Northern border of the Land of Earth, near the border with the Land of Fire.
Deep beneath the surface, inside a dim underground cavern, a pale humanoid form slowly emerged from the stone wall.
Its body was white like clay, merging unnaturally with the rock.
Seated on a throne carved from twisted, withered wood, an old man with waist-length gray hair and deeply lined features opened his eyes.
White Zetsu spoke with a grin,
"I've found a young Uchiha who meets your standards."
The man before him—Uchiha Madara—was thought long dead by the world. A ghost of history.
A legend at the peak of the Shinobi world, now hidden in the shadows.
Madara raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
White Zetsu continued, describing in detail everything he had observed about the boy named Uchiha Obito—his personality, talents, habits, and potential.
After a moment of thought, Madara nodded in approval.
"Hmph... yes. He does seem like a suitable candidate."
But White Zetsu wasn't finished.
"There's another boy I stumbled across," he added.
"Not an Uchiha—but... he sensed my presence."
Madara's eyes narrowed.
White Zetsu was a master of infiltration and concealment.
Even seasoned Jonin had trouble detecting him. Only a handful of sensory legends—like Senju Tobirama—could manage it.
"Which clan is he from?"
"He's a civilian orphan. No background, no Kekkei Genkai. But he's terrifyingly gifted in taijutsu. Took down a Jonin-level opponent at the age of six."
Even he and Hashirama hadn't shown such physical dominance at that age.
"Should I monitor him more closely?" White Zetsu asked.
Madara shook his head.
"No. Just keep a casual eye on him. Focus your efforts on Nagato and the Obito boy."
Although the child sounded impressive, Madara didn't deem him worthy of too much attention—at least not yet.
In this world, strength alone wasn't enough.
Without a powerful bloodline, without ties to the legacy of the Sage of Six Paths, even the most talented civilian shinobi would hit a ceiling—Kage-level.
To reach beyond—to grasp the power of gods—one needed bloodlines like Uchiha or Senju. Reincarnations of Indra and Asura. The chosen few.
Look at the strongest: Naruto, Sasuke, Madara, Hashirama—all touched by destiny, tied to divine lineage.
Then consider the others—civilian shinobi like Jiraiya, Might Guy, the Third Raikage, White Fang. Legends, yes.
But ultimately bound by mortality. Their apex was Kage-level, nothing more.
Even Might Guy's moment of brilliance came at the cost of his life—Eight Inner Gates, a last stand.
The world was not fair. It never had been.
White Zetsu nodded and sank back into the stone wall, vanishing like a whisper.
Madara closed his eyes and resumed his slumber, patiently awaiting the rise of his
Guts sat casually with his hands crossed beneath the shade of a tree by the riverbank training ground.
To a casual observer, he seemed to be meditating, lost in stillness.
In truth, he was far from still.
Inside his virtual training world, Guts was locked in intense combat—facing off against one of Garp's most formidable past foes: the young, yet-to-be-legendary "Dark King" Silvers Rayleigh.
Though not in his prime, Rayleigh's swordsmanship was still ferocious. Paired with his agility and sharp instincts, he pushed Guts to his limits.
The clang of steel, the burn of exertion, the focus of battle—it all played out in this mind-forged battlefield.
Sweat beaded down his brow.
As Guts opened his eyes, he realized the sun was already dipping toward the horizon.
[Daily Achievement Complete: "Devil Training"]
[Template Character: Monkey D. Garp
Progress was slow. Not disappointing, but definitely demanding.
He stood, stretching his limbs. Bones cracked, joints popped.
He walked over to the river and splashed cold water on his face and hair, washing away the fatigue.
"It's probably around the time Kurenai's exam finishes," he muttered.
With that, he sprinted off toward the ninja academy.
Outside the academy gates…
Guts spotted her immediately—Yuhi Kurenai. The soft glint of a newly earned forehead protector rested on her head. Her timid eyes lit up when she saw him.
Might Guy, Rin Nohara, Shiranui Genma—all wore their protectors proudly. The air was thick with excitement and relief.
Guts walked up and gently ruffled Kurenai's hair.
"Good job," he said softly. She lowered her eyes, smiling under his hand.
Just then, a loud voice rang out from behind.
"Whoooa! I actually passed?!"
It was Uchiha Obito, practically skipping down the steps, holding his forehead protector high in disbelief and joy.
Guts couldn't help but chuckle. Not mockery—just honest surprise.
He knew Obito. Everyone knew Obito. The boy had heart—but talent? That was debatable.
"Didn't expect that," Guts said truthfully.
"Hey! Don't look down on me, you jerk!"
Obito shouted, puffing up his chest.
"I trained really hard, alright?"
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