raced with the implications. "A midwife? What could he possibly want with someone of that profession?"
"We don't know, but I'm thinking of sending Shizu Izawa with a group of adventures to gather some information about him."
Baron Veryard nodded thoughtfully. "A wise decision, Fuze. Shizu's skills and insight could be invaluable in this matter. Ensure she selects a team capable of handling any eventuality."
"Yes, I just hope she agrees to this quest, because you know how she is. Hahahaha."
Baron Veryard chuckled in response, knowing all too well about the legendary hero's independent spirit. Despite her youthful exuberance, Shizu Izawa had proven to be a pillar of strength and wisdom in their tumultuous times.
"She is over 200 years old you know. If I was that age I would give up as well. Hahahaha," Baron Veryard said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.
Fuze couldn't help but chuckle at the Baron's jest. "Her spirit is as fiery as ever, despite her age. But she has a soft spot for the innocents caught in the crossfire of these battles. She won't refuse if it means protecting them."
"But If she doesn't consider this man a threat, then she will probably turn on us, thinking we set her up."
Fuze leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin in contemplation. "True, but we must consider all possibilities. The balance of power has shifted, and we cannot afford to ignore any potential threats."
"When do you think you could send her and the rest?"
Fuze's expression grew solemn once more. "As soon as tomorrow, if she agrees. I'll have to convince her of the gravity of the situation and the need for discretion."
"Leave it to our Guild Master, a cunning manipulator and a master of information." The Baron said.
Fuze grinned slightly at the compliment. "Indeed, I will do my best to persuade her. But we must also prepare for the possibility that he may be an ally."
"Or an enemy that could destroy us if angered." Veryard said, his voice filled with concern.
Fuze nodded in agreement. "Which is why we must tread carefully. We need to gather information without alerting him to our suspicions. Shizu's group will need to be the eyes and ears of the kingdom in this mission. They will need to be swift and silent, and prepared for any eventuality."
Baron Veryard stood up, the gravity of the situation apparent in his posture. "Understood. I will prepare the necessary resources and support for Shizu's expedition. We cannot afford any missteps here. The fate of the kingdom may very well rest upon their shoulders."
Fuze shook his hand and the baron left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The weight of the world seemed to press down on him, and he knew that the coming days would be filled with tough decisions and potential dangers.
He looked outside the window and saw the dawn of the sun, as if it symbolically declared the end of an era and the beginning of a new one filled with hopeor chaos.
Fuze knew that he had to act swiftly. He couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment.
Madara Uchiha, the legendary shinobi of the Uchiha clan and founder of the Uchiha village, found himself in the uncharted territory of the Goblin Village, an unexpected turn of events that had led him to this peculiar setting.
The Goblin Village was a hive of activity, with Hobgoblins, the larger and more intelligent cousins of the typical goblin, engaging in a rigorous training regimen.
They were a peculiar sight, their bulbous eyes focused with determination, their pointed ears twitching in response to every sound, and their green, scaly skin glistening with the sheen of sweat and effort. Madara's sharp gaze swept over the scene, scrutinizing their every move.
"Accelerate your movements." Madara's command echoed through the village. His voice was firm, yet laced with the wisdom of countless battles and the patience of a seasoned teacher. "Strength alone does not equate to victory. The swiftness of your actions can often be the deciding factor between life and death. If your adversary is swifter than the wind, you shall be too slow to evade their strikes, too sluggish to retaliate, and your struggle shall be for naught!"
The Hobgoblins nodded in unison, their expressions a mix of fear and respect for the mighty human who had taken them under his wing.
Madara knew that their understanding of his words was limited, but the gravity of the situation was not lost on them.
Their very survival hinged on their ability to adapt and grow stronger, to become a force to be reckoned with in the perilous world they inhabited.
"From this very moment," Madara announced with the finality of a decree, "you will run a daily course from here to the banks of the Great Ameld River. The river, a formidable natural barrier, will serve as the benchmark for your progress. Only when you can traverse this distance with the agility of a gazelle and the endurance of a horse shall you be deemed adequate for the battles that await us."
The Hobgoblins exchanged glances, a silent acknowledgment of the daunting task set before them. Yet, they knew that Madara's training was their path to becoming protectors of their kin.
The air was filled with the sound of rustling leaves and the occasional clank of metal as the Hobgoblins resumed their training, their movements now imbued with a newfound urgency.
Madara's presence was a constant reminder of the challenges they faced, the trials they had to overcome to ensure their village's continued existence.
From the shadows, a gentle voice pierced the cacophony of grunts and clangs. "What are they doing?" The question was posed by Sylphy, the [Red Flame Angel] who had emerged from the modest dwelling that served as her temporary sanctuary.
Madara turned to face her, his eyes softening at the sight of her. "They are training, Sylphy." His voice held a note of gruffness that belied his concern. "They are preparing for the inevitable battles that will come our way."
Her gaze searched his face, her curiosity evident. "And what would you have us do, my lord?" she inquired, her tone a blend of deference and eagerness.
"Rest," Madara replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "You have just given birth to a child two days ago. Your body requires time to heal, and your mind, to recover from the ordeal you have endured. There is no shame in resting when your body demands it."
Sylphy's eyes searched his, and for a brief moment, she looked as though she might protest, but the fatigue in her voice and the weight of her recent experiences silenced any argument. "Understood, my lord." She conceded, her head bowing slightly in a gesture of submission.
The child, Amara, was the product of a forceful union between Sylphy and a member of the Eastern Empire.
Madara had rescued Sylphy and her companions from the clutches of the vile Knights who had sought to do them harm. In the aftermath of that fateful encounter, he had taken it upon himself to ensure their well-being, to safeguard them from a world that had shown them nothing but cruelty.
"How is the child?" Madara's question hung in the air, filled with genuine interest.
Sylphy managed a soft chuckle despite her weariness. "Amara is well. Though she certainly has quite the set of lungs on her."
Madara allowed himself a small smile at the thought of the newborn's vigorous cries. "Indeed, it is the job of a child to demand attention in such a manner."
His gaze lingered on Sylphy, his expression a complex tapestry of concern and contemplation. The physical wounds she had suffered at the hands of those monsters had been tended to with his skilled medical ninjutsu, but the emotional scars ran much deeper, etched into the very fabric of her soul.
These were not injuries that could be mended with chakra or potions; they required a more delicate touch, the balm of time and understanding.
"Sylphy," he began, his voice tentative as he reached out a hand to her, "I wish to inquire about your well-being. You have been through a rough patch, and it is only natural for you to feel...affected."
Her eyes grew wide with fear, and before he could react, she flinched, her body recoiling from his touch as though it were a venomous snake. "I'm sorry, my lord!" The words tumbled from her mouth as she hastily apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you! It's just... I am... I am afraid of... m-m-men... my lord..."
Her voice was barely a whisper, the words coming out in a rush of anguish, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Madara felt a pang of regret for causing her discomfort, his hand hovering awkwardly in the space between them. He had not meant to remind her of the horrors she had suffered.
"Do not apologize." He spoke softly, his tone soothing. "Your fear is justified. I am not one to demand more than you are willing to give, especially in your current condition."
Sylphy looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and fear. "Thank you, my lord."
He nodded solemnly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Take all the time you need. Your strength will be invaluable to us, but for now, focus on healing. The battles will wait."
With that, Madara turned away, leaving Sylphy to her thoughts. He knew that the journey ahead would be fraught with challenges, both for the goblins and for himself.
Yet, he felt a strange kinship with these beings, a bond that transcended species. They had suffered under the yolk of oppression, much like his own people, and he was determined to help them find a path to freedom.
The training of the Hobgoblins was merely the first step in what would be a long and arduous journey. But Madara was no stranger to adversity, and he had faith that with time, patience, and his guidance, they would become a force that could stand tall against any enemy.
As he walked back to the village's center, his thoughts were with Sylphy, hoping that the warmth of the village and the protection of her newfound allies would help her find the peace she so desperately needed.
The Great Ameld River loomed in the distance, a symbol of the trials they had to face, but also a beacon of hope.
It was a reminder that with every step they took, with every drop of sweat they shed, they were moving closer to a future where the Goblin Village could stand as a bastion of strength and a testament to the resilience of those who had been cast aside.
Madara watched as the Hobgoblins pushed themselves to their limits, their grunts of effort punctuating the air. He knew that the true battle lay not in their physical prowess but in the depths of their hearts, where the fires of determination and courage burned.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the village in an orange glow, Madara contemplated the days ahead. They were a long way from victory, but every journey began with a single step. And if there was one thing Madara Uchiha was good at, it was taking steps that others deemed impossible.
Without any prior warning, Madara, who had been deeply engrossed in contemplative silence, suddenly addressed Sylphy, inquiring about a subject that had piqued his curiosity. "Say, Sylphy," he began, his voice echoing in the quiet space around them, "why is it that you are known as the [Red Flamed Angel]?" His query was not prompted by any particular event or conversation; it was as if the question had spontaneously arisen from the depths of his thoughts.
Sylphy, ever attentive to the words of her lord and master, paused for a brief moment to consider her response. Her expression remained neutral, yet the slight furrow in her brow suggested that she was weighing the significance of the question. Finally, she spoke, her voice as soft and melodious as the gentle rustle of leaves. "The title [Red Flamed Angel] my lord," she explained, "is not merely an epithet that I have been bestowed with. It is, in fact, the name that signifies our unique classification within the grand tapestry of angelic existence. To be precise, it represents the distinct sub-species to which I belong."
Her revelation seemed to pique Madara's interest further, as his gaze sharpened and his curiosity grew more apparent. "Ah, a sub-species," he mused, his eyes lighting up with the spark of newfound knowledge. "Could you, perhaps, elucidate on this matter? What does such a classification entail?"
"Of course, my lord," Sylphy replied with a grace that was inherent to her being. "Our species, the Flame Angels, is comprised of several distinct sub-species, each denoted by the color of the flame that we bear. These colors are not arbitrary but rather emblematic of the hierarchy that governs our kind. Each color holds a specific significance, and with it, a certain degree of power and prestige."
"And what might these other sub-species be?" Madara pressed, eager to expand his understanding of the angelic order that Sylphy represented.
"Indeed, there are a total of six main Flame Angel sub-species," she continued, her words flowing like a gentle stream. "They are categorized as follows: the Green Flamed Angels, the Blue Flamed Angels, the Yellow Flamed Angels, the Red Flamed Angels, the White Flamed Angels, and the most formidable of all, the Black Flamed Angels."
"Six, you say?" Madara echoed her words, his mind racing to grasp the implications of such a complex angelic hierarchy. "And within this order, where does your particular sub-species rank?"
Sylphy took a deep breath, as if bracing herself to recount an ancient tale that had been passed down through generations. "The Dark Flamed Angels, with their ominous yet powerful aura, are revered as the most dominant among us. They are the first and foremost in the hierarchy. Following closely are the resplendent White Flamed Angels, known for their purity and unparalleled wisdom. The fierce and swift Blue Flamed Angels rank third, while my kin, the Red Flamed Angels, hold the fourth position."
"Interesting," Madara murmured, his mind racing with the strategic implications of such a diverse angelic order. "And what of the others? The Yellow and Green Flamed Angels?"
"The Yellow Flamed Angels are the fifth in line, known for their tenacity and unyielding spirit," Sylphy elaborated, her eyes glowing with a faint red light that reflected the warmth of her own flame. "And the Green Flamed Angels, the guardians of nature, bring up the rear in the sixth position."
Madara nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin as he digested this newfound information. "I see," he said, his tone one of quiet contemplation. "It appears that the angelic world is as stratified as the human one, with each color denoting a different level of power and responsibility."
Sensing that the conversation had reached a natural pause, Sylphy took this opportunity to address another matter. "With your permission, my lord," she said, her tone now infused with a hint of urgency, "I must take my leave. It is time for me to attend to the nurturing of Amara."
Madara nodded in understanding, his gaze never leaving hers. "You are dismissed, Sylphy," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Tend to Amara with care."
With a graceful curtsy, Sylphy turned and glided away, her flaming wings leaving a trail of crimson in her wake as she disappeared from the room. Madara watched her retreating form, his thoughts already racing ahead to the battles that lay in wait for him.
As she left, Madara remained standing, his eyes fixed on the spot where she had been. His thoughts grew darker, like the inky shadows that stretched across the room.
The Otsutsuki, those ancient and malevolent beings, were a scourge that needed to be eradicated. And for that, he knew he would require a formidable force by his side. The power of the Flame Angels, especially those of a higher ranking, could prove invaluable in his quest for dominion.
His eyes narrowed, and his expression grew steely. He would need to seek out these powerful beings and convince them to join his cause. Only together, united by a common enemy, could they hope to stand against the Otsutsuki and bring an end to their tyrannical reign.
The potential of alliances with the Flame Angels weighed heavily on his mind as he pondered his next move. The fate of the world rested in his hands, and he knew that he could not afford to overlook any possible advantage, no matter how unexpected it may be.
Turning his gaze back to the door through which Sylphy had exited, Madara felt a newfound resolve surging through his veins. The information she had shared with him was indeed enlightening, and he knew that it would not go to waste. He would need every ounce of power he could muster to ensure the survival of his people and the destruction of his enemies.
With a determined nod, Madara turned away from the door and back to the matters at hand. The wheels of his cunning mind were already in motion, planning and strategizing. The time had come to gather his forces, to build an unstoppable army that would destroy the Space Parasites; the Otsutsuki Clan.
The first order of business was to bolster the Goblin Village's defenses. Madara knew that the Otsutsuki would not sit idly by while he grew stronger. They would come for him, and when they did, he wanted to be ready.
"[You are thinking to much, Madara. The Otustsuki can't come into the Cardinal World. My older brother protection will protect us.]" Veldora the Dragon that was sealed inside him spoke.
Madara sighed. He had almost forgotten about the dragon's presence. "Your optimism is admirable, but we can't be too careful. They will sense my Chakra here. And they will eventually come to cultivate this world with the Divine Tree."
He stepped outside the village, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the heat of his thoughts. The Hobgoblins had finished their training and were now dispersing to their huts, their eyes flickering with a newfound sense of purpose. Madara watched them, his mind racing with the implications of what he had learned.
"Rigurd. Tell the others to come out."
Madara's command was firm, yet it contained a hint of urgency that was not lost on the Hobgoblin standing before him. The creature, Rigurd, was one of the most capable and loyal members of the Goblin Village.
He nodded briskly before sprinting off to gather the other Hobgoblins. Madara knew that the time for action had come, and he couldn't afford to waste any more moments in contemplation.
Everyone gathered around him, even the woman with heir babes, as Madara called for the villagers. The Hobgoblins looked at him with a mix of curiosity and a hint of fear, not quite understanding the gravity of the situation but aware that their leader had something important to say.
"Stand behind me. This village need a litte redesign." He said with a smile. "[Wood Style: Four Pillars Wood House Jutsu!]"
The Hobgoblins watched in amazement as Madara's hands began to glow with a faint green chakra, his eyes focused on the central area of their village. With a swift motion, he brought his hands together, and the very earth before them trembled.
From the ground, wooden pillars shot upwards, entwined with vines and leaves, forming the skeleton of what would soon be their new communal space. The pillars grew taller and more numerous, curving gracefully to enclose the area. The scene was a dance of nature and power, as Madara's jutsu shaped the environment to his will.
The Hobgoblins watched in awe as the structure took form, their eyes wide with wonder. The buildings that grew from the earth were not just functional, but a blend of art and necessity. They were crafted with an eye for beauty, each one unique yet fitting perfectly into the harmonious design of the village.
The central area grew to be a grand communal space, surrounded by four sturdy wooden pillars that stretched skyward, entwined with ivy and leaves. They served not only as supports for the large roof that would soon cover the space but also as a symbol of the village's unity and strength.
The pathways that branched out from the central area were meticulously designed, leading to various zones of the village.
To the north, there was a bustling farmstead, where Hobgoblins worked the earth with surprising dexterity, planting and tending to crops that would soon flourish under Madara's care. The air was rich with the scent of freshly turned soil, mixed with the sweet aroma of blooming flowers.
To the east lay the gardens, an explosion of vibrant color and life. The Hobgoblins had always had a green thumb, but under Madara's influence, their gardening skills had reached new heights. Exotic plants grew alongside familiar ones, creating a veritable Eden that served not only as a food source but also as a place of beauty and tranquility.
The pathways that wove through the gardens were lined with trees that bore fruit year-round, their branches heavy with the weight of their bounty. The leaves of these trees whispered secrets of ancient knowledge and wisdom that Madara hoped to pass on to the villagers. It was a place where the Hobgoblins could find peace and solace, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world.
The communal spaces grew more defined as Madara's jutsu continued to work its magic. To the south, a spacious area was reserved for training, where the Hobgoblins could hone their combat skills under his watchful eye. The ground was packed firmly, ideal for sparring and the use of weapons, and the air was charged with the scent of determination and growth.
To the west, a series of smaller structures took shape, each designed for a specific craft. The smithy, with its blazing forge, was a place where metal would be shaped into the tools and weapons they would need to defend themselves.
The weavers' huts were filled with the rhythmic clack of looms and the hum of industrious Hobgoblins creating fabrics that would clothe their kin and provide warmth against the harsher elements.
The pathways that connected these various areas were not merely thoroughfares but also communal spaces where Hobgoblins could mingle and exchange stories and knowledge.
"And now for the final touches." His feet separated from the ground and he hovered above the village. "[Four Crimson Ray Formation!]
He shot four black rods from his hand into the four corners of the village, and they disappeared into the earth with a muffled thud. The crimson chakra that emanated from them began to coalesce, weaving a delicate web that grew more substantial with each passing second. The air grew taut with anticipation as the barrier took shape, a red aura pulsing in time with Madara's breaths.
The barrier grew higher, the color deepening to a rich, almost blood-like crimson that stood out starkly against the verdant landscape. It stretched from the base of the wooden pillars to the sky, enveloping the entirety of the Goblin Village in a protective embrace. The energy was palpable, a silent declaration of defiance to any who might wish them harm.
As Madara's jutsu concluded, he descended gracefully, his feet touching the ground with barely a sound. The Hobgoblins, their eyes wide with amazement, fell to their knees, their voices rising in a cacophony of praise and reverence.
"Madara-sama!" They chanted, their voices echoing through the newly transformed space. "You amazing!"
Madara nodded in acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet satisfaction. He knew the importance of fostering loyalty and respect among his people, and this display of his power was as much for their benefit as it was for practical purposes.
End of Chapter 7.